Between Dusk and Dawn

by Lynn Emery

  “I’m sorry for breaking down,” she said hoarsely. She breathed in and out a few times then sat straight. “Thought for sure I was all cried out about that part of my life.”

  “No need to apologize.” LaShaun sat across from her. “I’m stirring up heartache, and I’m not sure if it even matters. I apologize for making you talk about these things.”

  “You’re the first one I told about Manny. In fact I don’t think anyone else knows.” Verlena shrugged.

  LaShaun felt a tingle up her spine. She leaned forward. “Does Manny know?”

  Verlena’s eyes became haunted again. “When Manny turned thirteen Ethan got drunk. He started pushing Manny around. Manny screamed that he was a sorry excuse for a daddy. Ethan said, “Then you don’t need to worry, you little bastard, cause I ain’t your daddy’.”

  “What a horrible way to find out,” LaShaun murmured.

  “Daddy beat hell out of Ethan, and the next day he was gone. After that daddy shrugged it off, said it was no big deal and told Manny to quit crying like a punk. Manny started to act as cold as daddy and Ethan after that.” Verlena squinted at LaShaun. “Manny is locked up, so he couldn’t have killed those folks in the last few months. “

  “I’m not saying your father killed them either if that’s what you’re thinking,” LaShaun replied.

  “Honey, don’t hold your breath waiting for me to defend Orin Young.”

  They sat talking about Verlena’s current life and her family. LaShaun wanted to give Verlena a chance to recover from the ordeal of talking about her past. As she looked around at pictures of a teenage boy and little girl, LaShaun felt bad about bringing darkness to the life Verlena had built. She knew the smiles on the face in the pictures were genuine. There were no traces of a haunting secret on the faces of Verlena’s children. Verlena had built a new family of friends. Scenes of church picnics and of her son’s softball team were lined up on the mantle.

  “This seems like a nice quiet neighborhood,” LaShaun said finally. “You have a beautiful family. I’m sorry if I’ve stirred up awful memories.”

  Verlena waved a hand dismissing her concerns. “Don’t worry about me. I survived. A couple of hours talking about it won’t spoil my life. God brought me through it, and you’re right. My life is good here. I love Beaumont now, but living in a big city was an adjustment after living out in the country. At least we had lots of land to run around in. Sometimes I could pretend I was in another world.”

  LaShaun started to reply then blinked at her. She heard Willie Dupuis’s voice in her head talking about a house, and Orin Young bragging about all the land he owned. The familiar tingle raced up her spine and down her arms.” Verlena, does your family own property on Black Bayou?”

  “Sure did. Why?” Verlena replied.

  “Where exactly, and was there a house? I mean other than the one y’all lived in. I need to know where it is. It could be important.” LaShaun’s pounding heart, sweaty palms and the insistent tingle told her she’d found a link.

  Verlena wore a grim expression as she stood. “I’ll be right back.”

  LaShaun heard scraping and a thump. After ten minutes ticked by LaShaun ventured through the house. The kitchen had a bright airy feel to it. The back door led to an open garage. A light blue Ford Focus was parked there. Another space stood empty with a grease spot on the concrete floor, no doubt where Verlena’s husband parked his vehicle. Sounds from inside the house and footsteps caused LaShaun to return to the living room. She was seated again when Verlena came back holding a shoebox.

  “Daddy married mama because her people owned property. Here’s a picture of a house daddy built years ago. One night he took me, Diane and Ethan there. He said we was going to a party.” Verlena held a shoebox out in front of her. She stared at it but didn’t remove the lid.

  LaShaun felt excitement coursing through her nerves like electricity. She had a feeling that house had seen more than a few parties. Willie Dupuis had been to them, and maybe Patsy. Then she realized Verlena stood holding the box with trembling hands. She walked over to her.

  “You don’t have to look,” LaShaun gently and pulled the box from Verlena’s stiff fingers.

  “I’ve kept it all these years. You know why? I’m hoping that daddy drops dead one day, and we get it all. No, it would be better if he ends up in a nursing home. Then he’d have to watch me sell off everything he’s got.” Verlena breathed hard, and her eyes sparkled with wrath. “I’ll put some money away for my kids to attend college. I’ll send some to Diane, though she’ll probably send it back. We earned every cent he has in this world, and I intend to get it one day.”

  “Don’t let anger burn you up inside. Orin Young is going to pay one way or another. Believe me, revenge isn’t sweet at all,” LaShaun said quietly.

  Verlena blinked rapidly as though coming out of a trance. She gazed at the box and rubbed her right cheek as though waking herself up more. Then she looked at LaShaun. “You’re right. I’m still working to set myself free from this rage that comes on me when I think about him and those years.”

  LaShaun shivered. Evil easily took root like a poisonous plant in the natural world. If Reverend Fletcher wanted to truly go after something demonic, he should look up Orin Young.

  “Do whatever it takes to bring daddy down,” Verlena said.

  “I can’t make such a promise,” LaShaun said and shook her head.

  Verlena ignored her protest. “You think he’s mixed up in the killings somehow, and I know he’s the reason Manny became a monster.”

  “I don’t know for sure Mr. Orin has anything to do with the recent murders.” LaShaun looked at the box in her hands. The strong tingle that seemed to travel from the thick cardboard and through her body implied differently.

  “But you came here for a reason. There was whispers that you got the gift of sight even stronger than Miss Odette. You found the one that killed your cousin. Some say he was possessed, and you fought off a devilish spirit.” Verlena placed a hand on top of the box. “I’ll do anything to help, just tell me you’ll stop him.”

  They stood facing each other in silence for several long moments. LaShaun looked into Verlena’s eyes. She didn’t see fury or hatred, but a plea to bring an end to more suffering. Verlena could have told her again about her sister’s tortured quest to find peace, or how Manny’s life had been twisted into something vile. She could have talked about the misery Flora Lee Young had endured. But she didn’t have to speak. They both knew that Orin Young had grown to love causing pain and more as time passed. His sadistic nature had taken a horrific turn somehow.

  “I’ll do my best. I can’t guarantee more because I’d be lying to you,” LaShaun said finally.

  “That’s all I ask.” Verlena hugged her hard for a few seconds and stepped back. She wore a sheepish grin. “I got to admit I was curious to meet you in person. You have a strong faith.”

  “Surprised I’m not wearing black clothes and fingernail polish with weird tattoos all over?” LaShaun smiled back at her.

  “Are there normal tattoos?” Verlena wisecracked. She shook her head slowly, and her smile faded. “Thank you for trying. You’re the first person from Beau Chene or even Vermillion Parish to come talk to me. Except for a reporter. She just wanted find dirt on the family to explain Manny’s behavior.”

  “There was plenty to find it turns out. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean...” LaShaun frowned at the way her thoughts slipped out.

  “No, no, you’re right. But you’re not looking to exploit us for some tabloid. If I can help, burn some candles or help you make a gris-gris, just let me know.”

  LaShaun laughed hard. “You definitely listened to too many of stories about me and Monmon Odette.”

  “Maybe so.” Verlena’s face lit up when she smiled again.

  LaShaun could feel that this woman now had love and joy in her life to fight the darkness from her past. Verlena’s smile made her look like a younger, prettier version of what Flora Lee m
ight have once looked like.

  “No, cher. You go to church and light a candle. Say prayers for your brother’s soul, that your mama finds peace; and pray for your daddy’s soul, too.” LaShaun nodded slowly at the shocked expression on Verlena’s face.

  “I’ll pray for Manny to find redemption. I don’t want mama to die miserable and full of guilt. But daddy?” Verlena’s expression hardened. “I know the scriptures say we should forgive. That one I’m going to need the rest of my life to work on.”

  LaShaun placed a hand on her arm. “Take care. I’ll be in touch.”

  On the drive back to Louisiana LaShaun considered what she’d learned. Her gaze kept drifting to the box she’d placed on the passenger seat. Once she crossed the state line, LaShaun stopped at a gas station that also had a sandwich shop inside. She went inside carrying the box and sat in booth with hard bright orange benches. Once again she looked at the contents. There were copies of land deeds going back ninety years. Two of the pictures showed vacant land. Another photo showed an old house being bulldozed. Then three more showed the construction of another house at various stages until its completion. The first photos were shot in the sixties. The dates on the photos showing the house being built had 1976 stamped on the bottom. LaShaun had wanted all originals, the items handled by Flora Lee, her family all those years ago. And by the youthful Orin Young. Her senses picked up the mystical timeline of how evil grew from a seed into a thick choking vine.

  Chapter 18

  Later that evening Chase came over to LaShaun’s house just after six. The last fall daylight had disappeared. Dusk did not linger long past four in the afternoon that time of year. He didn’t talk much, but the tense expression said a lot more than words could convey. Another body had been found near White Lake. He had a long night ahead. M.J. had coordinated a meeting with investigators from two other neighboring sheriff departments, Cameron and Lafayette Parish. Louisiana State Police detectives would also attend.

  LaShaun sat on her bed, legs folded under her, when Chase came out of the shower. He brought the clean smell of soap with him when the bathroom door opened. He gave her a tired smile then pulled a forest green long sleeve t-shirt over his head.

  “I wish you could just stay here and rest tonight,” she said and watched his strong muscular legs step into a pair of indigo jeans.

  “I’m lucky M.J. couldn’t set the meeting up until seven thirty. At least that gave me time to come steal a kiss and some food,” he joked.

  “A decent night’s sleep would be better. Talking about killing and wickedness after a long day of seeing it up close isn’t good,” LaShaun said.

  Chase sat next to her on the bed and pulled LaShaun against his body. “You just summed up one serious occupational hazard of a lawman, and a soldier at war. We try not to let it, but this stuff seeps into your skin. We have to work hard to shake it.”

  “I know, cher. I know.” LaShaun brushed the damp hair from his forehead.

  “Yeah, you do understand. One more thing to love about you.” He held her close for a few moments. The soft patter of all rain outside seemed to soothe him as he relaxed in her embrace. “By the way, what did you find out from Manny’s aunt?”

  “Orin Young wasn’t a good father or husband.” LaShaun gave him a quick summary. The longer she talked, the more Chase’s expression tightened again.

  “After ten years as a cop nothing surprises me. I’ve learned so many nasty secrets are kept inside families.” Chase shook his head. “But it’s not evidence Orin is a killer.”

  “Let’s talk about something else. You need a break.” LaShaun brushed his thick dark hair with her fingers.

  “Yeah, long night ahead.”

  When he pulled away LaShaun shivered at the loss of warmth. “I fixed some gumbo and garlic bread. The temperature is going to dip down into the low forties tonight. You’ll need something hot in your tummy rambling around the countryside in this weather.”

  “Thanks, hon,” Chase said over his shoulder and continued to check the items on his duty belt. “But we won’t be going out to this new crime scene. Too dark to see anything at this point. We’ve got pictures though.”

  LaShaun watched him for a few seconds. She wanted him to be safe, and not see any more ugliness than he’d already experienced. “How bad is this one?”

  “Bad enough, but the good news is I’m sure this is plain old ordinary human evil.” Chase turned around and rested both hands on his waist. “Nothing magical, we just have to find a guy who’s got a lot of anger in him. We call it ‘over kill’.”

  She nodded. “Way more violence than was needed to kill the victim, right?”

  “Exactly. This murderer likes to watch them suffer. I’ve only taken a few of those profile courses, but I’d say he enjoys the moment when his victim realizes there’s no way out; the terror in their eyes when they see their own death reflected in the killer’s,” Chase spoke in an even, professional tone. But his hands clenched into fists. “I’m going to work flat out to catch this sicko.”

  “The victim is a young homeless guy with a history of using and dealing drugs,” LaShaun said without hesitation. In fact she didn’t even realize for a moment that she’d spoken the words aloud.

  Chase walked over to her and pulled LaShaun into his arms. “Try to unplug from whatever psychic wavelength you’re on, LaShaun. Like you said, too much of this stuff can poison your soul.”

  She rested her head against his chest. “I wish you didn’t have to follow trails of blood. After being in Afghanistan and seeing that carnage. It’s already made you feel distant from your family. Being with me doesn’t help.”

  Chase used a long forefinger to lift her face until they gazed into each other’s eyes. “Being with you helps me feel connected.”

  They shared a sweet kiss, holding each other for a time to fight off the chill that came from brushing shoulders with ice cold evil. LaShaun wanted to pull off his clothes and feel the heat of his skin, but duty called. Forty minutes later Chase had finished a bowl of gumbo, dressed in his warm Vermillion Parish Sheriff’s Department jacket and was gone. LaShaun turned on the television while she cleaned up after their meal. She found a station that re-played the six o’clock news they’d missed while eating.

  “Chief Criminal Investigator Chase Broussard spoke at a press conference about the latest gruesome murder discovered near White Lake,” a handsome anchor man intoned gravely.

  LaShaun dried her hands of soapy water and went to the television. Footage from the press conference earlier that day in the afternoon played. Chase stood outside the station. M.J. was on his right, and Chase’s opponent in the election stood to his left. LaShaun was convinced M.J. had made that concession so Dave Goudchaux wouldn’t accuse her of playing favorites. He gazed at Chase as though he wanted to shove him aside and take the spotlight. Still he managed to affect an “I could do this better” expression.

  Chase gave a brief description of the crime, the body of a man had been found by two Louisiana Wildlife and Fisheries employees. Reporters peppered him with questions once he’d finished his short statement devoid of details. Chase deflected most of them with a standard “Our investigation is on-going” response. Then James Schaffer took a step away from the crowd of about seven reporters.

  “I’m Jim Schaffer with the Investigation News Network,” Schaffer said in his best “I’m important” voice. “Is the Vermillion Parish Sheriff’s Office close to stopping this slaughter, and is it true that an occult gang is linked these murders?”

  M.J. changed places with Chase as he stepped back to let the boss take over. Her eyes flashed anger, but her voice held steady. “We continue to follow several leads, but an ‘occult gang’ isn’t one of them. We have no such evidence.”

  Schaffer cocked an eyebrow with professional precision. He allowed the right amount of skepticism show in his expression. “Our team has spoken to several sources who believe otherwise. The words rougarou keep coming up.”

&nbs
p; “We don’t deal in local legends, only facts,” M.J. snapped back. “That’s all the information we have.”

  LaShaun watched as M.J. led the rest of the law officers back inside the station. One reporter went on to repeat the fantastic details Schaffer had interjected into the press conference. She shook her head and finished cleaning up the kitchen.

  Hours later the red numbers of the digital clock on LaShaun’s night stand glowed softly, reminding her that it was after midnight. She’d tried to go to bed early since she intended to visit Manny again at the forensic hospital. This time she would go alone, and she would not tell Chase. He had enough on his mind; but mostly because she didn’t want him to insist on going with her. Manny would be more talkative if she went alone. When the antique clock chimed the half hour LaShaun tossed the down blanket aside and sat up. The house was chilly, so she turned up the heat since she would be out of bed. The heavy leather bound book sat on the table in the seating area near her queen-sized bed. She gathered up the knit throw her grandmother had made and wrapped it around her. Then she sat in one of the two comfy chairs near the window. She began reading the yellowed pages, turning them carefully.

  “Pete would have a fit if he knew I was touching the paper without using cotton gloves,” LaShaun murmured to herself, and then smiled. “And Chase would have a fit knowing I’m here talking to myself.”

  She laughed softly, and continued to read. LaShaun knew the oils from her skin might damage the paper made of cotton, but she at least followed his advice and stored the collection properly. The florid handwriting alternated between Louisiana Creole French and English. Accounts of routine daily life were mixed in with references to strange happenings in early nineteenth century Vermillion Parish. Her great grandparents travelled to nearby Lafayette Parish and St. Martin Parish to help solve problems. Without realizing it, LaShaun’s eyes closed. She suddenly jerked awake. It was three o’clock in the morning. She stretched to ease the stiffness in her shoulders and stood. A loud thump against the house rattled her bedroom window. Then a low growl seemed to start at the southwest corner of the house and spread out to surround it.