Possession (15 page)

A
KELA FELT
as if she was back in law school replaying that mock trial she had lost all those years ago when she’d tried to prove the innocence of an accused man.

Only now there was nothing mock about what was happening. And the defendant wasn’t some fictional character, but Claude, who was even now sitting behind bars with her as his only hope of ever being on the other side of them.

“Come in, Detective,” Captain Hodge said.

The captain was maybe two, three years older than Chevalier. And as a result of some of the in-station investigating she’d done, she understood that the two men had been friends. Once. A place they would never get back to again, if past events were an accurate indicator. That’s what happened when you made the mistake of getting friendly with a man’s estranged wife.

Akela had relied on the bad blood to set the
stage for what she’d already shown to the prosecutor, Bill Grissom, and Captain Seymour Hodge.

Alan closed the door after himself. “What’s going on?”

“Agent Brooks has just been sharing some interesting information with us.”

Akela stood with her hands clasped behind her back as the detective stared at her.

“Yes, well, has Agent Brooks also filled you in on the fact that she and Lafitte have had personal relations?”

Grissom cleared his throat. “Yes, she has.”

“But that’s not why we’re here,” Akela said quickly, not wanting to relive one of the most difficult hours of her life.

She’d known she would be facing an uphill battle when she’d called the prosecutor and the captain and asked to meet with them jointly, mainly because her first item of business would be to address the rumors of her and Claude’s personal association. Only they weren’t just rumors. They were the truth.

As was Claude’s innocence.

She released her hands from behind her back. “What is at issue is the way this investigation was run from the moment the suspect now in custody was found outside the victim’s hotel room.”

Alan cracked a smile. “You mean the moment you tried to apprehend the suspect and he took you hostage?”

“Keep quiet, Chevalier,” the captain said.

Akela took that as her cue. “First, there was the blind eye turned to crime scene evidence—namely, the presence of trace evidence linking a third person to the scene.”

“The hair sample,” the prosecutor said, nodding.

“Yes,” Akela said, warming to her subject. “Next, there was the fact that the victim was involved with someone who had motive for wanting her dead.”

Alan rolled his eyes. “This is all circumstantial.”

The captain stared at him. “Let the woman speak.”

“Why? So she can make a case for her lover?”

Grissom said, “No, so she can free an innocent man from jail.”

Akela felt a spark of hope and quickly continued. “And last, but certainly not least, there’s the videotape I’ve secured of the hotel from that morning.”

Alan looked at her. “What videotape?”

She stepped to the side to reveal a media unit set up in the corner. “Something the detective said this morning made me consider an angle I hadn’t before. Namely that while the Hotel Josephine
didn’t have a security camera running the morning of the murder, that neighboring businesses might have.” She picked up a remote, pushed the button to switch on the television, then started a video playback. “This is footage I obtained from a bar across the street from the hotel.”

The image was grainy at best, but it was clear enough to show that the wide-angle camera lens had a clean shot of Bourbon Street and of the hotel, a timeline clock running in the bottom right-hand corner of the screen. They watched as Claude came out of the hotel, walking in the direction he’d been going when Akela had run into him.

Alan snorted. “That only places the suspect at the scene.”

Akela held up a hand, then pushed the pause button. “What else does it show, Detective?”

Alan stepped closer to the television set. “Nothing.”

“Look a little closer.”

There, in a second-floor window was the victim herself, very much alive, opening the window and leaning out, apparently smiling, using a sheet to cover herself.

“Jesus H. Christ,” Alan muttered under his breath.

Grissom said, “So that leaves the victim alive
when Lafitte left the hotel that morning, supporting his claim.”

Alan swiveled around. “He must have forgotten something and gone back.”

“What?” Captain Hodge asked. “Did he forget to kill her?”

Akela pushed the button for the video to continue. A figure in a black raincoat, hat and gloves entered the hotel. From that angle, and given the distance of the shot, it was hard to tell if it was a man or a woman. But what was very clear was that the guest was temporary, going into the hotel, then leaving some minutes later, very obviously in a hurry.

Akela pressed Pause again. “That, gentlemen, is our Quarter Killer.”

“Oh, come on,” Chevalier said. “You can’t buy this load of crap. The killer is in jail as we speak.”

“No he’s not,” Captain Hodge said. “I’ve put an order through to release him.”

“What? You can’t be serious?”

The prosecutor rubbed his chin. “He’s very serious.” He shrugged. “In light of the evidence Agent Brooks has produced, in addition to other details she has meticulously charted, there’s not enough for me to prosecute Jean-Claude Lafitte for the murder of Claire Laraway.”

“L
AFITTE
!” barked a guard.

Claude glanced toward the iron bars across the room to find the uniformed officer opening the door. He got up, not looking forward to appearing in front of a judge. The proceeding would only make everything that much more real.

“Has my attorney arrived?” he asked the officer as he held out his hands to be cuffed.

The officer ignored him, closed the door, then stepped down the hall toward the booking room.

Claude followed, staring at his uncuffed hands.

The officer stood at a counter, filling in some paperwork he then pushed in Claude’s direction. “Sign here.”

Claude looked at the documentation. “Is this something my attorney should see first?”

“You’re being sprung, Lafitte. If I were you, I wouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth, boy.”

Claude quickly read over the document, discovering that it was, indeed, a release form.

He signed it.

“Here.” The officer handed him a large Ziploc bag that apparently held his personal articles, then he motioned toward the door. “You’re free to go.”

Claude emerged from the county lockup, blink
ing at the bright midday sun where it hung high in the sky. One word, and one word only came to mind—or, more specifically, a name. Akela.

C
LAUDE FOUND IT
hard to believe that nearly two weeks had passed since he’d been released from custody with no formal charges brought against him related to Claire’s murder. His own attorney had been surprised by the move and hadn’t been able to explain it, but had counseled Claude not to get too comfortable, if only because the actual murderer had yet to be arrested.

What intrigued Claude more was that the past fourteen days had been more difficult than the time he’d spent on the run and in the county lockup, mostly because he’d gone without seeing Akela.

He paddled his well-worn, handmade kayak over the bayou waters, watching as a cottonmouth snake eased along the surface a few feet away and a kingfisher flew overhead. There didn’t seem to be a minute that went by that he didn’t think about her—remember her quiet moans…the taste of her essence on his tongue…the vision of her lying in
bed next to him, her soft skin against his…and wonder if he’d ever have the chance to touch her again.

He’d thought about calling her to at least thank her for doing whatever she had to spring him. Though she hadn’t completely cleared his name, she done enough to gain him his freedom so he might further investigate the case himself to ensure he never saw the inside of a lockup again. Now that he once again had access to his financial resources, and his purchase of Lafitte’s Louisiana Boats and Tours was complete, he had two private investigators checking into Claire Laraway’s past, trying to determine who would want to kill her and leave him to hang for the crime.

So his life was back on track. The problem was, he was no longer sure it was the track he wanted to be on. Oh, he still wanted the business, even had plans to expand it. Then again, it wasn’t so much the track, but the person who was missing from it.

Akela…

He headed for the shore near his cabin. He didn’t like that things had ended between them the way they had. Then again, he’d suspected all along that they would end badly. How could it be otherwise considering the circumstances? A fugitive on the run, wanted for murder. A sexy FBI agent who had been caught in his seductive web. Nowhere in the scenario was there room for happily-ever-after.

He steadied the kayak and stepped out into the shallow water, hauling the boat up to shore with him after placing the paddle inside. He’d long stopped challenging the voice that asked him if he’d really been interested in a long-term relationship with the conservative federal agent. There were some things, he was coming to understand, that couldn’t be questioned. And love was one of them.

Unfortunately, the woman he chose to fall in love with was the one woman he could never have.

He grimaced, taking off his wet boots and walking toward the cabin. The sun was slanting against the porch and for a minute he thought he saw Akela standing there at the top of the stairs. He rubbed his eyes with his free hand, thinking he’d been out on the water too long—or, more precisely, gone without her for much too long.

“Hi.”

He hadn’t been imagining things. There, wearing a pretty flowered dress and the kind of strappy red sandals that were designed to turn anyone’s head, her brown hair curling around her beautiful face, was Akela.

Claude drew to a stop at the bottom of the stairs, remembering every precious moment they’d spent together. He hadn’t even dared hope that she might be willing to reenter his life once his innocence
was proven. Only his dreams had conjured up the vision he was seeing.

He didn’t know what to say. So he said nothing.

Akela looked suddenly uncomfortable. “I, um, went by your place in the city a couple of times,” she said, looking everywhere but at him. “I figured you’d probably come out here to get your feet back under you.” She gestured toward the kayak. “That’s something I’ve always wanted to try.”

Claude still couldn’t find words to say to her. He hefted his boots on top of the steps then rolled up his jeans a couple of turns.

“What are you doing here, Akela?”

He was as surprised by his question as she apparently was, and was even more startled by the brusque way it had come out.

“I…” she trailed off.

He climbed the steps and stood directly in front of her, the heels she wore putting her almost nose to nose with him. Looking at her, he wanted her more than he wanted his next breath.

Unable to suppress the urge any longer, he curved his hand around to the back of her neck and hauled her to him for a kiss—one that was harsher than he’d intended and that was filled with all the emotions twisting in his stomach.

She made a strangled sound and he broke off, staring at her eyes wide with shock.

The screen door hinges squeaked behind her. Claude blinked, for a moment shoved back in time when Akela had been there for professional rather than personal reasons. Had new evidence surfaced? Had she come to arrest him again? To finally put him behind bars and throw away the key?

His heart turned over in his chest as he looked down at the four-year-old who stood next to Akela, taking her mother’s hand in her smaller one.

Akela cleared her throat. “Claude, I’d like you to meet my daughter, Daisy. Daisy, this is Mr. Claude.”

He crouched down so he was at eye level with the girl. “Well, hello, Miss Daisy. What a nice surprise it is to see you here.”

The little girl was all blond curls and smiles. “Mommy and I are making you breakfast.”

Every brick Claude had used to defend himself against Akela, the wall he’d erected to protect her from him, crumbled away, leaving him strangely exposed and vulnerable to these two women—two amazing ladies who were much more than a man like him would ever deserve.

“Daisy, honey,” Akela said, her voice thick, “why don’t you go in and arrange the place settings?”

“Okay!”

The four-year-old rushed for the door, which clapped shut after she went inside.

One of the hardest things Claude had ever done in his life was rise to his feet to face Akela.

“I’m…”

He was what? Sorry? An apology seemed to fall way short of the mark when it came to how he’d been handling this.

Then the significance of not only Akela’s appearance, but her show of faith by bringing her daughter with her, hit him full force in the solar plexus.

“I know this, our visit, must come as a shock to you, Claude,” Akela whispered, her moist silver eyes revealing the demons she, herself, must be battling. “I’d hoped that what we shared was more…well, more than just sex.”

Claude suddenly couldn’t breathe.

“I…well, the simple truth of it is that I haven’t been doing very well without you,” she said. “I can’t sleep at night, and when I do, my dreams are filled with you. I can’t eat. I can’t concentrate on my job…” She smiled awkwardly, sadly. “And I’m coming to learn that there are some facts I’ve got to face.”

Claude simply looked at her, wondering if he’d ever seen anything so beautiful in his life.

“The first of which is that I love you.”

His stomach clenched. She…loved…him.

Around him the bayou sang her song. Water trickled. Cypresses whispered. Birds fluttered.

Akela laughed without humor. “I know, that’s probably the last thing you want to hear from any woman—”

Claude enfolded her in his arms so quickly she lost her balance. He immediately steadied her, burying his nose in her soft hair, breathing in her sweet, citrusy scent.

“Au contraire, chere,”
he murmured, holding her so tightly he was afraid he might be hurting her. “Those are exactly the words a hard, jaded man like me needed to hear.” He pulled back to look at her, then kissed her lingeringly. “But not just from any woman. From you.”

And right then, that moment, he vowed that while he might not be the man deserving of her love now, he would do all he could to be that man for the rest of their lives together.

Then he took her hand and led her to the house where Miss Daisy was setting the table for breakfast for three.