I jumped when the doorbell rang. Who could that be? I wasn’t expecting visitors. Through the peephole, I spotted Josh standing on the doorstep.

  “Hey,” I said. “What’s up?”

  “I thought you might want an update on our friend Alex or other subjects.”

  “You know I do. Nothing bad has happened, has it?”

  His serious expression upgraded into a smile. “It’s a mixture of good news and bad.”

  I invited him inside with a wave. “Would you like some coffee?” I raised a finger in the air. “Or better yet, how about some iced tea?”

  “Tea sounds great. It’s pretty warm out there.”

  Opening the refrigerator, I turned to him. “Sweet or unsweet?”

  “Sweet, of course.” He offered one of those lopsided grins I’d seen him give a few times. “Someone once told me drinking unsweet tea in the South is heresy.”

  I laughed. Amazing what laughter can do to raise a person’s spirits. “Oops, guess I commit heresy every time I drink iced tea. Most sweet tea is too sugary for my taste, which is why I make two pitchers, one of each.” I brought the glasses of tea to the table. “Why are you still standing? Have a seat.”

  Josh pulled out a chair and sat. He took a large swallow from his glass. “Delicious. Now about Alex…he decided to cooperate with Megan and Carole about how he got to Louisiana. That’s the good news. I’m not at liberty to divulge the details yet. Carole is trying to contact ICE about a number of things, including his immigration status. The bad news is we still need to prove he didn’t kill Celina Baum.”

  “Brad isn’t going to agree to drop murder charges against him, is he?”

  He shook his head. “Neither is the DA They’re out for blood.” He gulped down more iced tea. “Would you be willing to talk about the day you and Rachel found Celina’s body?”

  I clasped both hands around my glass. A chill flowed down my spine, and not from handling the icy beverage. At the moment this was not what I wanted to do. Recalling the scene would dredge up bad memories not only of another body but of Jim’s death as well.

  He apparently sensed my apprehension. “If you’d rather not, I understand.”

  “No, I’ll tell you what I remember.” I told him everything I recalled, including my impression of a crowd of people trampling the grass.

  Elbow on the table, he stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Your story corresponds with Alex’s version. Locating one or two of those people will be next to impossible.”

  “I agree. Most would be afraid to come forward.”

  “True, but first we’d have to find any of the people who were smuggled in.”

  “Where do you suppose these people were taken after landing in Allemand Parish?

  “Most likely New Orleans,” he said. “They could easily assimilate and never be seen again.”

  “Sounds logical.” Since I wasn’t certain he would believe my claim of a link, I proceeded with caution. “On another subject I believe is connected. Have you heard about the latest shooting?”

  “You mean Mike Doucet? A contact of mine told me he’s in critical condition, but is expected to survive his injuries. Doctors have him heavily sedated so he can’t be interviewed for a couple of days. The word is he was shot and also dragged out of his truck and beat up. He’s got some head injuries.”

  I drew in a breath. “Someone really wanted him dead.”

  “Why do you believe these are linked?” He narrowed his gaze on my face. “Did you pick up on anything when you visited the Gallaghers’ place? I mean, other than the two possible Haitians.”

  “I got the impression from the conversation between Marcie Gallagher and Jill Doucet I overheard that Marcie was upset Jill allowed me to enter their compound. She kept telling Jill in so many words Claire will be upset that a stranger was allowed to come inside the house.

  “Several days after Rachel and I discovered Celina’s body, I saw Claire and her two sons at the cemetery. The whole scene of them at the gravesite of Walt and Gary Gallagher exuded animosity among the three.”

  “How so?”

  I explained how Rick stood back, leaning against their van while Claire and Mike appeared to be there to honor their deceased loved ones. “Maybe I imagined the dissention, but I don’t think so. From what I’ve heard, there’s been bad blood between the two brothers since the attack on their boat in the Caribbean.”

  He appeared to consider my version of the scene. “Might be something to look into. You haven’t had any more close calls lately, have you? No one who seems to be following you?”

  “No one’s tried to run me down again, if that’s what you mean. I haven’t felt like anyone’s been following me or stalking me either.” Unless Jack Holden qualifies.

  Thirty-five

  Josh gave me the strangest look. “Is something wrong?”

  I began to wonder if he was psychic. “No, why do you ask?”

  “The look on your face suggested you thought of something pertaining to my previous question.”

  “There is a man…no never mind. It’s probably nothing.”

  He leaned forward in his chair. “Uh uh, that’s not going to work. Who is this man and what did he do to make you suspicious?”

  “He says his name is Jack Holden. He keeps popping up at some of the same places I happen to be in, including the cemetery when I went to visit Jim.”

  Josh’s eyes widened. “Sounds like stalking to me or close to it. What else can you tell me about this guy?”

  Have I opened a can of worms? “He said he’s from Mississippi, which I could have figured out without his acknowledgement because of his drawl. He claimed to work offshore on a rig and was on his days off.”

  “What’s he look like?”

  “He’s about your height and build, but with dark hair and large blue eyes.”

  Josh’s expression clouded. “Where else besides the cemetery did you run into him?”

  “Twice at the new coffee shop—Coffee Heaven. Do you know him?”

  “No, I don’t think so. Whoever he is, you need to stay away from him.”

  I shrugged. “I’m curious to know if he’s coming on to me because he truly wants to get to know me or if he has ulterior motives. I asked Danny if he’d heard of the town he was from in Mississippi. He said he had, but his reaction seemed strange.”

  His stern look surprised me. “Running into you at the coffee shop might indicate he’s interested in you, but not the cemetery unless he has a relative or friend buried there.”

  Funny, that’s almost the same words Rachel used. Guess I’m an idiot for not recognizing he wanted something from me.

  The school bus rumbled to a stop in front of the house. I heard Matthew yell and another kid respond.

  Josh perked up. “Sounds like a disagreement out there.”

  “Good heavens, I hope Matthew’s not getting in a fight. It’s only the second day of school.”

  Josh followed me outside to see what had happened.

  I saw what appeared to be a stand-off between Matthew and an older boy who lived down the street. Matthew was smaller in size than that boy, who I thought might be a fifth grader.

  “What’s going on?” I asked, walking toward the pair.

  The two kept attempting to stare each other down. Finally the older boy mumbled something I couldn’t hear, and then started walked toward his house.

  Matthew glared at me. “I could’ve taken care of him myself. I didn’t need you to take up for me.” He marched across the lawn and into the house after glaring at Josh. I stood there stunned without moving for a moment or two.

  Caroline waited for me at the door. “I can tell you what happened.”

  “I’d rather have Matthew explain to me. It would be like tattling if you tell me the story.”

  She lowered her gaze. “I guess so.”

  I brushed my hand over her hair and gave a small smile. “Do you remember Mr. Josh?”

  “I think so,” she said. “It was a long time ago.” Her expression brightened. “You came to our house with Aunt Megan.”

  “That right.” Josh smiled. “It’s nice to see you again, Caroline.”

  She didn’t seem to mind his presence. At least she returned his smile.

  “Go and get changed out of your uniform,” I said. “I’ll fix you and your brother a snack.”

  She skipped down the hall to her room.

  “Cute kid,” Josh said. “But your son definitely didn’t like me.”

  “Well, he wasn’t in the best of moods. He didn’t like my interference into his business. That I stopped his fight.”

  “You really have your hands full. I take it your problems with him started after Jim’s death.”

  I blew out a deep breath. “Yes, that’s true. I need to go have a talk with him.”

  “Then I’m going to take off,” he said. “I’ll keep you informed when I can.”

  Long after Josh left, I kept rehashing what he said about the immigrants and their possible destination: New Orleans. If Lucie and O.J. Celestine were undocumented Haitians, how did they end up remaining in Allemand Parish and not being shipped off to New Orleans? Could there be safe houses near here?

  I tried to visualize an area in the parish that might fit the bill. Nothing came to mind at first. Then I recalled a neighborhood near the outskirts of Foretville. Small wood frame homes, including a few shotgun houses lined a two street area and occupied by low income families.

  ~ * ~

  Jill Doucet’s gaze centered on her husband lying in the hospital bed. She reached for his hand and entwined her fingers with his. The doctors told her his chances for a full recovery were excellent. They wanted him sedated to allow his body to recover from the trauma of being shot and beaten. Talking to the police might upset him too much.

  She understood their reasoning, but she feared, perhaps irrationally, he wouldn’t wake up. A slight noise behind her startled her. She cringed.

  Marcie, of all people. This irritating woman with her color coordinated outfits was not who she wanted to see. Every piece of clothing she had on today from her Capri pants and tee shirt to her sandals was bright teal, along with earrings and bracelet to match. Her nails were even painted the same color.

  “How is he?” The look of concern on her face seemed fake.

  “As well as he can be expected to be for someone who was shot and beat up.” She met Marcie’s gaze. “But don’t worry, the doctors believe he’s going to survive.”

  A flicker of emotion Jill couldn’t decipher passed over her sister-in-law’s face. Marcie always did have a thing for Mike. Was she truly concerned about his condition? Or was she sorry he was expected to live? Or both?

  More questions bothered her. Why hasn’t Claire been up here to check on her son? Did she send Marcie instead?

  ~ * ~

  Jack Holden, my ass. Josh fumed all the way back to the law office. I’m willing to bet my last dime he and Keith Parker are one and the same. But what was the former Army MP doing here? I thought he was Parker when I passed him on the street a few days ago. But he didn’t acknowledge me at the time so I brushed it off as mistaken identity.

  One reason Parker may not admit knowing him is he’s working undercover for a federal agency like ICE. Their agents were in the area. But what was his interest in Susan? He didn’t blame Parker for being attracted to her, but following her to the cemetery seemed over the top. If Parker worked undercover, he might believe she had information he needed or else she was connected to their investigation here.

  He also could have taken a new identity for some other reason like creditors or even the law. In which case he’s out to get what he can from a beautiful and possibly vulnerable woman.

  Either way, Susan would end up being hurt or in trouble with the law. Parker wasn’t going to hurt Susan…federal agent or otherwise. Not if he could help it.

  Thirty-six

  I brought Matthew his afterschool snack in his room where he’d escaped to after rushing inside. I set the saucer of apple slices on his dresser. “I brought you a snack.”

  He pouted. “I’m not hungry.”

  “Matthew, will you tell me what that business out front was all about?” I tried not to sound accusatory.

  He lowered his eyes for a long moment. Finally he looked me straight in the eyes. “Was Dad really murdered?”

  Taken aback, I couldn’t speak for a few seconds. “Of course he was. The people who killed him were arrested. I thought you knew he was murdered.”

  “Then why do other kids keep saying he killed himself? That he was a coward?”

  The more he said, the madder I became. “Because they don’t know any better.” This didn’t make sense. “Who are these kids who told you this?”

  He hesitated.

  “I know it’s not cool to name names, but I really want to find out why they’re doing this. It’s bullying and that’s not right.”

  “Mark Hernandez was the guy out front today,” he said.

  Hernandez? Joe Hernandez was one of the Cypress Lake police officers involved with the men who murdered Jim. “Do you know if Caroline has had problems, too?”

  He nodded. “She told me a girl in her class and her brother who is in second grade keeps on telling her the same thing.”

  “Is their last name also Hernandez?”

  “I think so.”

  “Mom?” Caroline stood in the doorway of Matthew’s room. “He’s right. Their names are Cindy Hernandez and her brother’s name is Kirk. They keep picking on me too. Cindy said her father didn’t kill my dad. He killed himself.”

  I didn’t know how to answer her charge. Children take things so literally. Joe Hernandez didn’t kill Jim. Jack LeBlanc and Bill Kaufman were the men responsible for the actual murder. Joe was involved in other parts of the illegal operations conducted by those two men who killed Jim, including kidnapping me.

  “Mr. Hernandez took part in an illegal business that the two men who killed your father were operating. He wasn’t arrested for murder.”

  Matthew frowned. “So why do they keep saying Dad killed himself?”

  “The children are confused about what happened. I suppose they don’t understand why he was arrested if he didn’t kill your father.”

  “Well, I’m going to set them straight,” he snapped. “Next time Mark tells me that stuff I’m going to punch him.”

  Oh, good heavens. “You will do no such thing. Fighting isn’t going to solve anything. I know this is difficult to do, but when they start hassling you, walk away.” I eyed each child to get an answer.

  Caroline agreed, but Matthew found it harder to go along with my solution. Finally he said yes, he would walk away.

  “Can we tell them their dad wasn’t arrested for our dad’s murder,” Caroline asked.

  I wasn’t sure that would work, but…“It couldn’t hurt to try.”

  I left them discussing the Hernandez kids and how to handle the hassling if the situation arose again, which I thought was pretty grown-up.

  An adult like Mary Hernandez, their mother, needed to explain the situation to them so they understood the circumstances completely. I wanted to phone her and make clear what had been happening. Legally I couldn’t.

  Joe had been charged with several offenses including kidnapping when he and Jack LeBlanc took me to a deserted camp as a prisoner on orders from Bill Kaufman, the former mayor. They planned to get rid of me and then all escape. Luckily they didn’t. I will be called upon to testify at the trial or trials if each were tried separately.

  I wondered if my kids and I would be subjected to these painful reminders for the rest of our lives. My stomach lurched at the thought.

  Thirty-seven

  Friday, August 7

  I waved to the kids as they boarded the school bus and then started to go back inside the house. Danny’s voice stopped me.

  “If you have a minute, I’d like to ask you a few questions.” His tone sounded serious and his countenance matched.

  I forced a laugh and tried to sound lighthearted. “Are you going to interrogate me?

  His expression lightened. “Not unless you’ve done something criminal. Seriously, I wanted to clarify some info on the subject we talked about a few weeks ago.”

  I frowned. “What subject do you mean?”

  “A while back you told me about the riff between you and Brad at the Baum’s house.”

  “Oh, of course. What else do you want to know?”

  “You said you were interested in the Gallaghers’ home because of your current writing, but you didn’t mention having already visited the place.”

  He wore the same look on his face that Jim always displayed when he knew I had omitted an important piece of information because I knew he’d be upset with me.

  I held up my hands palms facing out. “Okay, you got me. I did visit the house, so what’s the problem?”

  “Claire doesn’t usually allow anyone through that gate unless they’re family or close friends. How’d you get her to let you in?”

  “Claire wasn’t at home. That particular day she and her sons were still at the cemetery when I left there after visiting the mausoleum. Jill Doucet allowed me to enter.”

  I had the feeling I might be in a predicament. His next question would surely be why were you really there? I was wrong.

  “So you told her you were writing a mystery set in a plantation home and you wanted to get a feel for the place.”

  He appeared to be putting words in my mouth. Okay I’ll play along. “Sure, that’s what I told her.” I narrowed my gaze on his face. “Danny, what is going on at the Gallaghers’ house or their business?”

  “I’m not at liberty to discuss that.”

  “I really hate that statement. It’s been so overused lately.”

  “Sorry, but I can’t tell you anything. I wanted to make certain you weren’t involved and you didn’t end up where you don’t belong. You should know this, if you go nosing around there again, you will be suspected of being involved in criminal activity.” He turned and strode to his truck.