Degrees of Darkness, page 80
“How is it that a boy who grew up eating prairie oysters is grossed out about sucking the heads on these things?” Marion asked, flopping a whole crawdad around.
“Don’t ask me.” Cody bit into the cob, sweet juice and spices dribbling down her chin. This boil rated right up there with the ones she and Remy had attended during their honeymoon. Truth be told, she missed Houma, Remy’s family, and the atmosphere in Louisiana. Because while they were there Remy wasn’t concerned with his job. He was completely focused on her.
Remy’s momma had wheedled her way into Cody’s heart and became like a second mother. Having no large family of her own, Cody fell in love with Remy’s papa, his sisters and their families, and his baby brother. And they equally fell in love with her. Man, she wanted to visit sooner than this summer. But her training and riding schedule—not to mention Remy’s lack of vacation time—kept them here in Texas a few more months.
“I see a wayward Cajun over there.” Marion pointed behind Cody.
Turning, she spotted Remy speaking with the Cajun couple who were hosting this event. Finally. She tossed her finished cob into the bucket under the table, then excused herself, and headed across the arena, wiping her hands on a napkin. Since he was distracted, Cody took the chance to admire her husband. Today he’d worn a black blazer that brought out the darker highlights in his hair, and jeans with his black and tan cowboy boots. Cody recalled the first time she saw him wearing boots. She’d been taken back, convinced by her first impression of him that he was nothing more than a city slicker. Over time, she slowly learned the polished persona was a facade to hide his true rural upbringing. The boots were a small glimpse inside the man who was Remy LeBeau.
He glanced her way, did a double take, then excused himself from the couple. Cody’s heart accelerated like a barrel horse breaking from that last turn around the final barrel. No, wait, she was mad at him for being late. As his long strides ate up the distance between them, she felt the anger flee and rationale took its place. He’d shown up, at least, late, but here. It still stung that his job always came first. When would it be her turn?
With mere inches between them, he stopped. “Ca viens?” he asked in French.
How is it coming?
“Bon comme la vie,” she replied back in French.
Exceedingly good.
Over the months he’d taught her to speak and understand French in an attempt to help her speak with his family. Admittedly, Cody did it out of the sheer pleasure of understanding what he said to her when they made love. Her drawl tended to butcher the flowing words, but it didn’t stop her.
“Viens ici,” he growled, yanking her to him and laying claim to her lips.
Her Cajun was predatory when it came to her. Cody knew it stemmed from the tragic loss of his first wife and his uncontrollable need to protect—and the nagging sensation his partner might have fallen for his wife. Not long ago it drove Cody completely bonkers that the males in her life had this ridiculous need to make her into the distressed damsel, but she was slowly learning to let it go. Remy was aware that Cody could take care of herself; she’d more than proven it time and again.
Breaking their lip-lock, she squinted at him. He wasn’t one for PDA, and there were probably plenty of spectators. “What’s wrong?”
Melancholy filled his dark-brown eyes. He tucked a springy lock behind her ear, taking the time to trail his finger along her jaw line. “Moreno is retiring.”
And that called for a make-out session in front of everyone? “Why?”
“His wife is dying.”
Sorrow for Remy’s lieutenant swept over Cody. She could sense the reason for Remy’s mood shift. They were both well-acquainted with the death of a loved one. Her hands slipped inside his and she intertwined their fingers. “He’ll make it as long as he realizes this isn’t the end.”
A tepid smile appeared. “Ma chère, your faith grounds me.”
“Good. Because I think you still forget sometimes.”
A singsong voice called out her name. She glanced over her shoulder, noticed the waving hand, and looked up at her husband. “We’re being summoned.”
He snickered and placed a peck on her lips. “By the way, nice job showing up your père.”
“You made it?” She turned back to the tables and tugged him along.
“Long enough to watch you cut numbers two and three. This new case is going to eat up a lot of my free time.”
What free time? I barely see him as it is. “That bad?”
“Worse.” He flashed his trademark charming grin. “Marion, I see you’re enjoying some of Louisiana’s best cuisine.”
“Immensely,” she said.
“Did she warn you about not eating the dead ones?” He plucked two crawdads off the pile, tossed one into the bucket and broke the other in half.
“Actually we were warned about those.” Cody watched her husband, knowing what was coming next.
“Are you really going to do it?” Marion asked.
Remy’s hand with the head stilled halfway to his mouth. “What? Suck the head?” Mischief gleamed in his eyes. “Why of course.” He placed the half in his mouth and slurped, giving the two a wink.
Marion winced.
When he finished, he tossed the shell in the bucket and removed the meat from the tail. “That’s how we do it in Louisiana.”
“Not everyone does it,” Cody punched his bicep, “and you know it.”
“The smart ones do.” He repeated his process with another crawdad. “Mmm, good mudbug.”
“I’ll never be able to look at you the same way, detective,” Marion said.
The band struck up an energetic song. Cody recognized it as one of the songs played during her wedding reception. Since they’d moved into the house and their work loads had picked up, they hadn’t been able to dance much. Cody missed it.
Remy cleaned his hands on a napkin, grabbed her hand, and backpedaled toward the makeshift dance floor in front of the band. “Come, cher, let’s show them how it’s done.”
He led her onto the floor, spun her around, and they fell into a close two-step. Pressing against him, Cody soaked in the feel of Remy. So much of her was wrapped up in him, and it felt so right. She just wished she could go back to those days in Houma and leave the rest of the world behind.
The fast-tempo song ended and the band moved into a slow love song. Cody snuggled closer, closed her eyes, and listened to the steady thrum of his heart. Everything around them faded away until it was just the two of them. She had him for right now, with no worry of his new case pulling him away in the middle.
God, how she loved this man and all of his little quirks. If only she could just figure out how to keep him from running off every time his phone rang or buzzed. Then they could be truly happy.
Chapter Five
The only time in Logan’s life he had spent more than a few weeks away from The Red Moon Ranch were the years between 1970 to early 1973. Horrific years of combat in some of Vietnam’s worst conditions. His aging parents and his home smack in the middle of Fort Worth’s ranching community kept him going. Kept him alive.
Until a feisty redhead entered his miserable existence.
Logan guided his dark blue Dodge Ram along the meandering gravel lane leading to his—and Cody’s—ranch. The headlights slashed through the dark, illuminating the mowed grass along the shoulder and the rippling trees used to block the road from the pastures. He had left The Coliseum early after leaving instructions for the two junior trainers who apprenticed with him. Since Jodi’s death nine years ago, Logan stopped going to the after-event festivities. The functions held no appeal for him without her there. Now that Cody had joined as a partner, he could leave her to represent their training business. His girl had proven herself more than capable of handling anything he threw at her. Yet a part of him was glad she still came to him for advice, even if he knew it wasn’t right with her married now.
Propping his elbow on the ledge in the open space where the window should be, he slowed the truck and absorbed the calm. Nights like these he ached for his wife. Jodi Malone-Lewis had been a remarkable woman with a side no one but he knew about. Not even their daughter. Even with Jodi gone, her past had to remain locked away. For all their sakes.
Logan braked the truck to a stop at the bend in the lane where it met the ranch driveway, then shifted into neutral. He crossed his arms over the top of the steering wheel and took in the sight of his ranch. Much had changed in the years after his wife’s death, a lot of it due to Cody’s relationship with Remy. Hell, the house Logan grew up in was gone. Though he helped design the new house, he still got the creeps walking into the new place. It wasn’t home. No doubt Cody felt the same, yet she never voiced it.
“Well, babe,” he said with a sigh, “life moves on.” He put the truck in gear and drove up to the small cabin he’d had built for himself that overlooked the entire ranch.
Gathering his gear, he left the cab and trudged up the path. His joints ached with each step. After thirty-six years of training and riding cutting horses, it was time to consider retiring. It was a miracle he could even do the job with the damage to his left arm and hand. And right now the stabbing pains of arthritis ate away at his energy reserves.
Dangnabbit. Sixty-five was too young to feel like a corpse.
Logan swung his keys around to sort out the cabin key. His gaze lifted and he pulled up short.
A nondescript package was propped against the door. The manila envelope both repelled and intrigued him. Topping the steps, he picked up the weighted package and studied it. The weight shifted inside, sliding as if loose.
Unlocking the door, he entered the cabin and kicked the door shut behind him as he walked toward the kitchenette and the small table. The items inside slid forward when he placed the envelope flat. Logan stared at it. A debate warred in his head. Should he open it, or leave it be and let his son-in-law check it out? With no name and no indication of who this package was intended for, Logan was at a loss. His daughter had been through enough in the last year. She’d finally found some happiness, and if this was meant for her, under no circumstances would he allow her joy to be destroyed.
Using his utility knife, he carefully sliced open the envelope, and then standing back at arm’s length, upended the whole thing. The contents spilled out, an entire deck of cards scattering across the tabletop. The queen of hearts lay face up, with a black X marked through the queen’s face.
Sweat beaded Logan’s forehead and hands as he stared at the card. With a trembling hand, he turned over cards until he discovered the same defacement on more of the face cards. When he flipped a joker card his muscles contracted painfully. Devil horns protruded from the head and fangs from the mouth. Logan dropped the offensive card and backed from the table.
The tip of white paper peeked from underneath the envelope’s flap. He grabbed it up and jerked out the page. Red, blocked words screamed back at him: “But if the cause be not good, the King himself hath a heavy reckoning to make, when all those legs and arms and heads chopped off in a battle shall join together at the latter day, and cry all, 'We died at such a place'—some swearing, some crying.”
Shakespeare’s quote made his gut roil. Someone was playing a sick, cruel joke. From the pack of fifty-two cards he sorted out five place cards with blacked out faces. With each card he discovered, dread tightened its hold on him.
He had to stop, but morbid curiosity took control. Reaching out, Logan flipped one more card.
A large red X marked out the king of clubs. His legs wobbled and he dropped the card, bracing his hands on the edge of the table.
The king was dead.
Chapter Six
Yellow and orange streaked the early morning sky, lighting Remy’s drive into Dallas. He’d reluctantly left Cody curled up in their bed still sleeping. Last night they got home late and both crashed from exhaustion. Without fail, when Cody ran herself into the ground she would have nightmares. She woke him twice thrashing around. Each time he wrapped her in his arms and pulled her close. That gesture alone calmed her and she settled back to sleep.
Rebounding from post-traumatic stress after her kidnapping by the Rodeo Sweethearts serial killer and her on-going recovery with alcoholism left Cody vulnerable. Many in her situation didn’t have the courage to face what she had and keep going. But somehow she managed.
Remy guided his Corvette onto the exit ramp, slowing to navigate the sharp curve. While most of their lives were laid bare to each other, there was one thing Cody seemed to keep buried. Before he’d gone to New Orleans, JC confided his and Logan’s suspicions that Cody’s ex-boyfriend had physically abused her. But for Remy to get himself to confront her about it was like pulling a dead gator from the bayou after it filled up with water. Next to impossible. They’d had enough troubles in their short time together. Why bring up more pain from the past? If it was true?
Drinking from his travel mug, he scowled. When he’d shown up last night at the crawfish boil he’d noticed the stiff way she’d walked toward him. That was happening more lately, if he was late. And to say she was shocked that he’d actually made it to watch her cut; well that was an understatement. Damn it, he thought things between him and Cody would be different than they had been with him and his first wife in regards to his job. As a detective he was more flexible with coming and going than as a patrol officer. Cody had seemed to roll better with the demands.
Until now. So what changed? Why was he getting static for this? She’d known he couldn’t drop and run for everything. And while they were dating she hadn’t be bothered by it.
Hell, while they were dating she’d been gone most of the time chasing her barrel racing dream. That had all changed when she opted out and joined her dad in the cutting horse business. Now if she’d only spend less time out in the barns with her father …
Remy shook his head. He didn’t have time for this. He needed to focus on this new case and the upcoming autopsies.
Once on the city street, he drove to the morgue. Doc Warner always planned his first autopsies for the cases Remy and Anderson were investigating. Neither detective could figure out why they got the special treatment, but they didn’t complain. Though it sucked spending the rest of the day trying to get the stench out of his nose and head.
As he waited at a stoplight, Remy glanced at the dashboard clock. Five-fifty. Logan would be up. Remy might not like it, but he had to admit on some level that Logan had a sway over Cody that Remy hadn’t quite figured out. And a smart man would defer in some cases to an expert. He punched the speed dial for Logan’s cell. The first ring filtered through his hands-free device. The light changed and he shifted into first just as Logan picked up.
“You left awfully early,” his father-in-law said by way of greeting.
Still the over-protective dad. “Early autopsy. The case is probably in the newspapers this morning.”
Logan grunted as if in pain. “Should we expect you to show up today?”
“Not likely, I’m smack in the middle of that crucial time. Are you okay? You sound … sore.”
“Old age, Cajun. Happens to everyone.”
But not Logan. Remy had never heard the man even hint at having any aches and pains. Logan Lewis appeared to be in perfect health, minus an old injury. Remy hadn’t seen it, but according to Cody, there was a mess of scar tissue along her father’s left arm. A war wound that got him honorably discharged from the army during Vietnam.
“Better pop a few aspirin and limber up. Your daughter will run you into the ground if you don’t.”
“Dontcha worry ’bout me. She’s still got a ways to go before she can leave me in the dust.”
Parking in the morgue lot, Remy cut the engine but left the battery on. He stared at the black, polished dashboard. “Speaking of Cody, when I left she was still sleeping, but she had a rough night. Would you mind checking on her?”
“Did you leave any lights on inside?”
“No.”
“I think she’s up. I’ll go have coffee with her.”
“Merci.” Remy ended the call and removed his Droid from the port. He exited the ’Vette, clipping his ID badge to the lapel of his suit jacket before he headed inside the building.
Anderson leaned on the front desk, talking with the receptionist. Or was he flirting? Since his brief fling with Cody’s best friend, Kimberly Anne Gregory now Slater, Anderson hadn’t quite bounced back to his old self. Kim called off the relationship because her life had been upended by the truth of her adoption and her parentage. And the suspicion of Anderson’s secret attraction to Cody. Which he never denied or admitted to anyone.
Yet Remy didn’t dare approach the subject. He’d endured the agony of believing Cody had cheated on him after witnessing the two of them dancing and hugging each other in New Orleans. He and Anderson had a good working relationship; no way in hell was Remy going to screw that up by calling out his friend as an attempted woman stealer.
When he joined Anderson at the desk, Remy scrawled his signature on the sign-in sheet. “Is my partner harassing you, Amanda?”
The flamboyant blonde grinned at Remy, revealing her deep dimples. “From the moment he walked in.”
Anderson made a pained noise. “I’m wounded, Amanda. All this time and here I thought you enjoyed my company.”
She rolled her eyes, in her typical sarcastic nature. “Sorry, Detective Anderson, but you don’t have your partner’s charm.”
Remy snorted, trying to suppress his laughter.
“You do realize he’s married, right?”
“It’s always the good ones who are taken.” Amanda gave them both a wink. “Doc Warner is waiting on you two down in the morgue.” She punched the lock release and it buzzed.
Together, Remy and Anderson walked through the double doors and strode down the corridor.
“You would throw me under the bus,” Anderson said.
