Dreadful

by Jana DeLeon

He flipped past a picture of Reynolds posing with fish and stopped when he saw a pic of Reynolds with a pretty blonde. She was younger than him and looked vaguely familiar. He flipped the photo over and read the inscription.

  Me and Caitlyn.

  Shit! That’s why the girl looked familiar.

  “What’s wrong?” Grayson asked. “You have that look like you ate something bad.”

  Jackson showed Grayson the picture. “The woman in this photo went missing from the French Revival six years ago. She was never found.”

  “Wow. You remember a missing person from six years ago? That’s some serious facial recall.”

  “No. I remember her from a picture from a case file Shaye showed me last night. This girl’s sister hired her yesterday to look into this. It went cold with the department years ago.”

  Grayson’s look of dismay reflected exactly how Jackson felt. Most cops were past the situation that had been exposed regarding their former police chief, and most had never really blamed her for what happened. But many held a grudge because she’d been the catalyst, even though they knew the truth needed to come out. Still, the mandate forbidding police involvement with civilians regarding investigations had been made clear almost daily for weeks. And everyone knew why.

  Intentionally or not, Shaye had set forward the chain of events that exposed some unpleasant things about the police department. The last thing the new administration wanted was to give her an inroad to do it again.

  “Does Shaye know anything about Reynolds?”

  “I don’t know. I was so tired I wasn’t awake for long. She only told me that she’d taken on a missing persons case, and I saw the photo paper clipped to her file. I think she questioned a bartender last night, but I can’t remember the details. Which is why Reynolds’s name and the bar didn’t raise a red flag. My mind was kinda shot.”

  “We’re going to have to bring her in for questioning,” Grayson said. “I’m sorry, man.”

  “Don’t apologize. Shaye won’t mind. She knows how it works. Besides, she’s going to want to know who killed Reynolds as much as we do, maybe more.”

  “You said her client was the missing girl’s sister?”

  “Twin. Shaye said she’s been a mess ever since.”

  “Let’s just hope being depressed is all she has to deal with.”

  Jackson nodded. He’d already thought the same thing. The timing of Reynolds’s death and Shaye’s investigation was definitely suspicious. And if Reynolds had known more than he’d told the police, then someone could be cleaning house.

  Which meant Jenny Taylor might be in danger.

  10

  SHAYE WALKED into the police station and smiled at the desk sergeant, Robert Royer. He’d been a fixture at the station for thirty-two years and at the desk since his knee sidelined him from the more active aspects of police work. He returned her smile. Sergeant Royer had remained one member of the department who was always happy to see her.

  “Ms. Archer,” he said. “How are you doing?”

  “I’m good. Thank you. How is Susan?”

  “She’s taking a pottery class, and we’re overrun with ashtrays. The fact that no one smokes is apparently lost on her. She says she’s working her way up to a vase.”

  Shaye laughed. “Please tell her I said hello. My mother was asking about her the other day. You know she’s starting up her own corporation to help kids? I think she was hoping that Susan would be interested in helping with some of the setup, particularly the rules for the living quarters.”

  Sergeant Royer and his wife had fostered children and knew the complications one experienced taking on kids who had issues to address. “I’m sure she’d be willing to do anything to help,” Royer said. “We’re very excited about what Corrine is doing. It’s going to make a huge difference for the children in the community.”

  “That’s the plan. I’ll remind her to give Susan a call. I’m here to see Detective Grayson.”

  Royer nodded. “They’re in room two.”

  “Thanks,” Shaye said and headed down the hallway. She’d been in the station enough times to know exactly where she was going. The burning question in her mind was why she’d been called there. She hoped her new case hadn’t ruffled feathers already, but she’d crossed no legal or ethical lines and neither had Jackson. Still, getting the phone call from Grayson earlier had her worried, and the two-hour delay she’d had before the meeting had left her even more worried.

  The fact that Jackson hadn’t contacted her reinforced her thought that somewhere, somehow, her actions had crossed into police territory. Shaye had made Jackson promise to never risk getting on management’s radar with his relationship with her. That meant no contact about police work, especially when he was on the clock. Their interaction during the day was mostly limited to texts and then only what time they were meeting. If the department subpoenaed Jackson’s phone records, they wouldn’t find anything to complain about.

  Jackson and Grayson were already in the room when she entered, both sitting and talking low over some papers. When she walked in, Jackson jumped up and pulled out a chair for her, motioning to her to sit.

  “Thank you for coming down here,” Grayson said. “I know it’s a disruption to your day but unfortunately, this couldn’t wait.”

  “What’s wrong?” Shaye asked. Grayson’s tone was serious, not aggravated. Something had happened. Something that involved her. “Is it Clancy? Did they find something else in the records?”

  “It’s not Clancy,” Jackson said. “It’s Cody Reynolds.”

  “The bartender at the French Revival?” Shaye asked, completely confused. “Did he file a complaint? He agreed to talk to me.”

  “He’s dead,” Jackson said. “Murdered.”

  Shaye’s mouth dropped open. Of all the things she’d imagined she might hear, that wasn’t even in the dark reaches of her thoughts. “When? How?”

  “This morning in Metairie Cemetery,” Grayson said. “Jackson said he thought you interviewed him last night. Can you tell me about that conversation?”

  “Sure.” Shaye recounted her exchange with Reynolds, including her observations on his behavior before, during, and after the interview, because she knew that was part of what Grayson wanted as much as the actual dialogue.

  “And you didn’t notice any nervousness?” Grayson asked when she finished.

  Shaye shook her head. “If he was worried about anything he certainly didn’t show it.”

  “The other employees at the bar have him labeled a ‘cool customer,’” Grayson said. “Apparently, they had trouble getting a read on him too, and some of them had known him for several years. No one seems to know much about him. At least not that they’re saying.”

  Shaye nodded, still trying to wrap her head around the fact that the man she’d just talked to the night before was now lying on a slab in the morgue. What wasn’t lost on her at all was everything that Grayson wasn’t saying.

  “Do you think it has something to do with my case?” she asked.

  “His wallet was intact, so it wasn’t robbery,” Grayson said. “Our guess is he went there to meet someone. He had a pistol in his apartment that he left behind, so we’re also assuming it was someone he knew.”

  “And wasn’t afraid of,” Shaye said.

  Jackson looked over at Grayson, and he nodded. “We found this when we searched his apartment.”

  Shaye took one look at the photo and gasped. “That’s Caitlyn. Or Jenny.”

  “The back says ‘Me and Caitlyn,’” Jackson said. “There’s no date, so we have no way of knowing when it was taken. But even if Reynolds is telling the truth about that night, he lied about recognizing the photo you showed him. Clearly, he knew Caitlyn, and the body language in this photo doesn’t look like the kind between people who are just friends.”

  “No,” Shaye agreed. “It looks like they were involved. One of Caitlyn’s friends thought she was seeing someone on the sly—someone they probably wouldn’t appr
ove of—but Reynolds never crossed my mind. How could I have missed this?”

  “I wouldn’t take it as a reflection of your ability,” Grayson said. “The employees at the bar were all surprised when I showed them the photo, and I don’t think any of them were faking. If Reynolds was involved with Caitlyn, it appears it was so well kept that no one who knew either of them was aware.”

  Jackson nodded. “And after Caitlyn disappeared, Reynolds probably figured it was in his best interest to keep his mouth shut permanently.”

  “Well, he did a stellar job then,” Shaye said. “I completely bought his act.”

  “I think everyone did,” Jackson said.

  “Apparently, one person didn’t,” Shaye said. “But the question is why? I get Cody keeping his mouth shut so that he didn’t become a suspect in Caitlyn’s disappearance, but why was he killed now? And if it’s because of my investigation, then that tells me he knew something or was part of something, but he wasn’t the only one.”

  “We’re looking at other avenues, of course,” Grayson said. “There’s always a chance his murder has nothing to do with your case.”

  “But that’s not what your gut tells you, is it?” she asked.

  “No,” Grayson said. “I think we all have the same opinion on the matter, which is why we’re giving you information. If hiring you prompted this, then it might not stop with Reynolds.”

  Shaye nodded. “Jenny and her friends could be at risk for hiring me.”

  “Or one of them knows something they’re not telling you,” Jackson said. “Cody Reynolds certainly wasn’t forthcoming with his answers. Maybe he’s not the only one.”

  “I’m sure you dumped his phone,” Shaye said. “Did he contact someone? Did someone contact him? What about the phone at the bar? The meet at the cemetery had to be arranged sometime, and if they went to such trouble to avoid being seen, I can’t imagine the person who killed him waltzing into the bar to set it up. Or risking being seen at Reynolds’s apartment, for that matter.”

  “We dumped his cell and the phone at the bar,” Grayson said. “One number was called from both places, and the first call was shortly after you questioned Reynolds. There were no text messages. We’ve subpoenaed them from the phone company but that will take a while. Unfortunately, the number belonged to a prepaid phone and it’s turned off.”

  “It’s probably at the bottom of a bayou now,” Shaye said.

  “Probably,” Grayson agreed. “Anyway, we don’t have anything else to go on, but I thought you needed to know about Reynolds. I assume you’ll be questioning your clients more about their knowledge of Caitlyn and Reynolds’s relationship, and I needed to make you aware that we will be as well. I’m not asking you to step back from the case. Caitlyn’s disappearance is not our primary concern. Just how it relates to Reynolds’s murder.”

  Shaye nodded. “I get it. I’m sorry our paths had to cross this way. I know it makes things more difficult for both of you.” She frowned. “What happened to the kidnapping? Weren’t you supposed to be on that day and night?”

  “That’s a long story that I’m sure Jackson will share with you later,” Grayson said. “But the short explanation is a congressman and the FBI.”

  “Oh,” Shaye said, immediately understanding the implications. “I’m sorry. I think it’s a mistake to take you off the case. I know that doesn’t help, but it’s the way I feel.”

  “I appreciate that,” Grayson said. “Well, Jackson and I need to get out of here. We need to make the drive to Baton Rouge to speak with Reynolds’s parents. We want to make the notification in person.”

  “Hey,” Shaye said. “There’s someone you need to talk to—Garrett Trahan. Caitlyn had just broken up with him before she disappeared, and they fought in a bar earlier that night. She accused him of following her, but his friends alibied him, although I doubt they’re telling the truth. I talked to him this morning and was less than impressed.”

  She told them about her conversation with Garrett and the phone buzzing before she left.

  Grayson nodded. “We’ll have a talk with Mr. Trahan tomorrow.”

  Shaye nodded. “Stay safe. Both of you. And if there’s anything else I can do…”

  She rose from her chair and gave Jackson a small smile as she headed out, their entire exchange running through her head. So many unanswered questions. If Cody didn’t know anything about Caitlyn’s disappearance, then why was he killed? And assuming the killer had known about Cody’s involvement or knowledge all along, why wait six years to kill him? Because of her investigation? That seemed weak. Cody had managed to keep it all a secret this long. Why take the risk to kill him now, when his murder would immediately be associated with her case? If someone thought he was a liability, it would have been easier to kill him years ago, when Caitlyn’s case was collecting dust.

  SHAYE LEFT the police station and directed her SUV onto the highway toward Ponchatoula. Jackson and Grayson’s priority was interviewing the victim’s parents in Baton Rouge, which left her client and friends for the next day. But Shaye didn’t want to wait a day for them to receive word of what had happened. They needed to be on alert that Reynolds’s death might have something to do with the investigation, and Shaye needed to give them an opportunity to change their minds about moving forward. She wouldn’t really blame them if they did. It was a horrible feeling, walking around with a target on your back, constantly looking over your shoulder and unable to trust anyone. For six years, they’d been left to grieve in silence. Shaye didn’t believe for a moment that Reynolds’s murder was unrelated to her case. The timing was too exact.

  She checked her GPS as she drove through the quaint downtown and directed her vehicle down one of the farm roads outside of town. Houses were spaced by rolling acres of farmland and woods now, each so far from the other that they enjoyed complete privacy. Shaye could appreciate the sprawling land and the way the stars looked at night when there were no city lights to dim their glow, but she couldn’t see herself living that far away from everything. As much as she was an introvert who preferred to avoid social events, she also liked living in the center of anything she might need. Especially restaurants. Cooking was likely something she was never going to take a liking to.

  The GPS indicated she’d reached her destination and she slowed, almost missing the narrow dirt road on her right. The sun was starting to set, and the woods cast dark shadows over the overgrown land. She could see a house about a hundred feet into the property and figured that must be the place. She drove slowly, attempting to dodge the worst of the holes, and finally arrived at what appeared to be an old church, complete with steeple. The white paint was peeling and some of the siding was loose and had slipped but with a little work, it could be charming. Of course, that work also required money, and since Marisa had covered Jenny’s retainer, that was probably where the gap existed.

  She knocked on the door and waited. Light shone through the sheers covering the front window, and there was an old Cadillac out front, so she hoped that meant Jenny and her mother were at home. She waited a bit, then knocked again. When no one answered, she stepped off the porch and decided to walk around to the back of the house. They might have livestock or some other chore to handle in the evening.

  The grass, what there was left of it, needed mowing, but she picked her way through the lawn to the back of the house. There was a structure that looked like a chicken coop some ways from the house and an old barn even farther, but neither looked as if it’d been used recently. A shed sat closer to the house, but there was an outside latch and it was drawn. She heard a noise to her left and looked over to see an elderly woman sitting on the back porch in a rocking chair. Grandmother, maybe?

  She headed for the steps and walked up, noticing that the woman never bothered to look at her, just kept staring directly out at the woods behind the barn.

  “Excuse me, ma’am,” Shaye said. “I’m looking for Mrs. Taylor.”

  The woman shifted her eyes to Shay
e but never moved her head. “You found her. Ain’t got no money for what you’re selling.”

  “I’m not selling anything. I’m a private investigator from New Orleans. I’d like to talk to you about your daughter.”

  Virginia sighed. “What’s Jenny done now?”

  “I meant Caitlyn. Jenny hired me to look into her disappearance.”

  That comment got more than a tired response. She looked up at Shaye, her brow scrunched. “Jenny don’t drive. Never has. And she don’t have money.”

  “Her friends brought her—Marisa and Rick—and Marisa covered my retainer.”

  Virginia shook her head. “Marisa was always a good girl and she’s a good woman, but she needs to let this go. Needs to let Jenny go and move on with her own life. No need in Jenny keeping all of us in the past. Well, if you’re going to keep talking, sit on that bench there. Hurts my neck to look up at you.”

  Shaye took a seat across from Virginia. “Do you mind my asking about Jenny’s health? I get the impression she’s not well and hasn’t been for some time. I don’t want to make things worse.”

  “Can’t make something worse if it’s already at rock bottom. Jenny’s been unwell since the womb. The doctors said Caitlyn was taking more than her share of nutrients and such and it left Jenny sickly. Spent two months in the hospital before we could bring her home. Never quite got right. If someone in the next parish sneezed, she caught their cold. If she fell, she’d bruise and her muscles would knot quicker than other kids. Probably could have paid for a new Cadillac with all the money I spent on doctors and medicine.”

  Shaye nodded, the comments others had made about Jenny’s health now making sense. “That must have been difficult for you. Jenny lives here with you and Mr. Taylor now, right?”

  “She lives here, but there ain’t no Mr. Taylor anymore. He went into the grave a year after Caitlyn disappeared. Heart attack. Men of his generation didn’t talk about feelings and such. Maybe he’d have lived longer if he did.”

  “You think the stress killed him?”