Afternoon, the same day
Madge pulled Roche aside. “Bleu’s settling down. I don’t know how I’d cope if that happened to me.” She frowned, watching his face very closely.
They stood in the upstairs hallway at the rectory. Bleu, bathed with Madge’s help, her wounds dressed by Dr. Reb Girard, was in one of the bedrooms. Next door to her, Wazoo slept again, helped by a sedative Reb insisted on.
“Bleu’s incredible,” he said. “I never met a woman like her before and I know I’ll never get so lucky again.”
Madge nodded, without meeting his eyes.
“You’ve got your reservations about me,” he said. “I know what the rumors were. Something did happen, but it was never the way it sounded.”
He got a faint smile that suggested a thaw. Madge Pollard was a lovely woman. She and Cyrus were polite to each other, but the long looks that passed whenever one of them thought the other wasn’t noticing didn’t bode well for a peaceful future.
“Bleu had a really nasty marriage,” Madge said. “Michael Laveau hid what he really was until after he got her to himself. I don’t know all the details, but it was bad. Bleu’s admitted that. I knew there were serious problems, when he stopped letting her see me. He cut her off from everyone.”
“She should have left him,” Roche said, aware that his suggestion might not go over well around here.
Madge surprised him. “I told her that. I was getting ready to take some action—not that I knew what it would be—when Michael was arrested. Cyrus would have helped me. He believes everyone deserves justice. He’s very open-minded about…” She turned the corners of her mouth up quickly. “He would always help me.”
“I know he would,” Roche said, without taking his eyes from hers. “He’s an incredible man. One of a kind.”
Madge didn’t look away either. “I know.”
“You haven’t seemed happy.” He could afford to take a little risk. “Neither has Cyrus. You’re his right hand here. It might be perfect for both of you, but it’s not, is it?”
“I’ll check on Bleu,” Madge said and limped past him. She looked back and added, “If she got hurt again, really hurt, I don’t think she’d ever let herself love someone else.”
Madge carried on and went into the first bedroom on the left.
He’d been warned, Roche realized.
Madge and Cyrus’s issues had better wait until a killer was in custody. Roche knew what he wanted for himself. At least, he was just about sure. He thought Bleu wanted the same thing. What he wasn’t certain about was the timing.
He wished he didn’t get scared of losing her every time he considered trying to slow things down between them. Not that he was sure he could.
It would be unlikely, if not impossible.
Dr. Reb came from the bedroom, her red hair piled up, haphazard but still managing to look lush and gorgeous. The mother of two kids, she was slim and fit. She and Marc made quite a couple.
She put a finger to her lips until she drew close. “Bleu’s been through a nightmare,” she said. “The good news is that he didn’t sexually assault her. She’s in good shape physically, apart from bruises and some lesions where she tried to free herself. But getting over the shock could be longer-term than we’d like. She needs to be watched for delayed reactions…. You know what she needs to be watched for, Roche. Is that something you could take on—if you think it’s appropriate—or should I refer her to Sig Smith?”
“Let’s see how it goes,” he said. “I’ll ask her what she wants to do.”
“Don’t let her suspect you think she’s got a problem—or that you think she could develop one.” Reb turned a bit pink. “Sorry—there I go telling you your business again. That’s the thing with being a small-town practitioner—you end up dealing with everything, and you start to think you know more than you do.”
“You’re modest,” he told her. “I know your reputation.”
“Thanks. On to the other issue. Want to tell me what happened to Spike? If he walked into the doorjamb at that hut like he told me, he’d either need to be even taller than he is, or leaning sideways. Even then, catching himself under the jaw like that would have been some trick.”
Roche leaned on the newel post at the top of the stairs. “Is that what he told you? He walked into something?”
“Uh-huh. Lucky he wasn’t knocked out, but it shook him up.”
“I hit him,” Roche said, examining telltale contusions on the knuckles of his right hand. “I saw Bleu and lost it. Spike wanted me to stay back, to cut down tampering with any evidence. I had to get to her.”
That got him a long, long look. “I’d like Spike to get some sleep, but he won’t listen.”
“Everything’s breaking open,” Roche said. “We can all feel it. There isn’t time to lay around now. He can collapse later. We all can.”
“Yeah,” Reb said, but not immediately. “Bleu says she’s got to talk to Spike and to Cyrus. She’s agitated and very determined.”
He didn’t miss that Bleu apparently hadn’t asked for him.
Reb smiled. “You should see your face. She wants you, too. She also wants to get right up, because supposedly there are things she has to do. I’ve persuaded her to stay put for an hour or so.” The doctor slid off her rubber gloves as if it took great concentration. “You could go in and keep her company, if you like. But make sure she doesn’t overdo. Keep out anyone who doesn’t need to be there.”
“Of course.” Try as he might, he couldn’t manage to feel chastised. “Where’s Spike now?”
“In the sitting room.” She nodded down the hallway. “With Cyrus. I’ll tell Spike to hold off questioning Bleu until you give the all clear.”
He smiled at her. “Thanks.”
“Roche!” Bleu called out from the bedroom.
Reb raised her eyebrows. “Her voice is mending really fast.”
He went into the simple room where a single bed stood against one wall. There was a chest, a bedside table and a chair. White curtains fluttered weakly at the window.
“Hey,” he said. She still smelled of lavender soap. “I’m going to sit here with you while you get some rest. Reb says you need to sleep for a few hours.”
“I can’t sleep yet,” she said. Bleu gripped the sheet with both hands. “That noise is Doug clearing over at the old school,” she said. “We’ve got to stop it.”
Her reaction puzzled him. He sat beside her on the bed. “No, we don’t. Anything that gets things started is good. Doug wanted to do it, so you’d see it was happening when you got back.”
She wore a plain, white cotton nightgown and looked as appealing as if she were wearing a frothy piece of almost nothing. She didn’t look as appealing as when she wore nothing at all. “Can I kiss you?” he said.
Bleu frowned, clearly agitated. Then she smiled at him and sat up, reached for him.
Carefully, he stroked her shoulders, ran the backs of his fingers up and down the sides of her face and neck.
She raised her chin in an invitation, and he accepted it. They kissed softly at first, but he’d known that wouldn’t last. He stopped himself after he’d thrown back the bed covers and slid a hand up her leg.
“Sorry,” he said, resting his forehead on hers. “It’s all your fault for being so sexy.”
Bleu caressed his face, pressed small, hard kisses on his lips and ran her tongue over his bottom lip. She teased out his tongue and his urgency began all over again.
Panting, she pushed on his chest. “We wouldn’t like it if Cyrus walked through that door.”
“He wouldn’t. Not without knocking.” He kissed her again, and held her. “You nearly killed me last night—I was afraid I’d lost you.”
She lowered her eyelashes. “I didn’t think I’d see you again.”
Bleu played her fingertips over his mouth, but pulled the covers back up to her neck. “I’ve got to talk to Spike and Cyrus. I’ve figured it all out. Or I’ve made a good start.”
“The deaths? Tell me what you think.”
“It’s what I know now. I don’t want to say it all more than once. I’ll get dressed.”
“Stay here,” he said and went in search of the other men.
They lounged on Cyrus’s old, green leather couch in the sitting room, but shifted gears fast when he told them Bleu thought she had a revelation.
“I shouldn’t be here anyway,” Spike said. “I’ve got to get going.”
Roche took him by the arm. “I didn’t have an excuse for hitting you.”
“Yes, you did,” Spike said. “You wanted to get to the woman you love.”
The bluntness startled Roche. “I shouldn’t have done it. I apologize.”
“Accepted.” Spike narrowed his eyes. “If you try it again, you’d better be sure it’s another sucker punch. If I see you coming, I’ll enjoy evening up the score.”
Roche believed him.
He knocked on Bleu’s door and she called them in at once.
Bleu looked first at Roche. She loved looking at him. Even more, she loved feeling him.
Just the thought started her skin stinging.
“Hey,” Cyrus said. “You’re looking good, Bleu.”
“Thank you,” she said, glancing at the dark bruise on Spike’s jaw. She’d been told about Roche swinging at the sheriff and was almost ashamed of her reaction. She liked it that he’d punch another man out to get to her.
Shameful!
Her exhilaration fled as fast at it had arrived. “We’ve got to stop Doug,” she said, indicating the window. It sounded as if more pieces of equipment than before had joined in the job of excavating and leveling.
“We’re not stopping,” Cyrus said. “We’re taking very close precautions. The town is swarming with uniforms. But we’re not letting anyone scare us off.”
“You and I didn’t die,” Bleu said seriously. “Yet.”
Backing up each point as she went, she told them her theory about a deeply disturbed relative of one of the children who burned in the fire years ago.
Spike pulled the chair forward and sat down. “That must have been way before my time. Kate Harper went to the school, though?”
“Yes,” Bleu said. “She told us about it, and it was horrible.”
“I hadn’t known the story before,” Cyrus said. “Probably no one wants to talk about it.”
They became quiet.
The sound of the machinery on the other side of the church roared on. Bleu rubbed at her arms and set her teeth. She wanted decisions, quickly. “What could it hurt if we said it had been decided that spot is just too small to be built on? You could tell everyone it’s being leveled to turn into a garden now and you’re going to the archdiocese to ask permission to find another piece of land.”
Spike’s radio crackled. He got up and left the room quietly.
“Cyrus?” Bleu said.
He looked bemused. “I haven’t got any plans to go to the archdiocese about other land.”
Bleu rubbed her temples, but didn’t miss the grin Roche sent her way. “No, no,” she said. “You haven’t. I was thinking ahead. But it would be all right to say the area’s only being leveled for now, wouldn’t it? We don’t know exactly what’s going to happen after that, do we?”
Slowly, Cyrus shook his head, no.
“There. That’s what we’ll do then. If I’m wrong about what I think, and I don’t believe I am, we can decide what to do then.”
Cyrus didn’t look as certain as she would like him to, but he was wavering in her direction.
A lot of noise came from elsewhere in the house. Banging. Laughter. Other sounds Bleu couldn’t identify. “Why would anyone be laughing?” she said.
“Why not?” Cyrus asked. “Laughter’s good. We’re in the middle of a nightmare, I’ll take any laughing I can get.”
After a scuffle, there was a loud knock at the door.
“You don’t need to knock, Spike,” Bleu said, sitting straighter in the bed.
It was Ozaire Dupre who entered the room. Two leashed dogs trotted in ahead of him. “Spike had to go back to the station,” he said. “Hope you’re feelin’ better. Seems like a good time to get this dog thing sorted out. Dr. Savage and me spoke about it last night—before you was kidnapped. He wants you to have a good watchdog, ma’am, so I’ve brought a couple for you to look at.”
Cyrus looked benevolent. But Roche stared from Ozaire, to the dogs, to Bleu and back again. He didn’t seem happy.
“This girl’s mostly Australian sheepdog,” Ozaire said, pointing to a large, shaggy black-and-white animal with a pointed nose, brown eyes surrounded by dark lines like kohl on an Egyptian queen, and a wiggling bottom with no tail. “I reckon she’s got a pretty good mess of somethin’ long in the mix, too. Look at her body.”
The body was, indeed, long. Bleu held out a hand and the dog licked it all the way to her elbow. Resting her head on the mattress, she raised alternating brows while she watched Bleu.
Jumping up and down like Shrek’s donkey, the other dog, a two-tone brown, as good as shouted, “Choose me.” It had not been bred for beauty. Bleu pointed at it. “Dachshund. Schnauzer. What else?”
“These are both dogs that won’t be available long,” Ozaire said, as if Bleu hadn’t asked him a question. “You don’t often see specimens like these.”
“Nope,” Roche said. He crouched to ruffle the dachshund mix. “Ridgeback, too, I think. Look at his fur.”
A line of short fur stood up along his spine.
The first dog climbed on the bed.
Bleu looked at Ozaire who behaved as if nothing was out of the ordinary.
The other animal left Roche and followed his buddy. Bleu got a face-licking from both sides before the pair settled down, each with a head in her lap.
“They’re great dogs,” Roche said. “But they aren’t what I had in mind. We need a well-trained thoroughbred. Something with a reputation for making a great guard dog.” He reached to lift the smaller one off the bed.
“Don’t,” Bleu said. “He’s fine there.”
Ozaire pointed to his offerings. “You won’t find more loyal, protective dogs than those right there. If I were you, Bleu, I’d take my pick of ’em and have done. You won’t be sorry.”
“Look at them,” Cyrus said. “Instant attachment.”
“How old are they?” Bleu asked.
“Toady’s nine months,” he said, pointing to the dachshund mix. “Killer’s almost a year.”
“Someone called this pretty girl Killer?”
“Probably just for effect,” Ozaire said. “Toady’s a real suck-up.”
“Who gets them—I mean, who’s next in line after you show them to me?”
Ozaire puffed out his cheeks. He let the air out and looked at the floor, winding the leashes around his fingers. “They got left behind when some drifters moved on,” he said, all but kicking a toe into the carpet.
“You mean they’re like—brother and sister? They’ve been together?”
Ozaire nodded sadly. “I made up what I said about folks waiting for ’em. Reckon they’ll go to the pound now. But don’t you worry about it. You can’t get all tied up in knots over every critter that needs a home.”
Bleu blinked very fast. “So you don’t even know how old they are?”
“About what I said,” Ozaire said, still with his eyes lowered. “I know about dogs. You gotta look at their teeth and bones and stuff. Age I said is about right.”
“Someone’ll take ’em from the pound,” Roche said gruffly.
“Probably,” Ozaire agreed. “Could be. I’d better get on. Here. C’mon.” He pulled on the leashes.
Bleu looked at Roche and shook her head. His half grimace, half smile made her grin. “I want them both,” she said.
Ozaire straightened. “You got good taste. These two are winners. I’ll give ’em another bath and get ’em all dolled up for you.”
“They are dolled up,” Bleu said. “And they’re tired out, too.” Killer and Toady appeared to be asleep.
“Yes.” Ozaire did something close to a bob. “It’s been a bad day, that’s for sure, but you’re doin’ a good thing, Bleu. These two will take care of you. I’ll help you train ’em.”
“Thanks,” Roche said.
“I told you I’d find the right one,” Ozaire said.
“You found two,” Roche reminded him.
“Will you listen to that?” Ozaire said of the pounding from outside. “Music to the ears. We gotta get on with that school—make this place live again. Doug’s boys are tearin’ things up out there.”
Bleu wished she could get out of bed, and would once she was alone. “We’re going to wait a bit on doing anything about the school,” she said.
“Why would you do that?” Ozaire said. “The sooner we get on with it, the sooner that crazy out there knows he’s beat.”
“Can you keep a secret?” Bleu said.
Cyrus shifted and started to get up.
“We think the reason Jim died, and now Mary, is because of the children who died in the fire,” Bleu said. She got a lump in her throat thinking about it.
Handing the leashes off to Roche, Ozaire shook his head. “What fire was that, then?” he said.
“Wake up, Ozaire,” Cyrus said sharply. “The fire that burned the school down. The school people are dyin’ over. Your family’s lived here forever. You must know about it.”
“Oh,” Ozaire said. “I never saw it. Me, I was a little’ un. I heard it was a terrible blaze. Went too far before anyone knew, so they couldn’t do a thing about it. That would be with it happenin’ in the middle of the night.”
“It happened when all the children were there,” Cyrus said, sounding angry now. “They burned to death.”
Ozaire shifted from foot to foot, his face crumpled into puzzled folds. “Nope. It went up in the middle of the night. No one died.”