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“Swede was able to get the DNA info from the crime lab and ran it through a couple of the ancestry databases and found a close match with Vincent Benoit.”
“That fits with the fingerprint,” Shelby said.
“My grandmother was into the ancestry apps,” Bernie said. “I remember coming home from school, and she would be paging through screen after screen on the computer, tracing her family all the way back to Wales. She gave my mother and me DNA tests for Christmas one year.”
Remy nodded. “That’s what was so interesting about Swede’s findings.”
Bernie’s eyes narrowed. “What else did they learn?”
Remy met and held Bernie’s gaze. “Chauvin is a close match to a Bernadette Dupuy.”
Bernie pressed a hand to her chest. “My maiden name.”
He nodded. “Daughter of Alice and Bernard Dupuy.”
Bernie’s heart pinched hard in her chest. “My mother and father. I was named after my father, but I didn’t have any siblings.”
“You and Chauvin could be related as close as half-siblings.”
“How old did you say Chauvin was?” Gerard asked.
“Thirty-eight,” Remy replied.
Bernie struggled to wrap her head around this. “Four years older than I am.” She held out her hand. “Let me see that photo again?”
Remy held out his cell phone.
“That’s why he looks familiar.” Bernie left the living room and hurried to the guest bedroom where she’d stored keepsakes her mother and grandparents had treasured. She pulled a wooden box off the closet shelf, opened the lid and shuffled through old photographs of her and her mother. Near the bottom of the box, she found the only photo her mother had kept of the three of them when she’d been a golden-haired toddler.
She laid the box on the guest bed and hurried back into the living room. She held out the photo. “Dean Chauvin is the spitting image of my father at that age.”
Chapter 12
Gerard leaned over her shoulder, resting a hand against the small of her back. “He has the same hair and facial features as your father. On the other hand, you look like your mother.”
Bernie had always been told she resembled her mother. “I think it made it easier for her that I didn’t remind her of my father. She never remarried after my father left.” She stared at the last picture of them as a happy family of three. “I always hated him for breaking her heart.”
“Well,” Shelby said, “that’s a hell of a note. Kind of puts a damper on our little party here.”
“Any idea of why Chauvin was in Bayou Mambaloa?” Bernie asked.
Remy shook his head. “Now that Swede knows he’s connected to the mafia, he’s putting out feelers to see if anyone is talking about why Chauvin left New Orleans.”
Gerard pulled Bernie close. “They’ll keep us informed. In the meantime, all of Bayou Mambaloa is here for you.”
Shelby nodded. “You might want to say something to them.”
Bernie nodded, her head spinning with the knowledge that she’d had an older brother. A sibling she’d never meet if his foot was any indication of what had happened to him. She’d always wished she’d had a brother or sister growing up.
She walked with Gerard out onto the porch and looked over the lawn where people talked, danced and mingled with their friends and neighbors.
These people were her family. They’d joined forces to help her when she’d thought she’d lose the farm.
Shelby strode over to the band. When they finished the song they were playing, she motioned for them to stop.
As an introvert, speaking to crowds had always been difficult for Bernie. When she looked out at the faces looking back at her, she reminded herself they weren’t strangers but friends and neighbors she’d known all her life.
She faced them and spoke from her heart. “When I lost my mother, then my grandparents and my husband, I thought I was alone in this world. You have proved me wrong. I’m not alone when I’m surrounded by a community of people I consider family. You’re there when I need a hand or just someone to talk to. As I look at all of your faces, I’m overwhelmed with love and joy and thankful I have you in my life. Thank you for your incredible generosity.”
