by Sala, Sharon
“You’ll get counseling and figure out how to deal, and we’ll get through this together.”
She choked. “I love you so much.”
“I love you, too, sweetheart. See you soon.”
He tossed his cell phone on the bed and changed his gym shorts for a pair of jeans. He was getting ready to shave when he heard someone knocking at the door and headed for the living room. He could hear his mother and Linny talking in her bedroom and knew they, too, were waiting for him to make good on a promise. He had too many responsibilities and not enough time. He walked into the living room just as Sam opened the door.
Detective Carson was on the threshold flashing his badge.
“I’m Detective Carson. Are you Brendan Poe?”
“No. I’m his brother, Sam.”
Brendan walked up behind his brother. “I’m Brendan.”
“May I come in?” Carson asked. “I won’t keep you long.”
“Yes, of course. Sorry I’m not dressed. Didn’t get much sleep last night. These are my brothers, Chance and Sam Poe.”
Carson nodded cordially.
“No apologies necessary. I have yet to go to bed, but it’s on my agenda for today. I came to thank you personally for what you did last night. You acted quickly when the city was in a crisis situation, and it made the difference in Juliette March’s survival.”
“I’m the one who should be thanking you,” Brendan said. “You found her alive. That’s all that mattered to me.”
“We were just doing our job,” Carson said. “I also wanted to give you an update on your stalker. After several interesting revelations, it’s beginning to look like the man we arrested is an active serial killer who’d never been identified. His real name is Conrad Walton, aka Chub Walton, and I’m guessing he’s never lived in Louisiana before, or he would’ve known not to bury his bodies in the back yard. He had no idea that, since we’re below sea level, bodies don’t stay buried here. We were still processing the crime scene at sunrise when one of the officers came upon three fingers and the toe of a shoe poking up out of the ground behind the house, kinda like those fairy circles of toadstools that pop up after a rain.
“After last night’s thunderstorm, it pretty much floated to the surface. We got to looking and found another right beside it. When we began questioning him about it, the bastard not only admitted to the murders, but bragged about them. He knows the death penalty is legal in our state and pitched a deal to the District Attorney, offering to give up the locations of his other victims if they’d trade the death penalty for a life sentence. So, we began checking the national data base for unsolved murders with similar M.O.s and a rather large number popped up.”
“How large are you talking about?” Chance asked.
“Seventeen so far over a span of eleven years. Interesting side-note, the first one began in his hometown of San Francisco, two weeks after his mother’s death. We’re still checking details. We may not be able to connect him to all of them, but he’ll most likely wind up doing life here in Louisiana for the crimes.”
Brendan was stunned. He kept thinking of all those nights they’d watched him coming into the bar, completely unaware he was sizing up his next victim.
Carson kept eyeing Brendan closely. “How old are you?”
“Twenty-six. Why?”
Carson shrugged. “Your quick reaction to a dangerous situation was impressive. If you ever get an urge to change occupations, check out the police academy. I think you’d make a good cop.”
Brendan was shocked. Not once in his entire life had anyone even hinted he had a future in anything.
“You know who my father is, right?”
Carson frowned. “One thing has nothing to do with the other. If you decide to follow through, give me a call and I’ll write a letter of recommendation for you.”
“Thank you,” Brendan said, too stunned to elaborate.
Carson shook his hand. “You’re welcome and I’m outta here.”
“One more thing,” Brendan said. “I cannot take all of the credit for the information I gave you. A lot of people helped me, but the turning point was Count LeGrande. He’d already identified the man who came and went as trouble before this ever happened and actually memorized his tag number. He’s the real hero.”
Carson frowned. “Are you talking about the old white guy in the frock coat and top hat who hangs around the Quarter?”
“Yes.”
“Next time I’m down that way, I’ll make a point of thanking him, too. Ya’ll take care.”
Chance eyed Brendan curiously as he closed the door behind the cop.
“So, what do you think about that police academy suggestion?” he asked.
Brendan shrugged. “I don’t know what to think except that I am out of a job, and the women in my life need to get well.”
“Speaking of the women,” Sam said, as Delle and Linny came into the room.
“Linny’s getting hungry,” Delle said.
Chance grinned. “What a coincidence! So am I!”
“That’s exactly why we’re here,” Sam said. “We came to take Mom and Linny out to dinner.”
Linny sidled up to Brendan and leaned against him.
“Bren was taking us to eat at the Crab Shack and have beignets for dessert,” she said.
Sam pretended to be surprised. “That’s exactly what we were gonna do. How about that?”
Linny beamed.
Delle was happiest when she had all of her children together, but she kept watching Brendan’s face. Yes, he’d promised to take them out, but she knew where his heart was today and needed to give him an easy out.
“Brendan, I just told Linny that Juliette got hurt last night and is in the hospital, so if you want to go see her instead of eat with us, we’re fine with that. We’ve had the pleasure of your company every day since we’ve been here, and I think you need a break.”
Sam quickly agreed. “She’s right, Bren. We’ve got this. You stay with Julie as long as you want, and we’ll stay here until you get back. Dad knows we aren’t going to Wisteria Hill today. In fact, he has a little surprise he’s working on for Mama and Linny back at the house.”
“What kind of surprise?” Delle asked.
“He’s remodeling Wisteria Hill. You won’t recognize the place when you go home, Mama. It looks amazing.”
Delle frowned. “You’re kidding.”
“No fooling, Mama,” Chance added. “There’s new tile in the kitchen, air conditioners all over the place. He’s even painting inside and out, and I heard him on the phone the other day asking if the new curtains and drapes were ready.”
Delle put a hand to her heart in disbelief. “Oh my!”
Linny frowned. “Did he do something in my room, too?”
“Painted the walls pink,” Sam said. “New curtains for sure. Not sure about anything else.”
“I love pink,” Linny said, then gave her mama a quick glance to make sure she hadn’t sounded too excited. When it came to things regarding her daddy, she was never sure how to react.
Brendan’s heart sank. The scheming bastard did the one thing that would turn the tide in his favor, and he’d not only known what it was, but followed through.
“I’ll be anxious to see it,” Delle said.
She wouldn’t look at Brendan. This was exactly what he didn’t want, but she knew her place, and it wasn’t mooching off her son’s good graces.
Brendan wouldn’t worry about this now. They weren’t going home yet, and he had to make his peace with his little sister about breaking his promise.
He put a hand on his heart and then bowed from the waist as if he was in the presence of royalty.
“Good Queen Belinda, I pray you will excuse my presence at the dinner table today.”
Linny giggled, then pointed at Brendan as if she was holding a jeweled scepter. “Of course, Sir Brendan. Please give your Juliette our regards.”
Sam tugged her ponytail. “Regards? Regards? Where did
you learn big words like that?”
Linny waved a hand in the air in a gesture of dismissal. “Queen Belinda knows stuff, that’s where. So I am ready to leave anytime you are.”
Delle glanced down at her feet and the sleeveless yellow shift she was wearing. It had an empire waist and a scoop neckline, which was comfortable for a Louisiana summer, but not exactly dress-up clothes. She had no choice as to shoes. It was flip-flops or barefoot. She still couldn’t stand pressure on the healing burns.
“I don’t have another dress to wear that looks any better than this one and these flip-flops are all the shoes I can tolerate.”
Sam grinned. “We’re going to the Crab Shack, Mama, not Delmonico’s. Besides, you’ll still be the prettiest woman in the place, except, of course, for the queen here. Nobody outshines Queen Belinda.”
Linny threw her arms around Brendan’s leg. “I’ll bring you beignets.”
Brendan tweaked her nose. “Thank you, pretty girl.” He gave her ponytail a quick tug.
“We’ll take care of them, Bren,” Chance said. “Tell Julie we’re thinking of her.”
“I will,” he said, then they were gone.
It had been so long since he’d been in the apartment alone that it felt too big and too quiet, but getting to Julie was uppermost in his mind as he headed to the bathroom to finish shaving.
****
Julie was drifting in and out of sleep when she heard a slight tap at the door. Without being able to see, all she could do was call out.
“Hello?”
Jack heard her before he saw her, and then he stopped mid-step, horrified by her appearance.
Julie was beginning to get nervous. “Hello? Hello? Who’s there?”
When he realized his silence was frightening her, he quickly spoke up.
“Hey, sugar, it’s me, Jack. Is it okay if I come in?”
“Jack! Yes, come in!”
He took the hand she held out and lifted it to his lips, struggling with the urge not to weep.
“Julie, honey, I’m so sorry this happened. I feel so guilty that I didn’t know you were being threatened.”
“That’s my fault. I never said anything about it to you because I was never actually threatened. He was just creepy. I had no way of knowing this would happen, either.”
He blinked back tears, doing everything he could to keep from sounding as devastated as he felt. “So, how do you feel, honey?”
Her shoulders slumped. “Pretty much like I look, I think.”
“I’ll be honest. I am guessing you hurt like hell, but at the same time, you also look like this should heal just fine.”
Julie suddenly tightened her grip. “Really?”
He frowned. “Well yes, why would you be so surprised? I wouldn’t lie to you about something like this.”
“My mother mentioned plastic surgeons and—”
“She can use one if she wants, but you aren’t gonna need that,” he muttered. “I had a friend who looked far worse than you do from wrecking on his Harley, and he healed up. He wasn’t wearing a helmet or leather, and after rolling across a good hundred feet of concrete, he looked like he’d been peeled.”
Julie suddenly shivered, imagining what that man must have
suffered.
“Thank you for that, and thank you for coming,” she said.
Jack patted her hand. “You’re welcome, and of course I would come. I wanted to see you before I left town.”
“You’re leaving New Orleans? Is it because of the fight you and Daddy had? What did he do?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Jack said. “The past is the past and I supposed it’s time I retired, anyway. I’m not as young as I used to be.”
“It does matter. You’re like family to me,” Julie said, trying not to cry.
“So, family stays in touch, right? I know how to email. You taught me, remember?”
“I also remember what a cussing fit you had until you figure it out. You’re right. We’ll email, but I’m still so sorry about Daddy.”
Jack was in tears. He could hardly bear to look at her and what she’d endured, and yet she felt the need to apologize for her father’s behavior.
“Nothing matters about this whole fucking mess but that you’re still here with us. Understand?”
Now that sounded like the Jack she knew and loved. “Understood.”
“Good, so be on the lookout for an email from me as soon as I get settled.”
“Where are you going to go?” she asked.
“Inland. Anywhere a hurricane can’t go… maybe Montana or Idaho. I always wanted to be a cowboy.”
She tugged on his hand. “Hey, Jack, I want to tell you something.”
“Yeah?”
“Remember those Karate moves you taught me when I was in high school?”
“Yeah, why?”
“I used them the night I was abducted and almost got away.”
Jack’s vision blurred all over again as he gave her hand a quick squeeze. He had to get out before he lost his composure. “That’s my girl! Good for you, honey! Listen, I’ve been here long enough. You rest, heal, and I’ll be in touch.”
“I will. I love you,” she added.
“I love you, too, kiddo.”
She listened to the sound of his footsteps moving away from the bed and then out of the room. She felt sad, but at the same time accepting. Sooner or later, everything changed.
****
Portia March was nearly finished with her breakfast when her son and daughter-in-law arrived to take her to church. Or so she thought. Instead of apologizing for their early arrival, they informed her of her granddaughter’s kidnapping. Her first comment was that they skip church and go see her. That’s when she learned Julie had barred her parents from her hospital room. After that, she was so furious she could hardly think.
Grayson knew his mother was angry. He knew when her nostrils flared and her chin came up there would be hell to pay, and he was right. The tone of her voice was as cold as the look in her eyes.
“What do you mean, you are not permitted?”
Grayson tried to pass it off as something of no concern. “She got upset with us last night. She’s under serious stress, as you can imagine, and we didn’t handle it well.”
Portia slapped her hands on the table so hard the crystal juice glasses rattled in place. She glared first at Grayson, then at Lana.
“Under stress? She was almost murdered! You are a fool for not recognizing the traumatic circumstances. God gave you one perfect child with a beautiful heart, so whatever has happened has to be your fault, not hers.”
Lana frowned. She was just afraid enough of her mother-in-law not to talk back, but she didn’t like the scolding.
“Well, Mother March, you weren’t there and we were,” she said primly.
Portia ignored her, mostly because she hated being called Mother March. It was a ridiculous title from a prissy-ass female who still acted as if she was in her debutante days, and she focused her attention on her son.
“Grayson, what did you do to cause this mess?”
He met her gaze without wavering. “I did everything wrong and I’m the first to admit it, okay? Chalk it up to panic over finding out Juliette had been kidnapped, and my disapproval of her boyfriend’s family.”
Lana interjected. “I understand Grayson’s disapproval of the boy. I mean, he’s a Poe, and we all know what kind of a man his father is.”
Portia arched an eyebrow. “A man kidnapped her. You don’t like her boyfriend’s family. I fail to see what one has to do with the other. And while you’re discussing lineage, you both might be interested to know that’s exactly what my mother said about Johnson March when we began to keep company. There hadn’t been an honest generation in the March family before him, so none of you should be pointing fingers. The silver spoon Johnson was born with was probably a fake, and the only reason our family has finally garnered respect is because the people who knew the truth are all dead
and long since gone.”
“I said as much to Lana last night,” Grayson said.
Portia frowned. “Then if you are that cognizant of your humble beginnings, how do you justify judging someone else by the accident of their birth?”
“I already said I made a mistake. I already told her I was sorry,” Grayson snapped.
His mother glared. “Then what got you banned from her room?”
Grayson pointed at his wife. “Lana began talking about plastic surgery and needing to fix Julie’s face.”
Lana rolled her eyes. “And Grayson told her it didn’t matter what had happened to her, and that we’d put it all behind us.”
Portia had heard enough. “Oh dear God! Imbeciles! Both of you! Neither of you acknowledged what she endured, then add insult to injury by trying to whitewash it? No wonder she was upset. Grayson, you will take me to the hospital after church. I want to see my girl.”
“But I told you, I’m not allowed in.”
“That does not pertain to me,” Portia said. “You can stand out in the hall for all I care until I’m ready to leave. Is that understood?”
“Yes, ma’am. Oh, and Mother…”
“Yes?”
“Happy birthday.”
She rolled her eyes. “Unbelievable.”
There wasn’t anything happy about this day.
****
Julie began to feel jittery, even panicked, as the morning wore on. Being unable to see left her as helpless as she’d felt tied to Chub Walton’s bed. When she learned the stiff clumps in her hair were dried blood, she’d had a small meltdown. A nurse solved the problem by helping her wash her hair, and Julie cried all the way through the process.
“Am I hurting you, honey?” the nurse asked.
“No, no, I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m crying. Don’t stop. I appreciate this so much.”
“You’re very welcome, but if it does hurt, just say so.”
“I will,” Julie said, trying to gather her senses, but the symbolism of washing away the blood was too strong.
The first physical trace of her assault was going down a hospital drain. If only the rest of the trauma would be that easy to dispel. Once they had finished, the nurse towel-dried and combed her hair, then went to look for a hair dryer.