Free Bayou Corruption by Robin Caroll

and Savior had asked of him? Jackson dropped to his knees in the middle of Bubba’s living room and lowered his head.
    â€œFather God, I ask for wisdom in what You’ve called me to do. I’m not sure if I’m just nosy by nature. Have I been putting on airs and acting self-righteous when I have no right to?” His voice cracked as emotion clogged his throat. “Lord, I pray that right now, right this second, You cleanse my heart of any iniquities and impure motives. Let my life honor You. In Jesus’s precious name, Amen.”
    He had no idea how long he sat on the worn carpet, but he refused to move from his prone position until peace enveloped him. When serenity finally came, he felt the answer he sought. He typed a reply to his friend’s e-mail.
    Â 
    THANKS FOR THE INFO. MIGHT NEED YOU TO SPEAK UP FOR ME WITH THOSE TWO AGENTS.
    DESTROY THE INFO ON ALYSSA LEBLANC. DETAILS NOT NEEDED.
    Â 
    He jammed the BlackBerry into his back pocket and headed to the door. Time to go to work. He should get his chance to get into the office tonight. Getting closer to the truth fed his excitement as he drove to the port.
    Night enveloped the docks. Water spray layered the wooden and concrete ports in slick mist. The crew of thirteen men loaded flats into cargos. Their off-color jokes and rowdy laughter crowded the air. Frank Thibodeaux, the man Bubba had set him up with to help him get temporary work, motioned him toward the office. Apparently, he’d passed Burl’s “tryout” and would be put on payroll.
    He slumped in the chair as he filled out the forms. His social security number would expose him. Jackson passed the forms across the desk to Frank. If he calculated correctly, the filing of his social security for taxes would come back within two weeks, and the jig would be up. He’d have to get the information he needed before then.
    Frank slipped all the forms into a plain folder. “We’ll leave it here for Brenda to enter when she comes in the morning.” He stood and pulled on work gloves. “We’d better head on out before Burl wonders what’s keeping us.”
    Jackson moved toward the hall. “Gotta use the facilities first.”
    Frank tossed him a concerned look, one that said he knew what Jackson was going to do, and opened the office door. “Hurry it up. I’ll let Burl know we got you all squared away.”
    Once the man had trekked down the gangplank, Jackson yanked open the middle drawer of the metal filing cabinet. While he’d filled out his paperwork, he’d read the drawers’ notations. The middle drawer held all the bills of lading.
    He flipped through the folders, silently thanking the woman he’d never seen who did the office work. She filed the bills in numerical order. He pulled the three numbers matching the bags of money, and slipped them into the copy machine. Jackson glanced out the window. No one approached the gangplank. He let out a short sigh of relief.
    Grabbing the copies and shoving them into his jacket pocket, Jackson quickly refiled the bills and closed the drawer. Movement out the window caught his attention.
    Burl.
    Coming up the gangplank.
    Jackson glanced down. The copies couldn’t be hidden well enough in his jacket to stand up to his boss’s scrutiny.
    He shoved the copies under the edge of a drawer and ran to the bathroom, barely having time to shut the door before he heard the squeak of the office’s entrance opening. He flushed the toilet, turned on the faucet and ran his hands under the cold water.
    â€œYou sick?” Burl asked when Jackson stepped into the hall.
    â€œI’m fine.”
    Burl grunted. “Then get to work. Lots of shipments coming in tonight.”
    â€œYes, sir.” He’d have to wait until later to retrieve the copied bills of lading.

SIX
    C ould life, for once, be so easy?
    The morning sun teased around the edges of the kitchen curtains. Alyssa