Cajun Magic 01 - Voodoo on the Bayou Read Online Free

love? And most of all, fidelity? Was that really too much to ask? They’d been engaged , for heaven’s sake.
    She slammed her palm against her Toyota’s steering wheel. If she hadn’t seen it with her own eyes, she’d never have believed Brian was having an affair. Right under her nose.
    No matter. Clearly, she was much better off without him.
    When she pulled into the little town of Bayou Miste, Louisiana, on the edge of the Atchafalaya Basin, she had completed her self-coaching session. She was a worthy and intelligent scientist whose work was important to the protection of a fragile ecosystem. She would locate the source of pollution killing the creatures that lived in the swamps. Once her research was complete, she would document her findings and take whatever action necessary to close down the source and force them to clean up the mess they’d made.
    But, as much as she tried to use logic and reason to mitigate it, Brian’s rejection still stung. Was something wrong with her? Would she ever feel more passionate about a man than science?
    The trip had taken longer than she had anticipated. She hoped the marina was still open. She wanted to move into her rental cottage and set up her lab as soon as possible.
    Bayou Miste could barely be called a town. Main Street ended in the parking lot of Thibodeaux Marina, beyond which spread endless miles of swamp. Dilapidated houses lined both sides of the street for the equivalent of one city block. It was a good thing she’d made her arrangements before she came. Only one rental house existed in the entire town and it was all hers for the next three weeks.
    An unsettling thought struck her and she glanced up, breathing a sigh of relief when she saw electrical lines. By the looks of the buildings, the town must have been built over seventy years ago, maybe a hundred. Peeling paint curled off the sides of a few houses. Weather and humidity had done their job to try to convert the structures into recycled compost.
    The bait shop located at the center of the marina was in the same condition, except where someone had applied a fresh coat of white paint to a square patch about seven feet tall and seven feet wide. The bright white contrasted sharply with the graying boards. The can and paint brush stood against the wall, waiting for the painter to pick up where he’d left off.
    The dock stretched off to the side and behind the bait shop. No one stirred in the lingering heat of the late evening. She understood why. She flipped her visor down and checked her appearance, attempting to smooth the frizzy mess her hair had become in the moist air. It was no use. Her hair knew no boundaries with one hundred percent humidity. She gave up.
    Much as she hated to admit it, Brian had a point. She hadn’t been out of the laboratory for a while. Mixing with people and being sociable was not easy for her in the best of circumstances. Invariably, she clammed up and stood there like a lump or, on occasion, she blurted out her opinions and alienated everyone within earshot. She preferred to read or walk alone. Sometimes she talked with other scientists, sharing information on past experiments or theories.
    She felt uncomfortable, out of her element, when she was outside the university environment. What did normal people talk about? What could she find in common with them? Hopefully, it wouldn’t be an issue while she was in Bayou Miste. She would find her specimens, conduct her studies, and not be bothered by social obligations.
    She pushed her glasses up her nose, gathered her purse and her courage, and climbed out of her practical, four-door sedan. After a few deep breaths of thick swamp air, she almost gagged. The rank smell of fish and stagnant water permeated the air. She squared her shoulders and marched up to the door of the bait shop, pointedly ignoring the water beyond.
    Mr. Thibodeaux said she could find him there. Not only did he own the marina, dilapidated as it was, but he was also