“Maybe you weren’t thinking clearly,” said Nine, smiling at the young woman. “Marcel swam out to save you.”
“Marcel. That’s a beautiful name,” she smiled. As quickly as it appeared, it disappeared, replaced by tears. “You should have let me die. I won’t stain my family’s name. I didn’t steal anything.”
“Do you remember your name?” asked Ajei.
“Amy. Amy Fontenot.”
“And what day is it?” she asked the woman.
“Wednesday.”
“Good. I’ll be back in a few minutes just to check on you again. You’re going to be just fine, and these men are going to help you.”
“Amy, you work for the Prometheus Foundation, right?” asked Gaspar.
She nodded, wiping her tears on the sheet. On impulse, Marcel reached for a tissue, shocked at the feeling of the strange object between his fingers. He rubbed it gently, the others clearing their throats. He nodded, handing it to her.
“I do. I did. I’m not sure,” she cried.
“Amy, our team found out what happened and spoke to our attorneys who have found out some additional information. We’re working with your employer to clear your name, and we believe we can. A similar incident happened recently to a foundation that we run.”
“You can clear my name? That’s wonderful! I can go back to work,” she smiled.
“Honey, I’m sorry, but they may not allow you to return to work,” said Nine. “We’re still working on that.”
“Why? I’m innocent. I didn’t take anything. I didn’t steal anything. All I’ve ever done is try to help raise money for Prometheus. I’ve dedicated my entire career to them.”
“I know, sweetie,” said Gaspar. “We’re going to figure this out, I promise.”
The others noticed that Marcel was decidedly quiet. He still held Amy’s hand in his own, rubbing his thumb along the back of the flesh of her hand. They weren’t sure if it was his need to feel human touch again or something else.
“I have a terrible headache,” she said. “Did I shoot myself?”
“No,” smiled Ajei, walking back into the room. “Thank goodness you didn’t do that. You did faint, apparently, when you saw Marcel. You hit your head pretty good.” The attractive woman looked up at him with a weak smile.
“Thank you. I haven’t been very gracious, but thank you. I do appreciate you saving me.”
“It was my honor,” he said.
“You look familiar,” she smiled. “I mean, beyond the fact that you saved me, you look familiar to me. Have we met before?”
“I doubt that,” he said with a smile. “I’ve spent my entire life on this property.”
“I feel certain I’ve seen you before. Well, it doesn’t matter. I’m grateful that you were there. What do I do now? I have to go home at some point,” she said, slowly shaking her head.
“We might suggest that you stay out here for a while, just until things die down,” said Nine. “Do you even know where you are?”
“No. I rented a pirogue at Gus’s Bait Shack and just drove around for a while, then ran out of gas. That’s why I was floating this way. I’m sorry if I was trespassing.”
“Don’t worry about that,” smiled Gaspar. “We stopped shooting trespassers about ten years ago. My mother was getting angry with us.” Gaspar was graced with a smile as he winked at the young woman. What he noticed, however, was the look of death coming his way from Marcel. He cleared his throat, nodding at his relative.
“You’re pretty far south from New Orleans. We’re a private security and investigation firm, but we have a gated community for all of our family and employees. No one can get on the property without our knowing about it. We’re happy to provide a place for you to reset and be available for our attorneys.”
“Are you sure? That’s a lot for a stranger who tried to kill herself in your bayou,” she said, frowning.
“We’re sure. Besides, I think our friend Marcel has developed an attachment to you,” smiled Nine. Marcel said nothing, still holding her hand and staring at her.
“Marcel,” she whispered. He leaned forward as if to hear her speak his name again. “Marcel Robicheaux.”