Deadly Curses

by Donna Shields

“Please.” She lowered her voice. “Just ten. I have to give him something, or he’s going to kill me.”

  “Get in the car, and I will take you to a rehab.”

  Crystal shook her head. “You know I can’t. Please, Detective P.” Tears wet her cheeks.

  The light changed to green. Ciarra yanked out a twenty and handed it to her. “No more. Not until you get help.” She drove the car down the road, leaving the woman in the middle of the street.

  “Why would you give her money?”

  “Doc, sometimes I can’t help myself.”

  “This only enables her. She uses?”

  Ciarra remained silent.

  “You can’t change those people. Only when they want to help themselves are they worth the effort. If you go a couple more lights, you turn onto Landing Avenue. My condo’s down on the right.”

  Ciarra drove past his street and continued for another couple blocks. Then she braked hard and jerked the wheel, turning down a side road.

  He had no clue where she was heading. But it wasn’t to his condo. “You should’ve turned back there like I told you, detective.”

  “Oh, are you giving the orders now? I think not. We’re going on a short field trip. You are in need of enlightening.”

  “For what purpose?” He viewed her profile and noted the arched brow. “Are you talking about me being . . . what did you call me last night? Oh yes, I do believe you called me a snot.”

  “Exactly. You need to be knocked off that pedestal you put yourself so damn high on.”

  He shifted his body toward her. “I’ve never been down to the damn docks because I had no reason to go down there. I see the poor people who come through the ER all the time. The majority of them are the drug addicts, or the ones who are looking for a warm bed for a few hours.”

  “What’s wrong with needing a bed?”

  “Christ, Ciarra. They come in with these supposed symptoms they don’t have, causing us to chase our tails when we have actual emergencies.”

  Ciarra pulled the car over in between warehouse buildings. “I understand that.”

  “No, you really don’t. Do you want to know why the little boy died? One of your charity drug cases came in the ER that night claiming to have chest pains, hunched over. I was one of the only two ER doctors on because of the massive shortages due to the storm. Some roads were impassable that night. Hard to get extra hands in there.” He placed his face into his hands. “I didn’t have enough time or hands. The boy needed a surgeon, and the nurses were doing the best they could, trying like hell to control the bleeding while waiting on the surgical unit. I attended to the old man. The other doctor got slammed at the last second with a car wreck. By the time I read the old man’s EKG printout and realized he wasn’t having a heart attack, the boy was pretty much gone. So please try to forgive me for not caring too damn much for the ones out on the streets who put themselves there to begin with.”

  Ciarra stared at him. She undid her seat belt and leaned over. “I didn’t know. That sounds horrible. But, you need to understand some of these people aren’t out here because of something they did. Come with me.”

  He raised his hands to his mouth in an attempt to pretend fear. “Are you going to protect me?”

  She smiled. “Come on you scaredy-cat.”

  She climbed out and headed for her trunk, removing a couple of grocery bags. Trent’s heart skipped a beat when he looked inside the one he grabbed and found canned and boxed food. She cared for these people.

  “When did you have time to stop and grab food?”

  “The bags have been sitting in here for a couple of days. I was supposed to bring these down here yesterday. Needless to say, I didn’t make it.”

  Trent felt a twinge of guilt rising in his gut as they walked around the rear of the warehouse toward a smaller building. At the back, three large bay doors stood wide open with people of various ages huddled in groups around a couple of metal drums, ashes from the fire inside crackling out the top.

  Ciarra whispered, “These are the homeless. Not because they chose to be, nor because they are dead beats. Not even because they are on drugs. They are down on their luck, struggling to get out of the cold and dig up food from the dumpsters when they can’t reach the soup kitchen a couple miles to the north.”

  Trent’s stomach lurched into his throat at the sight of the babies and young children wrapped in thin torn blankets with only socks on their little feet. “Why?”

  “Why are they here?” Ciarra pointed at the building. “Why don’t you go and ask? They don’t bite.”

  Trent didn’t want to. But, the question wouldn’t leave his mind. He walked up to a young woman. She couldn’t have been more than twenty-two if he had to guess. She held a baby wrapped in a thin wool blanket close to her chest. “Excuse me, ma’am. Why are you here?”

  Her eyes bore into his. It was apparent she was offended by the question. “Why do you care?”

  “I guess I don’t understand why you don’t have a home.”

  “The same reason as most of them. I was laid off from my job last year. The unemployment ran out. I don’t get enough on welfare to pay for a rent and the waiting list for housing help is over two years long. I have no family. It’s only me and Gabrielle here.”

  “What about the shelters?”

  “What about them? If you don’t make the line by three o’clock, you don’t get in, baby or no baby.”

  Trent took in what she said, realizing the full scope of her and the baby living out on the street. Why did he suddenly feel the need to take care of the two of them? What struck him? It didn’t matter. This was his chance. He could do something good here. “What’s your name?”

  She adjusted the child huddling her closer to her chest. “Lisa Jennings. And who are you?”

  “I’m Dr. Moore. Trent. I work at Acadia Memorial Hospital.”

  “If you’ll excuse me, I need to get Gabby back over there in the corner out of the cool air.”

  Trent shrugged off his long coat. “Here.” He wrapped it around the woman as she placed one arm and then the next, moving the baby from one side to the other. The coat engulfed both her and the baby. “What job did you have before this?”

  “I was a mill worker down at Hargrove’s. Why?”

  He held up a finger to her. “Give me one minute. I have an idea.”

  Trent walked out of the garage and dialed information. He obtained Hargrove’s phone number and called. “My name is Dr. Trent Moore. I am looking for the supervisor at the mill. May I speak to him or her?”

  “We have several, sir.”

  “I need to talk to whoever was the supervisor for a lady named Lisa Jennings.”

  “And what is the nature of your call?”

  “Employee verification.”

  “Hold for one minute.”

  Trent didn’t take his eyes off the young mother, hoping she wouldn’t bolt because of his questioning. As long as her story checked out . . .

  “John Blake speaking. How can I help you?” The stern voice questioned.

  “Mr. Blake, I would like to ask about a former employee of yours. Were you Lisa Jennings supervisor?”

  “Why are you asking? And who are you?”

  “I’m a doctor here at Acadia Memorial and would like to verify her employment and how good of an employee she was?”

  “Yes, of course.” Mr. Blake’s voice softened.

  Trent questioned the man on the young mother’s performance and attendance. The supervisor gave her a glowing report. “I wish I didn’t have to let her go, but I don’t make the rules, you know?”

  “I do now. Thank you for your time.”

  Trent made one more phone call to his brother and returned, waving the young mother to his side. He didn’t want the others to hear. If he could save all of them, he would. But right now, it was one at a time. “Lisa, how would you feel about working for me and living on a farm?”

  Her blue eyes grew wide, and then they narrowed.
“Come again?”

  “Seriously, my family owns a farm out in the country. Do you like gardening?”

  “I . . . um . . . I never tried it before.”

  “Here’s what I have in mind. My sister-in-law will teach you what you need to know. You’ll tend to the garden and clean the house and cook dinner. Can you cook?”

  “Yes, it’s the one thing I’m good at.”

  Trent spotted the twinkling in her eyes. He couldn’t help but grin. “All right. You do this in exchange for a room and board in the farmhouse for you and your baby and some extra money. We’ll work out the details in the morning after a good night’s sleep in a warm bed. How does that sound?”

  Lisa took a step back. “How do I know I can trust you?”

  Ciarra appeared at his side. “It’s okay, hon. You can trust him.”

  “Are you sure, Detective Pacelli?”

  “Yes.” Ciarra never took her eyes off of Trent. “I’ll even drive you there.”

  “Please don’t be offended, Lisa. But I have to ask. Do you have a criminal background of any sort?” Ciarra could verify if Trent needed her to.

  “No, sir.”

  Ciarra stepped in. “Trent, trust me. She doesn’t have any criminal history. I’ve known her since she’s been down here. She is no trouble. Go grab your stuff, Lisa.”

  While the young mom gathered up her backpack, a diaper bag, and her child, Ciarra moved close to Trent standing on her tiptoes, drew his head down toward hers, and kissed him.

  Trent stood in front of Ciarra unable to move. His pulse quickened. His muscles tightened as the tingling traveled throughout his body. He opened his eyes finding Ciarra staring at him with that gorgeous smile of hers. She caressed his cheek and kissed his lips one more time before pulling away.

  “What was that for?”

  With a husky voice, she responded, “I didn’t believe you had a heart beating in the steel chest of yours.”

  Trent laughed. “I didn’t either. Strange. It’s kind of mushy inside.” He drew her into his embrace. “Does that earn me another one of those sweet kisses?”

  She pushed playfully at his chest giving him a shove and walked away. He didn’t believe she took him serious. But, boy he was seeing her in a whole new light. He was too afraid to take that leap though.

  Kiyana shuffled along the alley. She’d been told a while back that there was a man down here on the docks who was a shaman. Kiyana was looking for a little more time to stay alive to ensure all four men paid. She hoped a shaman could provide healing energy, which may or may not give her those few precious days she needed.

  As she emerged from the alley, she spotted the doctor on call that night. The one who didn’t save her son. She moved as quickly as she could back into the alley and found a side door leading into the warehouse where there were several others. She stayed in the shadows.

  A Voodoo priest had once said it was easy to manipulate another’s mind, and one could get the person to do whatever he or she wanted. She recalled exactly how to attempt it. It would drain her, but she had to at least try. She spotted one man whose aura seemed dark and weak. So she began.

  Kiyana put what little energy she had into controlling the man’s mind. Knowing she had only one shot and not much left for strength, she’d planned her escape while lurking, waiting for her chance after spotting the doctor.

  She grew weaker with each coming day, the cancer eating at her insides. She wasn’t so sure she’d be able to fulfill the required seven days it took for the curse to be successful. It was indeed wondrous how fate lined her up to be near here when the doctor and a woman showed up. Seeing the doctor’s wretched face caused her stomach to tighten. She opened and closed her fists several times to keep herself in check. She had to stay strong or this would never work.

  “Focus, all it takes is focus,” Kiyana mumbled to herself. “You didn’t save my baby. So now I shall hurt you too, Doctor Moore. We shall see who wins in the end—when you die.”

  The pathetic loner’s mind she chose to control was indeed weak, so easy to manipulate. Much easier than any of the others who stood around here. Attacking the doctor to the ground, the loner wrapped his skinny, long fingers around the doctor’s neck and squeezed. Kiyana could almost feel the doctor’s neck pulse speeding up as he struggled for air. His face turned crimson and his eyes widened as he attempted to loosen the loner’s grip.

  The woman knocked the loner to the ground causing Kiyana to bend at the waist and lose all connection with him. As she tried catching her breath, Kiyana realized this woman was the detective investigating the grave robbing. At least that’s what the news was calling it.

  Kiyana let out a weak giggle. It’s not like she took the whole body, only a finger. Those people weren’t going to miss them anyway. She wobbled as she straightened up. It was time to leave.

  Kiyana moved back to the shadows and out the side door, disappearing through the abandoned building across the alleyway.

  Ciarra had been angry as hell at him for his comments about the homeless. But, she’d witnessed his heart coming alive as he offered Lisa and her baby a place to live and a job. In one grand gesture, he had forever changed two precious lives. How could she not like him?

  The kiss was risky, but it ended up being well worth it. For once, the doctor had been speechless. She was sure he was teasing her when he’d spoken of feeling all mushy inside. But maybe he hadn’t been teasing. He had kissed her passionately inside the closet at the hospital. Or was that just in the heat of the moment for him? She smiled. Maybe he wasn’t such an asshole after all.

  Ciarra walked over to her car and unlocked it. She moved her papers off the back seat and placed them in the trunk. Lisa would not have a car seat for the baby. How would she transport the baby without one? The hospital had to have some. She walked back over to where just a moment before, Trent had been waiting.

  “Hey, doc, do you think the hospital would have a car seat we might be able to borrow?” As she rounded the dumpster, she spotted an older man in a torn sports coat with his hands wrapped around Trent’s throat. She couldn’t make out who straddled Trent’s chest at first. Ciarra charged at him, knocking the man to the ground. She yanked his hands behind his back and cuffed them. Dragging him off the ground, she spun him around. She looked into the face of Acre Hills’ former Mayor, Hal Pippins. “What the hell is your problem?”

  “Why did you cuff me? I don’t understand. Why are you attacking me?” He struggled to move away, but Ciarra yanked him back.

  She couldn’t believe this man who used to run the ritzy beachside town would attack a single soul. What would cause him to become violent out of the blue? Unless he finally resorted to drugs. “Don’t you play stupid with me. You were assaulting this man.” She pointed to Trent lying on his side attempting to catch his breath. “Are you okay?”

  Trent sucked in a deep breath and said, “Yeah.”

  “I . . . I didn’t do anything. You’re crazy, lady.” He bowed his head and glanced back up a few seconds later. His eyes blinked rapidly. “Did I?” he questioned in an uncertain tone.

  What would cause a stranger to attack a man and have no recollection?

  Did this have anything to do with the curse? No one could control another person like a puppet, could they? She placed a call to Tiesha. She didn’t like what she’d heard.

  “So, you’re telling me this is possible?”

  “Oh absolutely. You do know in order for it to work, the curser would have to be within seeing distance of the person they are trying to control?”

  Ciarra’s heart skipped a beat. She spun around heading for the warehouse bay. “No.” Did that mean Kiyana been here moments before? “Do me a favor. Can you meet me at the doctor’s farm and bring Brutus along?” Her Rottweiler wouldn’t appreciate being left at home all night. She gave Tiesha the address.

  “You want a cleansing, don’t you?”

  Cleansing the home of evil spirits and protecting it and its occupants w
ould be a great start, even if most people found it crazy. “Yes. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” She thanked her best friend and hung up.

  Ciarra knew almost every person inside the bay doors. All seven familiar faces turned their attention to her as she spoke. “Anyone see a new person around here?”

  They collectively mumbled out “No.”. But then, another familiar face came out of the far corner. Ciarra hadn’t seen James, the young man who’d helped her scare off her brother the morning before, back there. “I did. It was a couple minutes ago. She didn’t see me though.”

  “Which way did she go?” Ciarra drew her gun.

  “She went out the side door over there.” He pointed to Ciarra’s right. “She wasn’t moving too fast.”

  Ciarra rushed out the door and down the narrow alley leading to the docks. She scanned both ways, but of course, no one was about. The woman could have gone either direction. She jogged down the right side of the docks and turned around jogging back down the left side. She found nothing.

  As Ciarra made her way back to the doctor and his attacker, her cell rang. She looked down at the caller ID. “Hey, Tiesha.”

  “I meant to tell you. Something real strange happened yesterday here at the shop.”

  “What?”

  “Well, before I opened in the morning, I had a strange feeling come over me. A dark foreboding. I placed a ward above the front door. While I was in back mediating, the presence of another washed over me and was trying to cross the threshold but couldn’t. When I made my way to the front of the store to see what was going on, there stood a woman just outside the door. The ward wasn’t allowing her entrance. When she saw me, she looked frightened and confused. Looked pretty ill also.”