Degrees of darkness, p.87
Degrees of Darkness, page 87
While Cody dealt with her recovery from alcoholism and her own bout with PTSD, Logan did what he could but was unsure how to help her. What he had done to cope was no longer available for his daughter. And during that period in her life, it ate him alive that he was powerless to save her. Thank God for LeBeau. The Cajun—though the instigator in some of Cody’s troubles—had been the right man to bring his daughter back from the brink. That lone fact kept Logan from smashing in LeBeau’s face after Cody had been kidnapped and later when their old home was blown to bits. But there were still times he’d wondered what his daughter’s world would have been like had the Cajun not come into her life. And with that came the nagging regret that Logan shouldn’t have agreed to their marriage. Would she have met a—safe—cowboy who was more than capable of running The Red Moon with her? Or would she still be riding the barrel racing circuit, chasing her momma’s dream of an NFR win, single and enjoying it, as she had been before Remy came into her life? Cody had been through the wringer with the death of Jodi and her abusive relationship with McCord, but she had finally been happy once she healed from those tragic events.
Groaning, Logan scrubbed his face and forced away those thoughts. Cody was an adult. He had to stop looking at her like his little girl. She’d more than proven capable of protecting herself. And for that, he had Remy to thank. If not for all those problems, she might not have learned anything more than the little she knew.
A solitary man resting on a bench caught Logan’s eye. Slowing his pace, he studied the man. At first glance the guy appeared to be gazing at the statues of the horseback cowboys, but as Logan closed in he noticed the man was dozing. The odd angle of the nose seemed familiar. He could just make out the cleft chin through the gray scruff. Long, scraggly hair peeked out from under a black-and-white bandana. Wearing a faded pair of jeans, a well-worn T-shirt, and sneakers, the man looked out of place for The Plaza.
Logan stopped inches from the man, his chest constricting until the air was painfully squeezed from his lungs. Reaching out, he grasped the man’s bony shoulder and gave him a little shake.
The man’s head lurched up and startled, hazel-colored eyes latched onto Logan. He blinked a few times before his eyes widened. “Sarge?”
“Hump.”
Jack Humphrey adjusted his body to make room for Logan and swatted the empty place. “Take a load off.”
Slowly, Logan lowered himself next to his former corporal. He scanned the area, clasping his hands between his knees. “This isn’t a safe place to be if you think someone is following you.”
“Safer than any other.”
“Come home with me, Hump. My son-in-law is a cop and his partner is a vet. They’ll know what to do to keep you safe.”
Hump shook his head, sending his scraggly curls flying. “Can’t, Sarge. Can’t put your girl in danger.”
“She’s handled worse before.”
Hump’s eyes glazed over. “Not like this.” He shifted to face Logan. “You remember that day? ’Member how I said no good would come out of that mission? And the woman told us we’d be fine?”
Closing his eyes, Logan bowed his head. He remembered all right. Remembered every second of that day and the ones that followed. “We were told a lot of lies back then.” He returned his attention to Hump. “Careful how you talk about my wife.”
Hump and Prophet were the only two from the squad who knew about Jodi, and that Logan had married her.
“Sorry, man, no offense. I know she was just as shocked as us when we got to the village.” Hump’s shoulders slumped and he fiddled with the tattered shirt hem. “Except for you and me, there’s no one left who knew what those cards meant to us.”
Each card had represented one man in the squad and his rank. It was their way around giving away their commanding officers when they were in the field. Logan had bent the rules when he gave one to Jodi. The ribbing he received from his guys left a lasting impression, but it probably had saved Jodi that day. “My wife knew.”
“She was the only one, ’cause you gave her one. Did she tell her men?”
Shrugging, Logan sat back. “I don’t know. I don’t think so.”
Hump shuddered like an autumn leaf during a storm. “It’s a ghost then. Ghost of one those guys who died on the mission.”
“You’re losing it, man.”
Hump slapped his knees. “I’m not! How else do you explain it?”
Logan couldn’t. The half-crazed man next to him was right—only the squad and Jodi knew the meaning behind the specific cards assigned to the men in that group. There was a slim possibility she had mentioned it to someone on her team; a few of those guys made it out alive, but after the failed mission each one of the CIA operatives were squirreled away into different sectors of the agency and decommissioned. Jodi never learned where her former team members were sent, and how many were still alive, before her death.
“I can’t explain it.”
Suddenly Hump vaulted to his feet. “I’ve gotta go.”
Catching his arm before he could take off, Logan stood. “Hump, wait.” He withdrew his wallet and pulled out a business card. “Take this.”
Hump eyed the card, frowning. “Why?”
Grabbing the man’s hand, Logan pressed the card into his oily palm. “In case you need a place to hide out. My address is on there.” He curled Hump’s fingers around the paper. “Stay safe.”
With a curt nod, Hump extracted his hand and hurried off.
As he watched the former corporal retreat, Logan’s mind flashed back to the day. To the moment right before they walked into that village, when Logan was staring at that same backside and wishing the damn plowboy would shut his yap about his bad feelings.
To this day he still regretted not listening to Hump’s instincts.
Chapter Sixteen
A shadow fell across his reading. Prying his eyes from the file, Remy looked up into the stringent features of Lieutenant Steele.
“Where’s your partner, Detective LeBeau?”
“Working the Kent case, ma’am,” he shot the answer at her.
Merde! What the hell was taking so long? It was nearly five and Anderson hadn’t returned from his trip. After an unproductive visit with narcotics over the recent gang massacre—they were still dumbfounded about the sudden and swift execution of the E-Z gang—Remy had slaved over the files on Hammond’s trials and what little evidence they had on the Kent murder and the connection between the two men. Out of the fifty or so files Remy studied, half of them were trials where Hammond had Leland Kent in the courtroom.
Grabbing a nearby chair, Lieutenant Steele slid it closer and sat. She picked up a file from the unread stack and opened it. “He’s been gone most of the day. Is this normal for the two of you to work separately this long?”
She was fishing. If she really wanted that question answered she could easily ask Moreno. Then again, Moreno might be wondering what the two of them were up to as well.
“Depends on the case.” Remy resisted the urge to snatch the file out of her hands. She was in an administration position now, not working active cases. Mais non, that hadn’t stopped Moreno from poking his nose in now and again.
A frown marred her smooth features. “According to Moreno, you and Anderson kind of do your own thing, whether it’s by department regs or not.”
Definitely fishing. “Pardonnez-moi, is there a point to this, Lieutenant Steele?”
She flipped the file closed and tossed it onto the pile. “He also warned me about your recent use of that sissy language.”
Like setting a live mudbug into a boiling pot of water, Remy’s blood heated. Growing up he’d dealt with the lingering attempts to eradicate his native language, the snide “coon ass” comments, and when he moved to New Orleans the flagrant snubs from the Creoles who thought the Cajuns nothing more than bastardized French. He’d nearly removed his French Cajun lexicon after being banished to Dallas. But after reuniting with his family and marrying Cody, he’d returned to his native tongue. And nobody’s scornful remarks would change him.
“Ma’am, since le grand dérangement of my ancestors from Canada to the Louisiana swamps, there has been nothing sissy about us. However you think and feel about me and the way I talk, keep ’em to yourself, because I guarantee I won’t be so respectful the next time, rank or not. I don’t look down on you and your ancestry.”
Both pencil thin eyebrows lifted and her dark eyes sparked with challenge. Slowly, a smile slashed across her face. “Now there’s the LeBeau everyone’s been talking about.”
As quickly as the anger swept over him, it fled, and confusion took its place. “Were you baiting me?”
“Still fast on your feet, too. Appears married life hasn’t dulled you in the least.” She picked up the file she’d returned to the stack. “LeBeau, I’m aware not everyone in homicide is happy with me taking Moreno’s place. Believe me, I’m not out to get anyone.”
What was she trying to pull? Bretta Steele didn’t do buddy-buddy. “I return to my previous question: is there a point to your interruption?”
“Yes, there is. I’m up to speed on you and your partner’s spat from last year, and I wanted to make sure you two have worked through the issues. Moreno seems to think you have since Anderson was your best man, but I’m reserving judgment.”
“It’s been ten months since that problem arose, lieutenant. Both Detective Anderson and I have come to terms with it and, as you put it, worked through the issues.” Minus the possibility that his partner might have tried to steal Cody from Remy.
“Excellent.” She gave Remy a cat-got-the-mouse smile and stood. “I like all my gears to be well-oiled. Makes running the department easier.”
Holding steady eye contact with her, Remy nodded. “Agreed.”
With a curt nod, she turned to leave. Remy opened his mouth to stop her from walking out with the file but was halted when she spun back and pitched the file into his lap.
“Tonight, I’d suggest you question your father-in-law about his connection to your two murder victims outside of that domestic in your lap. I wouldn’t want that new wife of yours dragged into yet another Dallas PD case.”
Off-guard, Remy fumbled with the file folder, then slapped it on the table. He vaguely heard the conference room door click shut as he wrenched open the file and found Logan’s and Cody’s names plastered across the top of the hearing notes.
A hearing to put in place a protection order against Austin McCord. McCord had been a no-show, which gave Hammond the right to place the order. But it was the name next to Logan’s that stilled Remy’s heart. Representing the Lewises was Leland Kent.
• • •
The front door rattled on its hinges, startling Cody out of her queasy stupor. Heath had left hours ago and the first wave of nausea hit her. Three cups of herbal tea later, she still felt like someone was continually rolling over her stomach with a skid loader.
“Cody?” Remy’s fractious tone made her wince. Great, he was peeved about something.
And she wasn’t in the mood to butt heads.
Carefully, to avoid upsetting her stomach any more, she sat upright on the sofa and swung toward the front entrance. “I’m right here,” she said quietly.
Remy hesitated halfway across the floor. With his suit jacket and tie draped over his right arm, his shirt partially unbuttoned with the sleeves rolled up, the shadowing of his scruff, and his hair in total disarray, he looked ready for a knock down, drag out fight.
Whatever had him ready to spit nails, she didn’t dare face it sitting down. Bracing her hands on the sofa armrest and the cushion, she eased onto her feet, then squared off with him. “What did I do now?”
He flinched. Gradually, his features softened. “What’s wrong? Why are you so pale?”
“I’m a redhead; we’re always pale.”
Setting his jacket and tie on the hand-carved bench at the entrance, he crossed the floor in a few strides. “Mon cherie, you’re more washed out than normal.” He reached to touch her face. “Worse actually.”
Swatting his hand away, she glared at him. “Don’t deflect. You stormed in here ready to bite my head off. So, what is it this time?”
Remy stared at her, keeping his mouth closed. A weird light played in the dark depths of his eyes. Oh yeah, he was pissed about something and now didn’t want to start a fight because he thought something was wrong with her.
Men!
“Oh for Pete’s sake.” She waved him off then shuffled past him, heading for the kitchen. His hand on her shoulder halted her escape.
“Cody, I’m trying real hard not to blow a gasket. Give me a few seconds.”
“Yeah, well, when has that ever stopped you before?” She shrugged out of his hold and stalked away.
Behind her, he muttered in French. Yeah, she picked up a few of the swear words he was fond of using when he got mad.
Yanking open a cabinet, she pulled out a plate and slapped it down on the counter. From the fridge she removed a plastic container with leftover spaghetti and tossed it onto the counter next to the plate.
“Why are you picking a fight?”
She whirled around and pointed at her chest. “I’m not the one picking a fight. You’re the one all pissed over something, which I would just love to hear what that is.”
“I’m pissed? I asked if you were feeling okay and you came at me like a mama gator protecting her nest.”
This was pointless. Turning away from him, she pried off the lid to the spaghetti container. The aroma of basil and tomato made her stomach clench. Swallowing back the sudden rise of bile in her throat, she let the lid flop back onto the container and backed from the counter. What was wrong with her? The only time food ever turned her stomach was when she was nervous or upset. Well, this fight with Remy over whatever the hell was wrong with him was upsetting her.
He placed his hand on her shoulder and tried to turn her around. Cody struggled against his hold until he grasped her other shoulder and forced her to face him. She refused to look him in the eye, instead staring at the freed top button of his shirt.
“Let’s try this again. I’ve had a bad day that ended with not-so-great news and I took it out on you.”
If that was supposed to be an apology, she wasn’t buying it. Between Heath’s visit and her still missing Dad, on top of these weird physical ailments, Cody hadn’t exactly had the best of days either. He could placate her all he wanted; she wasn’t about to let it go.
“So this not-so-great news has to walk in through the door with you?”
“It concerns you.”
“Oh, and that justifies it?”
Remy’s hands flexed on her shoulders. She could imagine he was thinking of wrapping his hands around her neck and shaking her.
“Damn it, you’ve been hiding stuff from me again.”
Panic replaced her anger. How’d he find out about the rape? “What are you talking about?” she blurted.
“I’ve got two homicides and the victims were connected. And today I learn you and your daddy are also connected to them. Not once did either of you bother to relay this information to me at any point since we married.”
Freeing herself, Cody curled her hands into fists. God help her, she was about to punch him. “Like I know what the hell you’re talking about. What victims?”
“Shit.” Remy reached up, hesitated as if thinking of touching her again, then drove his fingers through his wild hair. “Did either of you even bother to read the papers for the past few days?”
“No.” She crossed her arms. “Since I married you, I stopped watching the news and reading the papers, because I don’t want to know what case you’re working on. It’s bad enough dealing with you leaving all the time and your mood swings when those cases are real bad. Oh, you know, like now.”
His arms snapped to his sides and he glared at her. “Do the names Elijah Hammond and Leland Kent mean anything to you?”
Like a double-tap to the chest, both names staggered Cody. Warmth fled from her body and the acid in her stomach churned, making her more nauseous than before. “They’re … dead?”
“Murdered.” His brown eyes darkened. “Oddly enough, the connection was brought up to me by my new LT. The hearing was over whether to award a permanent protection order against one Austin McCord.”
Cody gripped the backrest of a nearby stool. Her knees knocked, threatening to bring her down. She was mysteriously being harassed by the only man she could think of who would do it; the only man who knew about the rape. And now the judge and the lawyer who helped her get rid of Austin forever were both dead.
“I thought we were past keeping secrets from each other?”
Her attention jerked back to Remy. “This was never a secret. If you’d had the incentive, you could have pulled the records and learned all you needed to.”
“Damn it, Cody. From the start you’ve never told me anything about McCord. You skirt around the truth, and you bury it. Hell, your daddy knows nothing about what happened.”
“And this attitude is the exact reason I’ve never said a thing to you. It’s none of your business.”
Remy slapped his chest. “You’re my wife! It is my business. Everything about you is my business.”
The stiffness in her muscles melted at his authoritative tone. What a nice way to find out the man she loved was more interested in lording his control over her than being her partner. Screw him!
“This conversation is past being over.” She left the kitchen. “Take your pissy attitude and sleep it off in the guest bedroom.”
“Cody.” His barked command made her spin around.
“You’ve said enough, Remy. Push it any further and I walk out that door for good.”
He stared at her, his mouth drawn into a severe line.
Turning, she left the kitchen. Inside her chest the ache grew into a noticeable throb of pain.
