The Reunion: The Secret of Cypriere Bayou

by Jana DeLeon

  “I’m out of ideas as to how else he’d get in,” Tyler said. “Unless he’s living inside the house and never left, I’ve got nothing.”

  “Yeah. I do think someone was in here while Danae was working in the house. They had to have overheard conversations we had in order to make the moves they did. But I always assumed the front door was the weak link. You’ve eliminated that possibility with the alarm.”

  “We’re missing something,” Tyler said as he stepped into the kitchen. His shoes crunched on something and he stopped, staring down at the broken glass that littered the floor.

  “Where’s Joelle?” Tyler asked, his pulse ticking up a notch. “Did you see her in the entry when we came in?”

  Carter frowned. “No, and I didn’t hear her either, which is strange. You’d think she would have come out to talk to us when she heard you turning off the alarm.”

  “Joelle!” Tyler yelled, trying to keep from panicking. “Something’s wrong. No way Joelle would leave broken glass all over the floor.”

  “Maybe she cut her hand and went upstairs to clean it off,” Carter suggested.

  Desperate to cling to any normal and safe explanation, Tyler nodded, even though it didn’t feel right. “I’ll check,” he said and dashed into the servants’ staircase in the kitchen.

  Taking the stairs two at a time, he prayed that Joelle was upstairs, wrapping a bandage around her finger. He burst out into the upstairs hallway and yelled Joelle’s name again before looking in her bedroom. Empty. He ran to the hallway bathroom as Carter stepped out of the stairwell.

  “It’s empty,” he said to Carter, panic now setting in full force.

  Carter immediately sized up the situation. “Whatever went down started in the kitchen. Let’s go back there and figure out where to start looking.”

  Tyler nodded and ran back downstairs. People didn’t disappear without a trace. They would find something to help them track Joelle.

  If it wasn’t too late.

  Tyler pushed that thought from his mind. He had to focus on the mission. He couldn’t afford to start thinking of the potential costs. Or casualties. He rushed into the kitchen and this time went around the counter to avoid stepping in the glass. Carter was right behind him.

  At the edge of the counter, Tyler bent over and picked through the glass. “The bottom of the glass is here, which is probably where it broke. It scattered evenly in all directions, so it was probably dropped rather than thrown.”

  “I agree,” Carter said. “Was any of the glass tracked outside of the splatter?”

  “Yeah, toward the servants’ staircase, but that could have been me.”

  “Nothing else? Joelle is wearing tennis shoes. They wouldn’t pick up the glass like our boots.”

  Tyler leaned farther over until his face was only inches from the floor, looking for even a glint of light reflecting off of glass. His heart fell as he covered foot after foot of the stone floor without a single spec of glass. Then something caught his eye—a tiny shard several feet away.

  “That way,” he said, pointing toward the breakfast nook. “Only a single piece but well outside of the range it would have scattered from the drop.”

  Tyler walked to where the shard lay and checked again, but this time, he couldn’t locate another piece of glass. “Nothing else,” he said and glanced across the breakfast nook.

  “Wait!” He jumped up and hurried over to the dark object underneath the table. His heart leaped into his throat as he reached under the table and drew out Joelle’s pistol. He held the gun up to Carter, whose eye’s widened.

  “Damn it!” Carter said and stepped over to the patio door. “It’s open, and the storm’s moving in. We won’t have light for much longer.”

  “Start trying to find tracks,” Tyler said. “I’ll grab some flashlights.”

  Tyler ran to the butler’s pantry where they’d left the flashlights earlier. He grabbed them from the counter, but when he turned to leave, his boot hung on the rug. Drawing up short, he stared down at the ugly, rumpled rug, certain he’d left it flat and even.

  He looked out the patio windows where Carter was disappearing into the brush just off the kitchen. He should be out there, but something kept him from moving. It would only take a minute to make sure no one was down there.

  Before he could change his mind, he yanked open the door and ran down the stairs, shining his flashlight across the black room. Nothing. Disappointed, he turned to leave and his light flashed across the stairs. He froze, certain that piece of plywood had not been nailed up there before.

  “Joelle,” he called out.

  “Tyler!” Joelle cried out as she started banging on the plywood. “Get me out of here!”

  The sheer panic in her voice launched his anger into the stratosphere. He dropped the flashlight and grabbed a pry bar from the tools in the corner, attacking the plywood with everything he had. It only took two pushes before the plywood splintered and popped off the framing.

  He threw the plywood on the floor and reached out as Joelle leaped into his arms. Her entire body was shaking and he worried that she would go into shock.

  “Are you hurt?” he asked.

  “No,” she whispered between sobs.

  He held her tightly, overwhelmed with relief that she was safe, mixed with insurmountable anger at what Brant had done to her.

  “Let’s get out of here,” he said when the sobs finally wound down a bit. “Carter went outside looking for you.”

  She sniffed but allowed him to pull back from her. Her face was puffy and her eyes bloodshot, but she didn’t appear to have any physical injuries. Tyler knew, though, that the emotional ones were harder to overcome.

  “Can you walk?” he asked.

  She nodded.

  “You go first. I’ll be right behind you.” He fell in step close behind her. She was a little shaky walking up the stairs, but he was right there if she started to fall.

  She crawled out of the trapdoor and slumped onto the pantry floor. He climbed out and reached down to help her into the kitchen, where he sat her in a chair. The clean laundry still sat folded at the end of the breakfast table, and he grabbed a blanket and wrapped it around her.

  “I don’t want you to go into shock,” he said. “Keep this wrapped around you.”

  He pulled her pistol from his waistband and placed it on the table in front of her. Gripping her shoulders with both hands, he leaned over and looked her straight in the eyes. “I’ve got to go outside and get Carter.”

  “Hurry,” she whispered.

  He ran outside and down to the end of the patio where he’d seen Carter enter the swamp, yelling out his name. A couple seconds later, he heard someone running through the foliage, then Carter burst through a drapery of vines and skidded to a stop on the patio.

  “Inside,” Tyler said and hurried back inside, Carter right on his heels.

  Tyler locked the patio door behind them and gave Carter a rundown of how he’d found Joelle. Carter knelt beside her and took her hand in his.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Yes, but you have to go!” Joelle straightened up in her chair and Tyler could practically feel the tension rolling off of her. “It was Brant. He said he’d go after Alaina and Danae. You have to protect them.”

  Carter pulled out his cell phone and cursed when he saw there was no signal.

  “Go,” Tyler said. “I’m going to get Joelle to Doc Broussard. If the cell phones don’t work in town, I’ll call dispatch from Doc’s office and arrange a place to meet up.”

  Carter was already halfway across the kitchen before Tyler even finished speaking.

  “I don’t need the doctor,” Joelle said.

  “That’s not your call to make, it’s mine. I know you have a lot of experience with crisis, but you
’re usually on the other side of the desk, so no arguing. Besides, do you have any idea what my dad would do to me if I didn’t get you medical attention?”

  Although it was the truth, he’d said it to make her smile, and he gave her credit for the effort. He extended his hand down to her and helped her up from the chair. She was still a bit unsteady, but she no longer shivered, which was a good sign.

  “Do you have service yet?” Joelle asked as they exited the house.

  He checked his cell phone display. “No, but I promise I’ll check in with everyone when we get to Doc Broussard’s.”

  Joelle nodded and wrapped her arms across her chest. She seemed steadier, but she was so pale, and although Tyler wanted to make sure nothing was physically wrong with her, he was more worried about her mental health.

  No matter what, they had a long night ahead of them.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Carter paced from one end of the sheriff’s department office to the other so many times, he thought he’d wear a hole in the old carpet. Alaina perched on the end of the lobby couch, exchanging glances with Thelma, the gray-headed dispatcher.

  “What?” he asked on his tenth pass, as Alaina looked at him, eyebrows raised.

  “We’re just wondering whether to get you a drink or extra bullets, or perhaps call for new flooring.”

  He threw his arms up in the air. “Hell if I know. I’ve never been at such a loss. I’d tell all of you to get out of here and go to Mexico, but Brant won’t stop there. He’d just move on to me or Zach or Tyler or even worse, William or my mother.”

  “You think it’s that bad?” Alaina asked.

  “He dragged Joelle into the cellar and boarded her into a wall while Tyler and I were right outside. A cellar with one exit, and he took the time to nail plywood in place. We could have walked in at any minute and he’d have been trapped down there. That’s not sane.”

  “No, it’s not,” Alaina agreed. “But what do we do? I’ll bet I’ve been through every possible solution you have, including having all of us move in to that blasted house until this is over.”

  “He’d just launch a stick of dynamite through a window and get us all.”

  She sighed. “I got around to that, too. Face it, Carter, the best thing we can do is what we’re already doing. Stay put and stay aware. Did you find how Brant got in the house?”

  “I didn’t even take the time to look. I was too worried about getting word to you and Danae and I had no signal, as usual.”

  “The caretaker’s cabin and the rental cabin are still uninhabitable, right?”

  “Yeah. Zach hasn’t had time to address them at all, and his crew can only get so much work done over the weekend. With all the problems at the main house, I don’t think they’ve done anything on the cabins.”

  “So Joelle has to stay in the main house or leave and start her two weeks again some other time. Maybe that’s what needs to happen. Maybe she needs to get out of Calais long enough for you to find the entry point.”

  “No,” Joelle’s voice sounded in the doorway and Carter whipped around as Alaina jumped up from the couch and rushed over to hug her sister.

  “Sit,” Alaina insisted and guided Joelle to the couch. “What did Doc Broussard say?”

  “He says I’m lucky,” Joelle said, her voice breaking a bit. “I was in a bit of shock when I got there, but he gave me a shot of something and a bottle of something else.”

  Alaina nodded. “Antianxiety meds, probably. Don’t be afraid to take them. You, of all people, know how difficult this is going to be for you to process. Promise me, you will take your own advice when it comes to taking care of yourself.”

  Joelle’s eyes misted up and she leaned over to hug Alaina. “I promise,” she said as she released her.

  Alaina leaned back and narrowed her eyes. “What’s wrong with your shoulder? You’re holding your arm funny.”

  “I tried to break down the plywood. It’s not dislocated or anything but Doc Broussard said it’s going to be black and blue by tomorrow. It’s pretty sore.”

  Alaina rose from the couch and grabbed her purse from the dispatcher’s desk. “You guys catch up on everything. I’m going to run to the general store and pick up an ice pack and a heating pad. You’ll need both. I’ll be back in a sec.”

  “Alaina,” Carter said, and she paused in the doorway. “Be careful.”

  She gave him a single nod before hurrying outside.

  “So what’s the plan?” Tyler asked.

  Carter shook his head. “I’ve alerted the Jackson police and the state police, but neither of them have the manpower to send backup—at least, not until next week. So we’re on our own until then. If you want to leave—”

  “I don’t,” Joelle interrupted. “Location is irrelevant. I’d rather stay where I’m surrounded by people who care about me.”

  “Good,” Carter said. “I wish there were other options for living quarters, but if you want to meet the inheritance requirements, you’re going to have to stay in the main house. After that last storm blew through, neither of the cabins is fit for living.”

  “Don’t worry,” Tyler said. “I have some ideas about securing the house, at least at night. And from this point forward, Joelle will not be leaving my sight.”

  “I have to shower,” Joelle said with a small smile.

  “Then I’ll be standing outside the bathroom door with my pistol...or two.”

  “And my first day here, you said it wouldn’t come to that.”

  Carter smiled. “Think you can put that 24/7 guard plan on hold for thirty minutes or so?”

  “Why?”

  “I’d like to have another chat with Bert Thibodeaux. I still think he knows more than he’s telling me, and maybe if we explain that assault and kidnapping could be part of the deal, he’ll give something up.”

  “And why do you want me there?”

  “A second set of eyes. I’ve missed the boat so many times on this mess that I’m starting to second-guess myself.”

  Tyler looked over at Joelle, the hesitation on his face clear as day.

  “Go,” Joelle urged. “I’ll be fine. I’m sitting in the sheriff’s office in broad daylight. I couldn’t get safer if I tried.”

  He studied her a couple seconds more, then Thelma stood up behind the dispatcher’s desk and pumped a sawed-off 12-gauge.

  “Don’t worry,” she said with a broad smile. “I got you covered.”

  “Is that even legal?” Tyler asked.

  Carter patted him on the back. “I didn’t see a thing.”

  * * *

  TYLER WAS LOST in thought on the drive to Bert’s place, trying to put together all the pieces and at the same time, formulate a plan to ensure that Brant—or anyone else—didn’t get to Joelle. It was all jumbled together in his mind, and every avenue of thought he started down led to a dead end or more questions.

  Finally, he sighed and looked over at Carter. “I understand why you’ve been so frustrated over all of this. I mean, I thought I understood before, but now...”

  Carter nodded. “In all my years as a detective in New Orleans, I never had a case with so many moving pieces, and so many hidden ones. And never a crime that stretched back twenty-five years, implicating people along the way.”

  Tyler shook his head. “It’s impossible to determine what’s happening because of Brant and what’s happening because of Purcell.”

  “It’s always been that way. With Alaina, at first, I thought everything was about the estate, and I was wrong. With Danae, at first, I thought she might have brought trouble with her, and I was wrong. Now I’m sure it’s both, but it doesn’t put me any closer to catching Brant or exposing the rest of Purcell’s crew, much less their intentions.”

  “And you think Bert is par
t of Purcell’s crew?”

  “I know he was insofar as he was one of Purcell’s errand boys. He picked up the valuables Purcell bought with estate funds, then hauled them back to New Orleans for sale. Purcell promised him a new rig when he died, but Bert got screwed on that like everyone else Purcell made promises to. Bert tries to claim ignorance on anything beyond his trucking service, but I’ve always thought he was lying. He thinks Purcell owes him, and he’s definitely capable of trying to collect after the fact.”

  “So you think he knows something, but the question is, what? And is it relevant to anything else we’re worried about?”

  “Exactly.”

  Carter pulled his truck up in front of Bert’s cabin and parked it behind the man’s semi. “His pickup truck’s here,” Carter said. “That’s a good sign.”

  They walked to the front door and Carter pounded on it a few times. “Open up, Bert. It’s Sheriff Trahan.”

  Nothing stirred inside and Carter frowned. “Look in that window and see if you see anything.”

  Tyler walked over to one of the front windows and attempted to peer inside. The dirt and grime cut the field of vision, but he got a decent view of the man’s living room. “Looks like a pigsty.”

  “Yeah, I got a peek around last time I talked to him. He’s not winning any awards for housekeeping.”

  “There’s a red lace bra hanging from a lamp.” He straightened up and shook his head. “Some women really have no taste at all.”

  Carter laughed. “Clearly.”

  “Maybe he’s fishing,” Tyler said. “That pier doesn’t look in much better shape than his house, but it’s probably good enough for a boat launch.”

  “Yes, probably so,” Carter said and pounded on the door one last time. Finally, he sighed. “I’ll try again later.”

  As they turned to walk away, the door flew open and Bert glared at them.

  “Waking me up is getting to be a habit with you, Sheriff,” Bert said, his scorn clear when he said the word sheriff.

  Carter gave him a fake smile. “I don’t want to be here any more than you want me here.”