Wicked

by Jana DeLeon

  She kept watching as he approached the counter, hoping that the camera focused on that area offered a decent view of his face. He put the can on the counter, then reached into his back pocket for his wallet. At that moment, he looked up and Shaye got a good look at his face. She clicked on the video to pause it and stepped out of the office.

  “Would you mind if I made a copy of some of this?” Shaye asked Pops.

  “Of course not. Did you find something?” Pops asked.

  “Nothing concrete, but I’d like to show the video to a friend of Ethan’s and see if she recognizes anyone. One of them might have seen Ethan that night.”

  Pops nodded. “That’s a good idea. You’re one smart cookie, Ms. Archer. You’re welcome to whatever you need, but I’m afraid I can’t help you with the copy-making stuff. Turning it all on is the best I can manage.”

  Shaye smiled. “I think I’ve got that covered.”

  She sat back down, rewound the tape to a bit to before Ethan left the dorm, put in a USB that was always in her pocket, and clicked the Record button, selecting a recording range of an hour. Once she got home, she’d edit the video and pull out the images of people so she could show them to Tara. While the video was recording, she popped back out of the office.

  “You don’t have cameras outside?” she asked.

  “Used to,” Pops said, “but they went on the blink about two weeks ago. The feed was always crap. I called that useless security company. They came out and claimed they fixed them, but they’re still on the fritz. They keep telling me I need to upgrade the equipment. Everything is a sales pitch these days.”

  “So you don’t have any of the outside video saved?”

  “Didn’t see no reason for it. Most of it was static and when the cameras did come on, everything was so dark that you couldn’t have made out your own mother standing there.”

  “Did you have cameras in the back of the store?”

  “No. Only up front at the pumps. We make cash pay customers come inside before we turn them on, but we’ve caught people using the hose from another car while the driver was inside the store. There were some complaints and my attorney said it was cheaper to put in a security system than deal with potential lawsuits. I should send him the bill for all these upgrades.”

  “It couldn’t hurt.” Shaye stepped back into the office and grabbed her USB from the computer. “Thanks again for letting me do this.”

  “No problem. I hope you find that boy. We need more of him around and less of the other kind.”

  Shaye handed him a business card. “If you think of anything else or hear something, please give me a call.”

  Pops nodded. “Good luck, Ms. Archer.”

  “Thanks,” Shaye said and exited the store. She hoped the luck Pops wished on her was going to be enough, because this case was going nowhere fast. No witnesses. No enemies. No reason at all for an introverted, highly intelligent college student to disappear from the face of the earth.

  Except for the text message.

  She’d been hoping to find any other reason but a potential game of murder, but as more doors closed, that option was quickly becoming the only one on the table. Which meant the first thing she needed to find out was if the girl in the coffin had been murdered or if it really was a hazing incident gone bad.

  No way would the police give her information on an open case, and Shaye wouldn’t ask Jackson to risk his job for her. He’d already put himself on the line too many times as it was, and even though he’d whitewashed over how things were at the department, Shaye was certain the amount of scrutiny he was currently under was probably overwhelming.

  But there was one person who might be able to get her the information.

  He watched as she drove away in her SUV. He recognized her from television, but she looked better in person. He could only assume Ethan’s nosy girlfriend had been the one to get the Archer woman on the case. He should have known she wouldn’t let it go. The girl was constantly on Ethan about something—go to a party, teach me math—typical. Listening to her unending whining had almost made him wish he hadn’t bugged Ethan’s room.

  He hadn’t been able to monitor the other ones before he’d taken them. They lived at home or in fraternity and sorority houses where people were always milling about during the day and were armed with excellent security when everyone was asleep. But monitoring Ethan had made it easy to know his schedule. Easy to know when he’d be alone.

  He didn’t know if the police had connected the two other murders yet, but he was going to bet they hadn’t. If the police suspected that the murders of two college students were connected and another student was now missing, they would have been the ones asking questions, not a PI.

  Still, Shaye Archer, Champion of the Unrepresented and Queen of Victims, was a problem. He’d followed her story on the news and filled in some of the blanks that the reports hadn’t covered. What he’d decided was that Shaye Archer was smart and brave and had unlimited money to buy whatever she needed to close any gaps missing in her own ability. It was a dangerous combination.

  All this additional complication was the fault of the nosy one. The overwhelming desire to take her out coursed through him and he knew he would be forced to act. The girl hadn’t been on his original list, but she’d messed up, bringing in a private detective. Now she would have to go too, along with her best buddy Ethan.

  She should have thought twice about poking her nose into things that didn’t really concern her.

  He’d wanted to take his time—roughly one killing every week or so—but with Shaye Archer poking around and forcing him to add one more person to his list, he was going to have to speed things up. He pulled out Ethan’s phone and sent a text to the next victim. She had forty-eight hours to find Ethan or he died. So far, no one had even made a move to attempt to find those missing. Probably they all thought the text was a prank.

  It was the last foolish assumption they’d ever make.

  7

  Clara Mandeville opened her front door and her eyes widened as they locked onto Shaye. A second later, she launched forward and threw her arms around Shaye, squeezing her like she hadn’t seen her in years. When she finally released her, Clara stepped back and motioned Shaye into the house, wiping the tears from her eyes as she closed the door.

  Shaye smiled at the woman, feeling her eyes mist up. For so many years, Shaye had been unable to face Clara. The nurse had cared for her at the absolute worst time of her life. She knew all the intimate details of the abuse Shaye had been subjected to because those details were spelled out on her broken body. Clara had held Shaye’s hand when she awakened screaming in the middle of the night and had sat with her until she fell asleep again.

  Clara knew the worst of her. The things she’d tried to put in the past. The nightmares that she never wanted to remember. So once her body was sound again, Shaye left the hospital and she never returned. Until recently. Clara had sent Shaye her first client, a nurse who worked with Clara and was being stalked. Shaye had succeeded in uncovering the identity of the stalker, who had been killed. The nurse had left town to start a new life in a new state.

  Later, when Shaye turned her investigative skills toward uncovering her own missing past, her captor and abuser had attempted to eliminate everyone who could help her, including Clara. The nurse had fought back and narrowly escaped with her life. Shaye still felt an enormous amount of guilt for everything that had happened to the people surrounding her, especially Clara, even though she knew Clara didn’t blame her.

  “It’s so good to see you,” Shaye said. “How are you?”

  “Follow me to the kitchen,” Clara said, “and I’ll show you just how good I am. I’ve been baking.”

  Shaye groaned and followed Clara down the hallway and into the kitchen. Between Clara and Corrine, all of Shaye’s ideas about dropping a couple of pounds were quickly fading away.

  “Do you know how long it’s been since I got in a regular workout?” Shaye asked as s
he slid onto a stool at the counter.

  Clara uncovered a plate of pastries and pushed it in front of Shaye. “That’s my famous peach pies. You can just double your workout when you get around to it again. But you’ll be wanting to have one of those. My neighbors fight over them if they smell them baking.”

  Shaye reached for one of the pies and took a bite. “Oh my God, that’s delicious,” she said, and reached for a napkin to catch the juice before it dripped onto the countertop. “If you sold these, you’d be a millionaire.”

  Clara smiled. “It’s my retirement plan.”

  “So…are you going to tell me how you are?”

  “I’m doing fine. This body is stronger than people think.”

  “The doctors said you were banged up pretty bad.”

  “Please. We both know doctors don’t know anything.”

  Shaye smiled. “Well, I’m glad you’re doing so well.”

  “Me too, and now that I’ve fed you and indulged you with my medical condition, you can go ahead and tell me why you’re here.”

  “I can’t be here just to see how you are?”

  “Yes. And I’m sure you would have been eventually, but since the news hasn’t even broadcast your return yet, I’m figuring it was recent. And while I’m sure you’re concerned about me, I also know you wouldn’t have come here unless it was important. You could have checked in on me with a phone call and not risked running into the reporters who spend a couple days a week parked outside.”

  Shaye sighed. “The reporters are still coming here?”

  “You didn’t really think they’d just give up and go away, did you?”

  Shaye knew the reporters wouldn’t let go until they had their pound of flesh, but if they were still haunting Clara’s block, then that meant they were still hanging around Jackson’s apartment and Eleonore’s house and office as well. Jackson hadn’t mentioned anything about reporters when she’d seen him earlier, but that was just like him. He wouldn’t want her to feel guilty or to worry.

  “I knew they wouldn’t leave me alone,” Shaye said, “but I was hoping they’d eventually give up on others. I’m sorry you’re having to put up with it.”

  Clara waved a hand in dismissal. “I’m not putting up with anything. I park in the garage and they aren’t allowed to block my drive, so it’s no inconvenience to me at all. Jeremy is playing valet for me at the hospital, so they can’t accost me in the parking lot either.”

  Jeremy was a retired cop and a security guard at the hospital where Clara worked. He’d interrupted Clara’s attack, and that was probably the only reason she was still baking peach pies.

  “He feels guilty,” Clara said. “Poor man. We both know it’s not his fault. The only people to blame for evil are those committing it.” She narrowed her eyes at Shaye. “You know that, right?”

  “I know,” Shaye said. “And I remind myself every time I start to feel guilty about all the people who were hurt. I know it wasn’t about me, but it’s hard sometimes to not feel that way.”

  “Of course it is. You’re a good person with a big heart. I’d be more worried if you didn’t have some misplaced sense of responsibility. But as long as you know that none of what happened is on you, then you can move forward.”

  “I’m working on that.”

  Clara sat on the stool next to her. “Did you remember?”

  Shaye nodded. “The memories came back in a rush when…in the crypt. At least, most of them. It crippled me to the point of collapse. I’m still trying to get a grasp on it. I’ve spent hours journaling it, but some days, I don’t even want to get out of bed.”

  “Then don’t. If anyone’s earned some downtime it’s you. Most people wouldn’t be alive after what you went through, much less sitting here eating peach pies and talking to me like a sane person.”

  “Ha. I question the ‘sane’ a lot. About once a week, another memory comes back to me. Small things mostly, but sometimes it’s something bigger. Something that takes me down to my knees all over again.”

  “Maybe your mind is holding some stuff back to protect you,” Clara said. “Feeding you a bit at a time as you can handle it. Our bodies can do amazing things.”

  “I guess. The problem is, I keep thinking it’s everything, you know? Then there’s something else.”

  Clara put her hand on Shaye’s and squeezed. “I can’t even begin to imagine what you’re going through. I know you’ve got your mother and Dr. Blanchet, but if you ever need someone to talk to, you’re welcome to sit down at my counter anytime.”

  “Will you have peach pies?”

  “If you let me know you’re coming, I think that can be arranged.”

  “Thank you, Clara. You’ve always been a great support to me.” Shaye took a deep breath and blew it out. “I’m sorry I didn’t visit you all those years.”

  “Don’t you go piling more guilt on yourself. You needed space and time to get right in your own mind. Do you really think I didn’t know that?”

  “No. You’re probably one of the few people who knew just how much I needed it.”

  “Good. Now that all the guilt trips and apologies are over, why don’t you tell me why you’re here. Don’t even bother to change the subject now. You’ve got that look about you—like you’re tracking something down and you think I might be able to help.”

  “I sorta took on a case this morning.”

  Clara’s eyes widened. “I can’t imagine your mother is going to be happy about that. Are you sure you’re ready to jump back in?”

  “I’m not sure at all, and I’m certain my mother will have a stroke or two, but I couldn’t say no. The girl needs help and a young man’s life could be on the line.”

  “Tell me.”

  Shaye told Clara about Ethan, filling her in on everything Tara had said and what she’d learned from the roommate and at the convenience store. Clara listened, frowning the entire time, and when Shaye finished, she shook her head.

  “It sounds like something out of one of those thriller movies I used to watch. Darn things kept me up at night, so I had to switch to HGTV. The people on there annoy me but they don’t give me nightmares.”

  “Not even granite and hardwood floor nightmares?”

  Clara smiled. “Not yet. So do you think Ethan was right about the girl in the text and the girl in the coffin being one and the same?”

  “I don’t know, but without another reason for Ethan to have disappeared, I have to pursue this line of investigation.”

  “And?”

  “And something doesn’t feel right.”

  Clara nodded. “That’s what I thought. You’ve got good intuition. Let that guide you and you’ll find a lot of answers and stay safe at the same time.”

  “I’m batting high on the answers thing. Not so much on the safe, but I’m working on it.”

  “You better be. You’re an important person doing a thing that no one else does better. We need you here in New Orleans. There’s a lot of people with no other options.”

  “That’s why I can’t give it up. Deep down, my mother gets it, even though she doesn’t like it. She can’t really cry foul given her job. Maybe it’s not as dangerous, but she’s not exactly running charity events or scheduling museum openings.”

  “Corrine is a blessing to the social services system, that’s for certain.” Clara leaned back in her stool. “So I assume you want to know how that girl in the coffin died.”

  “Yes. I know the police won’t tell me, but if it will cause you problems, I don’t want you involved either.”

  “Please. I have the most tenure at that hospital and got attacked in their parking lot to boot. The hospital attorney is so scared of me right now, I could probably set up a knitting business in the middle of the emergency room lobby and no one would utter a word. Besides, I’ve always been a nosy nurse. If someone’s situation interests me, I read their files. Won’t no one think a thing about it.”

  Clara’s words offered Shaye an enormous amoun
t of relief. The last thing she wanted to do was cause problems for this woman, who had given her so much.

  “The police don’t know you’re looking for Ethan, do they?” Clara asked.

  “No. And I’m not offering up that information just yet. I don’t think my name is all that popular with the police department at the moment.”

  Clara scowled. “Bunch of damned fools is what they are. I get that they’re shocked and a lot of them hurt. And those who aren’t shocked or hurt are angry and embarrassed and looking for a scapegoat, but you didn’t cause any of this.”

  “I know that. But I’m a handy person to blame. And the last thing I want to do is cause Jackson more problems.”

  “Are they giving him trouble?”

  “Eleonore said as much. I saw him earlier and he didn’t really have a lot to say about it, but then he wouldn’t to me.”

  Clara nodded. “Because he wouldn’t want you to feel responsible. He’s a good man. I hope you plan on keeping him around.”

  Shaye felt a blush start on her neck and rise up her face. “If he wants to be around, I’m okay with it.”

  Clara raised one eyebrow. “You look a little more than okay, and you don’t know how happy that makes me. I know you’re a cautious one and you’ve got a lot of things to work out in your head before you can add more serious things to the mix, but he’s a keeper. And based on what I’ve seen, that man isn’t going anywhere unless you make him.”

  “I hope you’re right. I’m not quite ready…for everything, you know? But I’d like to be.”

  “And you will.”

  Brenda Lewis heard her cell phone signal an incoming text and started to reach for her purse.

  “Don’t even think about it,” Brenda’s mother said.

  Her mother was a tall, thin, and somewhat scary-looking figure, her brown eyes blazing as she glared at Brenda over her desk in the university administration offices. Many students had sat in the seat Brenda sat in now and had received a lecture about their behavior, poor school performance, and a host of other items that her mother’s superiors had decided she was the most qualified to handle.