Bayou Judgment (16 page)

S
till nothing but voice mail. Surely she couldn't be still asleep? Did the drugs knock her out completely? Spencer slammed the cell phone into the console and stared at it.

Ring. Call me back.

But it remained silent. He checked again to ensure the ringer was on and the volume set to high before tossing it back down.

Why wasn't she answering?

He glared at the firemen. How difficult could it be to saw a pole and chunk the bits into the ditch? Minutes felt like eons.

Time he didn't have.

His cell phone chirped. He jerked it up, not even bothering to check the caller ID. “Felicia?”

“Uh, no. It's Jon Garrison.”

Spencer swallowed his groan. “What's up?”

“Called the center and Michael told me you'd taken the night off.”

“Yeah.” He wouldn't volunteer any additional information.

“Just reminding you we have an appointment tomorrow morning at nine.”

As if he could forget. “I know.”

“Okay. Don't be late.”

“I won't.”

“Who's Felicia?”

Should've known he wouldn't get off that easily. “One of the operators at the center.”

“Mmm-hmm. Just an employee, huh?”

No more evasion. “She's a friend as well. She injured her leg post-surgery, and I'm just helping her out.”

“Oh. Okay. Well, see you tomorrow.”

Spencer snapped shut the phone. He could've gone into more detail with Garrison, but there wasn't any point. Not until he knew where he stood with Felicia.

He stared at the phone he still held.

C'mon, Felicia, call back.

Yet the phone remained stubbornly silent and still. Maybe he should call Luc and ask him to go check on her.

No, she'd been determined to not lean on her big brother anymore.

But what if something was wrong? What if she'd fallen and needed help?

He flipped open the phone.

Come on, Luc, pick up. But the phone rang two more times, then directed the call to voice mail. What kind of message could he possibly leave that wouldn't panic her brother? None. He closed the phone, wondering who else he could call. No one.

He dropped the cell into the console as
tings
sounded on the truck roof. Staring out the windshield, he watched gumball-size hail pelt the firemen. The wind whirled, making a hissing sound. Another sign?

More of a delay. The firemen huddled closer to their truck. One lifted a radio to his mouth.

Spencer's insides felt as if someone grabbed them in a tight grip. He couldn't get hold of Luc to rush to her apartment, but he needed to check on Felicia. Now.

Decision made, Spencer turned over the engine, put the truck in Reverse and maneuvered in the limited space to turn around. It'd take him some time to backtrack, but at least he'd feel like he was making progress. Better than sitting and waiting.

If only he could shake the feeling that something was wrong.

Hail mixed with rain, making visibility close to zero. He crept along, the speedometer not reaching twenty miles per hour. He couldn't take a chance on slipping off the road or running into another delay. Cranking the defroster to high, Spencer arched over the steering wheel, his fingers digging into the worn cover.

“Stupid! Look what you've done.” Winnie jumped back, nearly falling over the coffee table. She stared at her shoes as if a water moccasin had just writhed between her feet.

“I'm sorry. I'm not feeling well. It's the medicine.” Felicia wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. The room continued to spin. Why'd she ever pick out such loud and vibrant pieces of art? They all melded together in a psychedelic blend—a spinning, nausea-inducing blend.

Winnie glared. “You threw up on me.”

Why not state the obvious? “I didn't mean to.” Her voice came out as weak as Felicia felt. And her stomach continued to roll like a wave over the bayou.

Winnie jerked Felicia's arm. “Get into the bathroom, idiot.”

“I can't. My leg.” Felicia refused to move. She kept her injured leg propped on the couch, even though Winnie almost held her in a levitating position. Her arm would be ripped from the socket at any moment.

“Don't lie to me.” The old Winnie was back in control. The violent lunatic.

Felicia yanked her arm free, anger spurring on her words. “Do you think I'd have laid here and let you slap and shake me if I could get up?” She pressed a hand against her forehead. The pounding got louder. “I can't put any weight on my leg.”

“Stop sniveling. Get up.” Winnie grabbed hold of her arm again, jerking harder this time.

Snatching free, Felicia glared. “I'm not sniveling, and I can't get up. Don't you get it? Are you that stupid?”

Rage brightened Winnie's cheeks.

Uh-oh. Might not have been the smartest thing to do, insulting her. But Felicia couldn't help it. Her head hurt, her leg ached, the nausea wouldn't go away and she worried about Spence. He'd called a good fifteen minutes ago, at least, yet he hadn't shown up. Something was wrong. And she was beyond tired of this woman who'd barged in and bullied her.

“How dare you!”

Felicia glanced up in just enough time to dodge the fist Winnie threw. Missing her target only enraged her more. Grabbing Felicia's shoulder to keep her in place, Winnie reared back her arm, fist balled. Felicia grabbed the edge of the quilt and flung it over Winnie's head. The fist flung wildly, but missed her.

Shoving Winnie backward over the coffee table with a loud crash, Felicia almost lost her balance. She swayed, using the back of the chair for balance. Hobbling, she made her way around the end table, heading for the bedroom. The door had a lock—she could make a 911 call from the extension.

No such luck.

Winnie grabbed her bad ankle. Felicia screamed as pain tightened her muscles. She fell to the floor in a heap.

Pain knifing up her leg stole her breath.

Her head jerked backward so hard, white dots went in and out of focus in front of her eyes. Facing the floor, she reached behind her and tried to grab her hair away from Winnie, who only pulled harder. Chunks of hair had to come out with the last yank. Tears blocked Felicia's vision.

The agony. Every part of her body throbbed, each crying out for relief.

No! She wouldn't allow herself to be beaten. She'd keep fighting.

God, please help me. Give me strength.

Felicia ignored the pain in her head and struggled to flip to her back. Winnie leaned over her, hand still woven into Felicia's hair. Felicia kicked her in the stomach with her good foot. Winnie let out a hard
oomph
and let go.

Scooting on her backside, Felicia moved out of Winnie's reach. She scrambled to stand, hopping on her good foot, and headed for the hallway.

A fist connected to her side. Hard. She leaned against the wall and slid to the floor.

“Oh, no, you don't. I'm not done with you yet, princess.” Winnie grabbed her upper arm and jerked her to a stand.

“You've caused me enough trouble.”

Felicia teetered, her center of balance totally off kilter. All energy spent, she leaned heavily against Winnie, who walked her back to the living room and shoved her onto the couch. Landing hard, Felicia clenched her jaw against the pain.

Winnie rubbed her hip and scowled at the coffee table. “You broke it. Don't try to blame it on me.”

The woman had assaulted her, and she worried about being blamed for a broken table? She was certifiable.

“You attacked me.” And she hadn't been able to stop the raving maniac. Once again, Felicia cursed her disease and helplessness.

Winnie turned her scowl to Felicia.

Uh-oh. Bad move again. When would she learn to just keep her big mouth shut? Stop infuriating the raving mad lunatic.

Lord, I pray You'll give me wisdom and strength. I really need it right now.

Using conversation had worked, for a bit. Maybe it would again. Felicia sucked in a deep breath, situated herself more comfortably on the couch, and turned on her most sincere smile. “Look, I don't know how we got off track. Let's both calm down and talk about this. Whatever your beef is with me, let's work to resolve it, yes?”

Winnie hesitated a moment, then sat in the chair. While her stare was still hard, at least she wasn't coming out swinging.

Whispering a prayer of thanks, Felicia considered her options. She couldn't give in to panic or fear. She could either play nice and try to find out the root of Winnie's problem or she could take the defensive and see if she could get away from her.

Not much of a choice, really. Injured, she wasn't much of a match for Winnie. Escaping from Winnie would have to be moved to plan B. Only to be put into play if absolutely necessary.

Felicia prayed her words would find a welcoming spot in Winnie's heart. “Why don't you really tell me why you came to see me?”

Wow, when had her voice become so calm and steady?

It must have impressed Winnie as well, because the woman lost her angry look. She let out a soft sigh. “You betrayed me.”

Felicia's heart took another twist. Just what she'd told Spence, but he hadn't listened to her. Why hadn't she fought harder? These poor callers depend upon their identity and problems remaining anonymous. Felicia cleared her throat. “It wasn't my call to make. We have to look at the overall picture, and at the time, the police were looking into everything at the center.”

Winnie's arched her brows. “Really? Why's that?”

Maybe if she shared the truth, Winnie would understand. “One of our operators was murdered. The police were looking into a possible connection between her and any of the calls she'd taken.”

She had Winnie's complete attention now. “Does that happen a lot? People threatening y'all?”

“No. But when it does, we have to notify the police.”

“Hmm.” Winnie rested her elbows on her knees, studying Felicia. “And did they find anything?”

“No. The police arrested her boyfriend.”

“That Wesley Ellender I saw on the news?”

Felicia swallowed hard. “Yes.”

“And the police found the knife with him, right?”

“Yes.”

While Winnie pondered that, something niggled against Felicia's mind. Something off. She shoved away the feeling, wanting to keep Winnie talking rationally. Anything to buy her more time. Time to come up with something to get her out of the apartment. Or at least away from Felicia.

“Wonder if he'll get the death penalty.” Winnie spoke more to herself than Felicia.

“I don't know. So, you see, I didn't want to betray you. I didn't have a choice.”

Winnie snapped back to the conversation and narrowed her eyes. “Whose decision was it?”

A choking sort of fear scooted down Felicia's spine. “Well, the sheriff asked for any and all call records from people who'd been showing signs of aggression.”

“That pastor guy, he's the one who ratted me out, wasn't he?”

“No, the sheriff had a warrant.”

Winnie gave a snort and bounced to her feet. “Whatever. I should have known not to trust a man.”

This was going down the wrong path way too fast. She'd better do something or she'd be running for her life again. “It doesn't matter now, Winnie.”

“You don't think?”

Felicia forced a smile on her face. “No. Now, why don't you tell me about your ex?”

Winnie flashed those pearly whites of hers. “Let's just say he's indisposed.”

H
urricane season was still months away, but it seemed no one had filled the wind in on that fact. It whipped and cut through downtown Lagniappe like a current in the channel. Mardi Gras decorations marched across the roads and lawns. It was downright eerie to see comedy/tragedy masks cart-wheeling from the storm.

Spencer wiped his watering eyes. Straining to focus had made them ache. If only he could drive a little faster. At this speed, the route would take another ten to fifteen minutes to reach Felicia's. He inched down on the accelerator.

Should he try calling again?

He reached for the phone. His truck hydroplaned and fishtailed, the hood heading for the ditch. Spencer jerked his hand back to the wheel and steadily brought the truck under control. Water splashed against the undercarriage. Tires sung against the drenched pavement.

Thank you, Lord.

The snail's pace antagonized him, but he couldn't risk picking up speed. He wouldn't be much help to Felicia if he got in an accident. Grinding his teeth, he drove as slow as a snake in winter.

His phone rang. He jerked it from the console, never taking his eyes from the road. “Hello?”

“Pastor? This is Sheriff Theriot.”

“Yes?”

“I just wanted to let you know Felicia hit on something.”

“What?”

“Those knives. They
are
rather expensive. Miller's has gotten us a list of all the orders of people who purchased them in the past three months.”

“And?” Spencer didn't need to play guessing games while he drove.

“Felicia was right. None of the Ellenders have bought them.”

“So, what are you telling me?”

“We're still talking to everyone on the list, checking and making sure they have the complete set of knives.”

“But?”

“There's a chance she might be right. Wesley could be innocent.”

“And if he is?”

“Then we go back to square one. That means there still might be a link between the murder and your center.” The sheriff paused. “And that means he's still out there.”

All the more reason to get to Felicia and check on her. The killer could still be on the loose.

Indisposed? Did that mean dead?

Felicia clutched her hands in front of her and watched Winnie silently pace. The silent part worried Felicia. As long as Winnie talked, there was a hope, no matter how small, that this situation could end calmly. Even if Winnie ranted and raved and acted like a lunatic, at least she was communicating. But now…silence hovered in the room like a peeping Tom.

Besides the worry, Felicia wanted answers. “How, exactly, is he indisposed?”

Winnie plunked onto the edge of the chair and grinned. A wicked expression, really. “He's just, uh, unavailable right now. Probably for a long time to come, too.” She laughed that callous cackle of hers.

It unnerved Felicia. Something lingered just outside the fuzzy edges of Felicia's memory. Some detail Winnie had said that struck a chord. What? She'd already recalled Winnie had slipped up about the wheelchair. No, that wasn't it. Some important point.

If only she could remember.

Another memory invaded her. Spence's goodbye kiss. Actually, kisses. All over her face. Her heart flipped as she recalled how deep her love for him ran when he'd kissed her.

“What're you smiling about?”

Felicia jerked her thoughts back into line. How could she have been daydreaming in such a situation? Must be the painkillers. She snapped her full attention to Winnie. “I'm not. I'm wondering why you're being so cagey, yes? Why don't you just spit out what you did to him?”

Winnie laughed again. “I don't think so. It goes much deeper than your approval, princess.”

What couldn't she remember? What had Winnie said…something she commented on?

“Deep enough that you could face legal actions if anyone found out? Is that really why you're mad? Because the center notified the police about your plans for revenge?”

Laughter fled from Winnie. “Like I'd tell you if that were right?”

“I'd hope so. I mean, coming here, attacking me, holding me against my will…don't you think that's illegal?”

The darkness returned to Winnie's stare. “Good point, princess.”

Great. She'd gone and done it again—let her mouth overload herself. She'd better think fast or she'd be up a swamp with no airboat.

“But, not if nobody ever knows.”

Winnie crossed her arms over her chest. “Oh, and I'm supposed to believe you won't tell anyone?”

“If I give you my word I won't, then I won't.”

“Like my calls to you at the center weren't supposed to be discussed with anyone else?”

Oops, Winnie had her there. What was it Luc always preached—the best defense is a strong offense?

“You were threatening bodily harm to someone. We had no choice. I've already explained the situation.” As soon as she said the words, she realized how ridiculous that argument sounded. Winnie had already done more to her than merely threaten her with bodily harm. “That decision was out of my hands. This one isn't.”

“Forgive me if I don't believe you.” She shook her head.

“Past experience and all that, ya know?”

Distract her. That was Felicia's only chance.

“I'm really curious. How'd you get revenge?” She noted the scowl twisting on Winnie's forehead. “Oh, don't tell me about the ex if you don't want to. I'm wondering about his new girlfriend. The one who stole him from you.” Felicia's words tumbled over themselves. “I know you said she left. How'd you manage that?”

“I'm very resourceful when I need to be.”

“I'm sure you are. Still, the information might come in handy. Just in case a guy dumps me again.” No way would Winnie buy such a load of lies. Better think fast, something else to keep her talking.

But Winnie surprised her by sitting back on the chair. “You'd never be able to take it to the extremes I did.”

“Try me. I'm more determined than I look.” Felicia jutted out her chin in the way Luc always claimed showed off her stubborn streak.

Winnie snorted and rolled her eyes. “Not hardly, princess. You work at a crisis center, for pity's sake.”

Score two for Winnie. But Felicia was still in the game. Winnie hadn't gone berserk again. The talking was working. She just had to keep at it.

Until what? Someone showed up to save her?

No, she couldn't depend on anyone. She'd made too much of a fuss for anyone to try to take care of her. Had she shot herself in the foot with her demands to be left alone?

And then the lights flickered in the apartment.

Lights down the street extinguished with a pop.

Great. On top of everything else, a blackout. Spencer slowed his truck to less than five miles per hour. His headlights pierced the darkness. No vehicles approached. No lights glimmered in his rearview. The sensation of being totally alone almost smothered him.

He pulled into the apartment's parking lot and let out a long sigh of relief. Muscles in his neck bunched and twisted. He secured the bag of food under his arm, slipped out of his truck and stepped into water that covered his feet. Ducking his head against the driving wind and rain, he ran toward the walkway.

His shin made contact with something hard and unyielding, leaving him sprawled across the concrete. The bag flew across the courtyard and landed with a splat.

Spencer rolled to his back, gripping his smarting shin. So dark out here…what had he run into? He pushed into a sitting position and groped about in the darkness. Sure didn't want to chance hitting the unrelenting object again.

His hand made contact with cold metal. He ran his hand along the metal, gauging it to be about two feet high and not even a foot in front of him. Using the object as support, he pushed to his feet. He steered clear of the offending thing, veering left on his way around the corner.

Gait slowed by the ache in his shin, Spencer felt along the walkway. He counted the doors to Felicia's.

One.

Wind pushed sheets of rain against him.

Two.

Sirens screamed off in the distance. Pressure brakes of large trucks hissed from the road.

Three. Only two more doors to go.

Hiss!

Something rubbed against his sore shin. He jumped back and slipped on the slick concrete. His feet flew out from under him. He landed on his rear with an agonizing thud while water splashed up in his face.

Meow.

Stupid cat. Jumping out at him like that.

“Here, kitty, kitty, kitty,” an elderly woman called out over the wind.

Kitty? The thing was a nuisance. A threat to society, creeping up on unsuspecting citizens in the dark.

The cat gave a final hiss and brushed past him. Spencer dug his fingers into the brick wall and pulled himself to his feet. Now his tailbone joined his shin in vying for his attention. Pain was a great motivator.

In the pitch blackness, disorientation came easily. Had he already passed the third door when he fell? Or had it been the fourth?

Beams of light shot into the sky. Electric company workers searching for the source of the outage.

Now he remembered. He ran his hand along the wall again. Four.

An unusual smell ripped by on the wind. Like burning rope. Oh, no, he prayed the power outage wasn't due to fire. His determination to get to Felicia increased tenfold.

Five.

Spencer edged toward Felicia's door. He didn't want to alarm her, but if she wasn't answering the phone…

He'd left it unlocked.

With rain-slicked hands, he grabbed the knob and turned.