by Jana DeLeon
“I sorta expected this,” Jackson said, “but it makes things a lot more complicated.”
“I know you can’t give me details of the case,” Corrine said, “but if you could somehow narrow down the type of thing you’re looking for, I might be able to get more information. Lord knows, the Garden District society will be lined up at my door as soon as they hear I’m back.”
Jackson looked over at Grayson, who frowned.
“We’ve managed to keep it out of the news so far,” Grayson said, “but Ross St. Claire was murdered.”
Corrine’s hand flew up over her mouth. “Oh my God. That’s awful.”
“The longer we can keep it out of the press,” Grayson said, “the better chance we have of catching the person who did it. It began as a missing persons case, and we’ve allowed friends, students, university employees, business associates, and other family members to assume that’s still the case.”
“I just don’t understand,” Corrine said. “Ross wasn’t an overly likable young man but that’s not usually something you get killed for.”
“I agree,” Grayson said, “which is why we’re looking at his father.”
Corrine nodded. “Of course. Well, your secret is safe with us.” Corrine reached into a drawer and pulled out a pad of paper and pen and started jotting down some names.
“Here are the names of people with Archer Manufacturing that I know had direct dealings with Malcolm,” Corrine said, and handed the paper to Jackson. “I doubt they’ll have any trouble telling you their opinions.”
“Thank you,” Grayson said. “For the names and for your time. I’m sorry to bother you so soon after your return.”
Corrine thought about everything that was headed her way as soon as the press discovered she was back in New Orleans.
She looked at Grayson and sighed. “You’re not even the storm clouds before the hurricane.”
Roots!
Ethan dropped the broken piece of broomstick and flopped backward, his back hitting the wall of the shack.
His prison.
He’d been digging for hours. His shoulders and arms burned so badly it made him cry and now the muscles were so knotted that he couldn’t even move them an inch. He had to rest, but he knew he couldn’t afford to. Whoever had locked him in here had to have something in mind, and it couldn’t be anything good. Ethan had seen enough horror movies to know what happened to people locked in creepy old shacks.
The ground was a mixture of dirt and clay and was hard, sometimes almost like stone. It was such slow going and he needed a hole large enough to fit his head and shoulders through. He was skinny, but his shoulder bones were wide. This was probably the first time in his life he actually wished he were even smaller. Right now, the hole was maybe half as big as it needed to be and the ground had gotten harder the deeper he’d dug.
Now that he’d hit roots, things would go even slower. He didn’t have anything to cut them, which meant he’d have to bang on them until he could break them. So far, the roots he’d uncovered were about half an inch in diameter. Not horrible to deal with, but still time-consuming. He hoped there weren’t any larger ones beneath.
He leaned over a bit and turned his wrist to check his watch. Three hours since he’d started. The slivers of sunlight that filtered through the cracks in the walls seemed to be coming from overhead and to the right. It was probably midafternoon, which meant it would be dark sooner rather than later. He stretched his hands out and winced at the pain that traveled up his arms.
He could work in the dark. That wasn’t the problem.
The problem was not knowing when his captor would return.
Shaye walked into her mother’s kitchen and slid onto a stool. Despite her late waking hour, the day felt very long. Probably because she had spent two months sitting and staring at the ocean rather than moving among people and constantly looking over her shoulder for a media van.
Corrine removed a tray of cookies from the oven and sat it on a cooling rack on the counter. “You look exhausted.”
“I am.” Shaye saw no reason to lie when her mother could clearly see the fallout from her reentry into New Orleans life.
“Did you run into problems?”
“Not press kind of problems, if that’s what you mean. So far, we’re still under the radar.”
“It feels weird, right?”
“It’s definitely surprising, but I wouldn’t put much hope in another day of this. Once people start talking, it’s only a matter of time until someone thinks they can profit from a tip.”
Corrine pulled a bottle of water out of the refrigerator and slid it over to Shaye before sitting across from her. “Don’t remind me. I’m trying to rebuild my faith in the common man, remember?”
“How’s that going?”
“I like Eleonore and you.”
“That’s efficient, if nothing else.”
“So what’s bothering you? Is it Jackson? I assume you went to see him this morning.”
“I went by his apartment this morning and had coffee.”
Corrine studied her for a moment. “And everything’s okay?”
“Everything’s fine.” Shaye knew Corrine was dying to know what her feelings were for Jackson, but Shaye hadn’t sorted them out completely herself. She wasn’t about to bring her mother and all her opinions into the mix.
“I saw him this afternoon,” Corrine said.
“Really? Why?”
Corrine filled in Shaye on the detectives’ secret visit. Shaye smiled as Corrine described the clothes and truck full of lawn tools.
“Grayson must have been miserable,” Shaye said. “He’s always impeccably dressed and groomed.”
“He looked more than a little uncomfortable, but it was a great idea. A camera crew from one of the news stations was parked across the street from the gate and they didn’t so much as blink.”
“Maybe we should try it ourselves.”
“It would have to be a hell of a disguise for us to pass unnoticed.”
“We could be nuns.”
Corrine smiled. “Because nuns parading around my house wouldn’t be remotely suspicious.”
“You don’t date. Maybe people will assume you’re pursuing a new career.”
“Plenty of people don’t date. They don’t all become nuns.”
“True. Probably better to leave them all assuming you’re pursuing Eleonore.”
“Shaye Archer!” Corrine threw a dish rag at her. “What a thing to say.”
“Admit it. If you and Eleonore were batting for the other team, you’d already be married and arguing about that ugly china.”
“It scares me sometimes, how well you know me.”
Shaye took a drink of water. Her mother’s words were so accurate and yet, strange. Accurate because Corrine was an open book with Shaye and always had been, which made her easy to read. Strange because Shaye had spent so many years knowing Corrine better than she knew herself. Now she was playing catch-up and every returning memory was a new instance of pain to process. She tried to hide it from Corrine, but she was certain her mother could tell when some new horror had come rushing back into her mind.
“So Ross St. Claire is missing?” Shaye asked. “Did they check Malcolm’s yacht or their condo in Miami?”
Corrine frowned. “I’m going to go ahead and tell you this, but you have to promise not to mention it to anyone. The police are keeping this part confidential because you know how secrecy is sometimes a good thing for them.”
Shaye stiffened. “Is Ross dead?”
Corrine’s eyes widened. “Yes. I’m not sure I want to know why you immediately leaped to that.”
“Was he murdered?” Shaye asked, her palms starting to sweat.
“Yes. They didn’t provide any details and I didn’t ask, but they were here asking questions about Malcolm.”
“They think someone had a grudge against Malcolm and used Ross as the payback?”
Corrine nodded. “I’m pretty s
ure that’s the case. Like I said, they didn’t provide much detail. I don’t know if that’s because they wanted to make sure the details didn’t go any further or because they were afraid it would upset me.”
“Probably both.”
Corrine leaned across the counter and looked directly at Shaye. “You want to tell me why you’re so interested? And how you knew Ross had been murdered? I could see it in your expression.”
“I didn’t know. I just had a feeling.”
“It’s a bit of a leap from poor little missing rich boy, which we both know Ross has pulled his share of times, and murdered rich boy.”
Shaye sighed. She’d had this idea that maybe she wouldn’t have to tell Corrine she’d taken on a case right away, but she’d also known the thought was absolute folly the moment it had entered her head. She was living in her mother’s house. There was no way she could conduct an investigation without Corrine knowing. She couldn’t conduct a shower without Corrine knowing.
“I sorta took a case today,” Shaye said.
“No!” Corrine’s dismay was obvious in her tone and her expression. “We just got back. You’re not ready and I’m not either.”
“All of that might be true, but the girl needs my help now. It can’t wait.”
“Send her to Jackson.”
“She’s already been to the police.”
Corrine stared at Shaye for several seconds, then sighed. “I assume they didn’t take her seriously?”
“No.”
“What happened?”
Shaye knew the story would upset her mother, especially after learning about Ross St. Claire’s murder, but she didn’t see any reason to keep it from her.
“She’s a student at Lafitte University. A friend of hers is missing.” Shaye told Corrine everything that Tara had told her and what she’d learned about Ethan Campbell. When she was done, Corrine rose from her chair, poured herself a glass of wine, and took a big sip. The color had drained from her face a bit as Shaye explained the situation, and after the drink and a long silence, it started to return.
“You think the three are connected?” Corrine asked. “This Ethan Campbell, Ross, and the girl in the coffin?”
“I don’t know for sure, but I find it strange that three students from the same university have gone missing within a week of each other and two of them have been found dead.”
“Did anyone receive a text about Ross?”
Shaye shook her head. “I don’t know, but if they’re all connected, then Amber Olivier, the girl in the coffin, would have received the text about Ross. Unfortunately, I don’t know anything about that case except what’s been released to the media.”
Corrine took another sip of wine. “I’m not even going to ask what kind of person could come up with such a thing—like it’s a game. I’ll probably never ask that question again as long as I live given what we’ve seen and experienced. But I will ask why? What could a handful of college students who don’t seem to be connected in any way have done to cause this kind of retribution on them?”
“I have no idea. By all accounts, Ethan was a quiet nerdy type who had to be forced to socialize. Aside from breaking the grading curve in classes, it’s hard for me to imagine what someone like him could have done. Even his jock roommate didn’t have anything bad to say about him.”
“What about Amber Olivier?”
“I’m working on a way to find out how she died. If the police are treating it as a homicide, then I’ll pursue that angle and talk to her sorority sisters tomorrow.”
“The police have probably already questioned them.”
“Yeah, but they might be more willing to talk more openly to a woman who’s not a cop.”
“And who’s close to their own age.” Corrine shook her head. “I’m not even going to try to tell you not to do this, because it’s insulting to us both, and I’ve officially given up banging my head against walls. But I will tell you to be extra careful. You of all people know how things can go terribly wrong.”
“I plan on doing everything out in the open. No empty-building searches. No trips into the swamp. No venturing into tombs.”
“I don’t have to remind you that as soon as the media know you’re back, you won’t be able to take a step without them following.”
“I know.” It was Shaye’s main concern and had been on her mind all afternoon. If the media started hounding her, and she had no doubt about that, she wouldn’t be able to effectively do her job. Even worse, if they caught her questioning Amber Olivier’s sorority sisters, the New Orleans police would hear about it and have grounds to come after her for interfering in an open investigation. Shaye knew her credit was all used up with the police, at least as far as management went, and the last thing she wanted to do was bring more heat down on Jackson simply because they were in a relationship of sorts.
She stiffened.
A relationship.
She’d actually thought that.
She took in a deep breath and slowly let it out. But what did Jackson think?
9
Tara walked toward the back of the library, peeking into the private rooms as she went. So far, she’d been cursed at three times and had received more dirty looks in the past ten minutes than she had in the previous year. In one room, she’d seen more of a girl’s body than was appropriate to display in the library, even in a private area. Truthfully, it was probably too much to display on a beach.
When she reached the rows of computers in the big room all the way at the end of the first floor, she flopped into one of the chairs. She didn’t know why she felt so disappointed. She hadn’t really expected to find Ethan in the library. It wasn’t as though he would disappear for days and then just reappear and go study without even returning her calls or texts. And God knows, she’d sent plenty. If anyone but Ethan checked his phone, they’d think he had a stalker.
Even though she knew it was an exercise in futility, she’d checked every single row of bookshelves and the study room on the second floor. She’d shown Ethan’s picture at the front desk and asked if anyone had seen him the last two days. No one had. Then she’d pissed off everyone in the private rooms and gotten an eyeful of boobs and still she had absolutely nothing to show for it, except aggravation and a bit of embarrassment.
It had been a big waste of time. She’d known that before she ever left her dorm room, but she couldn’t just sit there doing nothing. It was driving her crazy. Shaye had promised to look into Ethan’s disappearance, but that didn’t mean Tara could just wipe her hands of it all and go back to her life as if nothing was wrong. Because something was definitely wrong. The police might not believe her, but Shaye Archer had. That was something, at least.
She reached into her purse for her cell phone and even though there was nothing on the display, she accessed the text and phone messages anyway. Just in case the phone fritzed and didn’t ring or vibrate or display the message on the front screen. All of that.
Nothing.
She dropped the phone back in her purse and headed out of the computer area. Maybe she’d go to Ethan’s dorm room and ask everyone she saw if they’d seen Ethan. Maybe she’d get lucky and have something to give Shaye.
The sun was going down as she stepped out of the library and started down the big cement steps. A girl wearing a hoodie approached her as she stepped onto the sidewalk.
“You,” the girl said.
“Me?” Tara asked.
“Yeah. What’s your name?”
“Tara. Do I know you?”
“I’m Brenda. I saw you at a party a couple weeks ago. The one at Alpha house.”
“Oh, right.” Brenda looked vaguely familiar, but Tara couldn’t remember having spoken to her. “Can I help you with something?”
“You were there with a guy—skinny, nerdy?”
Tara’s pulse quickened. “Ethan. Have you seen him?”
Brenda frowned. “I saw him at the party with you.”
“I know that. I meant in
the last two days.”
Brenda narrowed her eyes at Tara. “Why do you ask? You’re not one of those crazy, jealous girlfriends, are you?”
“Ethan and I are just friends, but he’s missing. Since Sunday night. The police won’t take me seriously. They think he’s out partying, but they don’t know him like I do. Ethan would never take off like this and I had to practically drag him to parties.”
“Yeah, he didn’t look like the partying type.” Brenda pulled her phone out of her pocket. “I got this message earlier. I thought it was someone screwing with me, but then I remembered I’d seen this guy somewhere before, I just couldn’t place it. Then I saw you and it clicked.”
Brenda turned the phone around and showed Tara the image in her text messages. Tara took one look at Ethan and her knees buckled.
“Oh my God,” Tara said. “He looks dead. Is he dead?”
“How the hell should I know? I got this weird-ass message and this picture. I don’t know what you guys are involved in, but I don’t want any part of it.”
“We’re not involved in anything. I swear.”
“He’s missing, isn’t he? And I’ve got some creepy, might-be-dead picture on my phone. That sounds like involved in something to me. I don’t need any trouble. I’ve got enough already without my mom seeing something like this and completely losing her shit. I’m already grounded for the rest of the semester.”
Tara tried to follow Brenda’s logic but clearly, the girl was mentally processing some battle with her mother and saw the text as something that could cause her more trouble. She either didn’t see or didn’t want to see any other implication.
“Can you send the text and picture to me?” Tara asked.
“I don’t know. I told you, I got trouble already.”
Tara clenched her hands and resisted the urge to throttle the silly, self-centered girl. “How much trouble do you think you’ll be in if I go tell the police you have a picture of a missing person on your cell phone and didn’t report it?”
“You already said the police didn’t believe you.”