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Why would he be receiving a call from Broussard Country Store? Could it be that Shelby had asked her sister if he’d left his contact information? Had Chrissy given her the number just now? Or was it Chrissy ‘staying in touch’?
He swiped his finger across the screen and stepped back out onto the porch. “This is Remy.”
“Remy, it’s Chrissy Broussard, uh Taylor, from Bayou Mambaloa.”
His heart sank. He’d held out hope that Shelby would be the one to place this call. “Hey, Chrissy, it’s good to hear from you.” And it was good to hear from her. She might have insight into what Shelby was up to and how she’d felt after their night in the bayou.
“It’s Shelby.” Chrissy’s voice broke on a sob. “I…she…needs you.”
Chapter 3
Remy gripped the cell phone tighter. “Chrissy, take a deep breath and tell me what’s going on.”
Chrissy inhaled, her breath catching several times before she spoke again. “She’s in the hospital in New Orleans. I want to be with her, but I can’t leave the boys, and Alan can’t manage the store and the boys by himself. I wouldn’t have called, but the hospital staff notified me that someone entered her room last night and tried to smother her.”
Remy nearly dropped the phone. “What the hell? Shelby’s in the hospital? Why? Start from the beginning.”
“I’m sorry. I’m just so beside myself. Shelby’s my only sibling. My only family. I don’t know what I’d do…”
“Chrissy, pull yourself together and tell me what you know, from the start.”
She sobbed again, then sniffed loudly in Remy’s ear. “I got a call from the sheriff’s department last night. The sheriff said Shelby was airlifted to a hospital in New Orleans. He said, J.D. LaDue—you know, the man who rented you his fishing shack…?”
“Right, I know who J.D. is.” Remy’s impatience was evident in how sharply he’d spoken. He spoke in a softer tone. “What about him?”
“The sheriff said Shelby was out in the bayou looking for evidence of a drug run transfer. When she didn’t report in before dark, the sheriff got worried and drove to the marina to look for her and the department’s skiff.” Her breath hitched.
“What happened?” Remy barked into the phone.
“She wasn’t there,” Chrissy cried. “As the sheriff turned to leave, he spotted a small boat coming in and stopped to see if it was Shelby.”
“And?”
“It wasn’t, but it was,” Chrissy wailed.
“Explain,” Remy urged, wishing he was there to comfort the hysterical woman with a hug.
“It was J.D. LaDue. He had Shelby in his boat. She was unconscious, barely breathing,” Chrissy sucked in a breath and continued, “The sheriff got an ambulance there in less than five minutes, but she didn’t come to and hasn’t woken up since J.D. brought her in.”
“Did J.D. say what happened?”
“He told the sheriff he found her little boat upside-down in the water with Shelby sprawled across the hull, out cold.”
“Any visible wounds?” Remy asked, his heart in his throat.
“She had a gash on her forehead and bruises on her arms,” Chrissy said. “I stayed with her for a few hours last night but had to get back to the boys.” She sobbed again. “I should’ve stayed all night. It was after I left that someone came in and tried to smother her.”
“What the hell?” Remy exclaimed.
“I know,” Chrissy said. “I should’ve stayed. The nurses said they’d responded to someone coding in another room. While they were working on him, Shelby’s alarms went off. Her heart had stopped.”
Remy’s heartbeat came to an abrupt stop and then pounded to catch up. He gripped the phone hard. “Is she—”
Chrissy kept talking as if she hadn’t heard his words. “When the nurses hurried to her room, someone wearing a black ski mask pushed past them and ran for the stairwell. While one nurse alerted security, the others found Shelby lying in her bed, a pillow over her face, her rolling table lowered on top of it to hold it in place.” Chrissy sobbed. “Someone tried to kill my sister!”
Remy clung to the word ‘tried.’ “But she’s okay, right? They got to her in time?” He held his breath.
“They had to…jumpstart…her heart…two times before…it started beating on its own.” Chrissy was sobbing again.
