Blood on the Bayou: A Cafferty & Quinn Novella Read Free

ripped.”
    Which grabbed his attention.
    “I want you to talk to them,” Larue said. “I told them that you’re a rougarou expert and that you’ll get to the bottom of things. They were out on some night ghost tour in the bayou and their boat came upon the dead man. Right now, she’s so hysterical that she’s not making sense. But you rougarou experts are used to dealing with that.”
    He shook his head at Larue’s sarcasm. He was no more a rougarou expert than someone was a ghost expert. Once upon a time, he’d worked with Larue as partners in the NYPD. Before that, Quinn’s life had been anything but normal. He’d actually been a pretty horrible person, not as in deadly or criminal, but as in vain and egotistical. His prowess in sports had led to excess, which eventually led to him being declared legally dead.
    Which changed everything.
    While clinically dead, he’d seen a strange personage, who told him it was time to turn around. An angel? Maybe. But the experience had led him to the military, then the police—and then to Angus Cafferty. When Angus died, neglecting to tell his own child, Danni, what he really did on and during many of his buying trips, Quinn had brought her up to speed. It hadn’t been easy. She’d not believed anything he’d said, nor had she much liked him.
    In fact, she’d loathed him.
    He’d never imagined how hard it would be to make herbelieve that all things in life were not what they seemed. But most legends had their roots in truth. She’d both grown up with Angus and wanted to believe that the world was filled with good. She was, however, her father’s daughter. So when she finally came around to realizing what they were sometimes up against, she’d been brilliant.
    And still exquisite.
    Five-feet-nine-inches of willowy perfection, vitality, and intelligence. A mane of sleek auburn hair and the kind of blue eyes that seemed endless and could steal a man’s soul. He always smiled when he thought of their rocky beginning.
    She was both stubborn and opinionated.
    But he couldn’t imagine life without her.
    His smile widened before noticing his friend’s stare. Larue was studying him. When they’d been partners, Larue had known Quinn had something of an extra sense, and Larue wasn’t the kind to fight, deny, or question it. In fact, Larue didn’t want to know what lurked beneath the surface. He just wanted whatever bad was happening to stop. So he tended to bring Quinn in on the unusual stuff, which allowed Quinn to be both a private investigator and have the police on his side.
    “You can help?” Larue asked.
      “How long have we both lived around here?” he asked Larue.
    “Lifetimes.”
    “And have you ever seen a rougarou ?”
    “Look, I’m not you,” Larue said. “I don’t have the gift, or whatever it is. Anyway, the Pearl River guys are working the murder. Two fellows I know fairly well, Hayden Beauchamp and Dirk Deerfield. Good detectives. Beauchamp called me this morning. The tour directors and the guests on the boat were all out of New Orleans. I’ve got a car ready to head out so you can meet with them and see the murder site, if you think you can help.”
    He pointed at his old friend. “Say what you will, but we’ve heard the legends for years on a rougarou.”
    “I get it. That’s why you’re going to need to be on this,” Larue softly said. “Did you hear what I said? Head bashed in, throat ripped out. That’s only happened once before that I know about, and, of course, you know about it too.”
    Quinn winced and nodded.
    He didn’t believe that a rougarou had wandered into the French Quarter to jump around the guests’ windows. But he did remember the murders that had taken place out at Honey Swamp when they’d been kids.
    “There’s more,” Larue said.
    He waited.
    Larue pointed to the two women in his office. “There were drops of blood on the balcony where they’re staying. So far, we know it’s human and that’s about it.