Bayou Bodyguard

by Jana DeLeon

  “Not in the least. That’s your job. My job is protecting you while you do it. As long as you keep both our jobs in mind, we’ll be fine.”

  Finally, the guilt he’d been waiting to see appeared. “You’re right. There’s no need to jeopardize your job by doing mine.” She dropped her head and stared at the ground.

  Brian reached out and placed his hand on her arm. “I’m not worried about jeopardizing my job. I’m worried about jeopardizing your life.”

  Justine nodded, and when she looked up at him, he caught a glint of unshed tears. “So what now?”

  Brian looked around the graveyard until he located a granite marker that was narrow enough to roll. “I guess we figure out if anything interesting is in that crypt.” He walked up to the grave marker and pushed it over, then rolled the solid granite piece over and over until it rested across the opening to the crypt.

  “Just in case,” he said and motioned for Justine to step inside the crypt.

  Justine blew out a deep breath, then stepped over the grave marker and into the crypt, Brian right behind.

  “Do you think the emeralds are in here?” Brian asked.

  “It wouldn’t surprise me. The graveyard would be considered hallowed ground. If the voodoo woman used consecrated ground to bind the emeralds and placed them here, the spirits would guard them.”

  Brian stared. “You mean that’s what they would have believed. Not that it would work.”

  Justine shrugged. “Before I came to laMalediction, I would have absolutely agreed with you.”

  “But now you don’t?”

  “Let’s just say that now I’m not as closed off to the possibilities of what may have happened here as I was before.”

  “Why not?” Brian couldn’t help wondering what had caused the shift in Justine’s thinking. A spirit hadn’t conked Justine on the head or locked her in the crypt.

  Justine stared at him for a moment, her brow wrinkled in concentration. “I don’t really have the words for it, but it’s just a feeling. Something about that house feels alive. It’s a very strong sensation and one I’ve never had before.”

  “Maybe it’s just all the hype combined with the creepiness of the estate and the very real stalker you’ve acquired.”

  Justine shook her head. “I don’t think so. I understand what you’re saying, but what I’m feeling goes so much further than apprehension or fear. It’s like I feel something in my soul.”

  Brian considered her words carefully. He wanted to discount them, but he couldn’t force his mind to do so. Overseas, he’d seen things he didn’t understand…couldn’t explain. Why should he expect everything to have an explanation?

  “You feel it, too, don’t you?” Justine asked.

  “Not like you do. But there’s something lying just beneath the surface. Whether it’s a man or a spirit, I’d probably get the same feeling.”

  “But you’re not disagreeing.”

  “No, I’m not. I think it’s foolish to ignore what our senses tell us. Foolish, and in some cases deadly.” He glanced down the row of vaults. “So, if you were going to hide the emeralds here, I guess you’d put them in the vault?”

  “Probably.”

  He placed his fingers around the edges of one of the front plates and pulled. It didn’t even move an inch. “I don’t think we’re getting these off of here without a crowbar. There’s one in the storage shed at laMalediction. Maybe we should get some supplies and come back.”

  “You’re right,” Justine agreed, her expression resigned. “No use putting forth triple effort when the right tools will make it easy. But we can come back today, right?”

  “Yeah. I need to find a couple of tools, grab some extra ammunition and give John a call. I want to let him know what we intend to do and give him a check-in time. If he hasn’t heard from me by then, I want someone looking for us.”

  “Good idea.” Justine exited the crypt with Brian following behind her.

  “Do you think we should close the door?” Justine asked.

  “No use that I can see. Whoever followed you out here knew how to operate it, so we’re not giving him access he didn’t already have.” He started across the graveyard to the gate, when something white at the top of the gate caught his eye. Increasing his pace, he approached the gate and realized it was a piece of paper pressed over the top of one of the wrought-iron spikes.

  He could see writing on it even before he pulled it off the spike, but the words he saw were the last he expected to see.

  Does he know who you are?

  He turned to Justine, who had walked up beside him and showed her the note. Her eyes widened as she read the words, but the guarded expression was firmly back in place.

  “What does this mean?” he asked her.

  “I…I don’t know.”

  Brian studied her face and body language. She wasn’t telling the truth, but what was she leaving out? “The intruder left this for us to find. It must mean something.”

  “He’s a madman. Why does it have to make sense?”

  “Even crazy people tell the truth. They just often see it differently than others.”

  Justine’s expression hardened. “What do you want me to say—that I have deep dark secrets? Everyone has secrets, but mine have nothing to do with what’s going on here. I told you I don’t know what the note means.”

  She brushed past him and continued down the trail away from the graveyard, never once looking back. Brian stared after her, certain it was high time he found out what Justine was hiding.

  Before it got her killed.

  THE INTRUDER WATCHED THEM as they left the graveyard. The man found the note, just as intended, and the woman had lied, as expected. Her lie didn’t appear to be convincing. The man, her protector, wasn’t a fool…he just wasn’t in possession of all the facts.

  He’d originally thought the woman would leave on her own when she realized someone in Cypriere knew her true identity, but he’d apparently underestimated her. But if the man found out she’d been lying—and to what extent—he might send her away.

  Without the woman in residence, there was no job for the man. Then the house would be empty again, and he could finish his work.

  Chapter Eleven

  Back at laMalediction, Brian instructed Justine to pack some water and food for their return to the graveyard, and headed to the storage shed to find some tools for his new task. As soon as he was inside the shed and out of sight of the main house, he pulled his cell phone from his pocket and gave a mental thanks that he had a signal. He pressed in John’s number at the New Orleans Police Department.

  “Landry.”

  “It’s Brian.”

  “Hey, good to hear from you. Is everything all right out in the creepy boondocks?”

  “Yes and no.” Brian filled John in on all the happenings in Cypriere since the last time they’d talked, but left out the part about Justine sneaking out of the house. He wanted more information before he made a decision on that.

  “Wow. That is not how Olivia and I hoped this would go down,” John said.

  Brian could tell by his voice that John was upset with the news. “Nobody could have expected this,” Brian reassured his friend. “It’s all disjointed and odd. How could anyone plan for the irrational?”

  John sighed. “Hell if I know. The only good thing that came out of my time at laMalediction was meeting Olivia.”

  “And rescuing Rachel.” John’s sister had been kidnapped and held hostage in the hidden tunnels below laMalediction by Ross Wheeler, before he’d determined that Olivia was the true heir to the estate.

  “Goes without saying, man.”

  “I need you to do some legwork for me,” Brian said.

  “Anything you need. Who’s the target?”

  “Justine Chatry.”

  John was silent for several seconds before he responded. “Is there something you left out of your story? Something I need to know about the woman you’re locked in a house with every
night?”

  “I can’t give you anything concrete, but something doesn’t add up. I was watching her face when I showed her the note. She was scared, and then the stone wall immediately went up. She’s hiding something. I just need to know if it’s relevant to the situation.”

  “We did a decent background check and she came up clean. You know, if I have to dig any deeper I’m going to have to talk to people.”

  And any of those people could easily tell Justine the police were checking up on her. The implication of John’s statement was clear to Brian, and he’d already weighed the risk involved.

  “It’s a risk I’ll have to take. Something weird is going on here and I don’t think it’s limited to just laMalediction. The whole town feels off somehow.”

  “Yeah. I’m not going to lie to you. I’m happy to be gone and I don’t ever really want to go back. Driving away from there, it was like a giant weight came off of me.”

  “Listen to us. We sound like a bunch of scared teens.”

  “Maybe. Or maybe we just sound like two smart men. I’m not going to tell you what to do, because I trust your judgment like I do no one else’s, but promise me that if you think it’s too dangerous for you to handle, you’ll get the hell out of there.”

  “That’s a promise I have no problem keeping.”

  “I’ll call you when I have some information.”

  “Great. Give Olivia a kiss for me.” Brian ended the call and slipped the phone back in his pocket, already feeling better. If anyone could dig to the bottom of Justine’s lies, it was John. His friend had the uncanny ability to ferret out even the best-hidden secrets. People automatically liked him, and therefore, automatically responded to his questions.

  He only hoped that Justine’s secret was something of paramount embarrassment and not something more insidious. He liked her, was attracted to her.

  Even if he didn’t trust her.

  JUSTINE PLACED the sandwich fixings on the kitchen counter but didn’t make a move for the bread. Instead, she stared out the window over the kitchen sink, trying to control her rising level of panic. She knew exactly what the note meant. After the first two attempts, the stalker knew she wasn’t going to leave, so now he was trying to expose her, probably hoping Brian would make her go. She’d lied when Brian had confronted her, hoping to buy more time, but didn’t think for a second he’d bought it.

  There was no doubt in her mind that Brian would dig deeper into her background. The question was, could she finish her work at laMalediction before he uncovered all the layers of her new, carefully constructed identity? He had all the resources of the New Orleans Police Department at his disposal. How long would it take? One week? A couple of days?

  She placed her hands on the counter and leaned forward, trying to remain optimistic about her chances of finishing the job. Worst case, she could beg forgiveness for not telling him the truth because she was ashamed. Anyone would buy that, right?

  She blew out a breath. Yeah, people would definitely buy the shame part, but that didn’t mean they’d think she should get to continue working at laMalediction. Which meant she had to make tracks quickly. No more leisurely dinners and long nights of sleep. She would bring journals with her to the rental every night and burn the midnight oil.

  Another thought crossed her mind and she tried to block it out by reaching for the bread. It was no use. Just the fleeting thought of Brian’s lips on hers had her skin tingling all over again, as it had in the swamp. It was so unexpected, she was certain she’d stopped breathing. She’d had the good sense to finally break it off, but she couldn’t remember a single step of her entire walk back to laMalediction. Her mind had been fogged with thoughts of Brian…his lips on hers, how his hands would feel on her body.

  She shook her head, horrified that she’d started the imagery all over again. This wouldn’t do at all. Sure, Brian was an attractive man, but clearly she was just lonely. The last kind of man Justine could allow in her life was a cop. She grabbed the butter knife and started preparing the sandwiches with a vengeance. Who was she kidding? The last kind of man that would want to be involved with her was a cop.

  If Brian knew the truth, he’d run far, far away.

  She finished the sandwiches and secured them in a front pocket of her backpack, then grabbed several bottled waters from the refrigerator and loaded up the inside pocket. At least Brian was willing to allow her to investigate the graveyard, and his suggestion of food meant they wouldn’t have to break and return to the house for lunch, which meant less time lost. With any luck, she’d find the answers to some of her questions today.

  As she stepped into the entry, Brian walked through the front door. He carried a crowbar and a duffel bag. “I included a hammer, chisel and some other thin tools that we might be able to use in tighter spaces,” he said, motioning to the duffel bag. “It’s starting to cloud up, so we need to get a move on.”

  As soon as Justine nodded, Brian exited the house without even so much as a glance at her. Justine secured the pack to her back and followed him out of the house and across the lawn. It was going to be a long afternoon with a cloud of suspicion cast over her, but Justine knew she had to ignore Brian’s attitude and focus on getting the answers she needed.

  She glanced up as she crossed the yard, still trailing behind Brian. Dark clouds were collecting above the estate, swirling around in various shades of gray. Justine knew it wouldn’t be long before the storm developed enough energy to drop down on them. She had to work fast if she was going to discover anything this afternoon.

  With the sun tucked behind the clouds, a dark haze had settled over the graveyard, making the light gray granite of the crypts seem to glow in the increasing dimness. Justine shivered slightly and wished she’d brought her jacket, although she knew her momentary chill wasn’t due to the weather. Before she could successfully creep herself out, she crossed the graveyard to the main crypt.

  “I guess we should have brought a lantern,” Justine commented as she peeked inside the dark crypt.

  Brian unzipped his bag and pulled out a spotlight. “I’ve got something better.”

  Justine nodded. “Where do you want to start?”

  “That’s a question you should be answering. I mean, I assumed you wanted to open the vaults. I’m hoping you don’t want to open any caskets.”

  “No! I’m hoping it doesn’t come to that, but something could be hidden inside the vault along with the caskets.” She pulled a piece of folded paper from her pocket. “First, let me take a quick inventory. I made a list of all the Borque family members that I think died at laMalediction.”

  Brian turned on the spotlight and shined it on the ceiling of the mausoleum from the doorway. The light reflected off the ceiling and illuminated the inside. Justine stepped inside and began comparing the names on her list to the names etched on the individual vaults, checking the names off her list with a pencil as she went. When she got to the last vault, only two names remained on her list. She marked off the name on the last vault and stared at the one remaining name, surprised.

  “What’s wrong?” Brian asked.

  “I don’t understand…”

  Justine scanned the vaults again to ensure she hadn’t made a mistake, but the one name left on her list wasn’t contained on any of the etchings.

  “Is someone missing?” Brian asked.

  “You could say that.” She looked up at Brian, still trying to process what this could possibly mean. “There’s no vault for Franklin Borque.”

  Brian’s eyes widened. “You’re sure?”

  Justine nodded. “That’s why I double-checked.”

  “But why would that be? Franklin Borque had to have commissioned the building of this graveyard along with everything else. Why wouldn’t he be buried in his own family crypt?”

  Justine considered the situation for a moment. “Maybe because of what he did. With his wife dead, Franklin’s father probably would have made the decision on his burial place.”


  “So Franklin may have caused the family too much embarrassment to be allowed to rest in the family crypt?”

  “Maybe. Or maybe his father brought him back to New Orleans to rest in a family crypt there.”

  Brian frowned. “So, if he was buried here, where would the body be?”

  “Probably in the graveyard outside of the family mausoleum. If Franklin’s family was Christian, they may have insisted he be buried in an unmarked grave outside of the graveyard to punish him for his sins.”

  “Wow. Excommunicated even in death.” Brian looked down the row of vaults. “So what now?”

  Justine pointed to a vault that stood as high as her waist and had more elaborate etching than those around it. “We start with Marilyn Borque. If the emeralds are hidden in a vault, it will probably be hers.”

  Brian passed Justine the spotlight and grabbed his crowbar. “Marilyn it is.”

  Justine stepped to the side to give him clear access to the vault. She tried not to notice how good his hard body felt as it brushed her in passing. Focus on the job, she reminded herself. Brian hesitated in front of the vault and Justine had the fleeting idea that disturbing the dead might be creeping him out, but then she noticed his gaze was concentrated on one corner of the vault.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  “Someone’s already been in here.”

  Brian pointed to a corner of the vault facing and Justine stepped in for a closer look. Sure enough, around the edge were the telltale scratches in the granite that told her someone had been there before them.

  “Can you tell if they were able to open it?” she asked.

  “No. I guess we’ll just have to see what’s inside.”

  Brian worked the edge of the crowbar under the lip of the vault facing and pushed the bar backward, slowly inching the vault facing from its slot. When he’d worked it out about a half an inch, he removed the crowbar and placed it on the other side of the facing, repeating the process.

  “Should I hold the facing so it doesn’t fall?” Justine asked.