“They’re little mud islands like this one?” Eve asked.

Jean nodded. “I’ve lived here all my life and I’ve never run across anywhere else that had that many shells.”

“Are the islands close together?”

“Yes.” He paused. “But you’ll only be interested in the second one. There’s nothing on the other.”

Joe stiffened. “And what’s on the second one?”

“You won’t find your grave. It’s not there anymore.”

“But it was there?”

“Get more money,” Marguerite said.

Jean gave her an annoyed glance. “I was going to do that.” Joe peeled off another five hundred. “Was there a grave?” Jean nodded. “Two. Not marked. But they were there. I saw Etienne digging them. He was having a hard time. He said he had to anchor the bodies to the pilings because he didn’t want to chance the bodies being washed out and found.”

“Etienne Hebert? You knew him?”

Jean nodded again. “He came about the time the other two came. But he wasn’t like them. He was Cajun like us.”

“What other two? When?”

“About two years ago. Two men came and hired some of us to build them a house on the island and then forget they were there.” He shrugged. “The money was good.

Why should we care what they were doing? As long as they didn’t sell their drugs to our children, they could make all the powders they wanted. It wasn’t our business.”

“You thought they were into drugs?”

“We knew they were. Etienne told us. He would come and bring a bottle of wine and sit in that very chair and tell us about all the supplies that he brought down the bayou from Houma to the island.”

“He was a nice man,” Marguerite said. “You’re not going to get him into trouble?

He wasn’t to blame.”

“No, I promise Etienne won’t get into trouble,” Eve said.

“He always said that those crazy men would blow themselves up with all those chemicals they had him bring,” Marguerite said. “He was sad. I think he liked them.”

“And what happened to them?”

“What Etienne said would happen. One night there was a big explosion. When we went to see what happened, we found Etienne digging two graves. He told us to go away and forget what had happened. He said the police mustn’t know, or they would think we were all criminals, too.”

“And that’s what you did?”

“We’re not fools. The police think we’re scum. Etienne was right.”

“And what were the two men’s names?” Joe asked.

“What do you think?” Jean’s tone dripped sarcasm. “Smith and Jones. Do you think they’d give us their real names?”

“How long were they on the island before the explosion?” Eve asked.

“Four months, maybe. They came to us two months before that, but we wasted a little time because we started building on the first island. Then they decided it would be better to go a little deeper into the swamp, and we had to start again on the second.”

“How far apart are they?”

“About a mile. But a mile can make a big difference in the swamp.”

“You said you knew the grave wasn’t there anymore. How do you know that?”

“Etienne came back. He told us that the police were asking questions and he had to get rid of the skeletons.” Jean grimaced. “Trust the police to worry about dirt like that and try to cause us trouble. It wasn’t our fault they blew themselves up.”

“What do you know about Etienne’s brother?”

Jean frowned. “He has a brother?”

“He didn’t talk about him?”

Jean shook his head.

“That’s enough,” Dufour said. “Don’t tell them anything else unless they give you more money, Jean.” He smiled. “And a little bonus for me for bringing them to you.”

“You’ve probably squeezed enough out of them without dipping into my pockets,” Jean said. “And I’ll need all my money if me and my family have to disappear for a while.”

“Why do you have to do that?”

“You think I trust you or these people?” He looked at Joe. “We did nothing. We’re not responsible for how those crackheads died. They did it to themselves.”

“We’re not blaming you,” Eve said. “You don’t have to run away.” Jean ignored her. “Pack up, Marguerite.”

“We need you to take us to this island,” Joe said.

“Why? I told you, there’s nothing there.”

“There may be more than you think.”

Jean gave an exasperated exclamation. “Waste of time.” He stood up and headed for the door. “You want to see the place? You have a guide. I’m through with this.” He motioned to Dufour. “Come on, Jacques. I’ll walk you to the boat and tell you where it is.”

Joe moved after them. “I think I’ll tag along and listen in. I want to make sure we’re heading in the right direction.”

Eve was about to follow Joe out of the house, but stopped beside Marguerite, who was pulling out clothes from a scratched, shabby pine bureau. “Where will you go?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“We really mean you no harm.”

“Go away.”

Eve started for the door.

“Wait.” Marguerite was silent a moment. “We’ll be all right. We’ll go stay with friends for awhile until we’re sure it’s safe to come back. No one can find us in this swamp unless we want to be found.”

“If you knew you’d have to run away like this, why did you take the money?” Marguerite looked at her in wonder. “We needed it. It may not seem like a lot to you, but that much money will keep my children fed for months.” She pulled out a faded duffel bag from beneath the bed. “It’s worth the risk.”

“Eve,” Joe called from outside.

“Coming.”

Joe’s gaze raked her face as she came down the pier. “Did you convince her that we don’t mean to toss her family in jail?”

“No, she wouldn’t believe me. But she said the money was worth the risk. Those two little boys… I wonder if they get enough to eat. Poverty sucks, Joe.” Joe nodded, his gaze on Jean. “That’s not all it does.” She went still. “What do you mean?”

“It was a little too easy. It should have been harder to dig that information out of him.”

She nodded thoughtfully. “And it was a little odd that they didn’t know Etienne had a brother. From what we’ve heard, Etienne wasn’t the most discreet person in the world.”

He smiled. “I thought you were so concerned about those two little kids that you weren’t paying attention.”

“I’m sympathetic, not blind. You think Hebert got to Jean and set up a trap?”

“It’s possible.”

“Then his story is all a lie?”

“Not necessarily. The best lies are always the ones founded on truth.” He gazed thoughtfully out at the bayou. “Etienne probably did spin them a tale about a drug lab, and Jean and his neighbors did turn a blind eye. That doesn’t mean that Jules Hebert didn’t pop in last night and offer them enough money to make our bribe seem piddling.”

A chill went through her. “Then he’ll be waiting at the island.”

“That’s my guess.”

She drew a deep breath. “Good. Now how do we find a—”

“Later.” He turned and helped her into the boat. “Leave it to me.” Like she’d left it to him when he’d dumped her by the road outside New Orleans?

No way.

Chapter 18

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" HERE’S THE FIRST ISLAND.” DUFOUR POINTED TO THE MOUND OF MUD LOOMING

ahead. “The one that your drug-dealing friends were afraid was too out in the open and decided to abandon. My cousin didn’t get much done on it, did he?” A narrow pier weathered by water and time led to an equally weathered platform that must have been meant to be the foundation of the research facility. “According to Jean, the next island should be the one where you’ll find your grave.” He grinned. “Or lack of one. You sure you want to go on?”

“We want to go on,” Joe said. “But pull over to this island first. I want to make sure cousin Jean wasn’t lying about the shell content.” Eve looked at him in surprise.

Dufour shrugged. “Why not wait until you get to the right island?”

“Pull over.”

Dufour hesitated and then guided the boat close to the pier. “You’re wasting time.”