The Reunion: The Secret of Cypriere Bayou

by Jana DeLeon

  “Just out of curiosity,” Tyler said, “but do you even know where Brant’s wife is?”

  Joelle shook her head. “It’s one of the ways we protect the women. I deliver her to another person who delivers her to someone else. I have no idea how many hands she passes through before she arrives at a safe house. It’s set up that way to protect the victims.”

  “And clearly it does,” Tyler said, “but it doesn’t do much for the volunteers. Have you ever had something like this happen before?”

  “Nothing like this. We’ve had husbands show up at the center where I work yelling threats, and a couple of them have grabbed me, but nothing ever escalated beyond that. Usually when the police get involved, they back off.”

  “Either Brant is supremely arrogant to think he won’t get caught or he’s not sane. This definitely escalated beyond simple threats.”

  Joelle’s eyes filled with tears. “This is all my fault. I brought that monster to Calais and put my sisters in danger.” Suddenly, she straightened up. “I’ll leave. That will get Alaina and Danae out of danger.”

  “No.” Tyler issued the directive without even thinking.

  “Tyler’s right,” Carter said. “It wouldn’t change anything. Brant is already aware of your sisters. He would still use them to get to you no matter where you go. What I don’t understand is how he found out about them so quickly.”

  “He’s smart,” Joelle said. “Scary smart, and he has a whole fleet of private investigators at his fingertips. His wife showed us some of his records. He pays them a fortune and they’ll do anything for him.”

  “It wouldn’t be that hard to find out information about the estate,” Tyler said. “Not if someone was looking.”

  Carter sighed. “No, probably not. So the question is, what can we do to protect them?”

  “Yep,” Tyler said, “and I’m up for any and all suggestions you have.”

  “Any luck on finding out how he’s getting in the house?”

  Tyler frowned. “No, and even worse, he knew the cameras were there. Gave me the one-finger wave when he went under the one in the entry.”

  Carter slammed his hand on the counter. “He’s always one step ahead of us. Over two months I’ve been investigating and I’m no closer to knowing how now than I was then.”

  “That’s not true,” Tyler disagreed. “You’ve found out that Purcell was paying people for his dirty work, and you’ve already identified two of the Calais residents who were part of it. Granted, they’re both dead, but two months ago, you didn’t even know who Purcell really was, what he was up to and that anyone from Calais was involved.”

  “And despite two dead, I have to assume someone else from Calais is still in the thick of it,” Carter said. “Someone knows their way around this house entirely too well.”

  “I’ve been over every room in here—both floors—and checked the windows and for any exterior passageway. They’re all secure. With all the clutter, he could easily hide once inside, but I still have no idea how he’s getting in.”

  “What about the attic?” Joelle asked. “Is there any way he could get in through the roof?”

  Tyler shook his head. “I checked it first thing. The attic stairwell is at the end of the hall on the second floor above the laundry room, but I padlocked the door to it that day. No one is getting through there unless they can walk through walls.”

  “It almost seems like he can,” Carter said.

  “Do you want to take another look at everything?” Tyler asked. “Maybe if we go over it together, we’ll think of something we haven’t individually.”

  Carter threw his hands up in the air. “I’m willing to try anything. First, I want to call Alaina and Danae and give them a heads-up, and I’ll need to borrow your phone, Joelle, so that I can forward this information to the Jackson police.”

  “Of course,” Joelle said.

  “Give me a minute,” Carter said and stalked off toward the front of the house.

  “What do you want me to do?” Joelle asked.

  Tyler looked at her, then immediately shifted his gaze out the patio windows. With the taste of her cherry lip gloss still lingering on his lips, the question was one he couldn’t answer honestly, especially as he didn’t want to be honest with himself. Finally, he looked back at her, trying to keep his thoughts on his job, where they belonged.

  “I don’t know. I mean, I guess do whatever you would have done otherwise—just carrying your pistol.”

  She sighed. “The real irony is I came here thinking I would avoid having to carry my pistol around inside my own house.”

  His heart ached for her, but he was glad Carter was just down the hall. If they were alone, he’d put his arms around her to comfort her, and he had a really good idea where that would go.

  “We’re going to figure this out.”

  She nodded, but he could tell she wasn’t convinced. “I’m going to start sorting stuff in the downstairs rooms. I’ve spent a little time picking through it, but I need to start separating the good stuff from the garbage.”

  “I figure we’ll start outside, so keep the doors locked and your phone on you as well as the pistol. I’m going to see if Carter is ready.”

  It took every ounce of control he had to leave her in the kitchen. It bothered him to see such a normally strong woman at the point of breaking, and it made him angry that evil men had put her in this position. He would figure out what was going on at the estate.

  But he wasn’t about to audition for the role of white knight. Not again.

  * * *

  HE WATCHED FROM his hiding place at the edge of the swamp. He’d seen the man and woman come out of the butler’s pantry and made his call when he had a clear view of her through the kitchen patio windows. He wanted to see her response—her fear. He needed to remind her what he was capable of. She thought she already knew, but she had no idea. His bitch of a wife had no idea, but she would.

  They both would, very soon.

  * * *

  JOELLE WATCHED AS Carter and Tyler exited the front door, and she locked it behind them. She checked her pistol for the third time that morning and slipped it into her waistband. Her cell phone was already tucked into her jeans pocket, so she headed into one of the back rooms to start digging through the stacks.

  She’d already assembled some cardboard boxes that William had delivered and set them in the entry in different sections—keepsakes, donation, potential valuables and trash. She’d spent some time poking through stuff the previous days, but there was no way she could keep track of everything unless she started organizing it.

  The first room she went in had a stack of boxes against the far wall and a chest of drawers against another wall. The closet looked as if it was going to spit its contents out onto the floor—assuming it could find a bit of open floor space.

  She opened the first box and a flurry of dust flew up in her face. Coughing, she took a couple steps back and leaned against the wall. Who was she fooling? Her head wasn’t in this. And despite her fear of Brant and absolute conviction that he was capable of hurting her or her sisters, her mind wasn’t dwelling on him, either.

  It was stuck on Tyler’s kiss.

  From the look on his face, she’d known it was coming, so it wasn’t surprising on a momentary level. But now, after the fact, she was surprised that he’d ever gotten around to such a thing. At first, she’d thought Tyler didn’t like her in the least, despite the fact that he didn’t even know her. She could tell he resented her presence.

  After talking to his father, she realized that his issues were internal, and he would have felt the same about anyone in her position. So it definitely wasn’t personal, but it was still hard not to take his brusque attitude that way. Then when things intensified, he’d dropped the aggravated attitude and stepped instantly int
o professional mode, surprising her with an occasional bout of personal interaction. But even then, she was still well aware of the emotional wall he’d erected.

  William thought Tyler had seen so many atrocities overseas that he needed time to decompress and work through them, and she was certain William was right. Given Tyler’s specialty and the length of his time spent in a war zone, a certain level of PTSD should be expected.

  But she’d always gotten the feeling that it was somehow more personal than that. That the wall he’d erected was specific to her, and not in place with his father or Carter. Maybe now, she knew the reason why. Clearly, Tyler was attracted to her. She hadn’t mistaken his expression when he kissed her, but she’d understood his expression when Carter interrupted them, as well.

  She wasn’t surprised at the kiss, but he was.

  He’d lost control—let down that wall for just a second and allowed her in, and that scared him so much that he’d fled when Carter interrupted. Seconds later, the wall was back in place, strong as ever and just as impenetrable.

  Sighing, she pushed herself off the wall. She had no business dwelling on Tyler and his love life. He’d already made it clear that he didn’t want to become involved and, realistically, it wasn’t a good idea for her either. When all this was over, they would sell off the estate, dole out the money, and the sisters would continue the lives they’d already started. Now those lives would include one another, but Joelle didn’t think for a moment that any of them were going to change directions simply because they’d found one another or become wealthy. All the money did was allow them to easily pursue things they’d always been working toward anyway.

  And Tyler Duhon was not one of the things she’d been working toward.

  Her mind said it; now, if only her body and heart would comply. Despite the standoffish attitude that was in place most of the time, Joelle was drawn to him in a way she never had been to another man, not even Brad. Tyler was an alpha male in every way, but she knew that beneath that bravado lay a kindness and empathy that made him even more attractive. She’d seen that side of him peek out a couple of times and knew that Tyler was so much deeper than the layers of absolutely perfect muscle that physically defined him.

  When it came to the possibility of relationships, Tyler may as well be another ghost in the house—showing himself just enough to give her a taste of what he had to offer, but not sticking around long enough for her to touch something solid. Likely, he would remain that way the entire two weeks, then she would leave, and they would have polite exchanges when they happened to run into each other after that.

  Depressing, but probably accurate.

  Sighing, she reached into the box to lift out a stack of clothes, and then she heard the sound of glass breaking. Instantly, she froze, trying to figure out where the noise had originated. It sounded like it came from the direction of the kitchen.

  She stepped out into the entry and listened again, but only silence surrounded her. Maybe Carter and Tyler came in the patio door and dropped something. She pulled her cell phone from her pocket, then swore. The one bar of signal that had been present earlier was gone.

  She removed her pistol from her waistband and headed for the kitchen, creeping down the hallway, both hands clutching the pistol in front of her. She stopped right before the entryway to the kitchen and listened again, but no sound came from the room. Maybe she’d been wrong. Maybe the noise hadn’t come from this direction at all.

  She inched around the wall and peered into the kitchen, but it was empty. Shaking her head, she stepped around the corner, chastising herself for creating a fright when there was no reason for one.

  That’s when he grabbed her.

  He’d been standing against the wall right next to the door just out of her field of vision when she’d peered inside—in a perfect position to grab her arms and shake the pistol loose. She screamed as the pistol fell from her hands and slid across the stone floor.

  He yanked her around to face him and she stared right into the face of the devil—Victor Brant. One look at the .44 Magnum he held to her head and the smile on his face, and her fear turned to terror. This was it. She was going to die in this house at the hands of a male abuser.

  Just like her mother.

  “Where is she?” he asked.

  The calm politeness in his voice made her blood run cold. He wasn’t human. At least, not in any of the good ways humans ought to be.

  “I don’t know where she is,” she said.

  His fingers dug into her arm and she winced. “Liar!”

  Her heart pounded so hard in her chest that she thought it would break, but a sliver of anger replaced some of her fear. “I’m sure your flunkies looked into it. You know how this works. I passed her off. I don’t know where she is.”

  His lips thinned and he narrowed his eyes at her. “You can find out. And you will.”

  Before she could reply, he pulled her into the butler’s pantry.

  “Open the trapdoor,” he said.

  She hesitated, trying to scramble for an escape plan.

  He shoved the barrel of the gun into the back of her head so hard that her scalp ached. “Don’t play dumb with me. I saw you go into the cellar with that man you’re shacked up with. Had a real clear view through the patio windows.”

  She leaned over and pulled open the trapdoor.

  “Get inside, and don’t even think about fighting or I’ll shoot you right here, then go after your sisters.”

  Everything she’d been taught told her to fight with her attacker and at least you leave a body that can be found—but what had her creeping down the stairs and into the cellar was her sisters. Brant was probably going to kill her, but maybe she could stall long enough for her sisters to get to safety. Carter had called them earlier to warn them. Surely, they were working out every possible precaution.

  When they got to the bottom, Brant motioned her toward the tiny space under the stairs. “Get in there,” he said.

  She stepped in the cubby under the stairs, not even able to stand upright because of the low support beams, and looked back at Brant, her mind whirling with possibilities. What in the world was he going to do? If he killed her down here, it might take a long time for Tyler and Carter to find the body, and they would definitely go looking for her when they came inside and found her missing.

  She cursed herself for her stupidity. The longer they spent looking for her, the more time it gave Brant to go after Alaina and Danae. When she’d come into the cellar, she’d thought she was buying her sisters time, but she’d forgotten that she was buying Brant time, as well.

  Now she crouched there, waiting for the shot that would end it all—would destroy so many lives—but instead, he picked up a piece of plywood and propped it and covered the opening to the cubby. With only a tiny bit of light streaming into the cellar from the butler’s pantry, the cellar was already dim. But with the plywood covering the cubby, she was pitched into total darkness.

  Chapter Fourteen

  A wave of dizziness passed over Joelle as she heard Brant hammering the first nail into the plywood, and she struggled to keep from passing out. It wasn’t a lack of air, as the steps and the opening had plenty of cracks, even with the plywood in place. It was fear. She took a deep breath and slowly blew it out, trying to keep herself from dwelling on the fact that he planned to leave her here, boarded up in this empty cellar.

  Think! There has to be something you can do about it.

  But what? Given her black belt, she could definitely kick and normally, the half-rotted piece of plywood in front of her wouldn’t have taken her seconds to plow through, but crammed into a space where she couldn’t even extend her legs made it impossible.

  The hammering went on for what seemed an eternity, but finally, it stopped and she heard Brant breathing on the other side of the seal
ed opening.

  “Give me what’s mine,” he said. “Or the next body I board up won’t be breathing and it won’t be yours. I’ll give you some time to think about it.”

  A second later, she heard his footsteps above her, and then the trapdoor slammed shut. Panic coursed through her. For all intents and purposes, she’d been buried alive. The urge to scream was overwhelming, but she managed to choke it back. It would just use more air and energy, and she was too light-headed. Besides, she needed to save her strength to get out before Brant could get to Alaina and Danae.

  She turned sideways and placed her shoulder against the plywood, then leaned away from it as far as possible and slammed her shoulder into the wood. Pain shot through her arm and up her neck, but the plywood didn’t budge. She took a deep breath and tried again. The wood bent out a bit, but she didn’t hear a single splinter. Nerves in her shoulder set off, sending shock waves that felt like fire shooting down her arm. Involuntarily, she grabbed her arm and squeezed it, trying to stop the pain from moving farther down, but it moved right past her grip and into her hand.

  Brant had secured the plywood well. Too well. And she couldn’t get her leg in place for a good kick without risking breaking her ankle or foot.

  He’d won.

  He’d closed her off from her protectors, both of whom were here with her instead of protecting her sisters. And that was the part that bothered her the most.

  She slumped against the wall and slid down until she collapsed on the dirt floor. There was nothing left to do now but cry.

  * * *

  TYLER OPENED THE front door and punched in a code for the alarm. He and Carter had spent almost an hour inspecting every square inch of the outside of the house—banging on it with hammers, poking at it with pry bars—and digging through the brush surrounding the house for signs of passage. They’d come up with exactly nothing.

  “You want something to drink?” Tyler asked.

  “I’d love a whole bottle of scotch or a case of beer,” Carter replied, “but that won’t help us find answers. I’ll settle for water or soda, if you’ve got it.”