by Jana DeLeon
She dropped the curtain back in place and crossed her arms over her chest as a chill ran through her. What did he want with her? What was he waiting for?
So close.
Unbidden, her mother’s words echoed through her mind once more.
But she still had no idea what they meant.
* * *
AS THE SUN BROKE over the cypress trees, Danae turned her car into the circular drive of her family home. It was barely 6:00 a.m. and she knew Zach wouldn’t show up for another hour, but she couldn’t sit in her cabin any longer. She was no stranger to dangerous situations, and the reality was, she was just as much a sitting duck at her cabin as she was in the house. But at least in the house, she could look for answers—try to put together the pieces of her past.
As she stepped out of her car, something out of the corner of her eye caught her attention. She looked over at the brush near the north side of the house and saw a boot sticking out of the edge of the overgrown weeds. In a single fluid movement, she pulled her pistol from her purse and took one hesitant step toward the boot.
Call Carter.
Her mind screamed at her to let the sheriff do his job, but with the cloudy sky, she knew cell-phone service would be nil. If she had to drive into town, whoever was in the brush might be gone before she got back.
She began inching toward the boot. Maybe she’d get lucky and it was her intruder. Maybe he’d been struck by lightning or had a heart attack while trying to sneak into the house.
Sure, and maybe he’ll have a full confession typed up in his pocket.
She clenched the pistol, silently willing her optimistic and sarcastic selves to give her a break as she stepped next to the boot and peered into the dense foliage.
Zach!
She shoved the pistol into her purse as she dropped down beside him, placing her fingers on his neck. A wave of relief washed through her when she felt his pulse, steady and strong. Some dried blood pooled on leaves under his head, and she warred with herself over whether to move him to check his head or run for help.
Then he stirred and groaned.
She placed her hand on his chest as his eyes fluttered open. “Don’t move,” she said.
His eyes widened and he looked wildly around but Danae noticed he didn’t turn his head.
“What happened?” he asked.
“I don’t know. Can you move your head?”
He turned it slowly from left to right. “It’s throbbing a bit, but everything is moving okay.”
“Good. Do you think you can sit up? I need to get you inside so I can take a look at the injury and see how bad it is.”
He sat up okay, but when he tried to stand, he staggered a bit. Afraid he would fall, Danae wrapped her arm around his waist to steady him and guided him toward the house. At first, he was wobbly, but as they entered and walked to the kitchen, he started to steady.
He slumped in a chair at the breakfast table and she hurried to gather a wet cloth, aspirin and a glass of water. She handed him the aspirin and he swallowed them down. His hands seemed steady as he held the glass, which was a good sign.
“This may sting a bit,” she said as she patted his head just above the ear, trying to remove the dried blood. “The blood is caked in your hair, so I can’t see the injury. But it’s all dried, so that’s a good sign.”
“It doesn’t feel like a good sign.”
“Give the aspirin time to work.”
She blotted at the blood again and finally removed enough to lift his hair and get a good look at the cut. “It’s a pretty good gash. About an inch long, but it’s not bleeding anymore. It needs to be cleaned, though, and you might need stitches.”
His eyes widened. “No. I’m sure I’ll be fine if it’s cleaned up.”
Instantly, Danae’s senses went on high alert. The man was a contractor, and based on the scars she’d seen on his arms and hands, he was no stranger to injury on the job. Was she really supposed to believe that he was scared of doctors? Something about Zach didn’t add up—hadn’t added up from the beginning—but she’d been unable to put her finger on what.
“How did this happen?” she asked.
His eyes flickered a little, and she knew he was trying to decide what to say. She’d altered, edited and otherwise rewrote the truth so many times before that she recognized a cover story in progress, but Zach wasn’t as adept as she was. Wasn’t used to lying, so he gave himself away.
“I was restless last night and couldn’t sleep, so I came to the house hoping to catch the intruder in the act.”
She studied his face, but all she could see was the look of failure and a bit of embarrassment. It appeared he’d decided to tell the truth, which sent her right from concerned to angry.
“You have no business poking into things you weren’t hired for,” she said.
“I disagree. If someone was in the house yesterday, then that means they were inside when I was working. That puts me at as big a disadvantage as you, and I don’t think I should have to work that way any more than you should.”
She clenched her jaw, but couldn’t formulate a good argument. Zach did have the right to feel safe in his work environment, but she still couldn’t approve of what he’d done, especially as he hadn’t even bothered to talk to her before doing it.
“So you thought you’d do what—take a picture? It’s not like you know enough people in Calais that you could identify the intruder, even if you managed to see him.”
He shrugged. “I guess I figured I’d catch him and put the whole thing to bed.”
She stared. “Have you lost your mind?”
He gave her a half smile and pointed to the gash. “Maybe a bit of it leaked out.”
“That’s not even remotely funny. You could have been killed, and don’t bother trying to tell me that you fell and hit a rock. I looked and there wasn’t a rock anywhere near you, much less under your head. Besides, I’ve seen plenty of people clocked with a beer bottle and know what a blow to the side of the head looks like.”
The smile slipped from his face. “I was hiding there, at the brush in the edge of the driveway, and I saw something move on the far side in the swamp. I waited for the clouds to clear to get a better look, but he must have left by the time the moonlight came.”
“And then someone hit you?”
He frowned and stared down at the floor, his brow scrunched. Finally he shook his head. “Not then. First, the scream came.”
Danae’s heart leaped in her chest. “What scream?”
“I don’t know. It sounded like it came from inside the house, but it echoed everywhere. It was awful—like someone in agony. Then a light appeared in the top window of the house and the scream stopped. A second later, I heard footsteps behind me, but before I could turn around, he clocked me.”
She struggled to process the information, trying to put it all in a rational perspective. “What kind of light—flashlight, a room light?”
“Neither. It was more of a small glow that grew in size, pulsing as it got bigger. I could see it upstairs, through the window on the landing.”
“Then what was it?”
He hesitated, and she could tell he didn’t want to say.
“Zach, what did you see?”
“It looked human.”
Danae barely managed to keep her shock from showing. Under other circumstances, she would pass off Zach’s claim as a symptom of his head injury. He’d simply seen the light after someone cracked him on the head and was confused now.
But what were the odds that they had both seen a corporeal entity on the same night? She needed to know just how bad that crack on Zach’s head was.
“Are you still dizzy?” she asked.
“Yeah, a little.”
“I’m going to take you to Doc Broussard.”
His eyes widened. “No, I don’t need to see a doctor. I’ll be fine.”
“I’m not asking you. You were injured on my property while under the employment of the estate I
’ll inherit. It’s a liability issue, so you’ll see the doctor. We can wait for a decent hour to call William, but I bet he says the same thing.”
Zach frowned but he’d been in construction long enough to know the drill. “Surely the doc won’t be up yet, either, much less open for business.”
“He’s an early riser, and he’s always open for emergencies. I’ll call him from my car as soon as I can get a signal. Can you walk?”
He rose slowly from the chair. “Yeah, the dizziness is starting to go away.”
“Good,” she said.
Maybe when it cleared completely they could make more sense of it all.
Chapter Nine
Doc Broussard was a kind-looking silver-haired gentleman who smiled at Danae and nodded at Zach as they walked into his clinic. Zach’s head still pounded from the hit, but he wasn’t about to admit that to the doctor or Danae. If Danae even suspected he wasn’t up to par, she could easily have him removed from the job, and that would ruin everything.
Doc Broussard introduced himself and directed Zach to sit on an examining table. “Looks like you took a crack to the head. William said he was hiring someone to work on the house. It wasn’t supposed to work on you.”
Zach glanced at Danae, but her jaw was set. Clearly, she wasn’t interested in volunteering details. He didn’t understand her reasons, but figured it was smart to follow her lead. Danae had lived here for six months and knew everyone. If she wanted to keep the whole thing quiet, then that was what he’d do.
Doc Broussard parted Zach’s hair and studied the gash. “You’ve got a pretty good cut here. I could put a couple of stitches in to help it close faster. Wouldn’t take more than a few minutes.”
Zach looked over at Danae.
“That would be great,” she said, “and please be sure to send William the bill. The estate will pick up the cost.”
“Of course,” Doc Broussard said as he began threading a needle. “Injured on the job and all that. Of course, this happened sometime last night and that gash was made by something smooth, like a crowbar. But I’m going to assume you have your reasons for wanting people to think he was injured while making repairs.”
Danae sighed. “We’ve had some...unexplained things happening at the house. Zach thought he’d play hero last night and see if he could catch someone in the act.”
Doc Broussard looked at Zach. “And you caught the raw end of it.”
“I’m afraid so,” Zach said.
“Humph.” Doc Broussard shook his head and started stitching. “You’re not the first to sit on my table and tell me a story about strange things in that house, and I’m guessing you won’t be the last.”
Danae’s eyes widened. “What do you mean? Who else?”
“A couple of the women hired to clean. One had a pretty good scrape and the other bruised her knees pretty good.”
“What happened to them?” Danae asked.
“They claim they saw a ghost.”
Danae sucked in a breath. “I heard the rumors, but I always dismissed them as the fancies of simple minds. Was the ghost a woman?”
Doc Broussard shook his head. “They didn’t specify. They said it appeared right in front of them and they took off out of the house. One fell in the entry and bruised her knees on the marble floors, and the other caught her arm on the end of one of those ornamental columns in the entry and that gave her the scratch.”
Danae frowned. “William said he couldn’t find anyone in Calais to clean. They were all scared.”
Doc Broussard nodded. “They weren’t the first to hightail it out of that house crying ‘Ghost.’ I guess the others managed to do so without injuring themselves. And then there was your sister.”
“Alaina?” Danae stared at the doctor, her shock clear. “I never heard of anything happening to her. I mean...except for the attack.”
“I think she and Carter were trying to keep it all quiet until they figured out what was going on, but she took a tumble down the stairs early on in her stay. Gave her a pretty good crack on the head, like our contractor friend here.” He cut the stitching thread and patted Zach on the back.
“Were you...?” Danae’s voice trailed off. “Were you my doctor...before?”
“No. Ophelia’s parents had doctors in New Orleans that they’d used for years and always took her there for checkups. She did the same with you girls.” He smiled. “At first, I was a bit offended, but then I noticed that a trip to the doctor always ended with a shopping spree for you girls. Ophelia always bought you the prettiest dresses.”
Danae smiled. “That’s a nice memory. Thank you for sharing that.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Can I ask you another question?” Danae asked.
“Of course.”
“Did you know my stepfather? I know he was private, possibly even agoraphobic, but I figure someone had to look after him when he was sick....”
Doc Broussard nodded. “I made a trip to see Trenton once a month—more if he was ill.”
“Was he ill a lot?”
“Not really. If I had to guess, he was a good twenty years older than your mother and had the usual things that come with age and lack of proper diet and exercise—high blood pressure, high cholesterol and the like. Any of those combined with age and a weak heart could take someone out.”
Danae frowned.
“I know you want to figure out something about your past,” Doc Broussard said. “I’d want to do the same thing in your position, but I honestly don’t know what I can give you.”
“Surely you can tell me something about him. Anything?”
The doctor sighed. “You’d think after all that time I’d have an idea what made the man tick, maybe have an inkling of how he spent his time, but I don’t. He lay there in his bed wearing striped pajamas, completely silent while I did my exam. The only time he spoke was to tell me of a symptom or ask about a dosage.”
“That’s just strange,” Zach said.
“Definitely,” Doc Broussard agreed. “He was an odd man, but I never got a handle on why.”
“What do you mean?” Danae asked. “I thought he was mental.”
“Perhaps. Certainly, the indicators were there, but I always wondered what would show if he’d agreed to the tests I suggested.”
“You think he was faking?”
“Not necessarily. I think he was definitely suffering under some neurosis, but there was a cunning in him—something so imperceptible in the way he looked at things that later on, you’d convince yourself you hadn’t seen it.”
“You think he was hiding something?” Zach asked.
Doc Broussard shrugged. “Aren’t we all? But I couldn’t begin to guess what secrets lay in Purcell’s past that caused him to lock himself away in that house for over two decades. I’m afraid to even try.”
“It sometimes seems,” Danae said, her tone conveying her frustration, “that Purcell went to the grave still taking from everyone and not giving a single thing.”
“I’m really sorry,” Doc Broussard said and placed his hand on Danae’s arm. “I wish I could give you some answers.”
Danae gave his hand a squeeze. “I do, too, but I’m not giving up. I’ll find them. It just might take a while.”
Doc Broussard smiled. “I believe you.” He walked back over to Zach and took a look at his earlier work. “Well, this guy is patched up nicely, if I do say so myself. Just keep it clean and dry for a couple of days and let me know if your headache gets worse.”
“Thanks, Doc,” Zach said, gently probing his head. “Hey, I’m curious. You said you didn’t think I’d be the last person to sit here after being injured at the house. Any particular reason why?”
The doctor frowned. “Just a feeling, I suppose.”
“What kind of feeling?” Danae asked. “Surely you don’t believe those women or Alaina saw a ghost?”
Doc Broussard stared at the wall for a couple of seconds, rubbing his jaw, then finally looked back at
Danae. “I guess I figure the house has been sitting there like a tomb all these years. Purcell was there, but he wasn’t living so much as he was existing.”
He took off his glasses and rubbed them with the hem of his shirt. “Maybe the house is coming alive after all these years...and bringing something with it.”
Zach narrowed his eyes at the doctor. “You don’t really believe that, do you? I mean, you’re a scientist.”
“That’s true enough, but the swamps of Mystere Parish are different than most. Things happen in them that can’t be explained in earthly ways. I figure that house has been so swallowed up by the swamp that maybe it’s become like it.”
Zach was momentarily taken aback. Last night, when he was walking the trail to the main house, he’d been thinking how different this swamp felt. How it felt alive. Now this seemingly sane and obviously well-educated man was saying the same thing. The problem was, it still made no sense, regardless of what feelings he might have.
“What kind of unexplained things?” he asked.
“Oh, ghostly lights and noises that can’t be attributed to man or beast...the usual sort of thing you’d expect to find in an area of the country where things are steeped in lore and some still practice the old ways.”
“But that’s not why you think they’re different,” Zach said. “Is it?”
Doc Broussard smiled. “You don’t miss much, do you? No, I have my own reasons for thinking the way I do. My own unexplained story.”
“I’d love to hear it,” Danae said. “I mean, if you don’t mind telling it.”
“Not at all. It was about this time twenty-five years ago and I was deer hunting. A fellow doctor friend of mine had canceled at the last minute, and my wife tried to convince me not to hunt alone, but I was determined. I was on call the following two weeks and I intended to get my one clear day in.”
He stared out the window and into the row of cypress trees across the street from his office. “I was tracking a buck—a good size based on the tracks—when all of a sudden, I got the feeling I was being watched. Well, there’s plenty of creatures in the swamp that you don’t want keeping that close an eye on you, so I stopped short and tried to get tuned to what it was.”