At least there were ways to combat pedophiles. Cops staked out schoolyards and parks, anywhere children played, looking for that lone man watching with too much interest. But how do you find a random psychopath? Where do those freaks find their victims? What criteria do they follow? He went back to the first victim, Daisy LeBlanc, age eight.
Her family lived in Jefferson Parish, right next door to Orleans Parish. He stared at the beaming blue-eyed girl in her school picture. Her long blonde hair was parted on the side with a big bow holding it in place. She was a pretty little girl, but what made her stand out for the ritual?
The article stated that her mother found her bed empty when she went to wake her for school. Mr. and Mrs. LeBlanc had two younger children. The police questioned the family extensively, but no one heard a sound. The first floor window showed signs of forced entry.
Luc made a note to check if all the homes were single-story structures. That would make it easier for the kidnappers to gain access. Was that an important factor when selecting a child? The other thing that stood out to him was that the victims were not all white, some were of mixed race or black.
That in itself was unusual. He’d read somewhere that victims were usually the same race as the perpetrator. Now there was no way to pinpoint the exact race of the Bokor. Still he would bet he wasn’t white, not that there weren’t white converts, but the head of the cult, the one in authority, would most likely be of Haitian or African decent to gain devotees.
Luc read the follow-up articles on Daisy’s disappearance. There was one mention of the father being questioned alone at the station, but then nothing else. He guessed the notion was thrown out the window the moment the second child went missing.
Katherine ‘Katy’ O’Brian, age seven, lived in St. Tammany Parish. It too bordered Orleans Parish, could that be the link? It sure as hell wasn’t her looks. Katy had long red hair and green eyes. They were in different grades in different schools. Although smiling, she showed no teeth. He got the impression she was shy, whereas Daisy had a vivacious personality.
He read the article further and learned that Katy’s bedroom window was on the second floor. He crossed that off his list. Now he was back to square one. Well, almost. Both girls were taken during the new moon and the parishes they lived in bordered Orleans Parish. Not a hell of a lot to go on.
Katy was an only child and her father was deceased, her mother was raising her alone. The rest of the story was pretty much the same; the mother awoke to find her daughter missing. She too heard nothing. The police had no clues to either girls’ whereabouts and no leads at press time.
Next on the list was Jennifer Platt, age five. She lived in St. John the Baptist Parish, which did not share a boarder with Orleans Parish. Damn, another thing to cross off his list. The picture of the mixed race child with big brown eyes showed her in a frilly pink tutu with her unruly black hair pulled into two poufs for ponytails.
Luc had to laugh, he could just tell she was a little rascal. He didn’t normally get a sense of one’s personality when he gazed at their photo, but for some reason these children were different. As if whomever was guiding him to help these kids thought he should really know them. Unfortunately, there was nothing new in her story either.
He set her newspaper articles aside and moved on to Lily Pierre-Auguste from St. Charles Parish, age six. Her short brown hair came to her shoulders and was parted down the middle, two pink barrettes kept the hair in place. She looked like she was dressed for the Christmas pageant in an angel’s costume with wings and a halo. Her personality flashed through his mind; she was a girly-girl who loved ruffles.
Luc stared at her hazel eyes and cockeyed grin. The way her hands clasped demurely in front of her. She did look like an angel. He lined up the photos and gazed at them. All the children resembled angels.
“Someone is rounding up little angels and sacrificing them to Satan.”
“What?”
Startled, Luc glanced up to see Jake had entered the room.
“What are you up to?” Jake came up beside Luc and stared down at the table.
“I’ve been going through the newspaper articles I gathered yesterday to see if I could find common ground between the victims.”
“And have you?” Jake pulled up a chair.
Luc ran down his notes and summed everything up for him so far.
“There’s another here.” Luc fished around in his pile of paperwork. “Glenn Brady, age six, from Tangipahoa Parish.” Luc centered the photo between them. The boy had brown hair and a darker complexion, his smile showed a missing front tooth. In the photo, he was playing with a dump truck in a sandbox.
“Obviously, the ritual didn’t specify whether the virgin had to be male or female,” Jake said.
“Right. Also, his neighborhood is in a rough area.”
“So the social economics of the families don’t play a role in the selection process,” Jake stated.
“It doesn’t appear to.”
Jake scooted back his chair. “I’ll be right back.”
Luc watched him head toward Frank’s study. He waited a couple of seconds, but when he didn’t immediately return, Luc got back to the story. Glenn was sleeping at the back of the house, while his parents slept in the front.
From the picture, it looked more like a screened-in porch than a bedroom. He skimmed the page. It was the porch. According to Mrs. Brady, both Glenn and his brother Lyle were sleeping on the porch the last few nights because of the heat.
“I locked the back door. I never would have thought my boys would be in danger in their own backyard,” she sobbed.
The kidnappers gained entrance by cutting the screen away from its frame and removing the boy while his brother slept on a nearby cot.
“Shit, that’s bold.”
“What is?” Jake came toward him holding a large book that was not familiar to Luc.
“Glenn was taken from the family’s screened-in porch while his brother slept just a few feet from him,” Luc replied.
“Wow, that’s ballsy.” Jake set the hefty tome on the table and pulled up his chair.
“What have you got there?”
“Louisiana Atlas, it’s full of maps from around the state. I thought I might look up the parishes and see what we could find.” Jake opened up to the table of contents and ran his index finger down until he found what he was looking for.
He began flipping pages until he stopped and opened the book wide. There in front of them was a map of the entire state broken down into parishes. “Okay, read them off to me.”
“St. Charles, Jefferson, St. John the Baptist, St Tammany, and Tangipahoa.”
“Holy shit,” Jake said, more to himself.
FIFTEEN
“What?” Luc leaned over to see where Jake had his finger.
“All five of those parishes meet at one point. I wonder what’s there?”
“We need to find out. Whatever it is could be the answer.”
Jake flipped more pages until he came to a more detailed map. “That spot happens to be in the middle of Lake Pontchartrain. Unless we’re looking for buried treasure, I don’t think that’s the answer.”
“Okay, then go to the nearest parcel of land.” Luc said.
“There’s this tiny strip here.” Jake pointed. “It’s part of St. John the Baptist Parish. There is a town there called Ruddock.”
“I bet the answer is there.” Luc’s excitement grew.
Jake went to the glossary, looked up Ruddock, and went to that page. “Ruddock is a ghost town located on an isthmus between Lakes Ponchartrain and Maurepas. It was destroyed in 1915 by a hurricane, but there is still an exit for it on Highway 55.”
“That’s peculiar. By the time the highway was built, there was nothing left of that town.”
Jake stared at him with an incredulous look. “What about this entire situation isn’t peculiar?”
“True.”
Jake read from the page. “In 1892, William Burton
and C. H. Ruddock founded the Ruddock Cypress Company. They constructed a sawmill and a town to serve their business; the town became Ruddock. In 1902, the sawmill burned down and was later rebuilt. By 1910, the town had a population of 700.
“The 1915 New Orleans Hurricane hit in September, destroying the town and killing 58 residents of Ruddock and the nearby town of Frenier. Ruddock has since become overgrown by vegetation, and all that remains of the settlement is rotted wood from the buildings.”
Spirit deflated, Luc slumped in his chair. “Great. Now what?”
Jake turned to him. “It might still be a clue. You want to check it out? By my calculations, it’s rather close, less than an hour’s drive.”
“Should we take Celestine?” Luc asked.
“Not this time, she doesn’t get off until six tonight. I don’t work today, so we can go anytime.”
They grabbed a couple of apples and a few bottles of water before they headed out the door. Jake was right, they reached the exit to Ruddock in forty-five minutes. They drove as far as they could and parked. What they found was a boat ramp with a chain-link fence, a heavy lock secured the gate. A white egret rested on the water side of the dock.
“What do you want to do now?” Luc asked.
“I say we check out the woods.” Jake slammed his door and the bird took flight.
Luc grabbed his backpack with the extra water bottles and followed Jake into a tall grove of trees so thick the foliage formed a canopy that blocked out the sun. As they burrowed deeper into their lush surroundings, the Jeep no longer within eyesight, their feet began to sink. The toes of Luc’s hiking boots disappeared into the mud.
The area was filled with the sounds of birds calling and crickets rubbing their tiny legs. Soon the cicadas joined in on the chorus. An hour later, they stopped for a break, sitting on a fallen log. Hot, sweaty and thirsty, they each grabbed a bottle of water from the backpack.
“There’s nothing out here. I say we go back,” Jake said.
“Maybe a little further. I have a feeling there’s something here, I just can’t get a handle on what yet.” Luc stood, took off his t-shirt and wiped his face with it before he tucked it into the waistband of his jeans.
“Okay. Lead the way,” Jake said.
Thirty minutes later the sky grew darker and they both stopped to look up. Threatening black clouds blocked what little sun they’d been afforded.
“Do you hear that?” Jake asked.
“What?”
Jake hesitated a second with his head cocked. “Voices.”
Luc shook his head. “I don’t hear a thing.”
“It’s coming from over there.” Jake pointed to the left.
Luc saw nothing but trees. “I’ll follow you.”
Five minutes passed. “It sounds like chanting,” Jake said.
Ten more minutes and they came to a clearing. “The voices have stopped.”
A broken-down shack stood alone. Dead animals hung across the porch, along with several mobiles made from bones.
“I’d say it’s because whoever lives here knows we’re here,” Luc said under his breath. A chill ran through his otherwise hot and sweaty body.
As they got closer, a hot wind blew.
The dead animals danced before them.
A more macabre sight there never was.
Luc grabbed Jake’s arm. “Let’s get out of here,” he whispered.
“You don’t have to ask me twice,” Jake murmured.
They backed away, glancing in all directions until they felt it was safe enough to run. They weaved in and out of trees, their feet splashing mud up onto the legs of their pants. Lightning lit up the sky and a bolt hit a tree in their path. Jumping back, they stopped and looked at one another. Neither one mentioned the obvious, if that lightning hit the water, they’d be electrocuted.
“This way,” Jake said. Luc followed him. As they began to pick up speed, a dark figure appeared in their path and they stopped short. A woman in a black sheath stood before them, her eyes glowed red. Live snakes squirmed on her head, as if she were Medusa in the flesh. Chicken feet dangled from her earlobes and she wore a necklace made of tiny bones.
Her hands rose above her head as if she were conducting an orchestra. Another bolt of lightning struck a tree to the left of Luc. It was so close he could feel the electric current. He grabbed Jake’s arm and headed to the right of the woman. She didn’t move her body, but her head swiveled as it followed their progress.
Luc glanced over his shoulder to see if she was following. She wasn’t, but now her head was on completely backwards. A fear deeper than he’d ever imagined engulfed him. He was witnessing pure evil. A loud cackle echoed throughout the forest, following them no matter how far they ran.
Luc had no idea if they were heading in the right direction; the only purpose in mind at that point was to get as far away from her as possible. Up on his right, something flashed, he turned his head in time to see a disembodied African tribal mask floating between the trees, and just like that it was gone.
On his left another appeared, then disappeared. It happened two more times, right and left. They seemed familiar to him somehow. Then his dream from the night before filled his head. They were the same masks worn by the serviteurs.
Luc caught a glimpse of the oxygenated red paint from the Jeep up ahead. Their feet finally hit solid ground. Exhausted and out of breath, Luc’s gait slowed to a jog and Jake ran past. The sound of crunching leaves underfoot mixed with the pounding of his heart and his gasping for air.
Jake hit the hood of the Jeep with both hands and his body doubled over. Panting, he searched his pockets. As he pulled out the keys, he turned toward Luc. “Hurry. We’ve got to get out of here.”
Luc was just a few feet away when he was yanked hard from behind. He landed on his ass before he was dragged backward with such force he couldn’t turn around to see what had him.
“Luc!” Jake raced toward him, but he wasn’t quick enough.
Luc was helpless as his butt ran over roots and rocks embedded in the ground. He tried to grab at trees as he flew past. He yelled from the pain. The lower half of his body was burning from the friction, and he feared he’d catch fire.
At last he was able to jerk his head back, but all he could see was a hand with long bony fingers and yellow nails holding onto his backpack. He had to get it off. He reached for the pocket in his jeans, but he was having trouble getting his hand inside. Finally, he clasped his switchblade and pulled it out.
He worked the blade on the shoulder strap, trying to avoid cutting himself, but that wasn’t getting the job done. So he gritted his teeth and slid the blade under the material and sawed back and forth. He could feel the knife cut into his skin, but ignored it.
Before long it gave way. With one arm free, the other side slipped off just as Jake flew through the air, going for a tackle. He landed on his stomach with an oomph, his hands clasped around Luc’s ankles. Dust stirred up around them. Jake climbed to his feet and pulled Luc up. This time they made it to the Jeep together.
Stunned, neither one spoke the entire ride home. They sat in the vehicle long after they’d parked, staring at the house in silence. He didn’t know about Jake, but Luc was not eager to run into Clara. He was covered in dust from head to toe.
The shirt he’d left the house in was long gone, so now his back sat naked against the vinyl seat. His boots were covered in mud, something he would have to remedy before stepping on Clara’s floors. Jake had handed him a rag from the backseat to cover the wound on his shoulder. The cut had stopped bleeding, but again, he wasn’t about to let Clara see it.
“It’s just after six. I’m almost certain Clara is still in there. How the hell are we going to get up the stairs and cleaned up before she sees us?”
Jake stared at him. “That’s a good question. You look like you’ve been through a tornado. I have absolutely no idea how we would explain that.”
“We need to go somewhere else until she leav
es for the night.”
“Do you have any ideas to go with that fabulous theory? We can’t exactly go for a pizza with you looking like that.”
Quiet ensued as they pondered that.
“Algiers!” Luc all but shouted. “It’s after six, the shop will be closed. Celestine might take us in.”
“Good idea.” Jake started the engine and the Jeep rumbled to life. They pulled up in the alley behind the shop and got out. “Holy shit,” Jake said behind Luc.
He stopped and turned around. “What?”
“Your jeans, the seat and the back of your legs have been reduced to threads, you can see your skin through it,” Jake informed him.
“It burns like a son-of-a-bitch. I must have road rash.”
“You still want me to knock?” Jake asked.
Just then, the door opened and Celestine stood there. “I didn’t know we had plans to meet up.”
“We didn’t, but we ran into a bit of trouble,” Jake said.
She looked at Jake, then when she got to Luc, her eyes widened. She stepped back and opened the door wide. “Come in and tell me about it.”
They took off their muddy boots and socks before following her into the sitting room. The smell of garlic and Cajun spices filled the home. Luc’s stomach growled so loud she giggled. A box air conditioner rattled from a nearby window. A ceiling fan rotated lazily above.
Luc remained standing after the other two had sat. “Do you have a towel or something I can sit on? I’m kind of dirty.”
She pointed to a round chair beneath a brightly colored sheath. “Sit there, I can throw the cover in the wash later.”
He hesitated, but she nodded, so he sat gingerly.
Celestine curled her bare feet up under her floral summer dress. “Now tell me what happened to you two.”
They told her the story, overlapping at times to make sure all the facts were reported. Luc watched her face go from surprised to pissed off. By the time they’d finished, her face was as red as a ripe tomato. She jumped out of her chair and began pacing the floor. Angry Creole words spat out of her mouth in rapid succession while her arms flailed about.
Spirits of the Bayou Page 10
