Her feet were swollen and painful by the time she popped out onto a dirt road. Conscious of her nakedness, she stayed close to the cane, ready to dart back in if she heard the Vespa. She wondered what to do if a car came along. Would they stop for a naked girl? What if she was raped and murdered? Forcing negative thoughts out, she walked down the road until she saw a house. And, thank you God, a line filled with clothes drying in the afternoon breeze.
April crossed the road, ran to the clothesline, and picked off the first thing she found — a sack dress that was too large but served the purpose. She had just pulled it over her head when someone yelled, “Put your hands up, girl.”
A middle-aged woman stood on the porch, aiming a double-barreled shotgun at April. She had seconds to come up with a story, one that didn’t involve Julien Girard, because there was no telling who the woman was.
She raised her hands and said, “I’m in trouble. I need help.”
“That’s a fact, ’cause you stole my dress. I saw you run across the road. What the hell you doing out here bare-ass nekkid?”
April said she’d escaped a kidnapper who took her clothes and would kill her if he found her.
“You came out of the cane field over yonder. That there’s the old Girard place.”
Yes! Yes, Julien Girard’s place! Still afraid, she didn’t say his name. She begged to use the woman’s phone.
She lowered the shotgun and said, “We ain’t got a phone.”
“Where’s the nearest town?”
“Lockport’s five miles away.”
“Can you take me there? I need to call someone to come get me.”
“Ain’t got a car. My husband’s in town. He’ll be back soon, and if he decides to, he’ll take you there. Meanwhile, you come up here and sit on the porch. Don’t run off with my dress, you hear? I’d hate to put a hole in it.”
The woman’s words were mostly bluster, and by the time an ancient pickup pulled into the yard, April had finished a glass of sweet tea. A man wearing dirty overalls got out and came to the porch.
These were people who lived off the soil — cane farmers, most likely — good people, but wary of strangers. He listened to her story and agreed to take her to Lockport, but only to the police station. And only if she agreed to return the dress once she got her own clothes back.
He let April out in front of the police station and drove away. When he was out of sight, she walked to a 7-Eleven next door. She cajoled the counter man into allowing her to use his phone, and she caught Landry just as he was leaving Channel Nine for the evening. She told him her predicament, said it terrified her that Julien might come around, and asked for help. She said the police station was next door, but what if they knew Julien and someone called him?
It surprised Landry that he’d taken her somewhere near Lockport, his boyhood hometown. He agreed she shouldn’t trust anyone, and she had to stay out of sight. Since she had no phone or money, they couldn’t communicate further. He told her to find a good hiding place nearby. He would come as quickly as possible and meet her in front of the police station.
Still barefoot and bleeding, April walked across the street into a small park that ran alongside Bayou Lafourche. On a playground she found a plastic treehouse, climbed the small ladder, and crawled inside to wait. She heard a scooter approaching and ducked down, praying it wasn’t him. It passed her by, and she looked to see a teenager without a helmet, not her abductor.
Landry called Detective Young, told him where his kidnap victim was, and asked for help. Twenty-five minutes later the whomp-whomp of rotor blades resounded over Main Street in Lockport, and an NOPD helicopter set down in a vacant lot near the police station.
Landry and Cate stood outside as Young told the local cops he was picking up a lost girl. They came out to watch as the girl emerged from the park, ran to Cate, hugged her and cried, “Thank God. Thank God you’re both here.”
Half a mile down the highway, a man on a Vespa scooter watched April, Landry, Cate and Detective Young get into the police chopper, rise into the sky and fly away. He might have lost his prey, but she knew nothing that would hurt him. Her escape only made things more interesting, Julien decided as he started the scooter and drove away.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
The chopper flew them to state police headquarters in Baton Rouge, where a medic treated April’s swollen feet and a female officer took Cate to Walmart to buy sweats and house slippers for the girl.
They told April what had happened since her abduction. Landry described his, Phil’s and Cate’s kidnappings and escapes, about finding Noah, and that Julien’s mother, Agnes Trimble, murdered Michael. “Julien’s a killer too,” Landry said, “and I think they’re behind a lot of what has happened at Proctor Hall.”
April said, “Some of it, but not all. The supernatural entities are everywhere, as you know. Friendly ones and evil ones — you both saw them just like I did. Julien and his mother are a big part of things, but a lot of what happens there is not their doing. There are spirits in that house who want to kill Julien and Agnes.”
Lieutenant Kanter ushered them into a conference room. Because the kidnapping happened in Orleans Parish, Shane Young was present too. Cate sat next to April and held her hand. The interview began.
She told them how to find the house where she stole the dress, and how she’d walked naked through a field to get there. She talked about Agnes, who Julien said would kill without compunction. At first she thought Julien might be Noah’s brother. But when she asked, he responded as if the Proctors were scum.
Landry said, “He’s Ben and Agnes Trimble’s son. I don’t have to tell you how demented he is. He even killed his stepmother, Mary Girard.”
“You’re really the one Julien’s after,” April said to Landry, telling him about the plan to swap her for him. “He says he wants to show you everything about Proctor Hall.”
“I hope we can make that happen sometime soon,” he replied.
April said Julien intended all along for them to get the Proctor Hall assignment for the class project. It was a total setup, a clever game to find out how close they could come to learning the secrets without uncovering them. He claimed it was a great day when Landry, Cate and Henri got involved.
When she revealed Julien’s comment about Andy being dead soon, Landry asked if anyone had heard anything. With so much happening, he hadn’t checked on the missing boy.
After the interview, Kanter called Baton Rouge police. He learned the parents had posted a twenty-five-thousand-dollar reward for information, but as of yet they had no word about their son.
The police helicopter took them back to New Orleans. On the way, Cate asked April if she was going back to her parents in Natchez.
“They want me to, but I have to stay here one more week until the semester is over. I can get an extension on exams, but I can’t afford to lose this entire term. School’s hard enough for me as it is.”
Then came the question of where she’d go tonight. April couldn’t return to her dorm room. If Julien was still after her, campus would be the first place he’d look. Instead, Landry and Cate took her to their apartment. The extra bedroom had harbored a person in trouble once before, and they were happy to do it again.
April asked a friend at the dorm to pack some of her things for Cate to pick up later. When the friend asked where April was, she refused to answer because he was still on the loose. Meanwhile, Cate called campus police and arranged for an officer to accompany April when she was at school.
Landry was angry at himself for missing something so basic in his investigation. He had found Joseph and Mary Girard’s house in Lockport by searching parish land records. If he’d spent the extra five minutes to search for other records in their names, he’d have found another property — a hundred acres a few miles west of town where the cabin sat.
Lafourche Parish deputies located the cabin by helicopter and tore it apart looking for evidence. Everything was just as April had describe
d it, even the pile of her discarded clothes she’d left on the porch. The cops also found tire tracks from a scooter and pieces of the plastic ties Julien had used to bind her wrists and ankles.
They located the house where April stole the dress. The people said years ago the Girards and many others in the area leased their land to the Lafourche Sugar Cooperative. It wasn’t profitable to farm a hundred acres, but when the co-op put thousands of acres together, it worked for everybody.
A block away from April’s Tulane dormitory, Julien sat on a motorcycle as Cate emerged with a suitcase. He’d been there most of the day, waiting for one of them to fetch her things, and at last it paid off. The tinted glass on his helmet hid his face as Cate got into the Jeep. He eased the old cycle into traffic behind her and followed at a safe distance.
Campus was the last place anyone would expect to find Julien. Every cop in south Louisiana was looking for him and his Vespa scooter, which sat at the bottom of the bayou like the Corolla.
Some guy in Terrebonne Parish had had the cycle in his yard with a for sale sign on it. He promised it ran great, and Julien paid cash, providing a fake name and address to transfer the title. Proof of ownership was the least of his concerns; getting a new ride would keep the cops off his trail.
He followed Cate downtown and into the French Quarter, pulling to the curb as she went into a parking garage. She carried the suitcase to a building on St. Philip, unlocked the door and went inside. He waited on the street, and a few minutes later Cate and April, each with a longneck beer, stepped out onto a third-floor balcony. He ducked into a shadow as Landry joined them. As he pointed out something on the Mississippi River two blocks away, he looked down St. Philip right past where Julien stood, but he didn’t notice a man lurking in a doorway.
Oh, this is excellent! I have all of them in one place.
Julien maintained his post until the apartment went dark around ten. Now he knew where they were, but that could change at any moment. He left to get some much-needed rest, hoping they would be there when he returned.
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
Before dawn the next morning, Julien was back in a doorway down the block.
The tall doors were open onto the balcony, but the room was dark. As the sun rose, he got curious stares from people who wondered why a man with no ride was wearing a helmet.
“I’ a little hot in there?” a teenager smirked, and Julien gave it no thought until a cop walking across the street slowed to look him over. He realized the helmet had the opposite effect from what he intended. While hiding his face, it was also drawing too much attention to him.
He chose an inopportune moment to remove it. Before he could step into a dark recess, Landry appeared in the upstairs window. For a long moment they stared at each other until Landry darted back inside.
Julien sprinted to the corner and made the turn just as Landry hit the sidewalk. Cate was upstairs calling 911, and when Landry didn’t see Julien, he incorrectly assumed he’d headed to Bourbon Street to get lost in the crowd. The police were at the apartment when Landry returned, but Julien was already on the interstate and far from the French Quarter.
After they dropped April on campus, Landry and Cate met Henri on the patio outside his office. It was a beautiful morning, less muggy than usual and in the mid-eighties, and were it not for the knowledge that things were far from over, it would have been a perfect day.
Landry said, “Somehow Julien has learned where April is. I saw him across the street this morning, looking up at my apartment. She can’t hide forever, but to capture Julien and Agnes, we have to lure them out of hiding. There’s only one place to make that happen. I want to conduct another seance at Proctor Hall, and I’ll be the bait. Julien said he didn’t need April if he had me. Let’s give him what he wants.”
Henri smiled and said, “Did you intend to ask my opinion about something? So far, all I heard is a statement about what you intend to do.”
“He does that a lot,” Cate quipped. “Sometimes you just want affirmation, right, darling?” She patted him on the arm as he pulled away in mock anger.
“Okay, if you guys are so smart, come up with something better to flush them out.”
“It’s a brilliant idea, but risky,” Henri began. “I agree with you that’s the best place to capture both, but I’m concerned about your safety. If policemen surround the house, your prey won’t come out. If you have no protection, they have the element of surprise, and therefore the upper hand.”
Cate said, “If the house has hidden places where they can observe what’s happening, then you can’t involve either of your cop friends. Julien knows both Harry Kanter and Shane Young. If he spotted them, he would stay out of sight, and your plan wouldn’t work.”
“How about we don’t involve the authorities? We can all carry weapons — Phil and the camera crew, me, you and Henri…”
Henri threw up his hands. “Don’t be silly. I’m no gunslinger. I’ve never held a weapon, I don’t know how to use one, nor do I intend to learn.”
Cate said, “You’re asking me to use a gun? If Agnes and Julien sneak up on us, what do I do — say ‘hands up’? Your idea about a seance may work, but you need to figure out the security aspect, because what you’re suggesting is crazy. You’re expecting a bunch of amateurs to do the job of the police.”
Everyone tossed out ideas and suggestions, and soon Landry left to go to Channel Nine. There was a lot of work to do. Now that they’d accepted his plan, he had little time to execute it. Julien wasn’t going away, and Landry had to stop him before he got to April.
Proctor Hall was unoccupied, at least by the living. Noah hadn’t been there since the day Cate and Landry took him to New Orleans. She’d called her father with a plan. As a psychiatrist, he agreed that Noah needed a good life instead of a lockup, and he was glad to help.
Doc hired a pilot friend with a Cessna four-seater to fly them to Galveston, and he took over from there. He’d administer psychiatrist evaluations, find a comfortable place for short-term care, and develop a plan for Noah’s future.
Back at Proctor Hall once more, the group assembled in the living room for a final seance. Phil had four cameramen, although he didn’t expect great footage from two who had no training in photojournalism.
It had been Phil’s idea to use cops posing as camera guys. Landry wanted to use state policemen, which meant notifying the sheriff, who wanted his own men. Landry argued that Lafourche was a small parish where everyone knew each other, and Julien might recognize the officers. That made sense to the sheriff, and tonight the state cops with cameras looked like bodybuilders with their Kevlar and guns under street clothes.
A psychic and medium named Madame Blue sat at a table in the center of the room. Henri had hired her, assuring Landry she was a clairvoyant with a good reputation in the paranormal community.
Henri and Landry would sit in chairs and run the planchette on the Ouija board. Against Landry’s better judgment, Cate, Doc and Jack watched from the back. The more who were there, the more safety concerns he had, but they insisted.
April, Marisol and a security guard sat with Landry’s director and station manager, Ted Carpenter, in a dark room at Channel Nine’s French Quarter studio. They would watch a real-time camera feed from Proctor Hall on a giant wall-mounted screen.
Madame Blue had a few instructions. She asked the group to remain quiet and said only she would communicate with the spirits. Landry was curious about her style, as compared to April’s quiet and subdued manner. Soon he’d find out just how different tonight would be.
At eight o’clock the medium lit three candles on the table and asked Landry and Henri to put their fingers on the pointer. She started to speak, paused and exclaimed, “The spiritual energy in this room is overpowering! Do you feel it?”
Landry did. A tingling sensation ran from his fingers up his arms, but before he could respond, she screamed, “Justice! Peace at last! That’s what you want, isn’t it? We can help you. Plea
se let us in.” Her eyes closed, her head dropped to her chest, and she mumbled in whispers.
In seconds the planchette raced around the board. Henri couldn’t keep his fingers on the pointer and concentrate on the letters at the same time. He asked Cate to call out the letters, which were coming at an astounding rate. The pointer zipped around as if it had a mind of its own.
D-I-E-H-E-R-E-E-V-E-R-Y-O-N-E
DIE HERE EVERYONE
As Cate said the words, the psychic’s eyes flew open. She raised her hands over the Ouija board and said, “Spirit, reveal thyself. Show us who you are!”
“Holy crap,” one of the real cameramen said as a shape appeared beside the mantel — a phantom that appeared as a wispy film of blackness. “See its head?” Landry whispered. “That shows us it’s not one of the Proctors.”
The Proctor Hall Horror Page 16