by Sable Hunter
Moving his focus up the steps, he noticed a blur. Riveted, he stared until he could barely make out the figure of a man carrying a video recorder. “What in the world?”
“And over there.” She pointed at the haunted mirror.
Easy turned his attention to the hallway – and sure enough, he could see a woman who seemed to be taking a photograph of herself in the mirror. “They look like…”
“They’re ghosthunters who have passed on. Hunting in death what they couldn’t find in life.” Jewel was amazed. “I’m just not certain why they’re doing it.”
“Do they know they’re dead?”
“I don’t know.” She looked over her shoulder to see who was watching. “Keep an eye out, I want to see if I can get her to talk to me.”
Easy hung back as Jewel moved slowly toward the female apparition.
“Excuse me. Excuse me.” Sally came bustling around the corner. “I’m sorry. You’ll have to leave. We have another tour group scheduled to come through in five minutes.”
“All right. Thanks. We’re leaving.” Seeing Jewel’s reluctant look, he stepped forward to grab her hand. “We can come back soon, if you want.”
“Oh, its’s okay. This just gives me something to think about.” She pooched her lips out in disappointment as they left the house and started across the courtyard.
“As smart as you are, I’m sure you’ll come up with some theories in no time.”
Holding his hand, she gave it a squeeze. “Thanks for coming with me. I know all of this was probably boring for you.”
“Are you kidding?” Easy guided her to his truck, then helped her up once he’d unlocked the door. “Don’t you get it?”
“Get what?”
“I just love to be with you. No matter what we’re doing.” Framing her face, he kissed her lips tenderly.
“Do you mean it?”
“I do. Now, let’s hit the road again. We’ve still got places to go and things to do.” He kissed her again as he buckled her seat belt. “Best of all, I get to go home with you.”
He was right, that was the best part. “Laissez les bon temps rouler.” Let the good times roll. Jewel felt happiness rush through her veins like sparkling champagne.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“So, what happened back there?” Easy asked as he followed Jewel’s directions to head north on 61 and watch for the next turnoff onto the Tunica Trace Byway.
Jewel rubbed the tip of her forefinger over her mouth, her lips still tingling from his kiss. “We saw the real spirits of The Myrtles. People so obsessed with proving the place was haunted, they’re still doing it after death.”
Easy shook his head, trying to make sense of the matter. “I’m sorry, but I think that’s far scarier than anything I’ve seen before.”
“What do you mean?”
He glanced at Jewel with a frown before returning his attention to the road. “Because it shows a lack of understanding and awareness, almost like a goldfish swimming senselessly in circles within a small glass bowl or a cat batting at its reflection. When I’m dead, I don’t want to be trapped in a mindless loop, I want to be able to reason and think.”
Jewel gazed out at the changing landscape. They’d left the flat bogs of South Louisiana behind. Now, they were in the Tunica Hills. Hilly, rugged terrain riddled with creeks and waterfalls. “What happens after death is the greatest mystery of life. The more I learn, the less I seem to know. The spirits of the dead are as diverse in their motives and abilities as people are in this life. Some folks have a purpose, while others live haphazardly. Some people are brilliant, while others can’t find their way out of a wet paper bag.”
This made Easy laugh. “I guess so. Just makes me wonder, that’s all.”
“Me, too. Actually,” Jewel admitted. “I’ve heard so much about The Myrtles. So much about Chloe. And then to find these people who probably came to search for her when they were alive, still trying to find her now that they’ve crossed over themselves is wild.”
Slowing down to make the expected turn, Easy announced with a sigh, “After seeing that, I think I might be having second thoughts about contacting my father.”
“Why would you say that?” She wasn’t in any position to argue with him, but she didn’t want anything she’d done or said to be the thing that changed his mind.
Easy pressed his lips together, taking in the winding road before him. “I’m just afraid he won’t be like I remember him.” He didn’t think he could stand it if his father’s spirit came back in some erratic state.
“Didn’t you tell me your brother thought the guiding light he saw might be your father’s spirit?”
“Well, yea. But Benjen is…” He laughed wryly. “My brother is idealistic in many ways.”
“Tell me about your father, Easy.” Remembering he wanted to apologize to his father about something, Jewel knew this had to be so important to him. Even though she knew talking about this could help him, she also understood too well how hard it could be to dredge up the past.
Easy smiled sadly. “Yuma Blackhawk was bigger than life. Gentle. Strong. And deep. God, the man was so smart. His patience and love for us knew no bounds.” He chuckled softly. “His sense of humor was so dry. I swear, he kept me in stiches. Most of the time, I was the only one who got what he was trying to say. He always said we were on the same wave length.”
“He sounds wonderful.”
“Oh, he was.” Easy slowed down to let a car pull into the road from a side street. “How he loved my mother was a thing of beauty.” He tapped on the steering wheel as if making a point. “I’d give anything – anything – to have a relationship like that someday.”
The silent moment after that hung between them like a fragile bubble.
“I hope you do.” Jewel felt her insides twist as she saw the same vision she’d seen when she read his cards the first day. Rubbing a hand over her eyes, she forced the image away. “Sounds like you had a good relationship with him.” She couldn’t help but wonder what he would have to apologize about.
“We did until…he died.”
When his voice broke – Jewel knew. She felt every bit of his sorrow. His grief. His anguish.
His guilt.
“Easy…”
She was about to tell him he didn’t have to talk about it when he began to speak.
“I killed him, Jewel.”
“What? No.” She would have known this. Read this. Seen this. “You couldn’t have.” At the same moment she protested his innocence, the scene from his mind played inside of hers. The eighteen-wheeler plowing into the side of the pickup truck, pushing it through the intersection, straight into a concrete light pole.
“I did. His death was my fault.”
The soft desperate whisper coming from Easy’s lips brought tears to Jewel’s eyes. “You called him to come after you.”
“Right. My truck wouldn’t start.” He cursed softly. “The kicker is…I disobeyed him. I was supposed to take Benjen home right after football practice. Instead, I met some kids at an arcade. Got into a fight over a girl. Some hothead messed with my truck.”
“Easy, you can’t blame yourself.”
“Oh, yes, I can!” He raised his voice. “If I’d done as he asked, he wouldn’t have been on the road. He wouldn’t have been at that intersection. At that moment!”
“Oh, love.” She reached over to touch his arm. “Please don’t do this to yourself.”
“I can’t help it,” Easy confessed. “I’m responsible for my father’s death and I never got the chance to tell him I’m sorry.
And this was why he wanted to apologize. “I’ll give you that chance.”
“But…” His mind went back to the disturbing scene at The Myrtles.
Jewel licked her lips, thinking quickly. “Get me the medicine cord and let me do a reading.” She could contact his father first, make sure doing this for Easy wouldn’t hurt him more than help.
“Then…you’d know?”
<
br /> “Yes. I’d know what to expect.” She prayed she could do as she promised.
“If I could just make peace with him, treasure.”
Hearing the regret in his voice, she wanted to relieve him of every burden. Jewel didn’t say so, not aloud, but she felt the person Easy needed to make peace with the most – was himself.
Without intending to do so, Jewel found herself sharing something of herself. “Do you want to know about my father?”
“Frank Baptiste,” he repeated the name he remembered from the day they met.
“Yes. Franklin Seymour Baptiste. Teacher. Explorer. Dreamer.”
Easy brightened a bit. “He sounds interesting. You told me you were close to him. Right?”
“Yes. Even after my parents divorced, he built his house to stay close to me.” A giggle escaped her lips. “Living next door to his ex-wife was a sacrifice, believe me.”
“What did he do for a living?”
Jewel sobered. “Ah, here’s the rub. The cause of my parent’s divorce. Ultimately, the reason for his death.”
“His occupation?”
This wasn’t something Jewel talked about – ever. She hadn’t even confided this with Anne. While Hazel’s situation had been front and center on all of her neighbors’ radar, most people in the sleepy little Southern town of Thibodaux didn’t know about her father’s spiral from respect to ridicule. No, her father’s drama had played out on a much bigger stage – academia. “My dad was head of Biological Sciences at LSU.”
“A professor? Dang. No wonder you’re so smart.”
Jewel scoffed. “Please. I just retain facts well. The special talents I have are suspect at best.”
“So, how did his job cause problems? Was it the commute? The hours away from home?” Easy could remember how thankful his mother always seemed to have Yuma close at hand. The hours of a rancher might be long, but he was always near if needed.
“No. He had an apartment in Baton Rouge and when I was very small, we stayed with him during the week and came home on weekends.”
Easy could see a dazed look on Jewel’s face, as if she were facing truths she hadn’t considered in a long while. “So, what was it about his occupation that caused problems?”
Jewel exhaled and blindly studied the dusty pattern of rain and bug splatters on the windshield in front of her. “Frank was fascinated with the unknown. His penchant for solving a mystery is probably the reason he decided to court Hazel Savoy, initially.” She couldn’t help but laugh at the thought. “Mother always said he wanted to study her like a bug under a microscope.”
“Well, if she was half as fascinating as you…”
Jewel reached out and playfully slapped him on the thigh. “Anyway, in addition to his work as a zoologist, Frank had a consuming hobby. He was obsessed with proving the existence of…certain legendary creatures.”
“Like what? Bigfoot?”
With a sigh, Jewel nodded. “Exactly. Bigfoot. Nessie. Although, Frank was more focused on local lore. A bipedal creature living in the honey island swamp. The rougarou, a werewolf like creature. Even sightings of pterosaurs, giant prehistoric birds.”
“Merciful mother…” Easy breathed. “That sounds amazing. Incredible. As a boy, I was always fascinated with such things.” He grinned big and slapped his thigh. “I’d give my eyeteeth to see his research.”
“You can.” Despite the pain the discussion caused her, she enjoyed seeing him excited about something. Especially in light of their previous conversation about his father. “I have everything stored in the attic.”
Easy looked puzzled. “So, if this was just a hobby, what was the problem?”
“The study of such matters is considered to be a pseudoscience known as cryptozoology, one that doesn’t garner much respect. Dad didn’t conduct his hobby in secret. He was naturally a grandiose individual. Frank celebrated his research and any findings he managed to acquire. As his reputation as a cryptozoologist grew, his reputation as a man of science suffered.”
“Did he lose his job?”
“At first, he just lost his chair, the head of department status. His peers and the Board of Regents all asked him to back off the extracurricular research – but he wouldn’t. After a lot of back and forth, Dad was let go from the university. He tried to use his former connections to get some research grants, but the funding soon dried up.”
“Did this stop him?”
“No, it didn’t.” Jewel saw the entrance for the prison up ahead. “We’re here.”
Easy put on his blinker, but he didn’t drop the subject. “What happened to him?”
“Oh, he didn’t stop his work. In fact, he pursued it even more vehemently. Using his savings. Taking out loans. Mortgaging the house. He would take these extended trips – up to the Pacific northwest to hang glide over a wilderness area with an infrared camera hunting Sasquatch. Trips to Scotland to take part in an international team effort to check DNA from the waters of Loch Ness. Even though Mom and Dad were divorced, they fought like cats and dogs over it. Hazel felt like he was throwing his life away over a nonsensical dream.”
Slowing down, Easy made for the public entrance to park near the rodeo arena. “I’m surprised by your mother’s outlook, considering her own beliefs and interests.”
Jewel shrugged. “She fully supported his desire to search for these creatures. Like you mentioned, Hazel’s view of the world wasn’t exactly run of the mill. What she blamed my father for was putting himself in the public eye. She thought he ought to continue his research, but not seek publicity for his theories.” Letting out a sigh, she picked up her purse from the floorboard. “Ironic, considering the scandal she later became embroiled in.”
After finding a parking spot, Easy cut the engine. “Their struggles colored your world. This is why you isolate yourself, isn’t it?”
“I’m sure. We’re both a product of our upbringing – every child is.”
She sat still while Easy came around to open the door for her. “We’ll table that discussion for now, but I still want to see your father’s work – if you’ll let me.”
“Okay.” Jewel took his hand as they began to walk toward one of the guard stations to gain admittance to the prison. “I think Frank would’ve enjoyed and encouraged your interest. He liked nothing better than sitting someone down and introducing them to the possibility of wonders still undiscovered in our world.”
“Good.” Easy turned his attention to their surroundings. “Well, this wasn’t exactly what I was expecting.” As they neared the prison grounds a live band was playing Leonard Skynard. “Do you think the musicians are inmates?”
Jewel leaned her shoulder against his, feeling closer to him than she’d felt to anyone in a long time. “Almost certainly. From what I’ve read, everything we’ll see today will be the inmate’s contribution – food, crafts, music, not to mention the rodeo itself.”
Easy nodded as they wove their way through the crowd. He was fascinated by everything he saw. As they approached the guard tower, he could see signs through the gate advertising different foods: muffulettas, po-boys, gumbo, pralines, and fried Coco-Cola. “How in the heck do you fry soda?”
Jewel smiled at his confused expression. “I think it’s cola flavored batter that’s deep-fried, then topped with cola syrup and whip cream.”
“Sounds delicious.” He licked his lips. “Now, tell me what you know about this place, Miss Tour Guide.”
Jewel huffed a protest, but she didn’t deny his request. “This prison has the reputation of being the toughest in the nation. As you could see on the way in, it’s located in the Tunica hills in a big bend of the river. The Mississippi borders the prison on three sides and it’s protected, not only by an electric fence, but by bears, gators, and guards leading hybrid wolf-dogs.”
“Dang, talk about deterrents.”
“Right. Angola has always been called ‘the farm’, because that’s how it functions. Eighteen thousand acres, bigger than Manhattan Islan
d, and most of the acreage is cultivated to produce almost five million pounds of vegetables a year.”
“I guess that cuts down on their food bill.”
Easy was surprised to find the security at the guard gate to be light. No pat-down. A young, well-endowed woman wearing a T-shirt that read ‘Angola. A gated community.’ studied them a moment, told Easy to turn around, then they were motioned past the razor-wire fence. “Enjoy your stay,” they were told as the woman handed them each a program.
“Well, I never,” Jewel huffed.
“What’s wrong?”
“Did you see how she was checking you out?”
Easy laughed, enjoying her little show of jealousy. “Nope. Didn’t notice a thing.” He led Jewel around a puddle left by an early morning rain, sniffing the air to detect the scent of livestock, leather, and cotton candy. “There’s a lot of people here today.”
“I think every event is always sold-out,” Jewel muttered as they moved slowly, flanked by people of all ages. Small children were darting around, their antics fueled by a sugar high and excitement. Ahead of her she could see several booths where inmates were hawking their wares. “Let’s check out the crafts.”
“Okay.” Easy guided her near, keeping a protective arm around her waist. One grizzled old man showed them a handmade purse made from alligator skin. A younger, Hispanic fellow tried to sell them a carved wooden jewelry box. “Maybe on the way out”, he told them when Jewel made no noise to want anything specific.
“Shall we find our seats?” she asked as they moved in the general direction of the arena.
“Sure, if you don’t want anything to eat now.”
“I’m not hungry, yet. Are you?” she asked as they fell in line to make their way into the stands.
“No. This is just surreal. I’ve always known about the rodeo; it’s been going on for about fifty years and it’s not unique. Both Texas and Oklahoma have been known to have prison rodeos in the past – but this is my first time to experience it. There’s a feeling of…I don’t know…”
“A spectacle? Like gladiator games in ancient Rome?”
