The Reckoning

by Jana DeLeon

  Tears welled up in her eyes and Holt stepped over to her and wrapped his arms around her. “We’re going to figure it out,” he whispered. “I promise you I will not rest until we find Erika.”

  “I won’t rest, either.” Alex held on to him for a bit then released him and swiped her hand across her cheek. “What are you going to do about Mathilde, then? Finding Bobby’s leg may have put her in danger.”

  “If Mathilde knew anything that could help us, we already had an opportunity to get it out of her at the hospital. Any threat she posed for the killer has already been exposed. If he goes after Mathilde, it would change her status from suspect to victim as far as the killer knows.”

  “What about the barrette? If we can get Mathilde onto the island for the full moon tomorrow night and you give her back the barrette, she may be able to tell us where Erika is.”

  He stared. “You can’t possibly believe that.”

  Alex threw her hands up in the air and flopped down on the couch. “I don’t know what I believe anymore. If there’s a logical explanation for everything, then what’s yours for the crows or the doll?”

  Holt walked over to the couch and took a seat beside her. “Just because I don’t have one doesn’t mean there isn’t one. But the last thing we need is for you to start believing in curses and spooks and magic.”

  “Why? It’s the only thing we haven’t tried, and we’re probably the last people in the parish to buy into it. Maybe that’s the problem.”

  Holt blew out a breath. “I can’t believe we’re even having this conversation. What’s going on, Alex? Why are you suddenly willing to believe in the old ways? Mathilde Tregre is a scared old woman who was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  “No. Mathilde Tregre is much more than a scared old woman.” Her mind flashed back to that day…to what she and Sarah saw.

  Holt took her hand and squeezed. “Tell me why you say that,” he said softly.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Alex knew it was time. Time to free herself of something she’d carried around for far too many years. Something she’d never been able to come to terms with. If anyone could help her put things in perspective, it would be Holt.

  “Sarah and I weren’t supposed to go to the island, but you know how Sarah is. She nagged and wheedled and made it sound like an adventure, until I couldn’t say no.”

  Holt nodded. Sarah’s tenacity was a well-known fact among her family and friends.

  “We told her mom we were going to a friend’s house to play, but instead we snuck out to old man LeBlanc’s cabin and took his boat.”

  Holt smiled. “You stole a boat?”

  “We brought it back, and besides, he was on vacation and not using it, anyway. I prefer ‘borrowed.’”

  “Most criminals do.”

  “Well, presumed criminal acts aside, we took the boat into the swamp. Jenny Breaux had lifted a map to the island from her brother’s room weeks before, and we’d made a copy. It was fun at the time—like finding a treasure map. I guess I never really thought Sarah would want to go or that she’d get me to agree to it, but as usual she managed.”

  “Was the map correct?”

  “More or less. The water was low that summer, and some of the channels that were marked on the map were no longer there, but we managed to work our way around to the same points on the map.

  “I remember it like it was yesterday,” she continued. “We rounded that last corner and the island was right there in front of us. A cold chill ran over me when I saw the dolls, just like it did when we pulled up to the island the other day. I tried to get Sarah to turn around, but there was no stopping her.”

  “So you docked?”

  “Yes. The pier was in decent shape then, so we tied the boat off and climbed out. I tried not to look at the dolls as we ran down the pier and onto the bank, but I could feel their eyes on me.”

  “You know they’re just toys. I agree that they look creepy, but they can’t hurt you.”

  Alex shook her head. “There’s something about them. Something that doesn’t feel right. And why are they there? There’s tons of legends and rumor and speculation, but no one knows why Mathilde’s family started putting the dolls around the island. Most people believe it’s to ward off spirits.”

  “More likely, it’s to ward off anyone nosy enough to want to poke around.”

  “If that’s the case, then I guess it’s worked for the most part.” Alex paused for a moment, trying to collect her thoughts before she told the next part of the story. “It was starting to cloud up by the time we docked. I was afraid we’d get caught in a storm, but Sarah promised if I’d spend ten minutes looking around, that she’d leave.”

  She stared at the wall for a moment, that long-ago day running through her mind like a film reel. “The path to the cabin was wider then and easily passable, or maybe it was a different path than the one that’s there now. Either way, we hurried down it and crouched in the bushes at the edge of the clearing.

  “We could hear someone inside moaning, then there was a blood-curdling scream—like someone being murdered. I wanted to run, but I was frozen in place. I heard Sarah suck in a breath that she never blew out. Then the swamp went completely silent, and the only thing I heard was the sound of my own heartbeat—like a bass drum booming so hard it made my chest hurt.”

  Holt squeezed her hand.

  “I finally got control of myself and was just about to pull on Sarah to leave when Mathilde came out of the cabin. She was younger then, but her hair was already turning silver.”

  She took a breath and slowly blew it out. “She was dragging a body behind her.”

  Holt sat upright on the couch and stared. “A human body?”

  “Yes. It was wrapped in a blanket that she was pulling, but one arm was hanging out, dragging along in the dirt.” Alex crossed her arms in front of chest and shuddered. “When she stopped behind the cabin, I realized there was a fresh grave.”

  “She buried the body behind her cabin?”

  Alex nodded. “It took her a bit to drag it into the hole, but she managed. Then she picked up a burlap bag that was sitting next to the hole and pulled out a doll—the same doll that Sarah found in Erika’s room.”

  “You’re certain it was the same?”

  “Positive. Mathilde held the doll up and did some sort of chant, then dropped the doll into the grave with the body. Then she pulled a square piece of wood laying next to the grave, into the hole.”

  “The top to a homemade casket?”

  “That’s what it looked like. She shoved a reed in the middle of the hole and it stood up straight out of the grave. Then she started shoveling dirt onto the grave.”

  “You waited there the entire time?”

  “Yes, and it felt like forever, but looking back, it couldn’t have been that long. I don’t think the hole was very deep.”

  Holt shook his head. “No wonder you were scared.”

  “Oh, that’s not the scary part. Not at all.”

  Holt stared. “Then what is?”

  “When she finished covering the grave, she dropped a rock with a piece of string tied around it down the reed. Then she tied a bell to the other end of the string and attached it to the top of the reed. I wanted to run but I knew she’d hear us if we made a run for it. We crouched there, not moving, barely breathing and prayed that she went back inside the cabin so we could get away.”

  “That is a situation most adults couldn’t have handled. I can’t imagine how you and Sarah managed….”

  “I guess we had a guardian angel watching over us. I thought once she finished the grave, she’d leave, but instead, she sat on an old stump next to the grave. She was waiting for something. I could feel it.”

  Alex looked Holt directly in the eyes. “And then
the bell started to ring.”

  Holt’s eyes widened. “Maybe the wind—”

  “There wasn’t a breath of air, and besides, I could see the string moving down the reed…tight, like it was being pulled.

  “Mathilde started removing the dirt from the grave, and pulled the top off the coffin.” Alex rose from the couch and paced once across the living room and came back to stand in front of Holt.

  “Then she helped the dead person climb out of the grave.”

  Holt jumped up off the couch and stared at her. “No way!”

  “I swear on everything that’s holy, an old woman climbed out of that grave, clutching that creepy doll.”

  “But that’s impossible.”

  “You think I don’t know that? Why do you think I’ve never told anyone what we saw? I’m a psychiatrist. People didn’t believe you when you claimed to see a very real human leaving your house after your father’s murder. What in the world would people think if I spread that story around?”

  He sighed. “They’d think you were crazy.”

  “Exactly, and that’s a chance I’m just not going to take. I know what I saw. Yes, I was scared half to death, but it was broad daylight and I had a clear, reasonably close view. That woman came back from the dead.”

  Holt ran one hand through his hair and flopped back down on the couch. “I don’t even know what to say. That’s the most outlandish thing I’ve ever heard.”

  Alex bit her lower lip and sat beside him. “But you believe me?”

  He looked her straight in the eye. “Of course I believe you.”

  “But you think there has to be a logical explanation.”

  “Don’t you?”

  She blew out a breath and stared at the wall for a minute. “I used to think so, and I wanted one.”

  “But you don’t now?”

  “I don’t know.” She looked back at Holt. “What if Mathilde does have some sort of power that can’t be explained by science? Then maybe tomorrow night, during the full moon, she can find Erika.”

  Holt studied her for a couple of seconds, and she could tell he wanted to discount her suggestion, to tell her she was grasping at straws, but empathy must have won out because instead he wrapped his arms around her and held her close.

  “If you want to let her try,” he said, “I’ll make it happen.”

  * * *

  THE KILLER SLID BEHIND the hedges, looking down the street at Sarah’s house. Every blind was drawn, but he knew they were in there, wondering when he would strike next. He looked at the unmarked trooper parked across the street. Did they really think he was so foolish that he didn’t recognize a cop when he saw one?

  He hadn’t managed all these years to fly below law enforcement radar by being a fool. And now, he was poised to spend the rest of his life in the comfort he deserved.

  And for that, he’d do anything required.

  His boss was getting anxious and so was he. The fake sheriff and nosy broad had come too close for comfort, and he was going to have to eliminate that threat, as well. He just needed a way to cast the blame on someone else.

  Once the old woman was back on the island, he’d be able to set everything in motion.

  * * *

  ALEX POURED TWO CUPS of coffee and carried them to the breakfast table where Sarah sat. Holt had left for New Orleans intending to check on his truck and then pick up Mathilde to bring her back to Vodoun. After he had her review her statement and look at some pictures at the sheriff’s station, they were going to take her back to the island. Holt wanted to search for any evidence that might tell them more about Bobby’s murder or Erika’s location, and then they’d wait for the sun to go down and the full moon to rise so that Mathilde could do a reading.

  Sarah poured sugar into her coffee and stirred as Alex took a seat across from her. “You’re letting me drink coffee?”

  “At this point, a little caffeine is the least of our problems.”

  “This is all so surreal,” Sarah said. “If you’d told me before today that all this would be happening to me, I’d say you were crazy.”

  “It’s all quite unbelievable, but unfortunately, all very real.”

  Sarah sniffed and rubbed her nose with her finger. Her eyes were still puffy and red from crying, and the circles underneath grew darker with each day that passed. “I still can’t believe Bobby’s gone, you know? I know I filed for divorce, but I think I always hoped he’d get his head on straight and we could work things out.”

  Alex reached across the table and squeezed Sarah’s hand. “I know. I always hoped so, too.”

  “I just don’t understand what’s happening.”

  “Neither do I, but we’re going to figure it all out. I promise.”

  Sarah stared at her for a moment, then nodded. “I know you will. I believe in you…and Holt.” She opened her mouth to speak again then hesitated.

  Finally, she said, “Do you really think the witch woman can use magic to determine where Erika is?”

  Alex didn’t have any idea what she thought at this point, but the hopeful sound in Sarah’s voice tugged so hard at her heart that she couldn’t bring herself to tell her cousin that it might all be a big waste of time. “I hope so,” she said finally.

  “What we saw when we were kids…that was real, right?”

  “It was real. I can’t say it was magic or voodoo, but what we saw did happen. That much I’m sure of.”

  Sarah nodded. “How are you and Holt getting along?”

  “Fine. I mean, he’s still as hard-headed and closed off as before, but he’s doing everything he can to find Erika. He’s a good investigator.”

  “You still love him.”

  Alex sat her cup of coffee down and stared at her cousin. “Certainly, seeing him again and working so closely with him has brought back memories, but I don’t…” Even though the words were right there, in her mind and on the tip of her tongue, she couldn’t bring herself to say them.

  “Love him?” Sarah gave her a sympathetic look. “You can keep telling yourself that, but you made a promise a long time ago to never lie to me.”

  Alex sighed. “Yes, I love him. I knew the moment I saw him standing in your house that I’d never stopped. But what difference does that make? Holt’s changed in a lot of ways, but not in the ones that make for a good relationship.”

  “Maybe he just needs more time.”

  “He’s had ten years. If he doesn’t know what he wants by now, then he’s a really poor bet for me. If it wasn’t for Erika’s kidnapping, I wouldn’t even have known he was in Vodoun. That tells me all I need to know.”

  “Oh, honey.” Sarah sighed. “You two are the most stubborn people I know. Almost as bad as me. Promise me that you won’t let pride get in the way if it’s possible for you and Holt to have a future.”

  “Pride? I gave up on pride ten years ago when I begged him not to leave. This isn’t pride. It’s survival.”

  * * *

  HOLT PARKED IN FRONT of the sheriff’s department, and went to open the car door for Mathilde. The old woman frowned as he pulled her door open and waved him away when he extended his hand.

  “I’m not that injured or that old,” she said. “Let’s get this over with. I want to get back to my island. I’m not right when I’m not on my land.”

  Holt wasn’t sure Mathilde was “right” when she was on her land, either, but it didn’t seem like the sort of assessment he should share with her, especially as she’d been complaining all the way from New Orleans to Vodoun about being “held hostage” for so long by the hospital. His conversation with his uncle that morning on the way to New Orleans had been equally as pleasant.

  Despite his uncle’s shock and discomfort at Bobby’s death, he didn’t think it was a good use of “department resou
rces” to play taxi driver, especially when Jasper was still holding on to the idea that Mathilde was the perpetrator. He was equally resistant to the idea that anything more could be found by searching the island. Holt could only imagine what sort of outrage he’d have experienced if he’d told the man Alex’s plan for using voodoo to locate Erika.

  He pushed all that out of his mind and held open the front door of the sheriff’s department for Mathilde to enter. She glared at him as she walked past.

  “Did you find out who that leg belonged to with all that fancy machinery used these days?”

  “Yes. It belonged to the missing girl’s father.”

  Mathilde frowned. “That’s not good.”

  “No. It’s not, and it’s why we need to move fast and why I’m willing to try anything at this point to find Erika.”

  Holt pointed her to a chair in front of his desk and handed her a picture of the dead man from the alley that he’d taken in the hospital morgue. “Have you ever seen this man before?”

  Mathilde studied the picture for a couple of seconds, then shook her head. “Is he the man who took the girl?”

  “We think so, and we think he’s the man who killed her father and dumped the body.”

  “He’s dead?”

  “Yes, but he wasn’t working alone. Someone else was giving the order. That man shot this one and got away, but I overheard them talking about dumping the body.” Holt pulled out a photo of Martin Rommel. “What about this man?”

  Mathilde gave him a disgusted look. “I seen him last time I came to Vodoun for supplies. Catting around with that fancy blond bitch. Young enough to be her son, but she don’t act like a mother toward him. It’s indecent, is what it is.”

  “Have you seen him anywhere near the island?”

  “I ain’t seem him or the bitch, or I’d shoot them both. She’s the one that sent the police after me the first time, with all her tales of the evil witch in the swamp. Made a lot of trouble for me for a lot of years. I got nothing for her or her man.”