The Awakening

by Jana DeLeon

  He nodded.

  “This would be so much easier if it turned out to be someone nasty, like Mack Prevet, but I guess he’s out of the running since there’s no way he left the bar and got to the house before we did.”

  “I wouldn’t say that.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Mack disappeared about an hour before we left the bar. Plenty of time to get to your house and gain access. And as we were sitting in his bar, he knew the house was empty.”

  Josie stared. “I didn’t even notice.” Mentally, she chided herself for being so lost in having a good time with Tanner that she hadn’t even kept an eye on one of their suspects. Apparently, Tanner hadn’t run into trouble staying focused, which was encouraging on a professional front but somewhat disappointing on a personal one.

  “Clearly, you’re better suited to this than I am. I promise to keep an open mind and stay out of your way.”

  “I appreciate that.” He grabbed his pistol from the counter and slid it into his waistband. “I want to take a walk around the perimeter of the house to check for any weak points. Lock the doors behind me and keep your cell phone handy.”

  Josie nodded.

  “Hey,” Tanner said as he opened the back door. “If it makes any difference, I hope it’s not Vernon.”

  As he shut the door behind him, Josie couldn’t help hoping so, as well.

  Chapter Twelve

  Tanner walked out of the shower and threw on jeans, T-shirt and tennis shoes, then hurried downstairs to the kitchen, where he’d left Josie “resting” twenty minutes before. She’d gone into a frenzy when he’d told her that his brothers were paying him a visit that afternoon. Neither he nor Josie had mentioned their earlier kiss, and after taking a cold shower, Tanner decided that was probably the best way to leave things. The last thing he needed in his life was another complication, and Josie Bettencourt was definitely not a simple woman.

  He surveyed the kitchen, marveling at how quickly she’d accumulated such a mess. Mixing bowls were stacked on the kitchen island alongside canisters and plastic containers. A heavenly smell wafted from the oven.

  “I brewed a fresh pitcher of tea because it’s so warm,” Josie said, “but if you would rather have coffee, I can start a pot. It will only take a few minutes.”

  “It’s just my brothers, not royalty. You don’t have to go to any trouble, especially when you’re supposed to be resting.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Compared to a regular day, this is practically sedate. I can’t lie around in bed all day. I’m just not made that way.”

  Tanner grabbed a soda from the refrigerator and sat down on a stool in front of the island.

  Josie used a kitchen towel to wipe flour off her hands, then looked across the island at him. “Do you think they’re going to take you off the case?”

  Tanner paused a bit to consider her words. Certainly, Holt had been unhappy when Tanner had called him earlier to explain the bad turn of events that the case had taken, but he didn’t think his brother’s request for the three of them to meet had been precipitated by his phone call.

  “I don’t think so,” Tanner said. “I got the impression that there’s something else going on that they want to discuss with me.”

  “But wouldn’t it have been easier for you to go back to Vodoun since both of them are there?”

  “I refused to leave you here alone, and Holt agreed. Besides, it’s the same distance from Vodoun to Miel as it is from Miel to Vodoun, and they’re riding together,” he joked.

  She visibly relaxed a bit, then frowned. “I hope it’s nothing serious. What am I saying? They’re driving out to the middle of nowhere to talk to you. Of course it’s serious.”

  She bit her lower lip. “Do you have any idea what it is?”

  “None whatsoever,” Tanner replied, and that was the truth. He didn’t have any earthly idea why Holt’s voice sounded strained or why he’d insisted on talking to him today, but he knew with certainty that he wasn’t going to like it.

  The crunch of gravel disrupted his thoughts and he rose from the chair as Josie grabbed a potholder.

  “That must be them,” she said, rushing to the oven. “And I don’t have everything ready. Can you please let them in? Heavens, I have got to do some serious work on my hostess skills.”

  Tanner smiled at her unnecessary panic as he strolled outside to greet Holt and Max as they stepped out of Holt’s Jeep. Max looked up at the house and the surrounding grounds and whistled.

  “Pretty fancy digs,” Max said. “No wonder you didn’t want to leave. This beats the hell out of your apartment.”

  Tanner grinned and shook his brother’s hand. “I don’t own the television remote, so there’s a trade-off.”

  Holt laughed. “I bet it’s even been cleaned this century, though.”

  Tanner let go of Max’s hand and reached out for his big brother’s. Max and Holt were only months apart in age, but Holt had always been the brother Tanner looked up to. He had always been the strongest, fastest, smartest of all the kids and he hadn’t missed a step as an adult. Tanner wished he could latch onto his brother’s secret. Max’s, too, for that matter, as both his brothers seemed infinitely fulfilled with their lives.

  Tanner released Holt’s hand and gestured to the house. “Let’s move inside. Josie’s been in a whirlwind in the kitchen ever since I told her you were coming. She’s got something that smells like heaven in the oven. I’m hoping it’s ready for public consumption.”

  “I hope she didn’t go to any trouble,” Max said.

  “Cooking is always trouble,” Holt said.

  “Only when Alex is doing it,” Max teased.

  Tanner laughed. Holt’s wife, Alex, was beautiful and smart and tough, but she completely fell apart on the domestic side of things. Holt did most of the cooking at their house. Tanner suspected it was in self-defense.

  “Asking Josie not to play hostess in her own home would be like asking me to stop breathing. I get the impression her mother was big on that kind of thing.” Tanner’s mind flashed back to the many mornings he’d spent setting up tables and chairs on the back lawn so that Josie’s mother could host whatever group she’d gotten involved with. Audrey Bettencourt had been every definition of a lady—educated, beautiful, refined, kind and passionate about helping others in the community. Tanner had thought she was the most fantastic woman he’d ever met, next to Holt’s mother.

  If only Josie’s father hadn’t placed his trust in the wrong man, Josie could be holding court at the estate the way her mother had—worrying about helping others get by instead of desperately trying to hold on to the only home she’d ever known.

  As they walked through the front door, Josie hurried down the hall to greet them. Tanner introduced her to his brothers, and she shook their hands, an anxious smile on her face.

  “I’ve set you up in my father’s study,” she said as she motioned them across the living room to a set of open double doors off the side of the room. “I thought it would be more comfortable and private. I hope that’s okay.”

  They walked into the room and looked around. Floor-to-ceiling bookcases covered every wall except the one that faced the front lawn. Every square inch of that wall contained windows with a sheer curtain that allowed sunlight to stream into the room.

  A giant scrolled desk sat toward the back of the room, and directly in front of it were four black leather chairs forming a square and a coffee table in the middle of them, resting atop a bearskin rug. Glasses with ice, a pitcher of tea and a plate of chocolate chip cookies sat in the center of the coffee table.

  Holt scanned the room in obvious appreciation. “If you don’t mind, Josie. I’m going to take some pictures of this room before I leave. This is officially what I want my home office to look like.”

  Josie smiled. “My dad loved this room. He would have been pleased to know someone liked it so much they wanted to replicate it. I’ll leave you gentlemen to it. Please let me know if you need a
nything else.”

  She stepped out of the study and pulled the massive carved wood doors closed behind her. Tanner poured tea and handed a glass to each of his brothers and they all sat in the chairs. Max reached for a cookie and gave a small sigh at the first bite.

  “Homemade,” Max said, and looked over at Tanner. “You might want to keep her.”

  Tanner shook his head. “Keeping her would imply that I have her in the first place.”

  Holt swallowed a huge bite of cookie and pointed his finger at Tanner. “You might want to try. Seriously. If I didn’t love Alex, I’d go after Josie for her baking skills alone. Not that I failed to notice how easy on the eyes she is, mind you.” He grinned at Tanner.

  “She was a model,” Tanner said, trying to play it off. “Of course she’s beautiful. In case you two haven’t noticed, the world is full of beautiful women, none of whom I’ve taken up with.”

  Holt looked over at Max and raised his eyebrows. Max stuffed an entire cookie in his mouth and nodded.

  “He doth protest too much,” Holt said to Max.

  Tanner knew they were joking with him, probably trying to work themselves up to the real reason they were here. But talking about how attractive and wonderful Josie was hit a little too close to home for him to be able to make light of it. And the absolute last thing in the world he wanted to do was talk to his brothers about his warring emotions.

  “I’m guessing the two of you didn’t come all this way to discuss my personal life.”

  They both sobered and Holt shook his head. “Not your dating life, but what we need to discuss is personal. It’s about our father.”

  Tanner frowned. In the hours between Holt’s phone call and their arrival, his mind had come up with things that were important enough to precipitate an impromptu visit, but the only thing dire enough that he’d thought of was an illness—perhaps one of his brothers or their wives. And while he was relieved that none of them seemed to be the reason, he couldn’t imagine what they had learned about their long-dead father that would send them here today.

  “I don’t know how much you remember about that day,” Holt began.

  “It’s burned into my memory,” Tanner said. “I know I was younger than you two, but it’s not something you forget.”

  “I understand,” Holt said. “Then you remember we were all going to play hooky at my house and had a bike race home from school. I got there first and saw a man leaving the house.”

  Tanner nodded. “You told the police, but they never really thought much about it.”

  “Yeah, and I let it go because I didn’t have a choice. After I got back from my tour in Iraq and was appointed temporary sheriff of Vodoun, I combed all the original files on our father’s murder, but there was nothing to go on. Until Alex’s niece was kidnapped.”

  Tanner frowned. “I don’t understand.”

  “The man who kidnapped her niece had a tattoo like the man I saw leaving the house. I’d never seen the tattoo before that day, and until Alex’s niece was kidnapped, I’d never seen it again. But it turned up on two men—both criminals, both with no verifiable past and both dead, so no hope of questioning them.”

  “But we had a starting point,” Max said. “A trail to follow, even if it was chilly and narrow. When I took my first case for the agency, I ran across the same tattoo. On another dead man with prints that didn’t match anyone in the database.”

  “But this time,” Holt continued, “our luck was a little better. He had a pin in his leg from an old break and we were able to trace it back to the real person. He was ex-military. Special Forces. He went AWOL ten years ago. Just based on observation and experience, I’d say the man who kidnapped Alex’s niece was also ex-military.”

  Tanner stared at Holt, his mind trying to process everything his brother had laid out. Never in a million years had he imagined they’d have such a conversation. He’d always figured their father’s murder was just one of the many that would go unsolved. He never thought that he and his brothers might make ground on the investigation over twenty years later.

  “After all these years,” Tanner said, “what are the odds that something like this crops up—making a connection to a case that’s been dead for over two decades?”

  Max nodded. “It’s surreal. That’s the way it felt to me, anyway, when Holt first told me.”

  “This tattoo,” Tanner said. “What does it look like?”

  Holt pulled a picture out of his pocket. “This is a pic of the tattoo on the guy from Max’s case, but they’re all the same.”

  Tanner took the picture from Holt and stared at the eye design of the tattoo. His pulse increased, and he felt his heart pounding in his chest.

  “I’ve seen this tattoo before,” he said.

  His brothers’ eyes widened and they straightened up in their chairs.

  “Where?” Holt asked.

  “On a guy I helped the DEA bust. He was running drugs through the Atchafalaya Basin. He looked suspicious to me—not like the regular hunters and fisherman—so I started poking around. Turns out he was running a couple mil a month of heroin up from Mexico.”

  Holt jumped up from his chair. “You helped bust him...so he’s still alive?”

  “Last I heard, he was doing twenty in Angola.”

  Max pulled out his cell phone. “I’ll call my buddy at the NOLA Police Department and have him check. What’s the guy’s name?”

  “Sebastian Portico.”

  While Max chatted with his cop buddy, Holt sat down again and Tanner looked over at him, taking in the expectant but also worried expression on his brother’s face.

  “You think our father was involved in something bad, don’t you?” Tanner asked.

  Holt sighed. “It’s hard not to. All these guys have no past to speak of, we know their fingerprints have been altered and now we know for sure at least one of them was Special Forces. I’d bet he’s not the only one.”

  “Mercenaries?”

  “Maybe. All I know for certain is it’s organized and deadly.”

  “Our father wasn’t in the military.”

  “No, but he had a lot of business and a lot of money.” Holt looked directly at Tanner, his expression grim. “What if he didn’t make it all legally? What if we inherited blood money?”

  Tanner frowned. He didn’t like the thought, either.

  “That’s not on us,” Tanner said. “We weren’t even involved with him as a father, much less in his business. You’re doing a good thing with your inheritance—starting the agency and taking on cases from people who don’t have other options. Don’t let yet another bad decision in the ten million bad decisions he made keep you from doing what’s right now.”

  Holt gave him a small smile. “How did you get so smart?”

  “I had an older brother who knocked it into me.”

  Max hung up the phone. “He’s going to make sure Portico hasn’t been transferred and see what’s required to get us an interview.”

  “I wouldn’t put too much faith in Portico being helpful,” Tanner warned. “He clammed up during trial and refused to talk at all, even in his own defense.”

  Holt nodded. “Assuming he’s part of something bigger, that’s to be expected. Maybe we can talk to the prosecutor and tell him what we’ve got. See if he can put some pressure on Portico from his end.”

  Max slid back into his seat and grabbed a couple of cookies. “Well, since we’re finished with old business, let’s get back to new business. How’s the investigation going, Tanner?”

  Tanner shook his head. “I’m worried that I’m not cut out for this.”

  “Why do you say that?” Holt asked.

  Tanner told them about the sightings of the creature, the attack on Josie, Vernon’s suspicious behavior and Josie’s precarious financial position.

  “It seems there’s a whole lot of things going on,” Tanner finished, “but none of them make sense. It’s a bunch of moving pieces that don’t form a clear picture.”

/>   Max nodded. “Police work was always like that. The hardest part about an investigation was sorting through all the crap to figure out what was relevant to the case. It was never clear-cut like they show on television.”

  “Max is right,” Holt agreed. “You’re not experiencing anything outside the norm. I know it feels out of sorts. I felt the same way when I started investigating. The military was straightforward for me, like tracking was for you. Once you have to involve yourself personally with people, things get complicated fast.”

  “It’s not just that...” Tanner paused, not having any idea how to say what he needed to say.

  “It’s the swamp,” Max said quietly. “Things don’t feel right there.”

  Tanner let out a breath of relief. “Yes. How did you... Do you...”

  “We both feel it,” Holt said. “The swamps in Mystere Parish aren’t like anywhere else. Things happen here that can’t be explained.”

  “When I was a kid,” Tanner said, “my mom always yelled at me for being fanciful. As I got older, I concocted all kinds of elaborate reasons for the things I saw. When I left, I convinced myself I’d imagined everything, but all the same, I never wanted to come back. That’s why I went to Baton Rouge to work. That and other reasons.”

  “Are you having second thoughts about returning?” Holt asked.

  Tanner nodded. “And thirds and fourths and one hundred eighty seconds.”

  “We get it,” Max said. “I promise I’m not being glib. Both of us have had...experiences, let’s say, that were outside what we’d call normal.”

  “When you were boys, maybe—” Tanner started.

  “No,” Holt interrupted. “He means recently. We don’t talk about it much because people who haven’t experienced it tend to look strangely at you, but I promise you, there’s nothing you can tell us about the Mystere Parish swamps that we won’t believe, Alex and Colette, as well.”

  Tanner felt as if a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders. If these men and their wives also thought things were amiss in the swamps, then he no longer doubted his instincts. He began to recount what had happened the day he’d seen the creature.