False Pretenses (35 page)

CHAPTER 38

Pierce turned his Toyota Prius onto
rue Madeline
, the traffic bumper-to-bumper and moving at a snail’s pace. He glanced over at the gold building with black trim and the new sign suspended from the gallery just above the entrance:

Zoe B’s Cajun Eatery

Pierce and Zoe Broussard, owners

Owners
. And partners. Something inside him stirred. He and Zoe made a great team. Hadn’t the past five years been the happiest of his life? Hadn’t he walked away from teaching without ever looking back—with little thought to the tenure and benefits and summers off? Teaching had been his profession, but cooking was his passion. Being able to bring that passion into a business partnership was a win-win for both of them.

Something caught his eye, and he looked up on the gallery above Zoe B’s. A man holding a toolbox stood outside the door. Zoe must have finally called someone to fix the broken bolt lock. That’s all he needed—a repair guy hanging around when he wanted to talk to her in private.

The cars ahead of him picked up speed, and he drove to the end of the block and turned right, then made a sharp right into the alley. He drove up behind Zoe B’s and spotted Vanessa’s Honda Odyssey. He wondered when the sheriff had released it, and if she would want to sell it after being forced by Cowen to drive it to the Vincent farm.

Pierce parked next to Zoe’s car and turned off the motor. Did he really want to do this? If he chose not to, and just drove back to Houma, would he ever be able to muster the courage to confront Zoe? To deal with the emotional wounds he felt right now? Or would he shut down?

He got out of the car and walked to the back door and unlocked it, then went inside and up the steps. He stopped in front of the door to his apartment. Should he knock? It’s not as though he was a guest.

He put the key in the door and slowly pushed it open. He started to call Zoe’s name when he heard voices in the bedroom and noticed the door to the gallery was left open a crack. His pulse raced. Was she entertaining a man? He dismissed the thought just as the man raised his voice.

Pierce walked ever so softly down the hall, slipped into the bathroom, and put his ear to the wall.

“You got my partner killed. Now you can pay
me
.”

“We d-don’t have that kind of money. I told Cowen we would have to borrow it. It would take time.”

“He gave you time. You stiffed him—
again.
Now you’re gonna pay with your life—but not till your husband pays me somethin’. I’m not walkin’ away from this with nothin’.”

“Please, I’m not the Zoe Benoit you think I am.”

“I don’t believe you. But I don’t really care. Let’s see how much that husband of yours can scrape up if he thinks he’s got two hours before I gut you like a catfish and throw you in the river.”

Zoe squealed. “You’re hurting me.”

“Trust me, I’m not. When I start hurting you, you’ll be beggin’ me to stop.” He laughed. “Now call your husband’s cell phone.”

No!
Pierce started to pat himself down, trying to find his cell phone before it could ring. He pulled it out of his back pocket and it slipped out of his hand and dropped onto the floor, his lively ringtone version of “The Sting” echoing in the bathroom. It was several more seconds before he could grab it and turn it off. He stopped breathing and listened.

“What was that?” the man said.

“Pierce’s cell phone. That’s his ring. He must have forgotten to take it with him.”

“Has your call gone to voice mail yet?”

“No.”

“Then why’d it stop ringing?”

Jude hung up the phone and turned to Aimee Rivette and Gil Marcel.

“We’ve got an ID on Cowen’s sidekick from the artist sketch we released to the media. The manager of an adult bookstore remembered him coming in a few days ago and pulled his credit card receipt. Suspect’s name is Jag Jones. He did time for robbery, aggravated assault, and drug possession. The Fort Worth PD had him under surveillance for drug trafficking, but he disappeared before they could move on him. Sure sounds like our guy. I’m thinking that the third set of shoe prints we cast at the scene of Remy’s murder belong to him.”

Gil raised his eyebrows. “Jones probably high-tailed it out of here after we took down Cowen.”

“Well, I just put out an ABP on him,” Jude said. “We’re going to get this creep.”

Aimee smiled knowingly. “Why don’t I call the Broussards and the Langleys and let them know about the new development?”

“Do it. Thanks.” Jude folded his hands on his desk. “Boy, what a difference a day makes. Once news got out that a white man was behind Remy’s murder—and that we took him out—the racial unrest came to a halt. Of course, it didn’t hurt that Deshawn Macey pulled through.” Jude’s mind flashed back to those fragile moments in the park when he was afraid the boy was bleeding to death.

“I’m glad we got it done before Remy’s funeral.”

“We all are.” Jude moved his gaze from Gil to Aimee. “But what we did between the time we found Remy murdered and the time we took out Cowen was equally important. We managed to keep a powder keg of racial violence from exploding. I have you two to thank for that. You did a brilliant job of putting deputies and police officers where we needed them—and with the pressure of the whole world watching. I’m proud of you.”

“Works both ways, Sheriff,” Gil said. “The way you represented this department in front of the cameras and behind the scenes makes me proud to be a part.”

Aimee nodded.

Jude felt his face flush and brought his palms down on his desk. “Okay, we’ve still got work to do.”

“I’ll go get ready for the afternoon briefing,” Gil said. “It’s great that we have an ID on this Jag Jones. Cowen got off easy. I want to catch this dirtbag and make sure he stays alive and goes to trial.”

Aimee rose to her feet. “I’ll go call the Broussards and the Langleys.”

The assailant forced Zoe down the hall, gripping the back of her collar with one hand and holding the knife to her neck with the other. He stopped her at the bathroom door.

“Where’s the light switch?” he said.

“Just to the right of the door.”

“All right, turn it on,” he said. “
Slowly
.”

Zoe reached to the right and flipped the switch, shocked to see Pierce standing with his back flat against the wall, his index finger to his lips.

“Do you see the phone?”

Pierce nodded at her.

“Yes,” she said. “It’s here.”

The assailant pressed the tip of the knife between her shoulder blades. “Slowly pick it up and give it to me.”

Zoe’s mind went into high gear. Did Pierce want her to lead the guy into the bathroom or away from the bathroom? He put the phone in her hand and gave a nod.

“Okay, I’m passing it back to you.” Zoe handed it over her shoulder to the assailant.

“All right, slowly back out of the bathroom, and keep your hands where I can see them.”

Zoe did as she was told.

“Now slowly turn around and walk into the living room and sit on the couch.”

Zoe made an about-face, her legs feeling wobbly as a colt’s, and moved toward the living room as the assailant prodded her with the knife. What was Pierce going to do? Surely he wouldn’t try to overtake this man? Was he any challenge for a criminal wielding a knife?

God, please don’t let him get hurt.

Pierce’s eyes searched the bathroom for something he could use to disable the assailant. He might get only one chance. Failure was not an option.

He opened the mirrored cabinet above the sink and quickly scanned the glass shelves. Pill bottles. Tweezers. Toothpaste. Dental floss. He picked up a tiny pair of scissors. Too small.

He pulled back the shower curtain. A bar of soap. Zoe’s disposable razor. Back scrubber. Nothing that would serve as a weapon. Hurry!

He spotted a can of bathroom spray. He grabbed it from the back of the toilet, his heart racing, adrenaline almost oozing from his pores. He would have to do this just right. If he missed, he could end up dead. Zoe, too. He peeked out of the bathroom. The creep had his back to him and was prodding Zoe across the living room.

Pierce took a deep breath. Gripping the can so hard his knuckles were white, he crept ever so quietly across the hall and came up behind Zoe’s assailant. It was now or never.

Pierce let out a battle cry that seemed to rock the walls. He grabbed the assailant, put him in headlock, and sprayed the aerosol in his eyes and nostrils until he dropped the knife. Pierce kicked it over to Zoe.

“Call 9-1-1!”

Seconds later, there was a loud pounding on the door.

“It’s Ethan. Are you all right?”

“No!” Pierce said. “Come help me hold this guy until the police get here.”

Ethan flung the door open and came rushing in.

Pierce held the assailant with pit-bull-like tenacity, not loosening his grip, though the guy screamed obscenities and clawed at his eyes.

Ethan, his hands on his hips, looked from Pierce to the assailant and back to Pierce. “I don’t know why you need
me
, man. This guy’s not going
anywhere
.”

CHAPTER 39

In the wee hours of the next morning, Pierce sat on the couch in the moonlit living room and listened to the
tick tick tick
of the grandfather clock, the events of the past few days racing through his mind.

It had been just one week since Remy Jarvis was murdered. How many lives had been dramatically changed by the two men responsible? At least Zoe was safe now. And Vanessa was on the mend. His mind flashed back to the image of Emile leaving the church after Remy’s memorial Mass. How would Pierce have dealt with it if Zoe had been murdered? The thought of living his life without her was unbearable.

Yesterday’s conversation with his father wouldn’t leave him alone. Burke Broussard was about the finest man he knew. How could he be flawed? Flawed like Zoe and saddled with the same kind of secret—a secret so shameful that he chose to hide it from his wife for over thirty years? Still … could there be any doubt that his parents were totally committed to the relationship? That they had managed to work through the betrayal?

You’re the one with the power.… This can have a happy ending. It just depends on how much grace you’re willing to give Zoe.

Pierce’s eyes burned with tears.
Grace
. What did that even mean? Was he supposed to forget Zoe fabricated her life’s story? That she was capable of deceiving him on that level?

“Can’t you sleep either?” Zoe stood in the hallway, wearing the lacy pink nightgown he bought her for their anniversary weekend.

“No. I’m wide awake.”

“Have you decided whether you’re going back to Houma in the morning?”

“I honestly don’t know what I’m going to do.”

Zoe turned and started to go back into the bedroom.

“Wait!” Pierce heard himself say. “Come sit with me.”

She hesitated for a few moments and then walked over to the couch, barefoot and childlike, and sat next to him.

It was all he could do not to pull her into his arms. Instead, he folded his hands in his lap.

“The truth is, I need to make a decision, and I’m torn.”

“I lied to you. How can you trust me now? I get it.”

“I don’t think you do.” Pierce blinked the stinging from his eyes. “You are half of my heart.…” His voice failed, and he paused to pull himself together. “If I leave you, I leave a part of myself. When we got married, we became a new creation. That’s what the priest said—a new creation. We’re one. You can’t separate that creation … without ripping it apart.…” Pierce stopped and swallowed the emotion that stole his voice again.

“I know I did a lot of things wrong,” Zoe said. “Please believe that I never intended to hurt you. I just didn’t want to lose you. I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you.”

His father’s voice resounded in his head
. She got herself in over her head and made some bad mistakes.… But I’ve seen how the two of you are together. I know love when I see it
.

“Can you ever forgive me?”

Pierce sighed. Could he? “I’m working on it, babe.”

Zoe cocked her head and looked up at him. “You said
babe
.”

He reached over and took her hand. “It’s going to take time to sort this out. But I just realized something: I’d rather suffer through it with you than suffer alone without you.”

Zoe’s eyes brimmed with tears that soon spilled down her cheeks. “I don’t know what to say. I never expected this. What changed your mind?”

“Some things Dad said.” Pierce took his thumb and wiped away her tears. “I’ve touched your soul, Zoe. There’s a part of you that no one else has been privy to but me. It has nothing to do with the name you had. Or what family you were born to.
That’s
the part of you I don’t want to lose.”

“Thank God,” she whispered.

“I can’t promise you this is going to be easy. Or that there won’t be times when I’m overwhelmed by it. But whatever we have to do to fix this can’t be any harder than living without you.”

Zoe let out a sob and then another and another until it seemed a dam of emotion had broken and the tears could not be stopped.

Pierce pulled her into his arms, trying for the first time to imagine all the pain
she
had been carrying, beginning with the horrible abuse she suffered in her parents’ home, to the helplessness of being dependent on Mrs. Woodmore, to the theft of the ring, the fabrication of Zoe Benoit, the dishonest money that bought Zoe B’s. Then living the past five years with the fear that Pierce might leave her if he found out. Her pain became his pain, and he let his tears fall and mingle with hers.

After a few minutes, his tears stopped, and he just held her. Finally he said, “We should get Ethan’s advice. Maybe he can hook us up with a counselor. You open to that?”

Zoe nodded, her sobbing softer.

“I already know he’s going to say we need to get God involved,” Pierce said, “though God must be helping us already or we’d both be dead. Vanessa, too.”

Zoe stopped crying and rested her head on his chest. “I’d give anything to be as comfortable with God as Ethan and Vanessa seem to be. They pray like He’s right there with them and they know He’s going to answer.”

Pierce took the bottom of his T-shirt and dried Zoe’s face. “And He did answer. More than once.”

“When I saw you in the bathroom, I prayed you wouldn’t get hurt. But I had no idea what you were going to do.” Zoe cupped his cheek in her hand. “That took courage.”

“More like fear. I overheard what the creep said he was going to do to you. I knew I had to act while I could.” The corners of Pierce’s mouth twitched. “Maybe there’s some poetic justice here. Whatever happens to this Jones character, the thing he’ll be remembered for is that he was captured by a Cajun with can of bathroom spray.”