Bayou Justice

Bayou Justice
Robin Caroll

A body in the bayou. Alligator conservationist Coco LeBlanc knew real fear when she found a body in the clutches of her beloved beasts. Fear turned to horror when she saw that it was one of the Trahan clan–and he'd been shot in the back.Her ex-boyfriend, Luc Trahan, had dumped Coco two years ago when she refused to give up her family's centuries-old voodoo traditions, and he didn't know about her newfound faith. Now, as they and their families become prime suspects in the grisly crime, they'll have to work together to clear their names before the Cajun killer strikes again.

Bayou Justice

Robin Caroll

To Case…

for believing

for supporting

for encouraging

for loving.

Love Always,

RC

CONTENTS

ACKNOWLEDGMENT

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Acknowledgment

A book is a wonderful collaboration of many people. My heartfelt thanks to my editor, Krista Stroever, who used brilliant insight to make this book shine, and to my agent, Kelly Mortimer, who pained over each word with me and used up all her red pens in editing. Thank you both for giving me the chance to attain my heart’s desire and believing in this story.

My eternal gratitude to Colleen Coble. Without you, I wouldn’t have had the endurance and the “p” word to keep on. Your brainstorming, support, love, encouragement, and opening of doors in the publishing world for me kept me on the straight and narrow. I love ya!

I thank my wonderful critique partners for their help—Dineen Miller, Heather Diane Tipton, Ron Estrada, Camy Tang of the Story Sensei, and Ronie Kendig. The book wouldn’t make sense without these “slice and dicers”! Y’all are the absolute best! Thanks to Cheryl Wyatt for walking the journey with me.

Special thanks to my bestest bud, Tracey Aaron, and my sister-in-law, Lisa Burroughs, for reading every single word I write and not being afraid to tell me it’s not working. I love you!

Without the love and support of my family, I wouldn’t even be writing. My love and thanks to my parents, Joyce and Chuck Bridges—for all the times you’ve watched the grands so I could go to writing conferences, and for your encouragement; my sisters and brother, Cindy Pittman, Rebecca Harden, and Charles Burroughs—for commiserating with me and celebrating my successes; Krystina, Brandon, and Rachel—for thinking it’s cool their aunt talks to the voices in her head. I love you all so much and I thank y’all for coming on this ride with me.

A very special thanks to some of the most awesome prayer partners in the world, who have lifted up my writing and my life before the throne so many times. You ladies bless me daily! Big thanks to the members of ACFW, whose support and encouragement is the absolute best!

Finally, my most humble thanks to my daughters—Emily Carol, Remington Case, and Isabella Co-Ceaux—you girls are the reason I get up every morning and write. Each of you inspire me with your love and personality. I love each one of you so much—you are my most precious blessings from God.

All glory to my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.

ONE

Humidity, the South’s great oppressor, seized the Louisiana bayou firmly by the throat. Late afternoon heat washed through the air in waves, turning and mixing to make the region downright sticky. CoCo LeBlanc wiped her brow and squinted, scanning the grassy shores. A living bulk shifted on the lush embankment, then the alligator stretched its mouth, his jagged teeth glistening in the late afternoon sun. Moodoo appeared healthy. CoCo stared, smiling at the twelve-foot reptile. She let out a long sigh. It’d been a rough couple of weeks, nursing the prehistoric beast back from the brink of death. Stupid poachers—would they never learn they couldn’t hunt alligators anytime they got the notion? If she ever caught them…

Moodoo waddled along the banks, then surged his large body into the bayou. CoCo marked his location on her tracking sheet and then fired up the airboat’s engine. She settled into the single seat before turning the steering wheel to head back to the house. Picking up speed, the airboat skimmed over the murky bayou. Drops of water jetted up, spraying CoCo’s face and arms. She leaned closer to the edge of the boat, welcoming the cool mist. July in Lagniappe meant misery, no matter how you chopped it.

She banked the airboat and tied off on the knotty root of a live oak tree that had survived for several centuries. Stepping to the ground, she let the air pockets bubble up around her feet before striding toward the house with sure steps. Her hair was plastered to the nape of her neck, and her thin cotton tank top clung to her back. Too bad her tan lines were so messed up because she couldn’t wear the same style shirt to work every day.