Passion In The First Degree Page 21

  “Good God, Olivia, what have you done?” Roger asked.

  Tears began to stream down her face and she looked at Big John pleadingly. “I did it for you. I thought…I needed to protect you. I love you, Daddy.” A deputy moved next to her, ready to grab her should she attempt to run.

  The laughter that had been on Big John’s features transformed into revulsion. As Shelby watched, her father grew old. Confusion tugged his features downward and his eyes became haunted. Michael gripped the crucifix around his neck and prayed beneath his breath.

  “He’s not man enough to do what I’ve done,” Celia boasted, and now the madness was full in her eyes, a shining wildness that sent a shiver up Shelby’s spine. “That woman was evil, she had to be disposed of before she stole all that belonged to me.”

  “You killed Marguerite?” Big John asked.

  “And all the rest of them,” Celia replied, pride ringing in her voice.

  “Mrs. Longsford, perhaps you’d better contact your lawyer before you say anything more,” Bob said.

  “I don’t want a lawyer. I know what I did and I want everyone to know.” Her eyes gleamed and she tossed her head like a coquettish young woman. “They tell stories about me, bedtime tales about the swamp serpent who eats people for dinner.”

  Shelby felt as if it was all a dream. She listened numbly as her mother spoke candidly of the murders, explaining that Layne Rocharee had been the first, a test to make certain she was capable of stabbing a person to death. He’d been a practice run for Marguerite. “Every time you moaned her name in your sleep, I killed another piece of swamp scum,” she told her husband. “And it didn’t take long for me to realize I liked the feeling it gave me.” She gestured around. “Here I’ve always been nothing, a shadow of you. But in the swamp I was something. I was powerful.”

  “But Mama, why tonight? Why Billy?” Shelby asked.

  Celia looked at her, eyes cold and distant. “I overheard you talking to Billy, knew they were picking up Michael tonight. I couldn’t let Michael go to jail, so I knew there had to be another swamp serpent murder tonight.”

  “But why Billy?” This time it was Michael who asked the question.

  Celia smiled, the cunning smile of insanity. “If Billy died I knew Shelby would leave.” She looked at Shelby. “You couldn’t leave it alone. You kept picking and prodding to find the killer. I made you forget once. I figured I could make you forget again.”

  Minutes later Olivia and Celia, handcuffed, were placed in two patrol cars. Doc Cashwell arrived and took off with Angelique, insisting the wound required more treatment than he could give on the spot. As the cars drove off, Shelby turned to her brother and stumbled into his embrace.

  The tears she’d stifled from the moment her full memory returned now fell. She cried for the child she had been, betrayed by a mother obsessed and crazed. She sobbed for the victims, innocent people who had fallen to her mother’s madness.

  “I’m sorry, Michael.” She finally stepped away from him. “I…I was afraid it was you. I told Bob I thought it was you.”

  “Shh, that doesn’t matter now. Thank God I had solid alibis for several of the murders.” Michael touched her cheek. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m not sure. I think it will be a very long time before I’m really okay.” She leaned against him. “Oh, Michael, I can’t understand any of this.”

  “Everyone said it was a crime of passion. And it was, the passionate hatred of one woman, and the passionate distorted love of another.”

  Shelby turned, seeking Billy. She caught sight of him running across the lawn, and in an instant he disappeared into the darkness of the swamp. Her mother had killed his friends and neighbors. Her sister had murdered his best friend and wife. No wonder he had run. The Longsfords had destroyed too much of what had been important to him. Surely he hated them…hated them all. Not for the first time in her life, Shelby was sorry she’d been born a Longsford. She knew Billy was out of her life for good. Now all she had to figure out was how to pick up the shattered pieces of her life.

  “ANGELIQUE?” Shelby pushed open the hospital room door and peered in.

  “Come in.” Angelique gestured her inside, looking as regal, as proud as a queen even though she lay in the hospital bed, her side and shoulder bandaged.

  “I…I brought you some flowers.” Shelby set the arrangement on the table, then remained awkwardly standing. “I don’t know what to say, how to tell you how sorry I am. I know they’re nothing but words, and there’s no way they can ease your pain.”

  Angelique pointed her to the chair next to the bed. Her eyes, so dark and mysterious, stared intently into Shelby’s. “You owe me no apologies.”

  “Yes, but my mother—“

  “Exactly.” Angelique cut her off. “Your mother. Not you.”

  Shelby sank into the chair, grateful for her words of absolution, yet discomforted by the woman’s probing gaze. “How are you? They told me your lung was punctured.”

  “Bah, I’m a fast healer. I’ll be out of here in a day or two. And you…are you a fast healer?”

  Shelby smiled. “I’m not sure. Time will tell.”

  Angelique raised herself against the pillows, wincing slightly, then refocused her gaze on Shelby. “I sent the dead flowers to you.”

  “Why?”

  Her gaze shifted to the window. “Since Remy’s death, my life has been empty. Billy’s friendship filled a space for me, and for a while I thought that friendship might become something more.” She sighed. “You frightened me. Whenever Billy spoke your name, I heard something in his voice that I’d never heard before.” She turned and looked back at Shelby. “I sent them to scare you, to make you go away and leave Billy alone. But it didn’t work, did it? You love him.”

  “No.” Shelby felt the blood rush to her face. “I…it doesn’t matter what I feel for Billy. There can never be anything between us.”

  Angelique smiled. “Ah, you sound like a woman who thinks she can control such things. What you feel for Billy is far stronger than anything you can control. You don’t throw away emotions so great.”

  “Perhaps not, but if you leave them alone long enough, eventually they go away,” Shelby replied softly.

  Again Angelique smiled. “Ah, were it all that easy.”

  As Shelby drove home minutes later, she thought of Angelique’s words. She knew it would not be easy, knew that forgetting Billy would be one of the most difficult things she’d ever faced. She cursed herself now for her weakness, for allowing herself to get involved with him in any way other than a strictly professional one. She’d been a fool, and now she would pay a fool’s price, extracted through sensual dreams, hollow yearning and heartbreak.

  She hadn’t seen Billy since two nights before, when Bob had taken her mother and her sister away and she had seen him fleeing back into the swamp.

  She’d spent the morning with Abe, who had agreed to drop the charges against Billy. Shelby knew she needed to see Billy one last time, to tie up loose ends concerning his case.

  As she pulled up to the mansion, she saw her father sitting on the rocker on the front porch. In the past two days she’d watched her father grapple with all that had happened. The events had humbled him, caused him to retreat into the shell of an old man. Gone was his bluster, his zest for life, as if the tragedy had sucked it all out of him.

  She got out of the car and walked to the chair next to him. Easing down, she fought the impulse to take his hand, knowing he had always loathed signs of weakness in himself or in others.

  “I loved her, Shelby.” His chair rocked to and fro in a slow rhythm.

  “I know.”

  “She took me by surprise. My life was settled, then she appeared, full of life and laughter.”

  It was at that moment Shelby realized her father wasn’t talking about Celia, but rather Marguerite Boujoulais. She didn’t answer, slightly uncomfortable but knowing he felt the need to talk, to somehow explain.

  “I have
to admit, your mother was right. I wanted to leave her and marry Marguerite, but I couldn’t. I was afraid.” He frowned and stopped the rocking motion. “I was a fool. I cared too much what people would say, a Longsford taking up with a swamp girl. I knew I should break it off with Marguerite, but I couldn’t do that, either. And so I snuck around like some lovesick schoolboy.”

  “Dad, nothing you did justifies what Mama and Olivia did,” Shelby said.

  “I know that, but I’ve never been one to shirk my responsibility and I have to accept partial blame for this mess.”

  This time Shelby didn’t fight her impulse. She reached over and took her father’s hand in hers, fully expecting him to pull away, but needing to make the gesture nevertheless. To her surprise, he didn’t pull away but rather folded his fingers to tighten their grip around her hand. “I’ve never been much of a father to you, Shelby. But you’ve thrived despite my mistakes. That speaks well of you, your strength.”

  The crimes of her mother and sister had left holes in Shelby’s heart, but as she sat there holding her father’s hand, she realized they stood on the threshold of a new, different relationship. One that would be healthy and good for them both.

  They sat there for a long time, not speaking, having no need for words. Finally it was her father who broke the silence. “So, what are your plans? You heading back to Shreveport?”

  Shelby shook her head. “No. I’m going to close my law office there and move it here. I figure there are lots of people in the swamp who can’t afford adequate counsel for charges leveled against them. It’s time they had an advocate besides Billy.” Besides, she refused to let her mother win, to once again leave her home because of the actions of others.

  Big John nodded and eyed her knowingly. “Don’t make the same mistake I did, Shelby. Don’t be afraid to follow your heart. If it takes you into the swamp, then so be it.”

  “But sometimes in following your heart there are just too many obstacles to get around to reach the end of the journey,” she replied.

  His hand squeezed hers once again and they went back to watching the sun set over the swamp.

  SHELBY WALKED through the woods, the morning sun her companion as she made her way toward Billy’s shanty. She’d put off this final visit as long as possible, but knew she needed to see him once more. This time there would be closure so she could move on with her life.

  The swamp was different this morning, filled with the sound of life. Birds sang in the trees and creatures scurried amid the brush and foliage. Fish jumped and slapped the surface of the ponds as if joyously celebrating the end of the reign of the serpent.

  As she walked, visions of those nights in Billy’s arms haunted her, just as she knew the faces of the victims would haunt her, as well. It would take her a long time to be able to forget those faces and she hadn’t even personally known them. For Billy, she was certain it would take an eternity for him to forget.

  Walking across the bridge, she heard the sound of laughter emanating from the shanty. She wasn’t sure who was there, but Billy’s laughter was as familiar to her as her own heartbeat. Low and seductive, it beckoned her closer, yet made her want to run.

  It was at that moment she realized Angelique had been right. She was hopelessly, helplessly in love with Billy Royce. The knowledge filled her with incredible joy and blistering rage. Damn him for making her love him. It was not supposed to have happened. She had been so confident that she could work as his legal counsel, verbally spar with his wit, make love to him and still not fall beneath the seductive spell he’d wrapped around her years before.

  She’d been wrong. Billy was in her blood, seared into her heart, and she knew time would heal the wounds, but the scars would be there forever.

  Billy answered her knock, the smile on his face instantly fading as he saw her. “Shelby,” he said in surprise. “Come in.”

  She stepped inside to see Gator seated at the table, a can of grape soda in his hand. Parker sat on the floor nearby, a hand-held video game absorbing his total concentration.

  “Ah, just the person I wanted to talk to,” Gator said as he waved for her to sit down in the chair next to him.

  “Me?” Shelby asked in surprise.

  Gator nodded. “I want to know if you’ll represent me if I get arrested for letting one of my dogs bite one of those infernal tax men.”

  Shelby bit the side of her cheek to stifle a smile. “Why don’t you come see me in the next day or two and we’ll see if we can’t find somebody to handle your tax problem before you have to let your dog bite anyone.”

  Gator grunted, obviously satisfied by her answer. He swigged the last of his soda, then crushed the can with his good hand. He looked from Shelby to Billy, then stood. “Come on, Parker, let’s you and me go for a little walk, let your daddy and the lawyer lady talk private-like.”

  All too soon Shelby found herself alone with Billy, his expression as always inscrutable. “I came to tell you I’ve spoken with Abe and all the charges against you have been dropped.”

  “From what you said to Gator, it sounds like you intend to stay here in Black Bayou,” he observed.

  “I’ve told you all along I’m here to stay. This is my home.” She paused a moment, the silence heavy between them. “I heard that you spoke to Jonathon and Laura LaJune about Sissy.”

  He nodded. “I figured if Jonathon fought Sissy for custody of the baby, I’d finance a lawyer for her.”

  “From what I’ve heard that won’t be necessary. Laura has taken Sissy under her wing, and I imagine when the time comes Jonathon will be handing out cigars.” Again the silence grew. “It was Angelique who sent me the flowers. She took the stationery from Michael’s place. She was hoping I’d be scared out of Black Bayou. We spoke and I think we will be friends.” She frowned and sighed. “If only things were as easily fixed with Olivia.”

  “She loved your father very much,” Billy said.

  “Too much. She lived her life trying to get something from him he couldn’t give her. She married Roger to make him happy, worked in politics to gain his respect. And finally she committed the ultimate crime to protect him, and he didn’t even need protection.” Shelby shook her head softly. “I imagine she’ll have a lot of time to think about what she’s done.”

  She stood and moved toward the door. There was nothing left to say, no unfinished business left between them. It was time to leave and put Billy firmly in her past.

  She held out her hand, intending to end things on a professional note. “Then I guess that’s it.”

  Billy took her hand in his, the sexy, seductive smile on his face making her wish she hadn’t initiated the simple tactile pleasure she found in his handshake.

  She started to pull her hand away, but he held it fast and instead drew her closer, into the heat of his body, against the hard strength of his chest. With one hand he stroked the side of her cheek. That simple touch was her undoing.

  “Damn it, Billy, don’t touch me.” She started to step away from him but he held her fast.

  “Why not?” he asked, his breath warm on her neck. “I like touching you. I like kissing you, and I think if you’re honest you’ll admit that you like it, too.”

  “I do like it,” she agreed, tears suddenly burning her eyes as she managed to break away from him. “That’s the whole problem. I like it too much. And it isn’t just your touch that I like.” Like a crumbling dam, once the emotions began to seep, they swelled to flooding stage. “I like the way your lips curve when you smile. I admire how you care for Parker and your passion for the swamp. I love how I feel when I’m with you, strong yet protected, safe yet adventurous—” She broke off with a sob of frustration. “Damn you, Billy, I hate you. I really hate you.”

  He smiled, the sexy, seductive smile that twisted her heart. “How you do sweet-talk a man, Shelby.” The smile faded and his dark eyes seemed to absorb her, so intent was his gaze. “If I didn’t know better, that would sound like you love me.”

  S
he closed her eyes, not wanting to admit it, remembering she had sworn to herself long ago she would never feel that way about him again. She looked at him once more. “I said those words to you once a long time ago, and you threw them back in my face. I won’t say them again. Besides, it really doesn’t matter what I feel.” She closed her eyes once again. “I know you can never forgive my mother and sister. How you must hate all of us.”

  “Oh, Shelby, if only it was that easy.” He placed his hands on her shoulders and she couldn’t help but look at him. “I think I fell in love with you years ago when I found you crying in the middle of the swamp and without saying a word you placed your hand in mine.” He smiled at the memory. “Of course, we were just kids then. Then on the night of Mama Royce’s death, when you told me you loved me, I was afraid to believe you. To me you were still little more than a kid. What in the hell could you know about love?” His thumbs moved in caressing circles on her shoulders.

  “But Billy, my mother—”

  “Shh.” He stilled her protest with his lips against hers, kissing her with a tender passion that whispered of love. “As far as I’m concerned, you’re as much a part of the swamp as I am. And the mother who raised you and made you the woman I love was Mama Royce. You were born a Longsford, but I’m hoping you’ll live the rest of your life as a Royce.”

  Shelby held her breath, wondering if her ears deceived her, if what she saw shining in his eyes was a joke. “Is this a marriage proposal?”

  He nodded solemnly. “I love you, Shelby, but I’m warning you. It won’t be easy. We’re bucking tradition here, swamp marrying town.”

  She stared up at him. In his eyes were the dark mysteries of the swamp, but in his heart was the goodness of Mama Royce. She could almost hear Mama Royce’s sigh of contentment riding in the air. Town and swamp. What difference did it make? Shelby belonged here. She knew it with a clarity she’d never felt before. She belonged here amid the buzzing mosquitoes and the sweet memories and Billy.