Bayou Judgment (17 page)

T
he doorknob rattled.

Thunk!

Felicia groaned against the weight in her lap as Winnie climbed on top of her and wrapped an arm around Felicia's neck. “What're you up to?”

“It's a power outage. From the storm,” Felicia croaked. Winnie's forearm dug into her throat, nearly cutting off Felicia's breath. Felicia tugged, using her nails.

Winnie released her and dropped her voice. “Stop clawing me. And be quiet.”

“Get off of me.” Felicia shoved Winnie as hard as she could. A bump sounded against the coffee table.

The door rattled again.

“What's that?” Winnie asked in a whisper.

“I don't know. Maybe the wind hitting the door? I have a candle on the end table and matches in the drawer.”

“Don't you try anything funny.”

Felicia let out a snort and shifted down to the end of the couch. She fumbled in the dark for the drawer handle, got a hard grip and yanked it open. The drawer crashed to the floor. Loose items rolled across the hardwood floor as the drawer's contents scattered.

“What're you doing?”

“I dropped the drawer.” Felicia lowered herself to the floor, taking care not to hit her injured leg, and felt around.

Lipstick. No, Chapstick. She spread her hands to the right.

A pad of sticky notes. A pen. Breath mints?

Pounding against the door. A neighbor? Who would come out in this weather?

“Felicia. Are you okay? It's Spence.”

Hope shot through her until a strong jerk of her hair snapped her head back. Felicia groaned.

“Don't move and don't you dare say a word. Let him think you aren't here,” Winnie grated against Felicia's face.

“He knows I'm here. I've got a hurt leg, remember?”

“Then stay quiet and light the candle.” Winnie's hand tangled in Felicia's tresses.

“I'm trying to find the matches.”

Winnie dropped beside her, still keeping a tight hold of Felicia's hair but with less force. Items shifted on the floor. Winnie shoved something into Felicia's hand. “Here.”

A lighter? How'd a lighter end up in her drawer? She didn't smoke.

“Felicia. Answer me.” Spence's voice rose above the raging the storm.

“I'll let you go just long enough to light the candle. Try anything and I'll slice you worse than your curtains,” Winnie hissed.

Felicia maneuvered back to the couch and groped for the pillar candle. She located the tall column of wax and reached to flick the lighter over the wick, then hesitated. Revelation dawned on her. Slicing—knife!

The police hadn't ever mentioned Jolie had been stabbed to death. That news hadn't been available to the media. But Winnie had said “knife” when they'd talked about Wes being arrested.

How did Winnie know? And how'd Winnie know Felicia's curtains had been sliced to shreds?

An anonymous female caller had phoned the center and told Jolie that Wes had been with Sadie. An anonymous tip to the police had told them about the knife hidden in Wes's car. Did Winnie know Wes?

More pounding on the door. “Felicia, I'm going to break down this door if you don't answer me right now.”

Her mouth felt gummy. The only way Winnie could know those things was if she…she was the killer and the intruder! Felicia fisted her hand, the lighter digging into her palm.

Winnie murdered Jolie!

No, it couldn't be. Winnie didn't know Jolie. But how else…?

“What's taking so long?” Winnie's hand gripped Felicia's leg. Her sore leg.

She cried out and jerked her leg from Winnie's grasp.

“Felicia! I'm coming in.” Panic laced Spence's words.

Winnie grabbed Felicia by the arms and dragged her down the hall, bumping into furniture and walls along the way.

“Spence, help!”

Winnie released her long enough to smack her upside the head. Felicia let out a scream and clawed at Winnie's face. Winnie slapped away her hand and continued down the hall.

A loud thump rammed against the door, followed by a grunt.

“The dead bolt's locked. Call the police,” Felicia shouted.

Winnie rewarded her with a fist to the jaw.

Felicia's head whipped to the side. Stinging crept from her jawbone up her check and down her neck. The tangy taste of copper filled her mouth. She pressed a hand to her mouth. When she pulled it away, sticky moisture coated her hand.

Winnie flung them into the bedroom and slammed the door shut. In the dark, she fiddled with the knob. The lock turned with a resounding click. Seconds later, hot breath blasted against Felicia's face. “Now we won't be bothered.”

Fear didn't seep into her bloodstream like Felicia expected. Instead, hope sprung forth. Spence would call the police, and in a matter of minutes, they'd be knocking down her door. She just had to distract Winnie long enough. And she had a distinct advantage—she knew the layout of her bedroom. In the dark, Winnie wouldn't see the nooks and crannies.

She tried to scoot to the bed, but Winnie grabbed her. “Where do you think you're going, princess?”

Tendrils of wind thrashed outside the window, making a hissing sound. The thick smell of rain hung over the air, even inside the apartment. Felicia inhaled deeply, drawing in strength.

“I'm trying to get my leg out of its awkward position. You dragged me, yes?”

Winnie loosened her hold. “Do you have a flashlight or candle in here?”

“No. When you trashed my place, you broke them all.”

“Oh.” Then the air whooshed from Winnie. “Figured it out, did ya, princess?”

“That you broke into my place and ripped it to shreds? Oh, yeah, I got that.”
Figured out that you killed Jolie, too.
But she wouldn't share that bit of information just yet. “I just don't understand why.”

The bed ruffle rustled as Winnie moved. Felicia tested the area toward the bathroom with her other hand. No contact. So, Winnie'd shifted toward the window. Felicia held her breath and scooted about two feet toward the bathroom.

It, too, had a lock.

“What's that pastor doing out there?”

“Calling the police, I'm sure,” Felicia said loudly. Maybe Winnie wouldn't notice Felicia had moved farther away. “What're you going to do?”

“I'm thinking,” Winnie snapped. Her voice sounded as if she stood by the window, a good distance from the bathroom door.

Felicia chanced another scoot. Two more feet.

“You're so much more trouble than you're worth. Always stirring up more problems for me. It's always something. Even my so-called friend called the center to warn that hussy, but it was already too late.”

The cry of sirens shouted into the dark night.

“The game's up, Winnie. You'd better concentrate on escaping.” Another foot to the bathroom without detection.

“Shut up.” Fabric swished. “Does this window go up all the way?”

Felicia hesitated. She wanted to get away from Winnie, but she also wanted the police to catch her. Besides, she was almost in the bathroom. Her hand pressed against the cold ceramic tiles. “Sometimes it catches.”

“Let me see if it's locked.” More fabric moving.

Bam! Bam!

Winnie gasped. The mattress squeaked as weight landed on it.

Sucking in air as well, Felicia scooted herself into the bathroom. She leaned to close the door, but it stuck against the rug.

“Felicia! Can you hear me?” Spence shouted from the window. “Can you hear the police? They're coming. Hold on.”

Sure enough, the sirens were louder.

“I need to get rid of him. He's a nuisance,” Winnie mumbled more to herself than Felicia. The mattress creaked.

Would Winnie find something to hurt Spence? Felicia's heart twisted. Forget locking herself in the bathroom until the police got here—she had to do something to protect Spence. She couldn't just hide anymore. “Like you did Jolie?”

“What?” Footfalls on the rug. A jarring of the dresser. Clanks and bumps as Winnie groped about. Looking for a weapon?

“Felicia. Where are you? I'm going to break the window.”

“You mean, get rid of him like you did Jolie?” What could she use to protect Spence? She couldn't reach the medical scissors in the medicine cabinet.

“She took my man. My Wesley.”

Felicia felt sick. No, she had to concentrate. Had to find a weapon of sorts.

“So, you put the knife in his car and called the police, all to get revenge on him for dumping you?”

“I'm about to throw a rock in. Move out of the way,” Spence yelled.

Rustling, scraping and
oomphing
drowned out Spence's voice. Winnie must've lodged something against the window.

Sirens blared close. No more than a block away.

Think. Think. Think.

“I tried to warn him she was bad news. But, nooo. He had to fall in love with her.” Winnie's voice drew closer. “She had to pay. And when he wouldn't give me the time of day after she'd died, well, I had no other choice but to set him up. He'll spend the rest of his miserable life in jail.”

The shattering of glass echoed in the storm, but Felicia didn't hear the sound of a single shard falling to the floor of her room.

“I had no intention of hurting you. I even made that hussy take off that sweater you're wearing before I killed her. See, I didn't want to hurt you. I brought the sweater back when you were moving and snuck inside your old apartment and hung it up in the closet. Worried you might not find it, but you did. I know it's expensive. She had no business wearing your stuff. Trying to make herself look like something she wasn't. Always using your expensive stuff to lure Wesley. And then you go and thank me like you did….”

Footfalls off the rug, to the floor and onto the carpet. Heading toward the bathroom.

Felicia tightened her fist. Something lay inside. The lighter! She'd forgotten she'd held it.

“You had to go looking into those knives. Anna Beth mentioned the sheriff had come by and pulled her list. He's been questioning people who ordered them. Wanting to see their sets to make sure one isn't missing. I couldn't have that, now could I?”

Barely able to reach the edge of the counter with her fingertips, Felicia grabbed the aerosol can of hairspray.

The footsteps came closer. Almost to the bathroom.

Felicia fumbled to find the hole on the nozzle with her fingernail. She pointed it at the doorway, the lighter in position in her other hand.

Soles hitting the tiles with a squeak.

“I'm not in the mood for hide and seek, princess.”

Felicia flicked the lighter and pressed the nozzle.

From his position outside the window, Spencer watched as orange illumination lit up Felicia's bedroom like a fireworks show.

A woman shrieked in pain.

Worrisome chills raced down his spine. Spencer hammered harder with the rock, freeing the glass from the window. A piece of wood was wedged against the inside of the frame. He stood on tiptoe and shoved. Hard.

The orange light disappeared.

Sirens screamed close. The splashing of tires against water rang out, followed by the slamming of car doors.

The woman hollered again. Louder. Then the cry trailed off and silence prevailed. Not even a whimper.

Spencer knocked the wood from the window. “Felicia!”

“I'm okay.” Her voice sounded weak.

“Sheriff. Open up!” They could hear Sheriff Theriot's voice at the front door.

“Spence, I'm okay, but I can't make it to the front door.”

“I can climb in through the window. Hang on.”

He gripped the sill, ignored the glass cutting into his palms, and pulled his weight up and over the ledge. He crashed to the bed, rolling as he landed. The stench of burnt hair and something else vile filled the room.

The lights shot on with a hum. Illumination chased the corners of the apartment. Windows in neighboring apartments glowed.

Bolting to the floor, he spied Felicia crumpled against the bathroom wall.

A woman, he couldn't guess her age, lay on her back on the threshold. She writhed and moaned, her hands to her head.

Her eyebrows were gone, her flesh bore scorch marks.

S
pencer's mouth gaped. His eyes widened to the size of silver dollars. He stood rooted to the spot.

Felicia dropped the lighter and can of hairspray. “Spence.”

No response. He didn't even look at her.

Felicia pulled to standing using the bathroom door. “Spencer!” She slapped her palm against the wood.

He gave a shake and met her stare.

“I'm okay. Go let the sheriff in the front door before he busts it down. Tell him to call for an ambulance.”

He nodded but didn't move.

“Go!”

Her yell broke him from his trance, and he ran toward the living room. Felicia knelt beside Winnie. She grabbed the woman's hands, not letting her touch her burnt face again. “Shh. An ambulance will be here in a minute. Just be still.”

Winnie moaned and cried. “You did this.”

“I had no choice.” Regret nearly choked Felicia. She'd never harmed another human being in her life. Tears welled in her eyes. “I'm so sorry.”

The sheriff and Deputy Anderson stormed into the room, guns drawn. They took in the sight before them and holstered their weapons. The deputy took hold of Winnie's hands.

Spence returned to Felicia's side, pulling her into a hug. “I was so scared for you.”

“I'm okay. It's Winnie I'm worried about.”

“Winnie?” He cast his gaze to the woman lying on the floor, still writhing and bucking against the pain.

Felicia smoothed the singed hair from the woman's face. “Yes. This is Winnie.”

Sheriff Theriot, with his notebook in hand, squatted beside them. His movements were slow. “Want to tell me what's going on here?”

“She needs an ambulance. Did you call for one?” Felicia asked.

He nodded. “They'll be here in less than three minutes, now that the roads are cleared.” He touched Winnie's shoulder. “Ma'am, try to be still. Paramedics are on their way.”

Winnie rolled and curled into the fetal position. She struggled against the deputy's hold on her wrists.

The sheriff stood, nodding at Spence and Felicia to stand as well. Spence lifted Felicia easily with his arm around her waist.

“I need some answers here, Felicia.” The sheriff waited.

Felicia licked her lips. They felt cracked and chapped.

“This is Winnie, the woman who's been calling me at the center. The one we told you about.”

“Go on,” he instructed.

Spence tightened his hold around Felicia. She leaned against his muscular body, drawing strength. “She's also the woman who killed Jolie and broke into my house.”

A siren's shriek drowned out the sheriff's and Spence's combined gasp.

Once the paramedics had taken Winnie into the ambulance, the sheriff led Felicia and Spence into the living room. He prompted Felicia to give an action-by-action replay of the night's events. Then he asked more questions. “Who, exactly, is this woman?”

“Winnie. She's Wes's ex-girlfriend. The one he broke up with before he began dating Jolie.”

Spence laced his fingers with hers and squeezed. “Now it makes sense.”

“So, you're telling me that young woman killed Jolie because of a man?” The sheriff wore a skeptical scowl.

“Felicia?”

“Yes. She was jealous of Jolie because Wes had become serious with her. Winnie couldn't take it.”

He grunted and made notes in his little book. “And she just told you this? Confessed to everything, just like that?”

“Not exactly. I figured it out because she knew the murder weapon was a knife, and no one knew that.”

Spence scooted closer to her on the couch until his outer thigh pressed against hers. She squeezed his hand. “I called her on it, and she admitted the truth. Then she told me I'd made more problems for her by telling you about the knife sets at Miller's. Anna Beth told her you'd pulled the order list for the past six months and were questioning everyone who bought one.”

The sheriff's cheeks flamed. “You made a good argument.”

Despite the heaviness of her heart, Felicia smiled. “And that pushed Winnie to come after me. I guess she thought I'd brought the law down on her.” She shook her head, toying with imaginary lint on her pants. “She didn't make a lot of sense. Very irrational. And her moods were back and forth. I believe she's bipolar or has some mental illness.”

“And she's the one who put the knife in Wesley's car, then called us with an anonymous tip?” Sheriff Theriot scraped the pencil against the paper.

“Yes. After she'd k-killed Jolie, she believed Wes would run back to her. When he didn't, she felt even more betrayed. That's when she decided to set him up for the murder.”

Spence shook his head. “But did she call the center and ask for Jolie? To warn her?”

Felicia shook her head. “No. She says her friend called, but it was already too late.”

“What about breaking in here, to your place?” the sheriff asked.

Felicia tightened her grip on Spence's hand. “She felt like I betrayed her by reporting the calls she made to the center to you. She needs psychiatric help, Sheriff.”

He stood, pocketing his notebook. “We'll let the doctors decide that. Is there anything else?”

“Will she be okay? Her face, I mean?” She still couldn't believe she'd scarred someone else. Even if it was her best friend's murderer.

“I don't know. I'm heading to the hospital now.” He let out a breath. “Are you sure you don't want to go to the hospital and have them check you out?”

“I'm fine,
merci.
”

“It's an obvious case of self-defense, Felicia, but I'll need you to come by the station in the morning and sign your statement.” Sheriff Theriot tossed a knowing look at Spence. “Take care of her. I didn't phone Luc.” He glanced back at Felicia.

“That's your call to make.”

Spence stood and walked the sheriff and deputy to the door. The three men spoke in hushed tones for a few moments before the door shut. Then Spence was beside her on the couch, drawing her into his arms.

She snuggled against him, finally letting the tears fall. He held her tighter, patting her back and planting feathery kisses against her forehead and temple. “Shh. It's okay. It's all over now.”

“Is it?” She lifted her head and stared into his eyes. “For the rest of my life, I'll always see Winnie's face as I burned it. And I'll never forget the stench.” She pinched her eyes shut, but the memory wouldn't dissipate.

“Don't do that.” Spence's harsh voice snapped her eyes open. He gripped her shoulders tight. “You can't blame yourself for this.”

“But I lit the lighter. I sprayed the hairspray.”

“And if you hadn't, Winnie would've killed you. She'd already killed Jolie.”

“I know.” Her voice cracked, and she trembled. “But the flames just shot out. Her hair burned immediately.”

“Don't do this, Felicia. Take it from me, you can't take the blame for this. Guilt will eat you up inside until you can't breathe. I know from experience.”

“This isn't the same. I've scarred that woman for life.”

“Yes, and you did what you had to in order to save your life. Self-defense. My life wasn't at stake.” His fingers dug into her shoulders. “We were both dealing with murderers. Killers. People who took the lives of our loved ones. Horribly and viciously.”

He spoke the truth, but she knew she wouldn't ever forget Winnie's face. “What happened to him? The guy who killed your sister?”

“He died in another bar fight while I was in prison.”

She swallowed hard and stared at the floor.

Spence took her face in his gentle hands. “I won't let you allow guilt to swallow you. It will if you let it.”

She stared into the depths of his eyes, registering the layers of emotions lurking there. Her throat felt as if someone had it in a vise.

Seconds ticked off the clock as he dipped his head and teased her lips with his. Her heart scrambled into overdrive. Tingles shook her hands.

He deepened the kiss, his thumbs caressing her jawline. All images of Winnie raced from her head.

Ending the kiss, Spence kept hold of her face. “I refuse to lose you. I already thought I had tonight.”

Before she could reply, his lips covered hers again.

“Oh, I wish I was in the land of cotton…” The musical notes interrupted their embrace.

Spencer reluctantly released Felicia and snatched his cell phone from his hip.

“Old times there are not forgotten…” the stanza continued.

He flipped open the phone. “Yes.”

“Pastor? It's Luc. I've been trying to call Felicia but keep getting her voice mail. Are you with her?”

Staring into her flushed face, Spencer's heart twisted. “Yes. I'm with her.” Permanently. Even his conscience wouldn't keep him away from her any longer.

“How's she feeling? Pain medication still have her knocked out?”

Spencer covered the mouthpiece. “It's Luc. He wants to know how you're feeling.”

Suspicion shot into her eyes. “The sheriff said he wouldn't tell him.”

“He didn't. He's asking about your leg and the pain medication.”

“Oh.”

“Why don't you talk to him? Tell him what happened before he hears it from somebody else.”

She hesitated, then held out her hand.

“Luc? Here she is.” He passed her the phone before moving into the kitchen to give her some privacy.

Once he hit the tile around the corner, Spencer dropped to his knees.

Thank You, Father God. For Your grace and mercy, and keeping her safe. And for letting my heart know she's the one for me.