Free Blood on the Bayou: A Cafferty & Quinn Novella by Heather Graham Page A

cuss. It’s Detective Deerfield. Open the damned door.”
    To Quinn’s surprise, the door opened.
    Selena Duarte was white haired and wrinkled to the nines, and she appeared to be older than the earth itself.
    “What the hell you doing out here, bothering an old woman? You know damned well I ain’t guilty of a damned thing. What, you think I could even wield some kind of a weapon hard enough to do in a big man or a woman for that matter? And you think I got good teeth all of a sudden? My dentures barely bite through butter.”
    “Not out here to accuse you of anything, Selena. We came here to find out if you might have seen anything,” Beauchamp told her.
    She pointed at Quinn. “What you doing out here, football-blow-it-all boy? Heard you went military, cop, and then P.I. in New Orleans. You’re a far cry from the city, Quinn. You know nothing about these swamps.”
    “I did grow up in the area, Mrs. Duarte. I’ve been out here often enough,” Quinn said.
    She sniffed. “So they called you in, huh? Thinking that you could catch the rougarou . They’re wrong. The rougarou belongs to the swamp. When the rougarou is hungry, people are going to die. That’s all there is to it. When the rougarou has had his share of killing, then it will all stop. And that’s the way it is. You go work your mumbo-jumbo in the city, young man.” She pointed a long, bony finger at Quinn. “You watch your step. The rougarou knows about you.”
    “Is that a threat, Mrs. Duarte?” Quinn asked. “If so, the rougarou will have to get in line.”
    She sniffed loudly and looked at Dirk Deerfield. “We both know, don’t we, Dirk? They didn’t catch no one last time, and they’re not going to catch anyone this time. The rougarou will do what the rougarou wants.”
    “Just like the honey badger,” Beauchamp murmured.
    Selena turned her sharp gaze on Beauchamp. “That some kind of a joke, boy?”
    “No, ma’am.”
    “Selena,” Deerfield said. “All I want to know is have you seen anything?”
    “Yeah, I seen something. I seen it moving through the thick trees. It’s big. Can’t say as I saw the face clearly, but seems to me I kind of saw it in my eyes. Teeth like you wouldn’t believe. Ugly face, ugly as sin. I heard something in the back, looked out there, and saw it running through the trees. I shut my door and lit a few candles on my altar. I got out my poor dead husband’s shotgun and I sat there with it all night, though I knew if the rougarou wanted me, the shotgun wouldn’t matter none. But, like last time, the rougarou isn’t after an old woman who spent her life working and just wants to be left alone.” Selena looked at Deerfield. “The rougarou is after the innocent and the sinners. None of us in between folk. You mark my words, you’ll find out those people you ain’t identified yet were sinners, or maybe a priest and a nun. Don’t know which. But there will be somethin’ about them.”
    “Selena, which way was the rougarou running?” Quinn asked her.
    “Away from my place, heading for the highway. Maybe he hitchhiked his way into New Orleans. What do you think? Maybe he can fly. Don’t know, don’t care. I intend to keep to myself, like always.”
    “Selena, if you see or hear anything, anything at all,” Deerfield began.
    “What? I’m going to call you? I ain’t got no phone out here, Dirk. No cell phone, no house phone. Maybe I can send up some smoke signals.”
    And she laughed.
    “I’ll be back by,” Deerfield promised.
    “You be careful, Dirk Deerfield. You’re just the kind of man the rougarou may want.”
    “Mrs. Duarte,” Beauchamp said politely, “you really are mean as dirt.”
    “You go on now. All of you. Ain’t nothing here for you. You’re spinning wheels, just spinning wheels. The rougarou will take what it wants, and if you leave it alone, the damned thing will go back to sleep and by the time it comes back again, I’ll be dust and ash in the cemetery. Go on.