Not Quite Right (A Lowcountry Mystery) (Lowcountry Mysteries Book 6)

by Lyla Payne

The thought of my cousin brings everything roaring back, and I sit up so fast, my heart racing, that I get dizzy. My fingers clutch at the grass, dirt jamming under my nails, until my vision clears.

  Amelia is next to me, sitting up and shaking her head as though she’s having a similar experience. Aunt Karen is splayed on her back in the grass, snoring and shivering with a thick puddle of drool pooling on one side of her mouth.

  “Are you okay?” I ask my cousin, then gasp when her eyes find mine.

  She goes completely white and sways.

  “Your eyes,” we say at exactly the same time, then gape at each other.

  Amelia’s eyes, previously the same emerald green as Anne Bonny’s, have changed. They’re the color of sea glass now, a light, foggy green.

  The eyes. They came straight from Anne Bonny. And now they’re gone.

  Could it truly have worked?

  “What happened?” she asks, then notices her mother. “Mom?”

  “She’s okay. We’re all okay, I think.” I shake my head, dislodging the last of the cobwebs. “You don’t remember anything?”

  “No. And I’m freezing, and so is my mom. Where’s the car?”

  I make my way to my shaking legs. “Close. See if you can wake her up.”

  Aunt Karen groans at our talking. “Can you girls be quiet? And turn up the damn heat.”

  A giggle escapes my lips, manic and crazed. “Aunt Karen, wake up. We’re not at your house.”

  She peels her eyes open, one hand on her forehead as though she’s got a splitting headache. I have one, too, but it’s more annoying than painful. My whole body feels lighter somehow, and Amelia’s smile is brighter than the sun peeking through the giant cypress trees.

  “What in tarnation… Oh my god.” She groans, and I know she remembers. My aunt struggles into a sitting position, one eye closed as she squints at us. “Dear God, Amelia. What happened to your eyes?”

  “I think it worked. The ceremony.” I can’t help but be the slightest bit miffed that the Gullah folks left us out here to freeze to death sleeping in the grass, but the smoke winding off the fire suggests we’d probably been toasty until it started to die. “Your eyes are different, too.”

  “I guess I’ll have to make up some ridiculous story about contact lenses or cataracts at the Junior League,” she grumbles, pulling herself to her feet. I help Amelia up, still hiccupping laughter. Amelia catches it, and I know we’re tired and dazed but it’s also Aunt Karen worrying about how she’s going to explain things to the Junior League instead of dwelling on how we suddenly have new eyes to begin with.

  “Graciela, would you please stop hooting like a loon and get me back home? My head is throbbing, and Walter will be expecting his breakfast.”

  “Sure.” I snort, then dissolve into more laughter. Amelia clutches onto me, and I lean into her as we weave through the tall grasses and back to the lane.

  By the time we’re in the car, heater blasting, the mirth has worn off, replaced by wonder and a little worry. Our eyes changed, sure, but how can we know if the curse is really gone?

  Aunt Karen is silent in the backseat as we drive, and I fill Amelia in, thrilled that she’s actually listening this time.

  “You don’t remember anything about being kidnapped?”

  My cousin frowns. “I remember everything, but like…it was like I wasn’t really there. Or something? I don’t know. Like I’d been body-snatched.”

  After the way Dr. Rue explained the curse, like a blackness in our blood, I wonder if it had started to take over Amelia, but keep my mouth shut. If it’s over now. There’s no need to go into it.

  “Poor Mrs. Walters.” Amelia sighs, looking out the window. “But man, she wasn’t a very nice captor.”

  “Did you expect her to be? Hell, if she were thirty years younger she’d probably have run off to join the Taliban just so she’d be able to torture people.”

  “That’s a terrible thing to say, Grace,” Millie admonishes me.

  I feel the slightest bit guilty but no more than that. If she’d still been alive, I wouldn’t have felt bad at all. People sure do get a lot of breaks being dead. I only hope she stays that way and doesn’t take to spying on me as a ghost.

  We drop off Aunt Karen, who I know is out of sorts when she doesn’t offer us breakfast. Instead of heading straight back to Heron Creek I park down by City Market and pop open the car door, even though going back out into the chilly morning isn’t appealing.

  “Where are we going?” Millie asks. “To get breakfast?”

  “Ha! You’re almost back to normal already. No.” I rethink my answer when my stomach grumbles. “Well, we can get breakfast, too, but I want to see if Odette’s around.”

  If she’s not, maybe one of the other Gullah women can confirm if our curse is gone.

  We stride past the shops, most of them still closed, looking for the groups of women and their piles of sweetgrass, ready to spend another day turning an ancient tradition into a living.

  “Did ya bring me sum breakfas’?”

  Odette spots us before we see her, sitting on the curb between two of the still-unopened Market buildings. A jumble of joy unleashes in my chest at the sight of her upright, her eyes clear and bright.

  “Odette! You’re okay!”

  She nods. “I’s feelin’ better, then las’ night, all sudden-like, fever went away. Figur’d on gettin’ out and back ta work, yanno?”

  I resist the urge to hug her because I’m not sure how she would respond. “I’m glad to hear it.”

  “So, about breakfas’…?”

  A grin stretches across my face. I should be tired, but I’ve got so much adrenaline I may never sleep again. Odette hasn’t mentioned our eyes, but she’s not the sort to give up information of any kind without being asked. I put a hand on one hip and level her with a serious look. “We’ll buy you breakfast, Odette. After you tell us if our curse is gone.”

  She peers at us long and hard, but the sparkle in her eye gives her away long before she opens her mostly toothless mouth to give us a grin of her own. And the good news. “It gone. Ya done it, girls. Ya did good.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  It’s hard to believe I’m back at work at the library as though my whole life hasn’t changed for the better inside of a week, but I suppose one still has to earn a living. At least, that’s what Aunt Karen told us when she informed me and Amelia that we would be responsible for paying our own utilities, starting in the new year. She hasn’t once mentioned what happened out at the Burleigh property. I’m not surprised. Amelia and I haven’t talked about it much, either.

  We slept for two days straight after we got back and woke up to find all of our friends in the living room eating pizza and watching football as if they’d been invited. Everyone has been briefed, some with more ability to buy into the whole explanation than others, and since then, life in Heron Creek…it’s been almost normal.

  Amelia is covering the front desk and humming to herself—I heard her talking to Brick on the phone not ten minutes ago, on my way to the bathroom—so I let the Archive Room cut me off from the real work. I’ve been playing with my next journal submission, which is an article on the life of Henry Woodward.

  There’s surprisingly little information about him that can be verified. All I have so far is what amounts to a bunch of rumors, and if he never comes back from wherever he’s gone, I doubt I’ll be able to come up with more. If he does return, I’ll ask him if he can point me toward anyone or anything that can corroborate the rather amazing tale of his life.

  I think about going back to Charleston and asking Brian, Tour Guide and Wannabe Murderer Extraordinaire, where he got all of his information but decide against it, at least for now. He does owe me a favor, after lighting my cousin’s car on fire with me in it and all, but I can’t decide if getting tangled up in more trouble is worth it. At least not at the moment, when life is sailing along so smoothly.

  The introduction is almost finished,
at least, and I don’t need primary sources for that. My neck and back are stiff from huddling over the laptop for a couple of hours, and I lean back, thinking to pop it, and my chair goes straight over backward at the sight of Henry hovering over my shoulder.

  I yelp when I hit the floor, but Henry doesn’t even notice. He’s staring at my computer screen with an expression on his face that’s completely new—he’s animated and excited, and points a finger at the screen while he looks down at me sprawled on the floor.

  There’s a question in his eyes, one that seems to ask if I’m really writing a paper about him. I nod, wrenching myself free of the chair’s grasp and rolling to my feet in the most graceless exit ever. The side of my arm hurts, and I can tell there’s going to be a bruise where it got trapped under the chair.

  “Yes, I’m writing about you,” I grumble. “What? That makes you happy?”

  He nods, his head bobbing up and down like one of those dolls they give away at sporting events, and understanding finally, finally dawns. “You want people to remember you,” I guess, knowing already that I’m right.

  Henry doesn’t respond because Amelia bursts into the room at the same moment, her eyes wild as they search the corners. She shakes her head at the sight of the toppled chair, my disheveled ponytail, and the way I’m holding my arm.

  “What happened?”

  “Henry scared me.” I reach down and set the chair right side up, then close my laptop, figuring I’ve had enough for the day.

  “He’s back?”

  “Apparently. I wish he would consent to wearing a bell.”

  “I wonder how long it’s going to be before I hear a loud noise and don’t assume you’ve died.”

  “In all fairness, you’re the one who has done more of the scaring and almost dying.”

  She sighs. “I know. Maybe that’s my problem.”

  My senses shift into high gear. “Is everything okay? Are you okay? Do you need to move up your appointment with Dr. Farmer?”

  “No, no. I’m just… I guess I’m just having a hard time believing it’s really over. All of it, you know?”

  “I know. Me too. I keep expecting bad things to jump out of the shadows, but it really is over. Jack’s going to live a long life and probably give you a full head of gray hair.”

  “I’ll still be hot,” she says with a scoff.

  “That’s true.”

  “Oh, I almost forgot. Will’s here to see you.”

  I furrow my brow. “He is? What does he want?”

  She shrugs. “He says it’s no big deal, but something he thinks you should know.”

  “That’s intriguing.”

  I follow my cousin through the stacks and back to the front desk where Will’s waiting for us. He’s in uniform and looking damn good, his hat between his hands because a good Southern gentleman wouldn’t dream of wearing it indoors.

  “Hey.” He shakes his head at the two of us. “I can’t get over the eyes. It’s weird.”

  “Whatever. We’re still gorgeous.” Amelia grins, pecking him on the cheek. “Don’t you dare argue, William Gayle.”

  He holds up his hands with a smile, the look on his face as he takes in Amelia one that says he’s as happy to have her back to normal as I am. Almost. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

  “What’s up?” I ask, not wanting to take up more of his day than necessary.

  “Well, it’s kind of an odd thing. I guess I’m the new detective in town, at least until the council hires someone new.”

  The news startles me, mostly because it makes no sense. “What about Travis?”

  “Up and quit this morning. Left a letter of resignation, said he wasn’t fit for the job.”

  It’s because of what I told Clete. I don’t know it, but I know it, and guilt churns up a green cloud of nausea in my gut. “Did he say why?”

  “Nope, just that.”

  “Is he still in town?”

  “Yeah, but I hear he’s trying to get out of his lease.” He peers at me with renewed interest. “Why do you look like your dog ran away? I thought you’d be sort of happy to get rid of him, to be honest. With all of the dust he’s been kicking up about your family.”

  I shrug. “I don’t know. I guess I feel sort of responsible.”

  “Why would you feel responsible?”

  Amelia’s stare feels accusatory on the side of my face, and Will’s starting to look like he’s going to be disappointed in me, too.

  I heave a sigh. “Clete’s been on my back about the whole get-dirt-on-Travis thing, so after he mentioned running into trouble back in Arkansas after a kidnapping case, I passed it along. But I’m sure that doesn’t have anything to do with him quitting.” I say the last part to make myself feel better, not because I actually believe it.

  Will gives me an exasperated look. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

  I throw up my hands. “I know, okay! I was in the middle of everything with Mama Lottie and Amelia, and Clete kept popping up with his vague threats, spitting tobacco all over the bushes, and I don’t know. It just slipped out.”

  “Poor Dylan,” Amelia laments, easing into the chair behind the computer. “You know we’re going to have to help him.”

  Will and I groan at the same time. I think because we both know she’s right.

  “So, you feel badly for potentially helping Clete run Travis out of town, even though you promised weeks ago that you’d help Clete find a way to run Travis out of town?” Leo says, his long legs keeping easy pace with mine as we jog along the path by the river.

  “Pretty much. Ugh.” I slow to a trot, my muscles done and my body refusing to push past the pain today. Some days are good, others not so much, when it comes to getting back into running shape. “Can we rest?”

  Leo obliges me with only a slightly impatient face, and after a few yards, we ease into a walk. When the benches on the riverfront loom, I snatch the opportunity to sit down but he doesn’t, stretching as he paces in front of me.

  “Sorry. My body isn’t having it today.” I’m about to start my period and everything is pissing me off, but Leo probably doesn’t need those kind of details. “Oh, and I forgot to tell you that Amelia is insisting we host Thanksgiving at our house and you’re invited. So are Lindsay and Marcella, of course.”

  “Thanksgiving sounds great. Lindsay can’t cook for shit, and maybe your grams passed down her Dixie Pie recipe?” He gives me a hopeful smile. “And it’s fine that we’re stopping. We got in two miles.”

  “Heron Creek only gives us four without leaving the town limits, so I guess that’s not terrible.”

  He acknowledges my jab with a smile, then drops onto the bench next to me. His musky, sweaty man scent mingles with my own body odor, but it doesn’t bother me. Leo’s the last person on earth who could or would make me feel uncomfortable about stinking after a run. We sit in silence for a while, watching the river roll past and the sun sink toward the horizon. We hadn’t planned on getting together, but after Will stopped by, I couldn’t find a way to dispel the nervous energy in my blood.

  Amelia’s words kept ringing in my ears. Poor Dylan.

  Despite the fact that he’s wrong about being my brother, the whole thing has made me feel something for him. I’m not sure what, or how, but we are connected through my mother. Maybe I should have watched out for him. I definitely should have played what he told me closer to the vest.

  It hurts me in unexpected ways to think of him at his house all alone, feeling betrayed. He must know that I’m the one who told Clete to look into that kidnapping victim in his old precinct. It’s not like he would have said something to anyone else in town, and the fact that Clete confronted him about it a day or so after he said something to me, well…he can’t have any doubt.

  If he came here looking for real family, thinking I was his sister and Amelia was his cousin, this has to have hurt him. No matter what he is to me, or what he wanted to be, I’ve got a pit of black shame in my gut over disappointing him s
o completely.

  “You’re going to try to help Travis, aren’t you.” Leo speaks in a conversational tone, and it’s not a question.

  A sigh winds out of me, and it sounds like acceptance. “I don’t know that there’s anything I can do, but I always planned to look further into his past, for my own curiosity. I don’t see why I would change my mind now.”

  “Things squared away with Clete?”

  “I guess he probably thinks we’re even, despite the fact that he never did a single thing for me. It would be nice to leave him be in his mountains for all eternity.”

  “I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that I have no desire to go out there ever again.”

  “Not unless you take to wearing Depends,” I quip, then giggle at the irritation on Leo’s face. “Sorry. It’s true.”

  “Did you ever stop to think that the fact he doesn’t make you crap your pants means something is wrong with you? I’m the normal one here.”

  I lean over and wrap my arm around Leo’s shoulder, despite the fact that lifting it lets loose a cloud of stench. “Oh, Leo. You’ve always been the normal one. I wouldn’t want to steal your thing.”

  He stiffens under my touch, then shifts slightly so his chin rests on top of my head. A strange vibe passes between us as he hovers there, and I get the strangest sense that he might kiss my sticky hair.

  He doesn’t, of course, just pulls away a moment later with a twist of emotion on his face that’s impossible to pin down. “What’s going on with you and the mayor? Everything back to normal?”

  “Well, I think we’ve established that nothing I do is normal, but we’re… I don’t know.”

  Leo waits, patient as always, and I know I’m going to confide in him in a way I don’t with anyone else. Mel and Amelia love Beau, they think he’s great for me—and they’re not wrong—but that means they don’t hear much of anything else even when I find the courage to say it.

  “Don’t know what?” Leo asks, his blue eyes steady on my face.

  “I don’t know how we can make this work.” I shrug. “It’s like we got past this major hump, and with the curse on his family not a factor anymore, he’s ready to try to put it all behind us because what we have is so good.”