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“I catch you looking at porn in this office, you and your Johnson are parting ways,” Nick grumbled.
“Damn, Nicky,” Stokes complained. “No one ruins a joke quite like you.”
He opened his email and clicked on the attachment.
The camera in the bar was situated high up on a wall, giving a broad view of the dance floor. People were dancing, smiling, laughing, passing a good time on a Saturday night as people in south Louisiana were wont to do.
“This is Marc Mercier, right here,” Stokes said, reaching a finger toward the monitor.
He was dancing with a curvy little blonde, who was laughing and smiling, her thick braid bouncing over her shoulder down the front of her tight T-shirt.
“And here comes the angry husband,” Chaz said, pointing to a male coming across from the far side of the room, making a beeline to the dancers.
He was tall, athletic-looking, with broad shoulders and trim hips. He clamped a hand on the girl’s shoulder and yanked her back away from her dance partner, shouting something in her face. The girl cringed away like a whipped dog.
Annie felt a sickening chill run through her.
The angry husband surged in front of his wife to get in Marc Mercier’s face. Mercier didn’t back down. They were evenly matched for size. A pair of young bulls intent on squaring off. Words were exchanged but couldn’t be heard. Then shoves were exchanged. The husband threw a punch, landing hard enough to snap Mercier’s head around before a bouncer intervened.
“And who is this guy?” Nick asked.
Annie answered before Chaz could draw breath. “That’s Cody Parcelle.”
22
“This ismy case,” Stokesgrumbled. “I could talk to the wife myself.”
Annie rolled her eyes. “Her name is Tulsie, and I already have a relationship with her. If you weren’t such a damncouillon, you’d see that this is a good thing. I’m helping you. You should mark this day on your calendar. I’m happy to leave Cody to you, but you won’t get anything out of this girl. She doesn’t know you.”
“I talk girls into saying things all the time. I’m actually very good at it.”
“Yeah. ‘Ooh, ah, you’re so good!’ doesn’t really count.”
“Very funny.”
“I know you’re a big hit with horny drunk women at the Voodoo Lounge, but I’m invested in this girl, Chaz. I don’t want her withdrawing because she’s feeling overwhelmed by a male detective she doesn’t know.”
“The least you could do was let me drive,” he pouted.
“Oh, my God, you’re such a child,” Annie snapped. “You don’t even know where we’re going! And you’re too much of atête duretoask for directions. We’d be driving around in circles all night. I should have made you and your ego ride in a separate car.”
She hit the blinker and turned off the main road to the gravel road that led to the Parcelles’ place. “Tulsie and her hired hand both told me Cody left for Houston Sunday morning. And he for sure gave her a beating as a parting gift. Now we know why.”
“I take it this isn’t the first time.”
“No. I got called out here a while ago. She wouldn’t press charges. I told her this morning she should think about leaving him. She didn’t want to hear it.”
“They never do. What’s wrong with women, putting up with that shit?”
“Mostly they’re more scared of what will happen to them without the guy than they are scared of the guy himself,” Annie said. “You know, people have a hard time envisioning their own death. They don’t really think it’ll ever happen. It’s like that OD I had today. That girl knew plenty of people who died taking drugs. She did it anyway. She never thought it’d be her dead on the floor. Tulsie still believes she can navigate around Cody’s temper and keep the rest of her life in place.”
The lights were on in the barn as they came up the Circle P driveway. Annie pulled in alongside the old white Chevy truck with the rusted wheel wells as the dogs came running, singing their song of greeting.
The Chicks were playing on the radio as she and Stokes walked in—“Set Me Free.” Izzy Guidry was grooming the little palomino Tulsie had been riding in the morning. Tulsie was in the aisle struggling to unfold a stable sheet with her one good arm. She looked up with shock, her gaze darting from Annie to Stokes and back.
“Hey, Tulsie,” Annie said. “This is Detective Stokes. Sorry to interrupt your evening.”
“What’s going on?”
