False Pretenses (26 page)

At least he wasn’t going to Langley Manor. Vanessa slowed the car. “Do you want me to pull over?”

“No. There’s an unmarked road up ahead.”

The Vincent place?
Did he know?

“There—on the right. Turn.”

Vanessa turned onto the road, feeling the same panic she did after Drew was shot and she thought the killer was coming back for her. The last thing she wanted was to be alone in that farmhouse with Shapiro.

If she were going to survive this, didn’t she have to be smart? Didn’t she have to win his confidence? Didn’t she have to make her move at just the right moment?

Lord, make me gentle as a lamb and shrewd as a serpent. I belong to You. You live in me. Don’t let him desecrate this temple.

“There’s a wooden bridge up ahead. Turn left at the mailbox just beyond it. You’ll see the name
Vincent
on it.”

Vanessa did as she was instructed, more panicked by the minute. Why was he bringing her out here? Did he even know Remy Jarvis had been murdered here? She glanced in the side mirror at the cloud of white dust behind her.

“There’s a farmhouse up this road,” Shapiro said. “That’s where we’re going.”

Vanessa resisted the urge to jump out of the car and run. Wouldn’t he shoot her—even if just to disable her? But if she waited for “the right moment,” would she still have the courage to seize it? How long could she refuse to give in to the fear that threatened to steal her hope?

She spotted the mold-stained roof of the farmhouse up ahead. Everything in her wanted to flee. Images of Ethan and Carter popped into her mind. How would they deal with losing her? She had to make it through this alive. She had to keep a clear head.

“Pull up in front of the house and kill the motor.”

Kill the motor? How she wished that was all he wanted killed. She did what he said, her stomach feeling as if it were falling down an elevator shaft.

“Now slowly hand me the keys.”

Vanessa took the keys out of the ignition and passed them over the seat to Shapiro.

He got out of the car, then opened the driver-side door. “Get out. I want to see your hands.”

Vanessa got out of the car, her hands up, and avoided eye contact with Shapiro.

“Well, aren’t you the pretty one?” He stroked her hair with the barrel of his gun. “I’ll bet your husband would hate to see that sweet face rearranged. You won’t like it either.” He laughed mockingly. “This is your last chance to tell me where Zoe and Pierce Broussard went—before things get very unpleasant.”

Terror seized her.
Lord, what do I do? If I go in there, he’s going to hurt me until I talk—then he’ll kill me and go after Zoe and Pierce.

Shapiro opened the hood of the car and tinkered with some wires, keeping the gun pointed at her.

“There. The car won’t start until I put everything back where it belongs—just in case you were entertaining the idea of stealing the keys and taking off.”

Vanessa glanced up at the dilapidated farmhouse and realized it was boarded up.

Shapiro grabbed her arm and turned her around. “Walk.”

“Where?”

“Toward those trees.”

Vanessa high-stepped through the high weeds toward a horizontal row of massive live oaks. Beyond them she saw a broad expanse of cane fields, the stalks tall and green and swaying in the breeze. On the other side was the Langley property.

A bumblebee buzzed around her head, and she swatted at it without even thinking.

Shapiro grabbed both sides of her neck and squeezed. “Keep your hands up and keep walking.”

“Where are you taking me? I don’t know anything.”

“Shut up.” He stuck the gun barrel flush against her back and nudged her forward.

Vanessa spotted a shed about thirty yards in front of her, and her knees nearly dropped her. Is that where he was taking her?

“You should know this farm is a crime scene,” she blurted out. “A man was murdered on this property. The place is crawling with sheriff’s deputies.”

“Not anymore.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yeah, I do. I make it my business to know everything the cops are doing.” Shapiro laughed. “That’s how I stay one step ahead of them.” He grabbed her hair and pulled her backward, his lips to her ear, his voice husky and threatening. “I’m a wanted man, a dangerous criminal. I’ve
killed
people. So either tell me where the Broussards are, or I’ll force it out of you. I always get what I want. It’s just a matter of
how
.”

Jude stood at the window in his office and looked down at the Saint Catherine Parish Courthouse. Billowy gray clouds hid the sun, and thunder reverberated in the distance. Maybe the rain would dampen the powder keg of racial tension until they could get a lead on who hanged Remy—and who shot Deshawn Macey in the park.

There was a knock at the door.

“May I come in?” Aimee said.

“Sure. What’s up?”

She walked over to him and handed him a folder. “You need to see this. Joe at the lab rushed through the evidence you obtained at the Broussards’ apartment as a personal favor to you and hit pay dirt.”

“I like the sound of that.”

“This was a total surprise, Sheriff. He was able to get viable DNA off a sweat droplet on Zoe Broussard’s tank top. It’s a match to the blood DNA on Remy Jarvis’s shirt.”

“You’re kidding.” Jude scanned the report. And then scanned it again. “So this Cowen character who was involved in Remy’s hanging is also the drug dealer who came to collect from Zoe?”

“Exactly. But it makes no sense.”

Jude arched his eyebrows. “Not yet. Let’s get busy and connect the dots.”

“I’m already on it. I’m assembling a team to dig deeper into Cowen’s background.”

“He told Zoe he was a master of disguises.” Jude picked up his cell phone and accessed the photo Aimee had sent him. “It’s hard to know who we’re dealing with. He could be anybody.”

CHAPTER 27

Vanessa trudged through the high grass to the metal shed, her face dripping with perspiration, her shoes suddenly feeling as if they were made of cement. No way was she going in there with Shapiro.

“Stop right there,” he said. “Kneel down and put your hands behind your head. I need to get something out of here. If you so much as blink, I’ll blow your head off.”

Everything in her wanted to run, but she couldn’t make her feet move.

“I said down on your knees.”

Vanessa complied. She looked out in the distance, beyond the row of live oaks to the sugarcane fields that lay between them and the Langley property. How far was it? Maybe a quarter mile?

She heard a squeaky door slide open. She glanced over at the shed and locked gazes with Shapiro, his arm extended, the gun pointed right at her.

“Don’t even think about it,” he said.

But she did think about it. Even getting shot sounded better than being tortured or raped or whatever else he had in mind. Images of Ethan and Carter popped into her head, and her vision blurred. Would she ever see them again? Why couldn’t she remember what her mother told her to do or not do if she ever found herself in a life-threatening situation?

Lord, I need a way out of here. Unless You help me soon, I’ll be seeing You face-to-face.

Was it death that scared her—or just the idea of being murdered? And of leaving Ethan and Carter to fend for themselves?

She heard the metal door slide shut.

“All right, get up. Keep your hands behind your head and walk in a straight line, toward the trees.”

Vanessa rose to her feet. “Please. You have to believe me. If I could help you, I would.”

“Yeah, I heard you.”

“Why won’t you believe me?”

“I believe you. Feel better?”

Vanessa was taken aback for a moment. “So why aren’t you letting me go?”

“You know too much.”

“How can I know too much when I don’t know anything?” Vanessa heard the desperation in her voice. “Please. I have a little boy who needs me. Letting me go won’t pose a threat to you. You’re obviously good at not getting caught.”

“That’s because I don’t leave eyewitnesses behind. Now keep walking until I tell you to stop.”

“Please … you don’t have to do this!”

“Yeah, I do.” He prodded her with the barrel of the gun. “Shut up and keep moving.”

Vanessa was curious what it was he had taken out of the shed but was afraid to turn around and look. She found the strength to move one foot in front of the other, her mind racing faster than her pulse. Why didn’t he just shoot her and get it over with? What was he waiting for?

She looked out across the cane fields and could barely make out the Langley property on the other side. How ironic that they were this close to Zoe and Pierce, yet Shapiro was clueless. At least they would survive this ordeal. There wasn’t anything she could do to save herself. Or was there?

“All right,” she blurted out. “I-I haven’t been truthful. I’ll tell you where the Broussards are.” What did she have to lose by making something up? Maybe she could buy some time. “They’re staying with Pierce’s cousin in New Iberia. Their credit isn’t any good, and they’re trying to borrow the money from someone in his family. I can take you to them. I know where it is.”

“I thought you hardly knew them.”

“I was afraid to tell you. I thought you’d hurt them.”

He laughed. “You thought right. That’s far enough. Stop here.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before,” Vanessa said. “But I’m telling you now. Please, I don’t want to die. My son needs me! I’m begging you. Just let me take you to them! We’ll both get what we want.”

“Nice try, Vanessa. But you don’t know where they are anymore than I do.”

“Yes, I do. I’ll drive you to New Iberia. Just don’t kill me. Please!”

“Kneel down and keep your hands behind your head.”

Lord, is this my time to die?
She remembered Ethan telling her that he had asked the very same question when he was running from his cousin’s killers. Was there still hope? Or was this it?

Vanessa almost bolted, but something inside her held her back.

What was Shapiro doing? He whistled some tune she didn’t recognize and seemed perfectly relaxed. Didn’t it bother him one bit that he was about to kill a child’s mother?

“All right, up on your feet. Keep your hands where they are.”

“If you kill me,” Vanessa said, “you’ll have to answer to God. I belong to Him.”

“Well,
I don’t
.” He came around and stood in front of her, surgical gloves on his hands, and opened a folding chair and sat it on the ground. That’s when she saw the rope.

She sucked in a breath. Terror seized her, and she fought back the tears. Was he going to hang her?

Lord, help me! Don’t let him do this!

He flashed a smug grin. “I hung that Jarvis kid on a whim—to distract the cops while I did my business with the Broussards. It’s been pretty entertaining. And since the cops think blacks were responsible for lynching Jarvis, they won’t have trouble believing blacks hung you in retaliation for the shooting in the park. Especially since this is the tree where Jarvis was hung—and the specific location was never released to the press. Only the killer would know.”

“You won’t get away with this. My mother’s a police chief. She’ll make it her life’s mission to solve my murder—and track you down.”

“Yeah, well. She’ll have to stand in line. I’m a popular guy.” Shapiro threw the rope over a low branch and tucked his gun in his waistband. “Don’t worry. It won’t be long before you lose consciousness.”

Vanessa homed in on the cane fields behind him and remembered Ethan’s stories of how he and Drew would sneak off to the fields and disappear for hours.

Run!
The voice was almost audible.
Go hide!

Vanessa lunged at Shapiro and clawed his eyes with her fingers, then ran as fast as she had ever run in her life toward the cane fields.

Shapiro hollered curses and threats. Shots rang out, and a bullet whizzed past her ear.

She pushed herself until she stumbled and lost her balance, but managed to stay on her feet.
Help me, Lord. Don’t let me fall. Don’t let him catch me.

Another bullet grazed her right shoulder, but she kept running, thinking about Carter and Ethan and how she refused to let this maniac steal her from them.

She was quickly closing in on the field. She could do this. She had to do this. She pushed herself until she thought she would collapse, finally bursting through the wall of green, her hands protecting her face as she ran the gauntlet of sharp leaves that whipped and scratched her skin, farther and farther from the mad man who would surely be in pursuit. Finally she stopped, her hands on her knees, and struggled to catch her breath.

Shapiro shouted that he was coming after her. Had he seen where she entered? What would he do if he caught her—shoot her dead and leave her here where she would be cremated when they burned the fields?

There was a road somewhere in these fields for bringing in equipment. Could she find it? Could she find help?

Then it fell quiet. Eerily quiet except for the sound of her panting and the buzzing of insects. Shapiro had stopped shooting. And shouting. She listened for the swishing sound of someone moving through the stalks and heard nothing. Where was he?

Jude sat at his desk, looking through the newly created file on the Broussard extortion case. What had Zoe gotten herself into? Normally he wasn’t sympathetic to someone who was a thief and a liar. But in the ten years he’d known Zoe, had she ever been anything but gracious? Did she deserve
this?
Did Pierce?

The intercom buzzed.

“Sheriff, there’s an Ethan Langley on line one. He says it’s urgent, and that he won’t talk to anyone but you.”

“Okay, Lisa. I’ve got it.” Jude picked up the receiver and put it to his ear. “Ethan, this is Sheriff Prejean. What can I do for you?”

“I think something’s happened to Vanessa! She was on her way to pick Carter up earlier this morning and never showed. I left three messages on her cell, and she hasn’t returned my calls. I just talked to Pierce and Zoe. They haven’t heard from her either, and she told me she was going to call them before she picked up Carter. I’m really worried. Something’s wrong.”

“When’s the last time you spoke with her?”

“At eight forty-five. She was just leaving Zoe B’s. Said some male customer had been staring at her—to the point that it gave her the creeps. I stayed on the phone with her until she got in her car and locked the doors. She sounded fine. But I haven’t heard from her since. And neither has anyone else.”

“Did she say what the guy looked like?”

“No. Just that the way he looked at her seemed threatening.”

Jude shook his head but made sure his voice didn’t register his grave concern. “You say she was sitting in the car with the doors locked when you last spoke?”

“That’s right. She was on her way to use the pay phone at Rouses Market—to check in with the Broussards. And then she was going to pick up Carter at the Corbins’. Ricky’s mother, Lindsay Corbin, just called me and said Vanessa still hasn’t shown up, and her phone isn’t working. Sheriff, I’m worried this has something to do with this Shapiro character. What if he was stalking Vanessa? What if he’s trying to get her to tell him where the Broussards are?”

Jude thought for a minute. Didn’t he owe it to Ethan to tell him what was going on? “I hate to say it, but that’s a real possibility. We just got new information on Shapiro.”

“What information?”

“His real name is Reagan Cowen. He’s wanted in Texas for aggravated assault and drug trafficking.”

“That confirms he’s dangerous!”

“Ethan, there’s more. We have DNA evidence that puts Cowen at the scene of Remy Jarvis’s murder.”

“
What?
”

“We haven’t connected the dots yet. This evidence has just come out within the past hour—after we went to the Broussards’ apartment and retrieved the clothes Zoe was wearing when she was accosted by Cowan. It was his DNA on Zoe’s tank top and Remy’s T-shirt. No doubt about it.”

“Then this guy’s a killer!” Ethan said. “What if he has Vanessa? What if he’s forced her to tell him where Zoe and Pierce are? They could all be in danger.”

“Don’t jump to conclusions. Let us check out your apartment first. Do you want to meet us there?”

“I’m at the clinic in Lafayette. It’ll take me forty-five minutes to get there.”

“Do you have a key hidden somewhere?”

“No,” Ethan said. “But go through the Broussards’ apartment out to the gallery. We leave our sliding glass door open.”

“All right. We’ll check it out. I’ve got your cell number. Is that the best number to reach you?”

“Yes. Call me as soon as you check the apartment. I’m coming back to Les Barbes. I need to pick up Carter.”

Jude sat at the desk in his office and dialed the number for the Broussards’ prepaid cell phone. It rang once. Twice—

“Hello.”

“Pierce, it’s Jude. How’re you doing?”

“What can I say, other than I’m glad we’re safe?”