Dead Letter Office, Parish Mail #1

Chapter 11

Thank you Wattpad readers for voting! And the winner is... CHOICE A!

CHOICE A: Luc’s right. We can’t risk waiting and letting Jean getting away. 

CHAPTER 11

Sitting behind Donovan as he drives, tailing Jean’s car through New Orleans, I can tell he’s not happy. The atmosphere in the car is electric with tension. Luc’s in the front passenger seat, and I keep catching him and Donovan swapping sidelong glances. I should’ve called shotgun, I think.

“You told me he was dead. You didn’t tell me he was hot.” Tilly scolds me in a whisper, nodding toward Luc.

“Shh,” I whisper back, feeling a blush creep into my cheeks.

“So. What’s your big plan when we catch up with him?” Donovan asks Luc.

“We’ll figure it out when we get there,” Luc answers, gaze fastened on Jean’s car.

“Good plan.” Donovan nods. “No way that can go wrong.”

“You want to make that left turn he just took?” Luc demands sharply.

Donovan takes the turn at high speed, stamping on the accelerator just as the light changes. The tires squeal as we round the corner.

“Donovan!” I yelp. “Be careful!”

“We didn’t lose him, did we?” He drives on, perfectly confident. “And it’s not like being careful is on the agenda anyway.”

It goes on like that for miles, Donovan and Luc trading barbs, all of us uncomfortable, as we trail Jean out of the city, always keeping him in sight from a few cars back. The landscape changes to suburbs, then to rural flats, and then to swamp. Traffic thins out the farther we go, and it becomes difficult and then impossible to keep cars between Jean and us. Donovan’s forced to hang back farther and farther so Jean doesn’t notice us following him. Night’s long since fallen, and our headlights sweep the lonely road ahead as we leave the city lights far behind. That’s not all we’re leaving behind, I think. The police could be hours behind us. If they’re coming at all.

There are a couple of close calls when we nearly lose Jean in the dark after one turn or another, but Donovan catches up and finds him again each time. “You’re really good at this,” I say. His eyes catch mine in the rearview mirror with a hint of a smile, and then flick away.

Soon we’re on an unlit gravel track, not even a proper road. Swamp grass and cypresses rise up on either side. Luckily the moon is on the full side tonight, hanging bright in the sky. “We’re in the bayou,” Tilly murmurs.

“We haven’t seen Jean in a while,” I say. “Could we have lost him?”

Donovan shakes his head. “I didn’t notice any turnoffs. This is the only road. He has to be here.” But where?

“Kill the lights!” Luc exclaims, and Donovan instantly stops the car and shuts off the headlights. By the light of the moon and stars, we see that we’re in a wide patch of gravel at the edge of the swamp. Jean’s car sits parked nearby. We wait, not moving, not even breathing, just watching every shadow. But none of them turns out to be Jean.

“I don’t see anything,” I whisper finally.

“Listen,” Tilly says, and we hear a whine. Loud, but growing fainter.

I have no idea what it could be. “What is that?”

“Fanboat,” Donovan says. “C’mon.”