Blood on the Bayou: A Cafferty & Quinn Novella by Heather Graham Read Free Book Online

find,” she said. “Quinn, what about the murders twenty years ago? You probably remember more than I do.”
    “I remember that my parents wouldn’t let me anywhere near Honey Swamp. It was only young women who were killed, but it was as if a monster suddenly arose out of the earth. They never found a single clue as to who had murdered those women. The thing is, when you find a body in a swamp, even now, it’s hard to find any kind of evidence.”
    He paused, thinking.
    “David said that his name was written in the mud and the police didn’t see it. What if David imagined what was written? Maybe this has nothing to do with them. Then again, maybe it does. I say we check out the guy who applied for the job. Then, the realtor and the tour group lady.”
    “Jim Novak, Byron Grayson, and Victoria Miller. They mentioned her boyfriend or partner, too, a guy named Gene Andre. Andre apparently approved of their tour, which pissed off Victoria Miller. Quinn,” she asked, blue eyes wide and somber, “shouldn’t we be looking into the past? Or calling on Natasha, maybe.”
    “You want to suggest this has to do with voodoo?”
    “Certainly not. But Natasha has connections on the street, and she’ll remember the past better than we do.” She winced, looking at him sadly. “We could definitely get together with her and Father Ryan. At the very least, they’re older and both have excellent memories.”
    Quinn nodded. Father Ryan was a most unusual priest. Excellent at what was expected of him in his calling, capable of much more. He’d been there with Quinn’s parents when he’d flatlined. He’d been there when stranger things had happened and hadn’t even blinked. Maybe his faith allowed him to see beyond what others were willing to accept.
    Natasha Laroche—Mistress LaBelle—owned a voodoo shop just down the street. She was one of the most regal women Quinn had ever known. She sold the usual, gris-gris, statues, herbs, and all the customary voodoo paraphernalia, and read tealeaves, palms, tarot cards and more. But she was also a priestess with a devout following. She and Father Ryan, despite their passions to their own religions, seemed to have everything in common and worked exceptionally well together. Part of an odd assembly of strange crime fighters, and also great friends.
    “You go and see Natasha,” Quinn said. “I’ll check out this address and pick up Father Ryan.”
    He stood. Wolf, who had been sleeping at his feet, hopped up too.
    “You stay and watch over Danni,” Quinn told the dog.
    “I could swear he heard you mention Father Ryan,” Danni said. “Take Wolf with you. I’m fine. I’m nowhere near Honey Swamp and Natasha is just down the street. They should both be ready for whatever. We had intended to go out tonight, remember?”
    Quinn nodded and paused to kiss the top of her head. For a moment, he didn’t want to leave her, not even for a second. Her hair always smelled so clean and yet so evocative. He wanted to forget all about rougarous and dead bodies in the swamp. He even wanted to forget about a night out with music and friends. Lock the world away. Play out a scene from Gone with the Wind and sweep Danni off her feet, carry her up the stairs, dive into the comfort of their bed and the sensuality of her bare flesh.
     “Quinn?”
    He snapped back to reality. “Yeah, I’m going.”
    He headed for the door.
    The phone rang.
    It was Jake Larue.
    “I’m sure as hell not saying that there was a rougarou out there last night,” he told Quinn.
    He heard the “but” in Larue’s voice.
     “But the guy did follow those young women back to the city. The blood on their balcony matched that of the first victim. The man found last night in the bayou.”
     
    * * * *
     
    Jez, Natasha’s unbelievably handsome, mixed-race assistant, had apparently been told that Danni was coming. Natasha always seemed to know these things, exuding an air of mystery in her manner and demeanor. Jez