The Unforgiven

by Heather Graham

  “You don’t think he’s innocent,” Katie accused Dan when George had disappeared through the hotel doors.

  “I think there’s a chance he’s innocent, Katie. Yes, I really do,” he told her.

  He headed back out to the street, navigating the one-way streets to head to Rampart and cross over to Treme and then on to Katie’s house.

  He parked in front, turning off the ignition.

  “You’re coming in?” she said.

  “You bet.”

  “To check out the house.”

  He nodded gravely.

  “The dogs—”

  “Where are they? They’re usually barking away and wagging their tails at the fence when the gate between the two properties is open,” he reminded her.

  “Hm. The boys aren’t out,” Katie said. She exited the car and opened her gate.

  Dan followed her.

  It was dark and quiet next door at the stables.

  Katie opened her door. He was glad to see at least she had locks on it, one a solid bolt. But he remembered what George had said—remembered the crimes of the past.

  The killer had gained access by cutting out panels in doors. And he also remembered the window in her downstairs bathroom. It was large, looking out over a pretty magnolia bush and covered with a solid plastic drape.

  But it was easy access to the house.

  He followed her in, and she turned on the hall lights. He stepped ahead of her and started with the left side of the house and then the right.

  She followed him.

  He headed upstairs next, going room to room.

  She had her bedroom, while another bedroom had been transformed into an office. The third, the guest room, offered an inflatable bed and small television. Back out in the upstairs hall, he noted there was an attic. A cord pulled down the stairway to it.

  “Dan! If someone was in the attic, how would they get the stairs down?” she asked him as he yanked on the rope.

  He ignored her, headed up the dusty stairs, found the chain for the single electric bulb and pulled it. Light flooded the space. It was clean and neat with only a few boxes.

  No one was hiding there.

  He headed back down. She was waiting for him in the hallway.

  “Okay?” she asked him.

  He headed back down the stairs, determined to check out the back door, the kitchen door, again.

  He remembered there had been a second door.

  The house was built up on pilings, so there might well be a basement. There was. Like the attic, it was clean and neat. It contained yard tools, an extra refrigerator, a Ping-Pong table and heating equipment.

  Little windows looked to the outside.

  They could be broken.

  A man—not a giant, but even a man his size—might be able to crawl through them.

  He came back up the basement stairs. Katie was waiting in the kitchen, leaning on the counter.

  “It’s a basement, right?” Her tone was sarcastic. “We’re at water level, but the house was built up. And yes, it has flooded, so I move stuff up when a storm is coming. But no one was in it, right?”

  “Nope.”

  “Would you like coffee or something before you leave?” she asked him.

  He shook his head.

  “No, you don’t want coffee? Would you like something else?”

  “Coffee is fine,” he told her. “Nope, I’m not leaving.”

  She looked at him, frowning. Then she sighed. “Listen, you’ve gotten to where you’re bearable, but I’m not—”

  “Hey. I’m staying because there are no dogs out in the yard and your house is a veritable sieve.”

  “But—”

  “Katie, do you have any damned common sense? You could be a target! Do you have a death wish? Did you want to invite an axe murderer in?”

  She seemed to freeze where she stood. “No,” she said. “My apologies. The guest room has a blow-up bed, but it’s a good one, and the sheets are clean. Please, make yourself at home. Oh, and it has its own little bathroom. You’ll barely fit in it, but I get nice hot water, and the water pressure is surprisingly decent, too. Towels on the hooks in there are clean, too. Coffee...well, you know how to fix coffee, I’m sure.”

  She walked out of the kitchen, and he heard her footsteps as she hurried upstairs.

  And then the click as she closed her bedroom door.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Dan Oliver wasn’t a bad guest, and Katie wasn’t sure why’d she’d been so sharp with him the night before. She’d heard him walk around, and she was certain he was checking all the windows. She’d heard him in the kitchen.

  He had made coffee. She thought about going back down; coffee never kept her awake.

  And now she was embarrassed. She’d made assumptions when he’d spoken, and it had really been idiotic. She’d just been so nervous.

  She was, in truth, glad he had insisted on staying, she admitted to herself once she’d showered and curled into her bed. The dogs didn’t seem to be out.

  Her house might well be full of holes.

  She’d never learned to shoot and didn’t own a gun. Living in Jeremy’s house until she’d gone into a dorm at college, she had always felt safe.

  Jeremy did have a shotgun, and locks and a high-tech alarm system.

  She wondered as she lay awake why—after what she had witnessed—she hadn’t headed straight out to a shooting range. She should have learned to defend herself. Maybe she’d resolve now that she would do so.

  Jeremy had even suggested it after college. But she had decided to buy the house next to the stables, and Monty was there, and the dogs were there...and it was easier to lose herself in the busyness of working the stables, of talking to new and different people every day.

  She’d got caught up in building this life, and she was proud of her tours, that she knew how to make her stories both accurate and fun. Even her weird ability to see the dead had worked out for her because she could add bits and pieces of lore she had learned from the ghosts she sometimes found wandering through the city.

  “Why aren’t you being more helpful now?” she whispered aloud, to no spirit in particular.

  She didn’t know. But as she lay there, she realized she would have been awake all night if Dan hadn’t stayed.

  She heard when he checked the front door, and she knew he checked the rear door, too.

  And she heard him when he came up the stairs and softly closed the door to the guest room.

  She was tired, so tired. And now she had showered, and the hot water had been delicious, and she felt wonderfully comfortable, and while her thoughts raced, she was relaxed.

  And she even wondered at herself.

  He’d made her laugh a few times. He’d made her feel competent and important...

  She let out an oath of aggravation with herself, slammed her pillow and curled around again to get comfortable.

  She wished she had more experience with men. After moving to New Orleans, she’d dated a boy named Len Trotsky in high school, but that had faded away her first year of college; she’d been a dedicated student. And Jeremy had been like a watchdog, and maybe people even thought she was strange, if they knew her history.

  She’d had a couple casual relationships with men who had come and gone; both had been musicians, and their schedules had gotten in the way...

  Relationships were scary for her because of her ability to see the dead. She’d learned to hide it in everyday life, pretend she was talking on her phone so she could converse with a spirit, but to live a full life with someone... It would be such a lie to omit something like that about herself. And if she revealed it? Surely they’d back away faster than they could say boo.

  Nothing had ever ended badly. No one had broken her heart. They had just faded away, and she had
known she had just been biding time. She had never allowed anything more than friendship to develop between her and Matt or their friend Benny. Friendships were hard to come by, and they were good friends.

  And now... She laughed inwardly at herself and smiled in the darkness.

  She didn’t really know how to handle herself with a mature male. Especially one she never thought she’d tolerate, much less come to like and respect.

  She gave her head a shake. Maybe she was doomed to being likable and maybe even a bit charming—and alone.

  Whatever...

  It had been a long day. A hard day. But she had seen Jennie. And it seemed Dan believed her. George was here, and Dan was respecting his promise regarding George.

  And still...

  She felt she was living and breathing pure tension.

  But over that, exhaustion.

  Finally, she felt the comfort coming, the inability to open her eyes, the sweetness of sleep.

  It must have been a deep sleep, because when she opened her eyes, she didn’t know why.

  Then she heard it. Movement downstairs.

  She shot out of bed, barely daring to breathe, terrified at first, and then remembering Dan was down the hall. She paused on the landing, her heart thudding so she was sure it could be heard all the way down to Bourbon Street.

  “Katie.”

  She heard his voice as he spoke her name quietly.

  “You can come to me. I’m at the foot of the stairs.”

  She pattered down quickly. He was just inside the front door. He had on his jeans, but his chest and feet were bare.

  He had his gun in his hand.

  “What is it?” she whispered.

  “Someone was here,” he said, and he let out a sigh. “Around back. He was going for the back door.”

  “But—”

  “I heard him, but he heard me coming. He was gone before I could reach the door and get out. I’ve called Ryder and Axel. They’ll start a search of the neighborhood.”

  She nodded. “Thank you,” she said. He was telling her a killer had come for her; the killer had been at her back door.

  And she couldn’t seem to distract herself from his chest. He was very tightly muscled. He was bronze, and in the soft light, his muscles seemed to ripple and gleam.

  * * *

  She inhaled and exhaled. “You’re sure...you’re sure there was someone there?” she asked. “Monty might have let the dogs back out. They always like to check and see if I have a bit of a treat for them or something.”

  “It wasn’t the dogs.”

  “Maybe an ordinary intruder?”

  He shook his head.

  “How do you know?”

  “He left a calling card. There’s an axe by the back steps.” He was quiet for a moment. “This wasn’t his only stop. There’s blood on the axe.”

  * * *

  The forensic teams went everywhere. Through the house, around the house, through and around the yard, and on to Monty’s place.

  Luckily, it had been close to dawn by the time Katie woke and came down, and now it was getting light. Dan had already called in what had happened, and the teams quickly arrived.

  Monty, up and over when he saw the commotion, was worried.

  “It’s my fault! I let the boys stay in the house when I was out last night. I should have had them in the yard. It’s a mistake I won’t make again. And let the cops tear my place apart. If there’s anything to be found, I will be relieved and grateful to help in any way.”

  He had an arm around Katie as if he were her father. Katie was trying to be appreciative and extract herself at the same time.

  Lorna arrived for her carriage and mule, but once she heard what had happened, she joined Monty in the kitchen, comforting and keeping Katie company.

  Dan stood outside with Axel and Ryder.

  “We already got the axe into the lab,” Ryder told Dan. “We’re calling precedent on this with everything. The wig is already being tested, and I believe we will get DNA, but if it’s not in the system...”

  “I know,” Dan told him. “And even if it is...we have to find this woman and prove she’s involved.”

  “The problem with finding her is that she changes with the wind,” Axel added. “She could have a fine supply of wigs, different-colored contact lenses, sunglasses, scarves... We did have an army on the street last night, and we didn’t find her. But even with that many police going venue to venue, it’s easy to slip outside of the French Quarter with a crowd, get to the backstreets, to wherever she’s staying. Also we know a man is doing the killing—or a big, tall woman—and that isn’t Katie’s Jennie. So she has an accomplice here. I imagine they thought they could go around the city without being noticed. They’d think a girl—as Katie was twelve years ago—wouldn’t remember them that clearly. She’d only met them that day.”

  “We’ve made a number of different images based off of the one Katie created,” Ryder said. “The woman with different hair and eyes. If she’s here and part of this, we will find her.”

  “Great,” Dan said.

  The other men were silent for a minute, watching as the forensic teams went through the yards, seeking the tiniest piece of evidence.

  Then Axel asked, “Do you think that she targeted Katie because Katie saw her? Or was she on the agenda already?”

  “I don’t know,” Dan said. He had already told them he’d seen George Calabria/Calhoun. “There are many possibilities. Was it just chance that Jennie was outside the restaurant? Or was she trying to watch Katie? We know there were two of them. The killing, however, does seem to be done by one man. Still, it may be a joint effort. What I don’t understand is the geography with what went on here. Florida, Florida, Louisiana. And the number six that keeps coming up. Speaking of which, anything on the goats?”

  “It was three years ago,” Ryder replied. “The goats were found with their throats slit. Drained of blood. They were found right off the road. At the time, there was an outcry, of course. But we know people here. We know the key people who really practice voodoo, and they’re damned honest. Love spells, good spells...and it wasn’t witches or anyone who thinks they’re vampires. We have had a lot of groups who are wannabe vampires. Some of them are so-called spiritual vampires. They suck good vibes out of the air. Other groups drink blood, but they don’t kill for it, they donate to one another. It’s all a bit bizarre. But we investigated and couldn’t find out who was responsible. This is a city that has gone through a lot. We still have major crime. The goats...well, it was a single incident, and it wasn’t high on the list of what we needed to be investigating,” Ryder said.

  “Right. Like now. The blood on the axe. Nothing has been reported?” Dan asked.

  “Not yet,” Ryder said, shaking his head. “We’ve got the info out to our officers. They are doing their best.”

  “Agents, too,” Axel said. “I’m going to head back in.” He hesitated. “It was a good thing you were here last night,” he told Dan.

  “Yeah.”

  “Katie should be in a safe house,” Axel said.

  “This is a safe house if Monty remembers to leave the dogs out, Dan stays and you and I keep our people on it,” Ryder said.

  “I wish she was somewhere else,” Dan said, shaking his head.

  “Well, I don’t think he’ll come back to a place where he can’t just slip in and surprise an unarmed woman,” Ryder said.

  “There’s no telling,” Axel said. He turned to Dan. “So I guess you’re going to stay close with Katie. What’s your plan?”

  Dan smiled. “She’s a tour guide. We’ll tour.”

  Axel nodded. “And look for the woman.”

  “All right. I’m heading back to talk to the troops,” Ryder said. He lifted a hand as he left them and they nodded.

  When he was gone,
Dan added, “We’re going to be looking for two women. One living, and one dead. That was rude of Mabel to appear and say she was going to help and then disappear. Are ghosts always that rude?”

  Axel grinned. “See if you can find her, too. She’s been prowling around, I’m sure. She has the luxury of not fearing for her life.”

  Dan looked at the man he had worked with before and called a friend. He’d never known or suspected there was anything out of the ordinary about him. He knew they had often been referred to as the ghostbusters unit, but he’d assumed that was because they dealt with cases having to do with supposedly haunted houses and crimes where the bizarre came into play.

  He’d never thought that...that they were ghostbusters. Except it didn’t sound as if the ghosts needed busting—their role was to help the living prevent more death.

  “How do you just...deal with dead people?” Dan asked.

  “Ah, well, I grew up knowing there was more,” Axel told him. “Maybe that makes it easier. It may not seem like it, but...well, it makes it easier to help sometimes. Hopefully you’ll find Mabel, and maybe she’ll have some insight.”

  “One can only hope. It looks like the forensic team is wrapping up. I’m going to see if it’s all right to take the carriages and the mules out,” Dan said.

  “I’ll be in touch, and I’m only ever a phone call away.”

  Axel headed out. Dan found the head of the forensic team. His name was Randy Moliere, and he appeared to be in his midthirties and was lean, energetic and determined. He was the kind of man who had authority and wielded it well with his own determination in getting a job done.

  “Find anything?” Dan inquired. “And the folks are asking if they can go to work? We really don’t have a connection to Monty’s property, and he’s been a good guy, letting everyone traipse around.”

  “We’re pulling out now. The only damned thing we found was the axe and a few drops of blood around it. We don’t how he got in. Just opened the gate, I imagine. And we do know whoever did it wore gloves. No fingerprints can be found anywhere near the door. And so far, though we have some techniques that might bring something up at the lab, no prints on the axe. No footprints. It’s as if this guy just beamed in or over or whatever. As far as the stables go...what a mess. Dozens of prints. Because normal people working don’t worry about their fingerprints. Anyway, we’ll be making comparisons, and though I doubt we’ll be lucky enough to find a match in the system, we will get DNA off the axe and at least find a victim,” Moliere said.