Blown Away. Sharon Sala

else. By the time I would have gotten to the authorities, it would be my word against his, and I’ve got a big hole in my head. He’d just claim my story was nothing more than a hallucination from the injury. His parents are dead, but he comes from an old and prominent family. Mine has been around almost as long, but it would just be my word against his. I didn’t recognize the dead man, which means he wasn’t a local, which means no missing person case to back up my claim. In fact, given our history, Lance could laugh it off and lay it all on our past.”

      “How so?” Mike asked.

      “A couple of years ago we were engaged, until I caught him cheating on me. I called it off. He could claim I was just trying to get back at him for what he did to me.”

      “Oh.”

      Cari grimaced. “‘Oh’ is right. But it wasn’t until after the tornado when I found Susan that…this occurred to me. No one in Bordelaise knew she’d driven down for the night. And her car was the only one that hadn’t been damaged in the tornado. Her face was…” Cari bit her lip, struggling with her composure. “We’re the same size. Same color hair and hairstyle. And we’d both been wearing white T-shirts and jeans. Lance had seen me earlier, so when I put my coat on her body, I did it hoping she’d be identified as me. It might have been the wrong thing to do, but I was hurt and needed time to think. Lance had already killed once. He would have no problem getting rid of the only witness to his crime.”

      “What a mess,” Mike muttered.

      “You have no idea,” Cari said, then closed her eyes. She didn’t intend to keep them closed, but a combination of meds and exhaustion soon pulled her under.

      Mike watched Carolina drifting in and out of consciousness, and was surprised by the strong connection he felt. Maybe it was because she looked so much like Susan. And maybe it was because of the courage and ingenuity she’d shown in such a dangerous situation.

      Courage was something he admired.

      Over the years, Michael Boudreaux had become a force to be reckoned with in business, but in his youth, he’d been just another kid on the streets of Baton Rouge. His grandparents had still been alive, clinging to former glory in their old plantation house outside of the city, while his mother and father held regular jobs. His father had worked for a manufacturing company, while his mother had been a pre-school teacher. As the “pretty boy” in his classes, he’d often had to prove his worth with his fists. As a result, he learned the true meaning of courage, and to never be the first one to quit—–at anything.

      It was that attitude that made him so formidable in his own career. His parents had died within a year of each other while he was in college. His grandparents had passed a couple of years later. He’d inherited the run-down plantation, as well as the row house in the city where he’d grown up, and now he was completely alone in the world.

      When he was twenty-two, he sold the little row house for a tidy sum to a company that needed land to expand, then he invested the money. One thing had led to another, until years passed and he had become known as what some might call a corporate shark. He did what he did without apology, but he did it while maintaining his hometown residency in Baton Rouge.

      Mike could have lived an opulent lifestyle in any of the country’s big cities, with limousines and fine dining, and beautiful women at his beck and call, but he’d chosen not to. He was tall and lean, with black hair and green eyes, and a stubborn streak inherited from his Cajun ancestors. And when he’d made his first million dollars, he’d renovated the old Boudreaux plantation outside of Baton Rouge and had lived there ever since. He traveled all over the world when job and duty called, but his roots ran deep in the Louisiana bayous.

      For the past few years, Susan Blackwell had been a large part of his life. Now he had to face that she was gone. Sad for himself, and for the woman before him, he laid a hand on her arm.

      Cari stirred as she felt his touch. When she opened her eyes, their gazes locked. Hers was unflinching. And in that moment, Mike made a promise.

      “I’ll help you through this. I’ll make sure you stay safe.”

      Cari sighed, then bit the inside of her lip to keep from crying. “Then you need to start by calling me Susan.”

      “Right,” Mike said, then stepped back and shoved his hands in his pockets. “For now, just know I’ve got your back.”

      A huge weight had suddenly been lifted from Cari’s shoulders. “Thank you.”

      “It’s the least I can do…for Susan,” Mike said, as his voice broke.

      Tears welled again, but Cari blinked them away. “For Susan,” she echoed.

      At that point the nurse came back and shot a syringe full of something into Cari’s IV. A few minutes later, Cari was out.

      But Mike wasn’t sleeping. He’d made a promise, and he didn’t make those lightly. He was already on a mission to find out all he could about Lance Morgan. Finding Morgan’s weakness would be the first step in learning the identity of the man he’d murdered, which would also be the first step in making sure Carolina North stayed alive.

      By the time Lance reached Bordelaise, it was obvious the tornado’s damage was widespread. Houses were missing roofs. Trees were down everywhere, as were a large number of power lines. Even a cell phone tower had been twisted into a tangle of wire and metal, probably the reason he’d been unable to reach 911.

      Main Street was a melee of cop cars, ambulances and fire trucks from at least half a dozen neighboring communities. It was obvious that the tornado had been on the ground when it came through town. The courthouse and nearby jail had taken direct hits, as had a grocery store, a lawyer’s office and a beauty shop. He didn’t know where to go to notify rescue services about the Norths.

      Finally, when he’d driven as far as he could go, he parked, then started walking. Then someone called his name.

      “Hey! Lance!”

      He turned around. It was Lee Tullius, one of the parish police officers, standing by a panel van. Lance started toward him at a jog.

      “Thank God you’re here!” Lee said. “We need some able-bodied volunteers to help move residents from the nursing home into the hospital.”

      “I’ll be glad to help,” Lance said. “But I came into town to report three deaths.”

      Lee paused, then put down the cots he’d been unloading. “Who and where?”

      “Out at the Norths. Frank, Maggie and Cari are all dead. I drove over there right after the storm and…”

      His voice broke. He didn’t have to fake the tears in his voice and eyes.

      Lee knew Lance and Cari had once been a couple, and that they’d grown up together.

      “Well, damn. I’m really sorry to hear that,” he said, then gritted his teeth. “This might sound cruel, but right now, we’re trying to focus on the living.”

      “But they’re just…they’re lying out in the open. Birds…animals…just anything could get them.”

      Lee sighed, picturing the pretty, dark-haired girl he’d known who’d grown up to become a famous writer, then palmed his radio. “Tullius here. Over.”

      Vera Samuels, the daytime dispatcher at the police department, picked up. “Go ahead, Lee. Over.”

      “Got a report of three dead bodies at the Frank North farm southeast of Bordelaise. Need them picked up ASAP. Over.”

      Vera started to cry. “All of them? Over.”

      “Ten-four,” Lee said. “We need the bodies retrieved before the animals get to them. Over.”

      “Oh my God…I went to school with Cari,” Vera said, as she struggled to speak through tears.

      “So did I,” Lee responded. “Get some people out there, and get them back