“I had to see you off.”
Carma pulled her close again, not wanting to let her go. “I’m so glad you did.”
Just then Carma heard her number called. As if in a panic, both girls pried themselves apart and looked at each other.
“There’s just not enough time to say to you all the things I want to say. First of all, Carma, thank you so much for everything you’ve done for me. I literally wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you.”
“Aww… honey, I’m so glad I had the opportunity to get to know you. It’s like being with your mother all over again. Your parents would be so proud of you.”
“Thank you. I wish you didn’t have to leave.”
“I know, but I do. This year has hit too close to home and I can’t stay here any longer, and neither can you. You and I both need a change of scenery to cleanse our minds and hearts.”
“Can I come visit you?”
“You better, and if you ever need me, you know you can call. I don’t care what time of day it is. I can be on a plane in no time. But for now, I have to go before I miss my plane. If that happens, I may never leave and you will be stuck with me cramping your style in New York, and that wouldn’t be very pretty.”
Carma turned to Harold and gave him a tight squeeze as well, but she couldn’t force herself to say good-bye. Instead, she turned and quickly walked through the gate toward her future and her new life in New Orleans.
Epilogue
Carma stepped off the plane in New Orleans two years ago and sometimes, when the nights finally got quiet and loneliness set in, she wondered if she made the right decision. Most of the time she was completely content in her choice of leaving her safe little quiet home in North Carolina to come to the boisterous city. There was always something to see and do there. New Orleans was a city that didn’t sleep, well not often anyway. There were so many old structures in the city and Carma relished in visiting as many as she could. New Orleans was so fascinating and full of life, culture, and the food was incredible. There wasn’t much not to love about New Orleans, except for the crime rate. It was always a problem, which was normal for a big tourist-ridden city like that one, but it seemed like after Hurricane Katrina hit in 2005, when the city was destroyed and so many people lost their homes and jobs, the crime rate escalated.
Days like today she was almost certain that the city just may be the gateway to hell, and she wasn’t quite sure how she felt about that. While standing beside her partner, Luke, one of the most beautiful men she had ever seen, having been raised in the city by his French Cajun father and mocha toned Creole mother, it often became easy to forget the chaos in the world. Luke had the clearest gold tone eyes and perfect caramel skin, and his accent was rich and sultry with a body to kill. Good God, the man was tall and slender with just the right muscle definition. Imagine James Lesure, the smooth talking eye candy on the television show Men at Work, and you’ll see Luke, or at least the very likeness of him, which tended to make it hard to concentrate whenever he was around. As hard as it was, tonight she had to focus.
Carma and Luke had been working on cases of seemingly random murders, five in total, for the past few months, one in which they had just recently figured out had all been related to the same Voodoo priestess. Earlier today they got a call from a trusted source that another ritualistic murder was going to happen tonight in Lafayette Cemetery off Magazine Street, the southern part of the city. The once lavish above-ground vaults and tombs were home to the families that once lived in the surrounding Garden District mansions. The cemetery was much further away to the district due to locals of that time making the well-to-do newcomers feel unwelcome in the older parts of their city. The gates closed daily at two-thirty in the afternoon to preserve the wealth that lay beneath the stones. Funny thing was, most likely that wealth was long gone because the early closure still doesn’t stop rift raft from happening after hours. The above ground cemeteries are the most dangerous places to be in the city once the sun goes down. Most tourists don’t realize that, hence the early closure, but the locals do, making it the perfect spot for any crime to go undetected.
Carma and her partner had set out earlier in the night to clear stragglers out the cemetery and set up post. They had remained hidden in the shadows behind an above ground tomb for the past hour, watching and waiting. She glanced at her watch and noticed that it was almost midnight, and since moving to New Orleans she had learned that it was also known as the witching hour. The perfect time for the ritual. She would love to just bust in and take the old lady down sooner rather than later, before she could hurt anyone else, but there were procedures that needed to be followed. They have to catch the suspect in the act to make their case against her stick because, up until now, they had no other leads. No one seemed to be willing to speak against the witchy lady, nor did they ever find evidence to back them up.
She motioned to Luke, who was on the opposite side of the tomb, that it was almost time. She scanned the grounds and saw other officers scattered about the grounds as well, circling around the tomb the Voodoo priestess was using tonight as her sacrificial temple.
The night grew quieter and quieter as seconds passed. The only thing she could hear was her heart pounding in her chest as she stared at her watch, the hands seeming to move far slower than they actually were. Sucking in a deep breath as the hands on her watch hit midnight, she motioned to Luke again and he gave her the signal to move by cutting his hand through the heavy night air. They stuck to the shadows in the eerie cemetery until they were each flanking the sides of the entrance of the tomb. Luke held up his hand and began to silently count on his fingers 1… 2… 3… then motioned for them to go in.
But right when Carma was about to move, she felt an irrepressible vibrating in her back pocket. She hesitated and looked down at her pocket, feeling thankful that she had remembered to put her phone on vibrate, but decided to ignore it anyway, then turned back to Luke. He looked at her confused and lifted his shoulders, but she waved him on. Her phone vibrated again, but she continued to ignore it.
Luke nodded and stood in front of the entrance and proceeded to kick the old rusty metal gate open, which made the old weathered wooden door beyond it open just in time. The priestess was standing above a young African American girl, who seemed to be about thirteen years old. The poor girl had her hands and feet strapped down onto the sides of the cement casket she had been made to lie on, and a knife was raised high above her head. The girl looked back and forth between the knife and them, confused with wide, tear stricken eyes.
With her gun aimed at the priestess, Carma yelled, “Put the knife down!”
The priestess ignored her and continued chanting something incoherent. As if in a trance, the priestess raised her arm higher to plunge the knife into the girl’s heart. A thunderous bang vibrated off of the old cement structure as a bullet blazed through the priestess’ chest, causing her to slam back into the wall behind her. With her gun still aimed at the old witchy woman, Carma bent down and moved a few long dingy dreadlocks off of her neck and put two fingers on her jugular to feel for a pulse, but felt none. She shook her head and stared at the old woman, who appeared to be around sixty, but was probably much younger. It was always hard to tell on those who lived rough lives. She looked just like you would think a Voodoo priestess would look like, thanks to Hollywood and all of its wondrous storytelling, with a head full of long dirty dreadlocks, beads and nuts sown into a few strands, her face painted with odd symbols, and wearing a ragged dark dress. Had Carma seen her on the streets, she would have just written her off as a homeless lady.
She stood up and continued to stare at the old woman sadly, then turned around to see Luke releasing the young girl’s restraints as an officer moved in to help the terrified girl out of the tomb, leaving them all alone.
“It’s all clear here,” Luke said to Carma. He paused when he saw the look on her face. “Hey, you did what you had to do.”
“I know. I just wish I didn�
�t have to do it.”
“Had you not, that girl out there would have been killed, as well as who knows how many others.”
“I know you’re right,” Carma said, glacing back at the woman.
“Come on, let’s let forensics do their thing,” he said to her with a nod of his head toward the exit.
Before they crossed the threshold, Carma’s phone began to vibrate again. She held up her finger to him to tell him to wait just one minute so she could look at her phone. Obviously it was important since whoever it was kept calling.
He rolled his sultry, golden eyes at her and crossed his arms over his chest, pretending to be exasperated about it, but waited for her with a smile on his lips.
Her heart fluttered as she watched him and a giddy smile played on her lips as well. She forced herself to look down at her phone, cocking her head to the side. She narrowed her eyes when she saw the North Carolina area code. “Hello,” she whispered into the phone.
“Hey Jones, it’s Sheriff Ron.”
She covered her exposed ear with her hand to muffle the noise around her. Turning away from Luke, she walked back into the tomb. “Hey Sheriff, I’m sorry, but can I call you back in a little bit?”
“I know it’s late and I’m sure you’re busy right now, but I had to call you right away. Shit! I hate doing it like this.”
Carma dropped her hand and stood up straighter; the worry in his voice pierced her ear drum, “What’s up, Sheriff Ron?”
“It’s Harold, he’s dead. I’m sorry Carma. I-”
Without a word Carma dropped her phone and fell back against the dingy tomb, staring off at something unseen.
Luke rushed to her side and wrapped his arms around her to hold her up. “Geez, Jones, you’d think you were a rookie. You better not let the others see you like this.” He looked at her confused when she didn’t come back with a typical smartass remark, but instead continued to be slack in his arms. Concerned, he smoothed her cooper hair back then ran his fingertips down the side of her cheek. “Hey, are you okay?”
She blinked and looked up at him with wide, sorrowful eyes and slowly shook her head
“What’s wrong?”
She swallowed hard and managed to say, “I have to go home,” before the dam that held her tears broke.
Acknowledgements
I want to thank everyone for supporting me through this process. It seems the more I write, the more I can’t seem to stop. I have so many ideas swirling around in my head that I become restless if I am not writing. There are so many factors that play into writing these wonderful works of art. It takes great focus and support to fulfill this dream of writing.
I was not as confident about writing a crime novel and unsure how it would evolve, since my mind automatically reverts to romance and drama. But I have to say I am so happy that I took the chance on this idea. It has been so much fun writing it. The ideas for the plot and characters changed quite a bit from the beginning of the writing up until the end, which usually occurs while writing any story.
I’ve been thanked by a few people from my hometown in Pamlico County for bringing our little slice of heaven out to the world, so to speak, but really it makes me so happy to be able to incorporate those beautiful areas of my home into my stories. It was something I told myself I wanted to do before I even began to write my first book.
My family ~ As always, I want to thank my wonderful family, Eric and Brennan, for always being so patient with me. I love you both to the moon and back. I promise that all these sacrifices we have made are not for nothing.
Nancy Hall ~ I have to say special thanks Nancy Hudson-Hall for helping me and supporting me through my endeavors. She has worked hard and helped me revise this book and research the procedures of our local law enforcement, paramedic and forensic specialists to ensure accuracy.
Nancy Hager ~ I feel the need to thank my own mom, Nancy Hager, as I usually do. She is such an amazing person. Raised by her dad and the eldest of four, she grew up with humble beginnings and still ended up on top. She proves to me every day that anyone can do anything they want with dedication and hard work. I am beyond proud of her and even more proud to know that I am so much like her.
Beta readers ~ I have a few beta readers, Amber Clark, Carrie Ensley and Candice Mancuso. They are vital to my writing and without them I would be lost because they help me make my books make since.
Limitless Publishing ~ Recently, Limitless Publishing has taken a chance on me. They are an amazing team and I am so happy to be a part of their family. I hope it is a relationship that continues to grow. Thank you so much Liz Borino, Dixie Matthews, Jennifer Snowden, Jennifer O'Neill, Jessica Gunhammer for taking the chance on me and working so hard to get this book re-released.
My readers ~ Most especially, I want to thank my readers. There have been some who have stuck by me since the very beginning and that means the world to me. It is something I will never forget.
About the Author
Tressa Messenger grew up in a very small town in Eastern North Carolina called Reelsboro in a coastal county called Pamlico. Being as it was such a small area, Tressa developed an immense imagination at a young age. That is where she harnessed her love for writing.
To date, Tressa lives in New Orleans, Louisiana with her husband, daughter and an assortment of critters.
As of right now, Tressa has nine books published, some self-published and some being published through Limitless Publishing.
As a young writer, Tressa has overcome the adversity of Dyslexia and continues to exceed expectations.
Check out these other great book by:
Tressa Messenger
Protector
Protect Me
Protect Us
County Girls-PG 13 Edition
County Girls-Explicit Edition
Facebook:
www.facebook.com/tressamessenger
Twitter:
https://twitter.com/tressamessenger
Goodreads:
www.goodreads.com/author/show/5091799.Tressa_Messenger
Website:
www.tressamessenger.com/
Pinterest:
www.pinterest.com/tressamessenger/
Blog:
http://tressamessenger.blogspot.com/
Too Close to Home (The Forensic Files) Page 18