Paranormal After Dark

by Rebecca Hamilton

  And there’d been a child. A baby. A secret she’d known for almost two weeks before her family’s ill-fated trip. She had dangled it before him, promising to tell him but wanting to savor the moment by prolonging it.

  He could never know she had kept that from him.

  For her part, she would keep her thoughts locked on the surface. She would not let herself think of everything she had lost. Her mind would not survive it.

  * * *

  NOW, ALL SHE could do was hope; hope Jesse would accept her back; hope Angelique would not do something none of them could reverse; hope, somehow, Oz could forgive her for leaving him a second time with no explanation.

  Chapter 25

  Oz

  I DID NOT sleep well.

  I was beginning to wonder if something was really wrong with Adrienne; maybe she was experiencing some issues beyond her memory loss.

  The entire visit was suspect. She had not even asked about her estate, despite this being the purpose of her trip to see me. She had, in fact, asked very little of anything, and she hadn’t made any attempts at going off on her own. Hadn’t requested to see any pictures, paperwork, news clippings. Nothing. And never mind how odd it was for her chivalrous beau, Jesse, to first take the time to establish his position for me in the bar, but then let her run off and stay with me having no end date in mind.

  And then the episode at Ophélie. How to even interpret it? I won’t pretend I didn’t feel that old warmth at her neediness for me. It was achingly familiar, and for those few moments on the balcony, after she threw herself into my arms, I could almost feel the clock turning back three years and bringing with it the desperation we felt in our stolen time.

  My logical mind was at a complete loss.

  There was one person whom I thought might be able to help put things in order. I knew Adrienne would be unhappy with me after promising to keep her visit a secret, but at this point it was clear we were at an impasse. Either I couldn’t help her, or she didn’t really want to be helped. I was in over my head.

  My father would be angry with me for taking her in after all that transpired in Abbeville, but he would put that aside to help me in any way he could.

  * * *

  WHEN I LEFT the house an hour later, Adrienne was still asleep and I decided not to bother her. I left a quick note explaining I was going to the office, and gave her my mobile number if she needed anything in the next couple of hours.

  The office of Sullivan & Associates did not open to the public until nine, but I knew my father usually arrived around seven. I timed my visit with this in mind, desiring his full attention.

  My father’s office door was closed, an indication he was either with a client or deep in paperwork. My Uncle Rory came up behind me just as I was considering leaving.

  “You might peek your head in the door, kiddo. The ladies in there with your father called him out of bed early this morning; they’ve been here since six.”

  I stared at him incredulously. Six! This must be a special client. No one ever made my father change his schedule like that. “Then I should come back later.”

  He leaned in closer. “The morning cleaning lady was here when they arrived. She said they kept talking about you.” He paused. My Uncle Rory was not mischievous, and he made it his personal agenda to cut drama off when it involved someone in our family. “I’m quite sure if someone came in here at dawn talking about me, I would get to the bottom of it. Fast.”

  I nodded absently. Panic crept in again, like that moment in Abbeville when I knew things were starting to go south.

  I approached the door to my father’s office tentatively. After one knock, I opened the door slightly.

  My father’s eyes were heavy. I could see the last couple of hours had not been easy. “I was getting ready to call you.” Even his voice was weary. “Have a seat.”

  The woman sitting closest to the door rotated her body to face me, meeting my eyes with a cold, hard gaze. She looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t place it.

  “Colin Sullivan,” she said stiffly and nodded at me. I offered her my hand and she glanced toward it as if it carried the plague. Ignoring my gesture, she looked back at my father.

  “Oz, we’ve got a situation on our hands-“ my father began, but the woman cut him off.

  “It isn’t doing any of us any good to sugarcoat this,” she said to him. She looked at me again and her gaze was steely. “You've kidnapped Adrienne and if you don’t turn her over at once, we are going to have you arrested.”

  She said this so calmly, at first I wondered if I heard her right. Then she continued, “You have no right to keep her from her family! This is not your job!”

  The younger woman next to her placed her hands on the woman’s arm to steady her. I noticed her now for the first time. She was about Adrienne’s age, very fair. She was uncomfortable, possibly even a little bit afraid.

  I was too stunned to speak.

  “You kidnapped my son’s fiancée! You have no right!” the older woman continued, growing exceedingly agitated. Her voice came back to me now; the voice on the other end of the line in Abbeville.

  I quickly closed the door, seeing this was already drawing attention.

  My father spoke before I could start in with my defense. His voice was terse, his words indicating his own anxiety. “Please, ladies. Colin, let me introduce you. This is Angelique Fontaine. And this,” he said, gesturing toward the small younger woman, “is her daughter, Anne.” Anne smiled shyly at me, dropping her eyes. She reminded me of someone.

  “Nice to meet you both,” I said absently, still frozen where I stood.

  “Colin, Mrs. Fontaine seems to believe you have some connection with the disappearance of her son’s friend, Adrienne,” my father formally intoned. He wanted to keep this civil and I could see he had been struggling to do so since they came in.

  “Believe? Oh no, Monsieur, I know! This man kidnapped Adrienne and has been holding her hostage for almost two weeks!”

  Anne said nothing, but put her hand out to steady her mother, who was verging on hysterics.

  I didn't know what to do. Adrienne’s new family coming here was something I never considered. Their accusations took me off guard. I knew for certain Jesse was aware Adrienne was staying with me of her own volition, so why didn’t they?

  Maybe Jesse hadn’t shared that information with his mother because he feared she would do something exactly like this.

  I took a deep breath and chose my course. “With all due respect, ma’am, Adrienne came to me of her own free will. She asked me for help. I have done nothing to compromise her, or her safety.”

  My father looked aghast. I avoided his eyes. This was not how I wanted him to find out. “She’s been with you?” He nearly spat the words out, his face colored with anger and disbelief. I knew he wanted to reproach me further, but seemed to understand doing it in front of these ladies wouldn't help matters.

  “I wanted to tell you, but she asked me not to.” I almost told him this was the reason for my visit, but stopped short. All present company had their own agendas, including me. Of all of us, mine may have been the most closely tied to Adrienne’s own wishes. I realized getting defensive with these women would only make Adrienne look worse.

  I looked at Anne, who was fanning her mother with a stack of papers. Angelique’s face was the color of Bordeaux wine. She seemed to be grasping for words as she sucked at the air.

  My father gave me a look that said he should have known this would happen. Angelique pushed an embarrassed Anne’s hand away, and stood up to face me. The chair she was sitting in fell over and Anne caught it with both hands.

  “You are a deplorable human being! Oh, you sit here and tell me she came to you! To you! She needs nothing from you!”

  “Mrs. Fontaine-" my father started again, powerless.

  “I will not listen to any more of this! Take me to Adrienne or I will have you both arrested!”

  I looked helplessly to my fat
her for guidance, but he had none.

  The nerve of this woman enraged me. How many times could she possibly accuse me of abusing Adrienne? “Adrienne is a grown woman, fully capable of making her own decisions! If she chose to leave your family, she had her reasons.”

  “How dare you!” Angelique hissed each word separately. “You know nothing! She was happy before you came down and waved all that fancy in her face! She may be a grown woman, but she is obviously not capable of making a rational decision.”

  “Lady, she called me!”

  Angelique reared back, but my father interceded. “Enough! This is going nowhere.” He looked at me now. “We can easily clear this up by talking to Adrienne herself.”

  “No,” I said. “Absolutely not.”

  Angelique’s mouth opened again, but her daughter was tugging on her arm. “Oz, please,” my father entreated. “You are right, she is a grown woman. No one can make her do anything she doesn’t want to do. Angelique and Anne simply need reassurance she is okay. That you didn’t kidnap her.” He seemed to choke on his words. “And then they can return home, and we can end this.”

  “Oh no! No! No, you don’t!” Angelique was howling again. “Don’t condescend to me, Mr. Sullivan. She is coming home with us, and your son is not going to prevent this from happening!”

  I couldn't stop my eyes from rolling. “You are something else. Adrienne has never said an unkind word about any of you, and now I’m in complete admiration of her kindness and self-control.”

  “Colin,” warned my father.

  “No, I’m sorry, but I don't want this woman in my home, Dad. She is obviously-“ I chose my words carefully here, “unsettled at the moment.”

  Angelique threw her arms into the air. “Oh, she's at your home! You’re a bold kidnapper!”

  “Mother, please,” Anne whispered. She tugged at her mother’s arm in frustration.

  I suddenly realized why Angelique looked familiar. She was the woman at the bar in Abbeville; the one I suspected of drugging my drink.

  My father closed his eyes for a moment, then said, “Colin, if you don’t do this, then I am going to do it for you.”

  I took a deep breath. “Fine.”

  Anne drove with me and my father took Angelique. I tried to strike up conversation with Anne, but she closed herself off. It occurred to me the person she reminded me of was Lucie Deschanel. The resemblance was striking.

  Anne and I arrived first, and I pushed ahead to give Adrienne some warning, however small. I ran into the house, calling out her name. When she didn’t respond, I went into the bedroom to find her.

  The bed was made, and her bag was gone. No note, no warning. Completely gone.

  No. I refused to believe she left.

  “Adrienne!” I yelled hopelessly, running from room to room, knowing in my heart she was gone, maybe for good.

  This was my fault! She had been trying to tell me something at Ophélie. She trusted me to understand I couldn’t question her need, only accept it and help her. Instead I chose to be rational; to be more like my father.

  The three were waiting when I came downstairs. My father looked disappointed and crestfallen. Angelique, conversely, appeared pleased and vindicated.

  “So she’s run away from you!” Angelique trembled with fury. Her balled fists punched her thighs. “You will not get away with this!” she screamed again. My father asked Anne to please escort her out to his car.

  We could still hear her fuming as she flew down the stairs. After they were gone, my father tried to reason with me, “Son, these ladies are not going away anytime soon. If you know where Adrienne is, now would be a good time to say so.”

  It was my turn to lose it. Adrienne was gone, and there was no indication of where, or how I could find her. And this woman, Angelique, would stop at nothing. I started to lose my breath. My father sat me down and tried to calm me.

  “Dad, I have no idea! She was here this morning when I left, and now she’s gone.” I buried my face in my hands. “She came to me asking for my help and secrecy. When I came to the office today, I was going to tell you everything, all of it. I can’t live like this anymore; I only wanted to help her!”

  “We’ll get to the bottom of this.” He rubbed his hand across my shoulders as I sat in agony.

  Yet somehow, despite my father’s comforting promise, I knew things could get much worse. Everything that happened in the last two weeks was connected. Nothing was a coincidence.

  I didn’t know what that connection was, but I knew I was in trouble and so was Adrienne.

  * * *

  IT WAS AROUND five that evening when I was summoned to the police station for questioning. Upon arrival they assured me they were not formally charging me with anything, and I was only there so they could ask me some questions. I knew Angelique Fontaine had quite a different idea in mind.

  I was led to a gray cement room, taking a seat in a hard metal folding chair across from two officers. My father sat next to me.

  “He doesn’t need a lawyer,” the first officer, a young blonde man, said to him.

  “Yet,” finished the other, a man slightly older and hardened.

  “I’m not here as his counsel. I’m his father.”

  They exchanged looks and the first officer offered us both a glass of water.

  They asked me the kinds of questions I would have expected them to ask, such as how I perceived Adrienne’s frame of mind during the visit, and the last time I saw her. They asked if at any time I forced her to remain with me, to which I replied with an emphatic no. They also asked if I indirectly threatened her if she tried to leave, to which I also said no. The list of questions continued, most around the nature of my relationship with Adrienne. I answered them as best as I could without betraying her confidences on anything. I didn’t know where she was. Her leaving was as much a shock to me as anyone else.

  My father shifted in his seat as I answered. His behavior made me more nervous than the two officers.

  After an hour, they seemed satisfied and told me I was free to go. My father handled the necessary small talk with the officers and we left.

  On the drive home, he said very little.

  The confusion I felt earlier had fallen away. Angelique showing up unexpectedly reminded me that Adrienne was the victim here, and the one who needed someone on her side.

  * * *

  MY FATHER TOLD me wearily we would discuss everything in the morning, and dropped me off at home without another word.

  The first thing I did was scan the house again for any signs of a note that I might have overlooked earlier. There was nothing.

  Strangely, Solange had come by when I was at the station, and left a casserole warming for me in the oven, apparently having decided her vacation was over. I knew I should eat, but I wasn’t hungry. I felt a twinge of guilt as I turned off the oven, and put the casserole in the fridge.

  When I turned around, someone was standing in the doorway, right hand stretched above his head, body cocked arrogantly to one side.

  Nicolas was home.

  “Ozzy,” he said, as his face stretched into a slow smile.

  “Nic,” I returned, and also smiled. “You never did like to knock.”

  * * *

  MINUTES LATER, HE was devouring Solange’s casserole. “I’m fucking starving!” he declared in place of pleasantries.

  “Happy to see you too,” I responded.

  “I might have to steal this chick,” Nicolas mumbled, as he inhaled his dinner. “Sometimes I think Condoleezza is trying to poison me.”

  “Eat all you want. I’m not hungry.”

  He shrugged as if to say, your loss.

  “When did you get back?” I asked.

  Nicolas looked up. “Please tell me what you’ve been doing with my sister.” His voice was quick, composed, but not hiding his dissatisfaction.

  “I don’t feel like talking about it.” I was exhausted and I didn’t feel like getting into it all over again. At th
at moment I didn’t care he was still processing the news his beloved sister was alive. I had been there, done that, and was ready to move on.

  “Your Uncle Rory told me what happened.”

  “What exactly did he tell you? That everyone in Louisiana has gone completely mad?”

  He shook his head at me. I wanted to say more but my focus was alternately narrow and scattered. Everything was floating around, unattached and unimportant.

  “Have you seen her?” I ventured to ask.

  “Yes, this morning.”

  “So you know everything then, her memory loss, her accident?”

  “Yes, yes.”

  “And your thoughts?” I realized the error of the question the moment it left my tongue. My therapist mantra was weak: “And how does that make you feel?”

  “Well fuck Oz, I don’t know. I guess I’m pretty fucking excited my dead sister has come back to life.”

  “I’m sorry. Don’t listen to anything I say right now.”

  Nicolas smiled then, and seemed his old self again. “I love you Ozzy, you know this, but you need to pull your head out of your ass. What did you honestly expect would happen?”

  I nodded, but said nothing. Nicolas went on. “For once in your life, stop being so goddamned naïve and trusting of people! Stand up for yourself! And above all…. stay away from my sister. She has always brought bad luck with her and you’ve already been burned by it once. Don’t be an asshole and let it happen twice.”

  I realized I had misinterpreted his initial annoyance with me.

  “Where is she Nic?”

  “Ozzy-“

  “Please. I need to know.”

  He put down his fork and stuck his tongue under his upper lip, as he always did before he was about to say something he wanted to be heard well. “You know where she is. But nothing good can come of this.”

  He said this, and I heard it well, but we both knew as soon as he left, I would go to her. Nicolas smiled sadly in acknowledgement of his expected defeat and squeezed my forearm.