The Reunion: The Secret of Cypriere Bayou

by Jana DeLeon

  * * *

  IT WAS ALMOST dawn when more glasses of champagne and soda than Joelle could count sent her shuffling down the hall to the bathroom. She and her sisters had sat up in the bedroom, talking through the wee hours of the morning until none of them could stay awake any longer. Carter had been and gone hours before, promising to follow up with the Jackson police and to let her know the next morning what their thoughts were.

  Tyler had taken everything in when she’d explained the situation to Carter, but hadn’t said a word. Then the two men had spoken for some time outside at Carter’s truck, and Joelle had no doubt they were comparing notes and formulating a plan to keep the womenfolk safe. At any other time, the feminist in her might have found it annoying, but the genuine concern kept her from feeling anything but grateful that such capable men had her back.

  Wincing as a floorboard creaked, she glanced at the bedroom where Tyler was staying. It had unnerved her a bit that a mere wall would separate them, but he wanted to be in hearing distance, just in case. The door was pulled mostly shut, leaving only a thin crack with moonlight streaming through it.

  She was almost to the bathroom when her foot brushed across something hard and cold. The dim glow from the entry lights illuminated the balcony, and she could see something shiny on the floor. As she bent over to pick it up, she realized it was a quarter. She clasped her fingers around it and looked up before straightening. From that position, she could see through the balcony banisters down into the massive entry.

  A flash of pain came over her and in an instant, twenty-five years slipped away.

  * * *

  MOMMY WAS CRYING again. She cried a lot since the bad man came. He’d married Mommy but he wasn’t Daddy. Daddy was in heaven with the angels, but Joelle wished he would come back. Mommy and her and her sisters needed him more than the angels did.

  The bad man yelled at Mommy again and Joelle ducked lower, clutching the banisters with her small hands. If the bad man saw her, he’d spank her like he did last time he caught her watching them. Spying, he called it, but Joelle didn’t know what spying meant.

  She wondered for a moment if she should go get Alaina. Her older sister hated when she woke her up in the middle of the night, but she wouldn’t mind being awakened if it was to protect Mommy. Alaina was older. She would know what to do.

  As she gripped the banisters and started to rise, the bad man raised his hand and slapped Mommy across the face. Unable to help herself, she cried out, telling Mommy to run. Instantly, the bad man whipped around and pinned his gaze on her. She knew she should run but she was frozen in place, as if nailed to the floor.

  The bad man started toward the stairs, but Mommy grabbed his arm, trying to prevent him from going after her. He pushed Mommy and she crashed down on the floor. Joelle sprang up from the balcony and ran to the bedroom, locking the door behind her like Mommy had taught her and Alaina to do.

  She ran across the floor and jumped into her bed, pulling the covers up over her head. The bad man’s footsteps echoed in the hallway outside of their room. She lowered the covers just enough to see the door. The doorknob jiggled and she heard the bad man say a curse word.

  Joelle clenched the covers tighter, and wondered why Alaina didn’t hear the bad man—why she didn’t wake up and tell Joelle what to do. It seemed like forever, but finally the jiggling stopped and she heard the bad man stomping away from their room. When she couldn’t hear his footsteps any longer, she grabbed her blanket and crawled under her bed, where she remained the rest of the night.

  * * *

  JOELLE BOLTED UP so quickly, she staggered backward. When her hands met with the wall, she leaned back against it, trying to catch her breath. Her heart pounded in her temples and her chest ached with every rise and fall.

  She’d had the visions as long as she could remember, but never had she had one that played out at such length and in such detail. Never had she remembered her stepfather coming after her, or her sleeping under her bed. Never had one of the visions brought the sheer panic she now felt—anger, certainly, but never panic.

  She pushed herself off the wall, knowing that it would be no use to attempt to go back to sleep. Maybe she’d finish up in the bathroom and head downstairs to make coffee. As she reached for the bathroom door, a squeaking sound carried from downstairs. Immediately, she froze. It had sounded like a door opening, but surely she was mistaken. The front door had an alarm and all the other doors had new locks that Carter had installed. There was no longer any chance that random Calais residents were wandering around with keys to the other doors, as Alaina and Danae told her had happened when they first got to town.

  Deciding she must have been mistaken, she pushed the bathroom door open and that’s when she heard the squeaking sound again—this time louder.

  Before she could even think about waking Tyler, he rushed out of his bedroom and ran straight into her, knocking her to the floor. It only took him a second to realize whom he’d crashed into, then he cursed and hauled her up from the floor the same way he’d pulled her out of the brush the day before.

  The girls’ bedroom door flew open and Alaina and Danae bolted into the hall, both clutching pistols. Tyler took one look at them and raised his eyebrows.

  “I’m not sure whether to be impressed or afraid,” he said.

  “Definitely afraid,” Alaina said as they lowered their weapons. “What happened?”

  “I heard a noise,” Tyler said, “and rushed out to investigate, but only managed to tackle your sister. Was it you who made the noise?”

  “No,” Joelle said. “I was just about to wake you. It came from downstairs. I dismissed it as an old house creaking the first time, but the second time, I’m certain it was a door opening or closing.”

  Tyler cursed again, then ran downstairs, and it was only then that Joelle realized he had a nine millimeter in his hand.

  “Unbelievable,” Joelle said. “I’m the only one in this house who doesn’t sleep with their hand on a loaded gun. And I’m the social worker.”

  “This house,” Danae said, “is why we sleep with our hands on loaded guns.”

  “Should we go after him?” Alaina asked.

  “He probably won’t appreciate it if we do,” Danae said, “but that’s not going to stop me.”

  Danae took off after Tyler with Alaina only a step behind. Joelle stared after them for a moment, then ran to catch up. At the bottom of the stairs, they peered into the dim light, trying to figure out which direction Tyler had gone, but there was no movement or noise to guide them.

  Just as Joelle was going to suggest they call for him, the light in the kitchen came on, illuminating the hallway. Alaina motioned to Joelle to get behind her, and she and Danae lifted their pistols and walked down the hallway.

  “Stop!” Tyler’s voice boomed from the kitchen when they reached the archway.

  Alaina stopped short and Joelle had to grab her shoulders to keep from running into her.

  “What’s wrong?” Alaina asked.

  “I don’t want you to ruin evidence,” Tyler said.

  Alaina’s eyes narrowed and Joelle knew her sister had slipped into attorney mode. She’d seen that look so many times in court.

  “What evidence?” Alaina asked.

  “I’m not sure yet, but I rigged the downstairs after you guys went to bed. I wanted to get to the bottom of things.”

  “Rigged how?” Joelle asked.

  “I sprinkled powder across some thresholds and in front of exterior doors.”

  Danae nodded. “To see if someone passed there. Smart.”

  “And someone passed through the kitchen?” Alaina asked.

  Tyler squatted down and inspected the floor in front of them. Joelle could barely make out the fine powder scattered on the stone tile.

  “It doesn’t look li
ke anyone passed this way,” he said, “or through the patio door.”

  “What about the door off the laundry room?” Alaina asked.

  “I was going to check there next,” he said.

  “We’ll come with you,” Danae said.

  He paused and Joelle knew he wanted to tell them to stay put, but he was far too smart to argue with three angry women, two of whom were toting guns.

  “Hurry up, then,” he said as he rushed past them and back to the entry.

  The laundry room was at the end of a hallway off the back of the huge entry. It took ten seconds to get there and only one glance at the floor to see that Tyler’s trap had worked. Right in front of the exterior door was a single footprint, stamped in powder.

  The dead bolt was pulled back in the open position. Tyler turned the doorknob and pulled the door open. Joelle sucked in a breath. “He left through this door, but how did he get in?”

  Tyler closed the door, locked it and pulled the dead bolt back into place. The frustration he felt rolled off of him.

  “I don’t know, but you can bet I’m going to find out.”

  Chapter Seven

  Gray, gloomy skies presided over the cemetery in New Orleans where Tyler stood with his father, Carter, Joelle, Alaina, Danae and her fiancé, Zach, waiting for the medical examiner to direct his staff to open the LeBeau family crypt and remove Ophelia LeBeau’s coffin. William had already provided the key to the crypt, courtesy of the LeBeau estate attorney’s office in New Orleans.

  Tyler stood back a bit from the rest of them, wishing things had not come down to this—wishing the sisters had chosen to leave the exhumation to professionals used to dealing with such sordid things and not chosen to stand there, waiting. Their first glimpse of their mother, after twenty-five years, was going to be shocking, and despite the fact that they were all strong, intelligent women, Tyler didn’t think they were ready for it.

  The medical examiner opened the crypt and directed his staff to the correct vault box. Tyler could see the assistants pulling the coffin out of the box inside and noticed that the sisters shifted so that they stood close together. As the assistants carried the coffin out of the crypt, it started to mist.

  The medical examiner had come prepared for such a disruption and directed his staff to the easy-up tent placed to the side of the crypt. The staff placed the coffin on the ground under the tent, then stepped back so that the medical examiner could take over. He pulled on a mask and stepped up to the coffin, placing a crowbar under the lip. One of the assistants moved into position behind him, ready to take the required pictures to document the exhumation prior to transport.

  He saw the sisters take one another’s hands and looked over at Carter, who glanced back at him, the worry on his face clear as day. Prior to returning to Calais, Carter had been a homicide detective with the New Orleans Police Department. He’d seen bodies in various states of decay. In the Middle East, Tyler had seen every possible atrocity one could imagine and many one couldn’t stretch the mind to think of.

  But these three women hadn’t seen anything like what the two of them had.

  Tyler watched Joelle as the medical examiner clenched the crowbar, preparing to open the coffin. He shoved the crowbar down and the wood splintered, a loud crack echoing across the cemetery. Joelle winced and swallowed, but all three girls held fast. The medical examiner set the crowbar on the ground and reached out one gloved hand to lift the coffin lid.

  Everyone leaned forward except Tyler, who had returned to Calais to avoid exactly this kind of sight. Instead of looking at the coffin, Tyler watched Joelle—the only sister without a fiancé—ready to be by her side in a second if she needed him.

  He heard the sound of the coffin lid slamming back, and then everyone gasped. Joelle threw her hand over her mouth and stumbled backward into Tyler, who clutched her shoulders to steady her and peered over to see if anything was out of the ordinary.

  What he saw was an empty box.

  * * *

  EVERYONE BUT THE medical examiner and his staff was crowded inside Zach and Danae’s one-bedroom condo in New Orleans. Joelle stood near the fireplace, looking at framed pictures of Zach and Danae. The smiling Zach in the photos looked completely different from the shaken and pale Zach they’d brought home. Joelle didn’t understand why Danae’s fiancé had taken this so hard, but it was something she’d ask Alaina about later.

  The bedroom door opened and William, who’d been inside with Danae and Zach, stepped out.

  “Are they okay?” Alaina asked.

  “They’re fine. Zach is understandably upset, and Danae is trying to reassure him that none of this casts light on him.”

  Joelle frowned. “I don’t understand.”

  William nodded and walked over to stand beside her. “I didn’t have time to cover all the details in our meeting the other day, but our friend Zach came to Calais looking for answers of his own. His father was the funeral director that your stepfather paid off. He attempted a deathbed confession but all Zach understood was your mother’s name.”

  “Oh!” The implications of everything William said rolled over Joelle like a tidal wave. “But Zach didn’t have anything to do with that. He’s as much a victim of Purcell’s actions as we all are.”

  William smiled and gave her arm a squeeze. “Of course he is, but he can’t help feeling responsible on some level. After all, his father was part of something that hurt the woman he loves. Don’t worry about Zach. He just needs some time to process all of this, and seeing you all is harder at the moment.”

  “We should go,” Tyler said. “Give him some space.”

  Alaina nodded. “I’ll just tell Danae we’re going.” She slipped into the bedroom and was back out a minute later.

  “Danae said to tell everyone thank you and that they’ll be in Calais this weekend,” Alaina said.

  William, who’d ridden to New Orleans with Tyler and Joelle, looked over at Carter. “If it’s all right, I’d like to ride back to Calais with you so that we can discuss what needs to happen next, from a law enforcement and legal perspective.”

  “Of course,” Carter said.

  Joelle trailed out of the building, not entirely comfortable with spending the two-hour drive alone in the truck with Tyler. Although he’d been pleasant enough the night before when the girls had their sleepover, he’d gone right back to silent and closed off after discovering evidence of the intruder. He’d remained silent through the entire exhumation process, and Joelle didn’t relish the long, boring, uncomfortable drive.

  The first twenty minutes passed in exactly the manner Joelle expected—she tried not to fidget and Tyler stared straight out the windshield, not saying a word.

  Finally, he looked over at her. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes. Your truck is quite comfortable—almost like riding on my couch.”

  She could see a smile hovering around his lips, but it didn’t quite break through.

  “Thank you,” he said, “but that’s not what I meant. I’m talking about the exhumation.”

  “Oh, well,” she said, trying to formulate a good response to a question she hadn’t yet answered for herself. “I’m all right, but I don’t know what I think about it.”

  “You’ve had an awful lot to wrap your mind around in a short amount of time.”

  “True, but at least I have the education and experience to handle crisis. I can’t imagine what your average person would do in my situation.”

  “Sit in a corner crying or run screaming from the town, is my guess.”

  “I’ve actually considered both, but neither seemed overly productive.”

  Now the smile broke through. “I tell you what—I give all you ladies credit for being tough. When your sisters ran out of the bedroom last night, wearing pink pajamas and packing guns, it
gave me a bit of a start. Then the more I thought about it, the bigger kick I got out of it.”

  “I got a kick out of it, too. It’s nice to know my sisters really have my back.”

  “Did anything else happen...before you heard the noise?”

  Joelle stiffened, somewhat taken aback. “No,” she lied. “Why do you ask?”

  He shrugged. “You were pale and your hands were shaking as if you’d had a recent shock.”

  Instantly, Joelle’s mind leaped back to the vision she’d seen looking through the banisters. Tyler was far more perceptive than she’d given him credit for if he’d picked up on her reaction. But no matter how pleasant things seemed at the moment with the hunky bodyguard, her childhood flashbacks were something she wasn’t ready to share with anyone—not even her sisters.

  “I think I was just unnerved,” she said finally. “You know, big spooky house...things that go bump in the night...and after hearing everything that happened to Alaina and Danae, I suppose my imagination is working overtime.”

  “Hmm,” he said, but didn’t look the least bit convinced.

  She looked out the windshield, mentally running through the morning’s events. “What do you think it means?”

  “The empty casket?”

  “Yeah. The medical examiner was quite clear on the fact that the casket had never been opened. So it’s not like Purcell could have sent someone to steal the body after the fact. And since the serial number inside the casket matched the burial records, I don’t see how the entire casket could have been switched.”

  “Unless someone made up plates for the replacement casket that matched the records, or switched the casket before the burial.”

  “But why?” she asked. “She was going in the crypt. No one suspected foul play. Why take such a risk?”

  “Just to be certain that nothing could ever be traced back to him? Honestly, I don’t know. Purcell was a hit man for a mob family. It’s hard for a person with morals to get into that mind-set.”

  “But Carter is trying to.”