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

haven’t found any unknown cars parked in the area.”
    “The car could be down in Honey Swamp somewhere,” Quinn said, pointing to the road. “Easy enough for someone to escape that way. The young women this morning reported that something was moving through the trees. The killer, I’d say. So he went back to the road, jumped in a car, and drove away.”
    “Unless it was a rougarou ,” Beauchamp suggested, shrugging. “In which case, it’s still hiding out there in the woods. Waiting.”
    Or it ran back to New Orleans to watch young women in their hotel rooms, Quinn thought.
    “I have to apologize,” Deerfield said. “Hayden has really studied the old case.”
    “It’s kind of like Jack the Ripper. You can’t help coming up with theories. And a lot of the locals do believe in the rougarou ,” Beauchamp said.
    Deerfield shook his head. “I don’t believe in the rougarou or in witches, good or bad. I do believe that there was a killer before who was clever. And now we have a new one. Anyway, we’re glad for your help. We don’t want to fail again. Ready to head back in?”
    Quinn nodded and climbed back in the boat.
    They drifted away from the shoreline and the engine roared to life.
    “Stop,” Quinn shouted.
    “What?” Larue demanded, startled. “Quinn—”
    “You see something?” Deerfield asked, perplexed. “We looked all over last night and into the morning. They didn’t find—”
    “Over there. Bring the boat closer to shore again.” Quinn pointed. “There.”
    The others stared for a moment and he understood why. He wasn’t sure how he’d seen the body floating himself. The victim’s hair was as dark as the water beneath the shade of the trees, her clothing a mottled green.
    “Oh, no,” Beauchamp breathed.
    “Another victim,” Larue said, reaching over the hull of the police cruiser and turning the body.
    The left portion of her head and face were obliterated, her throat slashed to the bone.
    “Oh, my God,” Beauchamp whispered.
     
    * * * *
     
    Danni and David reached the tour company’s booking office on Chartres Street. David introduced their reservationist, a grave young woman with beautiful golden mahogany skin, big hazel eyes, and dark hair. Her name was Sandy Richardson. She attempted a smile for Danni.
    “I can guarantee you that whatever tour you take with us, you’ll be informed and entertained. We’re truly one of the best companies you’ll ever find.”
    “Danni is an old friend, Sandy,” David said.
    “Oh,” Sandy said. “In that case, I should tell you that people are furious. They don’t want you canceling the bayou night tour. One guy told me that he’d be out there with his shotgun, and no rougarou or swamp thing or any other creature would get his hands on anyone.”
    “Unfortunately, this kind of thing draws all the weekend warriors out,” David said wearily. “Did you say that we were closing the tour only temporarily?”
    “I did. Your weekend warrior wants to head out with a boat anyway,” Sandy said.
    “Best of luck to him,” David murmured. “Is Julian back in the office?”
    She followed David down a narrow hallway to a half open door. Julian Henri, a slim young man with a shock of dark hair and serious eyes, was seated at a desk, shoulders slumped as he stared at his computer.
    He looked up as they entered the room, his eyes flickering with recognition. “Danni Cafferty? You look great. How are you?”
    She smiled. “Good. Thanks, Julian. Glad to see you. Sorry about the circumstances.”
    “Yeah, thanks.” Then he frowned, looking at David. “Oh, no. You went to Danni’s because of the rumors when we were young? That her father collected things that were haunted or evil. Danni, I’m so sorry.”
    “No problem, Julian, really,” she said. “I’m not sure what we can do, but—”
    “Yeah, that’s right. I’ve heard. You’re with Michael Quinn.”
    “You know Quinn?” Danni asked.
    “I know of him,” Julian said.