The curtains were closed, but he could plainly see a shadow move across the window, and it wasn’t a critter.
Unless that damn rougarou that had everyone up in arms was real and walking across his porch. A chill went up his spine because the figure didn’t stop at the door to knock. The shadow knelt briefly and then stood again, walking back the way it had come and disappearing from sight.
He moved across the living room and threw the door open in time to see someone in all black make the turn around the side of the cabin, going back toward the waterline.
“Hey,” he said as he came through the door and started across the porch. There were several small islands out here and families who lived on them. “Do you need help?”
Storms could be hard on the islands. Most people out here had generators and were prepared, but the one last night was rough. There were branches down all over the yard, and he cursed when he saw their boat was no longer tied to the dock. He cursed under his breath as he realized what had happened. In his haste to get Sylvie inside, he’d been careless with his knots, and it seemed to have floated off.
He’d told himself he would go back and retie the boat when the storm let up a bit, but he’d fallen into bed with her and forgotten all about it. Now they were going to pay the price, because he couldn’t get her off this island without a boat.
He followed the man—he was almost certain it was a man—off the porch and around the cabin. Now he had to hope this was some neighbor looking around the community. It happened a lot after storms. “Hey, wait up.”
He rounded the corner and was surprised to see the figure jogging away from him. At that moment, the hood of the jacket the man was wearing fell back and revealed the big headphones that covered his ears.
Damn it. He was going to have to actually put hands on the man to get him to realize someone was here and needed help. What was this guy thinking? Anyone who spent time on the bayou knew better than to wear headphones. Hearing was important out on the water.
Rene followed as the man started up the hill that would take him to the other side of the small island. The ground was a muddy mess, and he wasn’t wearing shoes because he hadn’t wanted to lose the guy. His left foot hit a rock and slid out from under him, pain flaring as he realized he was going down. His leg buckled under him and he hit the mud with a thud.
“Rene?” Sylvie rounded the corner. She’d thrown on a big robe and stood at the edge of the porch.
“Don’t come out here without shoes,” he shouted back. He’d learned that lesson. He had stepped on a rock, and while the skin wasn’t broken, it hurt.
“Are you all right?” She walked carefully toward him, and she was absolutely not wearing shoes.
“I’m fine. Go back to the porch. There’s rocks and stickers out here, and the mud is slippery.”
She stood over him and offered him a hand. She was a stubborn one. “Your knee is cut. What happened? I heard you shouting.”
“Someone was on the porch.” He heard a motor start up and knew he’d never make it to that boat in time.
Sylvie put a hand over her eyes, but she wouldn’t be able to see the water from here. Whoever it was hadn’t come to the dock closest to the cabin. He’d used the farther dock, the old one they’d had before his father commissioned the new one. That told him whoever it was either didn’t know this island at all or hadn’t been here in a few years.
“Did they need something?” Sylvie asked, helping him to his feet. “I think the Jennings family lives close. They might have come over to see if there’s any gas to be had if they ran out.”
That was true, but he knew the Jennings family. They’d borrowed from his cabin before, and always left a note and replaced what they’d taken. There would be no reason for a Jennings to run from him. If it had been one of the boys, they would have stopped and checked on him and Sylvie, probably offered to help look for their boat or give them a ride back to town.
“I don’t think it was a friendly person. I can get up on my . . .” His wife’s eyes had narrowed and he rethought his words, taking her hand. This was one of those times he had to overcome his father’s teachings that a man should look strong at all times. His wife wasn’t going to put up with what he was sure she would call toxic masculinity. “Thank you. My leg went out from under me. You would think all that physical therapy I did would make a leg stronger, but you would be wrong.”
The narrowed look fled, replaced with soft sympathy. “Are you okay? I can help you back to the cabin.”
It was obvious Sylvie wasn’t a fan of unnecessary male pride. He let her help him up and leaned on her as they started to make their way back. “My leg’s going to ache. I shouldn’t have gone after him but I wanted to see who it was. He was wearing headphones. I don’t think he was local. Or at least he wasn’t used to being out on the islands. I can’t think of even a kid who lives out here wearing headphones on the water.”
“What would he have been doing?” Sylvie asked. “If he wasn’t looking for help, that is? Or us. I’m sure my momma has called the sheriff by now. I told Gertie I was taking the afternoon off but I didn’t get into the details. I’m sure your momma called my momma, and there was probably a ritual of protection performed last night. But only after she called Armie.”
They were completely in sync. “That’s a good thing because I’m the dumbass who didn’t properly tie our boat and it’s floating around somewhere. I’m sorry. I should have taken better care of you.”
She stopped at the stairs and smiled up at him, a gleam in her eyes. “Oh, you took care of me, Rene Darois.”
It was good to see her smile. She didn’t expect perfection from him, and that made him relax. He brushed his lips over hers. “I’m still sorry we don’t have a boat. And since we don’t have power, we also don’t have coffee.”
Her smile faltered. “What?”
So she wasn’t all sunshine this morning. That oddly made him comfortable, too. “I’ll build another fire and boil some water for you. I promise I will make this work.”
Sylvie moved up the steps without him. “What’s that?”
He tested his full weight on his bad leg and was satisfied when he was steady. He hoped he had another pair of sweatpants, though. These were covered in mud, and he was going to have to suffer an incredibly cold shower. He followed her and saw what she was talking about. There was a pouch slid under one of the two rocking chairs on the porch. The leg of the chair would ensure the pouch didn’t blow away. “Is it wet?”
She leaned over and picked it up. “No. It’s perfectly dry. We can assume it wasn’t sitting here all night. Do you think that man left it? It has to be intentional. It couldn’t have fallen under there.”