Baton Rouge Bingo

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containers and empty water bottles. The front seat was just as bad, and the dashboard was covered in dust. The front windows were open a slight bit, and I caught a whiff of a musty smell from inside. The Chevrolet had been sitting there for a long time, I was willing to bet. The windshield was spiderwebbed with cracks, and the shocks on the left side were shot—it was listing a bit. “This car’s been here a while,” I said. “I don’t think it’s been driven in a really long time.”
    “Someone’s been here, though,” Mom insisted, pointing down into the dirt. “See those tire marks?”
    I looked where she was pointing and had to admit she was right. There was also an oil spot in the dirt. “Maybe we should call the parish police…” My voice trailed off as Mom walked up to the cabin and climbed the sagging wooden steps to the porch. She opened the screen door and let out a bloodcurdling scream.
    My heart pounding, I ran up to see what was wrong.
    A woman’s body was lying facedown on the porch, a dried puddle of blood spread out beneath her head. Flies were buzzing around, and I gagged a bit from the smell.
    “It’s Veronica!” Mom gasped the words out, and her right hand clutched my arm.
    Crazily, I realized the chances of making it to Frank’s match just got slimmer.

Chapter Four
The Moon
Unforeseen perils
     
    It was after two in the morning when Mom and I finally got back to Baton Rouge.
    Frank was waiting up for us in the living room, watching Double Indemnity on TMC, when I unlocked the door and we walked in. He immediately muted the television and jumped to his feet. He was wearing a tight white tank top over black sweatpants with the word SAINTS written up the side of one leg in gold lettering. The depth of his worry was written all over his face. “Are you both all right?” he asked.
    I’ve never loved him more than I did in that moment.
    The drive back had been worse than a nightmare. Mom was far too upset to be trusted to drive, so there was no choice—I had to do it, and I am a white-knuckle driver under the best of circumstances. Fortunately, at that hour there wasn’t much traffic for me to deal with, other than speeding eighteen-wheelers trying to run me off the road. But I was so physically and mentally fatigued that it took what little energy I had left to stay focused on driving. I’d drunk so much awful sheriff’s office coffee that falling asleep wasn’t a concern. I’d called Storm to tell him what was going on when it became clear we weren’t getting out of the Tangipahoa sheriff’s office to get to Maravich Center on time for Frank’s match. All I could do was hope Frank wouldn’t notice we weren’t out in the audience and wonder where we were until it was all over.
    The last thing I wanted was to distract him before his big match, which was why I called Storm instead. Of course, Storm had wanted to jump in his car and rush over to Rouen to rescue us, but I’d told him not to bother. We hadn’t done anything wrong, so I figured we didn’t need a lawyer present.
    I sagged in relief as Frank gave me a big hug and squeezed me until I could barely breathe. I’d been so terrified he’d be mad at me, and he had every right to be mad. I pressed my face against his strong chest and listened to his heartbeat for a moment. I could have stayed there forever—it felt so nice and comforting there in his arms—but he let go of me after kissing the top of my head and gave Mom a big hug. As he hugged her, he said, “Mom, you look like you could use a drink. What can I get you?”
    “Bourbon. No water, just ice,” she said, her voice still shaky. He helped her over to the couch and she sank down onto it with a heavy sigh.
    I bit my lower lip. I was more than a little worried about her, to be honest. Usually, nothing brings out the fire in her soul more than dealing with the police. I’d never seen her like this before—so drained and lifeless, with no spirit or fire in her

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