Chapter One
Jackson Fortier pulled his car into one of the back parking spaces on the side of Vincent’s Gas and Grocery Store. The little store was the last establishment before the vast swamp that more than half surrounded the small town of Black Bayou, Louisiana.
There were more than a dozen cars parked there as Vincent Smith, the owner of the place, allowed people who lived in the swamp to keep their vehicles there. His sleek sports car stuck out like a sore thumb amid the old model cars and banged-up pickups.
It was just after noon and the late August sun was bright and cast down waves of heat. He got out of the car and pulled a note from his pocket. On the sheet of paper were directions to his best friend, Peyton and her husband, Beau’s shanty.
He’d never been to their place in the swamp before. Peyton had offered to meet him here and lead him in, but he’d insisted he was a big boy and with directions he could get himself there.
However, as he stood and stared up the trail before him, he was sorry he hadn’t taken Peyton up on her offer. Tangled vines, overhanging leaves and Spanish moss made the path disappear into semidarkness.
Where the sunlight did manage to penetrate through, it shone on pools of water on either side of the path, dark waters that were filled with gators and snakes and all sort of other mysterious creatures.
The only place Jackson was at home on a trail was when he was walking the greens on a golf course. He fingered the directions in his hand as a wave of apprehension shot through him. It wasn’t too late to call Peyton and have her meet him here, but he was reluctant to do so.
Surely if Peyton could traverse these paths alone, then he could as well. He glanced down at the directions. Go straight ahead until you reach a fork. Take the path to the left. That’s all he read. He’d look at the next part when he reached the fork.
He drew a deep breath and then began to walk slowly forward. There was a distinctive odor in the air. It was a combination of something sweetly floral coupled with greenery and earthiness and the distinctive scent of decay.
Insects buzzed and clicked all around his head, creating a cacophony of sound that was totally alien to him. A rustling came from either side of him as if small creatures were running away from his presence. At least he hoped like hell they were running away from him.
The apprehension inside him rose higher as he forged ahead, watching every single step where he placed his feet. He admitted he’d been a fool to attempt this for the first time all alone.
He could easily fall into the dark waters on either side of the path and be eaten by a gator or bitten by a venomous snake and die an agonizing death. Hell, he could get lost in the vast depths of the swamp and never be seen or heard from again.
He’d like to think the sheen of moisture that covered his skin was from the heavy humidity that hung in the air, but he suspected it was the perspiration of fear.
Hell, he could face down a shark across the table in a boardroom and beat most any man in a financial game, but walking into the swamp had him on edge like nothing he’d ever experienced before in his life.
“Suck it up, man,” he said aloud to himself. He crept along at a snail’s pace and dodged the low hanging branches that threatened to take his head off. He jumped and cursed as a large splash sounded far too close for comfort in the waters to his left.
He took a couple more steps, then stopped and whirled around as a rustling noise came from behind him. His heart raced and his body filled with fight-or-flight adrenaline. He saw nothing. Hopefully, it was just another little animal scurrying through the brush and not a wild boar bent on eating him.
He turned back around and took another couple of steps. The rustling came again and this time when he turned around to look, his right foot stepped off the narrow path and directly into the dark water.
A string of curses escaped him as he quickly yanked his foot up and out. Dammit, it had been stupid for him to wear his good loafers and nice black slacks. All of his clothes, including the nice shirt he had on would probably
be ruined by the end of this trek.
He stopped cursing and immediately heard the sound of musical laughter coming from someplace behind him. He whirled around again and there she was...one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen in his life.
She was clad in a pair of jeans and a white sleeveless blouse that showcased her deep tan. Long dark hair spilled down her back and her dark eyes sparked with obvious humor. “First time in the swamp, Mr. Fancy Pants?”
“What gave you that idea?” he asked with a touch of humor and a bit of embarrassment.
She laughed once again and even though he knew she was laughing at him, he couldn’t take offense. He probably looked like a silly fool to anyone who had been watching him bumbling his way along. But he suddenly had other things on his mind besides his own embarrassment, like who was this beautiful woman?
“My name isn’t fancy pants, but it is Jackson... Jackson Fortier. And you are?”
“Josephine Cadieux, but folks around here just call me Josie,” she replied. “What are you doing out here in the swamp? It’s obvious you aren’t a frequent visitor.”
“Definitely not. I’m on my way to visit with friends. Maybe you know them, Peyton LaCroix and Beau Boudreau?”
“I not only know them, I’m friendly with them,” she replied.
“I agreed to come for a visit today and insisted Peyton didn’t have to meet me to lead the way in and instead she could just give me the directions.” He held out the piece of paper he’d been clutching in a death grip in his hand.
“They are close neighbors of mine. Would you like me to take you to their place?” she asked.
“That would be great,” he replied with a sigh of relief. Not only would he like her to take him in, but it would also maybe give him a chance to get to know her a little better.
Her attractiveness definitely piqued his interest. And it had been a very long time since he’d been interested in any woman. He watched as she walked in front of him. “Just follow me,” she said.
He couldn’t help but notice the perfect roundness of her rear end, just as he had noticed the full breasts beneath her white blouse. The jeans she wore clung to her long shapely legs. Ah, there was no question that Josie Cadieux was a real stunner.
“Watch your step here,” she said as the trail narrowed.
“Thanks. So, you mentioned you’re a neighbor of Peyton’s. Do you have a family?” he asked.
“No, it’s just me,” she replied. They reached the fork in the trail and she led him to the left.
“What do you do out here?” he asked. The fact that she’d said she lived alone had further intrigued him.
“I fish. That nice piece of red snapper or catfish you ate in one of your fancy restaurants in town might have been caught by me.” She stopped and turned around to look at him. Her eyes held a teasing sparkle he
found enchanting. “And what do you do besides wear inappropriate clothes for a visit to the swamp?”
He laughed, delighted that she had some sass to her. “I deal in real estate,” he replied. It was an understatement because he dealt in all kinds of finance. It was how he’d become wealthy...and completely bored with his life.
She turned back around and continued forward. She moved with an agility and grace he admired. He followed after her, trying to step exactly where she stepped as he dodged Spanish moss and vines that threatened to consume anyone who got too close to them.
He tried to pay attention to where they were going but it was difficult to concentrate on anything but her. “So, are you single?” he asked.
“It depends on who asks me,” she replied.
“What if I’m asking?”
“I’d have to think about it.”
“How long would you have to think about it?” he asked.
“I’m not sure.” They took a sharp fork in the trail and a shanty appeared. “That’s Beau and Peyton’s place.” She turned and smiled. “You have arrived safely despite your fancy clothes and stumbling start.”
“That’s thanks to you,” he replied. “You said you were neighbors of Beau and Peyton. So, where’s your place?”
“Around,” she replied, and there was something in her tone that let him know he’d overstepped boundaries with the question.
“So, are you usually around the same place around the same time where I met you today on other days?” He didn’t want to leave here without some opportunity to see her again. He was drawn to her and wanted to get to know her better. She was so different from all the other women he had known.
It wasn’t just that she was gorgeous, but it also had to do with her obvious self-reliance and the inner strength he sensed in her. He’d never thought much about the women who lived in the swamp, other than three of them who had been in the newspaper headlines recently as murder victims.
“I could possibly be around the same place again tomorrow,” she replied. Once again, a flirtatious sparkle filled her eyes. “Are you sure you want to venture out here again?”
“Definitely,” he replied. “Will you know tomorrow if you’re single?”
She cast him a slightly mysterious smile. “We’ll see tomorrow. Enjoy your visit,” she said and took several steps away from him, quickly disappearing into the darkness of the swamp.
A DARK BAG stole Josie’s breath away as it fell around her head to her neck and a string pulled it tight, threatening to suffocate her. Wha-what was happening? She raised her hands to get it off her, but a hard push cast her to the ground.
With a cry, she fell forward to her hands and knees. Before she could regain her footing or figure out what was happening, she was rolled over on her back.
Immediately, somebody was on top of her, grabbing her wrists and attempting to tie them together. She tried to fight back, but he managed to tie her wrists
together anyway.
Shock and fear shot through her. Was this the person who had killed three women? Was she about to become the fourth victim of the Honey Island Swamp Monster?
Josie came awake and jerked up to a sitting position, her heart pounding a thousand beats a minute as sobs ripped from the very depths of her.
Looking around the bedroom with the aid of a shaft of moonlight that danced in through the nearby window, she tried to center herself. It had not only been a horrible nightmare, but it had been what had happened to her a little over ten months ago.
It took her several moments and then she managed to stop crying. She swiped the last of her tears away and then slid her legs over the side of the bed and got up. She went into the living area and lit a couple of kerosene lanterns that were on a shelf. She could have started her generator and flipped on an electric light, but it was too much trouble and, in any case, she often preferred the softer glow of the lanterns.
There was no way she was ready to go back to sleep, not with the taste of the nightmare still bitter on her tongue and thick in her chest.
She went to her front door, unlocked it and then stepped outside on the narrow porch that encircled her shanty. The sounds of the swamp surrounded her...the throaty bellow of frogs and the slap of fish in the water. Insects buzzed and clicked in a nightly chorus and there was also the rustling of night creatures as they scampered along through the nearby brush.
She’d never been afraid in the swamp. It was her home. From a young age, her parents had taught her the good plants and the bad, the things to be afraid of and the places to avoid.
No, she’d never been afraid in the swamp until that night when she’d been violated and even then, it hadn’t been anyone from the swamp.
The man who had raped her had been from town. His hands had been far too soft to be anyone from the swamp. He’d smelled of expensive cologne and even though he’d only spoken a few words to her, she knew she would never ever forget the sound of his deep voice.
She’d immediately reported the assault to the chief of police, Thomas Gravois. She knew if she’d been a young woman from town, Gravois would have moved heaven and earth to solve the crime. But because she was from the swamp, next to nothing had been done about it.
That didn’t mean she was just going to forget about it. One way or another, she intended to find the man and expose him. However, there was a huge obstacle standing in her way.
As a woman from the swamp, she had no invite into the inner circle of wealthy men that ran the town of Black Bayou. And she believed with all her heart that was where her personal monster hid.
She thought about the man she had led in to Peyton and Beau’s place. The minute she’d known who he was. Jackson Fortier was one of the most eligible single men in the small town. He was not only wickedly handsome, but he was also extremely wealthy.
Josie didn’t give a damn about his money, but he could potentially be an entry into where she wanted to go. Or she could possibly never see him again.
One thing was certain, he wasn’t the man who had attacked her. ...
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