The faux gas lamps and the moon illuminated the area enough for me to see by with my natural sight, but I still opened myself to see a little deeper and a bit more beyond the veil. A wavering red miasma drifted up from a spot not too far ahead of us, a section somewhat removed and hidden by the nature that tried so hard to reclaim its bounty. I must have been quiet for too long, or perhaps she sensed my tension, because Hanlen touched my arm as we walked.
“Hey, is everything okay?”
How did I answer that? Especially to someone who clearly wasn’t ready to have her mind opened quite yet. “Yeah, just have a weird feeling.” Not a lie, but definitely not the entire truth. Something bad was about to go down. I just didn’t know what yet.
“It’s funny that you say that. I was totally lost in my memories and enjoying the night. And then I suddenly felt uneasy. I figured it was just my overtired brain playing tricks on me, but maybe there’s a storm coming or something.”
There was a storm coming for sure, only it wasn’t the type she was talking about. I stopped and turned to her. “Can we go over there for a minute?” I pointed to the spot where evil and despair wavered in the air like heat off asphalt.
Hanlen glanced to where I indicated and shrugged. “Sure. Is there something new over there that I need to see? Something they put in after I left?”
I didn’t think what was over there was anything anybody needed to see, but I didn’t say that. Instead, I instinctively grabbed her hand, not even realizing I was about to do it until it was done. I felt her tense momentarily, but she relaxed almost immediately and actually twined her fingers with mine. An electric shock shot up my arm when our palms touched, and I filed that away for later. There was most definitely more to this woman than met the eye. Then again, maybe it was simple chemistry. Who knew?
When we reached the grove, Hanlen stopped in her tracks, her entire bearing changing. “Dev, something’s not right. My investigative brain is screaming at me right now.”
“I know what you mean. It’s actually why I had to come over here.” I looked at her. “Should we go see?”
“Yeah, let’s.” She dropped my hand, and I felt the loss like a punch to the gut. What in the world was it about Hanlen Arbor that had me nearly tied in knots after only knowing her for a handful of hours? The coming days would be interesting in more ways than one. But first, I needed to get to the bottom of this suffocating wrongness plaguing me right now.
I caught up with her before she reached the edge of the trees, and the sickly-sweet smell of old blood and decay reached me. I knew that Hanlen smelled it, too, because she put a wrist to her nose and stopped in her tracks.
She groaned. “God, what is that? It smells like metal left out in the sun for too long combined with baby powder and sprouted potatoes.”
I was sure she knew what it was, she just wasn’t willing to acknowledge it quite yet. “Death.” It was the only answer I could give. For some reason, I didn’t want to lie to Hanlen. She may not understand or accept the world I lived in, but she would grasp facts. And we were about to be inundated with some gruesome ones.
We walked side by side into the tree line, and Hanlen activated the flashlight app on her cell phone. The LED light lit up the area to reveal absolute horror.
“Sweet Jesus,” Hanlen gasped as she took a stumbling step back, brushing into the bag of liquor I held and making it clank and clatter.
A body lay on the ground in front of us, nearly translucent in its twilight-lit death pallor, arms and legs arranged in a macabre tableau. The corpse had something resting on its forehead, right over the third eye. I flipped on my phone as well and took a careful step forward, shining the light on the face. Milky eyes stared up at me, the ghastly gash in the man’s throat like a sinister second smile. When I bent over to take a better look at the object on his face, I saw that it was an octagonal coin or token. I couldn’t see more in the low light, but I knew immediately that this wasn’t good, and had a feeling I knew exactly what it was. Even if it wasn’t what I thought, this was definitely ritualistic. It wasn’t just some person who’d wandered into the woods and died of a heart attack, or a bliss-seeker who’d taken a bit too much of their preferred reality escape. This was grisly murder. And sadly familiar. I rubbed my forehead with the hand holding my phone and blew out a breath.
Hanlen suddenly gasped next to me, and I lowered my hand and turned to her once more. “What is it . . . beyond the obvious?” I asked.
“That’s . . .” She hesitated a beat. “That’s my mark. The fugitive. That’s the guy I hoped to find while here in New Orleans. My skiptrace case.” She shook her head. “Well, it seems I found him—though not at all like I or his parole officer hoped.”
Chapter 6
Hanlen
My first night in New Orleans, and I spent the last hours of it at the police station, giving my statement and sharing everything I had on Dustin Reynolds with the NOPD. The man had a seedy past, and I’d never invite him to family dinner, but nobody deserved to die like that.
Dev was somewhere in the station as well, giving his statement and account of what’d happened. It seemed most of the force knew him, and I gleaned from the snippets of conversations I overheard that he’d helped them with cases in the past. I wasn’t sure what to think about that. On the one hand, as a private investigator, I knew that leads and assistance sometimes came from the most unlikely places and people, and when clues dried up, grasping at straws was a natural reaction. On the other hand, Dev was a fricking ghost hunter. Was the New Orleans Police Department actually using psychics and mediums to solve their cases now? Then again, what did I care? If it worked, that’s all that mattered. I might have even entertained employing some if I knew it would help me solve Reagan’s case. Maybe.
Detective Miller finished what she was doing and passed me a typed statement to sign. As I did that, she went to photocopy my file on Dustin that I’d luckily had in my purse, and then came back to return the originals to me, Dev on her heels.
“Hey, how are you holding up?” Dev asked, placing a hand on the back of my chair.
“Fine. Just exhausted,” I answered truthfully. I stood and faced him, taking in his Caribbean blue eyes that looked a little tired, as well. I turned to Detective Miller. “Are we finished?” I asked, hoping the answer was yes.
“You are,” she said, and I almost sighed in relief. “We have your contact information—both of you,”—she faced Dev for a second—“and we’ll call if anything happens or if we need anything else.”
“Is there any way you can keep me abreast of the progress?” I asked. “I know I don’t really have that kind of clearance, but I have to go back and tell my client that his quarry is dead. And not just dead . . . murdered. He’s probably going to be pissed that I’m keeping the deposit.”
She smiled. “I’ll see what I can do.” She turned to face Dev again. “Nice to see you again, Dev. Tell your grandma hi for me, and thank her for the muffins she sent over last month.”
Dev flashed her that smile that made my knees weak. “Will do, Stephanie.”
Dev and I walked outside and took the steps down to Broad Avenue. I saw him glancing behind me a few times with a strange look on his face and shifted to see what had caught his attention, but I didn’t see anything. When I turned to face him again, he looked a little nervous. “What’s up?”
“Nothing,” he said with a sigh. “Just tired, I guess.”
I wasn’t sure I believed him, at least, not entirely, but I wouldn’t push. I really was exhausted, too. This had been one hell of a first day back in my old haunts—no pun intended.
I shivered a little from the chill in the air, and Dev reached out and rubbed my jacket-covered arms. Normally, I wasn’t a touchy-feely person and usually shied away from uninvited contact. Even going so far as to call out people who touched me too familiarly and without consent. But something about Dev made me hold in those words. Both earlier and now, despite my body’s natural knee-jerk react
ions. Because I didn’t want him to stop, I realized. That wasn’t something I’d ever felt before, and I didn’t know how to process it. I wasn’t sure if it was the excitement, the fatigue, or just Dev. I decided not to dwell on it too much. It really wasn’t important . . . the whys of it. We had chemistry, there was no denying that, and I would let it unfold as it would. If it did . . .
“I should head back to the hotel,” I said and stuffed my hands into my pockets.
“And I should get home. I have about a dozen missed calls and texts from the team, and still need to do some research on the history of Arborwood before we really get started. Will you be okay making your way to The Ravisan alone?” he asked.
“Yeah, I’ll be fine.” I pulled out my phone. “Just a couple of taps and I’ll have a rideshare whisk me away.”
He waved his cell. “Same. But I need to run into the all-night market for a couple of things first. I never did finish my errand when I ran into you earlier.” He smiled.
“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry,” I said, honestly feeling bad for derailing his afternoon. Though the deviation had been his idea, so I probably shouldn’t feel too badly.
“No worries at all. An afternoon and evening in your company was better than any trip to the food shop—despite how our night ended. I’ll call you tomorrow and we can set up a time to meet at the property for the walk-through. I’d like you to show me around before I let the rest of the team in. Is that okay?”
“Sounds great. But can I ask a favor?”
“Anything,” he said, and I truly believed he meant it. I wasn’t sure what to do with that.
“Can we not do it until after noon?” I chuckled. “I’m not the best morning person, and I’m absolutely drained right now.”
“I promise not to call you until at least twelve-fifteen.” He tucked a piece of hair behind my ear, and I shivered. The reaction had absolutely nothing to do with the cold this time. “Goodnight, Hanlen. May your dreams guide you to the answers you seek.” And with that, he turned on his heel and walked away, and I set up my ride back to The Ravisan, wondering exactly what kind of dreams I would have. I had a feeling they’d feature a certain man with rich, walnut skin and extraordinary eyes the color of the beach vacation I never let myself take.
Chapter 7
Dev
I watched from around the corner as Hanlen got into a silver Camry and rode away in the direction of her hotel. Once she was gone, I sent a quick text to the number she’d called me on earlier, asking her to let me know that she’d made it to The Ravisan safely, and then went to find the people who had gotten my attention when Hanlen and I exited the police station.
When I crossed the street and entered the little open area that people used to walk their dogs, I saw them up ahead, on a bench under a live oak. When I approached, the male stood and helped the female up.
“Hey, Dev.” Findley McNair was dressed for a summer day in New Orleans, but despite the uptick in wind whipping my curls about my head, his hair remained in perfect, artful spikes as his dark eyes took me in.
“Hey, Fin,” I replied. “How are you guys doing?” I took in the beautiful woman at his side and felt a pang in my chest. Her long, silky twists fell perfectly around her bare shoulders, her arm tightening around Fin’s waist as she leaned into his side.
“We’re fine, brother,” she said. The look in her flashing green eyes and the sound of her voice nearly made my heart break. I had lost Wren almost two years ago now. She had been found in a little grove of trees in one of the smaller cemeteries, her throat slit, her body posed, and a copper token left on her forehead—just like Dustin Reynolds. The night Findley found her, he joined her in the great beyond, the victim of a senseless accident, the result of him being distracted by his grief. The only saving grace was that they still had each other, and they seemed to rather like their otherworldly existence, playing Nancy Drew and Joe Hardy.
That didn’t mean I didn’t miss my sister and her great guy with a fierceness that sometimes took my breath away. Just because I could still see and talk to them didn’t mean I didn’t ache to grab them both in a huge hug.
I sometimes wondered if I was the reason they were still on this plane. In my grief, I had done a séance to try and speak to Wren after her murder, and it was brilliantly successful, even though she never actually saw her attacker. Unfortunately, as I found out later, it had resulted in Wren disappearing for a bit from Findley’s side. They eventually found each other again, and neither had seen the light nor felt the pull to leave just yet. As long as they had each other, and I knew they were safe and happy, I would be selfish and soak up as much time as I could with them, however I could. And I couldn’t lie, they really helped with the show. Still, I had a feeling that whenever we solved Wren’s murder and caught the person responsible—and I was convinced that we would eventually—they may both disappear from my life forever. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. But I would face that possibility when and if the day ever came.
“So, it looks like we have another R℈DRΩM case on our hands, huh?” Findley said.
I shook my head. It was so stupid. Not only did this sadistic, psychopathic bastard leave his little copper tokens on his victims’ foreheads, but he’d also signed his single taunting piece of correspondence to the police and the press: R℈DRΩM after Wren’s murder. Redrum, like in The Shining, but with some twists. Murder backwards, the scruple and the omega adding a bit of narcissistic flair. We had a feeling it might be an anagram or a cipher or something, but we couldn’t figure it out—and neither could the cops. The only things we knew were the factual pieces: the murder reference, the fact that a scruple was both a measure of weight and a sense of right and wrong, and that the omega denoted a last, final, ultimate end.
Not ominous at all.
I sighed. “Looks like,” I replied, watching my sister’s face for any signs of distress.
“Desmond told us what happened,” she said. “We didn’t get there until later.”
“Desmond, the soldier?” I asked. The ghost was a relic from the War of 1812, and one of my best runners. He was an invaluable go-between in the spirit world on investigations, ferrying messages for me so we could get to the bottom of things quicker.
“Yes,” Fin acknowledged. “Everything was the same. The modus operandi, the signature. But again, why? The Akashic Records tell us that this guy was just some ex-con skipping out on parole and engaging in petty theft along the way. And he was locked up for nearly twenty years prior to a couple of months ago. Why would this serial killer target him out of all the people in New Orleans and the surrounding parishes? But then again, why would he target anyone he killed?” He pulled Wren to him, kissing the top of her head.
“Why, indeed? I’ll see if I can make contact with this Dustin Reynolds later to perhaps get some of the answers we’re missing. Fill in some of those pieces. Have you guys discovered anything else of use?”
Wren shrugged. “Sadly, not really. But I do have a question.”
“What’s that?” I asked.
“Who was the woman you were talking to earlier?” She smiled, a twinkle in her otherworldly, faded-dollar-bill eyes. “She’s pretty.”
My sibling may be on the other side of the veil and only five minutes younger than me, but she could still little sister with the best of them, sticking her nose into my business every chance she got. It made something twinge in my chest—thoughts of all the things we had and would miss out on in life. But I forced a smile and answered anyway. “The owner of the plantation we’re doing our next show on. Hanlen Arbor. And, ironically, the private investigator assigned to hunt down our newest deceased and bring him back to his parole officer in Texas, despite how that worked out. But, yeah, she’s not bad on the eyes.” I grinned.
“But . . .” Fin said.
I shook my head. “But nothing. She’s beautiful. Inside and out, from what I can tell. Though there’s pain there, too. A story I haven’t heard yet, but hope to. Something
broke her, that much is clear, and she’s still trying to pick up those pieces.”
“You liiiike her,” my sister singsonged.
“If I could give you a noogie right now, I so would. And maybe throw you in a closet.” I laughed, and she did, too.
“Just razzing you, big brother,” she said and snuggled closer to Fin. “We’ll keep looking and report back anything we find. You do the same. You know how to reach us. Do you need help with this next case?”
“I’m not sure yet. I’m supposed to get the lowdown on the property from Hanlen tomorrow before I fill in the team and get busy setting things up. I actually have very little information on what kinds of sightings and experiences have been going on there, or the down-and-dirty history of the place. We just reached out because of all the chatter on the rental site and because it’s a place I’ve eyed for years. The next few days will be full of a bunch of research.”
“You like it. You always were a nerd,” Wren teased.
“Intellectual badass, thank you very much.” I winked.
“Get home safely,” Findley said, and my stomach did a little flip. He said that every time we parted ways, and he likely always would.
“Will do,” I assured. “Take care of each other.”
I heard a stereo, echoed, “Always,” as they turned and walked away, hand-in-hand, disappearing from sight like fog burning off in sunlight. Time to get home and do some internet searches and think about possibly reaching out to our dead ex-con.
My phone dinged, and I looked at the screen.
Hanlen: Tucked safely away. Thanks for keeping me company today. It was nice, despite how the night ended. Talk to you tomorrow.
I sent back a quick lowball glass emoji, knowing she would likely crack open one of her whiskey bottles tonight, especially after the events of earlier, followed by a sleepy-faced emoji and a thumbs-up.
Memento Mori: Haunted New Orleans Series Page 3