by Robin Caroll
Luc pressed his lips together and his eyes widened. He gave a slow nod.
“So, if someone tried to blackmail both him and Beau, it stands to reason Justin would want the house to get those pictures.”
“But,” Luc shook his head, “now that Grandfather’s dead, Uncle Justin could care less about his past coming out in the open. There’d be no point in blackmailing him anymore. So why is he still bound and determined to evict you?”
And therein his statement laid the flaw in her scenario. “I don’t know.” She chewed her bottom lip.
“What’s going through that beautiful head of yours?”
“The teenager who does yard work for us found one of the coins. Grandmere told him he could keep it. He said his father’s boss bought it for twenty bucks and offered to buy any more he found.”
Luc narrowed his eyes. “When did you find this out?”
“At the funeral. The young man I was talking to just before you saw Dwayne.”
He pressed his lips together and then shook his head. “I can’t place the kid.” He let out a puff of air. “Who does his father work for?”
“His father’s never been in his life before, as far as I know. He lives with his grandmother. Maybe the father just got back in town or something. I don’t know, but I intend to find out. Soon.”
“How does this figure with Justin still planning on evicting you?”
“What if he knows about those coins in my house? And that’s why he wants possession of it.”
“I don’t know. I’ll try to find out.” He squeezed her hand tighter. “We’ll figure it out. Something’s gotta give.”
“I hope so. The sooner the better.”
The waitress delivered their plates of étouffée. The enticing aroma of crawfish and cayenne wafted to CoCo’s senses, and she discovered she did have an appetite after all. The waitress refilled their glasses with sweet tea, then left them alone. Luc said grace over their food and then they began to eat.
The night air crackled with heat from the squelching Louisiana temperatures—or the emotional bond between them. Luc couldn’t tell. He did know one thing for sure— he wanted to spend the rest of his earthly life with CoCo LeBlanc. Now that he knew she was a Christian, well, there wasn’t really anything keeping them apart. Except that she didn’t trust him anymore. He had only himself to blame for that. He should have had more faith that God would call CoCo to Him.
In his mind’s eye, he could already see their wedding. Their home together. Their children. It was enough to make him push down the lump in his chest. He would work on winning his way back into CoCo’s heart.
He opened the SUV door for CoCo, and she slipped inside. His heart ached as he rounded the vehicle and got behind the wheel. Not much longer, and he could concentrate on their relationship. On them. “Do you mind if I just drop you off at your house?”
“O-okay.” Her eyes went wide and surprise teased the irises.
He laughed. “A lot of what you supposed tonight made sense. I’d like to talk to Uncle Justin, ask him about the picture and hear what he says. Also, see if I can find out if he knows about the coins.”
“And you can’t do that with me there?”
He didn’t want to hurt her. “I just think Uncle Justin will feel more comfortable if I go alone.”
“I understand.” She worried her bottom lip.
“I’ll call you and let you know what I uncover.” He grabbed her hand and brought her fingers to his lips. He planted a light kiss against the tips.
She jerked her hand back to her lap and sat in stony silence.
After pulling into her driveway, he shifted to look at her. “I’ll call you.”
She smiled and jumped out of the vehicle. He watched her climb the stairs and open the screen door. She tossed him a wave before ducking inside.
He let out a long breath. Backing up, Luc turned around and drove in the direction of his uncle’s house—where, hopefully, he’d get some answers.
“CoCo, is that you?” Tara bellowed from upstairs.
No, it’s the Ghost of Christmas Past. Who else would be coming into the house? “Yeah, it’s me.”
“You missed Alyssa’s call.” Tara hovered at the top of the stairs, her menacing glare caught by the overhead light. “She was ticked.”
“Hmm, I imagine.” Ticked was probably a mild word to describe Alyssa’s reaction to her not being home.
Tara took the steps two at a time. “I think she’s overexaggerating like she normally does, but she’s threatening to come down next weekend.”
CoCo refused to voice the groan caught on her tongue. She set her purse on the buffet and faced her sister. “Where’s Grandmere?”
“She went to bed early. Seemed upset.” Tara narrowed her eyes at CoCo. “You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”
“She found out something about Grandpere last night that upset her, but she seemed fine this morning.”
“What’d you say, CoCo?” Tara popped her hands on her slim hips, one of which she cocked out.
“I didn’t say anything. I just showed her a picture and something he’d written I’d found in the attic. In Grandpere’s things.”
“What kind of picture? I didn’t know we had anything up there except for Mom and Dad’s stuff.”
Just hearing their names scraped against CoCo’s heart. She licked her lips. “There’re two trunks that were Grandpere’s. Photo albums and such.”
“Grandmere has all the photos down here.” Tara waved her hand toward the bookshelves lining the living room. Several scrapbooks and photo albums lined the bottom shelves, and framed photos cluttered every free space.
“No, these are ones that were private to Grandpere. Grandmere didn’t even know about them—only that the trunks were there.”
“About what? Just tell me, yes?”
“Grandpere and Luc’s great-uncle were in the Klan together.”
Tara gasped. “No way!”
“It’s true. We found a picture.”
“I want to see.” Tara’s bottom lip protruded.
CoCo weighed her decision. If she refused, Tara would simply explore the attic as soon as she was alone. “Come on. I need to see if there’s anything else up there of any importance.” She and Luc had cut their search short before going through both of the trunks completely.
Tara smiled, eagerness and curiosity battling in her eyes.
Up the folding stairs they trekked, dust stirring as they moved. Tara sneezed, but shrugged off CoCo’s God bless you. At least the window remained open so some fresh air drifted in. CoCo made her way to the trunk Luc had been going through. “Here’s what we didn’t finish looking through.”
Together they knelt and began pulling items from the trunk. A bundle of letters tied with an old piece of twine fell apart as soon as Tara touched it. She looked at CoCo. “I didn’t break it.”
CoCo smiled. “I know you didn’t. It’s so old it’s disintegrating.” She peered at the top envelope. “Can you make out what they are?”
“Let me see.”
While Tara gently tugged yellowed paper out, CoCo turned her attention back to the trunk. She pulled out a cigar box. She lifted the lid and smelled the distinct aroma of Cuban cigars, the kind Grandpere had smoked for as long as she could remember. Her lips curled into a smile at the memory. Peering inside, she found buttons and….
Two Confederate coins.
She lifted them, held them in her hand. They felt just like all the others. Grandpere had known the coins were here. Her heart faltered. And they were connected to the Klan, just as the legend had said. She pushed them aside and lifted a photo that was turned facedown.
Tara glanced over, tears streaking her face.
“What is it?” CoCo set the box on the floor.
“There are love letters between Mom and Dad.” She shook her head, then wiped her nose on her sleeve. “They were really and truly in love with each other.”
CoCo hugged her
sister. “I know,” she whispered. She gave Tara a final squeeze and backed away.
Tara sniffled and wiped her nose on her sleeve. “I want to finish reading them.”
“Okay. I want to read them when you’re done.” She went back to the cigar box sitting on the dust-covered floor and lifted the photo again. In the dim light, she couldn’t make out the photograph’s subject. CoCo held the photo up close to the single lightbulb.
Her heart stalled. Bumps pimpled her arms. The hairs on the back of her neck stood tall and erect.
“Oh, no,” she whispered.
She glanced over to her sister, totally emerged in love letters from the past. CoCo swallowed and stared at the picture again.
Lord, please don’t let this be what I think it is.
Grandpere and Justin Trahan stood together again. This time they’d lost the robes and hats. This time they held guns. And a man had been hanged in a tree between them. On the back in her grandfather’s handwriting were the words: The man Justin and I killed.
TWENTY
The phone’s shrill sound jerked CoCo’s attention from the photo. She rushed down the stairs, the photo tight in her hand, hoping the call didn’t disturb Grandmere.
“Hello.” She panted, struggling to even her breathing.
“CoCo? It’s Dwayne Williams. Is it too late to call?”
She glanced at the clock over the mantle—8:10. “No, not at all.”
“Is this a bad time? You sound out of breath.”
“I was in the attic.”
“Oh. I got your message on my answering service and wanted to call you back. Has something else happened?”
Yeah, she could say that. “Actually, yes. At the reading of Beau Trahan’s will today, Justin was left the deed to my property.”
“Any chance he’ll drop the eviction case?”
She snorted. “Not hardly.”
“We’ll just proceed as planned then. I’ll go to the courthouse Monday and file another motion.”
“Dwayne, there’s something else I need to tell you.”
“Yes?” His voice remained even, but she detected the hesitation in the single word.
“We found a letter in Beau’s things. A letter threatening to expose Justin as a member of the KKK, to ruin Beau’s reputation.” She hesitated for but a moment before rambling on. “You said you were researching Beau before you took my case. Did you ever find any hint of Justin’s KKK involvement?” Because if it was widely known information, the list of murder suspects had just grown.
“Probably just a threat. Did you turn the letter over to the sheriff?”
“Yes, but it’s not just a threat. Luc and I found a picture of Justin and my grandfather, in full KKK robes.” And a picture of them with a hanged man, with a written confession by Grandpere, but she didn’t want to say anything about that just yet. Not until she’d had a chance to talk with Luc. “Did you know about the KKK involvement?”
A long pause thundered over the connection.
“Dwayne? Are you still there?”
“I’m here.” The sigh he emitted nearly cracked CoCo’s eardrums. “The sheriff will follow the leads on that. It’s late and I need to go. I’ll file the motion Monday morning.” He disconnected the call before she could say goodbye.
A nagging sensation struck her—he never answered her question.
She glanced down at the photo still gripped in her hand and her heart took a tumble. It wasn’t just a suspicion of blackmail that lay hidden in her house. Now there was motive for murder.
Plopping down on the worn couch, CoCo thought it through again. Supposing the person who knew about the coins also knew about Grandpere’s and Justin’s involvement in the Klan and used that information to blackmail Beau. Why would that person kill him? It didn’t make sense.
“CoCo?” Tara rounded the corner, her eyes red and puffy.
“Did you find something else?” She sat upright, tension drawing every muscle taut, and shoved the picture in her pocket.
Tara dropped the stack of letters onto the coffee table and sat beside CoCo on the couch. “No, just the letters.” She dabbed at her eyes. “They loved each other so much. Why’d they have to be killed?”
The question she’d asked God many times over in the last two years. CoCo caught her bottom lip between her teeth.
Lord, help me out here. I need the words to give testimony to You.
“Boo, I can’t know the whys. No one can. We just have to trust there is a reason. Even if we never understand it this side of heaven, we have to accept it.”
Her sister’s eyes went cold. “Your god let them die. How can you sit there and defend him? Talk about trusting and accepting. That’s wrong.”
Fire sizzled in her spine. “It’s better than believing they did something so wrong that the spirits retaliated against them.”
Tara gasped. Her eyes bugged. “I—I—I can’t believe you’d say that.”
“Isn’t that what Grandmere’s traditions teach? That untimely deaths are a result of the person’s bad karma and the spirits intervening?”
“Th-that’s not true.”
“Isn’t it?” CoCo jumped to her feet and shot up an eyebrow. “I was trained much longer than you, remember? That’s what the traditional teachings of voodoo state.”
Tara stood, her body trembling. CoCo could see the raw fury in her baby sister’s face matching her stance. “Mom and Dad did nothing to deserve dying so young.”
“That’s right, they didn’t.” CoCo crossed her arms over her chest. “And maybe that’s what helped me see that Grandmere’s traditions are wrong.”
“It’s okay to believe your god allowed this to happen to them?”
“Knowing that they’re in the loving arms of Jesus is what I believe.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Yes, Tara, I do. Wait here, and I’ll prove it to you.” CoCo marched up the stairs to her bedroom. She grabbed the Amplified Bible from her nightstand and rushed down the stairs. Just holding the patented leather grain against her chest soothed her anger. She handed the Bible to her sister. “Open it and read the first page.”
With a sigh Tara sat up and did as she was told. Her eyes grew wider as she looked from the page to CoCo. “This was Mom’s?”
“Yes. There are notes and passages underlined and highlighted all through it. Notes of her and Dad praying certain Scriptures over us as babies. They were practicing Christians, Tara.” She sat beside her sister. “So I do know they’re in heaven now.”
Tara flipped through the Bible. The fluttering of pages filled CoCo’s spirit with a deep sense of calm, of peace. She laid her hand on Tara’s forearm. “You can take it to your room and read it if you’d like.”
For a moment, she feared her sister would toss the Bible on the couch and storm out. But she didn’t. Instead, she closed the Bible gently and grabbed the love letters from the coffee table. She clutched them to her chest. “I’ll give it back to you tomorrow, yes?”
She helped Tara to her feet. “That’s fine.” She planted a kiss on her sister’s temple. “Good night, Boo. I love you.”
Tara nodded and headed toward her room. CoCo watched her climb the stairs.
Thank You, God, for at least opening her mind enough to consider the truth. Lead me to continue witnessing so that glory may be brought to Your name.
It was a good night for getting answers. For getting the truth.
Luc parked in his uncle’s driveway and stared up at the stars. Despite the recent storms, the temperatures had been reaching into the high nineties, even breaking a hundred a time or two this past week. Not a cloud blocked the view of the moon beaming down over Lagniappe.
He directed his attention on his uncle’s house. A single light shone through the living room window. With a sigh, Luc got out and ambled up the stairs. “Uncle Justin, it’s Luc.” He didn’t want to be met at the door with a shotgun this time.
No footsteps dragged against the floor. No televis
ion sounded from inside. Luc rapped the door with his knuckles. “Uncle Justin?”
Nary a sound. He waited, listening for any signs of movement from inside the house. Nothing. So much for getting answers tonight. Uncle Justin may have gone down to the tavern.
Luc got back into the vehicle, but didn’t turn over the engine. He should go home, check on his mother and Felicia. Something deep inside him churned. He needed an emotional release, too. Grabbing his cell phone, he then flipped it open and pressed the speed-dial number he’d assigned to CoCo.
“Hello.” She answered on the first ring. Just the sound of her voice caused his heart to stutter.
“Hi, there.”
“Luc! Are you finished talking to Justin already?”
“He isn’t home.”
“Oh. I finished going through the trunks in the attic.” Her voice hitched.
He was almost afraid to ask. “Did you find anything else?”
“Luc, can you come over?”
She must have found something serious. Now he was scared. “I’m on my way.”
He closed the phone and turned over the ignition. She’d discovered something that had distressed her. What could be worse than finding a picture of their grandfathers in KKK robes?
Worry pushed his foot harder on the accelerator as he drove to her house. He paid no heed to the fleeting countryside or the cars he passed. His sole focus was on CoCo and whatever more she’d found.
A siren blasted into his thoughts. A quick glance in the rearview mirror and he saw the flashing blue lights. He dropped his gaze to his speedometer and sighed. Sixty-five in a forty-five. Now he’d get a ticket on top of everything else. Just what he didn’t need. Not today.
Luc slowed down and veered to the edge of the road, careful to avoid the dramatic drop. They didn’t have shoulders this far south, but there wasn’t much traffic anyway. He moved the gearshift into Park, then rolled down his window. Even after nine o’clock, the heat still rushed in.
“Where’s the fire?” Sheriff Bubba Theriot bent to stare into his face.
“Sorry, Bubba. I wasn’t paying attention to my speed.” He glanced at his old friend and gave a shaky smile. “I’ve been a bit distracted today.”
