Too terrified to think about what might wait for her beyond the door, she seized the knob and twisted, then threw her shoulder against it. When that didn’t work, she tried to kick it open, but the lock held and she turned to frantically scan her surroundings as she stood shivering at the top of the steps.
She was trapped.
The only other way out was the window, and even if she could wade through the water without getting bit, the opening was too high for her to reach.
Her gaze lit on the body at the bottom of the steps. She needed to search through Thibodaux’s pockets, see if she could find something with which she could jimmy the door.
But that meant going back into the water.
That meant wading through all those sinewy bodies.
Slowly, she went down the stairs, put one foot into the foul-smelling water and then the other, telling herself the snakes were as afraid of her as she was them. Not moccasins, though. They were very territorial. How many times had she heard stories of how they would turn and come at you if they felt threatened?
She first checked for his weapon, but he wasn’t wearing a holster. Made sense, since he wasn’t in uniform. Evangeline searched through the pocket nearest her, then reached across his body and slipped her hand into the water. Something cold touched her wrist and she waited a beat, then slid her hand in farther.
Nothing.
Fighting off another wave of terror and frustration, Evangeline started to turn back to the stairs. Then a memory came floating up through that black fog of fear. What was it Thibodaux had told her that first day in his office when she’d noticed the ankle holster on his desk?
Carefully, easing herself through the water, she reached under his pant leg, terrified that a snake might come slithering out. Instead, she felt the soft nylon of his holster, and a moment later, she had the small .38 special in her hand.
Eyeing the water around her, she turned and sprinted toward the steps. At the top, she stood back from the door and fired three shots into the lock, splintering the wood enough so that she could kick open the door. It took her several tries, but finally she was through.
Gripping the gun, she walked through the cabin and out the front door. The sheriff’s SUV and her car had been brought here from the Lemay house.
Evangeline ran down the steps and checked inside each vehicle, praying the keys would be inside.
They weren’t.
Helplessly, she surveyed her surroundings. There was nothing but woods and swamp all around her. She had no idea where she was, and for a moment, succumbed to the panic and terror clawing at her lungs. Where was she? Where was J.D.?
She couldn’t bear to think about what might have already happened. What she had let happen.
But it was important not to dwell on that. She had to blot out the images racing through her head. Her baby at the mercy of a madwoman…
A path at the edge of the yard led back into the woods. Into a trap for all Evangeline knew, but what other choice did she have?
As she hurried through the trees, mosquitoes swarmed her face and nettles tore at her skin. By the time the path ended, the flesh on her arms was raw and bleeding and she was hopelessly lost.
She bent down, hands on knees, gulping air as her breath came in sobs.
Then, through the maddening drone of the mosquitoes came the distant tinkle of a wind chime.
She’d heard it the day before through the broken upstairs window of the Lemay house.
She was close.
No more than a hundred yards away, if that.
All she had to do was follow the sound.
Ten minutes later, she was back in the clearing. Another two minutes had her crossing the yard toward the house.
A woman opened the screen door and came out on the porch to meet her. It was the same woman she’d seen in J.D.’s nursery. Rebecca Lemay.
She was dressed much the way she had been that night—long skirt, tennis shoes and shapeless sweater, which she pulled tightly around her even though the day was scorching hot.
Evangeline lifted the gun. “Where is he? Where’s my baby?”
“You don’t need to worry. He’s safe now.”
Evangeline’s heart dropped to her stomach as terror clawed at her heart. She started to run. “Where is he?” she screamed. Her finger pressed against the trigger. The rage that mushroomed inside her was hard to control. “Tell me where he is or I swear to God, I’ll kill you.”
“Evangeline, no!”
Lena Saunders—Ruth—was suddenly running across the yard toward her. Evangeline had no idea where she’d been hiding. She came forward now with her arms outstretched. “Please don’t hurt her.”
“I don’t want to hurt anyone.” Evangeline kept the gun leveled on Rebecca. “I just want my baby back. Tell me where he is.”
“I told you,” Rebecca said. “He’s safe.”
“Where is he, damn you!”
“Evangeline…” Lena came slowly toward her. “Please…just put the gun down before someone gets hurt.”
“She took him,” Rebecca said, pointing down the steps toward her sister.
Evangeline swung the gun toward Lena. “Stop right there. I’ll kill you both if I have to.”
Lena’s blue eyes widened in alarm. “Evangeline, listen to me. Rebecca’s sick. She needs help.” She turned to her sister. “Please, just tell us where you put the baby.”
Rebecca took a step back. “No.”
“We just want to help you,” Lena said.
“You’ll send me away again.”
“I never sent you away. It wasn’t my fault what happened. It wasn’t your fault, either. You didn’t know any better. You just wanted to help Mama, didn’t you?”
“You were her helper,” Rebecca said. “You were her favorite.”
“I was the oldest. She depended on me. You can depend on me, too. I’ll get you help. Whatever you need. All you have to do is tell me what you did with the baby.”
At that moment, Evangeline heard J.D.’s cry. It was coming from somewhere inside the house.
She and Lena moved at the same time. Before she reached the steps, something hit her hard between her shoulder blades. The force of the blow catapulted her forward and she fell with a hard thud to the ground. The gun flew from her hand as she lay dazed and shocked in the dirt. With an effort, she lifted her head and glanced behind her, saw the man with the scarred face standing over her. He had a club in one hand and a burlap sack in the other.
“I’ve got her,” he said and laughed.
Evangeline lunged for the gun, grabbed it, but he was just as quick. Straddling her, he rolled her over and tried to pin her left arm to her side while he grappled for the gun in her right hand.
A shot went wild and she heard one of the sisters scream. She couldn’t worry about that now, though.
She had to get free. She had to find J.D. No matter what, she had to find her son and save him from these lunatics.
She fought viciously. With her free hand, she raked her nails across the tender skin of his scar. She clawed at his eyes, dug her knee into his groin. Nothing seemed to faze him.
One hand was at her throat, squeezing, squeezing while his other hand pried loose the gun in her hand. He flung it aside and then, his fingers tightening around her neck, he reached for the burlap bag.
As he upended it, a black, ropey body tumbled to the ground. As quick as lightning, his hand flicked out and
