Divine Conspiracy (Divine #1)

by Rose Hudson

  I’m hit with the smell of fresh hardwood polish as I enter the back hallway. Good. Looks like the cleaning company came. Ah, I bet they forgot to lock up when they finished. I throw my purse into my office as I hasten past to turn on the five hundred lights Chanin had installed. I swear it takes five minutes just to turn on lights. I push the side button of my phone. Eight forty-five. Flipping of lights as I go, I stop at the design counter to turn on the overhead stereo system, only to have my eardrums busted at the volume when I do. Crouching down to locate the volume button, I dial it back about fifteen notches. Apparently there was a party here yesterday instead of retail therapy. Standing, I smooth the wrinkles of my favorite black pencil skirt and white silk blouse. But as I look up to see a woman standing on the other side of the counter I nearly fall back in surprise.

  “Good lord you scared the daylights out of me.” I giggle nervously, but her blank expression doesn’t change. I suddenly wonder if they’ve left the front door unlocked as well. “We don’t open for ten minutes, but if you’d like to go ahead and look around, you’re welcome to. Just give me about five minutes to…”

  “I’m not here to shop, Erin.” Her words are clipped, voice even. Okay, so she knows my name. I shift from one foot to the other, running one hand through my hair and putting my phone in the back band of my skirt with the other, waiting for her to continue, to tell me what she’s here for and how she knows my name. She moves to sit on the stool in front of the design bar and I notice a white SUV pull in front of the store. I look at the clock above the front door. Eight-fifty.

  “It looks like I’m about to have customers so if you’ll tell me what you’re here for I’ll try to help you as quick as I can.” A woman gets out of the SUV in front of the store and walks to the door. When she pulls on it the sound of the deadbolt echoes against the frame and she drops her arm. The door doesn’t open. The door is locked. Confusion rolls through me and I look from the door to the woman in front of me. Her blond hair is smooth and shoulder length. She looks to be about Chanin’s age, maybe mid to late forties. She’s wearing a long sleeve black t-shirt and the other half of her is shielded by the counter. Okay, maybe she followed me through the back needing something before we open. I’m running through possible scenarios in my mind while she sits there, calm and unmoving across from me.

  “What can I help you with Ms…?”

  “Josephine.” Clipped and irritated, her sharp answer echoes through the metal beams of the ceiling. Am I supposed to know her? Did Chanin forget to tell me about a meeting? She takes a small thin metal case from her bag and lays it on the counter, searching further before pulling out a lighter.

  “I’m sorry, but did we have a meeting scheduled today? With the holidays, things are starting to get crazy.” She shakes her head in denial, opening the case and pulling out a cigarette. “Ma’am, you can’t smoke in here.” A ruthless smile spreads wide as she places the cigarette to her lips, lifting the lighter up to it and sparking the flame. I startle when I hear the back door swing shut down the hall and right away I recognize that I hadn’t heard that sound earlier. With the hardwood floors and wide opens space of the high ceilings, every sound is amplified in the space. Why didn’t I hear her before I saw her? The confusion rolling through me amplifies and shifts into nervousness. I look over her head at the clock. Eight fifty-five.

  Out of my peripheral vision I see a tall masculine form to my left and I jerk my head in the direction to see a large man coming toward me, a ruinous glare in his dark eyes directed at me. Wait. I’m dreaming. I never woke up for work and I’m dreaming. This can’t be real. But the slap of his heavy boot-clad feet against the slick hardwood tells a different story. I’m stunned, unmoving as I register that he’s moving quickly toward me. A man I don’t recognize. A man seemingly on a mission. No! My mind screams as he wraps his arms around me. I try to mirror my conscience and scream, but no word or sounds, nothing comes. I fight against his arms as they wrap around me, but with ease he turns me. Holding one arm forcefully around my front, he shoves a damp cloth in my face with the other, the smell overpowering my senses as I try desperately not to breathe it in. I struggle as hard as I can, kicking my feet as he lifts me off the floor and begins to carry me away, but my limbs feel tired and weak. What is happening? Am I being robbed? Murdered? Kidnapped? My mind floods with pictures of my daughter and tears blur my vision. Oh God, Please no! All at once my mind starts to slow, breath heavy, slowing right along with time. Is this death? Ruth! God please don’t take me from her. Through my blurred vision I see the woman step down from the stool, putting her cigarette out on the counter before walking toward our retreating forms as we struggle down the hallway. Closer. Closer she comes.

  “I guess we’ll see how much Patrick loves you.” Her voice is distorted, sounding far away and muted.

  “Patrick…” I try to scream his name, but it falls from my lips in a whisper.

  I feel the space around me condense as we stumble further down the hallway, away from the grand windows of the storefront.

  Dark. Darker. Black…

  BEING THERE TO KISS Erin goodbye for work this morning was something I could get used to, and something I don’t think I ever could get used to. Watching her run around like a crazy woman had to be the highlight, though. I watched from the bed as she showered and got ready. Standing in simple black bra and panties as she pinned her hair up and put on the lightest layer of makeup was so domestically seductive that my dick tented the sheets. But today my thoughts of her aren’t limited to that of sinking deep inside her. Well, yeah they are but that’s beside my point. Today there is love in the place of lust. There’s an eternal possession where my hearts concerned. She owns me, but more importantly, my heart. I don’t know what forces brought her to me. Be it fate, God, a stroke of luck, or coincidence. Whatever it was, the force is strong.

  Not only did it bring me her, it brought me Ruth. The crazy kid sitting across from me at the bar Facetiming her ‘bestie’ because they haven’t seen each other in ‘like five days’ and they apparently can’t wait the ten minutes it takes Elleese to drive here, so they decided to video chat on their way here. She’s the most beautiful little mess, with her wild red curls piled on top of her head, a bright blue hoodie that aptly says ‘rock star’ across the front, and wide smile that looks just like Erin’s when she laughs. This kid is a fucking rock star. She’s strong and independent and kind and funny, just like her momma. And also just like her momma, I find myself falling in love with her too.

  I listen as they talk about Justin and how he called his best friend yesterday, who also happens to be Bre’s cousin, and how he feels like the little jerk I suspected him to be for ditching Ruth. Is it wrong that I love that? I mean he’s only twelve, but damn dude, act like a gentleman for God’s sake. I shake my head absentmindedly at myself, finding Ruth watching me and giving me the thumbs up when I look up.

  “We’re here!” I hear Bre say from the other end of Ruth’s phone. I reach behind me on the island and grab Ruth’s bag, handing it to her as she hops down off the bar stool. I expect her to head for the door, but instead she wraps her arms around my waist and squeezes.

  “Are you gonna come back tonight,” she asks, arms still hugging me.

  “If you want me to.” She looks up at me as she walks backwards toward the door.

  “I want you here every night silly!” She giggles and jogs down the hall. “See you tonight!”

  “I’ll see ya tonight. Have fun.” I can only imagine how big the smile is on my face, because it feels huge as my cheeks pull and my eyes squint at the now empty house. Chuckling, I grab her cereal bowl off the bar and rinse it before placing it in the dishwasher, like it’s the most normal thing in the world. Like it’s something I could get used to.

  I’ve always had a strong connection to the water. Working with my uncle and discovering my love of boats. Finding peace in its presence after my mom’s death, staring at it for hours in the days after my father�
�s. I expected a dark light to shadow over it, a deep resentment for it to develop after my uncle’s, but my relationship with the water remained strong even still. But I don’t think it’s ever appeared more vibrant and alive as the late fall wind blows over the surface, forming ripples as the tide rolls in and meets land’s edge.

  Standing on the dock of the boat shop, I feel like a proud child, excited and impatient, anxious to tell of my exciting news. As if the spirit of my parents somehow lives in these waters and I’m here to tell my mom she was right, that yes, meeting the love of my life is like jumping off a cliff and soaring all at the same time. To tell my dad that his prayer that I find someone as wonderful as Mom to love, came true. That although I’d lived through a temporary hell in my life after Josephine Draper came into it, now I could be free of it. Now they can rest easy.

  I almost wish Dawson was here to give me shit, but I couldn’t be happier for him and the fact that he decided to go home and see his mom. I understand better now why he hasn’t over all these years, but maybe now he can find some peace and a way to have a relationship with her, counting down the days until his peace of shit dad dies. I know that’s a shitty way to think, but some people in this world are just better off dead. Maybe he and Jo will be shackled next to each other in hell.

  Pulling my keys out, I unlock the office door, met with the stale smell of grease and a blinking light on the answering machine. I make a mental note to call the cleaning company that left a card on the door last week. I can count on one hand how many times I’ve cleaned this office in twelve years, and let’s face it, Dawson and I are some nasty fuckers. I hang my coat on the hook by the work bay door and walk over to my desk, powering up my computer and turning on the overhead light. Stretching my arms up over my head, I grin at the sweet ache in my back muscles, delighting in the reason for their soreness. A few sore muscles are well worth the chance to bury myself inside Erin, any day of the week.

  I couldn’t figure out how to work Erin’s one-cup coffee maker this morning, so the anticipation of a freshly brewed cup of jet-black is high on the list of priorities. Pulling out the canister of coffee grounds, I dip out three scoops and fill water to the ‘4’ line of the pot, my ideal brew. Deciding to check my emails while I wait for my liquid gold to finish brewing, I step back to my desk, pushing the play button on the answering machine before settling in my chair. I halfheartedly listen to the first of three messages as I type in my login and password. I peer impatiently around my computer screen to the coffee pot. Halfway done, sweet. My ears perk up at the sound of Melba’s voice on the second message.

  “Just wanted to let you know some woman came by here looking for you. Didn’t give me her name, but she didn’t look familiar. Haven’t seen you in the last couple weeks, so I thought I’d call you and tell you. Hope you had a good Thanksgiving, Hun.” I imagine it’s probably some old hook-up.

  Shaking my head at the possibility, I pull out my phone to send Erin a text, ask her if she wants to go to Charlie’s for a drink when she closes at three. But before I can get the words typed and sent, message three starts up and I’m frozen solid at the name spoken aloud.

  “This is Calvin Avery, Sheriff in Morgan City, Louisiana. I’m looking for Patrick Lawson. I’ve been trying to track you down for a month. It’s about Jo, Patrick. You’re going to need to call me back as soon as you get this. My number is…”

  I stand from my desk chair so fast it flies backward into the wall. My palms instantly break out in a sweat and the smell of the now freshly brewed coffee makes me nauseous as it hits my nose. I storm to the answering machine, rewinding the message and playing it again, praying that I had completely dreamed the entire thing. But of course I couldn’t get that lucky. After listening to it twice more I reach for my phone on the desk and dial the number. God, maybe he’s calling to tell me they found her dead. That’s the only thing that could make this sick feeling in my gut go away.

  “Sheriff Avery,” his voice is preoccupied as he answers the phone.

  “I had a message on my answering machine from you,” I reply stiffly, worry and anxiety running wild through me, a litany of prayers sounding in my head. There is a beat of silence and the echo of a door closing in the background on his end.

  “You’re a hard man to track down Patrick.” I’m shocked to hear that he knows who’s calling without me having to identify myself, causing fear to amplify at his immediate recognition.

  “If I’m so hard to track down then how is it that we’re having this conversation right now?” My own question sparks doubt within, making me think of Melba’s message before his and I already know what he’s going to say.

  “Land records are public record. And you need to be concerned about why I’m calling, not how.” Chanin’s words from that day flash in my memory.

  “But you’ve got to know where to look for Land records, Calvin. How’d you get to be Sheriff anyway? You never struck me as the law enforcement type in high school,” I snap, nerves taking hold of my common sense, prolonging the inevitable.

  “First of all, I’m on your side here Patrick. I can’t voice my personal opinion in this case, but I will say that I knew you were innocent back then. Secondly, I knew you were in Alabama based on your last probation report. And based on the new evidence that’s come into play, I’d say Jo knows where you are too.” At the mention of her name, my stomach lurches and I feel bile rise in the back of my throat. I grab my keys and my coat and start for the door, knowing if there’s one thing I need to do, it’s get the fuck out of here.

  “And why exactly would Jo care where I’m at? I’ve already done time for her mistakes.” I jump in my truck and crank the engine, spraying gravel as I peel out of the driveway.

  “Prints were run through AVIS that came back tied to Greer’s murder case. They were tagged and the guy was questioned during his detainment. I had a gut feeling and ran with it. Along with the assistance of the DA, we petitioned the court and had the case re-opened. Long story short, he caved Patrick; he admitted to being hired by Jo to kill Greer in order for immunity.”

  “So how does that involve me? Looks like you’ve got what you need.” My heart is hammering, head throbbing, foot pressing harder and harder on the petal, wishing to God that this mother-fucker would go faster, get me to Daphne, to Erin.

  “Because we can’t locate Jo. We think she got word of us looking for her, and fled. I can’t say for sure that she would come looking for you, but if she is capable of what she did to you and your family, she is capable of coming after you again. You need to come to Louisiana and talk with the DA. Since you were a juvenile then and no testimony was taken, we’re gonna’ need to get a statement from you, evidence to solidify this case.”

  “Right now, I’ve got two people I love that could be in danger if your right, and that’s what I need to worry about.” I hang up the phone without another word and dial Erin’s number. No answer. I call again. No answer. I look down at my phone, expecting her usual, “busy at the store, what’s up?” text, but it doesn’t come. I lift up and pull my billfold from my back pocket, setting it atop the steering wheel as I drive, fingers fumbling. Finding the black and gold business card, I press the numbers into my phone and wait.

  “Hello,” Chanin’s voice answers on the other end.

  “It’s Patrick, I can’t get ahold of Erin. Where are you? Are you in town?”

  “Yes, I’m actually at the store, since nobody showed up this morning.” My gut twists and my heart proceeds to beat out of my chest. I clench the steering wheel.

  “What do you mean nobody showed,” I ask already knowing the answer.

  “I mean that Shaylyn called when she came up to the store, the back door was unlocked and nobody was here. She said she tried to call Erin and couldn’t get ahold of her. What’s wrong Patrick?” I hear the click of her heels against the hardwood on the other end, quick and sharp. “Her purse is in her office. Patrick, what’s going on? Is everything okay?”

 
“No Chanin it’s not okay. I’ve got to locate Ruth; you call the police.”

  “And tell them what?” I try my hardest to remain calm, not wanting to jump the gun, but deep down I already know.

  I know why this dark cloud had been hovering over me for the last few weeks. I know that bitch is back. I know instead of coming for me, she decided to take every last thing in this world that I love. I know she took Erin. I can’t even make myself say the words aloud as I choke back tears at the thought of her, or Ruth, either one being hurt because of me- because of Jo. My foot presses to the floor. All the better if a cop pulls me over for speeding, then maybe they’ll get their asses on this quicker than they usually do about shit. I wipe my eyes with the pad of my thumb, rubbing my hand down my face as I bring it to the steering wheel. Like putting on a suit of armor, ready to battle, to find them and take back what’s mine and keep her safe forever, I shake off the sadness and fear and longing for Erin. Taking those emotions and twisting them tightly until they transform into determination and anger and revenge, preparing for the war transpiring as we speak. I clear my throat and tell Chanin the truth, driving as fast as this truck will go, setting out for revenge; to end this hold on my life that has now been cast over the two people I love most.

  “Tell them Erin’s been taken and I know who has her.”