“Be careful,” Nathan said soberly. “I wouldn’t want you to be caught in the trap you’re setting for Hebert. The man gives me the willies.”
She had a sudden memory of the chill she had felt when talking to Nathan earlier in the evening. “You be careful, too.”
“I’m always careful.” He finished his coffee. “I have to live to get my Pulitzer.” He started for the door. “Come on, Galen. Get off your ass and take me to the airport.”
Chapter 16
Louisiana State University
11:45 a.m.
October 25
“It’s Terrebonne parish.” Professor Gerald Cassidy straightened his bifocal glasses on his nose before looking up at Eve and Joe. “I’d bet on it.”
“You haven’t even tested it,” Joe said. “How can you be sure?”
“I’ll take it to the lab and run some tests, but I’ve seen this dirt before. It’s unusual. I did a paper on the area for my doctorate.”
Which couldn’t have been too long ago, Eve thought. Cassidy didn’t look a day over twenty-five. “Why is it unusual?”
“High concentration of calcium.” Cassidy pointed to the minute white chips embedded in the dirt. “Shells. Hundreds of years ago, the entire area was flooded and the shells were deposited all over.” He frowned. “But I’ve never run across this heavy a percentage of shells in the soil samples I took. I’d be interested to know where it’s located. . . .”
“We need to be absolutely sure we can start at Terrebonne,” Joe said. “Will you run some tests?”
Cassidy shrugged. “Sure. Come back this afternoon.” He paused. “Why do you want to know? What are you looking for?”
Eve hesitated. “A grave.”
Cassidy made a face. “Good luck. That’s bayou country. Hundreds of waterways, and the Cajuns aren’t all that communicative. They don’t like strangers. It took me months to gather enough information for my thesis.”
“But you must have made a few contacts. Can you put us in touch with anyone who might be able to pinpoint the area where this might be found?”
“Jacques Dufour. If he needs money and wants to cooperate, he knows the bayous better than anyone else I was able to hire. I’ll give you his phone number in Houma.” He opened a desk drawer, took out a black leather address book, and flipped through it. “I wouldn’t use me as a reference. He made no bones about showing his contempt for me.”
“Why?”
“I was twenty-four years old, a little bookish, and not Cajun. All sins in his eyes.” He studied Joe. “Somehow I don’t think you’ll have a problem with him.”
“I won’t.” Eve wrote down the phone number and stood up. “When will you know for certain?”
“It should be about four this afternoon. Are you coming back here?”
Eve shook her head as she went toward the door. “Joe will give you our cell number. We’re leaving for Houma right away.”
“They’re going to Terrebonne parish,” Melton said as soon as Hebert answered the phone. “They’re after the grave. For God’s sake, can you screw up any worse than you’ve been doing?”
Hebert smothered the surge of anger. “They won’t find anything.”
“I’m not so sure. You’ve screwed up everything about this business from the beginning.”
“It will be all right. Maybe better than all right. I know those swamps, and the people who live there. Etienne and I grew up near those bayous.”
“Listen to me. I want no disruption. Get rid of them quickly, quietly, and then get your ass back to Boca Raton. Christ, I can’t believe you’ve cut it this close. You’re sure that everything’s on schedule down there?”
“It’s all in motion. I’m sure your informants have already told you that the plan’s working beautifully.”
“Yes, there was an article in the newspaper this morning. Security?”
“In place. As soon as I finish, I’ll get back and tie up any loose ends.”
“Then do it, damn you.” Melton hung up.
Arrogant son of a bitch. Hebert didn’t need Melton to tell him how tight the time frame was getting. His gut twisted every time he let himself think about it. Every move he had made lately had been either threatened or checkmated. It was as if there were some force keeping him from succeeding.
Etienne.
He closed his eyes. Ridiculous superstitious nonsense. He mustn’t panic. All he had to do was remove Duncan and Quinn, and he’d be free to concentrate on his job in Boca Raton. It would be easy to do.
Unless it was a trap.
But even if it was a trap, he’d have the advantage. Every year people disappeared into those swamps and never came out. There was death waiting for the careless around every bend of the bayou. But he was experienced enough to spring any trap—or set a deadly one of his own.
A two-hour flight and he’d be in New Orleans.
An hour later and he’d be deep in the swamp.
Waiting.
Houma
4:05 p.m.
October 25
“Shells?” Jacques Dufour shrugged. “There are shells all over the parish.”
“But this place has a very high concentration of them,” Eve said. “Professor Cassidy said you might know where it was located.”
“I might. I’ll have to think about it.”
Eve gritted her teeth. The man was as arrogant as Cassidy had told them. “Then think about it.”
“Maybe we should just go looking. My swamp tour is the best in the bayou.”
“I don’t want a tour. I want to find a place with—”
“How much?” Joe asked curtly.
“I didn’t say—” Dufour stopped as he met Joe’s gaze. “I have an idea where it might be. My cousin, Jean Pierdu, lives in an area where there are many shells.”
“Then give me his telephone number. I want to talk to him.”
Dufour smiled. “He has no telephone. People are very poor here. You’ll have to go to him. Five hundred.”
“Three hundred. And you’d better be right about the shells. I wouldn’t want you to waste your time.” Joe’s voice lowered to silky softness. “Or mine.”
“Too cheap. It’s deep in the bayou, and I might have to—”
“Maybe I didn’t make myself clear.” Joe took a step closer. “Three hundred, and you might come out of that bayou with your skin intact. Annoy me with this bullshit and you may end up alligator bait.”
Dufour’s lips tightened. “You should remember that a bayou can be a dangerous place for someone who isn’t familiar with it.”
“Three hundred.”
Dufour hesitated, then shrugged. “Three hundred.” He turned away. “We leave tomorrow morning.”
“Now.”
“I have a swamp tour in forty minutes, and after that it will be too dark to see.” He smiled maliciously. “We go very close to the trees. I think you’d want to be able to see a coral snake before it dropped in the lady’s lap.”
Joe muttered a curse as he watched Dufour swagger away from them.
“It might have gone a little better if you’d been more patient and not threatened him with the alligator,” Eve said.
“I’m tired of being patient.”
That was evident to Eve. Ever since they’d arrived at Houma, she’d been aware that Joe had gone into battle mode. She had seen that side of him only a few times since she had known him. He tried to keep the violence of both past and present apart from her. Yet she still recognized the tension, the alertness, the barely contained eagerness. Yes, eager was the word. He was eager, wanting to break loose, wanting to strike out. No wonder Dufour had backed down. “We might as well find a hotel to check into for the night,” she said. “I need to call Galen and make sure Jane’s safe.”
“Of course, she’s safe,” Galen said. “I believe I’m insulted.”
“Insulted? May I remind you that she and my mother were almost blown up?”
“Good point. But now I have them surrounded by so many of Hughes’s security men that it would take an army to get near them. Even if Hebert could breach the FBI and police guards, it would—” He stopped. “But Hebert is going to be too busy to make an attempt, isn’t he? Any sign of him?”
“Not yet. But we have a lead on the grave site. We’re at Houma and we go into the swamp tomorrow.”
“I’m very good in swamps. I think you need me. Hughes could do my job here, and I—”
“We don’t need you. Stay with Jane. Have you heard from Nathan?”
“No, but he’d more likely contact you. For some reason, he finds me a little annoying.”
“I wonder why. I’ll call you tomorrow.” She hung up.
Eve was relieved. The odds that Hebert would strike again at Jane were slim, but that hadn’t stopped her from worrying. Galen’s attitude might have seemed light, but she knew him well enough now to know that he was dead serious about his job. Jane was safe in his hands.
She stood up and moved over to the window. It had started to rain; the distant swamp looked gloomy and menacing in the early dusk.
“Did you reach Galen?”
Eve turned to see Joe standing in the doorway. “Yes, Jane’s fine.” She smiled faintly. “He wanted to come and help us. He says he’s good in swamps. I told him we didn’t need him.”
“Thank God. In my present mood I don’t think I could handle Galen’s humor. As it is, I may have to drown Dufour before this is over.”
“Did you find out anything from the department about Jennings?”
He shook his head. “Not yet. The FBI took the forensic testing away from them, but the chief is pushing hard to get all the reports as soon as they come out of the FBI labs. I asked Carol to call me as soon as the reports hit any desk in the precinct.” He made a face. “And Rusk isn’t at all pleased about our disappearing before his team got down to Georgia. He’s raising hell.”
“Tough.”
“That’s what I said.” Joe paused. “I don’t suppose you’d let me go alone to see Dufour’s cousin?”
“No.”
“I’m pretty good in the swamps myself. I learned a lot on assignment in Nicaragua when I was a SEAL.”
“I bet you did. And you can’t wait to use it.”
“No.” He held her gaze with a searing intensity that caused her eyes to widen with shock. “You’re not the only one who’s mad as hell. I almost lost you. He’s got to pay.”
Jesus.
She finally managed to tear her gaze away. “I’m going.”
“Just thought I’d try.” He turned away. “I’ll see you in the morning. I’ve got the room next door. If you need me, call.”
Eve stood staring at the door that had closed behind Joe before finally forcing herself to turn back to the window.
If you need me, call.
Her hand clenched on the drape. She did not need him.
But, God, she wanted him.
Chapter 17
1:10 p.m.
October 26
“How close are we?” Eve asked. “It seems as if we’ve been in this boat for days.”
“Only four hours.” Dufour maneuvered the motorboat around a huge mangrove branch jutting out of the water. “These bayous wind around like eels. You’re lucky you have me to guide you.” He darted a glance at Joe. “Maybe you pay me more money to take you back.”
Joe didn’t look at him. “You’re pushing it.”
“It’s a terrible thing to be lost in the swamp.”
“I’m not lost.” Joe’s gaze shifted to Dufour’s face. “I memorized every turn you’ve taken from the time we left the dock. Do you want me to repeat them back to you?”
Dufour blinked, disconcerted. “No.” He quickly looked back at the muddy water ahead. “Can’t you take a joke? A deal is a deal.”
Joe smiled without mirth. “That’s my philosophy.”
Eve didn’t doubt that Joe had told the truth about knowing where they were, but she didn’t see how. The weather was chilly and damp, and ever since they had left the dock, it had been like being in an alien world. Scraggly cypress trees formed a dark canopy over the narrow, muddy waterway. Brown-black snakes occasionally glided by the boat, and skeletal trees clung with desperation to the bottom of the bayou, fighting for life in this hostile environment. And the vegetation was not the only thing fighting for life.
“What are those shacks on those little islands? Do people actually live there?” Eve asked.
“My cousin, Jean, would not be pleased to hear you call his home a shack. His place is very like those houses. Though most of the places we’ve passed are used primarily as camps by hunters and fishermen,” Dufour said. “But as you go deeper you find Cajuns who live as well as hunt in the swamps and marshes. I told you the people were poor here; they don’t have the guts to get out and earn real money like I do. So they’re lucky to have a roof over their head.”
“Sometimes overcoming poverty isn’t a matter of guts.”
He shrugged. “Guts or stupidity.”
“Why are the houses built on stilts? The ground comes up to the front door.”
“That’s not the ground, it’s mud. This area is close to the ocean and, when the tide comes in, it brings the mud with it. When the tide goes out, the houses would sink below the water if they weren’t on pilings.”
“What a precarious way to live,” Eve murmured. Precarious and sad. “How deep is that mud?”
“Sometimes five or six feet.” Dufour grinned. “Not good if you’re a sleepwalker. You drop off the porch and you have a mouthful of slime.” He pointed to a shack several yards ahead. “That’s Jean’s place.”
It was another small cypress shack, built on stilts and linked to the bayou by a narrow pier. A woman came out onto the porch and stood staring unsmilingly at them. She was small, thin, and very pregnant. Two small boys garbed only in dirty T-shirts and underpants were clinging to her skirts.
“Don’t stand there gawping at us, Marguerite,” Dufour said as he guided the boat close to the makeshift pier. “Tell Jean he has guests.”
“We don’t want the kind of guests you bring us. We’ve no use for tourists.” She glanced at Eve. “If you want to see how we Cajuns live, then go somewhere else. Leave us alone.”
“Such rudeness.” Dufour clucked reprovingly. “I’ll have to tell Jean to beat you more often.” He tied the boat and jumped out on the pier. “Is he here?”
She nodded. “He won’t want to see you.”
“Yes, he will. There’s money to be had.” He glanced at the woman’s swollen belly. “And you can obviously use money right now. Two children under five years and another mouth to feed on the way?”
She hesitated, then turned on her heel. “Bring them.”
“Stay here, Eve.” Joe jumped out of the boat and strode toward the shack. “I’ll just take a little look around.”
Eve stiffened as he disappeared into the house. Joe was obviously in protective mode. The hell she’d stay here.
She scrambled out of the boat, but was only halfway up the wooden dock when Joe came to the door and waved for her to come in. She breathed a sigh of relief.
They were safe.
For now.
“I might know of such a place,” Jean Pierdu said slowly. “How much?”
“Five hundred to take us there,” Joe said. “And another five hundred if you can tell us anything that might be of interest to us about it.”
Jean gazed at him impassively. “I know nothing about shells.”
“What do you know about graves?” Eve asked.
His expression didn’t change. “We keep to ourselves here.”
“But that doesn’t mean you don’t know exactly what’s going on,” Dufour said. “I heard rumors there were outsiders here a few years ago. We don’t care about outsiders, Jean. Why not get a little money for yourself?”
“We need it, Jean,” Marguerite said quietly. “He’s right, why should we care about outsiders?”
“Don’t interfere, Marguerite.” Jean was silent a moment, and then slowly nodded. “A thousand.”
“I can tell you and Dufour are related,” Joe said dryly. “Seven hundred.”
“Give him the thousand, Joe.” Eve’s gaze was fixed on Marguerite and the two children.
Joe smiled faintly. “Okay.” He turned back to Jean. “Where is it?”
“The money.”
Joe reached for his wallet and counted out the cash. “Satisfied?”
Jean nodded and stuffed the money in his pocket. “There are two islands about four miles from here. They’re in a little natural pocket of the swamp, and they caught the bulk of the shells when the floods came. That might be what you’re looking for.”
“They’re little mud islands like this one?” Eve asked.
Jean nodded. “I’ve lived here all my life and I’ve never run across anywhere else that had that many shells.”
“Are the islands close together?”
“Yes.” He paused. “But you’ll only be interested in the second one. There’s nothing on the other.”
Joe stiffened. “And what’s on the second one?”
“You won’t find your grave. It’s not there anymore.”
“But it was there?”
“Get more money,” Marguerite said.
Jean gave her an annoyed glance. “I was going to do that.”
Joe peeled off another five hundred. “Was there a grave?”
Jean nodded. “Two. Not marked. But they were there. I saw Etienne digging them. He was having a hard time. He said he had to anchor the bodies to the pilings because he didn’t want to chance the bodies being washed out and found.”
“Etienne Hebert? You knew him?”
Jean nodded again. “He came about the time the other two came. But he wasn’t like them. He was Cajun like us.”
“What other two? When?”
“About two years ago. Two men came and hired some of us to build them a house on the island and then forget they were there.” He shrugged. “The money was good. Why should we care what they were doing? As long as they didn’t sell their drugs to our children, they could make all the powders they wanted. It wasn’t our business.”
“You thought they were into drugs?”
“We knew they were. Etienne told us. He would come and bring a bottle of wine and sit in that very chair and tell us about all the supplies that he brought down the bayou from Houma to the island.”
“He was a nice man,” Marguerite said. “You’re not going to get him into trouble? He wasn’t to blame.”
“No, I promise Etienne won’t get into trouble,” Eve said.
“He always said that those crazy men would blow themselves up with all those chemicals they had him bring,” Marguerite said. “He was sad. I think he liked them.”
“And what happened to them?”
“What Etienne said would happen. One night there was a big explosion. When we went to see what happened, we found Etienne digging two graves. He told us to go away and forget what had happened. He said the police mustn’t know, or they would think we were all criminals, too.”
“And that’s what you did?”
“We’re not fools. The police think we’re scum. Etienne was right.”
“And what were the two men’s names?” Joe asked.
“What do you think?” Jean’s tone dripped sarcasm. “Smith and Jones. Do you think they’d give us their real names?”
“How long were they on the island before the explosion?” Eve asked.
“Four months, maybe. They came to us two months before that, but we wasted a little time because we started building on the first island. Then they decided it would be better to go a little deeper into the swamp, and we had to start again on the second.”
“How far apart are they?”
“About a mile. But a mile can make a big difference in the swamp.”
“You said you knew the grave wasn’t there anymore. How do you know that?”
“Etienne came back. He told us that the police were asking questions and he had to get rid of the skeletons.” Jean grimaced. “Trust the police to worry about dirt like that and try to cause us trouble. It wasn’t our fault they blew themselves up.”
“What do you know about Etienne’s brother?”
Jean frowned. “He has a brother?”
“He didn’t talk about him?”
Jean shook his head.
“That’s enough,” Dufour said. “Don’t tell them anything else unless they give you more money, Jean.” He smiled. “And a little bonus for me for bringing them to you.”
“You’ve probably squeezed enough out of them without dipping into my pockets,” Jean said. “And I’ll need all my money if me and my family have to disappear for a while.”
“Why do you have to do that?”
“You think I trust you or these people?” He looked at Joe. “We did nothing. We’re not responsible for how those crackheads died. They did it to themselves.”
“We’re not blaming you,” Eve said. “You don’t have to run away.”
Jean ignored her. “Pack up, Marguerite.”
“We need you to take us to this island,” Joe said.
“Why? I told you, there’s nothing there.”
“There may be more than you think.”
Jean gave an exasperated exclamation. “Waste of time.” He stood up and headed for the door. “You want to see the place? You have a guide. I’m through with this.” He motioned to Dufour. “Come on, Jacques. I’ll walk you to the boat and tell you where it is.”
Joe moved after them. “I think I’ll tag along and listen in. I want to make sure we’re heading in the right direction.”
Eve was about to follow Joe out of the house, but stopped beside Marguerite, who was pulling out clothes from a scratched, shabby pine bureau. “Where will you go?”
“That’s none of your business.”
“We really mean you no harm.”
“Go away.”
Eve started for the door.
“Wait.” Marguerite was silent a moment. “We’ll be all right. We’ll go stay with friends for awhile until we’re sure it’s safe to come back. No one can find us in this swamp unless we want to be found.”
“If you knew you’d have to run away like this, why did you take the money?”
Marguerite looked at her in wonder. “We needed it. It may not seem like a lot to you, but that much money will keep my children fed for months.” She pulled out a faded duffel bag from beneath the bed. “It’s worth the risk.”
“Eve,” Joe called from outside.
“Coming.”
Joe’s gaze raked her face as she came down the pier. “Did you convince her that we don’t mean to toss her family in jail?”
“No, she wouldn’t believe me. But she said the money was worth the risk. Those two little boys . . . I wonder if they get enough to eat. Poverty
sucks,
Joe.”
Joe nodded, his gaze on Jean. “That’s not all it does.”
She went still. “What do you mean?”
“It was a little too easy. It should have been harder to dig that information out of him.”
She nodded thoughtfully. “And it was a little odd that they didn’t know Etienne had a brother. From what we’ve heard, Etienne wasn’t the most discreet person in the world.”
He smiled. “I thought you were so concerned about those two little kids that you weren’t paying attention.”
“I’m sympathetic, not blind. You think Hebert got to Jean and set up a trap?”
“It’s possible.”
“Then his story is all a lie?”
“Not necessarily. The best lies are always the ones founded on truth.” He gazed thoughtfully out at the bayou. “Etienne probably did spin them a tale about a drug lab, and Jean and his neighbors did turn a blind eye. That doesn’t mean that Jules Hebert didn’t pop in last night and offer them enough money to make our bribe seem piddling.”
A chill went through her. “Then he’ll be waiting at the island.”
“That’s my guess.”
She drew a deep breath. “Good. Now how do we find a—”
“Later.” He turned and helped her into the boat. “Leave it to me.”
Like she’d left it to him when he’d dumped her by the road outside New Orleans?
No way.