Darkwater Truth

by Robin Caroll

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  "CAROLL HAS COMBINED MURDER AND SUSPENSE WITH VIVID DESCRIPTIONS AND EXCELLENT CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT."

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  "THIS FAST-PACED FAITH-BASED THRILLER COMES WITH UNIQUE ELEMENTS NOT NORMALLY COVERED BY CHRISTIAN FICTION....CAROLL'S NOVEL WILL GO DOWN EASY FOR FANS OF ROMANTIC SUSPENSE."

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  "CAROLL'S LATEST TALE FOR ROMANTIC SUSPENSE FANS, ESPECIALLY THOSE WHO LIKE A BIT OF WESTERN FLAVOR AND LORE MIXED IN WITH THEIR THRILLS."

  LIBRARY JOURNAL

  Darkwater Truth

  Robin Caroll

  In honor of Rebecca Gayle

  because your Mémé loves you so much

  and I love her and your mommy, Lilo!

  Copyright © 2019 by Robin Miller

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the author at: www.robincaroll.com

  Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

  Scripture quotations or paraphrases are taken from the following versions: the Holy Bible, New International Version®. NIV®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984 by International Bible Society. Used by permission of Zondervan Publishing House. All rights reserved

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  1924

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  1925

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  1931

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  1933

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  1935

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  1936

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  1938

  Chapter 17

  1938

  Chapter 18

  December 25, 1938

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Dear Reader

  Acknowledgments

  Also by Robin Caroll

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  About the Author

  Prologue

  — 1918

  “I’m sorry, but I can’t keep you.” The young woman kissed the baby’s head, tears obstructing her view. “I’m only eighteen. I have my whole life ahead of me.”

  The seven-month-old boy flashed a grin, revealing two bottom teeth just barely visible above the gums. He kicked his little sockless feet, rocking the pram in his enthusiasm.

  She handed him a rattle, guilt nearly strangling her, but she had to do what was best for him. Sure, she loved him and wanted to keep him, but she couldn’t. She had no means of supporting him and what kind of life could she offer him? Her family didn’t have money or social status. If she brought home another mouth to feed, there would be no telling what her father would do.

  He gurgled and put the rattle in his mouth. Teething.

  She ran a finger along the soft curve of his face. He was such a good baby. Rarely cried, only when he was hungry or needed a diaper change. Smiled all the time.

  His eyes grew heavy. It was his bedtime. The August sun had set over New Orleans, leaving only remnant trails of orange blazing in the darkening sky.

  Her stomach flipped. She’d take him when he fell asleep. She wanted these last few minutes with him. Lifting him from the pram, she hugged him close. Inhaled the sweet, intoxicating perfume that was universal to babies. His warmth infused her as his little fist wound her hair in his grasp. He cooed and kicked, delighted to be held and snuggled.

  She’d been his main source of love and attention. She knew that. He knew that, even at his tender age. It didn’t make sense how much she loved him. He’d given her an amount of joy she’d never known possible. She wondered if she’d ever feel this type of love again.

  Tears burned her eyes again, and she eased him back into the pram, careful to remove her hair from his grip. He grinned and gurgled up at her, kicking, rocking himself. He blinked again, those eyelids of his so very heavy.

  She used a handkerchief to dab her eyes, then her entire face. This was the best thing. Best for her, but definitely best for him. At least this way, he’d stand a chance of being adopted by a family who could provide for him. They wouldn’t ever be able to love him as much as she did—never—but they would love him because he was so loveable.

  His eyes closed for longer and longer before they fluttered open. It was time to go. She’d made her decision and she needed to stick to it. She’d told no one—hadn’t had time—but knew this was the right thing to do.

  The only thing she could do.

  Pushing the pram, she made her way down Magazine Street in New Orleans. The gaslights on the street lit her way, but she paid no attention as she strode toward her destination. St. Vincent’s Infant Asylum was run by Daughters of Charity order of nuns, and they took in babies without question. It was reported that the nuns were patient and loving to all the infants in their care. That’s what she wanted for him: patience and love.

  The nuns would adore him. How could they not?

  She stopped outside the three-story red brick building. The white wrought iron decorative element seemed too much…too ornate.

  The baby whimpered in his sleep, as if he knew subconsciously what was about to happen to him.

  Her hands shook as she pulled the letter she’d written out of her pocket. She opened the paper, rereading her words once again by the light from the lamp set high on the opening post of the wrought iron fence that surrounded the building.

  She’d written about his birth. It was hard to accept that he’d be born out of wedlock, born of original sin. He, himself, was so good. A happy baby. Robust. Cheerful. He brought her such joy.

  She continued reading her letter that explained the weeks and months following his birth. How he’d grown to be a delight, despite his rough beginning and his station in life. Her handwriting faltered a little as she explained the recent tragedy that had forced her to place him in the care of the nuns. How she couldn’t watch out for him, despite her love for him. She’d written the details of his birth and his family as best as she could. It was her prayer that the nuns would be able to place him in a loving family, perhaps with siblings to grow up with.

  That’s what she liked to fantasize about—that he would be immediately adopted by a family with a couple of other young children, a big house, lots of laughter, and maybe even a dog. She’d always wanted a dog herself, but they’d never been able to afford one.

  He stirred again and she knew she had to move now. If she didn’t, things would only get more complicated and harder if he woke.

  She pushed the pram up to the stairs. Leaning over, she gave him a final kiss on the tip of his nose. �
��I love you,” she whispered through her tears.

  She placed the letter at his feet in the pram and slowly looked up at the entranceway. Dare she knock to make sure he wasn’t left outside alone too long? What if someone saw her and asked questions? She didn’t want to have to answer questions, certainly not if the police wanted to talk to her.

  Was this how Moses’s mother felt?

  Suddenly the door opened.

  She dove into the clump of hedges on the outside of the wrought iron fence.

  A nun in full habit stepped onto the concrete porch. “What is this?” She descended the stairs and touched the pram’s handle. “Oh, my.” She took the letter, read it, then slipped it into her pocket. She gently lifted the sleeping baby and held him against her.

  “Come along, little William. You’re safe now.”

  1

  — Adelaide

  “Those are definitely human bones.”

  Adelaide Fountaine tuned out the construction crew’s voices. She stared at the bones settled on rubble behind a partially demolished brick wall. The skeleton was on its side, a human skull very visible and very recognizable. Shivers scurried up her spine. It could be worse—they could have found a body instead of skeletal remains.

  “We were knocking out the wall, and only made the first swing when the wall crumbled and we saw that.” The worker waved his arm around. “Look at that—the real exterior wall is two feet behind this one. Someone put this faux wall up, but they didn’t do a very good job.”

  Addy looked incredulously at the original solid brick wall and then at the fake wall she never noticed in her four years being general manager of this hotel.

  “I came and got you immediately, just like we’re supposed to do. No one touched anything else as soon as we saw it.” The construction foreman nodded as he spoke.

  “Yes. You did the right thing.” Addy pulled out her phone. The crew had done what they were supposed to do, now she had to do the same. Sometimes, having her dream job wasn’t all she’d imagined.

  Addy loved the Darkwater Inn, and even though several of the original structures had survived the ravages of time and devastating Louisiana hurricanes, such as Isle Dernière in 1856, Audrey in 1957, Camille in 1969, and Katrina in 2005, it was time for an upgrade. The owner’s son, Dimitri, gave her the green light to remodel the Darkwater Inn as she saw fit. After recently spending many months in Europe studying five-star hotels, she was excited about updating the interior while maintaining the architectural integrity of the building. The architect had completed the remodel design just two weeks ago, and construction had begun on Monday—it was only Thursday.

  “Hey, Addy.” Detective Beauregard Savoie’s deep baritone, so familiar and so welcoming, made her smile. Just hearing his voice soothed her frazzled nerves. “How’re you this morning?”

  The softness of his tone reminded her of his attentiveness on their date last weekend. She let the warmth wash over her as she turned away from the construction crew and their grisly discovery.

  “Truth be told, I’m a little freaked. Beau, I need to report something. About the hotel.”

  “Go ahead.” His voice registered that he’d flipped the switch and moved fully into New Orleans’ detective mode.

  It’d be nice if officially reporting an incident at the Darkwater Inn were a rare thing. Over the last year, however, that certainly hadn’t been the case.

  “Remember I told you we’re having some renovations done here at the hotel?”

  “Yes, I remember.”

  “The crew was taking down one of the interior walls in the back wing closest to the courtyard and they’ve…well…” She cleared her throat. “They’ve found a human skeleton.”

  She could hear his quick intake over the connection. “Are you sure the bones are human?” She looked over her shoulder at the bones. “I’m pretty positive. The skull I’m staring at is definitely human.” She shuddered and looked away. It might be dry bones and not decomposing flesh, but it still creeped her out. She not only worked here every day, but she called the Darkwater Inn her home as well, living in an apartment upstairs. To think that there’d been a body in the walls for—goodness knew how long…

  “Clear the area immediately, and get everyone else out of there, too. Assign one of your hotel’s security guards to secure the area and don’t let anyone in. We’ll be there soon.”

  She nodded, even though he couldn’t see her. “Thanks, Beau.” She disconnected the call, squared her shoulders and addressed the construction foreman. “The police are on their way. We need to clear the area.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He turned to the crew. “Come on, y’all heard the lady. Grab your gear and let’s go.”

  “Is that a hatchet next to the skeleton?” one of the workers asked as he gathered tools.

  “More like an axe. Looks like there’s dried blood or something on it, too,” another worker replied as he wound an extension cord and hung it over his shoulder.

  Addy shuddered as she waited for the men. Blood, axes…maybe she shouldn’t be so surprised. After all, the Darkwater Inn boasted a history almost as old and rich as the Crescent City itself, dating back to the 1840s. To have withstood such a test of time, the old girl had to have her secrets, like the hidden passageways and tunnels of the hotel. But those were mysterious and charming, unlike a skeleton with an axe.

  “Can’t help but wonder if there are more skeletons,” a worker mused.

  “If you have everything, we need to clear the area.” Addy didn’t want to think about there being more than one skeleton in the hotel’s walls. One was quite enough, thank you very much. She ushered the men from the construction area, made sure the yellow CAUTION - KEEP OUT tape still securely blocked access to the area, then headed across the lobby to the hotel’s security office. Opening the door sent a brush of cool air against her face. Even though it was barely March, they always kept the security office cool because of all the electronic and surveillance equipment.

  “Good morning, Addy.” Geoff Aubois, chief of security, turned and smiled at her from his leather chair. The large African American man was an intimidating powerhouse, but he was highly sensitive and intuitive as well. Addy trusted him completely.

  She rubbed her forehead. “Hey, Geoff. We have a problem.”

  His wide smile slid off his face and he leaned forward, dark eyes focused. “What?”

  Addy quickly brought Geoff up-to-date. “If you’ll go make sure no one enters that hall until Beau gets here…”

  He was already on his feet. “Of course.” He turned to Sully Clements, the security officer with the most seniority. “You can reach me by radio if you need me.”

  Geoff walked Addy out of the security office, and gently touched her shoulder. “Are you okay?”

  She nodded. “Sadly, yes. It should affect me more, I know, but after the past year or so…”

  “I know what you mean.”

  And he did. He had just returned to work at the Darkwater after having served a year’s sentence in prison for killing the man who’d raped his little sister—and Addy—when they were both in college. It left Geoff and Addy with scars from the past but also a deep kinship of understanding.

  Geoff turned toward the hall where the renovations were taking place. “Want me to let you know when Beau gets here?”

  She nodded. “I’m going to find Dimitri and we’ll meet you there as soon as we can.”

  With a nod, Geoff rushed off toward the locked-off hall. Addy sighed and headed toward the kitchen and Dimitri.

  Addy drew in a deep breath as she slipped around wait staff and into the depths of the kitchen. Brunch service was in full swing, one of the biggest meals in New Orleans. Not an early breakfast, since the all-night parties filling the French Quarter and surrounding areas kept people out until the wee hours of the morning. The crowds usually surfaced around ten or so, hitting the hotel’s brunch hours. Of course, Dimitri’s pain perdu, also referred to as French toast, was famous in t
he District, and many travel food sites had posted raving reviews, so the hotel’s restaurant was always crowded at this time.

  “Hello, Ms. Fountaine.” Yvette, Dimitri’s sous chef, smiled at her. Her curly black hair was pulled up under a chef’s hat, and her expressive brown eyes sparkled. She set two plates on the steel-plated counter and rang the bell, her ebony skin glistening. “Are you hungry? Can I fix you a plate?”

  Addy shook her head. While she adored Dimitri’s concoction, knowing there were skeletal remains in the walls of the hotel had stolen her appetite. “Thank you, but no. Is Dimitri around? I need to speak to him.”

  Yvette’s smile widened, indicating the relationship status of Addy and Dimitri wasn’t as much of a secret as Addy would like. “He had a meeting this morning. He told me he should be back before the lunch service.” She cocked her head to the side. “Can I help you with something?”

  Forcing a smile, Addy shook her head again. “Could you tell Dimitri to come see me as soon as he returns, please?”

  Yvette nodded. “Yes, ma’am, I sure will.” She winked.

  Not in the mood to explain why she was casually dating two different men, Addy mumbled a thanks, then headed back to the main lobby to wait for Beau. He’d be discreet, of course, but as general manager, she should be there to meet him.