Death by the River (A St. Benedict Novel Book 1)

by Alexandrea Weis

  “Where did the dogs come from?” Leslie’s voice shook.

  Derek guided her to a path curving down a long slope. Up ahead, the rush of the river grew louder.

  “There are lots of stories. I heard they were left behind when the priests abandoned The Abbey and the seminary school around it. Legend has it, when you see them, death is near.”

  A strong shudder ran through her.

  Derek tugged Leslie’s hand. “Come on.”

  The path widened, and a beach came into view. The outcropping of white sand had a collection of green picnic tables, red barrel trash cans, and a few black fire pits along the rivers’ edge. Around the beach, thick brush covered the shore with limbs from pine trees dipping into the water. The sun snuck in through the gaps in the canopy and sparkled on the gentle waves in the river.

  “This way.”

  Leslie followed him along the shoreline until they came to a rusted iron gate with a No Trespassing sign secured to it. Decorated with crosses and swirls, the sign marked the entrance to The Abbey grounds. Stepping through the open gate, she peered up at the imposing structure.

  Two spires of white limestone, shaped like the tip of a sword, cut into the blue sky. The structure of red brick and limestone, the front windows and doors secured with loose scraps of plywood, sat in the middle of a field of high grass. The squat stone building of cloisters behind The Abbey remained intact. The Benedictine monks who had run the seminary school demolished the dormitories, refectory, and library after the site had been abandoned.

  “Some place, huh?” Derek let go of her hand and trudged his way across the high grass.

  Leslie’s apprehension bloomed in her chest. The grounds, unkempt after years of neglect, were a hodgepodge of weeds, overgrown trees, and green vines. On the way across the thigh-high grass, they passed a beautiful triple-tiered fountain with an angel on top, raising her arms to the heavens—a silent witness to the past.

  How do people come here at night?

  “You ever wonder why those priests just up and left it?” she asked, uncomfortable with the eerie quiet. Even the birds had stopped singing. “I know everyone in town says they got a better offer from the seminary in New Orleans, but it seems funny a bunch of people abandoned the place for no reason.”

  “They left because it’s a wreck.” Derek parted a thick pile of tall grass with his shoe. “My mom told me it was falling apart when she was a kid, and the Archdiocese didn’t have the money to fix it. So they packed up the seminary school, the priests, and all the staff and shipped them to New Orleans.”

  “Seems a shame, though. I read once that the structure dates back to the early 1800s when the Devereaux family built it as a private church.” Leslie eyed the frame of the empty belfry atop one of the square-shaped towers. “You’d think they’d want to save it.”

  Derek nudged her with his elbow. “Maybe the ghost drove the priests away.”

  Beau’s tale had been in the back of her head the whole time, but Derek’s comment spooked the crap out of her. “By ghost, do you mean the lady in white?”

  “Yep.” He scanned the land around them. “They say she wears a glistening white cloak and wanders the priests’ cells. She only appears when the moon is full or during storms.”

  The thought of being alone in such a disturbing place terrified her. “Have you ever seen the ghost?”

  Derek searched the thick foliage ahead of them. “Nah. I’ve come here a few times with Mark and Andrew to hang out, but we’ve never seen anything.”

  Granite steps rose out of the high grass as they drew near the entrance.

  Leslie kicked herself for letting him talk her into coming to the remote location. “What about the wild dogs? Have you seen them around The Abbey?”

  “Not to worry, baby. I’ll protect you from ghosts, wild dogs, and Beau Devereaux.” He climbed the granite steps, encouraging her to join him. “But I have to draw the line at your mother. There’s no way I’m taking her on in a fight.”

  On the porch, beneath the cracked and chipped stone arch over the front doors, she waited while Derek wrestled with the plywood covering the entrance. She scanned the landscape, searching for any hint of trouble. But despite the creep factor, the lush green trees encircling them did have a soothing effect. Leslie breathed in the fresh pine scent and mossy aroma of the tall grass. Then a fly zipped past her face.

  Thud.

  She spun around to the source of the noise. Derek had pushed one of the large pieces of plywood securing the door out of the way, leaving a nice sized gap to crawl through.

  “How did you do that?”

  Derek held the plywood to the side for her. “The loose boards have been rigged to open easily. Found out about it the first time I came out here with Mark.”

  Leslie dipped her head and looked through the doorway. “You sure it’s safe?”

  His smile won over her fears.

  “Baby. I wouldn’t bring you here if it wasn’t.”

  Leslie gave him one last smirk and then stepped inside.

  It took a few moments for her eyes to adjust. The first thing she saw were pinpoints of light on a floor covered with clumps of debris. She raised her head to the source. In the roof, thousands of holes, some big and some small, littered the space between the bare beams where parts of plaster had fallen away. Birds’ nests of light-colored hay and twigs nestled against blackish beams, shadowy eaves, and were tucked in murky archways, creating a patchwork design on the ceiling, reminding her of the quilt her grandmother made for her as a child.

  Derek appeared, shining a beam of light down on the floor.

  She pointed to the flashlight in his hand. “Where did you get that?”

  “I told you, me and the guys have been here a few times. We’ve stashed stuff around the place. We’ve even got a sleeping bag and a couple bottles of water socked away.”

  Here she was a nervous wreck, and his friends had turned it into their personal campground. Leslie’s skin crawled at the idea of spending the night in such a place.

  “I don’t know how you guys can come here.”

  He took her hand and the flashlight beam bounced on the dusty floor. “I don’t know why you’re so freaked out about being here. It’s just an old building. There’s nothing sinister about it.”

  Perhaps not with the building, but …

  Beau’s words about bringing her to the remote location sent a shiver down her spine. Any girl would be at his mercy in such a place. She questioned her sister’s choices, knowing she’d been there with Beau. Had she been afraid? Did she regret her decision?

  Leslie doubted she would ever discover the truth. She and her sister had a propensity for keeping their troubles locked away.

  The flashlight illuminated their way across the floor, shining on dozens of rotted pews, leaves, twigs, crumbled plaster pieces from the ceiling, and a few skeletons of dead birds. “There are lots of animals using this place as a shelter. I’ve seen possums, raccoons, deer, and once, Mark and I swore we saw a black leopard running out the back as we came in.”

  The disclosure made Leslie feel even more uneasy about being in the building. “You wouldn’t happen to have a shotgun in your stash.”

  “The animals don’t bother me, just the people.”

  Their footfalls echoing through the vast structure, they ventured farther. Expecting someone or something to jump out from the shadows, Leslie’s heart raced. Her only distraction was the intricate carvings on the walls and atop the arches. Men and angels exchanging timid glances as rays of light from parting clouds shined down on their interactions.

  Paintings of Noah and the flood, Adam and Eve, and other Genesis stories were barely visible on the white plaster covering the arches along the central aisle. In one spot, where the roof remained intact, she could make out the image of Moses carrying the Ten Commandments. His eyes stood out the most. It was like they carried the burning wrath of God.

  Shivering, Leslie looked ahead to a white archway,
marking the entrance to the altar. The gleam of the limestone appeared pristine. She got closer to the most sacred part of the old church, and her sense of dread rose. The hairs on the back of her neck rose, and she gasped, spinning around to face the open floor of scattered, rotting pews behind them.

  “What is it?” Derek asked, taking her hand.

  His voice rattled inside the hollows of the church, adding to her anxiety. They stood under the circular dome where the altar had once been, and then a soft low growl came from one of the shadowy corners.

  The air left her lungs; her insides clenched in terror.

  What was that?

  Her senses heightened, seconds ticked by while she listened for any other sounds.

  “Tell me you heard that?”

  Derek raised his finger to his lips and nodded to a door on his left.

  She wanted to run for the door but followed his lead, slowly moving across the debris-laden floor, careful not to snap any twigs or make a noise. Leslie cursed her decision to come.

  She held her breath as he reached for the rusted doorknob. It turned and, fortunately, the old warped door gave way without a creek. Once they were on the other side, Derek gently shut it.

  Her heartbeat slowed, and she relaxed her shoulders while letting out a breath. “What in the hell was that?”

  “Wild dog, maybe? I don’t know.” He put his ear to the door. “I’ve never heard anything in there before.”

  “Maybe we should go.”

  “I’m not going back through the church.” Derek glanced around the short hallway, brandishing his flashlight. “We can get out through here.” He motioned with the beam down a narrow corridor. “There’s an opening up ahead.”

  Leslie clung to him, wishing they were outside. “What is this place?”

  “The cells.” Derek kept his voice low.

  She squeezed his bicep. “I’ve never been inside The Abbey.” Leslie peered into the dim, cavernous corridor ahead, with only patches of light coming through the thick stone walls. “I wish we hadn’t come.”

  “It will be fine, I promise.” He patted her hand. “Nothing will hurt you. I won’t let it.”

  They crept along, their feet hitting sticks and fallen pieces of plaster from the crumbling walls around them. Puddles of water dotted the uneven stone floor and dampened Leslie’s tennis shoes. Mounds of dead leaves lay swept to the side. The low ceiling had roots coming through it, and the walls were cold and slimy to the touch. Derek shined his flashlight into the first room on the left. It was a depressingly small space composed of four walls and no windows.

  It reminded Leslie of a jail cell rather than a place where a person would choose to live.

  Scraps of paper littered the ground of the next cell they came across; another had a rusty metal frame of a bed. Several of the rooms had cracks in their plaster ceilings along with patches of mold. When they stumbled on a few rat skeletons, Leslie turned her head into Derek’s shoulder.

  At the end of the passageway, sunlight snuck through a break in the wall. The intrusion of light was a welcome sight and Leslie’s fear abated. The jagged opening allowed green leaves from the plants outside to reach in, and a few creeping vines jutted up toward the ceiling. Along the floor, a thick pile of dead leaves hid the lower part of the opening.

  “There was a cave-in along the wall here.” Derek brushed the leaves aside, revealing a fairly large breach able to accommodate one person at a time. “The other cells past this point are too dangerous to explore. We can get out here and avoid going back through The Abbey.”

  Derek turned off his flashlight and handed it to her. He pushed the leaves back, pulled the vines down, and kicked the debris at the bottom away, trying to clear the opening.

  While he worked, a glimmering light from inside one of the cells farther down the corridor distracted her. She flipped on the flashlight and angled it into the tight quarters beyond the cave-in.

  The walls in this portion of the cells had deeper cracks than the rest of the structure. The fissures ran along the entire ceiling and down to the floors. Patches of black mold were everywhere. What struck her as odd was the lack of debris. It appeared as if it had been freshly swept without any leaves or rat skeletons littering the ground.

  Derek came up behind her. “What are you doing?”

  Leslie headed toward the room where she’d spotted the strange light. “I saw something.”

  The smell of rot and mold filled her nose. Her skin brushed against the slimy walls, and she cringed. But something compelled her to keep going into the section Derek had deemed too dangerous to explore.

  “Leslie, stop.”

  Naturally, she ignored him and pressed on, testing the floor with the toe of her shoe as she carefully progressed. Her heartbeat kicked up a notch, but this time a tingling sensation of excitement went with it. She felt like Indiana Jones exploring a lost tomb and waiting for a booby trap to jump out at her.

  Her beam of light filtered into the room, and her heart crept higher in her throat. She rounded the edge of the wall and halted.

  The cell was small without any windows, but this room appeared lived in. Along the far wall, below a pair of rusted pipes where a sink had once been, a green cot—army issue—had a pillow and green blanket neatly stacked on top. At the foot of the cot was a blue ice chest; on top of it, an assortment of red and white candles.

  Leslie went up to the cot and caressed the blanket and pillows. Her foot tapped something beneath. She bent down and discovered an old CD player.

  What’s this?

  Footfalls came from behind her. She swerved the flashlight around to Derek, fuming.

  “Did you do this?”

  “Do what?” He shielded his eyes from the light and stepped inside.

  She wanted to believe he had no idea any of this was here, but her suspicions couldn’t be silenced. The whole scenario seemed so well-planned.

  “What the hell?” Derek came up to the cot and lifted the pillow.

  She stood back, studying his reaction as he browsed the contents of the room. “I thought you said this portion was dangerous.”

  “It is.” Derek went to the ice chest and moved the candles to check inside.

  She couldn’t picture Derek pulling a fast one on her, setting up a rendezvous in such a desolate place. It wasn’t the guy she knew.

  “You sure you’re not just trying to get me alone so you can finally have your way with me?”

  The ice chest closed with a thunk. “I have to admit, the thought had crossed my mind.” Derek chuckled. “But it’s not exactly romantic. If I wanted to have my way with you, I would pick you up, serve you champagne, and take you to a very nice hotel.”

  “But you can’t afford a hotel, let alone a bottle of champagne.” She sighed, taking in the room. “I don’t know, maybe if you fixed it up, fumigated, and—”

  “That’s not a good idea.” He guided Leslie’s flashlight to an array of mazelike chinks scarring the plaster-covered wall. “It’s not going to collapse today, but I wouldn’t want to stay here for long.”

  “Should we leave them a note, ‘Hey stupid, move your crap or die’?”

  Derek pulled her to the entrance. “No. Let’s get out of here before whoever did this comes back.” He ushered her to the gap in the wall.

  Derek pushed the leaves aside and eased his shoulder through until he disappeared into the sunlight. His hand came back through the gap and he wiggled his fingers at her. She took his hand, smiling, and followed his lead, working her right shoulder into the mass of leaves. They brushed against her face, and she closed her eyes. When she opened them again, she was in the midst of an overgrown camellia bush.

  Derek tugged her forward and she soon stood in thigh-high weeds. A breeze brushed the tops of the long stalks against her hand. She eyed the fountain with the angel on top. Sunshine hit her face, and she raised her head, soaking up the warm rays, thankful to be outside.

  Once the rush of relief passed, Leslie
glanced back at the hidden opening and wondered how anyone had found such a remote spot. Her fear of The Abbey returned, but this time it wasn’t related to ghost stories or talk of wild dogs.

  This trip had made Beau’s threats all the more poignant. The isolated locale, and the helplessness any girl would feel if trapped alone would make her an easy target. The only problem was, who would believe her if she tried to warn them? How did she get her sister, and everyone else, to see the dangerous predator lurking beneath the brilliant smile and good looks of St. Benedict’s star quarterback?

  Chapter Seven

  Hunched over a bowl of homemade mac and cheese, compliments of their cook, Beau sat at the copper breakfast bar in his parents’ kitchen, watching a zombie movie on his laptop. The only light in the room came from above the gourmet stove his mother never touched.

  He couldn’t remember a time when his mother had ever cooked or cleaned. He’d even had a nanny until his father insisted Elizabeth Devereaux take an interest in her son.

  Family dinners were something he’d seen on TV shows but never experienced. He’d gotten a taste of it at Dawn’s house when he’d eaten dinner with the Moores, but after his incident with Leslie earlier in the week, he wanted to give her some space.

  He preferred to break her slowly, tearing her apart a bit at a time. Rushing her to the end he had in mind would only take away from the pleasure of the experience.

  A soft overhead light above the kitchen island came on, the copper pots hanging from the rack above twinkled.

  “What are you watching?”

  Elizabeth glided into the light from the outer hallway, wearing her favorite yellow robe. Her drinking robe, as Beau called it.

  Noticing the black coffee mug in her hand, he guessed she’d run out of ice to go with her whiskey.

  “A zombie movie.” He went back to his mac and cheese, not bothering to turn down the volume.

  Her slippers shuffling across the floor were like fingernails on a chalkboard. He couldn’t remember a time in his life when she hadn’t dragged herself around the house like one of the zombies in his movie.