He exited his vehicle and started around the back side. Wallace lowered his driver side window and motioned him to come closer.

  “What’s up, Bulldog?”

  “We need to talk someplace private.”

  “In reference to what,” Danny asked.

  Wallace glanced around before speaking. “I may have a line on at least one department insider in relation to the drug ring. My gut feeling is he’s connected to Jim’s death. This may also have a bearing on the attack on Susan.” He hesitated for a short moment. “It’s only hearsay, but I felt like I needed to pass it on.”

  “I tell you what,” Danny suggested. “Get in my car and you tell me what you heard.”

  Thirty-six

  “Steven, I’ve changed my mind. I’m going to the hospital to see what I can find out about the LaBauves.”

  “I’ll stay with the kids for an hour,” he said, with a serious look on his face. “If you’re not back in an hour, I’ll pack them into the car and we’ll come searching for you.”

  I stared at him with surprise. “You’re setting a curfew for me?”

  He laughed. “Not really. I just don’t want you to get in a jam.”

  “What can I get into at the hospital?”

  “You’re a magnet for trouble.”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

  “I just want to make sure you’re not gone longer than necessary to find out their condition, so I’ll know you’re safe.”

  “My goodness, Steven, when did you become such an old lady?” He was getting on my last nerve. I exhaled a deep breath. He meant well. “Sorry. I promise I won’t be long. It might be over an hour, though. If it is, I’ll phone you and check in.”

  He reluctantly agreed. “Try to take it easy. A head wound is nothing to take lightly.”

  I promised, but neglected to mention the ache at the top of my head. Before I left, I tossed down a couple of ibuprofen on the sly.

  Fifteen minutes later I was out the door and on my way to West Lake Memorial. I wasn’t anxious to return to the place where Jim had died or where I had spent the night, but I needed to know what happened to those two men. I prayed they hadn’t died from their wounds.

  An icy chill raced over my body as I walked through the automatic doors at the hospital entrance. I blamed this phenomenon on the sudden blast of cold from the hospital’s air conditioning system after walking through a super-heated parking lot. I only kidded myself. Flashbacks of Jim’s death came back to me in a rush. I adjusted my baseball cap and forced myself to walk toward the information desk.

  The woman behind the counter smiled as I approached. I recognized her as the mother of one of the twins’ classmates, although I couldn’t recall her name. All the head injuries I’ve had in the last few years must be affecting my memory.

  I swallowed hard. “Can you tell me the room numbers for Andre LaBauve and his son?”

  She made a slight grimace and tucked a strand of her shoulder length blond hair behind one ear. “They can’t have any visitors other than family members. There are deputies working guard duty outside Andre’s room to be sure.”

  “I was afraid of that.” Disappointment set in. “I don’t suppose you can give me any information about their conditions.”

  “No, I actually don’t have any updated info.” She leaned forward and lowered her voice. “Andre is on the third floor and his son is in ICU. You might be able to speak to family up there.”

  “Thank you.” Her name came to me. “I really appreciate it, Donna,” I said, my voice equally low.

  “You’re quite welcome.”

  I hurried toward the elevators before I chickened out and made a hasty retreat. Alone in the elevator, I punched the appropriate button and leaned back against the wall for support.

  The doors swooshed open on the ICU floor. My legs didn’t want to move. I quickly pushed the third floor button and rode up. I had better luck when the doors opened once more.

  Deputies and CLPD officers milled around the nurses’ station. I didn’t see Danny anywhere, but spotted Joe Hernandez leaning against the wall. I walked over.

  His eyes darted back and forth as if he were searching for someone to rescue him from me. Kind of a strange reaction, but I blew it off. Guess he knew I intended to ask questions he wasn’t authorized to answer.

  He forced a smile. “Susan, I didn’t expect to see you up here.”

  “I didn’t expect to be back at a hospital I just left this morning. I had to find out what happened to the LaBauves.”

  “Looks like Andre’s going to make it, but it doesn’t look too good for T-Boy.”

  “Can you tell me what happened?”

  “Mrs. Foret,” a male voice behind me boomed. “You shouldn’t be up here.”

  I turned to face Jack LeBlanc. So I’m Mrs. Foret up here. I suppose he purposely used a formal address in order to sound authoritative.

  “Why not? I’m certainly not disturbing the patients with my presence,” I said indignantly.

  He bristled. “We’re conducting police business up here. If you continue to interfere with investigations as you have in the past, I’ll be forced to arrest you.”

  “How am I interfering in your police business? I thought Danny was head of investigating the LaBauves’ shooting.”

  His turn to act offended. “Ah, yes, the sheriff. I have no doubt he’s the way you found out about the incident.”

  “As a matter of fact, I happened to be on the phone with him when he got the call about the shooting.”

  A sneer curled his lips. “You certainly have a close relationship with the sheriff.”

  “I beg your pardon.” I felt heat rise to my cheeks. How dare he insinuate my relationship with Danny was somehow a romantic involvement! What a hypocrite. I bit my tongue to keep from throwing out Angie Ducote’s name.

  Telling him what Danny and I were discussing wasn’t an option. Good thing I managed not to blurt out what evidence Josh Broussard had handed over to me.

  “That’s enough, Jack.” Bill Kaufman stepped between us, forcing the interim chief to move back a few paces.

  I realized then we had become the center of attention of law enforcement personnel and hospital staff alike. Embarrassed, I lowered my gaze to the floor. Bill gently ushered me aside and toward a small waiting room, which thankfully was empty.

  “I apologize for Chief LeBlanc,” he said. “But you really shouldn’t be here. You just got out of the hospital after being attacked. You need to be home resting.”

  “Thanks for stopping Jack before our discussion became a shouting match. I’d hate to be forcibly removed from any place.” I also resented the fact he referred to Jim’s replacement as ‘Chief LeBlanc,’ but I kept my grievance to myself. “He actually threatened to arrest me.”

  His eyes widened. “Really? On what charges?”

  “He claimed I was interfering with police business by being up here.”

  “May I ask why you are up here?” His expression suggested a mix of concern and curiosity.

  “I wanted to find out the condition of the LaBauves and perhaps learn what happened to them. Where were they shot?”

  “The location is not being revealed to the public at this time, although I’m certain news people have wormed it out of someone by now.”

  “Let me guess.” He could probably hear the sarcasm in my voice. “Bayou Jean Baptiste?”

  He nodded. “Now there’s nothing more you can accomplish by being here. Go home and get some rest.”

  A buzz of voices echoed through the adjacent corridor. Jack appeared in the doorway of the waiting room, a solemn expression on his face.

  “Mayor, there’s a new development.”

  Bill walked over to him and listened to what the man had to say. I tried to hear their conversation, but couldn’t quite make out any words. Jack turned and disappeared down the hall.

  “What happened?”

  “T-Boy passed away from his injuries.”

  A heavy weight of grief and guilt settled on my shoulders. Tears welled in my eyes. If I hadn’t asked the LaBauves to bring me to Bayou Jean Baptiste, T-Boy might be alive and Andre wouldn’t have been shot.

  Brushing past Bill, I rushed out into the hall and headed for the stairs. I didn’t want to wait for the elevator. He caught up with me under the red exit sign and clutched my arm.

  “Susan, let me take you home. You’re too upset to drive.”

  I pulled away from him. “No thanks, I’m fine. My car is out in the parking lot.” Without waiting for his response, I pulled open the door and started down the steps as fast as I could.

  Thirty-seven

  I don’t know how I managed to go down the stairs without falling. My eyesight blurred with tears. I ran across the parking lot to my car and fumbled with the key remote until the lock popped up.

  Inside the oven of a car, the hot steering wheel stung my hands. I jerked away and knocked over my purse. The contents spilled onto the floor.

  My head ached. Thoughts and images flipped through my mind in a rush. What have I done? One person died, another hurt because of me. Anger, guilt, grief choked me. I felt on the verge of a complete breakdown.

  Get a grip. You can’t fall apart. I rubbed my temples and took a deep breath. More deep breaths. Gradually, my breathing and heartbeat slowed.

  A soft tapping on the window made me jump. A concerned-looking woman in a white nurse’s uniform stood next to the car. She seemed vaguely familiar. I lowered the window.

  “Are you okay?” she asked.

  “I’m not fine, but I’ll survive.”

  “You could have a heat stroke sitting out here in a closed up car. Just walking across the lot has baked me.” She dabbed perspiration from her beige skin with a tissue and then studied my face. “You’re Susan Foret, aren’t you?”

  “Yes,” I said slowly.

  “You may not remember me. I’m Valerie Williams, Rafe Williams’ wife.”

  “Oh, yes, your husband works for the sheriff’s office.”

  She nodded. “Come on. Let’s go inside so you can have some water.”

  “No, please, I’m all right. I’ve got to get back home. Thanks for stopping to inquire about me.” I didn’t want to be rude to her, but neither did I have any desire to go back inside the hospital.

  Valerie looked doubtful. “If you’re sure you’re okay.” She reached into the tote bag slung on her shoulder and pulled out a bottle of water. “At least, take this and drink it before you get dehydrated.”

  I accepted the water. “Thanks again.” I removed the cap on the bottle and took a long drink. My parched throat also thanked her.

  Valerie smiled and gave a thumbs up. She turned and continued her walk toward the hospital. Nice woman. How dumb of me to sit in a closed car in this heat.

  The irrationality of my thinking hit me like the hot air streaming through the window. I felt stupid for endangering myself in the heat. Yet I never worried about jeopardizing my life with an investigation into the business of dangerous people.

  I should have let Bill drive me home. My head ached and I felt slightly woozy. Taking another drink of water, I raised the window and twisted the key in the ignition. If sweating was any indication of how long I’d sat in this hot car, my clothes were more than damp. Turning the air conditioner on full blast, I backed out of the parking space.

  By the time I arrived home, I had started to become chilled. The short walk from car to house warmed me a little, only to be hit again with the cold air inside.

  “Hey,” Steven greeted me with a smile that soon disappeared. “What happened?”

  I rubbed my forehead and blew out a long breath. “While Jack LeBlanc and I engaged in a war of words, T-Boy LaBauve died of his wounds. It’s all my fault.”

  His expression softened. “I’m sorry he died, but you can’t blame yourself. You’re not responsible for his death. I know all about the self-blame game. Responsibility lies with whoever killed him, not you.”

  “In my mind, I know it’s logical, but my heart says differently.” My conversation with Rick Hanson came to me. As I had told him, guilt over a friend’s death wasn’t new to me. But I needed to follow my own advice.

  “Why don’t you go relax?” Steven suggested. “I’ll take the kids outside. Matt mentioned he hadn’t ridden his bike in a while.”

  “Thanks. I appreciate everything you have done for me.” I smiled. “You’re pretty good for a younger brother.”

  “Younger brother?” He pretended to be offended. “By only fifteen minutes.”

  “Just be glad Mother didn’t go into labor on New Year’s Eve. We could’ve been born in two different years.”

  “Wouldn’t that have been a kick?” He strode down the hall chuckling.

  Granted our repartee was rather adolescent. What the heck. It’s nice to be a kid again for a short time at least.

  I preferred a shower, but couldn’t because of my head wound, so I decided on a nice long soak in the tub. I opted for lukewarm water and even tossed bubble bath crystals into the water.

  As I soaked in the warm perfumed suds, I recalled Taylor Evans’ prescription as she called her advice for me.

  Take some time alone to meditate and then pamper yourself with a massage or sauna. There’s a lot of negative energy surrounding you which is normal under the circumstances. Positive energy from the relaxation will help dissipate the negativity. You’ll be able to think more clearly.

  The massage or sauna would have to wait for a future date, but for now I’d pamper myself with a leisurely bath. Maybe I’d be able to think more clearly after my mind and body was cleansed of negative energy. The negative energy surrounding me was like the dark side of Allemand Parish, growing day-by-day.

  Thirty-eight

  Accompanied by Ken Wallace, Danny hurried through the entrance doors of the hospital.

  “News of T-Boy’s death will hit the New Orleans television stations and the local newspaper soon if it hasn’t already gotten out,” Danny said. “Too bad this death can’t be kept quiet for a while.”

  “Not possible,” Wallace replied. “Ever since those murders last year at Mardi Gras, Cypress Lake and Allemand Parish have been in the news.”

  “Yeah, I expect to be ambushed by a reporter any minute now.”

  Coverage of Jim’s death had vanished from the Cypress Lake Journal. Once area media sources got wind of the latest shooting victims in Allemand Parish, the story of Jim’s death would again be resurrected in order to speculate if the two deaths might be connected. Wallace lowered his voice. “We probably shouldn’t be seen together looking chummy. I’ll head up to the third floor and check on Andre’s situation.”

  “Good. I’ll be in ICU to get a report from Rafe Williams. I had him on guard close to T-Boy’s room. Last I heard from him, there were a few CLPD officers hanging around.”

  “Did he say who?”

  “Toby Hahn, for one.”

  “I’d vouch for him. He’s related to the LaBauves, a cousin, I believe.”

  “He also mentioned Bret Riley and Tony Messina.”

  “Both good men,” he said. “But I can’t see any reason for them to be up there.”

  Danny nodded. “Thanks.”

  “Later.” Wallace headed for the stairs.

  Danny pressed the button for the elevator. The car seemed to be taking a long time to arrive. I should have taken the stairs too. He pressed the button hard several times.

  The elevator finally arrived and three people exited the car. Danny rode up alone to the second floor. He stepped out into an atmosphere not conducive to patient health, especially for an intensive care unit.

  T-Boy’s relatives were naturally upset and enraged. They complained loudly, accusing the hospital and law enforcement of not preventing his death.

  Law enforcement officers, mostly his deputies, appeared to outnumber LaBauve family members and were doing nothing to calm the situation.

  Nurses and a doctor tried in vain to clear the area for the sake of other ICU patients. Danny thought the hospital staff looked relieved to see him. He was none too happy to see this chaos. Why were all these deputies standing around instead of on patrol or taking care of their regular duties? Or even doing a little crowd control?

  A more immediate concern for Danny was the LaBauve clan and what they might do, since one of their own had been murdered and two others wounded. He walked up to the group of angry relatives.

  “Folks, calm down. I know you’re grieving and angry about T-Boy’s death, but nothing can be solved by blaming the hospital or law enforcement.”

  Even though the noise level gradually reduced to low muttering, Danny sensed high tension in the atmosphere.

  An older man who closely resembled Andre spoke in a loud voice. “Who should we blame? Andre and his boys were mindin’ their own business and somebody started shootin’ at them.”

  “The law sure ain’t out there lookin’ for those SOBs who shot Andre and Michie and killed T-Boy. They were all hanging around in here drawin’ pay for doing nothin’,” another man said.

  Danny silently cringed. The man did speak the truth. “Yes, they were hanging around here doing nothing. They will face some disciplinary action for not being at their assigned duties.”

  The relatives seemed pleased with Danny’s statement. However he couldn’t take any chances on the situation erupting again.

  A whooshing sound of elevator doors opening came from a short distance away. Michie LaBauve emerged with a somber look on his face. Danny didn’t know whether his expression related to T-Boy’s death, or if Andre had taken a turn for the worse. Or both.

  Michie put his hand on Danny’s upper arm and motioned with his head to move away from his family. He spoke in a low voice, “Papa says he’ll talk to you soon. Doc Theriot had to give him something to calm him down after he heard the news about T-Boy so he probably won’t be able to say anything that makes sense right now.”

  “Just let me know when he’s up to talking.”

  Michie made a quick glance toward his relatives, and then returned his attention to Danny. “I spoke to the doctors about T-Boy, so I’ll see about handlin’ my kin folks.”