“There’s nobody here but me. And I’m pretty sure I’d know if I was talking to myself.”
“Look . . . I know I heard a voice.”
This time he raised an eyebrow, his gaze sweeping over the empty yard. “And just how long you been hearing this voice?”
Was he teasing her? Being sarcastic? Whatever it was, Miranda didn’t appreciate it. “Who are you, anyway? What are you doing here?”
“Miss Teeta sent me to fix the air conditioner.”
Miss Teeta. Miranda still wasn’t used to all this old-fashioned southern courtesy, so ripe with tradition and respect—the yes ma’ams and no sirs and gentle obsession with good manners. The conclusion she’d finally reached was that adults and old people were treated with the utmost politeness, but if you were friends with them, you could preface their first name with Miss or Mr. Miss Teeta, the real estate lady. Miss Wanda, at the beauty shop. Mr. Louie, who brings the mail each day. Even Mom had already lapsed into the etiquette of her upbringing—Miranda had heard her referring to the neighbors down the street as Miss Emmeline and Mr. Henry.
“So . . . you gonna let me in?” the young man asked. His voice was deep and slightly husky. Definitely a southern accent, but with something else—a trace of French, maybe?—mixed in. Sort of musical and mysterious. Sexy, even . . .
“How do I know you’re telling the truth?” Miranda stood her ground. “You could be a burglar.”
Cocking his head, he jerked his chin toward the apartment. “Me, I’d have to be pretty desperate to rob this place. Not much profit these days in lace doilies and gumbo pots.”
So he had been in the apartment before. Still trying to maintain her dignity, Miranda conceded with a curt nod and led the way upstairs.
“Mmmm . . . bet you’re really hot,” she heard him mumble behind her.
“Excuse me?”
“With the air-conditioning broken”—his tone was all innocence—“it’s gotta be over a hundred degrees in here.”
As the screen door closed behind them, he strode over to the window unit and immediately began an inspection. Miranda stood watching a moment, then took a seat on the couch. There was no whispery voice in here now.
Could I have imagined it?
“I’ve told Miss Teeta a thousand times, it’s no good to keep fixing this ole piece of junk. Everything’s gotta die sometime.” The young man seemed to be talking more to himself than to her. As Miranda watched, he wrestled the air conditioner off the sill and set it carefully on the floor.
The prospect of spending even one more minute in this heat was unthinkable. “You mean you can’t fix it?”
“I can fix anything, cher.”
“That’s not my name,” she corrected him. And aren’t you just pretty impressed with yourself, Mr. Repair Guy.
For a split second he looked almost amused, but then his features went unreadable once more. While he knelt down to resume his work, she gave him another curious appraisal. She hadn’t noticed those scars on his arms before—faint impressions, some straight, some jagged, some strangely crisscrossed. She wondered briefly if he’d been in an accident when he was younger.
Her eyes moved over the rest of his body. He was busy unscrewing the back off the air conditioner, his movements quick and fluid. She saw him glance at her, and she quickly looked away.
“Sorry about what happened,” he said. There was an awkward pause before he added, “To you and your mama—the hurricane and all. Must be tough, what y’all are going through.”
Miranda stared at him as he bent forward, his hair falling down around his face, shielding it from view. “How do you know about that?”
“Everybody knows about that. And if they didn’t already know before you came, I’m sure they knew five minutes after you got here.” He shrugged, but didn’t look up. “Small town. You’ll get used to it.”
No, you’re wrong. I’ll never get used to it. I’ll never get used to people knowing my business or invading my privacy. Only Marge and Joanie shared those things with me. Only them.
“I hate it here.” The words were out, bitter and angry, before Miranda could stop them. Embarrassed, she turned her attention to the floor. Great. Now I’ll probably be quoted on the six o’clock news . . .
Repair Guy, however, didn’t seem at all offended. “You’ll change your mind.”
“What do you mean, I’ll change my mind?” Another flash of anger went through her. “You don’t even know me.”
“The town, it has a way of pulling you in.” He squatted back on his heels. He wiped his face across one sleeve of his T-shirt, leaving a smear of dirt on his forehead and down his left cheek. “And maybe I know you a whole lot better than you think.”
Flustered, Miranda groped uselessly for a comeback.
“You really did hear someone before, didn’t you?” He fixed her with a calm, deliberate stare. “And what about the screams? Have you heard those, too?”
5
MIRANDA COULDN’T MOVE. It was as if every muscle had frozen in place and her mind had gone completely blank.
She had a sense of his scrutiny, a sense of her own confusion, an endless silence—but it wasn’t till the screen door burst open that she was finally able to stumble up from the couch.
“Why, here y’all are!” With a delighted laugh, Aunt Teeta hurried in, her plump arms spread wide, her blue eyes sparkling. “I didn’t see your truck outside, Etienne! I was afraid maybe you wouldn’t have time for me today.”
Etienne? Miranda shot him a startled glance just as Aunt Teeta caught him up in a hug. Hadn’t those kids in class been talking about someone named Etienne?
“Hey, Miss Teeta,” he said. “Uncle Frank had to borrow it— he’ll be passing by in a minute to get me.” He still hadn’t smiled, Miranda noted, but he didn’t seem to mind Aunt Teeta’s enthusiastic show of affection.
“All right now, tell me.” Releasing him, Aunt Teeta cast a hopeful look at the air conditioner. “Can you fix it—one more time?”
“You know I can.”
Another hug. Another laugh. It was always that way with Aunt Teeta. Arms open wide to hug everybody in sight, and that big, warm, contagious laugh that made everyone within earshot laugh right along with her.
Except Miranda didn’t feel much like laughing.
“So how do you like my handyman?” Aunt Teeta greeted her, pulling Miranda close. “Isn’t he a genius?”
Miranda managed a nod.
“I wasn’t sure your mama told you he was coming,” Aunt Teeta went on. “But I see you two have already met.”
Repair Guy answered smoothly. “We sort of . . . ran into each other.”
“Well, I’m so glad. Etienne, this is my niece, Miranda. I wasn’t exaggerating now, was I? About how beautiful she is?”
“No, ma’am, you weren’t exaggerating at all.”
With a silent groan, Miranda glanced longingly at the door while her aunt bustled back across the room.
“And Miranda, this is Etienne Boucher. I’m surprised y’all don’t know each other from school.”
“I’ve been working the last few days,” Etienne said.
“It’s one of those special programs, Miranda.” Aunt Teeta’s voice lowered, as though sharing some great secret. “He goes to school part-time, and the rest of the time he works. And he still manages to charm all the ladies in town.”
For the first time, Etienne seemed almost embarrassed.
“And my, but he cleans up good—I’ve seen him.” Winking at Miranda, Aunt Teeta was perfectly deadpan. “It just goes to show you—you can’t judge a greasy ole book by its cover.”
Hooting with laughter, she gave Etienne one last hug, then headed outside. “I’ve got some houses to show this afternoon,” she called over her shoulder. “But the door’s open, and there’s iced tea and pecan pie. You know where to find them.”
“Thanks.” Etienne hoisted the air conditioner into his arms. “Another time, maybe.”
“When
ever you can, hon. You know you’re always welcome. Oh, and about the heat in here—”
“I’ll make sure Uncle Frank brings a unit by and gets it running. Y’all can use it till this one’s fixed.”
“Darlin’, you are my hero of the day!”
“Wait up—I’ll walk out with you.”
Miranda could only stand there and watch them go. She couldn’t believe it. “And what about the screams?” he’d said. And now he was acting as if nothing had happened. He’d totally blindsided her, and now he was leaving. “Have you heard those, too?”
She started after him, but suddenly noticed the clock. Those kids from her class would be here any second to pick her up, and she wasn’t halfway ready.
Damn. Why did I ever agree to study with them? She’d never be able to concentrate. She’d never be able to come up with any ideas. Not now. Not after what had happened to her today, not after what Etienne had just said.
Who is this guy?
She barely managed to change clothes before a horn blared from the driveway, sending her reluctantly downstairs.
“Hey!” Parker exclaimed. “A woman who’s actually on time. You paying attention, Ash?”
Parker sat behind the wheel of a gleaming red convertible—a BMW, Miranda recognized at once—with Ashley perched next to him, and Roo smoking a cigarette in the backseat. Etienne was leaning against the car, head lowered, arms crossed on Parker’s door. As Miranda got closer, he reached casually for Roo’s cigarette, took a drag, then handed it back again. Gage was nowhere to be seen.
“Mosquito bait.” Scooting over, Roo stared at Miranda’s bare legs. “You should’ve worn jeans.”
“Her shorts are fine,” Ashley argued. “I brought bug spray.”
Roo had added more makeup, Miranda noticed—more black around the eyes, a black outline around the lips—and the black hair with its purple streaks was now gathered into a strange, twisted configuration on top of her head. Miranda tried not to stare, but she couldn’t help it. As Roo slid over to make room, Miranda was taken with the girl’s exotic eyes—their pale color of soft, smoky green. Heavy-lidded eyes, daunting in their boldness, yet, at the same time, distant . . . almost dreamy. It was unsettling to look into those eyes. Miranda wondered if it was unsettling for everyone.
“—we’ll see y’all there!”
Startled, Miranda realized that Ashley was talking to Etienne, who’d pulled back from the car. In the next second, Parker had revved the engine and shot onto the road, making conversation next to impossible.
“Parker, for heaven’s sake, slow down!”
The BMW decelerated smoothly into the speed limit. Parker grinned as Ashley glared at him.
“Quit showing off,” she scolded, then turned her attention to Miranda. “I don’t know how much of St. Yvette you’ve seen so far, but I really think you’ll like the Falls. It’s a ways out of town though, so people sort of forget about it.”
“I don’t.” Roo frowned. “I go there a lot.”
“And that way we sort of forget about you, too.” Parker spoke up. “So it works out great.”
Determined, Ashley kept on. “There’s hardly ever anybody out there. That’s why we like it so much.”
“Well, that and the poisonous swamp. And the man-eating diamondback water snakes. Don’t forget those.” In the rearview mirror, Parker’s eyes widened dramatically. “And then one day . . . the new girl in town went off to the Falls with her friends.” His voice deepened, horror-movie style. “And she was never seen again.”
“Parker, will you stop? That’s not funny.”
Though Parker was laughing, Miranda didn’t think it was funny either—especially since she’d just suspected them of trying to terrorize her. Not that she suspected them anymore— not after Etienne’s disturbing comment—but then again, what did she really know about these kids? What did she really know about Etienne?
Her thoughts grew darker and anxious. Mom said we’d be safe here in St. Yvette; Mom said our lives would be normal. But that was before I knew about Grandpa, before I heard that voice and those screams in the night—
“—the Falls,” Ashley was explaining once more. “Closer to the water than it used to be. I wish they’d fix it so it wouldn’t flood.”
This time Miranda did her best to focus. “So . . . it’s like, a waterfall?”
“No.” Roo exhaled a stream of smoke. “It’s like, a cemetery.”
“A real cemetery?”
“I told you this was a bad idea.” Taking a last puff, Roo tossed the cigarette. “I told you it would freak her out too much.”
“I didn’t say I was freaked out. I just asked if it was a real cemetery.”
“Actually, it’s a park and a cemetery—” Ashley began, but Roo cut her off.
“There was a big battle here during the Civil War. And afterward, there were lots of dead Yankee soldiers who couldn’t be identified. So when nobody claimed their bodies, the town built a cemetery for them.” She paused, chewed thoughtfully on a short, black fingernail. “Originally, it was called Site of the Fallen Union. But over the years, it got shortened to just the Falls.”
“And therein lies the irony!” Parker grinned. “Because, as we all know, it wasn’t the Union that ended up falling.”
Straining forward, Roo tilted the rearview mirror so that Parker’s face disappeared from view. He calmly readjusted it.
“There’s so much Civil War stuff here in St. Yvette,” Ashley said. “Especially on the Brickway. Did you know that practically everything on the Brickway is over two hundred years old?”
Miranda swept windblown hair from her eyes. “I think Aunt Teeta mentioned something about that.”
Aunt Teeta had mentioned quite a lot of things about St. Yvette, but Miranda had paid little attention. She’d never been particularly interested in history—not of where she’d lived before, or anyplace else. But one thing she’d learned in her short time here was that these townspeople were fiercely proud and protective of their heritage. And they never seemed to grow tired of talking about it.
“The Brickway goes in a circle,” Ashley explained. “About a mile long from start to finish, with—how many buildings?” Glancing at Roo but getting no help, she guessed. “Fifteen? Twenty?”
Miranda made a supreme effort to be polite. “All I know is that it’s a street made out of bricks, and it’s about a block away from Aunt Teeta’s house.”
“Oh, that’s right!” Ashley remembered. “Hayes House is your family’s house! Well, it isn’t actually on the Brickway, but it’s still considered part of the Historic District. We have a really nice museum here—it’s run by the Historical Society. And it has guidebooks and brochures and all kinds of information. And Roo and I were thinking—”
“You were thinking,” Roo corrected, though Ashley ignored her.
“—we were thinking the Brickway might be the perfect place to put your Ghost Walk.”
“It’s not my—” Miranda began once again, but Ashley didn’t even slow down.
“So if each of us took a few buildings and did some research on them, I’m sure we could find lots of great scary stories, right?”
“The Falls is supposed to be haunted,” Roo said, though she couldn’t have sounded more indifferent about it.
“So much for folklore,” Parker added. “Have any of us ever seen one single ghost in all the times we’ve been there?”
“Not all those bodies at the Falls got buried in tombs,” Roo explained. “A lot of Union soldiers were dumped in shallow graves, or mass graves—and there’s no telling how many ended up in the bayou. There were probably hundreds never even found at all. I mean, they couldn’t have picked up every body part lying around.”
“So be careful, Miranda,” Parker warned. “You might hear a whole lot of little phantom feet marching around there.”
“Ewww!” Ashley jerked back in alarm.
“Ah, don’t worry,” Parker soothed her. “That’s why we always brin
g Roo along. To scare creepy things away.”
Roo shot him a glance. “Then how come you’re still here?”
Without warning the car swerved into the oncoming lane. As the girls screamed, Parker veered back on course and looked immensely pleased with himself.
“Will you quit doing that!” Ashley was furious. “I hate when you do that! Don’t you realize how dangerous it is?”
“Oh, no, Parker. Please. Do it again.” Roo stared grimly at the back of his head. “I just love that sensation of flying through the air and splattering into a tree.”
Parker didn’t seem the least bit contrite. "As I was saying—”
“You’ve said enough. Now quit being a jerk, and keep your eyes on the road.” Still visibly shaken, Ashley twisted around to face the backseat. “The Falls has really gone downhill. It’s not nearly as nice as it used to be. Not at all like the Confederate cemetery in town.”
Roo grimaced. “Hard to believe Rebel Park was once a battlefield. All that suffering and death.”
“I thought you liked suffering and death,” Parker threw back. “I mean . . . you always look like suffering and death.”
“Parker, watch where you’re going !” Ashley’s voice went shrill. “For God’s sake!”
As the speedometer dropped down again, Miranda shut her eyes and clutched the edge of her seat. “So Rebel Park, the one behind Hayes House, was the actual battlefield?”
“I’m not sure.” Ashley considered a moment. “I mean, it was a huge battle. So the park was probably only part of the battlefield.”
Once more, Parker looked in the rearview mirror. “Back then, all this area was farmland and woods and swamps. That’s where most of the fighting happened. The town was pretty much spared—mainly because the Union army used it for their headquarters.”
“Parker’s mom works at the Historical Society.” Roo glanced at Miranda. “He really isn’t that smart.”
Though Miranda had opened her eyes again, she felt edgy and distracted. Something was tugging at the corners of her mind, something vaguely familiar that she couldn’t quite identify.
“—slaughter,” a voice said.
Walk of the Spirits Page 4
