by Jana DeLeon
“Maybe he just wants some gossip to spread around,” Zach said. “I’m guessing there’s not a whole lot to talk about in Calais.”
“You may be right. The two men with him are both widowers and worse gossips than most women I’ve known. Roger isn’t married now, but I suppose he could have been married before. Maybe they’re just bored.”
“Or maybe he was looking to hook up with an heiress,” Zach teased.
Danae stared at him, her dismay so obvious, he laughed.
“That’s just wrong,” she said. “He’s old enough to be my father.”
“A lot of women see that as a plus.”
“Weak, lazy women who have daddy issues. I hardly need a man to take care of me.” She stopped speaking abruptly and stared at him for a moment. “You’re picking on me, and I totally took the bait.”
“Sorry, but I couldn’t resist, especially as I can’t imagine you hooking up with a man for any reason other than you wanted to.” Before he could stop himself, his thoughts tumbled out of his mouth. “You’re an admirable woman, Danae. I wouldn’t blame a man, regardless of age, for taking a shot at you.”
She shifted in her seat, looking both flattered and uncomfortable. “Thank you, but I’ve been surrounded by bulletproof glass for a long time. Anyone shooting at me wouldn’t stand a chance.”
“Maybe,” he said and smiled. What she said was probably true of her past, but he’d already put a crack in that shield. Danae wasn’t as insulated as she wanted to believe. Her statement also made him wonder what had happened in her past that made her so cagey, so protective.
“Can I ask you a personal question?” he asked.
“Sure, but I reserve the right not to answer it and to rescind my offer to pay for dinner.”
“I’ll take my chances.” He studied her for a moment, trying to decide the best way to approach the subject, then finally just blurted it out. “What happened to make you so closed off? You don’t strike me as a woman who would take abuse, but I figure it had to be something horrible. What did he do—cheat on you? Steal your money?”
Danae’s eyes widened. Clearly, the question had been an unexpected one. “I’ve never been married or even in a serious relationship.”
“That surprises me.”
“Why?”
“You’re a beautiful woman. I can’t imagine you don’t know that or that other men haven’t noticed. You mentioned working in bars and cafés—how many times do you get hit on in a week?”
“That doesn’t count. That’s just men behaving like boys.”
“Yes, but men don’t behave like boys unless they think a woman is attractive, something I’m sure you’ve seen played out a thousand times in your lines of work.”
She shrugged and looked down at the table.
“So what caused you to close off this way?” he asked. “You’re an intelligent, beautiful, engaging woman, but you’ve made yourself an island surrounded by suspicion and distrust.”
She looked back up at him, but her gaze seemed to go right through him. Whatever haunted Danae LeBeau went much deeper than a failed romance or the betrayal of a friend. Finally, her vision sharpened and she narrowed her eyes at him.
“My choices are not up for discussion,” she said.
Before he could reply, Sonia slid two plates of food in front of them. “Y’all need anything else?”
Zach waited a second for Danae to reply, but when she remained silent, he looked up at the smiling waitress and shook his head. “No, thank you.”
“Okay. Holler if you do.” She jaunted off across the café, leaving them wrapped in silence so thick he could cut it.
* * *
DANAE JUMPED INTO her car in front of the café, barely lifting her hand to Zach as he pulled away in his truck. They’d finished the meal in silence except for the barest of sentences, like “Please pass the salt.” She knew Zach was disappointed that she wouldn’t engage in any of the topics he’d put forward, but she simply wasn’t ready.
Yes, she was attracted to him—how could she not be? He was strong, sexy and hell-bent on protecting her. And even though the last thing she needed was a white knight, her heart beat a little bit stronger just knowing that such a man wanted to be her savior.
Then there was the kiss.
She’d been kissed before—probably not as much as people thought, but certainly, she was no innocent maiden. But something about Zach’s kisses was different. Her whole body responded to him, every single square inch as if it were awakening for the first time. It was exhilarating and frightening all at the same time.
Then he’d asked her why she didn’t let people in, and all romantic thoughts had flown out the window. Her gut had involuntarily clenched as every horrible moment from her past ran through her mind on speed play. Then, for a millisecond, she thought about telling Zach everything.
A second later, the thought fled as if on fire and she returned to her good senses, wondering what in the world had gotten into her. Sure, Zach was gorgeous and she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t interested in a physical relationship, but she’d always guarded her past like Fort Knox, intending for it to go to the grave along with her. What in the world had caused her to think, even for a split second, that she should share her past with a man who was essentially a stranger?
Sighing, she rolled down the window to let the cool autumn breeze waft over her. Maybe the air would clear her head. As she put the car in Drive, a hand clutched her shoulder and she jumped.
“Sorry.” Amos, the ancient LeBeau estate caretaker, stood outside her car door, leaning on a crutch with his free hand, the other crutch tucked under his arm.
“Amos! You shouldn’t be walking around like this. It can’t possibly be good for your foot.”
He waved a hand in dismissal. “If I have to rest another minute, I’m going to just go ahead and die. My niece is one of those hoverers. Darn woman spends all day standing over me or peeking at me around corners. A man needs some room for his thoughts. Ain’t had a single one of my own since I moved in with her.”
Danae held in a smile at the crotchety man’s delivery. She knew the niece and didn’t doubt for a minute that she was hovering—she was decidedly that kind of woman—but she also knew Amos probably made the worst patient ever.
“Anyway,” he continued, “I saw your car here from her living-room window, and I’ve been waiting for her to take her nightly bath so I could sneak out and talk to you. You got a minute for a foolish old man?”
“Of course.”
Amos scooted away from the door so that Danae could exit the car, then he pointed to a park bench on the sidewalk in front of the café. She took his arm and guided him over to it, then sat beside him.
“I guess you heard the gossip,” she said.
Amos nodded. “I should have figured it out before. I felt something—a connection, I guess—with you the first time I saw you at the café. But I didn’t understand why. I mean, you’re a nice girl and a pretty one, but it was something more than that.”
“I was only a baby when Purcell sent me away, and I don’t look like either of my parents, not enough to call attention. It’s not surprising that you didn’t recognize me. Alaina didn’t, either.”
“You got her smile—your mom’s, that is. Did even when you was a baby. You used to follow me all around the house when I was trying to do my work. If I ignored you, you’d clutch my leg and I’d go dragging you down the hall, you riding my leg and giggling so hard it gave you the hiccups.”
Danae smiled. “I wish I could remember that.”
“Maybe you will someday. I know you was just a little thing, but being here, in the house, you might get a flash of memory now and then.”
Amos sat up a little straighter and rubbed his old blue jeans with one hand. “You’re staying at the house, right?”
“No. I’m still living in my rental. It’s on estate property and William said that was good enough to satisfy the requirements of the will.”
>
The relief on the old caretaker’s face was apparent. “That’s good. I don’t like the idea of you being in that house.”
“I am there during the day, though. William hired me to go through paperwork for the estate, but I’m not alone. The contractor William hired is there with me.”
“I guess that’s all right, then.” But he didn’t look convinced.
“Is there any reason you don’t want me to be there?”
Amos stared at the sidewalk and nodded. “I haven’t told no one. They’ll all think it’s just the ramblings of an old man, but I know what happened.”
“What happened when?”
“When I broke my foot.”
“I thought you fell down the stairs. That’s what William said.”
“Because that’s what I told everyone, but the truth is, I ain’t walked up them stairs in ten years or better. Sometimes went a month or more without seeing your stepfather. Hadn’t seen him in months when I found him dead on the floor right there in the entry.”
Her mind immediately created a visual image of Purcell’s cold, lifeless body splayed across the marble floor of the entry, and she crossed her arms over her chest, suddenly feeling a chill.
“So how did you break your foot?”
“I was leaving the house by the back door, like I always do. It was still daylight, so I could see clearly. I stepped outside and fumbled a bit for my keys. When I started to turn around to lock the door, someone shoved me.”
Danae sucked in a breath.
“Hit both my shoulders like a freight train,” Amos continued. “I took a step back, trying to get my balance, but he’d hit me too hard. I twisted my ankle on the way down, then banged it pretty good on the stone patio.”
“Who shoved you? Why didn’t you call the police?”
“Because no one would have believed me.”
“Why not? You were turning around. You had a clear view of your attacker.”
Amos shook his head, his eyes wide. “Wasn’t no one there.”
“I don’t understand. You said someone pushed you...”
“Yep, and that’s the God’s honest truth. Felt his fingers pushing into the tops of my shoulders, but couldn’t see a thing.”
She sucked in a breath. “You’re saying a ghost pushed you?”
“I know what it sounds like, which is why I lied. But I don’t want to lie to Ophelia’s girls, and I don’t want any of you in danger in that house.”
“And you think we’re in danger?”
Amos nodded. “Your stepfather was a nasty man. I ain’t got no proof of it, but I’d dare and say he was evil. I stuck around all those years because I knew one day you and your sisters would return. I knew it in my heart. But after your mother passed, things felt different. Heavy, like something was constantly pressing down on me, trying to smother me.”
Danae nodded. “It’s an oppressive atmosphere.”
“Exactly. Your stepfather never liked you girls. Never liked anyone being in the house unless it couldn’t be helped and took darn near an act of God to get him out of it.”
She stared at him. “You think my stepfather is haunting the house?”
“I know it sounds crazy, but I don’t think he’s ever left. That feeling I always got when I was alone in the house with him is still there. And I could swear I smelled Wild Turkey when I fell. He was always drinking Wild Turkey. I haven’t been able to stand the smell for over twenty years.”
Danae took a deep breath and blew it slowly out, trying to make sense of what the caretaker said. His expression—half earnest, half afraid—told her that he believed every word he’d said. But was his aging mind playing tricks on him?
“Why would my stepfather haunt the house?”
Amos shook his head. “My granny used to say that your spirit only stuck around on this earth if your body died and your soul was vexed.”
“Like if someone was in a highly emotional state or a crisis?”
“Yep.”
“But that doesn’t make sense for Purcell. He had a mansion to live in and didn’t have to work. What could be keeping him here?”
“Anger.”
She stared at Amos, the conversation with Carter playing back in her mind. “Carter found out Purcell didn’t have free access to the estate money—just an allowance and the ability to buy assets of approved value. Carter thinks he was buying stuff and then selling it for the cash.”
Amos nodded. “That very well could be. Whenever he’d show himself, he was usually grumbling about being stuck in the house. I always thought it was odd that he stayed as he didn’t seem to like anything about it, but if what you say is true, then I guess he couldn’t leave.”
“Not unless he wanted to support himself, and apparently, he was willing to give up his life to avoid work.” She shook her head. “I’ve known some lazy people in my day, but never anything like that. It doesn’t make sense.”
Amos narrowed his eyes at her. “It does if he was hiding from someone even worse than him.”
The conversation with Amos ran through Danae’s mind a hundred times on the drive to her cabin. Carter’s cursory check into Purcell’s background had yielded almost nothing but maybe he’d find more in New Orleans. Maybe the fingerprints would give them some information about the mysterious man who’d removed her mother from society and given away her children as if they were unwanted pets.
Maybe Amos was right. Maybe Purcell used Ophelia’s remote estate to escape a worse fate. When she’d died, he probably thought he would collect an amount of money that allowed him to go to the far reaches of the earth to hide from his past. And when he heard the terms of the will, he got angry.
His escape to Calais became his prison.
Chapter Fourteen
Carter paced the interview room at the New Orleans Police Station, his coffee sitting forgotten and cold on the table. His former captain hadn’t even hesitated when Carter had asked him to lift and run the prints, and he’d been astounded when Carter told him about all the trouble going on in the tiny town of Calais.
The captain had warned him the lab was backed up and it might take a while, but Carter didn’t have any business in New Orleans other than Purcell and no other leads if the fingerprints didn’t provide them. He reached for the coffee and sighed when he felt the cold cup. Maybe he should take a walk around the block—something just to get out of the building.
Just as he made up his mind to leave, the door opened and the captain walked in, carrying a stack of paper. His expression left no doubt that not only had he found something, but that he also didn’t like it.
“You’ve really stepped in the middle of a hornet’s nest,” the captain said. “Those prints hadn’t been loaded five minutes before the computer screen started whirling so fast I was afraid it would fry. I printed it all out and hurried in here before the phone calls start.”
Carter stared. “Who was he—D. B. Cooper?”
“Close enough. His real name was Raymond Lambert, and he was a hit man for the Primeaux family. They run a lot of the adult-trade business in New Orleans and dabble a bit in threats and extortion. Got a couple of politicians in their pocket, if you ask me, but I haven’t been able to put a case together yet.”
Carter slumped onto the table. “You’re kidding me. What the hell was a hit man doing in Calais?”
“My guess is he was hiding. Says here that word on the street was old man Primeaux put a price on his head, but no one has ever heard why. Lambert simply disappeared twenty-five years ago and everyone figured someone from the Primeaux family had caught up with him.”
“That definitely fits with what little I know about the man. Everyone assumed he was agoraphobic, but maybe he was just lying low to avoid the risk of being identified.”
“Seems an odd choice to make for a man in his mid-forties, but some people will do almost anything to avoid an honest day’s work. He probably figured he could eventually talk the widow into leaving Louisiana.”
“Probably,” Carter agreed. “The police didn’t look into his disappearance?”
“Of course—we’re cops. But you know how those families operate. They close ranks and you can’t get anyone talking, not even about each other.”
“So he left New Orleans and became Trenton Purcell and romanced a young widow for her fortune.”
“Looks like. What I don’t understand is, why didn’t he leave Calais after the widow died?”
“I can answer that one,” Carter said and gave the captain a rundown of the terms of the estate.
When he finished, the captain whistled. “I bet he was madder than a hornet. Probably thought he’d won the lottery when she passed so young, and then finds out he’s tied to those four walls in the middle of the swamp unless he wants to leave with the shirt on his back. That probably didn’t do anything to improve his disposition.”
“He was a nasty man. The more I find out about him, the more I wish he was still alive so that I could throttle him myself.”
The captain nodded. “There’s a name in the file—an FBI agent who was working up a case against the family about the time Lambert disappeared. He’s retired now, but still lives in New Orleans. I wrote his name and phone number on the top of the printout. Thought if you had time, you might want to talk to him.”
Carter took the printout from the captain and glanced at the name and telephone number penciled on the top sheet. “Yeah, that would be great.”
The captain extended his hand to Carter. “It was good seeing you, Trahan. If you ever change your mind about coming back to the force, I’d be happy to have you.”
Carter shook his hand and nodded. “Thanks, sir, but I think Calais is where I belong.”
The captain shook his head. “Seems your attempt to move to a simpler place has failed you all the way around.”
“Seems like,” Carter agreed. “But I’m going to fix that.”
* * *
DANAE STUCK HER HAND out of the shower and reached for the towel hanging on the hook next to it. The hot water had done wonders for her neck and back, both of which had grown increasingly tighter as the day had worn on, culminating with all-out knots after her conversation with Amos.
