by Angie Sandro
“Hiya, Malaise. Heard you have a visitor that’s not fit to drive?”
“Yeah, Landry Prince. He’s worked up about his sister’s murder,” I hiss the word, surprised at the anger churning inside me over not being informed of that bit of news.
George stabs his fingers through his hair, making the short ends stand up in copper spikes. “He knows about that?”
The guilt on his face fuels my exasperation. “Yeah, he accused me of killing Lainey and dumping her body in the swamp. Then fishing her out again, ’cause that’s what murderers do, apparently. Why didn’t you tell me that Lainey didn’t kill herself or warn me that you told her family that I found her body?”
He lurches forward, so close I smell the fresh rain scent of fabric softener wafting from his shirt. His hands lift toward me, but he lets them drop to his sides. “Did Landry hurt you?”
“I’m fine. See, not a mark on me,” I say, glossing over the incident. “But he freaked me out. Course he has a right to be upset. I don’t get it. The cuts on her arms…”
“I’m not allowed to talk about the case, Mala.”
“But he knows.” I point at the still form across the yard.
George’s eyes fall on Landry, and his fists clench. “Yeah, but I didn’t tell the family. It must’ve been Sheriff Keyes. He’s been working double time to head off trouble. Reverend Prince isn’t happy with how our investigation is going. I’m afraid he might take justice into his own hands.”
“Oh, like Landry tried to do? I should’ve gotten a heads-up or something.”
“I’ll collect Landry and warn him to keep away from you.” George starts in Landry’s direction, but I grab his arm.
“Don’t be too hard on him. He’s upset. Turns out his sister was pregnant. Have you checked out the baby’s father?”
George spins and grabs my shoulders. “Pregnant? What do you mean?”
“Like Baby on Board. What? You didn’t know?”
“No, the autopsy report hasn’t come out yet, but preliminary findings didn’t suggest…” His eyes light up. “God, this changes everything. A pregnancy could be a proper motive. What if the baby’s father murdered Lainey to rid himself of her secret?”
“He makes a great suspect.”
George laughs and pulls me into a bear hug. He squeezes all of the air out of my lungs. My heart pounds. It makes me uncomfortable. My gaze darts over to Landry and I flush, seeing him watching us with an empty expression.
“You’re suffocating me,” I whisper, wriggling to free myself from his constrictive embrace.
He relaxes his hold. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. Damn, it seems that’s all I ever do when I’m around you anymore.”
“No, I—” I’m just embarrassed.
“Look, I’m sorry for not warning you about the Princes. I’ll keep Landry away. Just be careful. If anyone finds out that you know about the pregnancy—well, it could put you at risk. This guy killed once to cover up his secret. By finding her body, you brought her into the light, and now he’ll be scrambling to cover his tracks.”
I nod, not promising him anything. This situation with Lainey has more twists than a pretzel, and I’m smack dab in the middle of it.
He brushes the back of his hand across my cheek. “You did good, girl. Don’t worry. I’ll be watching out for you.”
I hand over Landry’s keys. As George walks over to Landry, a chill replaces the heat of his presence, and I rub away the goose bumps that rise on my arm. When he reaches the grieving boy’s side, he lays a gentle hand on his back. They exchange a few words. Then Landry weaves his way toward the patrol car. George speeds up to reach his car first and opens the door. Landry bends to crawl inside then groans. He falls to his knees, grabs a flowerpot sitting beside the tire, and throws up.
“Oh, Landry, not in my geraniums.” I rush to his side. The poor plant already droops from the last time Mama vomited in it. I’ve got to remember to move the pot out of the danger zone.
George stands on the far side of his car. “Sorry, Mala. If I get too close, I’ll start puking myself.”
“Thanks a lot. What am I supposed to do?”
George shrugs.
Deserted. Crap! I kneel beside Landry and hesitantly lay a hand on his shoulder. When he doesn’t pull away, I rub his back in a slow circle. He shakes with each heave. And the smell, boy oh boy, does it smell rank. I shuffle a little closer until he can lean on me for support and brush the dangling tendrils of his hair behind his ears so they don’t get coated in vomit. Finally, when everything in his stomach fills the flowerpot, he turns toward me. His head lowers onto my lap and his arms circle my waist.
I throw my hands up in the air, not sure where to place them. “Uh, Georgie, a little help, please.”
George comes over and wraps his hands around Landry’s waist and tries to lift him—not sure why he thinks that will work without cooperation, given Landry’s size. And Landry isn’t cooperating. He seems content to nest in my lap. When George pulls on him, his arms tighten around my waist.
“Landry, let her go,” George yells right into the softly snoring boy’s ear.
I sit there, afraid to move.
“Mala, give him a push.”
“But he might fall over.”
“Do you want to babysit him all night?” George snaps.
Landry grunts. His head turns, and an eyelid slides open to reveal a bloodshot eye. “I don’t need a babysitter,” he mumbles. “Just a little dizzy.”
“See, he’s dizzy, Georgie. Be nice. He’s under a lot of stress.” I gently pat Landry on the head, and he rubs his bristly chin against my leg with a deep sigh.
George’s face flames scarlet, and a vein pulses in his forehead. “We’re all under a lot of stress. I’m supposed to be on patrol. How do you think the sheriff would take it if he found out about this?”
“Georgie, you’re doing a good thing. Calm down.”
“I am calm,” he yells, running his hand through his hair. “Look at him. How am I supposed to explain to his grieving parents how he got in this condition? They’ve enough to deal with preparing for the funeral on Saturday. They don’t need this worry.”
Landry shudders at his words. He rolls onto his backside and sits up. “Cut the yelling. I’m fine, Deputy George. My head’s cleared up. I can drive.”
“Hell, no, you can’t drive.” George grabs his arm. This time, Landry doesn’t fight as George lifts him to his feet and half drags, half carries him to the car. He isn’t gentle getting him inside either.
I follow behind, feeling guilty and not knowing why.
George turns and gives me a hard, lingering stare.
“What?”
He shakes his head. “I don’t know how you manage to get me worked up.”
“But I didn’t do anything.” I step closer, staring into his eyes. The moss green darkens with an undefined emotion. I clasp my hands together and take a deep breath to calm the surge of panic building inside me.
“Mala…I—” he begins, only to be cut off by the sound of Landry gagging. He rolls his eyes and offers me a tight grin. “I’d better go before I have to spend the rest of the night hosing out my car. You take care, all right?”
“Sure.” What I really want to ask is what he planned to say before he got interrupted. For some reason, I think it might…no, better let it go. “Be careful.”
Feeling confused, I watch the patrol car drive off. I hate that George is upset, and I think his frustration has more to do with me than with having to take care of Landry. I totally understand because I’m feeling the same way. The whole day has been a nightmare. Part of me wonders if I really woke up this morning.
After dragging out the hose and spraying out my flowerpot, part of the driveway, and my piss-soaked purse, I go inside. It’s time for Mama and me to have a little chat. I have a bunch of unanswered questions about Lainey that only she can shed light on.
A battered suitcase waits in the entryway.
She comes out of her bedroom with a tote bag. “The boy’s gone?”
“Yeah, but what’s all this?”
“I called my great-auntie in New Orleans. I need to head down there tonight. I’ll be back sometime tomorrow. You gonna be all right by your lonesome?”
“You’re kidding, right?” My hands start shaking. I cross my arms and lean against the door to block her exit. “What’s going on? Why the sudden trip, Mama? After all that’s happened, I need to talk to you.”
Mama fiddles with the strap on her tote bag. “That’s why I’m goin’, Mala. I don’t know nothin’ that would help, but my grand-tante does. She’s your great-grandmère Dahlia’s twin, and she’s the only livin’ female left in our family who knows how to control our gifts. She may be able to help us.”
“Why haven’t I ever heard about this aunt?”
Mama picks up her suitcase in silence.
“Wait, Mama, don’t go,” I beg, trying to snatch the bag from her hands. She jerks it free and steps around me. The fire brightening her eyes has me cringing, expecting a slap. When it doesn’t come, I straighten in surprise.
“I have to go, Mala.” Mama’s breaths come hard. It isn’t anger reflected in her dark gaze, but deep, soul-draining fear. And despair. “Lord knows I want nothin’ to do with that wicked woman, but I’d eat my own liver if it meant figurin’ out a way to keep you safe.”
I shudder. “Wicked?”
Mama picks up her suitcase again and starts for the door. I try to block her, but she shoves past and heads outside. I run after her. My mind whirls. “What aren’t you telling me?”
Mama meets my gaze, her own terrified. “Grand-tante Magnolia’s a conjure woman. She practices hoodoo—root magic. Great-grandmère Dahlia and her sister had a fallin’ out when they were young ’cause Magnolia apprenticed herself to a priestess who taught her how to raise the dead and twist dark curses. They never spoke after that, and your grandmère Cora refused to practice root magic.” She drops the bag and comes over to wrap her arms around me.
I hug her tight. “I’m scared. Please, please don’t leave me alone.”
“I’m scared too. The spirits started whisperin’ to me when I was about your age, but it wasn’t until my mama died that I ever saw one. And I’ve never felt a spirit as powerful as Lainey. She almost killed you that time in the bathroom, and I think the reason you forgot when she touched you was that your mind ain’t strong enough to control her. Magnolia’s the only one who can teach you how to use your gifts, and she might turn me away out of pure spite. I have to do somethin’. You need to understand that, cher. I can’t let you suffer the way I did.”
With a fake smile plastered on my face, I release her. Now that she’s made her decision, I just want her to go. I’ll deal with this mess on my own. Like always. “Okay, if you think this is the way, I guess I’ll be fine until you get back.”
“That’s my girl.” She throws her bag into the back of her pickup, then points to Landry’s truck. “When that boy comes back, don’t go near him, you hear? Don’t listen if he tries to talk you into contactin’ his sister. Her spirit’s too strong. You need the help of a professional.”
I bite my lip.
“Grief’s got that boy torn up in the head, baby. Swear you’ll be careful. Don’t trust him.”
“I swear I’ll be careful. You too.” I wave her off, glad she didn’t force me to swear to something that I can’t keep.
Chapter 14
Landry
Stalker
George doesn’t take it easy on the winding road.
Each curve we whip around makes me gag. He’ll kill me if I lose it in his car. I press my fist against my stomach, trying to dull the ache from puking up the bowl of beef stew I ate earlier. Food and whisky don’t mix.
Okay, it’s official. Phase I of my plan to find out if the girl I like, who I finally talked to, the one who made me forget for a little while that I’d never see my sister again, may be the one who murdered her, is a total bust. It’s my own fault. If I hadn’t gone to her house drunk maybe I would’ve handled the situation better. Like not bawling like an infant for one.
God, I’m so embarrassed. I press my forehead against the window pane. My chest feels like I’ve taken a garden claw to my insides and raked my guts into a lump in my stomach. I never knew I could hurt so much.
It’s killing me.
The trees in the distance blur into broccoli-stalk smudges. My stomach churns, and I close my eyes and Lainey’s face floats in the darkness. Her sadness haunts me. I see her whenever I close my eyes. I haven’t slept more than a couple hours at a stretch in days. When I lie down, Lainey’s voice whispers in my ears. It’s only one name spoken over and over: Mala. Mala. Mala.
Lainey drove me crazy.
By the time I confronted Mala at Munchies, I’d convinced myself of her guilt. I obsessed over each word and action she’d taken while at the coroner’s, sure she hid something from me. Her glittering eyes and smile concealed the evil inside, but it all changed once I was with her. I fell under her spell.
Tears press against my sealed lids. I squeeze them away. I won’t cry again. Bad enough I broke down in front of Mala and her mom when Lainey appeared. I’ve got to stay strong until I figure out who hurt her. Heaven help the person who killed her.
George parks in front of my parents’ house. I bang on the glass partition separating the front of the car. “I’m not going in there. Take me to my apartment.”
My face flushes. I don’t want to confess that Mom kicked me out.
George climbs out of the patrol car, and I glare at him while he comes around to open the door. “You’re not in any condition to care for yourself.” When I don’t move, he grabs my arm and drags me out. A heavy scowl pulls down his eyebrows. He shoves me toward the house, and I stumble. “Don’t tell me I have to carry you.”
He tries to take my arm again, but I jerk away. “I don’t need your help, Deputy George.”
“You need someone’s help. What the hell were you thinking? Accosting Mala, driving drunk…” He shakes his head “That’s not like you, Landry.”
“I’m thinking my sister was murdered, and you’re not doing shit to find the person who did it. That rather than following the evidence, you’re gonna sweep it under the rug because of your personal relationship with the main suspect.”
George stiffens. “Main suspect?”
I laugh. It’s so funny it makes me sick. “Go to hell, George. I saw you hug Mala. Don’t even try to deny you have feelings for her. If you can’t do your job, I’ll do it for you.”
I’m shaking so hard I’m about to fly apart. He had his hands all over her. I wanted to rip his arms off and shove them down his throat. The only reason why I didn’t…Mala hugged him back. It hurt, watching them. I couldn’t move. But I’m not frozen anymore. I’m so hot that if I don’t get away from him, I might do something I’d regret later. I turn toward the house.
George grabs my shoulder and spins me around. “If you’re implying Mala’s a suspect—”
I jerk my arm free. “Did I say her name?”
“You don’t have to.” He steps forward until we’re almost nose to nose. I straighten up to my full height, ignoring the clench in my strained gut. His emotionless, bottle-glass green eyes send a chill through me. He could hurt me. He’d do it without any remorse. He sees me lower than dirt, and he’d feel nothing but justified because he thinks he’s protecting an innocent person.
This basically sums up my whole problem. Mala has him snowed. Uncle Jay warned me. He said she looks innocent on the outside. It’s the inside I’m not sure about. When I’m with her, I can’t believe she’d be capable of hurting Lainey. Her warmth surrounds me like a warm blanket, and I want to wrap myself in her arms and never let her go. It’s when I’m alone that the doubts chew me up. Like right now.
I meet George’s eyes. “So
meone killed Lainey.”
“It wasn’t Mala so back the fuck off and leave her alone. If I even hear about you harassing her again, I’ll lock your ass up.” He leans forward, and I take a step back. “Do you understand? This is your only warning.”
“Crystal,” I say, giving a sloppy salute and spinning on my heel. I’m not running from him exactly, more like making a controlled retreat. What he’s saying isn’t wrong. Confrontation won’t help me find the truth. It’ll only cause problems with the law, and I’ll scare Mala into hiding. I need to gain her trust to dig up her secrets.
The front door slams open when I reach the porch. I back up, but a meaty hand grabs my collar and drags me inside. Dad thrusts me against the wall. His arched nostrils flare. I must be rank from the alcohol and puke. My face flushes hotter than if I sat too long in the hot tub. When I step forward, he shoves me back against the wall.
Rage replaces my earlier embarrassment. I thrust my arms up, breaking his hold on my shirt, popping a button. “Back off!”
Dad doesn’t smack me. He’s never laid a hand on me in anger in his entire life. He left disciplining his children to his wife. He says because as a man he’s stronger than Mom. He didn’t believe in sparing the rod, but he didn’t want us to come to lasting harm. For him to shove me means I’ve pushed him past his limit.
He backs away and runs his fingers through salt-and-pepper hair. His thick beard bristles like a porcupine when he juts out his chin. “You’ve shamed me,” he says softly.
That’s it.
He walks toward his study with measured strides. He doesn’t look back. Heat rushes through my chest, up to my head. I’ll explode if I don’t let out the rage eating me up. I’ve stuffed my feelings inside, but there’s no room for a slice more. Shame…he dares to talk of shame. I’m full up with it. Time to share the blame with the one who deserves it the most.
