Page 55 of Broken Bayou
The chief sets his coffee down. Travis gives me a slight nod. He knows what’s coming.
The investigator puts a recorder on the table. “I’ll be recording this and taking notes.” He says the date, August 19, all our names, and then asks me to start at the beginning.
“Before I start, I want to make sure my mother and I ...” I glance at Charles. He nods. “Get immunity.”
“Well, I can’t guarantee that until I know what you’re going to tell me,” Tom says. “You just have to trust me. I’ll do what I can.”
“I dumped a car in the bayou almost two decades ago. I was a stupid teenager and dumped it so my mother could get the insurance money. That car was the first one you pulled out of the bayou.”
Tom nods, leans forward. “Dr. Watters, I don’t care one bit about some insurance scam from almost two decades ago. That’s off the table. You don’t need to worry about that.” He cocks his head to one side. “What you do need to worry about, however, are the human remains found in that car’s trunk.”
My body goes cold. I feel Charles staring at me. “I had no idea about that. I promise you that car was empty when I pushed it in the bayou.”
“Do you have proof?”
“Yes,” I say quickly. “A videotape.”
“I’d like to see it,” Bordelon says.
Charles clears his throat behind me. Travis raises his eyebrows. So much for my plan to keep that quiet for now.
“Of course,” I say to Bordelon, straightening. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think to bring it with me.”
Bordelon looks to the chief, then back to me. “Well, we’ll need you to bring it in as soon as possible.” He adjusts his chair. “For now, tell me about when you dumped the car.”
I readjust in my chair, shoot a quick glance to Travis, who nods. “I was seventeen. My mother, sister, and I were visiting our aunts here in Broken Bayou. My mother got a new car. A convertible. I’ve since learned it was a gift from her boss, Zeke Johnson. A guy she worked for part time while we were here.” I forge on. “One night, my mother asked me to get rid of the car. She said we needed money, and she could claim the car was stolen and get insurance money for it. So I got rid of it.”
Tom says, “Why would your mother ask you to get rid of it? Why wouldn’t she get rid of it herself?”
I look him in the eyes. “Because I was a minor. She said if I got caught, I’d just get a slap on the wrist.”
He nods. “And did your mother report the car stolen? Did she ever receive insurance money for it?”
“I don’t think so. She said she did, but Mama said a lot of things. She’s bipolar and, at the time, a serious alcoholic.” Images come back to me. The open and empty safe in the back office. The wad of cash in the glove box of the old station wagon she got back. “What I actually think is she stole from her boss.”
Tom scratches at his face, rubs his chin. “Okay, let’s fast-forward. She’s asked you to get rid of her car. You’ve agreed. Now what?”
This is where it’s going to get tricky for Travis. I sneak a peek at him but can’t read his expression. I look at Tom. “I walked to where my mother left the car, and then I went to a friend’s house and asked for help. Then I drove the car to Walter Delaroux’s farm.”
Tom leans forward. His eyes widen. “Walter Delaroux who’s in custody for the barrel murders?”
I nod.
“Who was the friend?” Tom says.
I rub my brows, take a breath. Sorry, Travis. “Before I say his name, I want you to know he had no idea what I was up to. He was only helping me because I begged him to. He left his truck for me to use to push the car in, and he walked away before I ever dumped the car.” Iadd, “And we cleaned the car out, even the trunk. There was nothing in that trunk. Nothing. I swear.”
“What’s his name? Your friend.”
I swallow, then point to Travis. “Travis Arceneaux.”
The chief whips his head to the side. “Travis?”
Travis nods. His eyes find mine. I mouth the wordsorry.
Tom looks at the chief. “Maybe you better take Travis down to your office. I’ll be down in a minute.”
As Travis follows the chief out, his hand grazes my shoulder. A light touch, a simple squeeze that tells me it’s okay.
