Dreadful

by Jana DeLeon

  “That’s horrible,” Brenda said. “But what does my father have to do with it?”

  “My client doesn’t believe the baby died. She thinks her child was sold on the black market.”

  Brenda’s eyes widened as the implication of what Shaye was saying hit her. “And you think my father could have been involved? Okay. Give me a second to process that. He was a family law attorney and I know he handled private adoption, but I never thought…”

  Brenda frowned.

  “What’s wrong?” Shaye asked.

  “Something my mother said back before she left him. I had forgotten about it until now. She was dragging me out of the house. I was maybe eight and crying because I didn’t understand what was happening. He said he’d take me away from her. And she said, ‘She’s too old to be valuable.’”

  Brenda’s hand flew up to cover her mouth and she looked at Shaye, a horrified expression on her face. “Oh my God. My mother never would tell me why she left him. Just that he made choices she couldn’t have on her conscience.”

  Shaye struggled to remain calm. Just because Jerry Allard might have been involved in shady adoptions didn’t mean he had anything to do with her baby. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to cause you any distress.”

  “No. It’s fine. You have a job to do, and your client deserves answers. What a horrible, horrible thing. I’m a pediatric nurse, and we deal with difficult cases like severe birth defects and terminal illness. I see what parents go through losing a child. I can’t imagine…” She took a deep breath and blew it out. “So how can I help?”

  “I wondered if you had your father’s records from his practice? If so, I was hoping you’d allow me to go through them. But I understand if that makes you uncomfortable.”

  “I don’t think it could make me any more uncomfortable than it already has, but if my father took part in what happened to your client, I want her to get answers. I put everything from his office in storage. I was afraid to get rid of it in case a client needed something. I planned on having it all scanned at some point but haven’t gotten around to it.”

  She jumped off her stool and opened a kitchen drawer and pulled out a key. “This unlocks the storage unit.” She handed the key to Shaye. “I’ll give you a card with the location and the access code, so you can get inside. And I’ll call the manager and let him know you have my permission to be there. I have to warn you. It’s rather a mess. The movers just shoved everything into boxes and hauled it off. I don’t think they even labeled anything.”

  Shaye took the key, hardly believing her luck. “That’s all right. I’ll bring a folding table to work on.”

  “Don’t even bother. There’s no overhead light, and it’s cold and dark there. Take whatever you need with you. Go through as many boxes as you can haul at a time and then trade them out for another set. I trust you to put them all back.”

  “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this. And please know that I’m not certain of anything. There’s just as good a possibility that your father wasn’t the attorney who brokered the deal for my client’s baby.”

  “Maybe not, but he had a lot of money and a couple of high-dollar debt-free properties when he died. I always wondered how he managed to accumulate them, but he claimed he was a good investor. Never saw a single equity statement, mind you.” She looked around and sighed. “I guess now I have to figure out how to deal with the fact that my inheritance paid for this house.”

  Shaye reached across the counter and put her hand on Brenda’s arm. “That’s not on you, and you shouldn’t feel bad about it at all. Trust me. I know what I’m talking about on this one.”

  Brenda nodded, and Shaye could see the tears brimming in her eyes. “Yes, I suppose you do. I’m sure I’ll figure out a way to compartmentalize it eventually but for right now, I’m going to wallow a bit in horrified and angry.”

  “I’m really sorry to bring this to you.”

  “I’m not. It’s always been there, you know? That thing in the back of my mind telling me that something didn’t fit, but I could never figure it out. Then when you started talking, it all fell into place. I have no doubt my father was involved in exactly what you suspect. Maybe not for your client, but for others. Too many things—little snatches of overheard conversation between him and my mother and between my mother and my grandmother—are starting to come back to me. Lining up like little toy soldiers. I hope the answer your client needs is there.”

  “So do I. And thank you again.” Shaye rose from the stool and prepared to leave.

  “Ms. Archer?” Brenda stopped her.

  “Yes?”

  “If you get answers for your client, will you let me know? I don’t need to know who the client was or the details of what happened. But I’d like to know that she got what she was looking for. I’ll be thinking about her.”

  Shaye nodded. “If I get an answer, I’ll let you know.”

  It had been a long shot to pay Brenda a visit, but it had turned out so much better than Shaye had ever hoped. Maybe Jerry Allard wasn’t the lawyer who’d brokered the sale of her baby. But at least she had the means to prove it one way or another. And she was going to head over to that storage unit and start digging right away.

  16

  MARISA WALKED into her house at 1:00 p.m. and headed straight for the bedroom. She’d been calling and texting Rick all morning but he’d never responded. Janice had seen how frazzled she was and had just told her to go home and check on him when the store owner showed up. He’d spent the next two hours barking orders and complaining about all the things that weren’t done until she and Janice were both completely spent. There was absolutely no pleasing him but unfortunately, there was also a shortage of jobs in Ponchatoula, especially that let Marisa incorporate her accounting degree a tiny bit. She was still holding on to the hope that the little bookkeeping she did get to do would help her résumé when a better position came open somewhere in town.

  In the meantime, she was a glorified clerk and number one whipping boy. By the time he left, Marisa was so panicked that Janice insisted she go even though Janice had been scheduled first for lunch. So she’d broken major speeding laws getting home only to find Rick’s SUV still in the driveway. Which only caused her to panic more.

  At first, she’d hoped he’d gone to work and simply forgotten his phone at home, but when she’d called the office, they hadn’t seen him yet that morning. She’d hoped he was at court or a client’s location and his office just had their signals mixed, but seeing his car here totally eliminated a simple explanation. So why wasn’t he answering?

  She ran straight down the hall for the bedroom and shoved open the door, startling Rick, who looked like he’d been asleep.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, bolting up. “Is Maya okay?”

  Marisa dropped onto the corner of the bed before she collapsed. “I’ve sent you a million messages and you never answered. I was afraid something had happened.”

  “What in the world could have happened to me in my own bed? I know I have a lot of stress but I’m too damned young for a heart attack. Why are you panicking?”

  “I don’t know. I guess it was foolish. No. That’s a lie. I’m panicking because someone murdered that bartender, and Shaye said we might be in danger. Then you never responded to me, and you always respond to me unless you’re with a client or in court.”

  “I was sleeping. I told you I didn’t feel well.”

  “And you’re never sick. And even when you are, you never sleep. You never skip work. So sue me for thinking everything was off.”

  “Okay, well, I’m sorry I worried you.” He studied her. “Are you sure that’s it?”

  Marisa bit her lip. All morning, she’d been trying to decide if she was going to confront Rick over the mileage and the coffee cup. Finally, she decided she wouldn’t be able to sit in the same room with him all night without knowing the truth.

  “Why were you in New Orleans yesterday?” she asked.


  “I was at work yesterday.”

  “Yesterday afternoon you were, but where were you yesterday morning? If I call your office will they verify you were either in the building, at a client’s, or in court? I’m guessing not, because none of those things would have put two hundred miles on the SUV and provided you with a coffee from your favorite NOLA café.”

  Rick studied her for several seconds, then sighed. “I had an interview.”

  Marisa blinked and stared. Of all the things she’d imagined, that one hadn’t even been on the list. At best, she’d figured he was hiring a divorce attorney. At worst, she thought he might already have a girlfriend who would make the whole process a nightmare, especially where Maya was concerned. But she’d never thought he’d go through with his threat to find a job in the city.

  “An interview?”

  “Yes. You keep suggesting it, and I don’t see things changing here. Mark called last week and said they had an opening at his firm. It’s entry-level, but even that pays six figures. If I get the job, I figure I can get a small apartment in the Quarter until I can save enough to buy a house and move you and Maya there. That way, when the hours are really bad, I have a place to stay and you and Maya could come to the city on weekends and we could take her to do stuff…the zoo, the aquarium.”

  Instantly, Marisa felt guilty. Here she’d been imagining everything from he was going to divorce her all the way to he’d killed a man they didn’t even know, and all he was doing was trying to get a better life for them. Maybe she’d been unfair when it came to a lot of things about Rick. He’d given up a lot careerwise to be here in Ponchatoula and he’d done it all for her, probably thinking that after a year or so Jenny would be better and they could leave. But Jenny hadn’t gotten better, and then Maya had come along. A good surprise, but a surprise nonetheless. So he’d continued to stay for Maya.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked.

  He shrugged. “It’s a long shot, you know. There are guys with more experience competing for the job, and I didn’t want you to think I was a loser if I didn’t get it.”

  A second wave of guilt washed through her. “I’ve never thought you were a loser. I know how much you’ve given up for Maya and me. I just don’t tell you often enough how much I appreciate it.”

  He looked at her, and the hope in his expression made her heart clench. Rick wasn’t perfect, but neither was she. And he was doing the best he could for them. She needed to remind herself of that when he got snippy and she got frustrated.

  “Anyway,” he said, “I was going to tell you after the first interview, but then Shaye told us about that bartender getting killed and I figured the last thing I needed to do was put myself in New Orleans that morning.”

  “But we didn’t even know him,” she said.

  “Doesn’t matter. I’m part of all of this and if Shaye and the police knew I was in New Orleans, that gives me opportunity in two crimes. The last thing I need is the police questioning the partners at the firm about my whereabouts. No one is going to hire a criminal defense attorney if he’s being investigated for a felony.”

  “Oh God. I hadn’t even thought about it that way. So how did the interview go?”

  He smiled. “It went well. Really well. They’re going to schedule for me to come back and talk to one of the partners who was on vacation. Mark said that I’m on the short list and he thinks I have a good shot.”

  “That’s great.” She leaned forward and kissed him lightly on the mouth. “I hope you get it. You deserve it.”

  “Thanks. I just wish the timing were a little better. This whole investigation could cause me serious problems.”

  “Oh my God!” Marisa spun her entire body around to face Rick. “I completely forgot to tell you. Jenny called me earlier in a panic. She said someone took a shot at her while she was walking in the woods.”

  Rick frowned. “That sounds more like poachers to me.”

  “I know. I thought the same thing, but Jenny insisted she could feel the difference somehow. I couldn’t tell her she was crazy, even if she is. Anyway, I offered to let her stay here for a while, but she refused. She’s got it in her head that her being here will put us in danger.”

  He took her hand and squeezed it. “Honey, you know Jenny hasn’t been right since Caitlyn disappeared. And when she gets stuck on something, she doesn’t let it go. If she thinks she needs to stay at home, then don’t push. After a while, she’ll realize it was just someone trespassing for deer.”

  “You really think it was a poacher?”

  “Yes. Why would someone shoot at Jenny? What could anyone possibly gain from her dying? This bartender could have been mixed up in all kinds of things, but Jenny doesn’t do anything but sit in that house and watch the weeds grow. She’s not a threat.”

  “But what if she’s remembering?”

  “No one knows about that but us, Jenny, and Shaye Archer. And if she ever remembers something relevant, we’ll deal with it then.”

  “You’re right. I’m just getting anxious about everything.”

  “It’s a lot to process. That’s normal. But Jenny depends on us to be the calm ones.”

  Marisa blew out a breath. “That’s getting harder by the minute.”

  “Try not to worry about it. All this will blow over soon enough and either Jenny will accept Shaye’s report and make an attempt to get on with her life or she’ll go back to the way she was before.”

  “I’m sure you’re right,” Marisa said. But she still worried. Things had already gotten worse—more complicated. Exactly what she’d been trying to avoid. “I’ll let you get back to sleep. Do you need me to get you anything before I go? Did you eat?”

  “I’m fine. If I get hungry, I’ll heat up some soup or something. You already have enough to worry about without having to wait on me.”

  “Okay. I’ll call before I leave work in case you need me to pick something up at the drugstore. And if you need anything before then, call or text. I’m keeping my phone in my pocket just in case Jenny changes her mind.”

  Rick nodded and slid back down into the bed. Marisa headed out of the room, giving him one lingering look before she closed the bedroom door. Despite claiming he didn’t feel well, Rick didn’t look sick, and his hand hadn’t been sweaty or clammy, the way they usually got when he came down with something. What he looked was worried, but then that was probably because of the interview. She knew how bad he’d wanted something like this. If it didn’t pan out, she wasn’t sure he’d try again.

  She headed through the kitchen and into the utility room, figuring she’d take some chicken out of the freezer to thaw for dinner. The chicken was at the back of the freezer in the corner, so she had to balance over the edge to reach it. When she raised back up, she glanced over at the door into the backyard and frowned. There was a mat next to the door that she kept their rubber boots on.

  After their last fishing trip, she’d scrubbed the boots and washed the mat, but she could see flecks of mud in the middle of the mat. She picked up one of Rick’s boots and looked at the bottom. It was clean, but it was damp. Their last fishing trip had been over a week ago. No way the boots were still wet from that cleaning. She put the boot back down and hurried out of the kitchen.

  Now more worried than ever.

  VICTOR LEBLANC SAT at a table in the back of the near-empty café. A cup of coffee sat in front of him, but the level of liquid indicated that he hadn’t touched it. He looked up at Jackson and Grayson as they approached, and Jackson could see the extreme anxiety in the man’s expression. He rose from the table and extended his hand. Jackson noticed it was shaking when he reached out. During the time Grayson and Jackson had been in charge of the investigation, Victor had remained steadfast. The strain and worry had shown in his expression, but they had never been this pronounced.

  Something had happened. Something that had shaken the unshakable Victor LeBlanc.

  Jackson glanced over at Grayson, who gave him a look that said h
e saw the same things. Jackson had no doubt that whatever Victor LeBlanc was about to say, it was going to be something neither of them could have predicted.

  “Mr. LeBlanc,” Grayson said.

  Jackson shook the man’s hand and they all sat. After several seconds of silence, Victor reached for a sugar packet and pulled it open, but he yanked too hard and spilled most of it on the table. He dumped the rest in the cup and stirred, not even seeming to notice.

  “Thank you for coming,” Victor said. “I was afraid you wouldn’t, given what I did with the whole FBI thing.”

  “You did what you thought was best for your granddaughter,” Grayson said. “In your position, I would use all the resources I had at my disposal as well.”

  Victor nodded. “I just want her back and unharmed. I mean, as much as a child can be after something like this. But as long as she’s alive, we can get her the help she needs to deal with…with whatever might happen.”

  “Of course,” Grayson agreed.

  “So that’s why I called you here,” Victor said. “I made a mistake. A huge mistake getting the FBI involved.”

  “Why do you say that?” Grayson said. “Are they not handling things to your satisfaction?”

  “It’s not that,” Victor said. “I’m sure they’re the best at what they do, but when I called in this favor, I didn’t know…there were things…”

  “Sir?” Grayson said. “Clearly you called us here because you think we can help you, but we can’t do that if you don’t tell us what’s wrong.”

  Victor looked up from his coffee mug, all the color drained from his face. “I know who’s behind this. I know who’s behind all of this.”

  “Who?” Grayson asked.

  “My son,” Victor whispered.

  Jackson glanced over at Grayson, who looked as shocked as Jackson felt.

  “Your son?” Grayson repeated. “You’re sure?”