The Reunion: The Secret of Cypriere Bayou

by Jana DeLeon

Tyler nodded. “Carter takes his job seriously, and with you three involved, it’s personal. He won’t give up—no matter how long it takes.”

  “You trust him,” Joelle said, a bit surprised that the cagey bodyguard had such absolute faith in someone other than himself.

  “I’ve known Carter my whole life. Him, his mother and my father—I’ve never seen any of them do or say something without someone else in mind. Carter would never talk about it, because he’d consider it bragging and therefore rude, but my dad told me he received several commendations when he was a detective in New Orleans.”

  “Then it looks like I’m well protected. Your father told me you have quite a collection of medals yourself.”

  Immediately, Tyler stiffened and his jaw flexed. “My dad shouldn’t talk about things he doesn’t understand.”

  Even though she knew she’d hit a nerve, Joelle couldn’t help saying, “He’s proud of you.”

  Tyler stared out the windshield for several seconds before responding. “Maybe I’m not proud of some of the things those medals were given for.”

  Joelle stared at him, his words hitting her like a tidal wave. It was easy to watch the news footage from the Middle East on the television and shake your head, but had she ever once thought about the extent of mental and emotional damage that was inflicted on those simply doing their job?

  In her own work, she’d done things during crisis situations that she would never have done under normal circumstances. She’d hit people, broken major traffic laws and effectively kidnapped children to remove them from dangerous situations. She’d never regretted a single action she’d taken to save a woman or a child, but sometimes the extent of her anger during the fray disturbed her. It gave her a clear understanding of how much humans were capable of when placed in volatile situations.

  Given Tyler’s length of time overseas, the things he’d seen probably made a day at her job look like Disneyland.

  And she’d just opened her big mouth and brought it all back to the forefront of his mind.

  Idiot.

  She slumped back against the truck seat and focused her mind on the first project she intended to work on at the house. Every time she opened her mouth, she made things between her and Tyler more uncomfortable. Maybe it was time to be quiet.

  Chapter Eight

  Tyler managed to endure the rest of the drive to the mansion in calm silence but it was a strain. Why had his dad brought up his medals? Tyler understood that William was proud of him, but the last thing he wanted people doing was thinking him a hero, when he knew the truth. And the very last person he needed thinking him a hero was a woman with a dangerous job and living in a dangerous situation.

  He’d already played that game and lost.

  From now on, no more personal conversations with Joelle. He’d be polite, but no one claimed being buddies with her was part of the job he was hired to do. Talking to her always brought him back around to things he’d come back to Calais to forget.

  He checked all the windows and doors in the house as soon as they arrived, then went back outside to do another perimeter search, desperately needing to work off some pent-up energy. Also, he was determined to discover how the intruder had gained access to the house. If he couldn’t prevent access to the structure, how was he supposed to protect Joelle? The last thing he needed was something to happen to the heiress on his watch.

  As he walked around the side of the house, scanning the ground for any trace of recent passage besides his own, his mind rolled through the conversation they’d had on the ride back from New Orleans. When he’d run out of his bedroom the night before, something had startled Joelle. Something besides the noise she heard downstairs.

  The expression on her face went far beyond simple fear and crossed right into haunted. He’d seen that look on so many soldiers—young men who weren’t prepared well for the atrocities they would face or the things they’d be asked to do. Joelle had seen or heard something that forced her to remember something particularly horrible. So horrible she couldn’t control her body’s reaction to it and refused to discuss it.

  Alaina is starting to remember more....

  Something his dad said during a recent discussion ran through Tyler’s mind. William had said that despite being the oldest of the sisters, Alaina didn’t have much memory of her childhood at the LeBeau estate. William thought she’d blocked it out because the death of her mother and being sent to live with strangers was so traumatic for a six-year-old girl. But since returning to Calais, Alaina’s memory was starting to return, and Carter hoped that at some point, her memories might help them unravel what happened to her mother.

  Joelle was only four when she was sent away, but even someone so young could have memories, if they had produced great emotion. Overwhelming happiness and extreme fear would be enough to imprint on a four-year-old. Based on Joelle’s expression when he came out of his bedroom, he was betting on fear.

  The question was, were the memories always present, or like Alaina, had something come flooding back since she’d returned to the house?

  Either way, she’d clammed up as soon as he asked. Maybe he’d mention his suspicions to Carter, who would tell Alaina. Perhaps if Joelle knew her sister was remembering, she’d be willing to tell her secrets to Alaina.

  As he rounded the corner to the patio side of the house, he looked into the swamp toward the clearing he’d seen the day before. Dark clouds were starting to form overhead, and he knew he had little daylight left before the rain began, so he stepped into the swamp to see if he could discern any more details of passage.

  At the edge of the clearing, he hit pay dirt. Where leaves had been the day before, now a patch of loose dirt remained, and at the edge of it was the front half of a shoe print. Without making a cast, there was no way to be certain, but it looked like the same size and shape as the print he’d lifted from the laundry room.

  He followed the trail into the swamp for about a hundred yards before stopping. It wasn’t safe to leave Joelle unprotected. He’d wait until Carter was available to keep watch, then he’d track the intruder to his getaway point. It probably wouldn’t tell them who the intruder was, but it would be one more thing in their arsenal of knowledge.

  As soon as he got back inside, and if he had any service left on his phone with the storm moving in, he’d order outdoor video cameras with motion detectors. Someone had used this path twice that he knew of. He’d stopped at a supply store in New Orleans on the way to the cemetery and picked up some cameras to place inside the house. Maybe if he didn’t catch them inside, he could catch them outside. Either way, a picture or video would put the entire thing to rest, quickly and easily.

  He headed back to the house and as he stepped on the patio, his cell phone rang. It was Carter, so he answered, happy service hadn’t dropped yet.

  “I’m glad I caught you,” Carter said. “With the storm coming, I didn’t figure I would.”

  “I expect service will go anytime now. What’s up?”

  “I talked with the Jackson police. Brant is MIA. He left his house three days ago and no one has seen or heard from him since.”

  “That’s not good.”

  “It gets worse. The Jackson police ran his credit cards and one of them was used last night at a hotel and restaurant in New Orleans.”

  Tyler cursed. “And I suppose there’s no legitimate reason for him to be in New Orleans?”

  “No family or friends, and his secretary says they don’t have any business interests or contacts in New Orleans that he would need to see. Besides, if it was
legitimate, his secretary would know where he was. She’s been trying to reach him for two days with no luck.”

  “Have the police tried triangulating his cell phone?”

  “Not yet, but I asked them to. They’re supposed to call me when they get something.”

  “Good, let me know.”

  Tyler waited several seconds, but no response was forthcoming. Then his phone beeped twice and he looked at the display and sighed. No service. And he hadn’t gotten a chance to tell Carter about his theory on Joelle’s childhood memories.

  He glanced overhead and saw that the clouds had almost covered the sky and grew darker by the second. He needed to finish his outside rounds and get inside. Ordering the night-vision cameras would have to wait until the next day. The rain wasn’t supposed to clear out until the next evening, but his dad had Wi-Fi, and if he headed into town early enough, he could probably catch Carter at the café.

  He worked his way down the patio, but didn’t see anything out of place, then let himself in the patio door and into the kitchen. Joelle was nowhere in sight, so he figured she was upstairs. He started across the kitchen when suddenly, the pantry door flew open.

  If his reflexes had been any slower, it would have smacked him directly in the face, but he got his hand up in time to stop it.

  “Oh!” Joelle cried out as she stepped around the door. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know you were there.”

  He struggled to control his aggravation. “What are you doing hiding in the pantry?”

  “It’s not a pantry. Well, at least, not like any I’ve ever seen. See?”

  She pushed the door completely open and he peered inside. Joelle was right. It wasn’t like any pantry he’d ever seen, either. It was approximately eight feet wide and at least ten feet long. Shelves lined one wall from top to bottom. On the other side rested cabinets with a stone countertop as well as another set of countertops above. At the opposite side of the pantry was another door.

  “Where does that go?” he asked.

  Joelle stepped through the pantry and opened the other door. “It’s filled with junk now, but with that chandelier, I’m going to guess this was the formal dining room. I think that’s a butler’s pantry.”

  “What the heck is a butler’s pantry?”

  “Wealthy people often had a room connecting the kitchen to the formal dining that the staff could use to prepare the food for service. That way they didn’t walk up and down the main halls of the home carrying trays.”

  “Like the servants’ stairs that lead from the upstairs directly to the kitchen and the laundry room?”

  “Exactly. The premise was that the servants’ work should be visible everywhere, but not the people themselves.”

  “Sounds like a lot of pompous nonsense to me.”

  “My great-grandparents—or maybe even someone before that—built the house. My guess is it’s what they were used to. But I agree with you, it seems an odd way to live—with people roaming your house all the time.”

  “You don’t remember servants from when you lived here before?” Tyler asked, hoping to get some idea of the extent of Joelle’s childhood memories.

  Joelle frowned and she shifted her glance down before answering. “I don’t really remember much. I think I was too young.”

  “Really? It seems like something should register, even at four. You don’t even remember your mother?”

  Her face softened a bit and she nodded. “Sometimes, but it’s not clear. More like glancing at a photograph or a tiny video clip. It’s usually gone as quickly as it appeared.”

  “Carter said Alaina started to remember things after she returned to the house.”

  “That’s what she said the other night. I did remember a couple of things when I walked into our old room, but it was still like the others—snatches of the past.”

  Tyler studied her closely, but she appeared to be telling the truth. “Carter said he’s hoping that Alaina will remember something that can help him with the investigation.”

  Her eyes widened. “Really? I don’t see how...”

  “For instance, we know your stepfather paid off people—it’s possible Alaina could have seen some of those people meeting with him. If she remembers anyone we haven’t already identified, it might help us figure out who’s still accessing the house and why.”

  “Oh. I’d never thought of it that way, but it still seems such a long shot, a child that young being able to not only remember a face but extrapolate it to that person now.”

  “You work with kids who’ve been through traumatic experiences a lot,” Tyler continued to push. “Surely you’ve seen cases where they saw something so bad that they pushed it to the back of their mind, only to have it resurface later on.”

  She frowned. “And you think Alaina might have seen something so bad that she blocked all her memories of her childhood here?”

  Tyler shrugged. “I’m no psychologist. You’d be able to answer that question better than me.”

  She was silent for a couple of seconds, and he could tell she was trying to formulate a response. Finally, she put her hands up in the air and said, “It’s certainly possible, but I can’t say whether it’s something Alaina is experiencing. At least, she hasn’t said so to me.”

  She glanced out the window at the dark clouds. “I guess I better go to the laundry room and get the lanterns and flashlights that Alaina told me about.”

  Tyler watched her as she hurried out of the room. He hadn’t been mistaken. For just a millisecond, that same haunted expression he’d seen on her face the night before had flashed by. If he hadn’t been watching closely for it, he would have missed it entirely.

  Alaina may not be experiencing a recollection of something traumatic, but he’d bet any amount of money that Joelle was.

  * * *

  CARTER TOSSED HIS cell phone on the kitchen counter and looked over at Alaina, who was spooning chicken gumbo into two bowls.

  “No service?” she asked.

  “I’ve got service on this end, but my guess is there’s none left at the house. Not with this storm moving in.”

  Alaina nodded. “I had my share of that problem. I wish we could have gotten a landline installed before Joelle came, but William said it would take months. She didn’t want to wait, but I wish she had.”

  Carter took the bowls of gumbo from Alaina and placed them on the breakfast table. “My guess is Joelle wanted to get away from Brant. It’s a smart thing to do—leave town for a couple of weeks and give him a chance to cool off and wise up.”

  Alaina set two glasses of tea on the table. “Except that it doesn’t appear he’s done either.”

  “No,” Carter said, still unhappy over the Jackson Police Department’s report on Brant. “Well, if he makes the mistake of coming to Calais, we’ll be ready for him. First thing tomorrow, I’ll circulate a picture of him to every businessman and otherwise sane individual in Calais. If anyone sees him, they’ll let me know.”

  “Someone from the outside can still get to you,” Alaina said quietly.

  Carter wrapped his arms around his wife and kissed the top of her head. “In your case, we didn’t know we were looking for an outsider, much less who he was. Joelle’s situation is different.”

  Alaina leaned back and looked up at him. “Is it? Someone’s still gaining access to the house, and I seriously doubt that’s Brant. Not this soon, and not without avoiding detection. Whoever is entering that house has an agenda and a way in
we’ve yet to figure out. And that means Joelle is in just as much danger as Danae and I were.”

  “We’re better prepared this time,” Carter assured her. “We know he’s out there. We know some of what happened and we’re uncovering more every week. And Tyler’s there. She’s got full-time, on-site, ridiculously qualified security, and I trust him.”

  Alaina studied his face for a moment, still not appearing convinced, but finally she nodded. “I know you’re doing everything you can, and because Tyler is William’s son, I trust him, too, even though I don’t know him that well.”

  “But?”

  She blew out a breath. “But after today, I just don’t know what to think anymore. I’m starting to think that we’ve only scratched the surface of my stepfather’s sins.”

  “You may be right.”

  Alaina’s eyes misted up and she sniffed. “What did he do to her, Carter? Where is my mother’s body?”

  Carter pulled his fiancé to his chest and hugged her tightly. “I don’t know, but I’m going to find out. If it’s the last thing I ever do.”

  Chapter Nine

  Joelle set the lantern on the nightstand next to the twin bed she’d claimed as hers the night before. Rain had been falling steadily for a couple of hours, but apparently, it hadn’t gotten bad enough to cut off power. Still, having the lantern in easy reach made her feel better.

  After fleeing from Tyler and his questions, she’d gathered bad-weather supplies, then spent the rest of the evening wandering from room to room, digging through the contents, and marveling over the beautiful art and paintings shoved in piles, boxes and closets. According to Alaina, most of it probably wasn’t worth much, but some of it looked fantastic. If her sisters didn’t mind, Joelle intended to ask if she could keep a couple of the items. She would purchase them, if needed.

  She’d found a particularly lovely painting of Alaina as a baby tucked behind a buffet table in the formal dining room. Even though she couldn’t have been any older than six months in the portrait, Alaina already favored their mother. Joelle had eased the painting out from behind the buffet and leaned it against the door to the butler’s pantry. As soon as she got an opportunity, she’d inquire about getting the piece professionally cleaned.