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Gerard held out his hand to the sheriff. “I’ve seen you in passing, but we haven’t been formally introduced. Gerard Guidry.”
The sheriff gripped his hand. “You’re one of Remy Montagne’s guys with the Bayou Brotherhood Protectors, right?”
Gerard nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“Welcome to Bayou Mambaloa,” the sheriff said and then squatted down to inspect the foot.
Deputy Taylor pulled a camera out of her pocket and started snapping photos of the foot and the pigpen.
“The state crime team is on its way,” Sheriff Bergeron said. “They’ll want to clear the pen of the livestock so they can look for the rest of the victim.”
“In order to clear the pen, I’ll need help moving corral panels into position,” Bernie said.
“I gave my team a heads-up,” Gerard said. “They’re ready to help erect the temporary enclosure when we give them the word.”
“Hopefully, the folks from the state crime lab will be here soon,” the sheriff said. “They’ll want to sweep the area around the pen before we trample any potential evidence.” He glanced at the sky. “Won’t be long before the sun sets. We’d like to get those pigs out of there before they trample any more body parts.”
“I wouldn’t be as concerned about them trampling parts as consuming them,” Bernie said. “Pigs will eat any and everything—including human flesh and bones.”
Deputy Taylor grimaced. “And to think, some people keep pigs as pets.”
“While the sheriff and the crime scene investigators are working the area, could my guys help position the corral panels?” Gerard asked. “We can have them ready to move out here when they tell us it’s okay.”
Bernie nodded. “They don’t need us here. Come on.” She turned and started the long walk back across the field. “The panels are behind the barn. They’ll need to be disassembled and loaded onto a trailer. I can hook the trailer up to the tractor to pull it out here.”
Gerard kept pace with her. “I’ll let the guys know to head this way.” He pulled out his cell phone, keyed in a text and pressed Send. A moment later, his phone pinged with a response. He glanced up. “They’re on their way.”
As they arrived at the barn, the Louisiana State crime scene team pulled into the yard at the same time as the truck loaded with her field workers.
Bernie pointed the crime scene team in the right direction and watched as they picked their way across the field. Then she turned to the man in charge of the workers and shook her head. “We won’t be able to harvest today. I don’t suppose you have room on your schedule to come back in two or three days?”
The weathered man shook his head and spoke with his heavy Hispanic accent, “I’m sorry, Ms. Bellamy. We were only scheduled to work this afternoon and tomorrow morning. We have to move on to the next job. It’ll be a couple of weeks before we can get back here.”
Bernie nodded. “I understand.”
The men loaded into the truck and drove away.
Gerard stepped up beside her and touched her arm briefly. “It’s okay. My team will see that your crop is harvested on time.”
“Thanks,” she said, at once grateful and frustrated that she had to rely on others to help her. She’d managed the last three years on her own and the two-and-a-half years before that when she’d taken care of Ray and the farm by herself. When she’d needed help, she’d contracted labor, refusing to be beholden to anyone. “I can only afford to pay them what I would’ve paid the crew that just left.”
“They won’t take your money. I think they’ll actually look forward to working outside.”
She pressed her lips together. “The melons are heavy, and the humidity makes it feel hotter than the air temperature.”
“We’ve been working in the old boat factory, demolishing old, heavy equipment and then cleaning junk accumulated for decades. The place is big but not airconditioned.” He glanced around. “It might be hot outside, but at least we have a chance at a breeze and sunshine on our faces.”
Minutes later, a couple of trucks and an SUV pulled into the front yard and parked in a row. Several men dropped down from the vehicles and approached Bernie and Gerard. All were tall and muscular, but none quite as tall or broad-shouldered as Gerard.
A man with dark brown hair, reddish-brown eyes and a richly tanned complexion clapped a hand on Gerard’s back. “First assignment, and you’re already calling for reinforcements?”
Gerard glared at the man. “I just need you all for a few lousy minutes to help set up a temporary corral that’ll hold some pigs.”
“What do you need us to do?” A man with brown-black hair, smoky gray eyes and a sexy five-o’clock shadow turned on a smoldering hot smile and aimed it at Bernie.
That smile probably made other women weak at the knees. Bernie was startled at the faint flutter of awareness disturbing her gut.
She had to tell herself that the man had a great smile but was almost too handsome. And he probably knew it.
