by Jana DeLeon
Holt nodded. “Then I’ll get going and let you take care of Sarah. If you need anything, call dispatch, and they’ll get in touch with me.”
Alex followed him down the hall to the front door. He stepped outside, then turned back to face her. “I’m really sorry about all of this,” he said. “I know my uncle and Sarah have their issues, but I promise you my uncle’s beliefs do not interfere with my investigation. I’m doing everything I can to find Erika.”
Alex nodded and he turned and walked to his truck. She watched as he drove down the block in the vanishing sunlight. She didn’t doubt Holt was doing everything he could. He wasn’t the kind of man who took failure lightly—she knew that better than anyone. But Holt didn’t know what she did—that Sarah was telling the truth.
There was no way Bobby would have taken Erika away from Sarah. She was as certain of that as she was of anything. And since it was unlikely Erika had gotten lost in the swamp, Alex knew something very bad had happened to the child.
It was up to her to find out what.
CHAPTER TWO
Holt Chamberlain pulled away from Sarah’s house, a million thoughts running through his head. All but one had to do with Alexandria Bastin. He’d known Alex was on her way to Vodoun when he went to Sarah’s house, and he thought he’d mentally prepared himself for seeing her again. Now that he had, he realized how egotistical he’d been to think he was prepared.
Like holding up a trash can lid to stave off a tidal wave.
Ten years hadn’t taken a single thing away from her. Her face was more mature than the college girl he’d left behind, but still as beautiful as he remembered. Her thick blond hair, a gift from her German mother, had been pulled up on top of her head, but he had no doubt that when released, it would fall in thick waves down her shoulders. And even in her official hospital business suit, he could see her body wasn’t missing a trick. She was walking sexy and still as sharp as they came.
He’d been prepared for his body to react, for his heart to tug a bit when he laid eyes on his first love. But what he’d experienced was a total annihilation of senses. There was no preparation for that, short of death.
All that running and he’d landed back in Vodoun right smack in the middle of the same turmoil he’d been in when he’d made the decision to leave. Time and distance hadn’t changed anything except allowing him to temporarily forget.
And all of that took a backseat to the one thing that had nothing to do with his past with Alex—Sarah’s missing daughter. He couldn’t argue with the logic. Everything he’d found backed up his uncle’s idea that Bobby had kidnapped his daughter and fled to Brazil, but something didn’t feel right to Holt.
Things in Mystere Parish never did.
Something about the stretch of dense swamp that comprised most of the parish was unlike anywhere he’d ever been before, and he’d seen plenty of conflicted places during his military service. Not that Mystere was conflicted. In fact, it appeared to be comprised of small, peaceful towns filled with down-to-earth, law-abiding people. But under that surface of pleasant normalcy, Mystere hid secrets. Some of those secrets eventually rose to the surface.
It was the ones that hadn’t yet that concerned Holt.
Hoping his uncle was right for a change, Holt decided to take another look at Bobby and directed his truck toward the fourplex where Bobby had lived. Bobby taking Erica was the simple answer—the good answer. Holt didn’t want to think about the options until he’d eliminated the most obvious and the safest for the child.
The deputy had taken statements from the people occupying the two front units this afternoon, but the woman who lived directly across from Bobby in the other rear unit hadn’t been home. Maybe she was available now and could fill in some of the gaps.
He was about to pull up in back of the fourplex when his cell phone rang. He checked the display and frowned. His uncle.
Holt’s grandfather had married Lorraine after the death of his first wife, Holt’s paternal grandmother. After several miscarriages, Jasper Conroy had been a surprise baby for Lorraine. He was only two years older than Holt, but he wore the “Uncle” title as proudly as he did his sheriff’s badge. The man’s body might be restricted to bed rest, but it hadn’t stopped his mouth from traveling far and often.
“Uncle Conroy, what can I do for you?”
“Why aren’t you back at the sheriff’s office?”
“I’ve been looking into the Rhonaldo case.”
“There is no Rhonaldo case. Bobby Rhonaldo took that kid from that screaming shrew of a wife and skipped the country. Since we don’t have the time, the manpower or the jurisdiction to chase him to South America, I expect you to be back in the office in ten minutes.”
“To do what, exactly?”
“Whatever I say you need to do. Don’t get belligerent with me, boy. I’m still in charge.”
Holt struggled to control his tongue. His mother had asked this favor of him so that Jasper could continue to draw his salary and not worry about someone poaching his job. Holt figured it was a heck of a lot of aggravation to take for a favor, but he supposed it was a nice thing to do.
Thanks to the business acumen of his late and mostly absentee father, Holt had enough money to last a lifetime, so working for free didn’t bother him at all. But a little consideration wouldn’t be out of line, since Jasper was the only one benefiting from Holt’s time.
“I figured I needed to be thorough on this one, given your history with Sarah,” Holt said. “I wouldn’t want anyone to find a gap in my investigation and use that against you in the next election. If this ends badly, the last thing you need is people saying that if you’d done your job, you could have prevented the death of a six-year-old girl.”
There was dead silence for several seconds and Holt knew his uncle recognized the legitimacy of his words and at the same time was mentally cursing nine ways to Sunday that he had to spend even a moment of time on Sarah Rhonaldo. His mother’s complete and utter disdain for Sarah went far deeper than a long-standing family feud, but Holt had never been able to determine the real cause of the animosity. It was the best-kept secret in Vodoun.
For that matter, it was probably the only secret in Vodoun.
“Fine, then,” Jasper said finally. “Get it over with as fast as possible and put everything you find in the file.”
“And if I find anything that indicates something could have happened to Erika besides Bobby taking her?”
“That’s not going to happen.”
The sound of Jasper slamming the phone down echoed in his ear as he parked. The blinds were open on the unit across from Bobby’s and he could see someone moving around inside. He climbed out of the truck and made his way up the sidewalk, pleased that the neighbor was home and he could finalize this angle of questioning.
The woman who opened the door was young, probably midtwenties, wearing workout clothes and didn’t look overly happy that he’d interrupted her routine. He flashed his badge, and her demeanor immediately shifted as she waved him inside.
“Has something happened to my family?” the woman asked, clearly nervous. “Just tell me and get it over with.”
Holt realized his faux pas and moved to correct it. “I’m sorry to frighten you, Miss, but I’m here to ask you some questions about your neighbor, Bobby Rhonaldo.”
Her shoulders relaxed and she blew out a breath. “Thank God. My parents insisted on retiring in an RV and gallivanting across the country. I remain in a
constant state of worry.”
“Understandable.”
She pulled a bottle of water out of the refrigerator and offered it to him. He shook his head so she twisted the top off the bottle and slid onto a stool at the kitchen counter. “You said you’re here about Bobby?”
“Yes. Did you know him?”
“Not well. I’m a nurse at the clinic and I usually work the night shift, so I’m not awake during normal hours. I introduced myself when he moved in, and I’ve said hello a couple of times when I was coming home from shift and he was leaving for work. That’s about it.”
Holt nodded. “Were you at home when he moved?”
She frowned. “Yeah. That was weird. My shift started at midnight and when I walked out, two guys were loading Bobby’s bed and clothes in a moving truck. I asked about Bobby, but they said he was busy and they’d been paid to move his stuff. They had a key, so I went on to work.”
“You said it was weird, though. Why?”
She flipped the cap over between her fingers for a couple of seconds, then blew out a breath. “This is going to sound stupid, but something didn’t feel right. I mean, they had a key, and I guess if midnight is when you have time to do something, then that’s when you do it. But they…unnerved me, I guess is the best way to put it.
“Look,” she continued, “I’m no wilting daisy. I’ve been living on my own since I was seventeen. Worked my way through college as a nurse’s assistant on the nightshift at a hospital in New Orleans. I’ve seen plenty that would scare the life out of normal people, so for something to bother me is weird.”
“Would you recognize them if you saw them again?”
“I think so.”
“Thanks,” Holt said and handed the woman a card. “If you think of anything else or happen to see the men anywhere, call dispatch and tell them to get in touch with me immediately.”
The woman placed the card on the counter and walked him to the door. “Hey,” she said, as he was about to walk away. “One of the guys had a tattoo on the back of his right hand.”
He stiffened. “Could you tell what it was?”
“It was kinda dark on the sidewalk, but it looked like an eye.”
Holt nodded and walked to his truck, hoping his concern at the woman’s description hadn’t shown on his face. He didn’t think the woman was in any danger and didn’t want her to worry. But Holt had seen that tattoo before.
On the man who’d murdered his father.
CHAPTER THREE
Alex poured herself a cup of coffee and carried it and decaffeinated tea for Sarah over to the breakfast nook table. The drugs had kicked in, so Sarah appeared less hysterical and more focused than she had been earlier, which was a relief to Alex. She needed Sarah’s mind sharp if they were going to find Erika, especially as the police were tapped out on avenues of investigation.
“How are you feeling?” Alex asked, studying her cousin’s face. Some of the color had returned, eliminating the ghostlike look she’d worn earlier. The skin around her eyes was puffy and red from crying, but that was hardly unexpected.
“I’m as good as I’m getting for now.”
“Do you want anything to eat?”
“No. My stomach couldn’t handle it.”
“Okay, but don’t go too long without having something…even dry toast.”
Sarah looked up and gave her a small smile. “Yes, mom.”
Alex slid into the chair across from Sarah and pulled a small pad of paper out of her purse to take notes, then changed her mind and reached for her recorder. “Do you mind if I tape this? I want to make sure I get everything.”
“That’s fine,” Sarah said and looked at her, a guilty expression on her face. “I’m sorry for not telling you Holt was back in town.”
“I was bound to hear about it sooner or later,” Alex said, trying to sound as casual as possible.
“I guess. I’d hoped that he’d figure out what he was doing next and be gone before you crossed paths.”
“Well, it’s happened and no one shouted or cried. It’s been ten years, and we’ve both moved on with our lives, but I appreciate your concern.”
“We’re cousins. Looking out for each other is what we do, right?”
Alex reached across the small table and squeezed Sarah’s hand. “Absolutely. Have you told your mother?”
“No. She’s not…good. Not since Dad died.”
“I’ll call the nurse’s aide tomorrow and talk to her about your mom’s care. Let’s keep this between us for now.” Sarah’s mother had been in a nursing home for several years battling lung cancer, but ever since the death of her husband she’d seemed to give up entirely.
“Are you ready to talk?”
Sarah nodded and Alex slipped a blank tape into the recorder and turned it on. “Start with what you told me earlier, so I can get it on tape, okay?”
Her cousin recounted the details she’d provided earlier with Alex interrupting to clarify names and times. When she was done, Alex said, “When you called me, you said the witch took Erika. What did you mean?”
Sarah stared blankly over Alex’s shoulder and out the window. “You know what I meant.”
Alex felt a trickle of fear run up her spine. “That stuff about the witch was all a story. You know…something parents made up to keep us kids from playing in the swamp.”
“Was it, really?” Sarah locked her gaze on Alex. “Do you know that for certain? You saw the same thing on that island as I did. Are you going to deny that?”
A chill passed over Alex and she crossed her arms and leaned on the table. “I’m not denying what we saw, nor that it scared the life out of me. But the police never found any proof that the woman who lived there took those kids.”
“The witch that lived there,” Sarah corrected. “The police didn’t want to believe.”
“Believe what?” Alex blew out a breath. “That a witch on an island in a swamp kidnapped children and used them as sacrifices in a voodoo ritual? Of course, they didn’t want to believe something like that, but it wouldn’t stop them from investigating. There was never any evidence that those kids had been on the island.”
“The evidence was burned in the ceremony. You know something about the old ways, Alex, even if your current life has you locked into science. You know the swamps of Mystere Parish are full of people who practice black arts and have for hundreds of years.”
Alex threw up her hands. “Even if it were all true, what makes you think Erika is on the island?”
“Because.” Sarah rose from the table and walked into the kitchen. She climbed onto a step stool to open a cabinet above the refrigerator and pulled out something in a brown paper bag. “I found this in her room, hidden under her bed.”
She opened the bag and pulled out a doll with blond hair and blue eyes and placed it on the table. The blood rushed to Alex’s head and she gripped the edge of the table to steady herself as a wave of dizziness washed over her.
It couldn’t be. Not after all this time.
“Where did she get this?” she asked, struggling to maintain a calm tone.
“Not in any store, that’s for sure. I looked it up online. That doll hasn’t been manufactured in over thirty years.”
“Did you ask her?”
“Of course I asked. After I had a heart attack and then managed to regain control. She said she found it in the backyard at the edge of the swamp, but she was lying.”
Alex stared. “How do you know?”
Sarah shrugged. “She’s my kid. I know when she’s lying. I pushed the issue, but she stuck to her story.”
“Have you told her about…I mean warned her in a way she could understand?
”
“I told her an old, evil woman lived in the swamp and that it wasn’t safe for little girls to go into the swamp without an adult. She’s always stayed away before. I checked all her shoes and her rubber boots, but there was no sign she’d been in the swamp or tried to wash away the evidence.”
Alex’s mind raced, trying to absorb everything Sarah said…trying to make sense of all of it. “When did you find the doll?”
“Three days ago.” Sarah slumped back into her chair. “And then there was the crow.”
“What crow?”
“It was on the clothesline outside Erika’s bedroom window every morning for the last week when I went in to wake her. I closed the blinds and went outside to shoo it away, but every morning, it was right back in place.”
Sarah shivered. “Last night, I heard a noise out back. I looked out the kitchen window and could make out the outline of the crow just sitting there. Like it was watching her, even though the blinds were closed.” She looked straight at Alex. “You know it’s an omen.”
“No.” Alex shook her head. “I don’t know any such thing.”
“What about those birds that fell from the sky last week? It was all over the news. Hundreds of them, Alex, lying everywhere in Mystere Parish.”
“There are theories—”
Sarah waved a hand, cutting her off. “I know all about the theories, and I know what Sam LeBlanc down at Animal Control told me—that the vet couldn’t find anything wrong with any of the birds he autopsied. They’re lying so they don’t cause a panic.”
“They just haven’t figured out the reason, yet,” Alex said, forbidding her mind to wander into Sarah’s realm of thinking.
“We have to go out there,” Sarah whispered.
“No!”
“Why not?” Sarah challenged. “If there’s really no danger, as you suggest, then what’s the harm?”
“Because the swamp contains all sorts of dangers that aren’t mystical. You know that as well as anyone. Don’t play stupid now. I won’t listen to it.”
