Shadows: A Bayou Magic Novel

by Kristen Proby

  “You keep that hidden, and you use it,” I say strongly. “You’re going to live through this, Sarah.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  I wake with a start and blink rapidly, both of my sisters and Cash hovering over me.

  “Are you okay?” Millie asks. Her face is lined with concern.

  “I still didn’t see him,” I say and sit up to brush my hair off my face. “He’s playing with them. Taunting them. He has five girls now. And there was a knife that he must have dropped. Sarah has it now, so if he tries to hurt her, she’ll hurt him back.”

  “Sarah?” Cash asks.

  “The one that can see me. Her name is Sarah. Sarah Chandler. She’s been there a while, Cash. With the rate he’s been killing these girls, the clock is ticking for her. And she knows it. But she’s smart, and she’s strong.”

  “She needs to be,” Daphne says, her face pale.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “She held your hand,” Millie says quietly.

  “You could see?” I ask.

  Daphne nods and swallows hard. “It’s something out of a horror movie.”

  “It’s worse than that because it’s real,” I reply and reach out to give her a hug. “You didn’t have to go with me. I wish you hadn’t.”

  “We had to know if you needed help,” Daphne replies. “But you’re getting stronger.”

  “I’m getting madder,” I say, barking a short laugh.

  “That will fuel the strength,” Millie says, taking each of our hands.

  “I still don’t know how to find him.”

  “In your dreams,” Cash says. “And if that’s what it takes to find him, we keep doing it.”

  “I need a break. But I can try again later.”

  “You deserve the break,” Cash replies and kisses my forehead.

  “We’re not leaving here until this is over,” Millie says. “Daphne and I will sleep here. We need to stick together. It’s going to get more dangerous now. I don’t know how I know that; I just do.”

  “Agreed.” I nod and take a deep breath. “It’s going to be dangerous. And fast.”

  Cash links his fingers with mine. “We’re ready.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  “I always seemed to enjoy everything that hurt.”

  - Albert Fish, AKA The Brooklyn Vampire

  His balls feel heavy and swollen. They throb. That dumb bitch thinks she can hurt him, kick him, and then run away from him?

  Fuck that. He’ll teach her a lesson.

  He’ll teach them all a fucking lesson. She’s losing her manners. Her respect for him. And he will not stand for that. No, he’ll remind her just how important he is, how much she loves him.

  Maybe she’s forgotten how she used to look at him. How she played coy and hard to get. But he knew that was her way of flirting with him. He’s stayed in the background for too long, given her too much independence.

  It’s time for that to change. Soon.

  He paces his little house, back and forth, with throbbing balls and a bruised jaw. He showed her, didn’t he? He took two women after she tried to hurt him, and he’ll hurt them far more before he’s done with them.

  The anger fuels him. He stomps back to his room of pleasure and marches through the door, startling all five of his toys.

  He knows it’s not their fault. And taking her indiscretions out on them doesn’t seem entirely fair, but he has energy to burn, and this is his favorite way to do that.

  And…someone has to pay.

  Someone will pay.

  Dearly.

  “Come here, Brielle.”

  He passes by the one that’s been feisty. He doesn’t have it in him to engage in a cat and mouse game tonight, and when he decides it’s her time, he’ll need more energy.

  No, instead, he walks to one that he’s only had a day or two and smiles into her sweet, precious face.

  “You made me real mad tonight, Brielle.”

  Her face crumples, and she starts to cry, spit dripping down her chin as she begs and pleads with him to let her go.

  “Oh, do you honestly think I will do that? That I will let you go? Tsk tsk.” He unties her from her restraints. “I won’t let you go yet. You’re still alive, silly girl.”

  She hiccups and keeps crying. She soils herself, which brings him great joy.

  Yes, great joy, indeed.

  “I don’t think we’ll play at the bench today.” He kisses her cheek as he pulls her across the uneven wood floor to the chair. He saves the chair for special occasions.

  Revenge feels like the perfect occasion.

  He gets her situated, her hands and legs secured in the leather straps. Her mouth gapes soundlessly now, her despair palpable.

  “You have to breathe, Brielle. It won’t do to have you pass out on me now. That will only anger me. You don’t want to anger me any more than you already have, do you?”

  She shakes her head, but still, no sound emerges.

  He grips her throat in his hand, squeezing slightly.

  “I said breathe.”

  She takes a deep breath, her blue eyes pinned to his.

  “Please don’t kill me.”

  “I’m sorry, I’m going to have to disappoint you there.”

  He reaches for his favorite knife, but it’s gone. Just one more thing to displease him today.

  One more disappointment.

  He chooses another blade, one not quite as sharp, and then turns back to her. Without a word, he slices her flesh from hip to knee.

  She keens in pain as the blood runs down the side of the chair.

  “That will teach you not to run from me.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Cash

  “It’s good that I came,” Felicia says into my ear. She arrived in Savannah this morning to check on my mom.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Well, she hasn’t been out of the house in a while,” she says, speaking low. “And she’s clearly not able to get around like she used to. The house hasn’t been cleaned. Honestly, she needs help.”

  “We’ll get her anything she needs. A housekeeper, a home nurse. Whatever she needs.”

  “Andy feels the same way, of course. And I agree. I just wanted to make sure I have your permission to make decisions and get things set up for her.”

  “Felicia, you know I trust you. Just keep us posted. And please tell Mom I love her.”

  “Will do. I’m going to take her to get her hair done and out for lunch today. We’re having a girls’ day.”

  “She’ll love that. Thank you.”

  “Are you kidding? This is a vacation. Talk to you soon.”

  She ends the call just as Brielle walks out of the shower, wrapped in a fluffy, white towel.

  “Was that Felicia?” she asks.

  “Yes, she’s at Mom’s. It’s good she’s there. She will take care of things.”

  “She’ll be great,” Brielle says with a smile, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. Her hand clutches her chest, and she scowls. “Why do I keep forgetting my pendant?”

  She stomps back into the bathroom and calls out to me, “Have you seen my necklace?”

  “You had it on this morning.”

  She pokes her head into the bedroom. “I know, and I took it off for my shower. Now, it’s gone.”

  “Did you ask your sisters?”

  She disappears again, and I hear her talking with her siblings.

  “They haven’t seen it,” Brielle says as she bustles back into the bedroom and starts tearing the bed apart. “Maybe it came off while you were rocking my world.”

  “So, you’re saying I rock your world?”

  She rolls her eyes and looks at me like I’m ridiculous. “Maybe.”

  “On a scale of one to ten, where would I rank on the world-rocking scale?”

  “Your ego is big enough without me feeding it, you know.”

  “Is my ego the only big thing I have?”

  She barks out a lau
gh, the levity finally reaching her eyes. “You’re silly.”

  I tug her to me and kiss her long and slow, reveling in how she fits against me as if she were made just for me.

  “You two are disgusting,” Daphne says from the doorway. “Millie and I are going to check out our respective businesses to make sure the sky hasn’t fallen in either of them.”

  “We’ll be back later,” Millie calls from the hallway.

  I kiss Brielle on the nose, and Daphne rolls her eyes then disappears down the hall.

  “Bye!” Brielle calls with a laugh. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you enjoy taunting my sisters.”

  “Oh, I enjoy it very much,” I confirm and nod. “I don’t have to be in the office until around one today. Asher’s working on a different case this morning.”

  “Perfect. Mallory called and asked if we’d like to have lunch with her and her husband, Beau.”

  I quirk a brow. “Beau Boudreaux? The tycoon?”

  “One and the same.” She nods and wanders to the closet to choose some clothes. “I haven’t seen him in a long time. He’s a busy guy.”

  “What with being a billionaire and all.”

  “And the owner of a massive company. He also has a big family. He’s a nice guy. You’ll like him.”

  “Okay,” I reply and take her hand once she’s dressed and ready to go. “Lead the way.”

  “I admit,” Beau says an hour later as we wait for our lunch to be served, “I’m fascinated by your career.”

  “It’s not always as exciting as they portray it in the movies,” I reply. “A lot of it is boring deskwork.”

  “But a lot of it isn’t,” Mallory replies. “And, I will say, I can’t imagine having that much knowledge of how horrible human beings can be is an easy job. It must weigh heavily on you.”

  “Sometimes,” I agree. “It depends on the job, of course. But you’re right in that I don’t necessarily work with the best of society.”

  “And now you’re here, on your vacation, doing it again,” Brielle says, taking my hand in hers and linking our fingers. “I’m sorry about that.”

  “I think I’m in the right place at the right time.”

  “That’s a lovely way to think about it,” Mallory says with a wide smile.

  Our meals are served, and right after I’ve taken the first bite of my shrimp gumbo, my phone rings.

  “I’m sorry. It’s my boss in Dallas. I’d better take this.”

  I step away from the table, move out to the sidewalk, and accept the call.

  “This is Winslow.”

  “It’s Peters,” he says, his voice brisk and all business. “I have news that you’re not going to like, Cash.”

  I narrow my eyes. “What’s up?”

  “Simpson won’t be going to prison.”

  There are moments in movies when the protagonist receives bad news, and the camera spins around them quickly as if everything is spiraling out of control.

  This is that moment for me.

  My stomach roils.

  “Why the fuck not?”

  “He’s been found not guilty by reason of insanity. So, instead of a cage in prison, he’ll be in a mental hospital for the rest of his life.”

  “Unacceptable. He’s not fucking insane. I’ll sit on the stand and testify.”

  “Too late,” Peters says.

  “Why wasn’t I notified that this was going to trial? And how in the fucking hell did it happen so fast?”

  “Your guess is as good as mine. I smell something dirty, but I can’t prove it, and what’s done is done.”

  “All of that work. For nothing?”

  “He’s going away,” he reminds me. “Just not where you want him to go.”

  “I want him fucking dead.” My voice is low and hard. “And I’d like to be the one to do it.”

  “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that,” Peters says. “Any news on the case you’re working?”

  “Nothing significant. I’ll keep you posted.”

  “Do that.”

  He hangs up, and I squeeze the bridge of my nose, take a deep breath, and pull my shit together before walking back into the restaurant.

  “Everything okay?” Brielle asks when I sit next to her.

  “Fine.” I clear my throat and reach for my water, wishing for something much stronger. Mallory’s eyes narrow on me from across the table.

  She’s probably reading my mind. I have no idea how this stuff works, but I expect her to call me out on my lie.

  Instead, she says, “Do you have siblings, Cash?”

  “One brother. He’s a cop here in New Orleans.”

  “Oh, that’s awesome,” she replies.

  “My sister-in-law Kate’s best friend is married to a cop,” Beau says. “Asher Smith.”

  Brielle and I look at each other in surprise.

  “Do you know him?” Beau asks.

  “Actually, yes. We’re working with him on a case,” I reply.

  “Well, he’s a good man,” Beau replies. “I trust him implicitly.”

  “I agree,” Brielle says, surprising me. I actually got the feeling she didn’t like Asher much. “I don’t know him well, but he seems like a decent person and a good cop.”

  “How’s that all going?” Mallory asks.

  “Slow,” I admit. “Frustratingly slow.”

  “It won’t always,” she says.

  “If you know something about this, Mallory, I need you to tell me.”

  “I don’t,” she says, shaking her head. “I wish I did. I wish I could see it all clearly, but I only see flashes of things. Like Brielle, I see the dead. I’m a medium. And if I touch a person, I feel what they feel, and I can see their thoughts.”

  “That must be inconvenient,” I say to Beau with a grin.

  “I can’t read him,” Mallory says, leaning her head on Beau’s shoulder. “It’s one of the reasons I knew he was for me. But I assure you, if I knew the answers you seek, I’d tell you right away. What he’s doing is pure evil.”

  “Thank you,” I reply.

  We spend another hour with small talk and finish our meals. After we’ve said goodbye to the other couple, Brielle and I set off for the police station. It’s time for me to check in with Asher.

  “What happened?” Brielle asks.

  “To what?”

  “You took that call, and when you came back, something was different. You covered it up well, but I know you well enough by now to see that something’s off. What happened on that call? Is your mom okay?”

  “It wasn’t Felicia,” I reply, taking a deep breath. It’s time Brielle knew the truth of what happened before. Of the demons I carry. “It was Peters, my boss in Dallas, like I said.”

  “Do you need to go back to Texas?”

  Her hand tightens on mine at the thought.

  “No, he doesn’t need me there. Do you remember when I told you that I’m here on a forced vacation?”

  “Sure.”

  “I was assigned to a particularly difficult case in Maine six weeks ago. There was a killer up there, Rodney Simpson. He was taking men and sexually assaulting them, killing them, and then burying them in his backyard.”

  “Holy shit,” she whispers.

  “Statistically, a male serial killer who kills other men isn’t that common. Yes, there are some out there—Dahmer, Gacy, the Candy Man, to name a few—but it’s more commonly women or children, for many reasons that I won’t bore you with right now. All we knew was that we had six men missing in Maine, and most likely a serial killer on our hands.

  “The interesting thing was, he didn’t just take men who were vacationing or on business from out of town. Yes, he did take a few of those, but he also snatched men who lived right there in the small town. When that happened more than once, it clued us all in that we likely had a multiple murderer.

  “My unit was assigned, and we dug right in, finding more clues than local law enforcement had uncovered. Not because they did a
bad job, we just had more experience and more tools at our disposal. I mean, a tiny town like that in Maine can rarely boast even a single murder, let alone something of that magnitude.

  “It was frustrating, though, because he kept eluding us. He was too calm and too detached to make a mistake.”

  “But he eventually made one, right?”

  “Yes. Well, no, but he did get arrogant. He decided to start playing with us. He made us part of the game. He sent letters threatening the members of the team. Said he was going to take one of us and make an example of us. Of course, we took the threat seriously, but—”

  “He took one of you?”

  “Carlson,” I confirm, feeling sick to my stomach. “He was forty-six, had been with the bureau for more than twenty years. A good man with a wife and five children. He went out to get us all coffee one morning and never came back.”

  “Oh my gods.”

  “He sent us video of what he was doing to Carlson.” I swallow the bile and try to push the mental images from my mind. “I’ll spare you the details. After four days of torture, he finally killed Carlson and left him strung up in the middle of Main Street in the dead of night.”

  “Didn’t they have cameras?”

  “Not before, no. This town was like going back in time thirty years. They didn’t have any kind of security or surveillance before we got there. But it was one of the first things we did. The killer didn’t know that we’d had them installed, and his public display cost him dearly. We got his identity.”

  “Who was it?”

  I swallow again and stop when we get to the police station. We sit on a step, and I finish the story.

  “Rodney Simpson. The chief of police.”

  “No way!”

  “Yes, way. He was under our noses the entire fucking time, and we didn’t know it. God only knows how many people he killed over the years. Maybe dozens. I spoke to him every single day. Worked with him. So did Carlson. And that’s the really fucked-up thing. I don’t know how I missed it. I don’t know how I didn’t figure it out sooner. Six weeks, Brielle, and that bastard didn’t even trip my radar one time.”

  “It’s not your fault.”