Deadly Curses

by Donna Shields

  Jackson and Fred turned to one another. Fred raised a brow. But before he could speak, Jackson held up a hand. He turned back to Ciarra. “How so?”

  “Judge Reynolds and Leon Borque die suddenly. Both appear to be natural causes. Kiyana Montreuil is Haitian. The bones are used to create spells and curses in Voodoo.”

  Fred placed his hands on his hips. “Voodoo? Really?”

  “Yes. She dug up their relatives’ graves and used the finger bone to place a curse on each of them. And I believe the solicitor and the doctor are next, if not already cursed.”

  “I’d like to see that one proved in court.”

  Ciarra’s gut tightened. She hadn’t expected Fred to immediately be on board with the theory. She was more worried about Jackson.

  Jackson moved away from the group and walked toward a parking lot light pole twenty feet away. He turned around and made his way back while looking at Ciarra. “As insane as it sounds, it makes some sense.”

  Fred piped in. “Have you gone mad?”

  “No. Now just stop for one second and throw your Christian belief out the window. The only two links these men have in common are the finger bones missing and Mrs. Montreuil. Normally, we have people shooting, stabbing, poisoning, hit and runs, etcetera. But not in these cases.”

  Fred pinched the skin between his eyes. “All right. So the lady is out for revenge. How the hell is the cause of death natural, Pacelli?”

  “That I don’t know. In the meantime, the Captain is allowing Rick and I to stand guard at least for the night with the doctor here at the hospital.”

  Jackson took out his keys. “We are going to find the solicitor and do the same or at the very least surveillance outside his home. In the morning, we will begin hunting down Mrs. Montreuil. We heard the APB for her over the radio.”

  “Thanks, Jackson. Now I have to go convince Dr. Moore to allow us to hang out for the night.”

  As Jackson and Fred headed off, Ciarra and Rick headed inside the emergency room entrance. Rick walked up to the check in desk and asked for Dr. Moore.

  “Well, he is with patients at the moment.”

  Ciarra flashed her badge. “When he gets finished up with the one he is currently with.” Ciarra pointed across the room where Dr. Moore was helping an elderly lady off the bed and to her feet. “Of course, unless there is a true emergency. But it is rather important.”

  The lady stood. “I will let him know.”

  Ciarra observed as the lady approached the doctor as he emerged from the room escorting the elderly woman to the nurses’ station. His gaze searched as she pointed toward Ciarra and Rick. Those gorgeous blues locked onto her eyes. A scowl ever so brief was followed by a wide grin. He held up a finger indicating to give him a moment. Her heart skipped a beat. She smiled.

  After a few moments, he entered the nearly empty waiting area. He motioned Ciarra and Rick to follow him. Once in the hallway, he asked, “To what do I owe the honor of this visit?”

  The doctor would not be happy. Ciarra knew what was coming. “Dr. Moore, we are here to watch over you. You are under protective custody until further notice.”

  His nostrils flared, and his eyes tightened as he scowled at her. “I don’t think so.” He started to walk away and then turned back. “What the hell makes you an authority to tell me I’m in any sort of custody? Protective? From whom?”

  “My Captain has agreed there are enough indications that your life may be in jeopardy.”

  “From whom?” he repeated. “Does this have anything to do with you telling me about a curse?”

  “Yes. Now listen—”

  “You are crazy.” The doctor paced the tiled floor. “You are unbelievable.”

  “I’m unbelievable? I’m the one who saved you from being run over. I’m here to once again save you from some real lunatic who wants you dead. We are not leaving. We are under orders to protect you, and that is exactly what we are going to do.”

  He looked from Ciarra to Rick, who had his arms crossed over his shoulders. He looked back at Ciarra. “Stay out of my way. If you interfere in my job here, I will have you removed.”

  “We won’t as long as you are safe and breathing. Is there an extra bed one of us can crash in?”

  The doctor pointed down the hall. “Room 9A. It’s our overflow room.” He turned and marched behind the nurses’ station.

  Whether or not the doctor liked it, he was stuck with Ciarra and Rick for the night. “Rick, you go get some sleep. I’ll take the first round with Dr. Happy.”

  Rick laughed. “Good luck, Pacelli. Wake me up in six hours. Then it’s time for your beauty rest.” He saluted her and laughed again as he moved toward the overflow room.

  Ciarra stood in the hall watching the doctor move from room to room. She noticed he didn’t just go into a room and blow right back out. He stayed in with each patient for well over fifteen minutes. There didn’t seem to be any life and death emergencies though. From her count over the first two hours were five patients with various illnesses save one who had a broken arm. During this time, she researched databases to find Kiyana Montreuil’s last known address. And of course, it was the one Ciarra and Rick already checked.

  The doctor came out of his last patient’s room and told the nurse at the desk he was going down to the cafeteria for a coffee.

  Ciarra closed her laptop and followed. He turned around and rolled his eyes. She didn’t give a rip what he thought of her. Her job was to ensure he stayed alive. Maybe this crazy woman would be dumb enough to show her face.

  They arrived at the elevators and he motioned her in first. When the doors closed, he spoke with sarcasm. “Nice to see I’m being escorted. Are you enjoying your new babysitting job?”

  “Sure. I’m not going anywhere. So complain all you want. It’s falling on deaf ears.”

  He shrugged as the bell dinged indicating they had arrived on the basement level. The doors opened and he stepped off.

  She let out a deep sigh as she followed him as he made his way down the empty hall toward the elevator.

  What was causing her to be so irritable today? The doctor ogled her every chance he got as if she were prime rib. But, she didn’t believe he would ever look at her quite the same anymore. Not after she had announced he’d been cursed.

  That was fine with her.

  He sure wasn’t hard on the eyes though. Not a bad looking ass either. What in the hell was wrong with her?

  Jack.

  She would not ever love another man again. There was only Jack . . . his beautiful smile . . . his kissable lips.

  She was horny. That was it, that was why she couldn’t take her eyes off of Doctor Slam-You-In-The-Chest Sexy. Her libido was the culprit. She hadn’t been with another man in nine months. Even though Jack had insisted to move on with her life after he was gone, she swore to him on his deathbed she would never be with another man. But alcohol and sexy looking strange men in hip-hopping bars who were not looking for anything other than a one-night stand didn’t mix well.

  It was becoming apparent a sexy doctor needing her protection was becoming very appealing as well.

  Doctor Sexy was now her enemy-of-sorts. She had to protect him, but she didn’t have to do anything else.

  “Earth to detective. Are you still here with us?”

  Doctor Moore had stopped and turned around in the middle of the damn hall. She ran into him, saving herself by putting her hands up to stop the forward motion and touching his rock hard chest. Sparks surged up her arms. She pulled away. “Huh?”

  “Wow. You blush easily.” He grinned as if he won some great battle.

  Ciarra rolled her eyes. “I am not blushing.” On instinct, she touched her cheeks, the warmth of them an indicator she was indeed red.

  Doctor Moore cleared his throat. “Are you hungry?”

  Yeah, hungry for you to wrap those God awful tremendous, muscular arms around me and pin me to the freaking wall!

  She had to stop. Maybe she needed to wak
e her partner while she took a nap.

  That’s exactly what she’d do.

  She pulled out her cell. “No, thank you. I’m going to make a quick call.” If only she could just slow her heart rate down.

  “After your call, you can attempt to explain to me about curses.”

  She turned her back on the doctor and speed dialed Rick, but didn’t get an answer. “Rick, I bet you turned your ringer off, huh? Well isn’t that just dandy. If you happen to get this message, find me down in the cafeteria.” She would just have to go upstairs and give him a good shake.

  But, she knew he had to get some sleep so she could rest up later in the early morning hours.

  She turned around, only to find an empty hallway. Where the hell did he go? Several feet ahead, a plaque mounted to the wall gave directions: Cafeteria to the left. Elevators, Supply room, Maintenance room, and the Morgue to the right.

  He was going to the cafeteria. She walked through the propped open door and scanned the large room. No sign of her doctor.

  He’s not yours.

  How did he get a coffee so quick? She had to make her way back to the emergency room again. Following the sign toward the elevator, she noticed a room on the right beyond the elevator.

  MORGUE

  Raising a hand, she placed it on the door. Not a place she’d like to be. Flashbacks of the night Jack died flickered. Her own body had dropped to the icy tile when the doctor pronounced her sweet Jack dead. The love of her life lying on the cold metal slab beyond this door when she rushed down to say goodbye one final time before the funeral home director had come to receive his body.

  She moved away from the door and took a step in the right direction. The hair on her neck stood up, the goose bumps rising on her arms. It seemed like it was just yesterday. Why did she even come this way? She should have walked away the instant she saw the sign.

  A hand clamped down on her shoulder, and she screamed.

  Trent had damn near given Ciarra a heart attack. He stroked her back. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s only me.” How did she scare so easily? She was a cop for crying out loud. It was obvious to Trent there was more going on.

  Her body shuddered uncontrollably. Her hands rose to cover an escaped sob.

  He grabbed her and pulled her into his arms. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know you’d react like this.” He breathed in the scent of fresh strawberry as he set his chin on top of her head.

  Ciarra shoved him into the wall. “What the hell were you doing?”

  His hands raised in defense. “Trying to . . . well I have no clue. I guess that wasn’t the way to put a smile on your face.”

  “I would say not.”

  “Did I really frighten you?”

  She blinked back the tears and swallowed hard. “No, just some bad memories.”

  I am a jackass. Plain and simple. He glanced at the nameplate on the door. Someone close to her had died. What was wrong with him? He hadn’t meant to be harmful. It was a little scare, which had been a childish idea. Hindsight was twenty-twenty after all. “Seriously, I am real sorry. Do you want to talk about it?”

  She shook her head. “You have a degree in psychology too?”

  He spotted the little curl to the corner of her lips. “No, definitely not.” His cell buzzed. “Hello?”

  “Doctor Moore?” the female voice questioned.

  “Yes.”

  “Doctor Trent Moore?”

  “Who is this?”

  Ciarra’s eyes widened at him. He shrugged.

  “I’m very pleased to know you will be gone from this world within a week’s time.”

  Trent’s heart skipped a beat. “Who the hell are you? How did you get this number?”

  Ciarra pointed to his phone and mouthed ‘speaker’. He hit the button.

  “That does not matter anymore now. You’ve been warned.” The line went dead.

  Ciarra grabbed the cell out of his hand. “That was a Haitian accent. Damn, no number.” She handed it back to him. “I need to get a trace on it.”

  He grabbed her hand and tugged. “We’re going to the cafeteria right now, and you are going to fill me in.”

  “What about the ER?”

  He speed dialed the nurses’ station. “Elly, how are things up there? Can you spare me for another ten to fifteen minutes?” The nurse informed him it was slow. If she needed him, she would page him.

  They grabbed a couple of coffees and made their way to a secluded table after Ciarra made a call into the station to see if one of their IT techs could get a trace on where the call had originated from.

  As Ciarra sat down, she stated, “You don’t believe in curses, doctor. What’s there to explain?”

  “Try me, detective.”

  She took a sip of the coffee. “Plain and simple, it’s Voodoo.”

  Chapter 5

  The prepaid cell phone landed in the overflowing dumpster with a soft thud. Kiyana wasn’t worried about making noise. Back here with the old heater unit running, she doubted anyone would hear a gun go off much less a clanking of a phone.

  Her mother’s landlord seemed to pay for his responsibilities only when he was forced to. The dumpster, for example, hadn’t been emptied in well over a month. With twenty families and the smallest dumpster to be found, it made for the wretched mess consuming and stinking up the back alley. Water had been shut off here on more than one occasion with the tenants raising all kinds of threats against the slumlord. She prayed every night Momma would move from this place and go back to Haiti. Momma said America had so much more opportunities. But, had they lived in Haiti, this would have never happened. Her husband, Eduardo, argued with her all the time. He would never bring the children back to live in poverty. How she’d love to spit in his eye, but she’d never disrespect her husband in such a way.

  She wanted to go up and see Momma and check to see if she had all she needed, but Kiyana couldn’t. She had to keep her distance not wanting the old woman involved in her plan. She’d made the mistake of thinking Momma was as angry with Liam’s death as she was. Kiyana never should have told her about the curses. Momma tried talking her out of it. ‘I will disown you if you bring harm to anyone.’ That threat hadn’t worked. Her momma would never disown her own blood.

  “Oh Momma,” she spoke aloud, “take care of my three precious children when this is done. Love them well.”

  She stuck her hands in her pockets as she moved deeper into the alleyway where she could exit on the other side without anyone spotting her. Kiyana held back a sob as she raised the hood over her head. She would be with her precious little Liam before too long anyway.

  A couple of metaphysical stores resided in her mother’s neighborhood. While she was down here, she hoped to find a remedy more potent for the constant pain since her current one was no longer effective. Functioning became much harder these last few days. Harder still was keeping the children from realizing how painful this disease really was. Her eldest knew, and it tortured her day in and day out. He shouldn’t have to be burdened with her wretched sickness, since she had brought this on herself.

  Moving along these streets took longer than she had anticipated. After being out the last couple of hours and with no luck at either store, she shuffled along finding a corner café to rest her tiring body.

  Not feeling hungry, she ordered a salad and some rolls hoping it would give her the energy needed to continue back to the bus stop . . . providing she could keep any of the food down.

  What would become of her children once she was gone? The question gnawed at her night and day, forcing her to acknowledge, if only to herself, she had a choice back when she started this curse. Of course, they would have their father, but it wasn’t the same as a mother’s love.

  But, no one would have paid for Liam’s death, only Liam and her family. She could only pray that her children would come to understand the sacrifice she had to make and why.

  She’d managed to eat one roll plus one-half of another one, and three-four
ths of the salad. Kiyana paid for her meal, placing the bills on top of the sales slip. She stood up feeling a little better. As she turned, she bumped into a tall, handsome man.

  “I’m so sorry, Cherie. I need to pay better attention.” He tipped his black, fancy hat toward her.

  His hazel eyes shone and for a few seconds, Kiyana was transfixed. He blinked, and she shook her head. This man was dangerous. It oozed from him. She had her gift and saw nothing but blackness there. As if he were dead . . .

  “Pardon me, sir. It was my fault for not looking where I was going. Good day.” She hustled out toward the door and left, needing to make the bus stop in time and to get away from that man’s presence. If she were to miss the bus, she’d sit out in the chilly weather for another half hour waiting for the next one. And she didn’t want to be where this man would find her again.

  Finding her way up to Main Street, she rounded the corner and a gold glint caught her eye across the street. The large crescent moon painted on the window in gold and the name, Moonstarz, was enough information for Kiyana to know this was another metaphysical store.

  How had she missed this one? She approached the curb, waiting for her turn to cross. A surge of strength coursed through her. Once on the other side, she neared the storefront window displaying a few books, a small variety of oils, and a witch’s hat on top of a black stuffed cat.

  As she peered in, her vision caught a young blond man on a step stool, pulling items down off the top shelves and dusting.