"And how does that lead to my father?"
He ceased his vigorous scrubbing and met her eyes. "That's what I'm trying to clear up, cher. Up there"—he gestured toward the mountain—"up there, I just as much heard your father confess he was responsible for people's deaths. He sounded . . . deranged. I thought my theory that Jed had been snuffed by a crime ring was wrong. That your father . . . that in his madness he was making sacrifices to this demon he talks about."
"Le fantome noir," Liz said in a bitter tone.
Zach nodded. "But what doesn't add up is the money. He remodeled the cabin, installed plumbing, brought in electricity. That's a new boat and motor out there, and then there's my old house he owns and doesn't even live in. Port Chatre's no prime real estate spot, but it still takes some bucks to do all that."
She stared at him with an expression of outraged amazement. "And that's why you think he's a cold-blooded killer?"
"No, I don't think he did this with his own hands, just that he hooked up with some real scumbags. I mean, what was that little talk you two were having about money? The one you cut off so quick when Maddie and I came back."
"You want those answers, you'll have to ask my father." She abruptly turned away from him. A quick flash of anger ignited in Zach's belly, surprising him. He'd been feeling confused, sad, guilty, but only now did he realize how much Liz's refusal to listen enraged him. He darted out his hand and closed it over her shoulder.
"Let go of me, Zach," she demanded.
She resisted his attempt to turn her around but was no match for his strength. When she finally faced him, her eyes were narrowed with fury.
"Where did your pa gets the money?" He repeated harshly.
"He didn't get it. I paid for the renovations, gave him the boat, even your old house."
"You? We're talking several hundred thousand here. Where'd you get that kind of money?"
"The stock market's done very well for me."
His immediate skepticism made Zach feel slightly sick. "Why didn't you say so the first time I asked?"
She looked away a second, her temper obviously cooling.
"I feel treasonous even now saying it. You know how proud Papa is. He wouldn't want anyone knowing." Her voice took on a sad note. "He wouldn't even live in your house. And when I offered to buy him a new tour boat, he said it would ruin his image. Why are you making these awful accusations, Zach? Please tell me why?"
"If you'd . . . Those item . . ." He reached in his pocket and pulled out the evidence bag she'd refused to look at before. "I found these in your pa's yard, Liz! And the things he said inside the cave . . ." Now he looked away. His anger had faded, too, and he didn't even want to believe the words he was speaking. "He spoke of Jed, the prisoner too, and— Dammit all, Liz, he also talked about your mother and grandmother's death!"
"He believes Ankouer killed them, killed all of them."
"That's what worries me. I'm wanting to blame it on the money, on his getting mixed up with some bad types. I want to believe he's not directly responsible. But what if he's gone over the edge? Thinks he's protecting you from Ankouer. . . ."
A look of horror crossed Liz's face. Dear God, Zach realized, she was asking herself the same questions!
"I love you, cher," he said softly, knowing exactly how she felt "But I'm having a hard time believing you. If you know something, you'd better tell me now."
Horror faded from her face and rage returned. She pointed her finger, then reached out and tapped him on the chest. "Well, you better believe this," she said. "Immodestly put, I'm filthy rich. If you're not careful, these wild accusations will lead you right into a court of law. I'll ruin you, Zach, take everything you ever worked for. You can count on it."
With that, she bent for the garbage bag, hurled it in the pit, then stormed away, leaving Zach with a pan full of dirty soapsuds and not an inch closer to his answers than he'd ever been. The hell of it was, his love for Liz remained as strong as ever. He even felt sorry for Frank, the poor, demented sonuvabitch. And his heart was coming apart at the seams. If only he could forget everything he'd learned over the past two days.
But personal feelings couldn't get in the way of justice. Jed deserved more from him. He deserved to be avenged. And nothing Zach felt for Liz and Frank would stop it.
Chapter Nineteen
Damn, Zach. Damn him all to hell. Liz repeated the words again and again as she marched back to camp, trying without much success to block out her other thought.
Zach's accusations had turned her stomach, but her own doubts turned it even more. His evidence was so compelling. Maybe not enough to convince a jury, or even a prosecutor, but it presented a clear danger. Papa's in no condition to face charges, she thought. What if he babbled his theories about le fantome noir to a lawyer, or even worse, to someone not bound by attorney-client privilege? Who'd believe he hadn't gone over the edge? She hardly believed it herself.
Now at the camp site, she stopped and lingered by the edge. Maddie and her father leaned against the rock wall, talking. Maddie laughed softly at something he said, and Liz's stomach did another somersault. What if that woman came to court, flaunting her relationship with Papa even as jurors were trying to decide if he killed his wife? Combined with Zach's evidence, the case against him would look even worse.
Liz knew her father, knew that even in a deranged condition he wouldn't kill anyone, but a jury wouldn't know that. With so much stacked against him, he might be convicted or end up in a state-run mental ward. She had to help him.
A seed of an idea slowly took form, one that didn't sit much better with her than the probabilities she'd been contemplating. But nothing better came to mind.
She coughed deliberately to let the pair know she was back, then approached them at a brisk pace.
"I want to leave as soon as the sun rises," she informed them, then turned toward Maddie. "Since we still have some light left, let's get your pirogue and tie it to the boat so we won't have to do it in the morning."
"We got plenty of time tomorrow," Maddie replied, a tinge of resentment in her voice.
"Liz is right, Maddie," her father said gently, rising to his feet. "We best be gone from this place soon as we can."
" 'Kay, okay," Maddie grumbled, also getting up.
Liz was about to ask her father to stay so Zach wouldn't get alarmed if they were all gone, but at that moment Zach entered the clearing.
"Izzy want us to get my ol' pirogue," Maddie said to him. "A stupid idea you ask me."
"Not in my mind," Zach replied. "We can't pack our supplies till morning because of the raccoons. The less we have to do at that time the faster we'll get out of here."
"Right," Liz said curtly, wanting nothing to do with him even though he was defending her.
By the way he looked at her, she knew he noticed, and other than his quick defense he didn't regard her with much warmth either. He then suggested they gas up the boat at the same time. "Should have done it when I dredged up those cans," he said. "But I must've been tired, because I didn't think of it."
"Poor baby," Maddie said.
Zach's gaze drifted in her direction, but he didn't smile.
He walked over and picked up one of the crates holding the cans, then returned to the group, asking, "Where's the pirogue?"
"I show you," Maddie said sullenly.
They all fell in line behind her, traveling in strained silence. When they came to the little canoe, which was hidden behind some brush well away from the shore, Liz and Maddie helped her father carry it to his motorboat since Zach's hands were occupied with the crate of gas cans.
After the pirogue was tied to the back of the boat and the tank was filled, they headed back to camp . Maddie and her father walked ahead, chatting easily. Occasionally, Liz caught Zach looking at her. On other occasions, he caught her looking at him. But they spoke not a word.
Later, Liz lay on a bedroll, staring up at the haze-covered sky, and fought to stay awake until the others had
fallen asleep. Oh, Zach, she thought, why did this have to happen just when we found each other again? She wanted to cry so badly her heart was about to burst with the agony of it. She loved him, oh she loved him. But she have to leave him behind, just as she had twenty years before. Only, unlike then, this time she knew the reason.
* * *
"Wake up." Liz shook her father, and when his eyes drifted open she put her finger over his mouth. "We're leaving."
She expected him to object, but instead he lumbered drowsily to his feet and followed her out of the alcove. As soon as they were far enough away, she clicked on the flashlight she'd taken from the storage crates. Although a round moon hung in the sky, the omnipresent haze dulled its power to that of a twenty-watt bulb, and infrequent flashes of lightning warned of a brewing storm.
"Where're we going?" he asked.
"We're getting out of here."
Surprisingly, he chuckled. "So that is why you in so much hurry to get Maddie's pirogue outta hiding."
"I wanted to be sure she really came in it."
"You shoulda ask me."
"Well, I didn't, so there you are. Come on. We have to hurry."
He took the flashlight from her hand and moved in front of her. "I will lead. You do not know the land like me."
The trip to the shore was fairly easy, and soon they heard lapping water. The only other sounds came from the squishing silt beneath their heavy footsteps. No crickets, no frogs, no scurrying nocturnal creatures. But the absence of life no longer frightened her. They'd be gone soon.
Off Quadray Island, out of Port Chatre, out of Louisiana, and away from Zach. A replay of her threat came to mind. What unnecessary bravado. She had no intentions of taking Zach to court. Once she and her father reached Port Chatre—after a stop at his cabin to get the passport he'd acquired earlier for a family trip to England—she planned to drive to the nearest airport and buy two tickets to Chicago. From there, they'd head for France or Switzerland.
Another burst of lightning flashed, this time joined by the soft rumble of distant thunder. A chill ran down her spine.
What if Papa really had killed her mother and grandmother?
She hated that question, hated that it came up so often. She'd just have to get him help. Europe abounded with wonderfully luxurious mental hospitals. Doctors there would help him understand his mind had been playing tricks.
"I gonna push the boat back in," her father said, when they arrived at the shore. They'd beached the boat when they'd tied on Maddie's canoe and filled the tank. Although Liz had paid for it, she'd never seen it before then and had been surprised at how large it was for a fishing boat. With two center benches, another in the stern, and one more in the bow, it could easily seat eight. Tonight it would carry only two.
He gave her the flashlight to hold and began dragging the boat toward the water.
"Don't forget to untie the pirogue."
"I was gonna get to that."
Of course he was, she thought, watching as he moved to the back of the boat. He'd no more deprive Maddie of a way off the island than she would Zach. But was the pirogue enough? She feared it wasn't, and this weighed heavy on her mind.
"You think Maddie can really get them back in this small canoe?" she asked, praying she'd get the answer she wanted.
He paused for a second, his face looking indistinct in the muted moonlight.
"Don't you worry. Maddie know the swamp like you know them stocks you mess around with."
She was reassured by his confidence. If anyone knew Maddie's skills, he did. Just to be safe, though, she would notify the Louisiana authorities as soon as they reached Chicago, which if all went well would be the next night.
"Get in, Izzy," her father instructed tersely once the boat was in the water.
She stepped onto the center bench, causing the little craft to rock. Her father waited for her to sit, then as steadily as if he were on hard land, he took a seat in the stern and pulled the cord for the outboard motor. It sputtered and died. Liz's taut nerves pinged as she waited for him to pull it again, then relaxed when it coughed to life.
"You remember the way to tend the tiller and throttle?" he asked.
"Yes."
He inched forward, stepping over her seat, and moved to the bow. He clicked a switch, and the water ahead was immediately flooded with light.
"Keep a slow speed, hear?" He turned the tiller completely to the right, which Liz knew would send the boat straight out into the water. "And steer where the light fall. When you get out of Ankouer's evil fog, the moon will guide your way. Mind what I say and you get home safe."
A red light flashed in Liz's mind. "You make it sound like you're not going."
He leaped into the shallow water, shoes and all, landing directly astern. "I am not. When I get the opal, then I come home."
"No! You can't!" Liz leaned forward, preparing to stand, but with two lightning-swift moves, her father rotated the throttle fully open and engaged the gearshift lever. The boat jumped forward, careening into deeper water.
The momentum flattened Liz against her seat, then sent her tumbling into the space between it and the next one. Her elbows hit cold metal, stinging like hell. Her rump slammed against the floor of the boat, sending shocks of pain up her spine. Stunned and confused, she scrambled to her feet, stumbling again as she headed for the tiller.
Finally she slid onto the seat and grabbed the throttle. She eased back on it, which slowed the speeding boat enough to turn back toward shore.
"Papa!" she shouted, searching for him in the light beaming from the front of the boat. "Papa!"
He didn't answer and she saw him nowhere.
"Papa!"
Lightning split the sky. Thunder boomed so loudly, she felt it rock the ground. And there, not far away, spun a funnel cloud, inky black against the pale gray sky and heading right toward Quadray Island.
* * *
Zach tossed and turned on his bedroll in the sultry night, journeying through the mist of his dreams. Thunder and lightning crashed above, just like the night he'd gotten them lost in the bayou. He, Izzy, and Jed had huddled beneath a narrow overhang carved from the shore during the big flood of a few years back. Below them, dead cypress reached black arms to the exploding sky as though offering up the mass of twigs and logs and six-pack rings each one held in its twisted limbs.
"Boogelly, boogelly, boogelly! I'll gitchoo!" Jed wiggled his fingers like little worms directly toward Izzy's face. "Half-Man. Half Man's gonna gitchoo!"
Izzy cringed against the wall of the muddy shelter, her scratched, bony knees drawn up to her chest, and stared at Jed in abject horror.
"Cut it out, twerp," Zach snapped. "Can't you see you're freaking her out?"
"What's the point in telling ghost stories if no one gets scared?" Jed asked indignantly.
"Shut up, Jed."
Zach scooted next to her, put his arm around her shoulders, and pulled her close. "Jed was only kidding. There's no such thing as Half-Man."
She tightened her grip on her knees. Her lower lip trembled and her eyes stared blankly ahead, looking straight through Zach's little brother.
"Ankouer's acoming."
"That's just another story little boys"—he looked pointedly at Jed—"use to scare girls."
She shook her head fervently. "It weren't Jed's story. I heard Ankouer inside my head. He talk to me. He say, 'Guardian, I'm gonna gitchoo.' Only that ain't quite how he say it. It were more cultured-like . . . and meaner."
"Ankouer isn't real, Izzy. Not any realer than Half-Man or the ghost of old Laffite."
"No, Zach." She shivered so violently he felt it in his own bones. "This is different for true. He's gonna come for me one day and nothing I can do about it."
Izzy's face blurred and vanished, and for eons Zach floated inside the mist. Then Liz's face appeared. "Really, Zach. You don't believe those old superstitions, do you?"
They were in a gray place, everything gray-upon-gray and half dead, an
d he wanted to say no, but something inside screamed, 'Yes, yes, yes . . . and let's run, let's run like the devil was chasing us.'
The mist enveloped him again. He floated, enjoying the peace, the absence of conflict, of fear, of Ankouer. Suddenly he fell, plummeting, plummeting, plummeting into hundreds or thousands or millions of legs that wiggled like his kid brother's wormy fingers.
Tiny, they were very tiny, but he could see beady eyes staring evilly at him, and minuscule fangs dripping with venom. Sticky fibers oozed from their pendulous bodies, wrapping around him, entwining him. He twisted and jerked and fought with a fury, but his struggles caused the webs to tighten. When finally the creatures encased him, they laughed. As one they laughed, and laughed and laughed.
Zach's own muffled screams awoke him, and he jerked upright to see the night ablaze with lightning. Thunder shook the sky. Every nook of the alcove was flooded with light, allowing him to see with no mistake that everyone but him was gone.
And in the distance a twister, black as death against the hazy sky, spiraled inexorably toward land.
* * *
The tornado roared like a tiger. Wind whipped the waters, pushing the boat back, and rain poured from the sky. Liz turned up the throttle and kept shouting, although she knew her father couldn't hear her above the storm. Even worse, she feared he wouldn't answer if he did hear. His moves had been calculated with cool sanity. He'd led her to believe he'd stay with her, when all along he'd planned to send her off alone.
For what purpose? Her conviction that he'd lost his mind suddenly rang false. Zach, she thought in alarm. If his accusations were on target, her father couldn't let him live. And if he had cold-bloodedly killed her mother and Jed, he wouldn't hesitate to do it again.
No! She refused to think such thoughts. It was the opal. Her father truly believed he had to get it back for her. She'd trust him, no matter what. She'd trust. . . .
Chills & Thrills Paranormal Boxed Set Page 19