The Unforgiven

by Heather Graham

  “Yup. I’ve got a Bureau car.”

  “Good. Then, as we drive, you can explain to me why we don’t just ask the murder victims who the hell murdered them!” he said, and he gestured for Axel to lead the way.

  He’d accepted it.

  He was joining his old friend, Axel.

  And a ghost.

  Okay, never mind. He hadn’t really accepted it. Not yet.

  “You’re coming with us?” he asked her.

  “For now, yes. Then I’ve a little strolling about town to do, see what I can find out,” she said.

  “You have a name?” he asked her.

  She smiled. “Mabel. Mabel Greely. Nice to make your acquaintance.”

  “Come on,” Axel said. “The three of us need to have a good conversation, and then, well, Adam will be waiting, and we’ll really get this all geared up.”

  Dan looked from Axel to Mabel. “Forgive me my rudeness, Miss Greely. But if you’re real and you’re a ghost, why don’t we just ask the victims who killed them?”

  “Because they didn’t stay,” Mabel said softly. She looked at Axel. “This poor boy. He’s so lost. Much better when people realize what they can see as children. They’re so much more accepting. We’ve so much to teach you!” she told Dan.

  He felt a strange chill that was also oddly warm at the same time as she gently drew her hand down his cheek.

  It couldn’t be real.

  Apparently, it was.

  * * *

  “Katie, my name is Adam Harrison. I have a fancy title with the FBI, but I’m not a special agent. Well, I’m an assistant director, but my talent isn’t in finding murderers. My talent is in finding the people who have special abilities and can find murderers. I head a unique group called the Krewe of Hunters.” He hesitated, aware she was unnerved by him and staring straight ahead as he talked. “Katie, your dad could see the dead.”

  “No. My father never said anything about seeing the dead. And I never saw him talking to the dead.”

  “You wouldn’t have known.”

  She turned to stare at him. “I was young when my parents died. Not stupid. I was fifteen! If he knew about this—”

  “You do have the gift,” Adam Harrison said, sitting back.

  She sighed. “I never saw my parents. If it’s such a gift, I would have seen my parents.”

  “Some people go on, some stay. I wish I could explain why.”

  “Well, you’d think they might have stayed. Instead, my first experience was with an old pirate!”

  He smiled. “Well, was the old pirate helpful?” he asked.

  She bit lightly into her lower lip.

  What the hell was this man getting at?

  “Yes,” she said honestly. “The old pirate probably saved my life.”

  “So there, you see?”

  “I don’t see anything at all!” Katie exclaimed. “Anita Calabria was also a friend—a dear friend. She never appeared to me.”

  “So who does?” he asked quietly.

  She had turned up St. Ann, not really paying attention to what she was doing, and then made another turn onto Bourbon Street. They were about to pass the LaLaurie Mansion, one-time home and torture house of Madame LaLaurie and her husband, Doctor LaLaurie. The couple had found infamy by torturing their slaves and performing medical experiments on them. A cook had set fire to the house while chained to a stove, unconcerned with dying if she could only bring an end to the monstrous things going on in the house.

  “Rose!” she said, pointing to the house. “Rose, she died as a beautiful young girl. She loves walking down to Royal Street and looking at all the styles at Fifi Mahony’s, a wig shop and hair salon. The wigs are incredibly clever and wonderful. And Rose...”

  Her voice trailed. She looked over at Adam Harrison. “My father had this?” she whispered. “He had it, and I have it, and yet...”

  “Your parents loved you. They were good people. I don’t have all the answers. I knew your father and mother, and they would have wanted to stay by you, I’m sure. But most of the time, the dead do go on. They were together. I don’t have all the answers. In fact, I see my son, who died when he was a teenager. But... I’m lucky in that. And it wasn’t right away... It took practice, from both of us. I don’t know how any of this works. I just know sometimes it does.”

  “So you’re here to solve the murders?”

  He smiled and shrugged. “No. I’m a horrible investigator. But I do know how to put the right people together.”

  “The right people?” She looked at him warily. He couldn’t mean Dan Oliver. He wasn’t any kind of law enforcement anymore. He was a hack. A private eye!

  “I have an agent down here.”

  “Ah,” she said, relieved.

  “He’s currently trying to connect with the former FDLE agent who worked the case in Orlando, Dan Oliver.”

  Katie winced. “Listen—”

  “Katie, you know you’re going to be obsessed with this. And...”

  He was staring out to the left. They were passing Lafitte’s Bar. She wasn’t sure she was leading her poor mule anywhere. Adam Harrison wasn’t with her for a tour.

  “Mr. Harrison, I believe you knew my father. And that you care about what is happening. But I can only take your word you’re who you say you are.”

  He reached into his jacket pocket, producing a wallet-size folder with his credentials.

  “Okay, let me start over again. Dan Oliver tried his hardest to prove my father’s best friend—a man who lost his best friend, his wife, and his best friend’s wife on the same day—is a horrific killer. Now, I believe whoever is really doing this probably knows about George and delights in seeing him suffer, but while Dan Oliver wants to see no one else but George as the killer, I want nothing to do with the man.”

  “Interesting. Where are we now?” Adam inquired.

  “Oh!” Katie said. She’d led her mule and the carriage through the Quarter and to Rampart Street. She was heading back to the stables.

  Well, maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea. It was time to give Sarah a break. Mules were smart creatures, in spite of the fact that the animals, able to handle the Louisiana heat better than horses, were often considered to be their lesser cousins.

  She loved Sarah, and Sarah returned the affection.

  “I guess I was randomly heading home,” Katie said.

  “Ah, yes, you have a house right next to the stables where the carriages and mules are kept by Mr. Monty Trudeau.” She glanced back at him, and he shrugged. “I’m not a great investigator, but I’m a fine director, and I am with the FBI,” he told her. “I’d love to see the stables and where you live.”

  “Fine.”

  She had to hop out on the street to open the large gates that led into the Trudeau Carriage Company. But as she entered, she saw Monty come out of the office building that sat between the large enclosure where the carriages were kept and the stables.

  “Hey!” he greeted her.

  Monty was a big man, tall and broad-shouldered and a bit round. He had a thick head of brown hair that matched his full beard. Both were graying and long and a bit shaggy. Monty reminded her of a bear, but a big, lovable, huggable bear.

  “Hey!” she called. “I hope it’s okay I brought a visitor. Adam is an old friend of my dad’s. I figured I’d drive back with him and just walk next door to get my car.”

  “Sure. Hi, Adam,” Monty called. He studied the man in the carriage. “You were friends with Lou Delaney?” he asked.

  “Lou was a great guy,” Adam said. “You knew him?”

  “Old family friends,” he said, looking at Katie and smiling. “He came out here after the storm, and he and his cousin went out in a boat to help. I didn’t know him well, but as you said, great guy.”

  “Right. And it’s a true pleasure to m
eet you,” Adam said.

  Adam easily swung down from the carriage, a nimble man for his age. Striding toward Monty, he offered his hand. “Nice to meet you, sir. I haven’t had a chance to see Katie now in years, but I knew she was working with you. The reviews for your company are great. I quote, a small and personable carriage-tour business, excellent guides, animals well-tended. And I’ve just experienced the same myself.”

  “Well, thank you,” Monty said, beaming. “I think Katie’s knowledge and her warm and winning ways have a lot to do with that. We are small—three carriages, three drivers and me. I have five mules—I’m always watching that my animals are in good health and ready to go. Feel that way about my dogs, too. Mr. Harrison, it’s a pleasure to meet any old friend of Katie’s. Katie, I’ll see to Sarah and the carriage, and you and Mr. Harrison can enjoy some time together.”

  “Monty, that’s okay. It’s my job. Adam won’t mind waiting—”

  “I insist! Run along. I finished up all my paperwork, and I need something to do.”

  Katie was about to assure Monty he was welcome to join the two of them, but she refrained. She didn’t want their strange discussion shared with anyone.

  “Lorna and Matt are still on the job?” Monty asked.

  “Yes, they’re out there.”

  “Then, all is well. Go off. You must have tons to talk about,” Monty said.

  “Oh, we do!” Adam assured him cheerfully.

  “There’s a gate that leads to my little place just over there, by the stables,” Katie said. Then she paused. She could hear the dogs barking: Jerry, Ben and Mitch. They were huge Belgian shepherds, very loving to those they protected, but no one would ever dare break in at Monty Trudeau’s place. The dogs could put up such a racket when they were disturbed that could just about wake the dead over at St. Louis No. 1.

  “Monty, want to let the boys out for a minute? I’d love for them to meet Adam,” she said.

  She also didn’t want the man shredded to bits if the dogs made their way through the gate as they sometimes did.

  “Good idea,” Monty said, nodding gravely. “I’ll get the guys.”

  She thought Adam Harrison looked at his watch with a bit of impatience.

  Good.

  Katie was unnerved and uncomfortable, and yet she believed he’d known her father. And she was also both amazed and a bit uneasy because he knew about her strange ability.

  And that her father had been able to speak with the dead, too.

  He’d never told her, never mentioned it.

  But then, she’d never had that ability until the day she’d been saved by a long-dead pirate. She supposed her father wouldn’t have said anything to her for the same reason she never said anything to anyone else. “Is everything all right?” she asked Adam.

  He nodded. “I love dogs. Great to meet fellows who might otherwise want to chew me to pieces.”

  She smiled. When the canine siblings came out, they seemed ready to accept Adam Harrison. Monty had trained them not to jump, but they raced out to gather around Katie and then to sniff at the newcomer.

  “He’s good!” Monty told the dogs.

  Adam leaned down to pet all three, who then began to vie for his attention.

  “Okay, guys... I’ll leave the gate open, Monty. They can come and go as they like,” Katie said.

  “Sounds good. They’ll have the run of both yards,” her boss said, heading to Sarah and the carriage, ready to take care of both.

  Katie led Adam Harrison through the gate at the side of the stables to her little house. Giving the dogs her yard for extra room to roam in wasn’t much of a deal. While Monty’s place sat on four acres, her little house had about a tenth of that room. She loved it, though. She had found it the day she had applied for a job with Monty. And with the trust fund her parents had left her and the promise of a job to pay the mortgage, she’d been set. Monty had been thrilled she’d purchased the house. She didn’t mind looking out for things when he had to be away.

  It wasn’t in any way a grand Victorian, but it had been built during the mid-1800s and offered lots of charm. A wraparound porch with wooden railings surrounded the house. Downstairs she had what had been a small parlor and music room to one side of the narrow entry hall, and another small parlor, then connected dining room and kitchen to the other side. Upstairs, there were three small bedrooms.

  It was more than she needed. She didn’t have family or friends come to stay. She had cut off all ties with friends in Florida when she left. Jeremy, her closest living relation, was here.

  He had his own house, a place that was a grand Victorian, in the Garden District. But Katie had gone to high school and college in New Orleans and did have plenty of friends here. While they had their own homes, Katie liked to host game nights, and she kept the one downstairs parlor as a kid-safe zone for those who now had toddlers, and it was babyproofed so they couldn’t get into anything harmful.

  “Nice place,” Adam said, as she unlocked her front door and led him in.

  She noted the way he looked at the house. He was probably thinking she had no alarm system and that the wraparound porch might allow entry through a dozen windows.

  “It’s very safe here,” she said, as if he had spoken aloud. “And you met my alarm system. Jerry, Mitch and Ben. They would do anything for me.”

  “Dogs are vulnerable, just like people,” he said.

  “Ah, well... Can I get you something? Coffee?”

  “Let’s just sit for a minute, shall we?” he asked.

  “Okay. Yes. Sure. Let’s get to this.”

  She led him into the kitchen and dining area, indicating they could sit at the table.

  He drummed his fingers on the table for a moment but then got right to the point.

  “It really upset me when neither we nor anyone else seemed to be able to discover the truth behind the murder of your parents.”

  “George Calabria later went to trial for the murders of a couple in Orlando. There are those who are convinced he got away with murder twice.”

  “But you don’t believe that.”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “There was another couple on the boat. They disappeared.”

  “According to public record, they were nonexistent,” Adam reminded Katie.

  “Right. Except they existed. I’ve said it over and over again. And I know at the time people believed I was traumatized, that I wanted to believe someone else was to blame, that I couldn’t accept George was guilty.”

  “I don’t think people thought you were making it up. It was just, on record, they didn’t exist. Trying to find out anything about them was a challenge for lots of law-enforcement officials.”

  “They existed.”

  “So either they were murdered but thrown into the water to disappear or they did the murdering.”

  “That’s my assumption, yes. I think they were the murderers because, while no one was sharing information of the investigation with a fifteen-year-old, I never let it go, and I heard they didn’t find any blood belonging to anyone other than my parents and Anita Calabria on the boat. I know forensic teams—including FBI teams—went over the boat with a fine-tooth comb.”

  “Yes.”

  “They were your teams, I take it?”

  “Not at the time, but yes, I had something to do with it.”

  “Why don’t I know you?”

  “You did meet me—but you were three or four at the time.”

  “Ah. Why didn’t you see more of my parents?”

  “They were busy. I was busy. But I did see your dad about six months before he was killed. He was in DC for a reunion. We were able to go out to dinner together right before I dropped him at the airport to head home.” He hesitated. “He raved about you, Katie. He said you were an amazing young diver, that y
ou might turn that love into something wonderful one day. You’d found pieces in the channels that belonged in museums over sites where wrecks had been salvaged and investigated dozens of times.”

  She shrugged. “I loved it once. Now,” she said, offering him a smile, “I love mules. And New Orleans.”

  He returned her smile. “Katie, what do you remember about that day?”

  “Oh, God,” she whispered.

  “I’m sorry. I don’t mean the horror you discovered coming up from your dive. I don’t want to subject you to that again. I mean, what do you remember about going out?”

  “Well, my dad had the boat at a private wharf. He rented the space. The couple who owned the property could have five boats docked there. The wife kept a little shop with bait, sodas, snacks, life vests...some diving equipment. But when we out...”

  She paused, remembering the day.

  “We came in separate cars. I mean, my folks and I were in one, and the Calabrias and their friends came in George’s car. We met on the dock. You said you know my dad, so you know he welcomed them. And my mom, too. She liked people... She was happy to look for the best in them. And friends of George and Anita were, naturally, welcome.”

  “I interviewed Mrs. Jennings, who owned the dock. Mr. Jennings wasn’t home when you went out that day. She did think she saw more people than just you, your parents, and Mr. and Mrs. Calabria. But she couldn’t be sure. And she couldn’t identify anyone.”

  “I know.”

  “So we need to find this couple.”

  “You said yourself law-enforcement officials from all over tried. They’re nonexistent. What makes you think we’ll have any luck this time?”

  “I think they’re here. In Louisiana. In New Orleans.”

  Katie inhaled. “And you think they...that they murdered the people this morning?”

  “I do. Otherwise, I’d never cause you distress again. But desperate times call for desperate measures, as they say. And I know you’d go the distance to find justice for your parents. To that end, I’ve come to you. And to another individual who was in on the second investigation.”