by Jana DeLeon
She slipped the phone back into her pocket and told Shaye what Henry had said.
Shaye frowned. “I don’t like it.”
“I don’t either, but if the street’s full of cops, like Henry says, then nothing can happen, right?”
“I guess not, but I’m going with you. I’ll be right behind you.”
Relief coursed through Emma. “Thank God.”
A million thoughts ran through Emma’s mind as she drove to Algiers Point. Why had the police been inside Mrs. Pearson’s house? Had she been robbed? But if that were the case, why wouldn’t they tell Henry? Why fix on her? And why all the secrecy?
By the time she pulled down her street, she’d convinced herself that Henry was probably overreacting. He was always fretting about, getting dramatic over the way people parked and how people walked their dogs. This was going to turn out to be nothing.
Three police cars and an ambulance parked on the street in front of Emma’s house changed her mind. The upbeat spirit she’d tried so hard to work up disappeared like vapor and her stomach churned. Something was seriously wrong. She pulled up behind one of the police cars and parked, Shaye pulling in behind her. Emma hesitated for a moment, then climbed out of her car and walked up the sidewalk with Shaye, fighting the panic that was starting to set in. Why was the ambulance here? Who was it for?
Two cops stood on the sidewalk in front of Mrs. Pearson’s house next to the ambulance. As they approached, Emma looked over at the ambulance and was shocked to see Patty sitting there, an oxygen mask on her face. She rushed over to the Realtor.
“What happened?” Emma asked. “Are you all right?”
Patty nodded and held up a finger.
“A little more,” the paramedic said to Patty.
“What happened?” Shaye asked the paramedic.
“I’m not completely sure. When we got here she was on the steps. Her breathing was so labored she was about to pass out, so I got her over here and got the mask on her.”
Emma and Shaye looked over at the house and Shaye tapped Emma’s arm when a young detective walked out. “That’s Jackson, the detective I’ve been talking to.”
Emma nodded. “I remember him. He came the night I…that night. He was kind.”
Jackson’s gaze locked on them and he gave them a brief nod.
“His partner must be here,” Shaye said. “He’s got seniority and from what I can tell, pretty much prevents Jackson from actually working.”
“The fat older guy with nose hair and a widow’s peak?” Emma asked.
“That’s probably the one.”
“He wasn’t kind. In fact, he was an asshole.”
“Definitely the one.”
“Emma,” Patty wheezed and Emma and Shaye moved closer to her.
“Don’t try to talk,” Emma said. “You need to get your breathing right first.”
“I’m okay,” Patty insisted. “It was horrible. I’ve never…I didn’t…Jesus, it’s the worst thing I’ve ever seen.”
Emma’s pulse spiked. “What happened?”
“Mrs. Pearson’s nephew called. They’ve been trying to reach her and she wasn’t answering. She leaves a key with me when she goes out of town, in case something happens. She was supposed to pick it up yesterday, but when she never called, I figured she’d stayed longer with her new grandbaby. I didn’t think… Oh my God.” Patty burst into tears and the paramedic handed her a tissue.
“Someone killed her!” Patty blurted out. “And took her eyes. What kind of person would do that? I don’t understand. She was such a nice lady, and she didn’t have anything much of value. Why would someone hurt her?”
As soon as Patty said “eyes” Emma froze. No. It couldn’t be. “I don’t know why, Patty,” Emma managed to force out. “I’m so sorry you found her. Is there anything I can do?”
Patty shook her head. “I just need to get my wind back and get home. I tensed so much my muscles are in knots.”
“I can help with that, ma’am,” the paramedic said.
“Shaye!” A man’s voice sounded behind them and they turned around.
Jackson hurried up to them and motioned them to the side.
“Patty said Mrs. Pearson was killed,” Emma said.
Jackson nodded and looked at Emma. “I heard there was trouble at the hospital last night. Detectives were waiting to talk to you this morning. They weren’t happy to find out you’d split.”
Emma felt her back and neck tighten. “I don’t really care that they were unhappy. If the police had listened to me, Mrs. Pearson and that paramedic might still be alive.”
“I know that,” Jackson said. “I’m on your side, believe me, but you’re going to have to talk to them. Your neighbor has probably been dead a couple of days, but with the eye thing…detectives have finally connected the dots and they all point back to you.”
Emma felt tears well up in her eyes. Every time she thought she was going to finally escape, everything got worse. “Why Mrs. Pearson? It doesn’t make any sense. We’re neighbors but we’re not particularly close.”
Jackson nodded. “Nothing in the house was disturbed but I noticed footprints in the dust in the attic.” He pointed at the small window on the front of the house near the roofline. “Right below that window. I think he was watching you from there.”
Emma stared at the window, then looked across the street at her house. Her skin began to itch. “When does it end?”
“Soon,” Jackson said. “Ron’s girlfriend is at the precinct right now filing a complaint. I told the lead detective on the paramedic murder about the domestic abuse complaint and what Shaye found out about David and Ron serving together. They’re looking for him. He’s exposed now. It will be over soon.”
Emma nodded. She could tell by his expression that Jackson was telling her the truth, and she wanted to believe him, but she’d invested too much hope in things that had never materialized, and she simply couldn’t afford to any longer. She’d celebrate when Ron was behind bars. Not a moment before.
“What do you need me to do?” Emma asked.
“Can you come down to the police station now so we can get everything documented?” Jackson asked. “It will take a while and we have uncomfortable chairs and horrible coffee, but you’ll be safe there.”
“You make it sound so enticing,” Emma said. “Once you have my statement can I leave? New Orleans, I mean?”
“Just leave us a way to contact you, and you’re free to go wherever you’d like,” Jackson said. “You’re the victim here, Emma. If anyone tries to make things hard on you, remind them of that.”
“Thank you,” Emma said. “I know you’ve been helping Shaye.”
“I’m afraid I wasn’t much help. Shaye put the entire thing together.”
Emma glanced over at Shaye, who looked slightly uncomfortable with the compliment. “I wouldn’t have made it this far without her,” Emma said.
“You’re stronger than you think,” Shaye said quietly.
“Then let’s get this over with,” Emma said. “Can we go now?”
“Absolutely. I assume you want to drive yourself and meet there?”
“Yes.”
“Okay,” Jackson said. “I’ll go let my superior know I’m heading back to the station.”
“Do you need me right now as well?” Shaye asked.
“We’ll definitely need you, especially once we have Ron in custody. The DA will need your testimony to build the case against him, but it doesn’t have to be today. If you need to get back to your mother…”
Shaye nodded agreement, but the expression on her face wasn’t one of concern for her mother. No, Emma had seen that look before—like a dog with a bone. There was something Shaye wanted to get away and do, but Emma would bet anything that it had nothing to do with Corrine.
“Go straight to the station,” Shaye said to Emma, “and call me when you leave.” She looked at Jackson. “Can you send someone to pick up her things at the hotel while she’s being
questioned? I don’t want her returning there. In case he’s watching.”
“I’ve got it covered,” Jackson said.
“Thanks.” Shaye gave Emma a quick hug and headed off down the sidewalk.
Jackson stared after her several seconds and Emma felt a tiny quiver in her stomach when she realized his interest in Shaye was deeper than this case. She wondered if Shaye had noticed, but guessed that she hadn’t. A man would probably have to advertise in neon before Shaye paid attention. But still, a tiny sliver of happiness ran through her. Every day was an opportunity for something better. Maybe her horrible situation contained a silver lining after all, for Jackson and Shaye.
It was something she planned to daydream about on her long drive to California.
Only happy thoughts from now on. Even if they were about other people.
###
Shaye jumped in her SUV and took off. As she drove, she pulled out her cell phone. On the way to Emma’s house, she’d received a call from Charlie Evans. She hadn’t answered because she’d been on the phone with Eleonore, but he’d left a message that she’d listened to just as she’d pulled up to the curb at Emma’s house.
She pressed Play on the message and Charlie’s voice boomed over her truck speakers.
Hey, uh, this is Charlie Evans from Wellman Oil and Gas. You talked to me the other day about David. I thought of something I wanted to tell you. Anyway, I’m at home if you want to call.
She hit the Call button and Charlie answered on the first ring.
“This is Shaye Archer.”
“Oh, yeah. I remembered something…I don’t know that it means anything, but you said to call…”
“You never know what might be important. What did you remember?”
“One night offshore, one of the engineers got real drunk and was acting a fool. We were all laughing at him and David said he was dumber than Dugas.”
“Is Dugas another employee?”
“We ain’t got a Dugas working here. I didn’t think about it at the time because I got a cousin Toby that says the same thing, but then I remembered it and thought you might want to know.”
Shaye frowned. If there was a point to Charlie’s story, either he hadn’t made it yet, or she had missed it entirely. “I’m not sure I understand.”
“Shit. I’m not explaining it good at all. Dugas was a half-wit that lived in the place Toby grew up. The people that live there say it, but I don’t see why David would know it, unless he was from there too or had been there at least.”
Shaye’s pulse quickened. “What’s the town?”
“I don’t know that it’s a town, really. More like a spot in the road a couple miles from Port Sulphur. My cousin called it Hamet, but I ain’t never seen it on a map.”
“Port Sulphur…Highway 23?”
“Yeah, that’s it.”
“Thank you for telling me.”
Shaye pulled into the nearest parking lot and used her phone for a quick Google maps search. No surprise when Hamet didn’t pull up, but Port Sulphur was only a forty-five minute drive. She tossed her phone on the passenger seat, but when she went to put her SUV in gear, she stopped and reached for the phone again. This time, she searched “David Grange” and “Hamet.”
Then she gasped.
Bayou News, June 2000
Hamet Boy Drowns
A ten-year-old boy from Hamet drowned last week. A local fisherman pulled the body out of the bayou and identified the boy as David Grange Jr., son of resident grocery store owner David Grange Sr. and wife Abigail Grange. The family could not be reached for comment.
The next link was an obituary for David Grange Sr. His death was one week after his son’s drowning and no cause of death was given. The timing made Shaye wonder if it was suicide. Surely if there had been any indication of foul play, in either death, the police would have investigated. She did a search on the wife and came up with an address in Port Sulphur. No phone number, but then the questions she had weren’t the kind you asked people over the phone.
She pulled out of the parking lot and headed the opposite direction of the city. Emma was safely tucked away at the police station and would soon be far away from New Orleans. The police were looking for Ron, and with any luck, he’d be behind bars soon. The worst was behind her client, but if Shaye could get Emma answers about the stranger she’d married, it would be the icing on the cake.
Not knowing was awful.
Like a slow-moving cancer silently eating away at you.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Jackson looked through the one-way window into the interrogation room as Detective Murphy took Emma’s statement. For Emma’s comfort, he wished he could have taken it himself, but between the information Shaye had been feeding him and what Emma told him before Murphy arrived, Jackson figured he was pretty much up to speed on everything relevant.
“Hell of a thing.” The desk sergeant stepped up next to him. “That poor woman thought her problems were over when she killed that son of a bitch she was married to, and now this.”
Jackson nodded. “It’s an awful lot for one person to handle in a short span of time.”
“I heard the attack on Corrine Archer might tie into this somehow. You know anything about that?”
“Yeah. Corrine’s daughter is a PI. Emma hired Shaye to find her stalker because Vincent blew her off.”
The sergeant shook his head. “I know our hands are usually tied until we have something viable, but it wouldn’t have killed Vincent to look into it.”
“It might have. He seems to think anything but driving that desk will send him to an early grave.”
The sergeant clapped him on the shoulder. “Hang in there. I know being saddled with Vincent is keeping you from doing the work you want to do, but it won’t be forever. Vincent will retire or he’ll be assigned another new guy. Either way, you’ll be in the thick of it soon enough.”
“I hope so,” Jackson said as the sergeant headed down the hall for the front desk.
Jackson stared at Emma as she wiped tears from her eyes with her fingers. It didn’t have to come to this. Emma should never have had to endure what she did the last six days. Shaye’s mother shouldn’t have been attacked. That poor old woman and the paramedic shouldn’t be dead.
All because the police’s hands were tied and Vincent was too lazy to check anyway.
His cell phone rang and he checked the display. “Shaye? Is something wrong?”
“No. Actually, I’m tracking down a lead on David Grange.” She told him about Charlie’s phone call and the news article. “I’m on my way to Port Sulphur to talk to the widow. If the man calling himself David Grange was from around there, maybe she’ll recognize him.”
“Wow.” Jackson took a couple of seconds to process what Shaye had told him. “Are you sure you want to keep digging? The cops are combing the streets for Ron. The hunt is almost over.”
“The hunt for the stalker is almost over, but Emma still doesn’t know who she married and why he flipped on her. I know it won’t change anything that’s happened, but I think if I can get her some answers, it will help her move forward.”
Because Jackson knew Shaye was speaking from experience, he couldn’t find a solid argument to use to try to talk her out of her plan. “I get it. But be careful. That widow has had her share of tragedy, too. She might not want to talk.”
“Then I’ll find someone who will. I’ll give you a call if I find something. Is Emma at the station?”
“She’s giving her statement now.”
“Good. Make sure she gets out of there safe. I don’t want to hear from her again until she’s at least a state away or Ron’s behind bars.”
Shaye disconnected and Jackson slipped his phone back in his pocket and frowned. Something about Shaye’s trip to Port Sulphur was bothering him but he couldn’t put his finger on why. Ron wasn’t from Port Sulphur, or anywhere near there. Nor did they have any reason to think David had ever told him the truth about his own p
ast. The likelihood of Shaye running across Ron was slim to none.
But still, the whole thing left him with a general feeling of unease. He’d feel better when Shaye was back in New Orleans, in residence at her mother’s heavily secured home. At least until Ron was behind bars.
###
Traffic was practically nonexistent on the lone road to Port Sulphur, so Shaye managed the drive in less than forty minutes. Her cell phone service was sketchy, so it took her a bit to locate the widow’s house, but finally, she pulled through an ornate entry and down a driveway lined with azalea bushes. The house was bigger than she would have thought she’d find in such a tiny place. Not as big as Corrine’s, but the construction was solid and it was kept nicely. Owning a grocery store must be a lucrative business in Port Sulphur.
She parked in the middle of the circular drive and knocked on the massive hand-carved wooden door. About twenty seconds later, the door swung open and a sixtyish, heavyset Creole woman looked out at her. “Can I help you?” the woman asked.
“My name is Shaye Archer. I’m a private investigator from New Orleans and I’m trying to track some information for a client. I wondered if I could speak to Mrs. Grange.”
The woman narrowed her eyes. “Mrs. Grange ain’t got no business in New Orleans. No friends or family either. Can’t imagine she could help you.”
“I’m trying to get information on a man that I believe used to live in the area. I was hoping Mrs. Grange knew him.”
“Mrs. Grange ain’t left the house for almost fifteen years. Why you asking her?”
“Because the man I need information on has been using the name David Grange.”
The woman’s eyes widened. “What you mean, using the name?”
“He’s been living, working, has a Social Security card, and even got married using the name David Grange. I’ve been trying to track him and information led me here. Imagine my surprise when I find out the real David Grange passed away when he was a boy.”