Going Home (The Green Bayou Novels Book 1) Read online

  I hold my hand out to Pete, and he kisses the top of it before pulling my index finger into his warm mouth and sucking on it slowly. Desire courses through my veins, and I bite down on my lower lip to keep from gasping.

  As soon as he releases my hand, I step out of my dress and stand before him in a lacy bra and panty set. Propped on his elbows, he smiles and gestures with his finger for me to go to him. Once I’m straddled atop him, his fingers trace the upper swell of my breasts that peek from the snug garment.

  “You are so beautiful, Emily. So very beautiful.” Before I know it, he’s rolls me to where we’ve changed positions. His head tips so his tongue can follow the same path as his fingers, and I throw my head back as the pleasure grows more intense. My breasts are freed from the bra, and I moan when Pete focuses his attention on them.

  We explore each other’s bodies, and Pete was so right to say he’s learned a lot about how to pleasure a woman. I’m left trembling with want by the time Pete climbs on top, and I’m more than ready to accept him. He enters slowly, which I’m thankful for since he’s quite well-endowed, and it’s not until I beg for it that he quickens the pace. We are beaded with sweat by the time we finish, and I collapse onto the bed. Left breathless and lazy, I rest my head on Pete’s shoulder while leisurely tracing the ridges of his torso as he holds me in his arms.

  “That was so much better than the boat shed, wasn’t it?” Pete teases.

  “I have to admit, you’ve learned some pretty wonderful skills since I’ve been away.”

  He gets serious. “I don’t think you realize how much I missed you when we were apart. Why didn’t I just pick up the stupid phone?”

  “I’ve wondered the same about myself since first laying eyes on you again. Regardless of why we drifted apart, we realize it was wrong. I don’t want to be away from you again, Pete.”

  “You won’t have to be, Emily. It’s a mistake I refuse to make again.” I hug him tightly, and give him one last kiss before drifting off to sleep.

  6

  Pete and I see each other often in the several weeks leading to Halloween, and I settle into small town life. Not only are things going well at home, but I’m getting used to the way things work in Bienville at the ambulance station. Surprisingly, I even find myself tolerating Alphonse, but I use the word tolerate very loosely; I still see him as a total liability to the parish.

  Even though the call load is different from the big city, work still manages to stay pretty interesting. When they do come in, the calls tend to be unlike any I’ve seen in the city. I can honestly say that before working in Bienville, I’ve never climbed a tree to assess a patient lodged in his vehicle. Good luck figuring that one out. Jacob and I settle in as partners as well. I enjoy his company, even though Pete isn’t so happy about us working together. He’s convinced Jacob has a thing for me, but I’m not so sure. Jacob is always calm and cool when we’re together. Yep, Jacob is Mr. Smooth. He’ll give me a light bop on the chin when I zing him with a joke. He teases me whenever I do something silly. It’s not like he spends the shift playing grab-ass with me. Pete is probably confusing camaraderie with flirting. Nonetheless, I enjoy our shifts together.

  Jacob and I play Rummy for hours trying to make time go by a little faster. Some days we bring in stacks of movies. Movie marathon days are the best! We’ve made it interesting by categorizing the movies and making a contest out of it. The person who brings in the best or worst movie depending on the contest has to treat the other to something fun. One shift we brought in the sappiest love stories, and the winner got lunch. Another shift it was dark comedies, and the winner won control of the remote for a week. This shift is scariest horror movie which only seems appropriate since it’s Halloween night. The loser will have to treat the winner to a foot massage. I spend a lot of time trash-talking to Jacob about how good my foot rub is going to feel, but he never once takes the bait.

  The daytime portion of our shift goes by pretty quickly. I finally meet Kent Sonnier, a tall, muscular man who can easily pass for a football player. He stops by the station to talk to Jacob about a call they have worked together on because the case is finally going to court. The guys spend a good bit of time reviewing the incident, so I give them privacy and curl up in my bed with a book.

  It’s dusk before Kent leaves, and the surrounding cane fields resonate with the night sounds of crickets, frogs, and cicadas. Jacob and I are three movies into the horror fest, and each movie gets progressively scarier. I don’t usually get too frightened, but the movie we’re watching now is a supernatural horror movie about demonic possession. I watch most of it through my fingers, and once the possessed clown appears, I pad over to join Jacob on the couch. He laughs at me, raising the corner of his blanket so I can slide underneath. As the movie goes on, I scoot closer and closer to Jacob. A woman on the screen contorts in agony, and I’m nearly in his lap. He leans across and tucks the blanket under my thigh.

  “There. Now nothing can sneak up under there and get you. Those evil baby dolls can hide anywhere, you know.” He throws back his head when he lets out a maniacal laugh.

  “I’m so glad you find this amusing,” I snap. “You need to stop it because as it is, I’m not going to sleep tonight. Thank you very much!”

  “That’s okay. I’ll stay up with you if you’re scared.”

  “Aw, you’d do that for me?” I ask, touched by the sentiment.

  “Of course. You can go ahead and give me my foot rub since you’ll be up anyway,” he teases.

  I give him a good shove. “Oh, whatever! You’re an ass,” I retort.

  “So violent.”

  “I’ll show you violent; keep it up.”

  The phone rings, scaring the both of us. Jacob scoops up the receiver and listens intently. He says nothing, just a series of grunts before putting the phone down.

  “We gotta go,” he says, pulling on his boots. “They don’t have many details, but someone screaming like all get out called 911. The deputies are on the other end of the parish working an accident full of teenagers, so we might get to the house before them. Dispatch has advised we need to stay alert,” Jacob says as he slides an ESMR ball cap onto his head.

  Taking a deep breath, I try to ready myself for whatever we might find as we drive off into the night.

  We travel about eight miles to a part of the parish I’m not familiar with. The first five miles are down the main highway, but the next three are down a bumpy dirt road barely visible from the highway. It seems to take forever, but at last we see a rundown trailer situated in a large clearing cut into the thickly wooded area. Other than a dim porch light on the side of the trailer, the surrounding area is completely dark.

  “Have you been here before?” I ask Jacob, my heart beating faster.

  I scan the area. Old cars and piles of junk are eerily illuminated by the faint moonlight streaming through the wispy fog. Ahead of us, our headlights shine on a pen of rambunctious dogs baying into the darkness. The light from one of the trailer windows is temporarily blocked by a large body.

  The trailer door suddenly swings open, and an older overweight man wearing stained denim overalls starts to walk down the rickety steps. I pray it’s just red paint on his clothes. He waves at us and yells something we can’t make out over the barking dogs and the running ambulance. I slowly close my door and walk to the side of the ambulance to grab a small medic bag.

  “Times like this, I really wish we had guns,” I say to Jacob.

  “There is still no ETA on the deputies. Maybe you should stay out here until I find out what’s going on inside,” Jacob suggests.

  “Have you lost your ever-living mind? There’s no way in hell I’m going to stay out here by myself in the middle of nowhere!”

  “It was just a movie, Emily,” Jacob teases, walking towards the trailer.

  My reply is interrupted by the man in the stained overalls.

  “Quick, y’all! My wife! She done fell down! You got to help her!” the man yells
in a heavy Cajun accent.

  “Is she able to talk to you?” I ask while closing the distance to the trailer.

  “Nah. She ain’t talked to me in a while. Not since her leg got broke.”

  “How did she break her leg?” I ask as we reach the steps.

  “I done told you that she fell down!” he fusses. I look to Jacob with a duh expression on my face.

  “Let me go inside first,” Jacob insists. I allow him to assume the lead, so he is first up the rusty rickety steps.

  I gasp as soon as I get a glimpse inside. What the man neglected to tell us is that his wife has fallen down because her legs are no longer attached to her body! I freeze. The bloody ax is propped against a coffee table that is now flush against the couch. In front of the table lies the mutilated body of a middle-aged woman. I want to scream, but no sound comes out, so basically all I’m doing is panting. Jacob tries pushing me out the door, but the man towers behind me. He shoves me further inside, and he edges over to the ax.

  “Fix her!” he demands.

  I feel adrenaline dump into my bloodstream, and involuntary tears well in my eyes. I do my best to remain calm, so I take some slow, deep breaths to help keep my wits about me. There’s no way we can help this woman, but the man keeps screaming, “Do something!”

  Jacob tries again to get me out of the door, but the man refuses to let me leave.

  “Get your ass over here and fix her now, dammit!” he yells, now wielding the ax.

  I look at Jacob and signal with a small nod that he should let it go because I’m not leaving. I put my hands in the air and slowly walk toward the body, my shoes slipping in the massive pool of congealed blood that surrounds the lifeless woman.

  I try to control my trembling and open the medic bag to take out a roll of gauze. I keep my gaze fixed on the ax and slowly bend to start bandaging a severed hand. I want to look as though I’m doing something productive. Jacob digs through the bag slung over his shoulder, constantly keeping his eye on the mental case. I don’t so much as breathe when the sound of boots clanking up the steps gives me hope. I desperately pray it’s Kent or Pete; unfortunately, it’s Alphonse. My heart sinks when I notice the man tightening his grip on the ax handle.

  “Holy shit!” Alphonse exclaims. “Oh man, that’s a lot of blood! I got just what we need for this! Be right back!”

  Just as quickly as he appeared, Alphonse is gone. I roll my eyes upwards to ward off the tears. Figures that Alphonse gets the opportunity to run away while I’m stuck trying to put a human puzzle back together. The psychopath starts pacing back and forth across the living room talking to himself, and I look at Jacob.

  “No fair that he gets to leave,” I whisper as I feel tears stinging my eyes. I swallow them back, and Jacob gives me a half-hearted smile. I continue wrapping dismembered appendages.

  “Hey, you. Look at me. We’re going to be okay. I promise,” Jacob whispers.

  Alphonse barrels back into the trailer with a handful of plastic bags and an ice chest.

  “I keep this here stuff in my cruiser for when I go fishing at the lake when things get slow,” he rambles. He raises the ice chest high in the air as if it’s a trophy. “I saw this on one of them medical shows. Ya see, what we need to do here is wrap these broken parts and pack ‘em in ice. Then the doctor sews them back on lickety split, good as new. You got some ice in the freezer, don’t ya?”

  I look up toward the ceiling and wonder if things can get worse. I so hoped Alphonse was calling for backup. I should’ve known better. He hands Jacob the plastic bags, and Jacob looks from the butchered woman to me to the man with the ax. Oblivious to the impending danger, Alphonse leaves the living room to rummage through the freezer. “Yeah, he’s got ice. Lots of frozen stuff you can use like peas, corn, green beans. Hey, what’s this thing with all the hair?” Another wave of panic ebbs when Alphonse returns with several ice trays and not the mysterious hairy thing from the freezer.

  The man seems to believe Alphonse’s plan might work, so he encourages us to wrap the appendages in plastic.

  “Thanks, Alphonse,” Jacob says, half-heartedly. “Will you see if you have some more bags in your car?” I know he wants to get Alphonse out of the place before he causes more trouble. “Oh, and while you’re out there, do me a favor and look in the back of our unit. This is very important,” Jacob’s tone is extremely somber. “Don’t come back in here without the red disposable blanket. It has to be the red one because there’s blood. We’ll get into big trouble if you bring us any of the other ones, okay?” he asks Alphonse.

  I know the only disposable blankets we have are yellow. Jacob is a genius, and he sure knows how to handle Alphonse.

  “I’m on it, Jacob! I won’t let you down.” Alphonse salutes before darting out of the door and down the steps. We go back to bandaging and packaging what pieces we can when we hear boots trudging up the steps once again.

  “Damn it, Alphonse!” Jacob swears under his breath. Kent enters the door instead, and I let out the closest thing to a sigh of relief that I can muster.

  The ax man grows tired of people coming in and out of his trailer because he makes long strides from the kitchen, steps over the torso of the body, and pulls me up by my hair. I yelp with pain as he drags me to the opposite side of the room. Holding me tightly against his body, ax in hand, he nearly chokes off my air supply with his arm tightened around my neck. Jacob and Kent freeze.

  “Don’t you come any closer!” the man warns. “I swear it won’t take me but a second to snap her neck!” I try not to tremble, but my body defies my order. He loosens his grip on my throat, and I’m able to suck in a shaky breath.

  “It’s okay. You guys stay back.” I try to sound calm, but the man doesn’t want me to talk.

  He drives his point home by increasing the pressure on my throat once again. With his free arm, he swings the ax, hatchet style, toward Jacob and Kent. They hold out their hands and yell, “Whoa!” I pray Alphonse doesn’t come in. I’m convinced that one more interruption or distraction will set this man off, and he’ll surely have no problem killing me.

  Kent begins talking to the man, keeping his hand on the weapon in his holster as he does so. He seems to get through to him.

  “How is she supposed to get your wife to the hospital if you won’t let her help her partner?” Kent asks very calmly.

  The man releases his hold from my neck and whirls me around to look at him. “You gonna be able to get her fixed up?” he asks.

  “If you let me go, I can,” I croak.

  He practically throws me across the trailer. I slide through the blood pool and smack violently against a glass mirror hard enough to shatter it. The solid hit jars me, and I feel blood dripping from cuts on my forehead and arms. Jacob picks me up and quickly carries me out of the door. He slides a bit in the blood, but still manages to get us out of the trailer.

  As we hit the last step, three loud gunshots ring out into the night. I dig my head into Jacob’s chest, and his run slows to a fast walk. When we’re to the back of the ambulance, he orders Alphonse, who is still digging through all of the cabinets for a red blanket, to get out. Alphonse looks a little indignant at first, but when Jacob tells him that Kent needs him because shots have been fired, he races out of the ambulance.

  “I wondered what that sound was. I’m on it!” He’s so frazzled that he stumbles, falling flat on his ass before hopping up and running to the mobile home.

  “Get on the stretcher,” Jacob demands as he stands me in the doorway.

  I don’t dare argue. He snatches some supplies from the cabinet above him before looking me over. Concern shows in his eyes as he cleans and bandages the cut on my forehead.

  “You’re going to need a few stitches in that one,” he announces as he runs gauze over the wound.

  I roll my eyes. “Stitches? Can’t you just butterfly it for me?” I whine.

  “Nope. Stitches.” Next he inspects my neck. “You’re going to have some bruises, but it
looks okay.” I nod. “Let’s see your arms,” he insists. I stretch them out, and he cleans and bandages the cuts on them, too. “These don’t look too bad. You shouldn’t need stitches in them.”

  I smile up at him, but he keeps his head low and refuses to look me in the eye. I sit up on the stretcher and move to face him. He still won’t look at me. Using my finger, I turn his face to force him to look my way.

  “Hey, we’re fine,” I say, softly. “I’m fine. Okay, I’ll be the first to admit I was scared shitless in there, but we’re okay now. Don’t get all weird on me.”

  He turns his face away again. “I should’ve known better. You could have been… I shouldn’t have let you go in there.”

  He can’t seem to complete a thought. “Unless something has changed since the last time I checked, I’m a grown woman capable of making her own decisions. I chose to go into that trailer; you didn’t drag me up those steps. It was a bad situation, and that’s all. End of story. Now drive me to the Band-Aid station they call a hospital so I can get my stitches and head home.”

  He smiles slightly, and I climb off the stretcher to get into the passenger seat of the cab of the ambulance. He keeps his hand on the small of my back while we make our way around to the front of the unit, and he opens the door for me. We make the bumpy ride back to the main highway with no issues, and the further we get from the murder scene, the better I feel. Jacob calls the hospital to let them know he’s bringing me in.

  The one nurse and sole doctor who staff the ER are waiting on the ramp to the emergency room. The doctor is a cranky, elderly man who probably took his oath from Hippocrates himself. The nurse is not much younger. They show us to a little curtained area, and Jacob holds my hand while the doctor slowly stitches the wound on my forehead. He proclaims it good as new and grumbles something about going back to bed. The nurse comes in with an injection of antibiotic.

  “You’ll be free to leave in fifteen minutes,” the nurse says.

  I thank her as she leaves, and Jacob takes a seat on the stool the doctor recently vacated. I roll onto my side to look at him. “You feeling any better yet?” I ask.