Unsolved Bayou Murder, page 11
“I don’t know anything else about it other than she was shot and rushed to the hospital. I figured you needed to know.”
Energy flooded through Beau. “Thanks, Gator.” Beau turned around and went back inside, where he grabbed the truck keys. He then raced back outside, passing by Gator as Beau raced through the swamp to get to where his truck was parked.
The grapevine in the swamp was usually fairly accurate, but in this case he desperately hoped it was wrong. If the gossip was right, then how badly had she been hurt? Where had she been to get shot in the first place?
A hundred questions raced through his head and his heart was beating a million miles a minute when he finally reached his truck. He jumped inside, fired up the engine and took off for the hospital.
If she wasn’t there, then he would know the gossip had been wrong. He prayed she wasn’t there and that she was in her home safe and sound.
He tightened his hands on the steering wheel as he sped down the streets. He still couldn’t figure out where she’d been if she’d really gotten shot. Had she decided to make a quick run to the grocery store? To another store? Dammit, how could he protect her if she decided to go out and about on her own?
He finally squealed into the hospital lot and pulled into one of the empty parking spaces. He cut the engine, got out of his truck and then raced for the emergency room entrance.
Lydia March manned the desk. He’d known her before he’d gone to prison. They had gone to school together. Her eyes now widened slightly at the sight of him. “Hey, Beau.”
“Hi, Lydia. I heard Peyton LaCroix was brought in a little while ago for a gunshot wound. Could you tell the doctor I’m here and would like to know her condition as soon as possible?”
She nodded. “I’ll be right back.” She disappeared through a door that was marked Authorized Personnel Only.
Beau’s heart dropped. He’d hoped that Lydia would look at him like he was out of his mind and tell him Peyton wasn’t here. But she hadn’t, which meant Peyton was here and she had really been shot.
So how badly had she been hurt? Was she now barely clinging to life? How had this happened? The thought nearly cast him to his knees. He walked over to one of the plastic chairs and collapsed down, his heart still beating a rhythm of anxiety.
Lydia returned to the desk. “Dr. Richards will be with you when he can.”
“Thanks,” Beau replied.
He remained seated in the chair for what seemed like an eternity. His heart continued to beat an unnatural quickened rhythm as he prayed that she would be okay.
Finally, Dr. Richards came through the door. Beau jumped up out of his chair to greet the doctor. He had no memory of the dark-haired man who appeared to be about Beau’s age.
“She’s doing just fine,” Dr. Richards said. “She gave me permission to speak to you. She’s one lucky lady—the bullet only grazed her shoulder. She heard you were here and she wants to see you. I’ll take you back to her.”
A wealth of relief shuddered through Beau as he followed the doctor through the door that led into the emergency room treatment area. He turned into the first unit and Beau stepped in behind him.
She sat in the bed, appearing small and fragile. She was clad in a hospital gown and it was obvious her right shoulder wore thick bandages.
The moment she saw Beau she burst into tears. He rushed to her side, wanting to pull her into his arms and hold her there forever, but he was afraid of further hurting her. Instead, he leaned over, kissed her forehead and then took hold of her left hand.
“S...somebody shot me, Beau. Somebody shot me right through my living room window,” she said amid her tears. “I... I was getting ready to...to pull my curtains closed and somebody shot me.”
“I’m sorry, chérie. I’m so sorry this happened to you, but you’re safe now,” he said softly. He wanted to hear exactly what happened, but first he looked at the doctor. “What happens next?”
“She’s free to go. I’ve cleaned and dressed the wound and given her some pain medication. I’ll write a prescription for some antibiotics and pain pills. If you both just sit tight, I’ll take care of that and then send the nurse in.”
“Thank you, Doctor,” Beau said.
“Yes, thank you for taking such good care of me,” Peyton added through her tears.
Once the doctor was gone, Beau pulled a chair up next to the side of Peyton’s bed. “It’s all my fault,” she said and grabbed a tissue from the box on the table next to her. She dabbed at her teary eyes.
“How is this your fault?” he asked.
“I made myself the perfect target.” She explained to him how she’d forgotten to pull the curtains shut when she’d first arrived home. “When I decided to close them, I made a perfect target in the window. It...it was stupid of me.”
Beau frowned. What bothered him was the fact that somebody had obviously been outside her house just waiting for the exact opportunity to shoot her. And he had a definite feeling this wasn’t her fault, but rather it was his.
He should have never pulled her into his desire to catch a killer. After she was attacked next to her car and punched in the face, he should have walked away from her.
Before he could voice his thoughts to her, Thomas Gravois stepped into the room. “Peyton, how are you doing?”
“I’m okay, considering I was just shot,” she said with a touch of sarcasm. She grabbed the button to raise the head of the hospital bed a little more. “Thankfully, the bullet just grazed my shoulder.”
“Well, that’s good. I wish I could tell you we’ve got the shooter under arrest, but unfortunately, we don’t.” The lawman pulled a pen and a small notebook out of his back pocket. “I didn’t get a chance to talk to you before the ambulance took you away, so now I need to know exactly what happened.”
As Peyton relayed the events of the night, Beau’s brain whirled with dozens of thoughts. The fact that if the bullet had hit her an inch or so to the left, then she’d be dead, absolutely horrified him.
Who? Who had sat in a vehicle or stood outside in her yard with the intent of killing her? He didn’t have to ask himself the why. He suspected whoever it was believed that if Peyton was dead then Beau would be so distraught, he’d be so ripped apart, that he’d stop his quest for the killer. And that was probably what would happen.
He’d be devastated if Peyton died, not because he needed her to help him clear his name. Despite his core of hurt and anger at her for not believing in him years ago, he still cared deeply about her.
He focused back on the conversation between Peyton and Gravois. “We canvassed the area and spoke to your neighbors. Unfortunately, none of them saw a person or a vehicle in front of your place. So they were no help in identifying the shooter,” Gravois said.
“That doesn’t surprise me,” Peyton said. “It was dark outside and there aren’t enough streetlights in the area to begin with.”
“The good news is we found the slug in the wall opposite the front window. I’ll send it off to the lab to see what they can tell me about it.”
“Hell, everyone in this town owns a gun. It’s going to be damned hard to match the striations and whatever to a gun unless that particular gun was used in another crime,” Beau said.
“Do you know anyone who might have an issue with you?” Gravois asked her. “Maybe somebody who was unhappy with your representation in a particular case?”
“I can tell you who did this. It’s the same person who punched her in the face,” Beau said. “It’s Lacy Dupree’s murderer. He feels the heat of us getting closer to him and he’s getting desperate to somehow halt our investigation.”
“When did somebody punch you in the face?” Gravois asked, a deep frown cutting across his forehead. “Is that how you got that bruise that was on your face? You told me you ran into a cabinet door.”
“It’s not important now,” Peyton replied. “I didn’t see the person at all so I didn’t report it because I knew there was nothing you could do about it.”
“Still, you should have made a report. I need to know what’s happening in my town.”
“Speaking of what’s going on in your town, have there been any breaks in the Honey Island Monster murders?” Beau asked.
“We’re working on it,” Gravois said, his frown cutting even deeper. He looked back at Peyton. “We finished up our investigation in your house so you’re free to go home whenever you get released from here. I left an officer there to guard it since it was unlocked and we didn’t know if you had a key.”
“Actually, I’m being released in just a few minutes,” she replied. “And I didn’t exactly take the time to grab my house keys.”
“Peyton, I want you to know I’m taking this all very seriously and will continue to work the case.” Gravois shoved his pen and notepad back into his pocket. “In the meantime, the two of you might want to consider halting your little investigation. You’re both just asking for trouble.”
“Thanks for the advice,” Peyton said. “But somebody has to investigate to find the real killer, and you’ve made it abundantly clear that you just want to forget that an innocent man went to prison.”
Gravois’s nostrils flared with his displeasure at her words. “I have more than enough on my plate right now. I don’t have the time or the energy to go back and re-solve a crime that happened fifteen years ago. In the meantime, I’ll stay in touch and if anything else happens, don’t hesitate to call me.”
The minute Gravois left, a nurse came into the room. “Here are your two scripts.” She handed the two pieces of paper to Peyton. “And here’s clean bandages for your wound. The doctor wants your bandages changed tomorrow. Unfortunately, the pretty shift you wore in didn’t survive, so you’ll have to wear the hospital gown home. Now, let’s get that IV out of you and you can be on your way.”
Forty-five minutes later they had picked up her two prescriptions and were pulling up in Peyton’s driveway. He got out of the truck and then hurried around to help her out.
A single police officer sat in a car by the curb. He got out of his vehicle and approached them. “The front door was left unlocked so Chief Gravois directed me to sit on the house until you returned here.”
“Thank you so much,” Peyton said. “I appreciate being able to go back inside and not be afraid that somebody is in there waiting for me.”
“Trust me. Nobody is inside, but if it would make you feel better, I could do a quick walk-through.”
“Do you mind?”
“Not at all. Why don’t you two wait out here for a couple of minutes and I’ll check out the premises.”
“I hate this,” Beau said as the officer disappeared into the house. “I hate that this has happened and I hate that I’m not the man with a gun going in to check things out. But as a felon, I can’t own a gun. And I hate like hell that this happened to you.” A swift anger filled him, but he tamped it down. Peyton didn’t need his anger right now.
He reached out to her and pulled her closer to him, careful not to hurt her shoulder. To his surprise, she came willingly into him. “I own a gun,” she said softly.
Before Beau could respond, the police officer came back outside. “All clear,” he said.
“Thank you,” Peyton said and moved away from Beau.
“No problem. I hope we catch the creep. I’m just sorry this happened to you, Ms. LaCroix, and now I need to be on my way.”
A moment later the officer was gone and Beau and Peyton walked into her living room. Glass shards glittered on the floor near the window. Beau stepped over the mess to close the curtains and then he turned to face her.
“Are you ready to stop now and leave things up to me?” he asked.
“Hell no,” she replied, and that stubborn chin of hers shot straight up. “This just makes me angrier and even more determined than ever to catch this creep. Among his other crimes, he tried to kill me tonight. I just need to be more careful.”
“You aren’t safe here anymore, Peyton. Don’t you understand that? You can no longer stay here, but I know a place where you’ll be perfectly safe. Go change your clothes and pack a bag. I’m taking you to the swamp.”
* * *
PEYTON STARED AT Beau in utter shock. She immediately wanted to protest the very idea, but despite her bravado, there was no denying that she was still shaken up by what had happened here tonight.
She’d been shot, and there was absolutely no question in her mind that it had been attempted murder. There was also no question in her mind that there was a very strong possibility the person would try to kill her again.
The idea of being someplace where she wouldn’t be afraid, where she could just take a little time to rest and to heal and to feel safe, sounded wonderfully appealing. She knew she would have all that at Beau’s place.
“Okay, just for a couple of days,” she finally said. “I’ll go change and pack.”
“Do you have anything in your garage that I could use to board up this missing window?” he asked.
“I think there might be some plywood scraps out in the garage,” she replied.
“You go pack and I’ll see what I can do.”
She nodded and then went into her bedroom as he headed for the garage. At least the blinds in her room were pulled tightly closed so nobody could see in.
The pain in her shoulder was beyond intense and the whole night felt like a horrible nightmare. She was exhausted, but knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep peacefully here in her own bed, for at least the next night or two.
Thankfully, yesterday morning Irene Farineau’s shoplifting case had come to an end when the prosecuting attorney had suddenly decided to drop all the charges against her. Peyton suspected some sort of a cash settlement had taken place behind the scenes. In any case, what that meant for her was that she had nothing pending at the office, so she could take off for a couple of days.
She’d call Kylie in the morning and give her a couple days off. She hoped the young woman wasn’t in any danger and Peyton didn’t really believe she was. Still, at this very moment all she could really think about was getting someplace to take a pain pill and lie down.
She packed a few things in a backpack and at the last minute tucked her gun inside even though she didn’t believe the person they were after, the person who was after her, would venture into the swamp to find them. She certainly didn’t believe anyone would come into the swamp and discover Beau was around a gun.
She heard some banging coming from the living room and realized Beau was working to cover the broken window. Finally, she changed into a pair of jeans and, with some pain and difficulty, a T-shirt, and then walked back out into the living room where Beau was once again seated on the sofa and the window was covered with a large sheet of plywood. He jumped up from the sofa and took the backpack from her. “Ready to go?”
“As ready as I can be.” She grabbed her purse off the kitchen floor where she’d dropped it after she’d made the call for help. “Thanks for taking care of the window.”
“No problem,” he replied. “It will work until you make arrangements to have a new window installed.”
Together they stepped out of the house. She locked the door and then they returned to Beau’s truck. “How are you feeling?” he asked softly once they were on their way.
“Like I’m more than ready for a pain pill and some sleep,” she admitted.
“Peyton, I’m so sorry you’re in pain. I wish I could take it all away from you. I wish somehow that I could erase this entire night.” His soft voice, coupled with the warm gaze he shot her way, unexpectedly pulled tears to her eyes.
She swallowed hard against them and closed her eyes. She leaned her head back and released a deep sigh. It was silly, now that it was all over and she was safe, but a deep fear still swept through her. Maybe it was just because she was in so much pain.
However, there was no question that she felt safer with Beau by her side. “I’ll need to call to get the glass in my window replaced,” she said. “And I also need to contact my homeowner’s insurance.”
“None of that needs to be done tonight,” Beau replied. “Tonight you just take your medicine and rest.”
They drove for several more minutes and she only opened her eyes again when the truck stopped. They were parked in the lot by the little grocery store and ahead was the path that would eventually lead to Beau’s place.
He got her bag out of the bed of the truck and strapped it on his back, and she grabbed her purse tightly in one of her hands. “Baby, I wish I could carry you in, but that’s just not possible,” he said.
“I know... I’ll be fine as long as you hold my hand,” she replied. There was no way she could navigate the swamp darkness without his help.
He reached out and clasped his hand firmly around hers. “Let’s go,” he said.
They entered the marsh and he walked slowly, murmuring softly to tell her where to step in order to avoid thick roots or the dark water that shimmered around them in the faint moonlight.
The deeper they went in, the cooler the air around them. It was always far cooler in the swamp. They passed several other paths that went elsewhere and continued on.
Nobody who didn’t know the swamp would be able to find Beau’s place. She would bet on the fact that her attacker hadn’t come from here, but rather he was a townsman who had plenty to lose if their investigation identified him. And townspeople never, ever ventured into the swamp.
By the time they reached Beau’s place, her shoulder throbbed painfully and tears once again filled her eyes. She felt physically and emotionally broken and she hated herself for her weakness.
“Wait here,” he said when they finally reached his front door. He went inside the dark structure, and a few moments later he’d turned on two lanterns that gave the main room a soft glow.
