by Lisa Coots
“Yeah, it’s good to have connections.”
“Will she be there?”
“I don’t know why she would. She just sold the dress.” Ben rolled his eyes at her.
Serena hid a smile as she followed him out. Ben retrieved his bags from the foyer then turned to frown at her.
“Just wondering. I didn’t know how close y’all were.” Shrugging, Serena pushed the curls from her neck.
“Close?” Ben groaned opening the door. “Just stop right there.”
“Fine. Just tell her I said hi.”
“I told you, she won’t be there.” Ben headed out the door with one last frown.
“Yeah, ok.”
“Are you sure you’ll be alright?” Stepping off the porch, he turned back to look at her.
“Yes. Ben, I’m fine.”
“Mason didn’t answer when I called to let him know I was leaving. I’m sure he’s probably on his way back by now.”
“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” Serena said absently as her gaze caught Faith’s light blue sedan still in the driveway. “Faith’s still here.”
“I guess.”
“She never came back in.” Serena stepped off the porch to peer in the direction of the wooded path.
“I haven’t seen her since she said she was going to the graveyard this morning.”
A feeling of dread came over Serena. “That’s been hours.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know. It’s too hot out here. She wouldn't still be out there.”
“Come on. Let’s go find her.” After placing his bags in his Land Rover, he slammed the door and took off down the path.
The summer heat was stifling on its own but mixed with heady woodsy scents, Serena found it difficult to breath. Within minutes her light summer shirt was clinging to her.
“Are you sure she wasn't in the kitchen?” Ben asked wiping at his brow.
“No, I would have heard her. I thought she had left.”
As they neared the small cemetery, the sound of sobbing reached them.
“Faith?” Serena called out as she picked up her pace.
Upon entering the clearing, they found Faith sitting on the ground her back against a headstone, head in her hands, sobbing uncontrollably. Serena knelt beside her.
“Faith, are you alright, hun?”
Strands of hair, slick with sweat, stuck to her face and neck. With red puffy eyes, Faith looked up at Serena. “He’s gone.”
“Who?”
“Jacques. My father came home. Jacques told him about the baby and that we were getting married.”
“Faith, calm down.” Ben leaned over to rub her back gently. Faith's hiccoughing sobs became more frequent as she became more distressed. “Just breath for a minute.”
“No, no, no.” Her sobs continued.
“She needs water, and shade.” Motioning with his head to the tree line, Ben pulled Faith off of the ground. “Let’s get her to the shade and I’ll run back to the house for water.”
“He killed him.” Faith grabbed at Ben’s shirt. “Why? Why would he do that?”
“Killed who?”
“I saw. My father killed Jacques. He beat him with his hands.”
“Calm down.” Sitting her under a tree, Ben looked at Serena. “Try to get her to calm down.”
“Jake. I need Jake, please.” Faith hugged her knees.
“Ok, I’ll be right back.” Ben hurried off down the path.
“It’s alright, hun.” Serena sat next to her. “Tell me what happened.”
“He killed him. He said I wasn’t going to ruin his plans for the gambling boat. He was so angry like he was possessed or something. He kept beating him. There was blood everywhere. I thought he was going to beat me, too. He said he needed me to marry Harold.” Faith pushed at the sweaty strands of hair miserably. Her ponytail had fell to one side, hanging limply as she gave in to another sob. “I told him I wouldn’t marry him, I loved Jacques. He hit me. I ran to my room. He followed me up the stairs. He said I’d never see Jacques again. Never again. Never again.”
CHAPTER 26
Serena sighed, unlocking the heavy wooden door to Coeur du Bayou. She was glad to be home, even if she was alone. Funny how things changed. She had gone from always being alone to always having someone else around. Mason had not yet returned. Ben had finally left for his shoot after helping her get Faith and her car home safely. She put her keys on the entryway table and glanced at her reflection in the mirror. The humid heat had her hair a wild mess. Her curls had escaped their tie and clung to her back. Feeling the stickiness from her earlier outdoor ordeal with Faith, she paused deciding if she needed a shower or tea first. The shower won out and she headed up the stairs.
A noise from the parlor stopped her cold. She knew she was alone. Walking softly down the stairs, she tiptoed into the parlor listening for more noises. Not sensing any movement, she made her way in the darkness to the closest lamp. Serena held her breath as she felt for the switch. The soft light warmed the room and the bright jewel tones put her instantly at ease. Releasing the breath, she glanced around for the source of the noise. Everything seemed to be as she had left it. Her gaze continued around the room finally landing on the fireplace mantle. One lone candlestick stood directly in the middle of the mantle. Not where she left it. Richie. Feeling the room around her, she wondered why the house hadn’t warned her. Then again, she had been preoccupied today with her worries about Faith.
“Not tonight, Richie,” Serena muttered to the empty room. Crossing to the mantle, she placed the candle stick back where it belonged. Something still felt off, but she couldn’t place it. To be on the safe side she lit some incense and made her way back upstairs. If Richie was going to act up tonight, he could wait until after her shower.
Still unsettled, Mason drove through the darkened town of Cypress Point. He thought the long drive would give him time to calm down. Why hadn’t she mentioned working for Graham, if it was only work?
Because he’d be upset and jealous. He knew the answer. He couldn’t fault her for that, but surely since they were trying to work things out she’d tell him the truth. Did Ben know? His suspicious nature had him wondering if Ben had kept her secrets.
What did that matter? he chastised himself. She had called Ben. Not him. Mason supposed he was still upset about that. Serena was here now, with him. Stop being so foolish. You trust them both. His mind ran back to the sabotage and the missing money. If they were in it together, Ben could have helped her pull it off or at the very least looked the other way.
No, Ben wouldn’t do that. Running a hand over his face roughly as he pulled up to the house, he noticed that only Serena’s car was in the driveway. She was here. Alone. The interior light flooded the inside of his car as he searched for his phone. Sometime during the drive it must have fallen to the floorboard. Reaching over to fish a hand around the passenger side leg well, he felt an envelope. Curious, he pulled it and felt the weight of his phone pinning it down. Looking at his phone first, he noticed the notification light flashing. Two missed calls from Ben and a text.
Hey man. Wanted to remind you I have a shoot. Leaving now.
“Ok, see? You’re being paranoid for nothing. Go in and talk to her.” Reasoning with himself, he opened the unfamiliar envelope to find a photograph. Pulling it from the manila envelope, his eyes focused on the subject and his vision immediately went red. On the enlarged photo was a smiling Serena walking arm in arm with Evan, her dark curls flowing behind her. She had on the same dress she’d worn the day before. A note attached read: She’s not what you think.
No. Even as he tried to talk his mind out of what he was seeing he thought back to the night he arrived at Coeur du Bayou. The deputy had seemed more than a little over protective of Serena. His first assumption had been that there was something between them.
The memories danced before him. Her. It was always her, but now the man in the shadows had a different face. The dark headed deputy hel
d her, caressing her as she moved to the music. The face periodically interchanging with Graham Young’s.
A shadow moved in front of the window of the house. The anger built with each thundering beat of his heart.
Feeling better after her shower, Serena took her tea into the parlor still pondering why the house had not warned her. She lit another incense, watching the flame grow. Something still felt off. Blowing out the flame, she glanced at the mantle again. The candlestick was sitting innocently in its place exactly where she had left it.
She felt him suddenly. A surge of longing pulsed through her. Mason. Making her way to the window, she was relieved. She moved the curtain aside to peer outside. Yes, he was home. He appeared to be just sitting in his car watching the house. Not opening the car door, until he noticed her in the window. Something was wrong, she could tell by his movements. Wanting to help, she went to the door to greet him.
The door swung open before she reached it. Mason was there suddenly in front of her, his eyes glowing with anger. His breath ragged and raspy, “Why?”
“Mason, what's wrong?”
“Why didn’t you tell me? How long has it been going on?”
He shoved a picture in her face.
“What? How long what?”
“You and the deputy?” he snarled at her.
“No. Oh no. There is nothing going on.” Snatching the picture from his hand, she glanced at the familiar scene. “Did Eva give you this? She must have gotten someone else to take this. She had just drove away. I watched her leave. That bitch had someone watching me.”
“Has he been here?” Mason looked around the room wildly.
“What?” Serena blinked at the accusation. He still didn’t trust her.
“Has he been here today? While I was gone?”
“No, Mason. You need to calm down.” She tried to reach for him, wanting to sooth the anger.
“What else haven’t you told me?” Mason grabbed her arms forcing her to look at him. The heat between them grew. Serena looked into his eyes and remembered. His anger. Like this but another time.
The memory flickered before her. Blood on the lace dress, Mason’s face as he stood over her. There was pain. She heard her own voice pleading with him to stop.
“Stop, Mason.” Unsure of what she was seeing or feeling, Serena shook her head.
“Why are you lying to me?” His hands gripped her harder, digging into her flesh.
“Let me go!” She pushed at him, backing slowly to the stairs.
He followed, his rage exploding from him. “You whore!”
“No, Mason,” she whispered as the air around them became thick and heavy. A crashing sound came from the parlor. The candlestick. Richie. The memory flashed again before her. Blood and pain. The controllable anger vibrating from the man she loved.
“Where’s my money?” The strange voice that came from Mason echoed through the house.
“Mason, stop. I don’t have your money,” she hissed at him. “I didn’t lie.”
“You’ve been seeing Graham. I know.”
A gasp escaped her lips. “No.”
“Lying whore.”
“It wasn’t like that. It was a job.” The first flicker of fear ran through her. His anger filled the room. His eyes and stony expression brought the memory back. Mason as he was then, screaming obscenities, his weight pressing down on her. Her voice pleading desperately as she felt the knife pierce her stomach. The pain blinded her as he slashed again and again.
“You!” Stunned at the horrible memory, time felt frozen as she lifted a finger to point at him. Then fear took over sending her running up the stairs. Mason let loose a dangerous growl, and followed. Serena felt his muscular arms wrapping around her legs. She fell helpless as his weight dragged her down hitting the stairs hard. Her ribcage taking the brunt of the fall. Gasping for breath, she was trapped under him as he climbed up her body. The wooden edge of the stair pushing harder into her side. He turned her over finally, and she swung at him. Her fist connecting with the side of his face.
“You… You did it. You killed me.” Every breathless sob sent shooting pains throughout her body.
Mason's expression changed from cold to horrified. His hands loosened on her and he moaned, “Oh, Rena… No.”
“Get away from me!”
“No, Rena, please. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“Get off!” She pushed herself up the stairs backwards, kicking her legs loose and untangling herself.
“Rena, I’m sorry.”
“Take your pictures and accusations and get out of my house!” Her voice was fierce.
“No, I won’t leave you alone. Something’s not right.” Mason shook his head gazing into the air around him.
“Yeah, I’m getting that, but it’s you.” Moving slowly, she watched him warily and used the railing to pull herself up. The lights flickered and hummed. The aroma of wet dog floated around her.
“No, not now,” she whispered.
“Rena, please,” still on his knees, Mason pleaded with her. “He’s here. He wants to hurt you.”
The lights flickered again, wildly this time. The odd hum grew louder.
“You should just leave. Go away, Mason.” The lights went out before she finished speaking, his name falling into darkness.
Scrambling the rest of the way up the stairs, she crouched against the railing.
“Rena!” The howl that came from Mason shook the house.
Staying low, she felt with her hands along the floor to find the nearest wall. She groped along it, making her way safely away from the staircase. If she stayed up here, she knew she was trapped.
Trapped. The vision of Mason leaning over her with bloody hands brought tears to her eyes. What kind of magic had brought them together? “Careful what you wish for, girl.” Her grandmother’s constant warning echoed in her head. She heard movement on the stairs as Mason pleaded with her and cursed at Richie.
Creeping as silently as she could, she felt along the wall until she came to the door of the service stairs. Trying to keep her breathing even and shallow, she turned the knob slowly, wincing when the latch clicked open.
Mason was still cursing at Richie as she closed the door behind her. Pausing in the dark, she listened and waited. Feeling the air around her, she waited. The house hadn’t warned her. She longed for the sound of a slamming door to prove herself wrong.
A hiss sounded in her ear. “You can’t hide bitchhhhh.”
Covering her mouth with her hand, she sat on the top stair trying not to panic. Serena’s fingers slid over the slick surface of the narrow wooden staircase. Glad of the hours she had spent lovingly sanding and varnishing the staircase herself, she knew there’d be no splinters. The pitch black seemed endless as she slowly felt each step and slid her body down. She tried counting them, but the dark was overwhelming. Mason’s muffled ravings seemed so far away. She felt the wood beneath her vibrate with a strange energy. Finally, her foot came against the closed door to the kitchen. She reached for the knob and a spark of electricity shocked her. Still feeling the tingle of it, she tried again this time succeeding. The gust of cool air that greeted her was welcomed after the closeted heat of the stairwell.
Crouching by the door, she listened for movement. The kitchen was quiet except for her breathing. Mason’s angry voice still seemed to be coming from the staircase.
Her heart pounding, she thought frantically of her options. She could leave out of the back door. The easiest route. The only problem was her keys still sat on the entryway table where she had left them. The extra set she kept in a drawer here in the kitchen was promptly moved after the horrible night Richie had shown up. Dragging a battered and bruised Claire, he had forced himself into her home in search of a secret stash of money. Not ever wanting to repeat the search for the extra set of keys, she had safely tucked them away in her office. Groaning inwardly, she knew it would be easier to get to the keys in the foyer. Her bare feet moved silently over the wood
en floor. The odd hum continued. Taking a deep breath, she crept closer to the kitchen entryway. Mason’s angry voice demanded for Richie to leave. The odd hum followed. If she stayed low and quiet maybe Mason wouldn’t notice her.
On hands and knees Serena crawled in the darkness, using her hands to feel in front of her. The table was closer to the door. If she were able to grab the keys she could make a run for it.
“You need to leave Richie!” Mason threatened.
An angry hiss seemed to emerge from the humming, “She took my money.”
“She doesn’t have your money!”
Her hand touched the table leg. Kneeling she made her way up the table to feel for the keys. The lights flickered and the strange hum grew louder in her ears.
“Bitch, where’s my money?” A rotten smell invaded her nostrils, and the hiss encircled her. As her fingertip touched the keys, they flew from the table into the darkness crashing to the floor.
Her anger rose as she stood.
“You’re dead, Richie! Don’t you remember falling down the stairs. The knife. You’re dead. The police have your money!”
The lights blinked wildly, the humming shook the floorboards beneath her feet.
“No, you lie. You pushed me!” A shadowy form appeared on the staircase in front of Mason out stretching an arm to point a ghostly finger at Serena.
“Rena, stop,” Mason warned never taking his eyes from the shadow.
“No, he’s dead. He needs to leave. This is my house!” Her voice echoed off the ceiling.
The shadow lunged at Mason to shove him out of the way, but Mason pushed back. The air crackled with electricity. Serena watched in disbelief as Mason struggled with the specter.
“You’re dead, Richie,” Mason spat through clenched teeth. “I won’t let you hurt her.”
In the strobing light, Serena watched in horror as Mason’s foot slipped from the step and he tumbled in slow motion taking the shadowy form with him.
“No! Mason!” Her warning was pointless.
Racing to where Mason landed on the bottom step, she knelt next to him. Richie looked down at them oddly, as he floated just above Mason. He hovered, stretching out his arms. Serena felt his panic as his wraithlike form kicked to reach the floor. Not connected with anything, his movements became more frantic. His form began to expand and thin becoming more transparent.
