“Got it.” Clay got up and left the office, followed closely by Daniel.
Minutes later, Daniel was in his car and headed toward the swamp that half-surrounded the small town of Dark Waters. It had been well over a year since there had been a murder in town. At that time eighty-year-old Claude Breaux had shot his seventy-nine-year-old wife during a fight between the two. Apparently, she hadn’t made his eggs right that morning and a verbal argument had ensued. In the end, Claude had grabbed his gun and shot his wife.
It had been an easy solve as Claude had come into the police department and crying uncontrollably, he’d confessed to the crime.
The murder of Mystique was a whole different animal. She had worked in the darkness of night and secrets had been her commodity. She had been a very powerful woman in the small town of Dark Waters, and powerful people made powerful enemies.
It had taken them two days to process her bedroom, seeking anything that might lead them to a killer. However, they had found nothing there to move the investigation forward.
His thoughts immediately shifted to Angelique. The three sisters were all pretty, but he found Angelique to be absolutely stunning. He tightened his hands on the steering wheel as he pulled to a stop in the small parking area in front of the swamp’s entrance.
She was definitely beautiful, but he hadn’t missed the defiance that had snapped in her eyes, or the stubborn rise of her chin as he had spoken to her.
He stared at the swamp ahead. The trail leading in was nothing more than a small path with thick vegetation on either side. It looked dark and mysterious but there were a lot of people who called the swamp home.
Mystique’s shanty was deep in the swamp. Dark water surrounded it, along with tall tupelos and bald cypress trees. It was definitely going to be a pain to end his nights by going in to meet with Angelique.
However, she could either be a help or a hindrance in the investigation. While he understood her need to find her mother’s killer, he would agree to almost anything to keep her out of his investigation.
Chapter Two
It was just after five that afternoon when Angelique carried her small suitcase from Dominque’s place to her home in Mystique’s shanty. Dread rose as a bitter taste in the back of her throat when she unlocked the front door and stepped inside.
She set the suitcase down and then stood for a long moment and stared at her mother’s bedroom door. She needed to see the room and exorcise the memory of the last time she had seen her mother there. Her fingers trembled with emotion as she walked over and took hold of the doorknob.
She had no idea in what condition the police had left the room. With a deep breath, she opened the door. The mattress was now bare. Apparently, the police had taken the sheets and blanket with them as evidence when they had left.
It didn’t smell like murder in here, rather the air still held the lingering soft lavender and vanilla scent of her mother. Grief squeezed Angelique’s chest.
Considering the police had thoroughly searched the room, it was in surprisingly good shape. The only thing missing was Mystique. Once again Angelique’s heart squeezed tight. She stepped back out of the room and closed the door behind her.
There was one other room she needed to check out. It was the smallest of the bedrooms and had been the room where her mother met her clients. The round table there was covered with a deep purple cloth and there were two chairs, one on either side.
A large scarf with images of the sun and moon and stars covered one of the walls, and there was a bookshelf next to where her mother would sit. The shelves held jars of salve, lotions and potions that she’d used, along with herbs and plants and other items.
This room had been searched as well. She could tell because some of the items were out of place. Again, she was pleased that at least the police hadn’t trashed the room in an effort to search it for clues.
She went back to the front door, picked up her suitcase and then went into her bedroom. It was also a relatively small room, but she’d always found it cozy and comfortable.
There was a double bed, a dresser and two nightstands. The bed was covered in a lilac-colored spread and the single window held matching curtains. As she unpacked her things, her mind whirled in a million directions.
A renewed grief took hold of her and for several minutes she sat on the edge of her bed and wept. She’d tried so hard not to cry in front of her sisters, but now the suppressed tears from the past week fell.
She didn’t know how long she wept before she finally managed to pull herself together. It was now close to six o’clock, and she had no idea what time Chief LeCroix might come by. And he’d better show up, she thought with a touch of anger.
She needed to know just how committed he was, to not only solving this crime but also keeping her up-to-date as to where the investigation was going. She had a right to know everything that was being done to find the killer.
However, she knew he was right that she shouldn’t go running amok through his investigation, but over the past week she hadn’t seen much of an investigation on his end happening.
Once her tears dried, she went out the back door to the deck that surrounded the shanty. She started up the generator that was usually run during her work and dinnertime.
She went back inside and plugged her phone in to charge and then pulled out a two-burner cooktop from under a kitchen cabinet.
She hadn’t eaten much of the catered food earlier, and now a pang of hunger shot off in the pit of her stomach. There was no refrigerator, only a cooler packed with blocks of ice to keep things cold. Over the past week of her being gone, the ice had melted and the only thing that could be salvaged was a half a dozen eggs and some stale bread. Dinner was scrambled eggs and toast.
She cleaned up the mess and then moved into the living room, where she sank down on the sofa, her thoughts turning to Daniel LeCroix.
There was no question that he was one of the handsomest men she had ever seen. He had a reputation as a fair and just lawman. It had truly been a low blow for her to intimate that maybe he wasn’t doing a thorough investigation because they were swamp people. From everything she’d heard, he was completely unbiased and treated both swamp and town people with the same level of respect.
