Cursed (Decorah Security #21) - Rebecca York Page 0,57

up and down, taking in her tousled hair, rumbled clothing and sleepy face.

She kept her face turned toward the sheriff, and Andre waited to see if she was going to back down on the lie.

“Yes. All night,” she answered,

“So, you’re doing more out here than just cataloguing the books in the library?”

“My personal relationship with Mr. Gascon is none of your damn business,” she said.

“It is when it’s tangled up with a murder investigation.”

“You’re saying Henri Dauphin was murdered,” she asked carefully.

Carl Brevard answered. “Yeah. I was there. I couldn’t see nothin’, but I heard a big cat growl. Heard Henri scream. Heard the claws tearing at him.”

“But you didn’t see anything?” she clarified, her voice cool and collected, and if he had ever doubted her abilities as a detective, Andre could see now that she was a thorough professional in her job.

“I didn’t see nothin’,” he admitted. “Henri, he got up to take a leak. I was in the tent.”

“What were you doing camping in the bayou?” she demanded.

He looked down as he scuffed his foot against the Oriental rug, leaving a track of mud which Janet eyed with distaste. “After we dropped the car off, we was plannin’ to do some fishing.”

“You mean alligator poaching, don’t you?” Dwight Rivers muttered, voicing what Andre had been thinking.

“And you didn’t bother telling anyone you’d be gone,” Morgan clarified. Which means you’ve had people running around looking for you since you left here.”

Rick looked defiant. “I don’t have to tell no one my business, Anyways, that’s not the point. The point is that the big cat killed Henri.”

Everyone else knew where this was going. But Morgan, who had been here less than a week, asked the obvious question. “And what does that have to do with Mr. Gascon? Are you accusing him of having a pet jaguar in the bayou?”

Andre felt his heart block his windpipe as he waited to hear how the man would answer.

The sheriff cleared his throat. “We found a leather jacket near the campsite. A jacket people in town have seen Mr. Gascon wear.” He turned to Andre. “I’m going to have to take you in.”

Even as he felt panic threaten to swallow him up, Andre struggled to keep his voice even. “Was the jacket worn at the elbows?” he managed to ask.

“What about it?” Jarvis said, not exactly answering the question.

“That jacket was in my SUV. I was taking it to a church sale. But with everything that’s been going on out here, I didn’t get a chance to drop it off.”

“So you say,” Jarvis answered. His voice turned hard as brass. “We’ll straighten this out down at the police station.”

“No!” Unable to control a spurt of panic, Andre backed away. Maybe he intended to run. Maybe not. All he knew was that he couldn’t take a chance on spending the night in a jail cell. He had to stay out here—at Belle Vista, where he was safe.

He realized instantly that he had made the wrong move. All at once, a gun materialized in the sheriff’s hand. “Hold it right there,” he said with the finality of the guy who holds the winning hand. “You’re coming with me.”

Andre went stark still. In a moment of panic, he had made a terrible mistake. Now he was a dead man. Or as good as dead.

As if from a long way off, he heard Morgan speaking. “You can’t do this.”

“I’m afraid he can,” Rivers said.

The sheriff pulled Andre’s hands behind his back. As if it were happening in a dream, he felt cold metal clanking around his wrists. He could hear the sheriff reciting his rights. When he was asked if he understood, he answered with a mechanical “yes.” He understood all right. This was the end of his life as he knew it.

His gaze shot to Morgan. There were so many things he needed to say. But he couldn’t tell her any of them in front of this crowd.

“I’ll get you out,” she said.

All he could do was nod wordlessly, because whatever happened, it was too late now for him—for them.

As Jarvis hustled him toward the door, he saw Carl and Rick Brevard looking on in satisfaction. But Dwight Rivers didn’t seem quite so gleeful. Maybe Rivers really was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. But he wasn’t the man holding the power.

Jarvis kept the gun in his hand as he hustled the prisoner to the police cruiser in the driveway. Opening the back door,