Page 15 of Cursed (Decorah Security 2.0, #14)

He walked closer and inspected the plastic bags in her hand. “Too bad whoever left these didn’t drop a set of keys or a wallet.”

The sound of a car in the driveway made them both turn. From the side of the house where they stood, she could see a black and white patrol car rolling to a stop.

As a tall, solidly built man climbed out, Andre cursed under his breath. “Sheriff Marlon Jarvis has thought of an excuse to pay us a call.”

“Old Razorback,” she said, recalling the name Andre had given the lawman.

He laughed. “Don’t let him hear you say that.”

She watched Andre deliberately relax his shoulders, then stiffen again as he looked toward the plastic bag she held. “ Merde .”

“What now?”

“If he sees that and figures it’s significant, he’ll confiscate it.”

“Not to worry.” Morgan took a step to the side, then lowered her arm along her leg, letting the bags slip to the ground behind a gnarled trunk.

“Thank you,” Andre murmured.

“No problem.”

Silently, they started in the direction of the drive.

The sheriff stood on the blacktop, staring toward them.

He looked like a classic example of a small-town lawman, with a blue uniform, high trooper boots and a broad-brimmed hat.

As they drew closer, she saw that his face was broad and ruddy, his features a bit coarse.

Probably he was in his late forties or early fifties.

The extra flesh on his frame and the tense way he stood told her where Andre had gotten the nickname.

“Afternoon,” he said in an even voice. Then, addressing Morgan, he said, “I’m Sheriff Jarvis.”

“Morgan Kirkland,” she supplied without offering her hand.

“Afternoon,” Andre said, using the same noncommittal tone as Jarvis. “To what do we owe this pleasure?” he asked, although they all knew that the encounter wasn’t likely to be enjoyable.

“Just making sure everything is okay.”

“Everything is fine,” Andre clipped out.

Jarvis turned to Morgan. “You stopped in town yesterday afternoon and asked directions to Belle Vista, Miss Kirkland.”

“Mrs.,” she corrected immediately.

He looked surprised.

“My husband was killed on an overseas assignment.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“It was several years ago.” she answered, knowing her loss was a good way to make most people uncomfortable.

She could tell she had succeeded with Old Razorback. But she also knew he wasn’t going away until he was good and ready. He waited a beat before saying, “Your car was towed back to town this morning. The driver said there was evidence of a flash flood on the road.”

“Yes, there was. It was lucky that Mr. Gascon was worried when I didn’t show up on time and came looking for me,” she said, unconsciously drawing closer to him.

“Yes, lucky,” the sheriff repeated as though he was taking her assessment under advisement.

She thought about mentioning the two men who had followed her.

But they would just bring up the issue of the jaguar that had scared them off.

And she sensed that getting into a discussion about the cat would be a bad idea.

Probably, at this point, the less she said to this man, the better.

Still, she couldn’t stop herself from asking, “Did you get a report on my car?”

“No.”

“Something was wrong with the brakes. I was having trouble controlling the vehicle. I thought it strange that it happened not long after I stopped at the service station in town.”

“Are you implying something?” he asked.

“Not at all,” she said evenly.

“Funny thing,” he said. “About that flash flood. Your car was found on the side nearest town. How did you get across?”

She might have asked if he thought she’d flown over the water on a broomstick. Instead, she said, “I was looking for ferns or something to put under my wheels—to get me out of the ditch. So, I was out of the car when the water suddenly swept over the road. Mr. Gascon fished me out.”

The sheriff whistled through his teeth as he eyed Andre. “I guess she was lucky you came along.”

“Um hum,” he answered evenly.

The lawman turned back to her, switching topics abruptly. “I understand you’re going to be working in the library here.”

“I’ve already started. And I should be getting back now,” she said, taking a step away. With anyone else, her tone and body language would have ended the discussion. Apparently, the sheriff wasn’t finished with her.

“Just a minute. I assume Mr. Gascon has told you about the problems we’ve been having around here.”

She felt her stomach knot, but she kept expression bland. “I’m a researcher. I did a lot of reading about the area before agreeing to take the job.”

“And you’re not worried about working out at Belle Vista-—which is an isolated location?”

“Are you trying to get me to quit?” she demanded.

“No. I’m making sure you understand the consequences of living here.”

Beside her, Andre looked like he was going to punch the guy out—a very bad idea when it came to a cop.

She wanted to put a restraining hand on his arm.

But that would imply a level of intimacy that would seem strange to an outsider.

It seemed strange to her, actually. But she focused on the sheriff’s statement as she said, “I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time.

I can take care of myself here. But I do have a question about the area. ”

“Yes.”

“I saw a sign for a voodoo priestess in a house at the edge of town.”

“That would be Miss Sonnier.”

Sonnier. The same name as the woman in the dream.

“She supports herself with her voodoo activities?”

Both Andre and the sheriff looked uncomfortable.

“Why do you ask?” Jarvis drawled.

“If she’s any good, I might want a consultation.”

“I wouldn’t recommend it,” Jarvis shot back.

“Why not?”

“There’s been bad blood between her family and the Gascons for generations. If you’re associated with the estate, she won’t be friendly to you.”

“Well, I appreciate your filling me in on town politics,” she said.

“I wouldn’t exactly call it politics.”

“How would you phrase it?”

“Like I said—bad blood.”

“The Hatfields and the McCoys? Do the Sonniers and the Gascons shoot each other?”

“It hasn’t come to that,” Jarvis muttered. Taking out a business card, he handed it to her. “If you have any problems, give me a call.”

“I certainly will.”

When he climbed in his car and drove away, she and Andre both sighed with relief.

“Nice guy. Has his family been here for generations, too?”

“As a matter of fact—no. He came to St. Germaine when the town was looking to upgrade their police force. He’s well trained, but I guess he bought into the stories he heard about me.”

She nodded, because she had to agree.

“You were good at handling him,” Andre said.

“I’ve had experience with men like him.”

“Which is?”

“Suspicious. Anxious to pin something on you. Guys who get off on being an authority figure so they can throw their weight around.” She sighed. “And men who think they’re better than any woman.”

“A good description.” He looked up and apparently saw that the sun was low in the western sky. “We generally have an early dinner, around six, at this time of year.”

“And then you’re going to disappear and be unavailable, the way you did last night?” she asked, hearing the edge in her voice.