Dreadful

by Jana DeLeon

  She waved her hand over the baggy gray sweatshirt with flowers on it and the navy sweatpants.

  “She wouldn’t have wanted to share my wardrobe then,” Shaye said. “I prefer comfortable to fashionable, much to my mother’s dismay.”

  “Mothers never have good ideas about what their daughters should wear. If Momma had her way, I’d be wearing dresses down to my ankles like one of those girls from Little House on the Prairie.” She stared off into the woods. “Sometimes we dressed alike, though. It was always Caitlyn’s idea. Boys, you know? The whole twin thing got their attention. Then Caitlyn culled the herd and picked out the one she liked.”

  “And you?”

  “I was never really into that whole thing, but I didn’t see any harm in doing it. It made Caitlyn happy.”

  “It appears as if Caitlyn spent a lot of time on boys.”

  Jenny nodded. “I didn’t understand it for a long time. I mean, she never seemed to take any of them seriously and was always scheming about how to get one, even if she already had one on tap. But as I got older, I started to realize why.”

  “Do you mind telling me?”

  “It was because of me. I got all the attention, you see. Not because I wanted it, but because of my health, I always needed more than Caitlyn. I hate to say it, but our parents barely noticed what she was doing half the time because they were too engrossed in whatever malady I’d acquired. That’s why I didn’t mind doing things like dressing alike. Caitlyn liked the attention and it was the least I could do, really.”

  Shaye nodded. “I can see why you’d feel that way. For a long time, I felt guilty for being a burden to Corrine, my adoptive mother. Even though she’d chosen to take me on, knowing exactly what she was up against, I know that I altered her life in ways she could never recover from.”

  “See? That’s why, after Marisa told me about you, I wanted you for this. I knew you’d understand in a way that no one else could.” Jenny glanced at the house, then looked back at Shaye, a sad expression on her face. “Do you think your mother regrets it?”

  “No.” Shaye’s response was immediate. “And neither does your mother. Your parents tried for years to have children—she told me so herself. They wanted you and did the best they could. That’s all any of us can ask.”

  Jenny nodded. “I know you’re right. Momma has always said as much. But I can’t help feeling like I weigh her down. Especially since Caitlyn disappeared. I made things harder on everyone, and I regret that.”

  “Everyone understands how difficult this is for you. I think you underestimate how much they care about you.”

  Jenny frowned. “No. I don’t think I do. I think the reason I feel guilty is because I know exactly how much they care. Therefore, I know how much I affect their lives. Which leads me to where I am now and why things are going to change.”

  “Like what things?”

  “For starters, I’m going to ask you to stop the investigation. I don’t know what happened to that bartender or why, but I don’t want it happening to anyone else. He was perfectly fine until I had you poke around in the past. Whatever he did doesn’t matter now. Maybe it never did.”

  Shaye studied the girl for a bit. Her voice was calmer than usual, but Shaye could see the strain on her face when she spoke, and her clenched hands gave away how much tension she felt.

  “I will respect whatever you choose,” Shaye said, “but Cody Reynolds’s death changed everything. Even if I stop asking questions, the police will continue.”

  Jenny sighed. “So you’re saying it’s too late—that what I set in motion can’t be stopped?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe. Maybe not. You said something happened to you earlier. What?” Shaye didn’t believe for a moment that Jenny had changed her mind just because of Reynolds’s death. She’d known about that yesterday and still been adamant. Something else was driving this change of heart, and Shaye wanted to get to the bottom of it.

  Jenny stared out into the woods for a long time. “Someone tried to kill me today,” she said finally, her voice barely a whisper.

  “What?” Shaye straightened on the bench. “When? How?”

  “In the woods. I like to walk on the paths. It’s peaceful, and it gets me out of the house. But today, there was something wrong. Something restless and, I don’t know, malevolent. I could feel it all around me. When I started back to the house, I heard someone behind me. I tried to see, but the woods are too dense. I started to jog down the path, as fast as I could through the uneven terrain, and when I reached the fields, I ran.”

  “The shot came past my head,” she continued. “It was so loud—like a cannon going off right beside me. I knew he was close, so I just kept running like I’ve never run before. Momma came off the porch with her rifle, but I ran right past her and into the house.”

  Jenny looked Shaye straight in the eye. “Don’t you see? I could have died. Momma could have died, and I don’t know what I’d do without her.”

  “Did you report it to the police?”

  “No. There’s deer poachers this time of year. And with nothing to go on but my feelings…”

  “I’m sorry,” Shaye said. “I know it was horribly frightening. Are you all right? Your mother?”

  “Momma tries to never show she’s scared, but I know it shook her.”

  “And how are you doing?”

  Jenny gave her a small smile. “I’m drinking and reading romance novels, which I haven’t done since college. A farmer’s wife who lives a ways past us stops by to see if we need anything when she’s headed into town. She’s a nice woman. I think I startled her by asking for romance books and beer, but she delivered it, just like I asked for. Momma took one look at my choices and opted for an early bedtime.”

  Shaye nodded, struggling to control her disappointment. Not because she was losing the case but because she was losing her ability to protect Jenny. But if Jenny felt more comfortable with the investigation stopped, then that’s what she would do.

  “I’m really sorry that happened, and I understand your reasons,” Shaye said. “I’ll type up my notes and deliver them to you. But you still need to be very careful. My involvement, one way or another, might not make a difference now. Is there somewhere you and your mother could go for a while? Even a couple days?”

  “Marisa tried to get me to stay with her, but I told her no. I’ve already put her in harm’s way by asking for her help. I can’t stay with her. Not with Maya there. And the only way Momma’s leaving this house for more than groceries or a doctor visit is if the coroner’s carrying her out.”

  Jenny’s eyes widened. “I shouldn’t say that. It used to be a joke, you know, about her being such a hermit. But now…”

  Shaye rose from the bench and went over to squeeze Jenny’s shoulder. “You have my number. If you need something, anything, give me a call. It doesn’t matter what time.”

  Jenny nodded. “Thank you for everything you’ve done. I know you think you didn’t do much, but talking with you really helped. People don’t know what it’s like to have gaps in their own mind. They think I can just push it away and go on like nothing happened. But it’s not that easy.”

  “No. It’s not.”

  “But you did it. Even before your memory started returning, you got your degree and started your business. And you had it way worse than me. So if you can do it, then so can I. Sitting in this chair is fine for today, but I don’t want to become Momma.”

  “Then you won’t. Stay safe, Jenny.”

  “You too.”

  Shaye headed around the house and took off in her SUV. When she got to town, she started to veer toward the highway, then changed her mind. Before she left, she wanted to have a chat with Marisa. It wasn’t that she didn’t believe what Jenny had told her. She thought everything had gone down exactly as the young woman described. But Jenny’s comment about the poachers had also gotten her to thinking, and Shaye would feel better if Marisa confirmed that it was most likely a case of a stray b
ullet from illegal hunting.

  She checked the time. Almost 6:00 p.m. Late enough that Marisa should be home from work but not too late. She wouldn’t stay long, but she didn’t want to leave Ponchatoula without getting Marisa’s take on things.

  Both cars were in the drive when Shaye pulled up to the curb. She made her way up the sidewalk and rang the bell, hoping Maya wasn’t already asleep. Several seconds later, Marisa opened the door, giving her a surprised look. She pushed the door open.

  “Please come in,” Marisa said. “I was expecting my mom. She’s had Maya out all day and I figure bath and bedtime will be in short order after they arrive. What can I do for you? Do you have more questions?”

  “A few. Can we sit for a minute?”

  Marisa seemed anxious, and her flitting around made it harder to get a read on what she was thinking.

  “Sure,” Marisa said. “The kitchen is the only place not cluttered with toys. Is that okay?”

  Shaye nodded and followed her through the living room and into the kitchen, where they sat at the same breakfast table they had last time they’d talked. “Is Rick here?”

  “He’s in bed. He wasn’t feeling well. Do you need to talk to him too?”

  “No. I just came from speaking with Jenny. She wants me to stop the investigation.”

  “Oh no!” Marisa said. “She’s spooked, isn’t she? Did she tell you what happened?”

  “That’s why I’m here. It’s not that I don’t believe Jenny’s account. I just wanted to get a more levelheaded opinion on what it meant.”

  Marisa nodded. “I have to admit that the first thing I thought of when she called was poachers. The investigation didn’t even factor into my thoughts until Jenny brought it up. Granted, that was a couple seconds later, and I probably would have gotten around to that possibility, but still. It wasn’t my first thought.”

  “And now that you’ve had some time to dwell on it?”

  “I still think it was poachers. I do believe someone fired a gun. Jenny was terrified when I spoke to her. I could hear it in her voice, and Virginia heard the shot and reacted, so that much I’m certain of. But if he wanted to kill her, wouldn’t he have fired again when she was running in the open field?”

  “Maybe. But playing devil’s advocate, if we assume he was firing at Jenny, then maybe he retreated because he gave away his position and plan with that first shot that missed. He might have valued getting away before she called the police as more important than setting up for another shot. It’s not like he could walk onto the street and fade away in the crowd.”

  Marisa bit her lower lip. “I told her she could come stay here, but she refused because of Maya. Maybe I should ask again.”

  “I don’t think she’ll leave, and honestly, she seemed less frightened when I talked to her and more determined. Almost calm compared to her previous demeanor. She said being shot at had made her realize how much she’d been holding on to the past and she was going to change that.”

  “Really? That would be great.” Marisa’s voice sounded resigned, not hopeful.

  “But you don’t think it will actually happen.”

  Marisa shrugged. “I don’t want to be that way, but I also don’t want to get my hopes up, you know? I’ve done it so many times before. It’s been hard to watch Jenny slide downhill a little more every day. I guess I’ve been praying for a miracle but not really thinking it would happen.”

  Shaye nodded. “I understand. Well, I can only hope for your sake that she’s serious about making changes. I told her I’d type up my notes and get them to her. I’ll also be writing a check to refund the balance of my retainer. I can drop it off here if you don’t want to wait on mail.”

  “Yes.” Marisa frowned. “No.”

  “Mail it?”

  Marisa looked at her. “I’m sorry, I’m not making sense. Do you think you could just hold off a couple of days? See if she changes her mind?”

  “If that’s what you’d like. I won’t work on the case, though, unless she asks me to start up again.”

  “That’s fine. I just have a hard time believing Jenny is done with this. But maybe it turns out I’m wrong and we’ll all be better off.”

  Shaye rose. “That’s what I’m hoping as well. Please call me if you need anything. And just in case this wasn’t a random poacher misfire, please be careful.”

  19

  JACKSON SHOVED his hands in his pockets as Grayson knocked on the door of Garrett Trahan’s condo. His unit was located in one of the upscale buildings in the French Quarter complete with a doorman and front desk. The desk clerk had checked their ID, made a log of their names, and then contacted Trahan to let him know they were there. Given Trahan was an attorney and had a reputation for being a jerk, he’d half expected to be told to go away and contact Trahan’s attorney if they wanted to speak to him. He was a bit surprised to be standing at the door now.

  But that also told him one of two things—either Trahan had nothing to hide or he thought he was smarter than them. Hopefully, they’d be able to figure out which during the interview. The door swung open, and Trahan motioned them inside. Jackson recognized him from his picture on the law firm’s page. He’d thought the man in the picture looked egotistical and overly impressed with himself. Seeing him in person hadn’t changed that assessment.

  “What can I do for you, Officers?” he said, his tone both condescending and amused.

  “Detectives,” Grayson corrected even though Jackson was sure the use of the wrong title was an intentional slight. “We’re investigating a recent murder and have reason to believe you might know the victim.”

  “I can’t imagine that I do,” Trahan said. “I don’t usually consort with the kind of people who get murdered.”

  “You’re implying that decent people are not subject to the same risks as criminals?”

  “Less so for sure,” Trahan said. “But if a friend, family member, or someone I worked with had been killed, I think I would have heard about it before now. So who’s the victim?”

  “A man named Cody Reynolds. Do you recognize the name?”

  Trahan shook his head. “It doesn’t sound familiar. But the firm I work for represents a lot of people. I suppose it’s possible I’ve seen his name listed as a beneficiary of a trust or maybe a trustee.”

  Given that the firm Trahan was employed with mostly did the bidding of the wealthier set of the city, Jackson doubted he’d seen Reynolds’s name on any paperwork, but he also hadn’t shown any signs of recognition when Grayson had stated the name. And he’d been watching closely. Either Trahan didn’t know Reynolds, or he was a great actor. At the moment, Jackson could go either way.

  “Mr. Reynolds was a bartender at the French Revival,” Grayson said, “the bar your girlfriend disappeared from six years ago.”

  “Caitlyn was just a girl I dated, not my girlfriend. And I’ve never been in that bar.”

  “Why not?” Grayson asked.

  “What do you mean, why not?” Trahan asked, his perfect veneer showing a tiny crack. “Because I haven’t. Is there a law that says if I live here I have to go in every bar in the French Quarter?”

  “No,” Grayson said. “I just figured a young single guy like yourself would have made the rounds most everywhere, and the French Revival is a fairly popular place.”

  “Yeah, well, it isn’t popular with me,” Garrett said.

  Grayson nodded. “Maybe that’s because you found out Caitlyn had been seeing Reynolds at the same time she was seeing you?”

  “What?” Trahan asked. “I don’t know…you don’t think…?” His face turned red and Jackson could see his jaw clench. “I’m going to ask you to leave.”

  “Why is that?” Grayson asked. “If you don’t have anything to hide, what’s the problem?”

  “I’m an attorney,” Trahan said. “Don’t try to bullshit me. If you want to speak to me again, you can talk to my attorney.” Trahan pulled a card from his wallet and handled it to Grayson. “So unles
s you have a warrant or you plan to arrest me, I believe this conversation is over.”

  Grayson stuck the card in his pocket. “Your choice, but lack of cooperation only makes us look harder.”

  “Look all you want—you and that Archer bitch can look until the cows come home. You won’t find anything.”

  Jackson clenched his hands, fighting the urge to punch the asshole right in the mouth.

  “We’ll see,” Grayson said, casting a glance at Jackson. “Good night, Mr. Trahan.”

  Jackson followed Grayson into the hall and headed for the elevator.

  “Good job not clocking him,” Grayson said.

  “I’ll probably regret it later. We got him rattled, though.”

  Grayson nodded. “He’s a cool customer. Took some poking to do it.”

  “You insulted his manhood. Good call on that one. We didn’t get an alibi for time of death though.”

  “Wouldn’t have mattered. Trahan lives alone. He’ll just say he was at home asleep or getting ready for work or having breakfast. Whatever. No one to prove it either way.”

  “The building has security.”

  “For strangers coming in, but there’s a parking lot. I’m sure residents can come and go using pass codes or key cards or something of the like.”

  “Then wouldn’t we be able to track his movements that way? Or maybe the parking lot has cameras.”

  “We’d need a subpoena, and we don’t have enough for one.”

  Jackson sighed. “Too bad being an arrogant ass isn’t enough.”

  “Then half of New Orleans would be on the chopping block.”

  “Sure feels that way some days.”

  Grayson clapped his hand on Jackson’s shoulder. “Don’t worry about it. Guys like Trahan always slip up eventually. Too smart for their own good. Let’s go see if the computer came up with anything on the images we loaded. I have a feeling it’s going to be a long night.”

  SHAYE SEPARATED the folders she’d gone through by year and then stacked them on her desk. She grabbed another box and headed to her kitchen counter, where she’d already had a pot of coffee and a container of Corrine’s sugar cookies. She’d managed to cram ten boxes into the back of her SUV, and she was about to start her review of her fourth box. So far, she’d found a whole lot of nothing. Most of Allard’s work centered on child custody cases during divorce. She’d reviewed the files of a couple of them, just to get a feel for his thought process, and decided Mr. Allard worked with a single-minded purpose.