He could sit here for hours transfixed, watching her rest. He had to tell her those three simple words. But they weren’t so simple. The last time he’d uttered ‘I love you,’ his heart had been stomped upon shortly thereafter.
But how could he go one more day without telling her he was in love with her? He might not have another day. He was becoming more tired along with the cough. Now was his chance while he still could. As soon as the enchanting detective woke up, he’d tell her.
He pushed back a lock of hair that had fallen across the bridge of her nose. She stirred and mumbled something.
“What was that, sweetie?”
With her eyes closed, she muttered, “Don’t go.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“Jack . . .” Her eyes popped open and she sat up. She looked at Trent. “Where am I?” She glanced around the small room and then back at Trent. She sucked in a couple of deep breaths and placed her face into her hands. “I’m sorry,” she murmured through them.
Trent, stunned by the realization that she’d been dreaming of her dead husband, pushed himself and the chair back. “You’re fine.”
Removing her hands, but not looking up, she spoke, “Jack was here.” She then finally met Trent’s eyes. “Well, not here like we are, but in my dream. He stood in the doorway and was crying.”
Trent didn’t want to hear about her dead husband. He’d never before in his life been jealous of another person. But he was now. He didn’t want to ask. He had no choice. Jack’s memory came along with the excellent package. “Why was he crying?”
“He doesn’t want me mourning him any longer. He came to me to say he was fine, and that he’d see me on the other side and in the meantime to stop being sad. To move on.”
Trent didn’t know what to say. Her dead husband spoke to her in a dream? He wouldn’t make light of it, but that just sounded crazy. This decision to move on was all on her. She would be the only one to convince herself it was time. And he had no intention of pushing her.
She looked down at her watch. “We need to get going. Is this my coffee? Thanks a million. I need it.”
Trent sighed and handed her the coffee. He thought for sure she’d say, ‘Yes, that’s what I’m going to do. Only with you.’ But, it didn’t matter. She had to know he loved her regardless.
The walk down to the car and the ride over to the café where they were meeting Sean Black was spent in silence. Why couldn’t he spit the damn words out? What was so hard about the three, one syllable words? He wanted to kick himself.
Ciarra pulled up to the café finding a close parking spot. Both got out and walked inside. They found a booth to the right of the entrance door against the large window a couple tables down. A waitress followed and took their order for two coffees.
“I’m sorry for earlier. You know, babbling on about my dream.”
He covered her hand with his. “It’s all right. It’s time I told you about Rachel.” And then, I can tell you I love you.
“Did she . . . you know?”
He fiddled with the napkin on the table. “No. She left me standing at the altar, looking like a complete jackass. See, she was like you, not a cop though. She came from high society with the silver spoon growing out of her mouth. Don’t get me wrong. She didn’t come off like a spoiled brat. She wanted to help the world one homeless person at a time. She’d said once we were married, she’d tell good ole Daddy that she wanted to open a free medical clinic and needed the funding. And I’d be the head doctor. She had convinced me she was so madly in love with me.”
The waitress returned with their coffees. Stirring in the cream, he continued, “Huge lies. All of it, even the rich part. She and her father were classic con artists. Lucky for me, the FBI were hot on their trail and somehow, the pair found out. They’d barely escaped the FBI’s grasp.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry.” Ciarra rubbed her hand across the top of his. “I’m beginning to get a clearer picture now.”
He looked up. “That was a long time ago. You know, it’s not so much fun having your wedding crashed by a bunch of feds.”
“It hurts, doesn’t it? Even though it was years ago.”
“Not really. I feel like a jackass for believing her.”
Ciarra glanced toward the front door. “Heads up. Here he comes.” Then she lowered her voice, “FYI, I’m not a con artist.” Then she grinned, that beautiful smile that radiated to his very soul.
Trent turned around. Mr. Black was full of himself this morning. He strutted his way toward their booth, sunglasses on and his chest stuck out. Was that a toothpick hanging out of his mouth? Trent laughed and covered his mouth with the back of his hand.
Ciarra smiled. “Behave.”
“Explain to me how I’m supposed to take this man seriously.”
Sean maneuvered around the two remaining tables between him and them. “Well, isn’t it interesting you would call me, detective?”
“Don’t get too happy.” Ciarra slid out of the booth and moved over to Trent’s side of the table. She held out her hand toward her original spot, motioning for the reporter to sit.
Sean slid in and propped his sunglasses on top of his head. “So, I’m intrigued. What do you want?”
“You have connections. And I need to find someone.”
His eyes moved to Trent. “Who are you?”
Before Trent could answer, Ciarra touched his arm. “That’s no matter to you.” She reached into her purse and pulled out a photograph. “This is Kiyana Montreuil. She’s missing, and I want her found.”
An eyebrow rose. “What do you mean, missing?”
“As in she doesn’t want to be found.”
“What is she wanted for? Who did she murder?”
“Again, it’s none of your business.” She crossed her arms across her chest.
Sean looked from Ciarra to Trent. He rubbed his chin. “What do I get in return?”
“A one hundred dollar reward.”
Trent glared at the little man, which must have made Black uncomfortable as he shook his head and turned to Ciarra. “No.”
“Why?”
“I don’t want money. I want to know what’s up.” He pulled out his cell phone and dialed. “Yeah, you close?”
What a rude little bastard. Why would Ciarra offer this jerk money? Hell, she needed to get rid of this slime ball. Trent would contact Lindsay. She had a nose far cleaner. “Ciarra, I don’t like this guy. Let’s find another way, like maybe my sister.”
Black hung up the phone. “Now, where were we?”
“Take the money, Sean.” Ciarra’s jaw was set, as if she were about to bite this moron’s head off.
“As I said, I don’t want the money. Who is this guy?” he motioned toward Trent. “And why do you need to find this woman?”
The flash outside their window caught Trent off guard. The woman with the camera darted across the street before Trent could get a good look at her. “What the hell?”
He met Trent’s glare. “Now, tell me who you are. I’ll know in a matter of minutes when my photographer calls me.”
“You little ass.” Ciarra stood and reached across the table.
Black quickly moved out of her grasp. “Watch it. Just tell me what’s going on.” Black’s cell rang. “What’s up?” He stared at Trent. “Really? Very interesting. Good job.” He closed his phone and extended his hand to Trent. “It’s nice to meet you, Doctor Moore.”
Trent moved to stand, but Ciarra grasped his arm. She never took her eyes off Black. “I knew I couldn’t trust you, Sean. You never could keep your word half the time.” She sighed and turned to Trent. “Let’s go. I can find someone—”
“Whoa. Wait a minute. I meant it when I said I wanted to change my life around. The picture is for insurance in case you can’t keep your word.”
Ciarra groaned, “When have I ever done you wrong? I’ve protected you more times than I can count.”
“Ciarra, I swear on Mammy’s soul—”
>
“Don’t you do that!” She slammed her hands down on the table in front of Black. Every head turned in their direction. Ciarra lowered her voice. “Don’t you bring our grandmother into this.”
What in the hell was going on? Who was Mammy?
“Okay. I want exclusive rights to the story. I will have an address by the end of the week.”
“We don’t have that long.” Ciarra looked at Trent. The tears brimmed at the surface.
Trent forgot about the little peon. He touched Ciarra’s cheek. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“You can’t say that.”
Sean sat back down. “Hold on, sis. What is going on?”
Trent’s head whipped in his direction. Sis?
“Please, just this once, I need you to believe me. We don’t have long. I need something this evening.”
“Hold up.” Trent’s hand went up in the air. “Did you call her sis?”
“Trent, I’ll explain after,” Ciarra replied.
Sean touched Ciarra’s hand. “All right. I’ll do my best.”
Chapter 14
Ciarra and Trent returned to his condo, so he could get some sleep. She promised an explanation about Sean Black and who he really was later on.
While Trent slept, Ciarra did some research on black magic. The mind control Tiesha had mentioned nagged Ciarra. It took the remainder of the morning and a good chunk of the afternoon weeding through all kinds of nonsense and waiting on responses via email. She hoped someone would come back with some sort of solution or explain what exactly had happened to carry the curses out.
Just when she wanted to give up, the Voodoo priestess Ciarra and Trent had visited called. Ciarra didn’t waste any time giving her information about the fingers missing and all that had come to pass.
When the woman with the heavy African accent explained to her what she believed had been used besides the fingers from the graves, Ciarra couldn’t figure how on earth it could be that. ‘Ash of the Dead’ put in someone’s food or drink, coupled with a specific spell, could open a hole in someone’s aura. It was the perfect way to allow negative energy into the victim’s mind, body and soul. This made it much easier to not only place the curse, but also how Kiyana must have been able to manipulate the ex-mayor’s mind down on the docks.
But, how could Kiyana have possibly been able to put the Ash of the Dead in the four victims’ food or drink? Then, Ciarra remembered what the manager of the taxi service had said about Delightful Eats.
She dialed Rick’s number. “Find out if Kiyana ever worked as a waitress at Delightful Eats. If so, were the judge or solicitor frequent customers?”
“Why?”
“I’ll explain after. Just a hunch.”
That could be it. But, Trent had said he’d never been there. So, how could she have gotten to his food or drink?
As the afternoon wore on, she hadn’t heard back from her partner. But the more she read on the subject, the more she was convinced Kiyana had done this to ensure the curse would hold. According to the website, no amount of reversal spells would work to break it. Which explained why the Voodoo priestess’ work hadn’t taken effect.
“I want to show you where I grew up,” Ciarra stated as they left his condo and drove back toward the cafe. She parked on a side street close by. Clutching his hand, she led the way down West Street. The sun was out. The temperature outside was warmer than the last couple of days, which meant the remaining snow would be gone soon.
“I want to know why good ol’ Sean called you ‘sis.”
“I’ll explain once we are there.”
West Street had its window shoppers along the sidewalks. The food vendors in their concession trucks attempted to sell anything from meatball subs to deep fried chicken. If Trent and Ciarra continued to walk this street for another mile, they’d stroll to the riverbank.
But, Ciarra steered him down a more narrow side street, and then another putting them at Lee Avenue. She turned right, and Trent followed along, having no clue where she might be heading.
Ciarra made a left down a narrow alley and turned right this one smaller than the last. As his eyes adjusted to the dimmed alleyway, he spotted people scattered sitting along the brick walls. A couple of fifty-five gallon drums with fires inside burned steadily. These were the homeless. Some were huddled around the fires, some tucked against the walls on top of what appeared to be garbage bags, and some had large cardboard boxes with blankets placed over the top.
Some came into the ER enough times only needing a warm place. He never witnessed them living out in the streets before meeting Ciarra. Rachel had only mentioned it from time to time and he never ventured out to see for himself. Trent would never dream of coming down here, fearing being robbed or worse.
But, these people glanced at him and Ciarra as they made their way past each one.
“This is where I lived for nearly two years.” She snorted, “I don’t know how I even made it that long.”
“On the streets here?”
“Yes. That’s why I know what these people are going through. I’ve been here. Bianca Rutherford gave birth to me and then dropped me on the steps of St Joseph’s Rectory. I was a huge mistake.” She began walking down the remainder of the alley coming out adjacent to St. Joseph’s church. She pointed to the building off to the right side of the church. “Those steps right there. I despised growing up in the orphanage. I realize now I was a difficult child. Didn’t want to be told about Jesus and how everything I did or said was a sin, especially when I caught one of the nuns who preached to me every day while screwing the delivery man.”
Trent didn’t say a word. He’d heard stories about a couple of the nuns at St. Joseph’s.
They crossed the street. She stopped along the sidewalk near the parking lot entrance. “I ran away straight across the street and into these alleys. The first couple of nights were scary. I was only fourteen. But, then I met Tiesha and didn’t feel so alone or frightened anymore.”
He rubbed his chest. The slow tightening made it hard to breathe. He sucked in a couple of deep breaths. “What got you off the streets?”
Ciarra eyed his hand. “I had a decision to make. The street life had been getting rough. Local gangs vying with the drug dealers for fresh meat. When I was to the point of readying myself to steal food, I knew I had a choice to make. Join one of them or jump in the Runaway Project van. I didn’t want to be any type of drug addict or steal or continue begging and peddling for food. Plus, I was getting a rep with the cops for shoplifting and such. I was so tired and hungry. By then, Tiesha had already made the smart decision to go to the Runaway Project’s doorsteps months before. So, I jumped in the van.”
And became one of Acadia’s homicide detectives. “I’m glad you did. So, how does that moron reporter play into all this?”
“He’s my adopted brother. See, my grandmother, my father’s mother, had heard some rumors about a teenaged girl at the orphanage who looked identical to Bianca. And she already had Sean living with her. So, Mammy went down to the orphanage to ‘visit’ and spotted me outside in the backyard sulking. Tiesha had just left with another couple, and I was upset. Mammy came out and sat next to me, asking what was wrong. For some unknown reason, I poured my heart out to her. Almost like I knew there was a connection. She did some research and spoke to the nun who found me on the steps as a baby and the rest is history. She adopted me.”
A few more deep breaths seemed to do the trick, getting rid of the tightening. “But, what about your father?”
“He was studying to be a chef in France. So things wouldn’t be difficult with the courts, he agreed to allow her to adopt me. He came for the hearing and visited a couple of times throughout the year. Then, he came home and opened his own restaurant.”
“Here in the city?”
“Yes. Homeland Italy.”
Trent ate there quite a few times. It was his favorite Italian restaurant in Acadia. “That place has the best food.”
Sm
iling, she hooked her arm through his and pulled him in the direction of the rectory steps. “Come. We have a few more souls to save this evening, Doctor Moore.”
“Why are we headed to the church?”
Ciarra spotted the confusion despite his incredible grin. “It’s soup kitchen night. St Joseph’s feeds the hungry three times a week. They’re aiming for four before the end of the year.”
Trent stopped them near the steps. “I’m good. I have food at my condo.”
She laughed. “Are you afraid you may catch something or eat something bad?”
“I’m not poor, so I see no reason.”
“Well, you don’t have to eat, you little snob. We’re going to volunteer our time dishing out some food to the less fortunate.” She unhooked her arm and turned to the steps. She’d leave his sorry ass out here. This man was so confusing. One day he’d made Lisa’s life better and the next he stood here snubbing the soup kitchen? She turned back around. “And F-Y-I, my father is one of the cook’s here. So, unless I want you poisoned, you won’t get sick from the food.” She headed up the stairs and swung open the heavy door. She was caught off guard by Trent catching the door.
“Ciarra, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like it sounded.” He held up his hands. “Okay, I know. I’m an ass, all right? I didn’t realize we were coming to scoop food.”
“You always were, Doctor Moore,” a man with a deep baritone voice spoke from behind Ciarra.
“Oh holy shit,” Trent replied.
“Trent, we are in God’s home. Not to mention the children around.”
Ciarra spun around and came face to face with a Trent look-a-like, but with darker hair. He extended his hand and introduced himself, “Hi. I’m Pastor Simon Moore. I’m from Magnolia Valley Church. I’m Trent’s brother.”
Deadly Curses Page 17