Dreadful

by Jana DeLeon

  “Call it.”

  The doctor’s words barely registered, then she realized everyone had ceased moving in the room. Two of the nurses turned to look at her, their expressions filled with sympathy.

  “No!” She shook her head as the doctor hurried into the hallway, managing to grab her as her knees buckled.

  The doctor guided her into the waiting room, and she slid into a seat. Her whole body was numb, and her mind was so foggy she couldn’t formulate a thought. What had Rick been trying to tell her? She didn’t understand. She’d always known he’d do anything for her and Maya, but had he really killed a man? And why?

  “Mrs. Sampson?” The doctor knelt in front of her, looking at her eyes. “Are you all right? Can I call someone for you?”

  Marisa nodded. “My mother.” She gave him the number and he rose. Marisa needed someone here, and she didn’t trust herself to make that call and keep from blurting out everything. But someone needed to be here to handle all the things she probably should be taking care of but couldn’t, because her mind was too wrapped up in the cut brake line and the dead bartender and Caitlyn. No matter where you started, everything circled back around to Caitlyn.

  “Wait here. I’m going to go to the desk and call. I’ll be right over there.”

  Marisa stared at the dotted floor and tried to focus. She had to pull it together. Rick was gone, and it was partially her fault. She’d been the one to push Jenny to hire Shaye Archer, and if she was being honest, it was for selfish reasons. Marisa never resented Jenny for needing her, but she also needed to know that at some point her life would be her own again. Maya was getting older, and Marisa’s obligation needed to be to her daughter first. Jenny needed to learn to live again, and Marisa had hoped that having Shaye go through the motions would help her friend get past everything.

  Instead, she’d unintentionally stirred up something dark. Something evil. And now it was focused on her.

  Her phone buzzed, and she reached into her purse and pulled it out, frowning when she saw it was Jenny. Not now, she thought. She couldn’t handle any of Jenny’s drama right now. The call dropped and the phone started to buzz again. She pressed the button, sending the call directly to voice mail. Several seconds later, a text came through. She looked at the phone, and her blood ran cold.

  Can’t find Momma!

  Marissa glanced at the front desk, where the doctor was on the phone, probably explaining the situation to her parents. She clutched her phone and slipped out the door and into the parking lot before dialing.

  “Marisa!” Jenny sounded on the verge of complete panic. “Momma’s gone.”

  “Calm down,” Marisa said. “Maybe she went to town to buy groceries. Or to a doctor’s appointment.”

  “Her car is in the driveway where it always is. She didn’t feel well last night and went to bed early. When I didn’t see her this morning, I thought she was still feeling bad. You know how she hates to be bothered when she doesn’t feel well, so I figured I’d leave her sleeping. I waited and waited and then finally, I opened her door. She wasn’t there! Her bed was made but she was gone.”

  Marisa searched her mind for any reasonable explanation. “Maybe she left the house before you got up. She might have gone into the barn.” Virginia Taylor had never used the barn, but Marisa was looking for any reason to keep from believing the worst.

  “I checked the barn,” Jenny said. “I checked everywhere…the shed, the walking trail to the pond. I called the neighbors. No one’s seen her. And her hiking shoes are on the porch, right where she always leaves them. She wouldn’t have gone off far without her hiking shoes. And her coat is hanging next to the back door. You know how cold Momma gets.”

  Marisa was struggling not to panic, but the situation Jenny described didn’t sound good. Virginia had been different lately. She’d always been a silent person, but the last month or so, she’d seemed contemplative. And Marisa had noticed she’d been losing weight. She’d wondered if the woman was ill but knew that if she was, she’d never tell because she wouldn’t want people fussing over her. She came from old stock. The kind that cut off a limb with a thresher, tied it off, and finished up in the fields before going inside to take a better look. But if she was ill, maybe she’d wandered off. Maybe she was off down one of the paths and had gotten lost. That wasn’t optimum, especially without her boots or coat, but it wasn’t completely dire.

  What if it was something else?

  But why would Virginia be in danger? She hadn’t prompted or endorsed Shaye’s hiring. She hadn’t protested once she’d found out, but that wouldn’t be her way.

  “Did you call the police?” Marisa asked.

  “The police,” Jenny said, clearly disgusted. “Of course I did, but they just said that Momma was an adult and I had to wait twenty-four hours before reporting her missing. It’s like Caitlyn all over again. Oh Marisa, what if someone took her? What if I’m next?”

  Marisa clenched the phone, Jenny saying the very thing that she’d been thinking. “Can you drive into town? It’s not that far. You could go very slow.”

  “I can’t find the keys! Mama always hid them so I wouldn’t drive. I’ve looked everywhere but I can’t find them.”

  “Okay.” Marisa put one hand to her forehead, trying to think, but it was so hard to gather a single thought. “I want you to get the rifle and go into the living room. Make sure all the windows and doors are locked. I’m on my way to get you. Do you understand?”

  “Please hurry.”

  Marisa cast one last glance at the hospital before hurrying to her SUV. There was nothing she could do here. Not anything that mattered, anyway. And she needed to get away. Away from whatever Rick had done. She knew she’d have to deal with it eventually, but right now, she couldn’t think about it.

  There was nothing she could do for Rick, but if Jenny was in danger, she could get her out of there. The police wouldn’t do anything, and the only other people who could go get her were her parents, who had Maya and were probably preparing to come to the hospital. She’d call them from the road. They’d understand and would handle things until she could get back. But someone had to get Jenny out of that house before she was in the morgue next to Rick.

  She put her vehicle in Drive and squealed out of the parking lot, praying that something hadn’t happened to Virginia. And that Jenny would be safe until she got there.

  JACKSON LOOKED down at Garrett Trahan’s body, then back at the ME. “What can you tell us?”

  “He was struck on the back of the head with something fairly thin and hard,” the ME said. “Something like a pipe or tire iron.”

  Jackson stared at the gaping wound in the man’s stomach. “Is that what killed him?”

  “No. My guess is it incapacitated him. Maybe even rendered him unconscious. I’ll have to do an autopsy, but my best guess is that he bled out from the stomach wound.”

  “Was his wallet on him?” Jackson asked.

  “No. The resident who found him provided a positive ID.”

  “Robbery?”

  The ME hesitated, then shook his head. “My gut says no. There are multiple stabs and they’re wild. The attack looks personal.”

  “Any idea on time of death?” Grayson asked.

  The ME frowned. “Unfortunately, he was still alive when the resident found him.”

  “What?” Jackson stared. “How long had he lain there like that?”

  “Most likely hours,” the ME said, “and in extraordinary pain.”

  “Where’s the resident who found him?” Grayson asked.

  The ME pointed to a man wearing a suit and sitting on a curb next to an officer. Grayson and Jackson headed his way. His shoulders slumped and he looked pale. The knees of his suit were stained dark with blood, and more blood trailed down his jacket and shirt. He rose when they approached, and his hand shook when he extended it to shake.

  “You found Mr. Trahan?” Grayson asked.

  “Yes,” the resident said. “My space i
s near his. We paid extra for the spaces with no direct open air. Keeps the weather off our cars.”

  And offers a nice dark place to attack someone with no fear of witnesses on the street or in a neighboring building, Jackson thought.

  “Did you see anyone else when you entered the parking lot?” Grayson asked.

  “Just a couple other people walking to their cars at the far end of the garage, but they live here.”

  “Walk me through what happened from the time you entered the garage,” Grayson said.

  “I came through the door over there.” The resident pointed to a door nearby. “It’s the stairwell. I sit at a desk all day so I take the stairs when I can. My car is the black BMW next to the white SUV. I saw something on the ground when I entered the garage, but the lighting is dim, so I didn’t know what it was. When I realized it was Garrett…”

  The man took in a deep breath. “I’m sorry. When I saw, I immediately called 911. There was so much blood, but I still checked for a pulse.” He looked at them and Jackson could see the haunted look in his eyes.

  “I felt a pulse,” the resident said. “I thought I’d imagined it but when I pressed his neck again, his eyes opened. Scared the hell out of me. I told him to stay still—that I’d called for help—but he kept trying to talk.” He covered his mouth with his hand and coughed, trying to regain control of his emotions.

  “Red bubbles were coming out of his mouth,” the resident said, “but I leaned over, trying to hear what he was saying. I could only make out one word.”

  “What was it?” Grayson asked.

  “Caitlyn.”

  Grayson looked at Jackson, then back at the resident. “Does that mean anything to you?”

  The man shook his head.

  “Did he say anything else?”

  “No. After that, he started choking and blood gushed from his stomach and then he just went limp.” The man started to shake, and Jackson put his hand on his shoulder.

  “Thank you,” Jackson said. “You did everything you could. The officer took your name and number, right? We’ll contact you to sign your statement once it’s ready. But for now, you should go back home, take a shower and get a change of clothes, and call in sick.”

  “Yeah.” The man nodded. “That sounds like a really good idea.”

  Grayson handed him a card. “If you think of anything else, or if you need anything from us, please call.”

  The man took the card and shuffled off like a zombie. Jackson glanced back at Garrett Trahan’s body and shook his head. “Full circle right back to Caitlyn Taylor,” he said.

  “Could Reynolds and Trahan have been in cahoots?” Grayson asked.

  “At this point, anything is possible. But if they were, then who killed them?”

  “I think if we knew that, all of this would make sense. It feels like there’s just that one thing that needs to fall into place, you know? Like it’s all right there but we haven’t arranged it properly.”

  Jackson nodded. He’d felt the same way since the beginning. That there was some undercurrent they were missing. But what?

  “Did you tell Shaye?” Grayson asked. “This doesn’t look good for her clients.”

  “I told her that Trahan was dead. I guess I should call her and tell her about his last message. She needs to warn the clients even though they’re technically not clients anymore.”

  “What? Why not?”

  Jackson told Grayson about Jenny Taylor’s change of heart and Shaye’s conversation with Marisa.

  “Jenny might change her mind after this,” Grayson said. “I understand her sentiment, but I’m afraid the horses are out of the barn. I don’t think asking Shaye to step off is going to put them back in.”

  “No. I think this is going to keep going until it’s done. I just wish we knew what ‘done’ looked like.”

  25

  SHAYE PUT down her cell phone for a second to think. Jackson didn’t have much information, but what he did have was frightening. Someone had waited for Garrett Trahan in that parking lot, fully intending to kill him. They’d probably assumed he was dead or near death when they’d left. Based on the injuries Jackson had described, it was shocking that he hadn’t, and also horrifying. She definitely hadn’t liked Garrett Trahan, but he hadn’t deserved to die, especially in such an awful way.

  The ME had said the attack looked personal, and Jackson had concurred. Which begged the question, what had Garrett Trahan put out into the universe that had come back on him this way? Had he killed Caitlyn Taylor? What about Cody Reynolds? Shaye had no doubt that both deaths had everything to do with what happened six years ago, but who had killed them? Her investigation must have been the catalyst, but no matter how many times she went through every single second of it, she couldn’t figure out what had caused the devastation that had ensued.

  She picked up her phone again and called Jenny. She needed to know about Trahan’s murder. It might change her mind about keeping Shaye involved. And it might prompt her to get out of that remote house and stay with Marisa until everything was sorted out. Jenny didn’t answer, so she left a message to call her and dialed Marisa.

  “Shaye, thank God,” Marisa answered. “I was just about to call you.”

  “What’s wrong?” She could hear the panic in Marisa’s voice.

  “Virginia Taylor has disappeared, and Jenny is losing it because, of course, the police won’t do anything until twenty-four hours have passed. I’m on my way to pick her up now.” Marisa gave her the details of Virginia’s disappearance.

  “I just called and Jenny didn’t answer,” Shaye said.

  “I told her to get the rifle and wait for me in the living room. There’s something else—Rick’s dead.”

  “What?” Shaye bolted off the stool, not believing what she’d just heard. “How?”

  “Car wreck. This morning. The police said the brake line was cut. Shaye, he was in my car!”

  Shaye clenched the phone, struggling to remain calm. Marisa needed her thinking clearly, but everything she’d just heard had sent her dangerously close to panic mode along with Marisa. She grabbed her keys and purse and ran out of her apartment.

  “I’m on my way,” she told Marisa, and she pulled away from the curb. “Call me as soon as you have Jenny and we’ll figure out where to meet. Do not take any chances. Get Jenny in the car and get away. We’ll get a search party together to look for Virginia. Something is very wrong.”

  “Please hurry.”

  Shaye disconnected and dialed Jackson’s number, but it went straight to voice mail. He’d called her with the information on Garrett Trahan on his way back to the police station. It was highly likely he and Grayson were in with the chief, taking a round of thrashing for Garrett’s murder or maybe another round for the Victor LeBlanc situation.

  She left an urgent message asking him to call her as soon as possible, and sent a text as soon as she was stopped at a red light. Then she dialed the number for the Ponchatoula police. When the dispatcher answered, she asked to be put through to an officer.

  “Officer Dupree,” the man answered.

  “My name is Shaye Archer, and I’m a private investigator from New Orleans.”

  “I know who you are, Ms. Archer. What can I do for you?”

  “I have a client who might be in danger. Her mother is currently missing.”

  “You’re talking about Jenny Taylor. I told Ms. Taylor this morning that we can’t do anything about her mother just now. She’s an adult and has a right to take a stroll if she wants to.”

  “Without her hiking shoes or a coat?” Shaye asked, growing frustrated. “Look, since Jenny hired me to investigate her sister’s disappearance, three people have died, two of them this morning, and all three were murders. Jenny Taylor is in danger, and that means her mother is as well. I’m not asking you to mount a search party, but can you at least send someone to check on Jenny? She has no way to leave her house except on foot, and it’s not safe for her to do so.”

&
nbsp; “Three murders? Are you kidding me?”

  “No. Two in New Orleans and Rick Sampson this morning.”

  The officer was silent for a moment. “Everyone is busy with a fire in one of the buildings downtown. There’s people inside, people looting, and traffic is a mess. Even if I thought you were right, I don’t have anyone to send.”

  “No one at all? Not a neighbor or friend who’s a good shot? I am on my way now, but I’m coming from New Orleans. I just need someone to make sure Jenny is safe until I can get there.”

  He sighed. “Okay. I’ll go out there myself, but I’m hauling Jenny in when I do because I can’t afford any more distraction.”

  “Perfect.”

  Shaye disconnected the call and pressed the accelerator down as she entered the highway. She understood the officer’s disbelief, as she was having a hard time wrapping her mind around all of it herself. And with the department currently stretched with an emergency situation, it was probably hard to work up the energy to take an emotionally unstable woman’s fears seriously. But Shaye knew better. Jenny Taylor might not be emotionally sound, but Shaye was.

  And she’d bet everything that Jenny was in danger.

  MARISSA TURNED onto the Taylor’s drive so quickly that the SUV slid a bit in the dirt. She lifted her foot, reminding herself that she couldn’t help anyone if she had a wreck. Virginia’s car was still parked up front where it usually was and didn’t look as if it had been driven recently. She parked next to it and ran for the house.

  “Jenny!” She banged on the front door, surprised her friend hadn’t been watching for her. “Jenny, it’s Marisa. Come on! Let’s get out of here!”

  But Jenny didn’t answer.