by Jana DeLeon
Her mother looked at her with black eyes that seemed to see straight through her. “The spirits prefer the darkness of the storm. They thicken the air.”
Justine didn’t bother pointing out that the storm was responsible for clogging up the airwaves. Her mother wouldn’t hear it, and Justine had given up futile arguments long ago. She sat on the end of Ava’s bed. “I need to ask you some questions about the Borque family. Do you remember telling me about them?”
Her mother was silent for a couple of seconds and Justine was afraid she’d lapsed into one of her bouts of lost memory, but finally she nodded. “I remember. They were a cursed family. Betrayal and greed brought on their deaths…released the curse.”
“Franklin Borque brought on their deaths.”
“He was obsessed with the lion, but Marilyn stole it from him. Stole what mattered most, and he brought the spirits down on her.”
“Do you know what Marilyn did with the emeralds?”
Ava frowned. “I don’t know of any emeralds.”
“The emeralds from the lion statue. The voodoo woman contained them and Marilyn hid them where they couldn’t do evil any longer.”
Ava stared blankly at her. “The lion…it was the lion.”
Justine bit her lower lip, trying to control her frustration. They’d reached the same impasse the last time she’d asked her mother about the stones. For whatever reason, her memories now seemed to stop with the lion.
Ava turned her head to look back out the window. “‘Water, water everywhere…’”
Justine sighed. “The Rime of the Ancient Mariner” had always been her mother’s favorite. “Mother. The Borques, remember? What did Marilyn do with the emeralds?”
Ava continued to stare outside. “I don’t know any Borques, honey. You must be mistaken.”
Justine saw her mother’s eyes close and knew she’d gotten everything out of her that she could for now. Maybe for good. Ava hadn’t told Justine the story of the cursed lion since she was a little girl, no matter how many times she’d tried to get more information. Justine had never been able to make a connection until Olivia had contacted her for the job at laMalediction. Her mother had claimed the story was an old family tale, but until now, Justine had been unable to produce a lead.
Justine’s first thought when speaking to Olivia was that perhaps her mother’s family had been servants in the Borque household, but when Olivia told Justine about the diaries and Marilyn Borque’s illegitimate child, Justine had the overwhelming feeling that her mother hadn’t descended from servants but from Marilyn Borque herself.
She rose from the bed and leaned over to kiss her mother on the cheek. Ava didn’t even stir. Justine left the room and continued farther down the hall to the nurse’s station. Hilda looked up at her from the desk and smiled, her bright white teeth shining against her dark, aged skin.
“I’m glad to see you, child.”
“I heard Mother was acting up.”
Hilda nodded. “She sorely tested my patience yesterday. Wasn’t nothing going to calm her down but my calling you. I tried to tell her that it went straight to voice mail, but she was in a bad way. Insisting you was surrounded by evil and had to be rescued. Raised all kinds of hell, wanting me to call the police.”
Justine stared. “Ava wanted you to call the police?” Hilda knew her mother’s history with the police.
“Surprised the hell out of me, too, but the only way I could get her to take her meds was by promising to call them. Doctor Murphy gave her something to help her sleep, and by this morning, I’m sure she’s forgotten all about the police part, which is just as well, since I wasn’t about to call them and report a haunting, or whatever she called it.”
“Why didn’t you leave me a message yesterday? I would have gotten it eventually.”
“Oh, honey, if I would have thought there was something to it, I would have. But I knew you were out of town working. There was no sense bothering you over one of your mother’s spells. There’s going to be a lot more of them before she leaves this world.”
“But you called this morning.”
Hilda nodded. “She forgot about calling the police, not about calling you. Started nagging me first thing this morning. I made her wait until a decent hour and told her I’d leave a message when I didn’t get you, but she said not to. Said you were already on your way here.”
Justine stared at Hilda. “I haven’t talked to her in days, and I didn’t decide to come until this morning. How could she possibly know that?”
“I’ve spent thirty years working with people here. People that was not long for this world. Seen some mighty strange things in my time. Things I can’t explain by this world’s standards.”
“You think she sees things?”
“I think maybe, when you’re close to the other side, you see things that fully alive people can’t.”
“How much longer?”
Hilda sighed. “The doctor says the valves in her heart’s all but gone. Maybe a month. Maybe two.”
The breath caught in Justine’s throat. “Thanks,” she managed to say, and walked out of the clinic with a backward wave at the receptionist.
She slid into the driver’s seat of her car and clutched the steering wheel, staring out the windshield at the dark, rainy sky that exactly matched her feelings. Justine had issues with her mother, that was certain, and no one would ever accuse her of not having the right to…no one who knew their history, anyway. But that didn’t mean Justine couldn’t understand the reasons behind the things her mother had done, even if she struggled every day with forgiving them.
Regardless of the past, Justine didn’t want her mother to die, especially this way. Locked away in a facility with white walls and locks on the door. The exact same way she’d spent much of her life. There had been bouts of good times, when it seemed as if the doctors had found the right combination of meds and therapy to make her normal, but they’d never been able to keep her that way. No matter the type of medication, Ava’s strange internal system eventually built up an immunity to it and she slipped slowly back into madness. Now the lucid moments were so rare that Justine didn’t hold any hope of getting useful information from her any longer, but at least she’d tried.
Justine started the car and left the facility for the library. The library had free internet and a ton of source books she could utilize for her research into the Borque family tree. With any luck, she might already have the email from John, which should give her a good starting point.
BRIAN DROVE DOWN the narrow street to the rental house, mulling over the exchanges he’d had in the café. He hoped Justine had better luck with her research than he had so far. All he’d seemed to manage was to scare people or piss them off. Neither was a big help, although Chris Pauley was now at the top of his list of people he wanted to take a closer look at.
He saw the curtains on the house next to the rental fall back in place as he pulled into the driveway. What had the sheriff said the woman’s name was, the one who heard the alarm? Bergeron maybe? Yeah, that was it.
He stepped out of the Jeep and hurried across the front lawn to the house next door, not surprised in the least when a tiny old woman answered the door almost immediately.
“Mrs. Bergeron?”
The woman gave him a suspicious look. “It’s ‘Miss.’ Never had the displeasure of putting up with a man.”
This was going well. “My name is Brian Marcentel. I’m renting the house next door.”
“I know who you are. Living in sin with that woman that ain’t your wife.”
Brian was momentarily taken aback. That was something he hadn’t yet been accused of this morning. “We’re not living in sin, ma’am. We’re both working for the Borque estate. We sleep in separate bedrooms.”
She didn’t look the least bit convinced.
“I swear,” he said and raised one hand, wondering if she would get a Bible for the other.
“Hmmmpf.” She frowned, but stepped back and mo
tioned him inside. “If you got something to say, best say it inside. That cool air bothers my arthritis.”
Brian stepped inside and pulled the door shut behind him. Miss Bergeron was in a small kitchen just to the right of the front door, and motioned for him to take a seat at a tiny dining table.
“I was just fixing some tea. Tea’s good in chilly weather and doesn’t stain my false teeth as bad as coffee.” She poured a cup of tea into a dainty porcelain cup and placed it in front of Brian, then poured one for herself and took a seat across from him.
Brian dumped an unprecedented amount of sugar in the cup, hoping to drown out the taste of the tea, which he hated. He knew better than to try and get out of drinking it altogether, especially if he was hoping to get information out of the woman.
“I don’t cotton much to gossip,” Miss Bergeron said, “or living outside the good Lord’s word, but I’ve seen the lights on in both bedrooms at night, so I figure you’re speaking the truth. Still, it doesn’t look right, two young people staying together in such close quarters.”
“No, ma’am. I can see where people would get the wrong idea. I’m glad you gave me a chance to explain.”
“Well, you seem like a decent enough young man. How’s the tea?”
Brian took a sip and tried not to grimace. “Lovely, thanks. Miss Bergeron, at the café this morning, Sheriff Blanchard said you told him you heard the trouble last night. Did you hear the window break?”
“Yes. My first thought was that stray dog had tipped over the trash again, but then I heard that alarm and I knew it wasn’t dogs that had set it off.”
“Did you look outside?”
“Of course. Daddy taught all us girls how to shoot a shotgun, and I’m not afraid to use one. One of my bedroom windows faces that house, but I couldn’t see anything in the storm.” She frowned and looked down at her tea.
Brian immediately picked up on her uncertainty. “Are you sure you didn’t see anything? Even if you’re not certain what it was?”
She stirred her tea for a couple seconds more, then sighed. “Well, I don’t guess it can possibly hurt, but I thought I saw something white moving in the woods just behind the house.”
“An animal?”
“No. It was far too tall to be an animal, but what person in their right mind would be running around in a storm like that?”
“Kids maybe,” Brian said, throwing out the sheriff’s favorite catchall.
“You’ve been listening to Sheriff Blanchard too long. He used to be a good lawman, but the closer he gets to retirement, the lazier he gets. Blames everything on kids because he doesn’t want to get up off his rear and do some work.”
Brian began to warm to his somewhat crotchety neighbor. “So you don’t think it was kids.”
“If you were asking me do I think kids might chuck something through your window for fun, then I’d say sure they would. But even the kids in Cypriere’s smart enough to come in out of a storm like what we had last night. And although I doubt we have any budding rocket scientists around here, I’d say they’re all smart enough to wear dark colors if they’re going around like a bunch of hooligans.”
Brian nodded, unable to find a flaw in Miss Bergeron’s logic. Funny how the little old lady seemed to have a better grip on the people of Cypriere than the man who was charged with protecting it.
Brian felt his cell phone vibrate in his pocket and pulled it out. It was a text from John asking him to call as soon as he could. He rose from the table. “You’ll have to excuse me. This is a work call that I need to take. I appreciate you taking the time to talk to me, Miss Bergeron. If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to ask.”
Miss Bergeron snorted. “I ain’t the one with all the trouble, but I appreciate the offer. Shows your mamma raised you with some manners and respect for your elders.” She followed Brian to the door and closed it behind him.
Brian pressed in John’s number as he ran across the lawn and let himself into the rental house.
“Are you drowning out there yet?” John asked as soon as Brian answered the phone.
“Almost. This place certainly has its share of spectacular storms.”
“I guess you’re stuck at the rental, right? Is there somewhere you can talk where you can’t be heard?”
Brian perked up. “Justine left this morning for New Orleans to do some research on the voodoo angle. Did you find something?”
“No. And that’s the problem. Before ten years ago, Justine Chatry didn’t exist. No driver’s license, school records, birth records…it’s like she appeared out of nowhere at age eighteen.”
Brian sank onto the living room couch, trying to absorb what John had said. “But she went to college in New Orleans. They must have school records if she was admitted.”
“She claimed she was homeschooled and tested out of all her basic classes for entry. I don’t like it, Brian. Don’t get me wrong, since she materialized out of thin air, Justine’s clean as a whistle. Not even a traffic ticket.”
“Which is almost suspicious in itself.”
“Almost,” John agreed.
“Did you find any family? Anyone listed as next of kin on paperwork?”
“Not a soul. I even got a buddy of mine to pull her phone records. She calls work, Chinese takeout and some assisted-living center, but there’s no one there with her last name. I figure maybe that’s work-related, too, as she mostly does ancestry research and work with antiques.”
Brian rose from the couch and paced across the living room and kitchen area. John had been very thorough, but something didn’t feel right. Something he couldn’t quite put his finger on.
“You still there, buddy?” John asked.
“Yeah,” Brian said, and opened the pantry door to grab a protein bar. “Just trying to make sense of it.”
He pulled a protein bar out of the box and stuck the box back in the pantry, next to the jars of spaghetti sauce. And that’s when it hit him. Why Justine had looked so familiar when they were eating spaghetti.
“Did she only call one assisted-living center?”
“I think so. Hold on…yeah, only that one. You think something’s there?”
“Maybe. Give me that number.”
John read off the number and Brian wrote it down on a pad of paper on the kitchen counter.
“What are you thinking?” John asked.
“I’d rather not say until I know for sure. It’s just a hunch, and a real thin one. I’ll call you back if I get anything.”
“Sounds good,” John said, and rang off.
Brian tore the phone number off the notepad and paced the length of the front rooms twice before stopping. He stared at the number, wanting to call, but afraid of what he’d find. It couldn’t be, right? The odds of running into her after all these years were a million-to-one.
Before he could change his mind, he pressed in the number for the assisted-living facility. “May I speak to Ava Comeaux?” he asked when the receptionist answered.
“I’m sorry, sir,” the receptionist replied, “but she had a rough night and the doctor gave her a sedative. She’ll probably be out for several hours. Would you like me to tell her you called?”
“No, thank you,” Brian managed before he ended the call.
He slumped onto the couch and placed his phone and the paper on the coffee table. What in God’s name was he supposed to do now? No wonder Justine had been so skittish and secretive. No wonder she’d avoided him as much as possible. She must have recognized him from the beginning and lived in constant fear that he’d recognize her. That’s why she seemed so afraid that night at dinner, when he commented that she seemed familiar.
It was twenty years ago, but he could still remember that night as if it was yesterday. He was just sitting down to spaghetti dinner with his mom and dad when his uncle, the sheriff in their tiny bayou town, had called. There had been a house fire, and he rescued a little girl. He needed a safe place for her to stay until he could sort out the m
ess.
A deputy dropped the girl off at the house. She was eight years old and scared to death. The deputy explained that she’d escaped harm by hiding in the bedroom closet, and they discovered her before the fire moved to the back of the house. Her mother, the only other occupant, had been transported by helicopter to the hospital in New Orleans. The girl claimed they had no living relatives.
His mom had helped her wash her face and hands and finally convinced her to eat. She didn’t talk and avoided looking directly at anyone, but Brian could tell she was hungry by the way she looked at the plate of food. He remembered wondering when the last time she’d eaten had been. Even though he was only ten himself, he’d helped his mom deliver food to the poor in their community every Saturday. He knew what hungry looked like.
The girl had tackled the spaghetti with a gusto that surprised all of them. His mother had quietly refilled her plate and the girl looked up at her with a shy smile, the same smile he’d seen that night he and Justine had eaten spaghetti for dinner. It couldn’t possibly be a coincidence that the only number, aside from random fast food that Justine called on a regular basis, just happened to the facility that cared for Ava Comeaux. Ava had to be Justine’s mother.
The woman who’d locked Justine in the bedroom closet and set fire to the house.
Chapter Fifteen
Justine powered up her laptop on a table in the back corner of the library. It was empty and quietly tucked away behind the rows of books, and Justine felt a semblance of security for the first time in days, which surprised her. She hadn’t realized until entering the library just how uneasy Cypriere made her feel. She’d tried to maintain a professional perspective about the job and the location and thought she’d succeeded, but apparently, she’d only been fooling herself. Clearly the job unnerved her more than she’d wanted to admit.
She logged on to the internet and saw that John’s email was the first in her inbox. She took a deep breath in and slowly blew it out before clicking on the email and opening the attached file. The documents had scanned clearly and were easy to read. Wheeler’s organization had fortunately not been affected by his mental state and Justine easily scanned through the documents, tying them all together.
