Page 63 of Cursed
“So you say,” Jarvis answered. His voice turned hard as brass. “We’ll straighten this out down at the police station.”
“No!” Unable to control a spurt of panic, Andre backed away. Maybe he intended to run. Maybe not. All he knew was that he couldn’t take a chance on spending the night in a jail cell. He had to stay out here—at Belle Vista, where he was safe.
He realized instantly that he had made the wrong move. All at once, a gun materialized in the sheriff’s hand. “Hold it right there,” he said with the finality of the guy who holds the winning hand. “You’re coming with me.”
Andre went stark still. In a moment of panic, he had made a terrible mistake. Now he was a dead man. Or as good as dead.
As if from a long way off, he heard Morgan speaking. “You can’t do this.”
“I’m afraid he can,” Rivers said.
The sheriff pulled Andre’s hands behind his back. As if it were happening in a dream, he felt cold metal clanking around his wrists. He could hear the sheriff reciting his rights. When he was asked if he understood, he answered with a mechanical “yes.” He understood all right. This was the end of his life as he knew it.
His gaze shot to Morgan. There were so many things he needed to say. But he couldn’t tell her any of them in front of this crowd.
“I’ll get you out,” she said.
All he could do was nod wordlessly, because whatever happened, it was too late now for him—for them.
As Jarvis hustled him toward the door, he saw Carl and Rick Brevard looking on in satisfaction. But Dwight Rivers didn’t seem quite so gleeful. Maybe Rivers really was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. But he wasn’t the man holding the power.
Jarvis kept the gun in his hand as he hustled the prisoner to the police cruiser in the driveway. Opening the back door, he helped him inside, then slammed the door.
Andre looked wildly around. A metal grill separated the back seat from the front. And the door panel held no handle. The only way out of here was if Jarvis let him out. And that wasn’t going to happen until they arrived at the police station in St. Germaine.
And probably a crowd would have gathered—courtesy of Carl and Rick.
From a long way off, he heard Morgan’s voice. “Sheriff,” she called.
Jarvis turned to her.
“Mr. Gascon’s lawyer will be in touch with you.”
“You know where to find me.”
The lawman walked around to the front seat and slid behind the wheel, and Andre felt his vision go black as they drove away. Morgan might think she had a way to get him out. But he was sure it wouldn’t be in time.
Morgan watched the Brevard brothers swagger to their vehicle and leave. Had they stolen the jacket and planted the evidence? Or had it been Jarvis himself?
Dwight Rivers lingered. “Sorry,” he said.
“About what?” Morgan snapped.
“Jarvis has been looking for an excuse to arrest him.”
“On trumped-up charges.”
“I hope so.”
She might have stayed to talk about it; instead she charged into the house. Janet was standing in the hall, looking sick and frightened.
“It will be all right,” Morgan called to her as she dashed down the hall to the office.
Snatching up the phone, she called Decorah Security, aware of Janet watching anxiously from the doorway.
Zane Marshall answered.
“Zane, thank God!”
