Read the book: «The Reckoning»
Alex stared at him a moment, then blurted out, “Someone was shooting at us. You got hit by a bullet. Are you even going to mention that?”
Holt frowned. “I wasn’t planning on it. At least not until I have an idea on the matter.”
Alex shook her head. “Well, at least let me dress that wound while you try to formulate a good idea about someone trying to kill us. And make sure you change the dressing twice a day. The last thing you want is an infection.”
“Good advice,” he said and stepped closer to her, knowing what he was about to do was a really bad idea, but unable to come up with one good reason not to.
He pulled her close to him in one sudden motion that made her gasp. Before he could change his mind, he lowered his lips to hers.
Immediately she pushed back and stared at him, her eyes wide. “I think I’ll wait in the truck.”
“It’s not safe out there,” he said.
“It’s safer than being in here.”
About the Author
JANA DELEON grew up among the bayous and small towns of southwest Louisiana. She’s never actually found a dead body or seen a ghost, but she’s still hoping. Jana started writing in 2001 and focuses on murderous plots set deep in the Louisiana bayous. By day, she writes very boring technical manuals for a software company in Dallas. Visit Jana at her website, www.janadeleon.com.
The Reckoning
Jana DeLeon
MILLS & BOON
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To my friend Leslie Langtry.
Together, we will remain sane with our focus on that private island, cabana boys and the invention of calorie-free beer.
Prologue
New Orleans Press, October 31, 1976
Three children are missing in Mystere Parish from the tiny bayou town of Vodoun. All three attended first grade at Vodoun Elementary and had been playing in the backyard of one girl’s home before the mother realized they were gone. A search party of the neighboring swamp has yielded only a hair ribbon and a torn piece from one girl’s dress.
According to the sheriff’s department, the investigation is ongoing, and they are looking into several possibilities. Locals have formed their own search parties to continue sweeping the swamp, and some of them have a different take. Some believe that a voodoo priestess who lives on an island in the swamp kidnapped the girls for sacrifice. The island, which is surrounded by thousands of toy dolls in various states of decay, is the sort of things nightmares are made of.
The sheriff’s department states that deputies have searched the island and are satisfied that the girls were never there, but this is hardly the first unusual story to emerge from the swamps of Mystere Parish. If anyone has information as to the whereabouts of the missing girls, please contact the Sheriff’s department in Vodoun, Louisiana.—Staff Reporter
Chapter One
Psychiatrist Alexandria Bastin clutched the cell phone at her cousin’s words. “Repeat that.” She couldn’t possibly have heard her correctly.
“The witch took her! She took my baby!” Sarah’s wailing pierced Alex’s ear, even through the phone.
“Calm down, Sarah,” Alex said and waved off a nurse who had paused during her rotation to see if Alex needed help. “Take a deep breath and tell me everything.” She hurried down the hall and into her office to escape the normal noises of the busy hospital. “How long has Erika been missing?”
“Since this afternoon. She went down the street to play with her friend.” The hysterical tone in Sarah’s voice continued to rise with each sentence. “She was supposed to be home at three, but she never came. I waited and waited and she never came.”
“What did the friend’s mother say?”
“That Erika left in time to get home. She’s gone, Alex, and no one will believe me. My baby! What happened to my baby?” Sarah began sobbing. “I called and called but you never answered.”
Alex grabbed her purse from her desk drawer and locked her office. “I’m on my way. Sarah, can you hear me?”
The sound of frantic sobbing was all Alex heard as she rushed into the elevator. As soon as the elevator door closed, the call dropped. Alex looked at her display and cursed when she saw the list of missed calls from her cousin. She’d been tied up all afternoon giving a videotaped statement for a commitment hearing and had turned off her phone, but now she wished she hadn’t.
Mentally, she willed the elevator to move faster and as soon as the door opened to the parking garage, she ran to her car, pressing in Sarah’s number as she ran. The busy signal had her cursing again.
She jumped into her car and tore out of the parking lot toward the highway. Even with a fast car and a lead foot, it would take her at least an hour to get to Sarah’s house. She pressed redial, and the busy signal sounded once again. Glancing in her rearview mirror, she merged onto the highway and immediately moved to the fast lane.
Out of options, she dialed 9-1-1.
“This is Dr. Alexandria Bastin. I’m a resident psychiatrist at Memorial Hospital in New Orleans. I have reason to believe that a patient is suffering from a serious mental episode and I cannot get her to answer the phone. I’m on my way, but I need someone to check on Sarah Rhonaldo at 152 Cypress Lane in Vodoun.”
She pressed her foot down harder on the accelerator and prayed that Sarah hadn’t done something foolish. Her cousin had separated from Erika’s father three months before, and it hadn’t been pleasant—especially not for Sarah’s husband, her best friend, or the bed she’d caught them having sex in, as it had met a tragic end, hatchet style.
Alex had managed, with the help of a great attorney, to get the charges reduced to destruction of private property, but Sarah’s Paul Bunyan routine hadn’t scored her any points with the local sheriff. Given that their families had been warring since the dawn of time, the bed-hatchet escapade cemented Sheriff Conroy’s belief that Sarah was worthless trash.
She could only hope Sarah hadn’t done anything to jeopardize her health … or her parole. Alex didn’t even want to think about what might have happened to Erika until she got face-to-face with Sarah and heard the entire story.
ATRUCK DISPLAYING THE sheriff’s logo on the side was in front of Sarah’s house when Alex pulled up just before seven p.m. This can’t be good. She pulled in behind the truck and parked. She’d been hoping for an ambulance, but there was no sign of a paramedic anywhere. Which meant whatever had happened to Sarah, her health was fine, but given that the sheriff was still there, her freedom might be in question.
She grabbed her purse and hurried into the house without bothering to knock. “Sarah,” she called, scanning the rooms as she rushed down the hall.
“Back here,” Sarah answered, her voice weak.
Alex ran the rest of the way down the hall and into the kitchen and ran straight into the last person in the world she expected or wanted to see.
His shoulders were wider, his upper body harder and leaner than she’d ever seen him. And she’d seen every inch. “Holt,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady. “I didn’t know you were back.”
Ten years ago, he’d run away to war—the one place he could be certain his past couldn’t follow him.
His hands were still on her shoulders, and he stood so close she could feel the heat coming off his body. The smell of his aftershave tickled her nose, and instantly she remembered the last time his hands had been on her body. The last time she’d been completely absorbed with Holt—mind, body and soul.
“Been back for a month now,” he said, and looked down at her with those sexy green eyes that had been the cause of many a weak moment on her part.
But no more.
She stepped back so that he was forced to drop his hands, and that was when she noticed the badge on his belt. “You’re working for your uncle?”
“I’m just filling in until I figure out what I want to do next and until his broken leg heals.”
“Is Sarah okay?”
Holt moved to the side and motioned her into the breakfast nook where Sarah sat, staring out the back window. “You tell me.”
Alex walked over to the table and slid onto the chair next to Sarah. Her cousin took one look at her, flung her arms around her neck and began sobbing. “They don’t believe me. My baby’s gone and they don’t believe me.” The volume of her voice increased with every word until she was shouting.
Alex untangled Sarah’s arms from her neck and studied her cousin. Her skin was pale, but normal, given the situation. Her eyes were red from crying, but Alex didn’t see any disconnect from reality in them.
“Who doesn’t believe you?”
Sarah pointed to Holt. “The sheriff’s department. They think I’m crazy.”
A flash of anger washed over Alex like a tidal wave and she turned to face Holt. “A six-year-old is missing from her own neighborhood in broad daylight. Exactly what does it take for the sheriff’s department to become concerned?”
“My uncle said—”
“Your uncle wouldn’t have a nice thing to say about Sarah even if it meant avoiding eternal damnation.” Alex turned her attention back to Sarah. “I need you to take a deep breath and tell me what happened.”
Sarah nodded and took a deep breath, blowing it slowly out. “Right after lunch, Erika went to her friend’s house up the street to play. I stood outside and watched her until she went inside their house. She was supposed to be home by three.”
“But she didn’t come home?”
“No. At three-fifteen, I called her friend’s mother to remind Erika to leave, but the mother said Erika had left at five ‘til, just like she was supposed to.”
“Did the friend’s mother watch her walk home?”
“No. Erika walked with her friend all the way to the house and then her friend crossed the street to go to her music lesson.”
“Did her friend see Erika go in the house?”
Sarah shook her head. “She said when she was closing the door, she saw Erika checking the mail. But when I came outside to look for her, the mail was lying in the street.” Sarah began to cry again. “They think Bobby took her. He’s a lying, worthless, cheating waste-of-a-husband, but he’s a good father. Bobby would never take Erika away from me.”
Alex blew out a breath, trying to make sense of everything Sarah had said. Her cousin’s story didn’t fill in all the gaps and she had a feeling those gaps were important. Unfortunately, the one person who could give her the answers she needed was the last person she wanted to talk to.
She opened her purse and took out a prescription for antianxiety medication that she’d filled for Sarah the day before. Ever since Sarah’s split from Bobby, she’d had trouble sleeping and concentrating. The meds took the edge off and allowed her to act normal even though she didn’t feel normal. “I want you to take this,” she said, and placed a pill in Sarah’s hand. “I need to know everything you can think of. In order to be helpful, you need to be refreshed and calm. While the medicine is doing its job, I want you to take a hot shower.”
Sarah opened her mouth to protest, but Alex held up a hand to stop her. “I’m saying this as your doctor. No arguments.”
Sarah looked at Alex, her expression wavering between wanting to comply and wanting to argue, then she glanced over at Holt and sighed. “Fine.”
Alex rose from the table and pushed a glass of water closer to Sarah. Sarah placed the pill in her mouth and took a big drink, her hand shaking a bit as she lowered the glass back to the table. Her cousin rose from the table and hugged Alex.
“I feel better already because you’re here,” Sarah said. “You’re the smartest person I know. You’ll find Erika.” Sarah broke off the hug and trudged down the hall toward her bedroom.
Alex stared after her, trying to keep her own heart from breaking over the situation. She and Sarah had been born only a month apart and were more like sisters than cousins. She and Erika were the only family Alex had left since her own parents had died in a car wreck twelve years before. The day Erika was born, Alex had been almost as proud as Sarah, and to think of that little girl, taken from her home, was beyond upsetting. But one of them had to remain calm and collected, and that role almost always fell to Alex.
She looked over at Holt, who was leaning against the kitchen counter. “I need you to tell me exactly what is going on. No speculation or your uncle’s gossip. Cold, hard facts are all I’m interested in.”
Holt smiled. “Cold was never in your vocabulary when I knew you. Hard … well, that’s a whole other story.”
Alex felt a flush rise up her neck. “And one that will not be remembered or relived now or at any other time. A little girl is missing. Her mother is frantic. Surely, you can tell me something.”
Holt’s expression changed from teasing to serious.
“Sarah called the sheriff’s office this afternoon in a panic. I came out here to see what was up, then followed up on the leads. What she told you is correct. I talked to the friend’s mother and she verified the story. I checked with the other neighbors, but no one saw Erika.”
“Then why haven’t you formed a search party? Do I have to remind you that not a hundred yards from the backyard of this house is the swamp?”
“It rained the past couple of days. I walked a two-mile stretch of the tree line and never saw a single footprint. So unless Erika walked beyond that before entering the swamp, that’s not where she is.”
Alex nodded, not wanting to admit that so far, everything Holt said made sense. “And this theory about Bobby taking Erika?”
“Pretty much everyone knows about the split between Bobby and Sarah and what caused it, so the sheriff thought I better check with Bobby before sending out an alert and panicking the town.” He looked down the hallway for a second then back at Alex. “Is she all right … mentally, I mean?”
“She was angry over Bobby’s cheating, and rightly so, and she’s clearly upset now and perhaps in a bit of shock. But given the circumstances, I don’t see anything wrong with her reactions.”
“So she’s sane?”
Alex bristled. “I can’t discuss a client’s medical condition with you. I’ve already said more than I should have.”
“So even if there was something wrong, you wouldn’t tell me?”
“Couldn’t tell you. There’s a big difference. But as nothing is wrong, aside from the obvious, this is a pointless discussion. What happened when you talked to Bobby?”
“Nothing. His fourplex unit was stripped clean and so were his bank accounts.”
Alex stared, completely taken aback with what Holt had said. “His employer?”
“He gave notice two weeks ago and had already worked his last day. Said he’d gotten a better job in New Orleans.”
“And that … that woman?”
Holt grimaced. “Oh, she had plenty to say about Bobby, especially as the affair ended her marriage, too. Apparently, middle-aged, unemployed, uneducated women who sleep with their best friend’s husbands aren’t exactly desired by employers or anyone else.”
“My heart bleeds for her. So did she know where Bobby moved?”
“Yeah, see, that’s where it gets interesting. She says he was going back home to Brazil.”
Alex froze. “Permanently?”
Holt shrugged. “The New Orleans police haven’t turned up a new residence or employer so far.”
“You think he stole his child and fled to Brazil? Erika didn’t even have a passport.”
“Yes, she did. He filed for one a couple months ago.”
Alex took a couple of seconds to digest that. “Did Sarah know?”
“Yeah. She said he was planning to take Erika to visit his family in Brazil during summer vacation.”
“Sarah knows how to contact his relatives. What do they say?”
“Naturally, they all claim ignorance on the subject.”
Alex’s mind swam with all the implications of Holt’s theory, but no matter how much sense it made on the surface, it didn’t add up for Alex, either. “You’ve checked the airports.”
“Of course, and if we’d found anything, this would already be over.”
“So that means he didn’t take her out of the country.”
“No. It just means he didn’t fly. Given that he took all his belongings, it’s more logical that he’s driving.”
“So you’re going to do nothing?”
“I’ve notified Louisiana and Texas law enforcement that Erika was missing and sent them photos of her and Bobby and all the information on Bobby’s car. I contacted several news agencies here and in Texas, and they’ve agreed to show a picture and ask viewers to call a hotline if they’ve seen either of them.” Holt sighed. “What else would you like me to do?”
“Nothing,” Alex said. “You’re right. There’s nothing left to do but wait and pray.”
Holt nodded. “Then I’ll get going and let you take care of Sarah. If you need anything, call dispatch, and they’ll get in touch with me.”
Alex followed him down the hall to the front door. He stepped outside, then turned back to face her. “I’m really sorry about all of this,” he said. “I know my uncle and Sarah have their issues, but I promise you my uncle’s beliefs do not interfere with my investigation. I’m doing everything I can to find Erika.”
Alex nodded and he turned and walked to his truck. She watched as he drove down the block in the vanishing sunlight. She didn’t doubt Holt was doing everything he could. He wasn’t the kind of man who took failure lightly—she knew that better than anyone. But Holt didn’t know what she did—that Sarah was telling the truth.
There was no way Bobby would have taken Erika away from Sarah. She was as certain of that as she was of anything. And since it was unlikely Erika had gotten lost in the swamp, Alex knew something very bad had happened to the child.
It was up to her to find out what.
Chapter Two
Holt Chamberlain pulled away from Sarah’s house, a million thoughts running through his head. All but one had to do with Alexandria Bastin. He’d known Alex was on her way to Vodoun when he went to Sarah’s house, and he thought he’d mentally prepared himself for seeing her again. Now that he had, he realized how egotistical he’d been to think he was prepared.
Like holding up a trash can lid to stave off a tidal wave.
Ten years hadn’t taken a single thing away from her. Her face was more mature than the college girl he’d left behind, but still as beautiful as he remembered. Her thick blond hair, a gift from her German mother, had been pulled up on top of her head, but he had no doubt that when released, it would fall in thick waves down her shoulders. And even in her official hospital business suit, he could see her body wasn’t missing a trick. She was walking sexy and still as sharp as they came.
He’d been prepared for his body to react, for his heart to tug a bit when he laid eyes on his first love. But what he’d experienced was a total annihilation of senses. There was no preparation for that, short of death.
All that running and he’d landed back in Vodoun right smack in the middle of the same turmoil he’d been in when he’d made the decision to leave. Time and distance hadn’t changed anything except allowing him to temporarily forget.
And all of that took a backseat to the one thing that had nothing to do with his past with Alex—Sarah’s missing daughter. He couldn’t argue with the logic. Everything he’d found backed up his uncle’s idea that Bobby had kidnapped his daughter and fled to Brazil, but something didn’t feel right to Holt.
Things in Mystere Parish never did.
Something about the stretch of dense swamp that comprised most of the parish was unlike anywhere he’d ever been before, and he’d seen plenty of conflicted places during his military service. Not that Mystere was conflicted. In fact, it appeared to be comprised of small, peaceful towns filled with down-to-earth, law-abiding people. But under that surface of pleasant normalcy, Mystere hid secrets. Some of those secrets eventually rose to the surface.
It was the ones that hadn’t yet that concerned Holt.
Hoping his uncle was right for a change, Holt decided to take another look at Bobby and directed his truck toward the fourplex where Bobby had lived. Bobby taking Erica was the simple answer—the good answer. Holt didn’t want to think about the options until he’d eliminated the most obvious and the safest for the child.
The deputy had taken statements from the people occupying the two front units this afternoon, but the woman who lived directly across from Bobby in the other rear unit hadn’t been home. Maybe she was available now and could fill in some of the gaps.
He was about to pull up in back of the fourplex when his cell phone rang. He checked the display and frowned. His uncle.
Holt’s grandfather had married Lorraine after the death of his first wife, Holt’s paternal grandmother. After several miscarriages, Jasper Conroy had been a surprise baby for Lorraine. He was only two years older than Holt, but he wore the “Uncle” title as proudly as he did his sheriff’s badge. The man’s body might be restricted to bed rest, but it hadn’t stopped his mouth from traveling far and often.
“Uncle Conroy, what can I do for you?”
“Why aren’t you back at the sheriff’s office?”
“I’ve been looking into the Rhonaldo case.”
“There is no Rhonaldo case. Bobby Rhonaldo took that kid from that screaming shrew of a wife and skipped the country. Since we don’t have the time, the manpower or the jurisdiction to chase him to South America, I expect you to be back in the office in ten minutes.”
“To do what, exactly?”
“Whatever I say you need to do. Don’t get belligerent with me, boy. I’m still in charge.”
Holt struggled to control his tongue. His mother had asked this favor of him so that Jasper could continue to draw his salary and not worry about someone poaching his job. Holt figured it was a heck of a lot of aggravation to take for a favor, but he supposed it was a nice thing to do.
Thanks to the business acumen of his late and mostly absentee father, Holt had enough money to last a lifetime, so working for free didn’t bother him at all. But a little consideration wouldn’t be out of line, since Jasper was the only one benefiting from Holt’s time.
“I figured I needed to be thorough on this one, given your history with Sarah,” Holt said. “I wouldn’t want anyone to find a gap in my investigation and use that against you in the next election. If this ends badly, the last thing you need is people saying that if you’d done your job, you could have prevented the death of a six-year-old girl.”
There was dead silence for several seconds and Holt knew his uncle recognized the legitimacy of his words and at the same time was mentally cursing nine ways to Sunday that he had to spend even a moment of time on Sarah Rhonaldo. His mother’s complete and utter disdain for Sarah went far deeper than a long-standing family feud, but Holt had never been able to determine the real cause of the animosity. It was the best-kept secret in Vodoun.
For that matter, it was probably the only secret in Vodoun.
“Fine, then,” Jasper said finally. “Get it over with as fast as possible and put everything you find in the file.”
“And if I find anything that indicates something could have happened to Erika besides Bobby taking her?”
“That’s not going to happen.”
The sound of Jasper slamming the phone down echoed in his ear as he parked. The blinds were open on the unit across from Bobby’s and he could see someone moving around inside. He climbed out of the truck and made his way up the sidewalk, pleased that the neighbor was home and he could finalize this angle of questioning.
The woman who opened the door was young, probably midtwenties, wearing workout clothes and didn’t look overly happy that he’d interrupted her routine. He flashed his badge, and her demeanor immediately shifted as she waved him inside.
“Has something happened to my family?” the woman asked, clearly nervous. “Just tell me and get it over with.”
Holt realized his faux pas and moved to correct it. “I’m sorry to frighten you, Miss, but I’m here to ask you some questions about your neighbor, Bobby Rhonaldo.”
Her shoulders relaxed and she blew out a breath. “Thank God. My parents insisted on retiring in an RV and gallivanting across the country. I remain in a constant state of worry.”
“Understandable.”
She pulled a bottle of water out of the refrigerator and offered it to him. He shook his head so she twisted the top off the bottle and slid onto a stool at the kitchen counter. “You said you’re here about Bobby?”
“Yes. Did you know him?”
“Not well. I’m a nurse at the clinic and I usually work the night shift, so I’m not awake during normal hours. I introduced myself when he moved in, and I’ve said hello a couple of times when I was coming home from shift and he was leaving for work. That’s about it.”
Holt nodded. “Were you at home when he moved?”
She frowned. “Yeah. That was weird. My shift started at midnight and when I walked out, two guys were loading Bobby’s bed and clothes in a moving truck. I asked about Bobby, but they said he was busy and they’d been paid to move his stuff. They had a key, so I went on to work.”
“You said it was weird, though. Why?”
She flipped the cap over between her fingers for a couple of seconds, then blew out a breath. “This is going to sound stupid, but something didn’t feel right. I mean, they had a key, and I guess if midnight is when you have time to do something, then that’s when you do it. But they … unnerved me, I guess is the best way to put it.
“Look,” she continued, “I’m no wilting daisy. I’ve been living on my own since I was seventeen. Worked my way through college as a nurse’s assistant on the nightshift at a hospital in New Orleans. I’ve seen plenty that would scare the life out of normal people, so for something to bother me is weird.”
“Would you recognize them if you saw them again?”
“I think so.”
“Thanks,” Holt said and handed the woman a card. “If you think of anything else or happen to see the men anywhere, call dispatch and tell them to get in touch with me immediately.”
The woman placed the card on the counter and walked him to the door. “Hey,” she said, as he was about to walk away. “One of the guys had a tattoo on the back of his right hand.”
He stiffened. “Could you tell what it was?”
“It was kinda dark on the sidewalk, but it looked like an eye.”
Holt nodded and walked to his truck, hoping his concern at the woman’s description hadn’t shown on his face. He didn’t think the woman was in any danger and didn’t want her to worry. But Holt had seen that tattoo before.
On the man who’d murdered his father.
The free excerpt has ended.
