The Betrayed

by Jana DeLeon

  * * *

  ZACH’S TRUCK SLID to a stop in front of Willamina’s house and he jumped out, his pistol clenched in his right hand. Before he reached the front door, Doc Broussard opened it and hurried outside.

  “Hold it right there,” Zach said and pointed his gun at the doctor.

  Doc Broussard’s face paled and his eyes widened, as he froze in place. “What in the world is wrong with you?”

  “What did you do with Danae?”

  “I didn’t do anything with her. I was with Cherise when I heard a commotion outside. When I looked out, Danae’s car was racing away.”

  “She figured out it was you, didn’t she?”

  “What was me? You’re beginning to worry me.”

  “You knew Purcell murdered Ophelia. You called her death natural causes so that there wouldn’t be an autopsy.”

  Doc Broussard’s jaw dropped and he stared at Zach for several seconds. “Murdered?”

  Zach studied the other man closely, but if he was acting, he was really good at it. “Yes, murdered. Purcell’s been paying for the cover-up for years, including your part.”

  Doc Broussard shook his head, the disbelief clear in his expression. “But I didn’t pronounce Ophelia. I’d broken my leg hunting—”

  “Damn!” Suddenly, everything snapped together and the picture was clear.

  “Was she alone in the car?”

  “I... It looked like two people, but I couldn’t be sure.”

  “Call Carter,” he yelled at the stunned doctor. “Tell him everything.”

  “Wait! Where are you going?”

  “I’ve got to find Danae before Roger Martin kills her.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Zach slammed his truck in Reverse, then floored it down the gravel road, his mind processing all the pieces that had just fallen neatly into place. Doc Broussard had told them the story about breaking his leg hunting, and how he knew something hit him, but no tracks or weapon had been found. It was the sheriff who’d searched the woods.

  Sheriff Roger Martin.

  He’d claimed he found nothing, but Zach would bet anything it was because Martin was the one who’d clocked Doc Broussard. With the doctor out of the way, the sheriff would have called Ophelia’s death.

  All those years ago, those men had staged the perfect crime. If Trenton Purcell hadn’t insisted on keeping records, Roger Martin might have gone to the grave without anyone the wiser.

  Like his dad.

  Zach clenched his jaw, pushing that thought to the back of his mind. It was something he’d have to find a way to deal with, but that could wait. First, he had to save Danae.

  If Doc Broussard saw two people in her car, he had no doubt the other was Martin, but where would he take her? In fact, the documents Martin wanted were in the backseat of Danae’s car, so why take her at all? The only thing Zach could figure was that she caught him trying to take the documents.

  So if he had the documents, where was he taking her now?

  The house!

  The answer came to him in a flash and he cursed himself for being so stupid. There could be other documents in the house that implicated Martin. He would have to return to the house and make sure those documents were never found.

  He punched the accelerator down and gripped the steering wheel with both hands, struggling to keep the car from jolting off the cavity-filled road. Never had the drive to the house seemed longer or the road in worse shape than right now, and he prayed he wasn’t too late.

  Martin had no idea anyone was onto him. He wouldn’t hesitate to eliminate Danae if he thought she was his only living threat. Zach would bet money that was exactly what happened to Jack.

  He stopped just short of the house, figuring if Martin didn’t know he was there, he would have the advantage. Hoping like hell the window he’d released was still unlocked, he ran through the patch of swamp between the road and the house. He approached from the side, praying they were in Purcell’s office, where no windows existed.

  Danae’s car was parked in the center of the drive in front of the main entry. Shards from the broken window glinted in the sunlight, giving Zach a good idea of what Danae had walked up on.

  He didn’t even hesitate before running across the small open area to the side of the house. Gripping the window with both hands, he eased it up, trying not to make any noise. The window stuck a couple of times, but he pushed a bit harder and managed to get it up enough to crawl inside.

  He raced to the doorway and stopped to listen. Faint scuffling sounded on the second floor, but not directly above him. His instincts had been right. They were in Purcell’s office. He slipped out of the bedroom and flattened himself against the wall, careful to stay well below the second-floor balcony. He paused directly below Purcell’s office only long enough to ascertain that Martin was up there, then continued along the wall until he reached the hallway to the laundry room.

  He couldn’t approach the office from the balcony without being seen, but if he took the servants’ stairs into Purcell’s bedroom, he might be able to get the jump on Martin. He had no doubt the other man had a gun—otherwise Danae would have fought him at Willamina’s—so he had to be careful. The last thing he wanted was for Danae to be injured in the cross fire.

  The door to the servants’ stairs opened without a sound, further convincing Zach that Martin or Jack had been in residence when he and Danae were in the house. The hinges were well-oiled, and none of the wooden steps were loose—a far cry from the condition of the rest of the house.

  He stopped at the top of the stairs and put his ear to the door, trying to determine whether anyone was in the bedroom. The noises he heard didn’t sound as if they were right on the other side of the door, but with the high ceilings and impossible drafts, it was hard to be certain.

  Taking a deep breath, he cracked open the door and peered out into the dim bedroom. What he could see of the room was empty, so he widened the crack enough to see the entry to the office. The light from the balcony streamed into the office, giving it more illumination than the dank bedroom. It was just enough light to create shadows.

  Zach waited until the shadows moved, then eased the door open wide enough to slip into the bedroom. He crept across the bedroom floor to the office entry and listened, trying to gauge Martin’s position in the room.

  “Where is the money?” Martin asked. “I know Purcell hid the cash somewhere in here.”

  “I didn’t find any cash,” Danae said.

  “Lying whore. I know what you are, with your thrift-shop clothes and your cheap haircut. You hid the money for yourself. Now tell me where it is!”

  “Even if I had it, why would I tell you? You’re going to kill me anyway. Just get on with it. Set the place on fire and burn me down with your blood money.”

  Zach’s stomach clenched and he gripped his pistol tighter. Martin’s plan was perfect, but he’d been mistaken on one key element—that Danae had people who loved her and were hot on his trail.

  He couldn’t tell by the voices where either Martin or Danae were positioned in the office, but he couldn’t wait any longer. It was a risk he’d have to take. Clutching his pistol in the ready position, he sprang around the corner and came face-to-face with the worst possible scenario.

  Martin stood in the doorway between the office and the balcony, his gun pointed directly at Danae, who stood handcuffed in the middle of the office, facing Zach. He didn’t have a clear shot at Martin, and Martin could shoot a lot quicker than Danae could duck.

  “Well, what do we have here?” Martin said. “Looks like the heiress has a rescuer. What a shame that he’s not better suited for the job. Now, I want you to put your pistol on the desk and step back or your girlfriend takes one to the head. You don’t want to see that, do you?”

  The blood rushed from Danae’s face and Zach’s trigger finger twitched, aching for the clear shot that simply wasn’t going to come. He didn’t doubt for a moment that Martin would do exactly what he threate
ned, but even if Zach complied, he had no doubt the end result would be the same.

  If he dived and attempted a shot, at least he had a chance. If he put his pistol on the desk, it was all over.

  He looked at Danae, hoping she understood what he was about to do and why. Hoping she had some idea of what she meant to him. A single tear ran down her cheek and she gave him an almost imperceptible nod. He clenched the pistol and prepared to dive.

  But before he could act, a shimmering light appeared above them, bright as a spotlight and growing in size.

  “What the hell?” Martin shouted. “What kind of trick is this? Do what I say now or I kill you both right here.”

  A crackle of electricity broke through the room, flashing so bright it was as if lightning had struck right there inside the office. Zach put his free hand up to shield himself from the brightness and saw hands reach out from the light and shove Danae to the ground.

  He couldn’t see through the light at all, but instantly, Zach fired at the doorway. Martin yelled and Zach fired again and again, praying that he’d at least managed to disarm him.

  He heard the crack of wood, like a branch splintering, a scream and then a loud thud. The crackle of electricity vanished as quickly as it came, and the light began to fade. Zach rushed out of the office to the broken railing and looked over. A growing pool of blood seeped from under Martin’s head, matching the three holes in his chest.

  Zach ran back into the office and sank down onto the floor to gather Danae in his arms.

  “Look,” she whispered and pointed to the fading light.

  Zach looked over and gasped. Inside the light was the figure of a woman. She wore a long white gown and smiled at Danae before fading completely away.

  “It was my mother,” Danae said. “The two of you saved me.”

  “I was so afraid I’d lost you.”

  “I was afraid, too, but somewhere deep down, I knew you’d come for me. I’ve never felt that with someone before. I was scared of the feelings.”

  “You don’t have to explain.”

  “No, but I have to say this—I don’t blame you for hiding the truth when you came to Calais. I wanted to be upset, but the reality is, I did the same thing. I understand your reasons, and I want you to know that I don’t hold you responsible for anything your father might have done. His choices were his own.”

  The great weight on Zach’s shoulders disappeared in an instant. The past troubled him, and probably always would, but it didn’t compare to the worry he’d had that the only person who mattered to his future might not be able to reconcile the past with the future.

  “I tried to avoid my feelings, too,” Zach said, “but somewhere along the line, I fell in love with you. When I saw you standing there, with that gun pointed at you, it was as if my entire life were over. I don’t want to be without you, Danae.”

  “I don’t want to be without you, either.”

  He cupped his hands around her face and leaned over to gently kiss her.

  So much work remained—working for the estate, uncovering the past—but with Danae in his arms and his heart, Zach knew it would be okay.

  Epilogue

  One month later

  Danae clutched Zach’s hand as they waited outside of William Duhon’s law office for Alaina and Carter, who were crossing the street. Alaina lifted her hand to wave at them and Danae smiled and waved back with her free hand, marveling at how much her life had changed in thirty days.

  Carter, along with the state police, investigated everything and found the weapon used to murder Jack in Roger Martin’s boat. He’d tried to clean it off, but his fingerprints were right there, along with microscopic traces of Jack’s blood. Based on the way things turned out and Danae’s account of Martin saying Jack paid for his incompetence, the state police were happy to mark the file solved and get back to New Orleans.

  Danae finished out her two weeks in her cabin with Zach at her side and in her bed. Alaina returned days after Zach killed Roger Martin, and the two sisters had spent long hours talking about their past, present and future. Danae was amazed at how quickly her attachment to Alaina had formed and now couldn’t imagine a life without her sister. Both of them prayed daily that William would locate Joelle soon, as she was the missing piece that would make everything whole.

  If anyone had told Danae when she came to Calais that she’d acquire a family and a fortune, she would have laughed. Of the two, she was happiest with the family.

  She’d talked at length with Zach and Alaina about what happened that day in the office—about what she and Zach saw in the light. Danae was certain it was her mother and could still feel her mother’s hands on her, pushing her out of harm’s way. Alaina, normally focused only on facts and proof, didn’t hesitate to believe everything they said. They’d spent many hours in the house since then, hoping that their mother would appear to them again, but it seemed as if she’d vanished as quickly as she’d appeared.

  She continued her work for William but so far hadn’t found anything that shed more light on her mother’s death or how Zach’s father was involved. But she’d already promised she wouldn’t stop looking until she’d reviewed every last sheet of paper in the house.

  Beginning next week, that review would take place in Zach’s flat in New Orleans so that Zach could return to his real-life responsibilities of managing huge construction projects. They’d spend weekends in Calais, working on the house, continuing the inventory work and spending time with Alaina and Carter.

  Then next spring, Danae would start culinary school, fulfilling a lifelong dream.

  Despite what they were about to do, Danae couldn’t keep herself from grinning as Alaina stepped onto the sidewalk and gave Danae and Zach a hug. Carter shook Zach’s hand and kissed Danae’s cheek. All of them looked a little nervous.

  “Are you sure you want to do this?” Carter asked.

  Alaina slipped her hand into Danae’s and squeezed as she studied her sister’s face and nodded.

  “We’re sure,” Danae said.

  Carter opened the door to the law office so they could enter. “Then let’s go make it happen.”

  The secretary was expecting them and directed them straight to William’s office. The attorney jumped up from his chair and hurried over to greet them, a big smile on his face.

  “It’s so good to see all of you...and especially together,” William said. “Ophelia would have been pleased with her daughters’ choices in men.” He sniffed and took his seat, waving at them to sit in the chairs in front of the desk.

  “When I heard you all wanted to speak to me,” William said after they were seated, “I couldn’t imagine what it was about. Something good, I hope? Marriage-license information? Joint retirement accounts?”

  Zach and Carter glanced at each other, looking a bit uncomfortable, and Alaina laughed. “You’re going to scare them out of here, William. Besides, Willamina has already claimed control of all till-death-do-us-part stuff.”

  William smiled. “Then I’ll leave her to it. I learned a long time ago not to step into women’s territory, especially Willamina’s. So if it’s not couples’ business, what can I help you with?”

  Danae looked over at Alaina. “Go ahead,” she said. This was legal business, and she wanted her sister the attorney to take the lead.

  “It depends on your definition of good,” Alaina said, “but we do think it’s necessary.”

  William nodded. “I’ll do my best to provide anything you need.”

  Alaina reached over for Danae’s hand once more, and Danae could feel her sister’s hand trembling as she clutched her own.

  “We want to exhume our mother.”

  * * * * *

  Look for the heart-stopping conclusion

  of Jana DeLeon’s miniseries

  MYSTERE PARISH: FAMILY INHERITANCE when THE REUNION goes on sale next month.

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  Chapter One

  She had that Earth Mother kind of natural feminine beauty, the type of woman who belonged at a bake sale or a PTA meeting, not in an interrogation room on the Texas border. Then again, smugglers came in all shapes and sizes.

  Dressed in mom jeans and a simple T-shirt—a crew neck, so there wasn’t even a hint of cleavage—she wore precious little makeup. Her chestnut hair hung in a simple ponytail, no highlights, nothing fancy. She did her best to look and sound innocent.

  Moses Mann, undercover special commando, did his best not to fall for the act. “Let’s try it again, and go for the truth this time.”

  If all her wholesome goodness swayed him, he was professional enough not to show it as he questioned her. He wasn’t in the small, airless interrogation room in the back of an office trailer to appreciate Molly Rogers’s curves. He was here to pry into her deepest secrets.

  “When did you first suspect that your brother, Dylan Rogers, was involved in illegal activities?”

  The smell of her shampoo, something old-fashioned like lemon verbena, filled the air and tickled Mo’s nose. He kept his face impassive as he leaned back in his metal folding chair and looked across the desk at her.

  Anger flared in her green eyes. “My brother didn’t do anything illegal,” she said in a measured tone. “Someone framed him.”