“I’m sorry, ma’am,” he said with a heavy Southern drawl. “Are you okay?”

  “I think so,” I said, mentally checking myself. “But my coffee isn’t. Oh, there’s my phone.”

  “Here, I’ll get it.” He bent over and retrieved the phone. Handing it to me, he added, “Let me buy you another cup of coffee.”

  “That’s not necessary. That was my second cup. I probably didn’t need more caffeine anyway.”

  “Come on. It’s the least I can do for being a distracted walker.”

  His drawl and gorgeous blue eyes made it hard for me to refuse his offer. “Okay, let’s go back inside.”

  He opened the door and stepped in behind me. Two women seated at a nearby table eyed him boldly. I had to admit he was good looking and that five-o’clock shadow positively sexy.

  At the register, he paid for another latte for me and ordered a cup of coffee for himself. I asked for mine in another to-go cup.

  “By the way, my name is Jack Holden.” He smiled and his expression suggested I should tell him mine.

  “Susan Foret.”

  “Would you care to sit awhile?”

  Fast mover, this guy. I think I’ll pass. “Sorry, but I was headed to an appointment. Thanks for the coffee.”

  He looked disappointed, but nodded. “Again, I apologize for running into you, but not sorry I met you.”

  My laugh sounded nervous even to me. He was very attractive and charming, but I felt guilty about thinking so.

  My car felt like an oven after sitting in the sun. Heat build-up doesn’t take long in ninety-five degree weather. I put the air conditioner on full blast and drove back to Megan’s office.

  The small parking lot had available space for four vehicles. There were presently three. In light of the close quarters, I decided to park on the street across from the office.

  After locking my car I started to cross the street. A black pick-up truck seemed to appear out of nowhere heading straight for me. The deer-in-the-headlights syndrome came over me. I couldn’t move. My heart raced. The driver wasn’t slowing down. Move! Get to the office.

  I heard a scream. My adrenaline kicked in. I scrambled across the street, ending up on the curb. The truck sped away with tires screeching.

  I lay on the sidewalk with eyes closed trying to slow my pulse and my breathing. Seconds later I heard voices both male and female.

  “Susan, are you hurt?” I felt a hand on my shoulder.

  I opened my eyes to see Josh stooped beside me. “I don’t think so.”

  He helped me to my feet. “What happened? We heard your scream and tires squealing.”

  My scream? At the time I didn’t realize the sound came from me.

  “Black truck…tried to run me over,” I panted.

  “Come inside,” Megan said, leading the way up the front steps. “Do you want me to take you to the ER?”

  “For heaven’s sake, no,” I insisted. “I’m not hurt except for a couple of scrapes on my hands. I’m shook up…and mad. Staring at the front grill of a truck is not fun.”

  “You should call the cops.” Josh said. “They won’t be able to do anything without a license number, but a report will be on file.”

  I thought a moment. This happened in the city limits. “Okay, I’d rather talk to Cypress Lake PD than Brad’s crew.”

  Josh nodded in agreement. I phoned the police station and asked for Ken Wallace, who held the position of chief. He had worked for Jim for several years and was of considerable help to Danny in apprehending Jim’s killers and rescuing me from their clutches. I trusted him.

  “Someone tried to run me down and almost made it. The driver left the scene. I’m not hurt, but I want to file a report.” I told him my location.

  “I’ll be over there in fifteen minutes,” Ken said.

  The chief arrived with Toby Hahn, another officer who had worked for Jim during his tenure as chief. Despite the fact Toby was in his late twenties, he looked like a teenager. He probably didn’t seem like much of a threat to the bad guys with his cherubic face. According to Jim, Toby’s innocent look was a great advantage to his crime fighting skills.

  We all settled in a conference room down the hall from the three private offices. I sat across the table from him and Toby. The others gathered around in the remaining seats except for Josh who moved his chair back against the wall. Guess he wanted a full view of the group.

  Ken’s nickname ‘Bulldog’ had a double meaning. His short stocky frame and his square jaw with a slight overbite resembled his namesake, but his resolve in going after criminals also brought to mind the tenacity of a bulldog.

  “Tell me exactly what happened.”

  I provided the details. “Sorry I couldn’t get a license number.” I glanced at the others. “Did anyone else?”

  Negative responses came from the group.

  “The truck had disappeared by the time we ran outside to see what had happened,” Josh said. A frown creased his brow. He looked disgusted, most likely at himself for not being fast or vigilant enough. As I recalled from our past association, he was proud of his skills as an investigator.

  “Can you describe the truck?” Toby Hahn asked.

  “The truck was a black GMC. I’m positive of that, but I couldn’t tell you the model. It looked fairly new.”

  “What about the driver?”

  I shook my head. “With the windshield tint so dark, I couldn’t tell what he looked like.”

  Toby looked up from the notebook he had been writing in. “You referred to the driver as ‘he.’ You believe a man drove the truck?”

  “I suppose the driver could be a woman. But I don’t know of any women who have it out for me.”

  Ken almost smiled. “Maybe the driver didn’t have a grudge against you. He or she could have been intoxicated and left the scene to keep from being arrested.”

  “The driver might have been drunk. However, I’m certain he or she sped up intentionally when I started across the street.”

  Ken turned to Toby. “Check out the neighboring offices and see if anyone else could give us more information.”

  Toby rose from his chair and smiled. “It’s good to see you again, Ms. Foret. Sorry it’s under these circumstances.”

  “Thanks Toby, good to see you too.” My circumstances always seem to be a bad occasion when it comes to speaking to police.

  Twenty-five

  “Was there a reason you returned to the office?” Megan regarded me with a curious look as did the others.

  I suddenly had second thoughts about revealing my visit to the Gallagher place. However, I couldn’t very well blow off the question. “There was something I thought might be related, but maybe not.”

  “Tell me anyway. We can use all the help we can get.”

  “There was an odd incident at the reception after Celina’s funeral. I was speaking to Willow, Celina’s sister when a man came into the room.” I furnished the details concerning Willow’s reaction to this man and Brad’s identification of Kenny Verrett as a former diver with Gallagher Salvage.

  Megan looked at Josh. “What do you think? Could he be related to Celina’s murder?”

  He pursed his lips and nodded. “It’s possible. Of course, this guy could be an ex-boyfriend of Willow’s as the sheriff suggested. It can’t hurt to check him out, though.”

  “Now that all the excitement is over for the day, I’m going to go home and relieve Steven of his babysitting duties.”

  “Be careful,” Megan said. “I’ll call to let him know you’re on your way.”

  Josh insisted on following me home. He wouldn’t take no for an answer. I could be accused of distracted driving, but as I drove toward my house, my thoughts turned to Taylor’s reading. Is Josh the unnamed man to whom she referred?

  He hasn’t actually expressed any romantic interest in me. If so, I couldn’t imagine what ulterior motive he could have for pretending to have feelings for me. Maybe I hadn’t met this man yet. Or Taylor could be mistaken about the whole business. There was no man.

  Jack Holden suddenly came to mind. No, meeting him was a one-time deal—merely a pleasant episode designed by a Higher Power to make me feel like I was still attractive to men.

  When I pulled up in my driveway and exited the car, I waved an invite for Josh to come inside, but surprisingly he declined. So much for appearing to have a romantic interest in me.

  My thoughts turned to Jim. I felt guilty for even thinking about relationships with other men. If I did start to date again, how would I explain another man to the twins? Would they accuse me of being disloyal to their father?

  Later in the evening after the kids were in bed, I tried to figure out why I changed my mind about telling Megan and the others of my suspicions about the immigration status of O.J. and Lucie.

  What exactly did Gallagher Salvage do? Salvage operations usually recovered ships that had sunk or were damaged beyond repair. Was the Gallagher family working on a business operation when the pirates boarded their boat? Or was the family on a pleasure trip to the Caribbean?

  I went to my computer to search for any newspaper articles about the incident. It would have happened before we moved to Cypress Lake. So that would be at least nine years ago. Considering the prominence of the family in Allemand Parish, I had to assume there would have been local newspaper coverage even if it was merely about the funeral. There could have also been television coverage on one or more New Orleans stations.

  According to an article from the Cypress Lake News, the attack on the Gallaghers’ boat occurred on July 23, 2007. So the visit I witnessed at the cemetery by Claire and her sons marked the ten year anniversary of the incident.

  According to the article, the family was on a diving trip off several uninhabited islands south of Jamaica. There was no indication whether they were in search of a sunken ship to salvage as part of a business deal, or not. The craft they were on was listed as being a twenty-five footer which didn’t seem large enough for a salvage operation. But what do I know about salvage? Hardly anything. I read further down the article which stated the pirates allegedly boarded the vessel and shot Claire and her husband, disabled the boat and waited for her sons to surface from their dive.

  Curiously, Gary Gallagher was shot and killed upon boarding the boat. Maybe I’m reading in between the lines incorrectly, but it sounded like Gary went on board alone. Didn’t he realize something was wrong?

  Mike Doucet came away uninjured. Where was he when his brother was shot? It seems Mike fixed whatever mechanical problem the pirates had caused and managed to get Claire to a hospital in Kingston, Jamaica.

  If I had been investigating this attack, I would have a lot of questions for Mike. It seemed strange the pirates didn’t shoot him too. I thought these modern-day pirates were ocean versions of carjackers. Why didn’t they take the boat instead of simply disabling it?

  I looked up the Gallagher Salvage web site. A short history of the business was listed. The company, originally named Duplessis Marine Salvage, belonged to Claire’s father, Robert Duplessis. Upon his death, the business passed to Claire and her husband, Walt, and they changed the business name to Gallagher Salvage.

  Whoa! Wait a minute. A bio of Robert Duplessis included in the company history stated he loved to search for sunken Spanish galleons. He claimed he unfortunately never located any of those jewel-laden ships.

  I recalled reading articles about so-called treasure hunters who discovered galleons sunk in the Caribbean and recovered immense riches. Emeralds were commonly in the cargo, along with gold, silver, and other jewels from the New World.

  Could there be a story or video on a New Orleans television station in their archives that I might be able to view? I doubt a person like me who has no official connection to the story would be allowed to look at any such video…but Remi Granger would. Also I was certain Rachel knew more details about what happened from local talk.

  I couldn’t do anything this late tonight. Tomorrow is another day.

  Twenty-six

  Friday, July 31

  The next morning I phoned Rachel and invited her over for coffee. She knocked on the door a few minutes later. I waved her inside.

  She appeared upset. “Why didn’t you tell me about almost being run down in the street?”

  “How did you find out?”

  “Steven called me this morning and asked me to check on you. I was getting ready to come over here when you called.”

  “I swear Steven is becoming an old lady. I’m perfectly fine.”

  “He wants to make sure you’re okay. Don’t be mad at him.”

  “I’m not mad, I’m annoyed. Come sit down and I’ll tell you all about it.”

  I filled two mugs with coffee and brought them to the kitchen table. Seated next to her, I wrapped my hands around the warm cup. Thinking about the incident chilled me to the bone. I would have preferred to block the close call from my mind.

  “Okay, tell me what happened,” she said, her voice stern.

  “Megan asked me to come to Carole Bordelon’s office to talk about the day Alex came to the food pantry.” I delivered a brief rundown of my interview with the two attorneys. “I left and went to get a latte at the new coffee shop by City Hall. I remembered another piece of information I should have told Megan and decided to return to the law office.” By leaving out the part about Jack Holden, I felt like a school girl keeping secrets from her mother.

  “So you went back and that’s when the truck almost hit you?”

  “Yes, their small parking lot next door was almost full so I found a space on the street across from the office. The driver never slowed down. In fact I believe he or she sped up. I barely made it across the street.”

  “I understand you called CLPD and Ken came with Toby to take a report.”

  I took a swallow of coffee. “That’s about it. I have no idea who would try to kill me unless a family member of one of those who murdered Jim has it out for me for trying to send their loved ones to prison.”

  Rachel grimaced. “That’s a scary thought.”

  “I’m fine now. I wasn’t hurt, so let’s drop the subject. There’s something I am curious about and thought you might know more details than what was in the newspaper article.”

  She arched a brow. “I almost hate to ask, but what is it?”

  “What can you tell me about the attack on the Gallaghers’ boat? Was there any suspicion that Claire’s or her son’s account of the incident didn’t happen exactly as they said?”

  Rachel reflected on my question for a long moment. “There was some skepticism among the Jamaican police and local law enforcement here considering the fact Mike was uninjured and the boat wasn’t stolen.”

  “My thoughts exactly when I read the newspaper account. Didn’t the Jamaican authorities follow up on their suspicions and investigate?”

  “Local gossip suggested Claire paid them off in order for her and Mike to be able to leave the country. She needed more extensive medical care than could be provided there. I guess she didn’t want to stick around for all the red tape involved in an investigation. Eventually the case went cold; the attackers were never found.”

  I shrugged. “That stands to reason if they were your run of the mill pirates.”

  She looked at me inquisitively. “Why are you pursuing a ten year old event? Do you believe the Gallaghers have a connection to Celina’s murder?”

  I nodded. “I believe there is a link, but it’s nothing I can pinpoint. I detected an aura of animosity when I saw them at the cemetery.”

  Rachel confirmed my feeling with a nod of acknowledgement. “According to people who know the family, Claire and Rick have been at odds a lot since the incident on the boat. And also bad blood between Rick and Mike.”

  “Rick wasn’t with them?”

  “No, he doesn’t care about boats or the salvage business.”

  “I don’t see how Mike came away uninjured. Maybe Rick feels the same suspicions I do about the account given by Claire and Mike.

  “Quite possible,” she said. “Rick may believe his brother and father were not killed by ordinary pirates. But could he truly suspect his own mother and/or his half-brother had something to do with the murders of Walt and Gary?

  “The idea of people killing other family members has been around since time began. Remember Cain and Abel.”

  Twenty-seven

  I peered out the kitchen window at the sound of a car door slamming. Megan walked around the front of her silver BMW toward my front door. She looked so cool and professional in her black skirt, long-sleeved white blouse and black heels complete with hosiery. I would be dripping with sweat in this heat. I unlocked the door and greeted her before she could ring the bell.

  “You could have come through the side door like most people I know,” I teased. “You’re family.”

  She looked amused. “I’m here on official business so I decided to be formal.”

  “Official business? Is this about Alex’s case?” I ushered her inside and into the family room.

  Seated on the sofa, Megan took a sheet of paper from her briefcase and handed it to me. The note, written on Allemande Parish Sheriff’s Office letterhead, allowed me to enter the hospital room of Alex Narcisse and speak with him for twenty minutes.

  “I made arrangements for you to speak to him in his hospital room this afternoon at two. I hoped for a longer time, but didn’t want to push my luck. He didn’t want you involved at all.”

  I widened my eyes. “I can’t believe Brad agreed to my visit. How did you get him to allow me access?”

  “All I can say is what happened was strange.”

  “Strange?”

  “I tried to convince him that you had gained Alex’s confidence when he came to the food pantry. I felt like you would be able to get through to him to tell the truth. Of course he was skeptical because what I was asking would be the prosecutor’s job to prove his guilt.” Her tone of voice displayed her annoyance.

  I forced a laugh. “I can imagine what he said to that.”