Crimson Bayou (Things that go Bump in the Bayou Book 1)

by Alizabeth Lynn

  “But what about—?” The slamming door cut her sentence in half, leaving Carissa gaping at Eleanor’s exit.

  Chapter Two

  The next day, after a restless night and little sleep, Carissa watched the moving crew load up her belongings. Somewhere around midnight the night before, she had made her final decision. It was time to go home and face whatever life planned next. The fear and sadness she’d felt in the days before evaporated in a cloud of anticipation as she dropped the keys to her apartment at the landlord’s office. It was official, there was no turning back.

  On the long drive back to Jaune, she had time to reflect on the past year and all the things that had changed, reaffirming her decision to go home. Even though their marriage was rocky, she’d thought her life was over when Ryan died. She couldn’t imagine how it would be easier to move on as a widow instead of a divorcee, although, as time passed, her love for him faded faster than she anticipated. This left her wondering if her feelings for him had ever been as strong as she wanted them to be.

  They’d met in the spring of 2010 at LSU Shreveport, where Carissa was majoring in business management and Ryan in journalism. The fact that they were from the same small town was enough to cement their relationship. Neither would have to give up their home, which at the time, seemed like a perfect scenario. They married in August of 2011, and lived in apparent bliss until the missing child case in March of 2012, when everything changed.

  Carissa gripped her steering wheel a bit tighter, but didn’t try to stem the flood of memories. Both her mother and her nana thought it would be best for her to embrace the past, and maybe they were right. Her marriage to Ryan had been short and rocky, but it was still a piece of her. At this point, she and her mother agreed about one thing, only: at least they didn’t have children together. Carissa wanted to be a mother, but the first time she brought it up, her husband clammed up and wouldn’t talk to her.

  When Ryan finally came around, it was after the discovery of his occult interests and the discussion about the ritual he insisted would help with everything. Carissa didn’t feel the same way, believing that the choice to have children or not was something that should stay between the two of them, and if she was honest, she was put off by his odd behavior. He’d called her his mate more than once. At first, she brushed it off, thinking it was something he picked up by reading – an accidental use of the term – but he’d continued using the word.

  She shook her head and rolled her window down to feel the fragrant wind on her face—the scent of sweet wildflowers and slightly stagnant swamp water blended together, making her smile, despite her maudlin thoughts. Maybe she should have asked him more about the things he was into, but something always made her stop and pull back before she did so. Throughout her life, she’d always followed her gut, and in those instances, something told her she probably didn’t want to know more. Now she was wondering if that was the best choice. Maybe once she’d settled in she would dig out his old laptop and finally figure out what all the fuss was about. Her mind made up and her heart settled, Carissa turned the music up and blasted the Lacs on her way into Jaune, garnering waves from people she knew as she drove down Main Street.

  It was good to be home.

  Hours later, Carissa did her best to juggle bags of groceries, her purse, and the task of unlocking the door to her house. She’d mentally kicked herself all the way up her front path to her porch.

  “I should have left the damn groceries in the car,” she grumbled, “but no. I had to complicate things. Like. Freaking. Always.”

  She shook her head, rolled her shoulders, tossed her hair from her face, and aimed for the keyhole once more. Success! Carissa took a careful step into her house and bumped the door closed with her hip. With an awkward shuffle, she maneuvered her purse strap off her shoulder and dumped the handbag onto the little table inside her front hallway. Unfortunately, her hip knocked into the unstable table, knocking it and the purse over and spilling all of her possessions onto the hardwood floor.

  Shaking her head again, she leaned down and tossed the bags on her left side toward her back to keep them from spilling. She righted the table, and reached out to pick up her purse. All at once, one of the bags on her arm slid forward, the plastic flying out of her grip and throwing its contents onto the floor to mingle with the items from her purse. Carissa rolled her eyes to the ceiling. Some things never changed. Muttering under her breath, she took her remaining bag into the kitchen and put up those food items before walking reluctantly back into the hallway to clean up her mess.

  As she finished, she couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled in her throat. She was never the most graceful person, but this was a stretch, even for her. Granted, she had spent the day unloading furniture and boxes before taking a trip to the Mini-Mart for groceries. She’d even called her nana and told her she could start work as early as tomorrow, insisting she didn’t need time to settle in, and was already raring to go. Eleanor told her she was glad to see her feeling better, but when Carissa once again attempted to find out the identity of Garrett, her nana hung up on her.

  Smiling at the old woman’s secretive ways, Carissa headed into her kitchen to grab a Coke from the fridge. Carissa popped the tab on the lukewarm soda as she sat down and stared through the window across from her. This was going to be her first night alone in the house since a week after Ryan’s death, and she couldn’t wait for it to be over. Carissa closed her eyes and took a deep breath. According to her mother, it was past time for Carissa to move on. The house didn’t even look the same. With the new paint and new furniture, there was no more evidence of the tumultuous marriage that played out within the brick walls—or the night it all went dark.

  Carissa stood up and pushed her long hair behind her shoulders. There was no reason to think like that anymore. The past was the past, and it seemed her mom may have been right. The more she thought of it, the more she realized there was no point in being sad any longer. She could take comfort in the fact that she and Ryan were headed back into a positive relationship when he passed, and although his loss still hurt her heart, she was a strong woman, and could move on. She would move on. She could feel that things were different now.

  Carissa took another sip of her soda before she walked back through the hall and out into the humid night. She crossed the small yard to her late model Dodge Durango to double-check that she’d removed everything of importance. She was only mildly annoyed with herself when she saw the clip with her car keys in the passenger seat.

  With a sigh for her own forgetfulness, Carissa reached over and picked the keys up before flipping the automatic locks and shutting the door to the SUV. Instead of walking back inside, she leaned against the side of the vehicle and stared up at the twinkling stars. Her mind drifted as she watched the wispy clouds float over and around the tiny spears of light, enjoying the sensation of the balmy wind as it blew through her hair.

  It was good to be home, but something nagged at the fringes of her senses. Carissa shuddered as she turned to study the house across the street. Everything about it, from the bricks to the shadowed wooden door and black window screens, was dark. Although she saw no movement, something told her the home wasn’t empty. A chill that had nothing to do with the night air skittered up her back. She felt like someone was watching her. Her sense of anxiety growing, she narrowed her eyes at the living room window. Maybe it was her imagination, but she could have sworn the curtains twitched.

  Carissa stood up straighter, craning her neck in the direction of her neighbor’s house. She took a step forward before she caught herself, and the forlorn howl of a dog shattering the silence, making her jump. She shook her head and laughed at her ridiculous paranoia. It was well past ten o’clock in a tiny bayou town. Almost everyone on her street was in bed or nearly there. No one had time, or the interest, to spy on their law-abiding neighbors. It wasn’t kosher. Still, she couldn’t resist scanning the area as she walked back inside.

  She shut the door and
turned the lock, thinking it was past time for dinner. However, as Carissa stepped into the doorway of the pretty blue and white kitchen, she realized she didn’t have an appetite after all. She was happy to be home, but try as she might to think positive, the memories were bittersweet. Heart aching, she turned off the light and retreated to her bedroom. Once there, she flipped the light switch and studied her surroundings. It was a beautiful room, though not at all the one she remembered.

  The thick carpet was dusky rose, with the drapes a shade lighter, and the walls a shade darker. The comforter on the ornamental cherry four-poster bed and the upholstery on the two chairs by her bookshelf were a mixture of all three colors. An antique wardrobe, also cherry, stood against the far wall, with the bed itself positioned to the right and centered between two windows. It was beautiful, but it wasn’t the same as it had been when Ryan was alive. The original furniture was stored in the shed behind the house, along with everything from the spare bedroom her husband once used as an office.

  Weary thoughts clouded, and unwelcome tears threatened as Carissa changed into pajamas and cut the light. Crawling into bed, she pulled the covers up to her chin. It had been a year, and she was content with life, but she’d still lost her husband, and for this one moment, back in the home they once shared, she let the tears fall. She grieved for the life they would never have, emptying herself of everything but the promise of the future. By the time her exhausted body fell into sleep, she was no longer sad, but strong in the faith of her decisions, and she would move forward with her life, no matter what might stand in her way.

  Chapter Three

  When her alarm went off at six a.m., Carissa was nowhere near ready to get out of bed. Groaning, she slapped at the snooze button, but only succeeded in knocking the annoying appliance to the floor. She dragged her weary body from the bed, stomping on the offending noisemaker as she went. It quieted with a forlorn squeak similar to that of a broken accordion. Maybe she’d been too hasty telling her nana she’d be ready for work so soon.

  Grumbling under her breath, Carissa stumbled her way to her shower, choosing to step beneath the spray before it warmed up. The shock did the trick, and she awoke the rest of the way with a jolt. When her shower was over, she walked into her kitchen, still wrapped in a towel. She’d forgotten to prep the coffee pot the night before, so she set it up to percolate while she got ready for work.

  Fifteen minutes later, dressed in black slacks and a light pink ruffled top, she walked back into the kitchen and poured herself a cup of coffee. She doctored it with her usual mountain of sugar and creamer, figuring the first saccharine sip was enough to get her through the next five hours.

  A short time later, after a quick stop at the local Burger King, she arrived at Baby Steps, the consignment store her grandmother owned. It was Carissa’s day to open, so she juggled her purse, breakfast, and keys to the back door of the building. Once she gained access, she entered the code into the alarm, reset it, and relocked the door.

  Making her way to the office, Carissa then went to the panel controlling the lights across the entire building and turned them all on before heading to the desk and unloading her arms. She placed her breakfast and purse on the sleek surface and ate while she booted up the computers.

  Carissa opened the main doors at seven thirty on the dot and welcomed her first out-of-town customer at seven forty-five. The town of Jaune, Louisiana was a considerable way from the nearest big city, but people came from all over for the unique items sold at Baby Steps.

  They carried gently used baby and children’s items, as well as homemade children’s furniture. The products they sold weren’t available anywhere else. When her grandmother, Eleanor Burnham-Mouton, opened the little store in 1964, it was nothing more than a tiny room that barely fit the contents of a normal person’s closet.

  Eleanor began by selling her own homemade baby clothes, and when that was lucrative, expanded to buying and selling other families’ gently used items. The little hole-in-the-wall that everyone thought would fail within the first year was a bustling business ten years later. In fact, toward the end of 1974, redesigning and expanding the building enabled Eleanor to begin buying and selling larger used items, as well as local artisans’ furniture.

  Now, fifty years, almost to the day, since the grand opening, Eleanor was slowly passing the reins to her granddaughter, something that pleased both women greatly. Carissa loved the store, her customers, and the sense of security she had from practically owning her own business. She started working there just after she turned sixteen, and when her love of the store became obvious to her grandmother, Eleanor began to groom her for the task of ownership, paying for her courses at LSU when she graduated high school.

  Carissa’s mother had no interest in running the business, but she was more than happy to be one of their consignors, and that worked nicely for all parties. Her mother made baby clothes, blankets, and children’s Halloween costumes—the quality far superior to the mass-marketed items found in department stores.

  She created paintings for nurseries, murals – like the one of the family standing on the banks of a swamp, which she painted on the side of Baby Steps when she was still in high school – and anything else, including houses. Teresa Mouton was an extremely talented woman, and she was one of the main reasons people came from far away to buy from their family’s store.

  She was also the reason Carissa wanted so badly to pursue ownership of Baby Steps. If she didn’t, they would have to sell when Eleanor passed away. Carissa’s older sister lived God-knew-where with her husband and rarely bothered to keep in contact, much less inquire about the state of the family business. Then again, Gwyneth wasn’t much for anything that involved actually working.

  From the time she was old enough to have a job, Gwen had always strived to do the bare minimum. Instead of helping at the store, she chose to work at the local McDonald’s for a teensy paycheck and an even smaller number of hours. She said it left her more time to hang out with her friends in the evening, which was apparent by the fact that she was hardly ever home, despite their mother’s best efforts.

  The summer after Gwen graduated high school, she met Rafe Palmer. They were married before her nineteenth birthday and they moved out of town before her twentieth. They didn’t hear from Gwen often, and when they did, the older Mouton sister seemed interested in telling everyone what she was doing, and nothing else. Division governed their family, and the fate of the business had always rested on Carissa’s shoulders. That responsibility was a weight she treasured, and as yet another busy day came to a close, she couldn’t imagine any place she would rather be.

  After dropping off the day’s deposit, Carissa headed home, tired from the day’s split shift, but satisfied. It was shortly after ten-thirty when she pulled into her driveway. The sun had gone down, relieving the heat of the day. Carissa grabbed her purse and stepped out of her vehicle. After locking the doors, she stood outside and watched the tiny sliver of a moon flit in and out behind the clouds. She stayed in that position until the clouds shifted and the stars blinked to life.

  She’d always loved the night—the fragrance of the air, the absence of light, the complete tranquility—until the night she received the call from the Bossier Parish Police Department.

  Carissa shook her head. She wasn’t going to think of it. She was moving on, taking her life back, and one of those things was enjoying the peacefulness that came with the dark. Unfortunately, as with the night before, something in the air caused the hairs on the back of her neck to stand at attention. She turned her gaze to the house across the street. Curtains covered the living room window, but she could see the faint glow of a light behind it. Unlike the previous night, the dwelling didn’t seem creepy, but she still sensed something that wasn’t quite right. Shrugging, she headed inside.

  After depositing her purse and keys on the table in the entryway, Carissa went into her kitchen to fix dinner. Although she wasn’t in the mood for much – her appetite
still hadn’t returned – she threw together a quick salad and some pasta. It wouldn’t do her any good to neglect her health. She’d find her groove eventually. Staring out at the night as she ate, her interest piqued when the front door of her neighbor’s house eased open. A motion sensor light flared to life on the porch, giving her a view that couldn’t be beat.

  A tight muscle shirt was molded over—Carissa squinted through the glass—at least an eight-pack of abs, tapering down to dark wash jeans slung low on narrow hips. Barefoot, he paced about the wooden surface, coming to rest directly beneath the light. Tall and muscular, with broad shoulders that spread out beneath dark blond hair, the man was, “Magnificent,” she whispered.

  Carissa snorted. Magnificent? Staying celibate for a year had obviously addled her brain. Just because he was the first good-looking guy she’d seen in forever didn’t mean he was that handsome. Besides, she couldn’t even see his face. Taking another bite of her salad, she watched the mystery man pace back and forth for a few minutes, his jeans flexing against his muscular thighs, before coming to a halt at the top of the porch stairs. Then, almost in slow motion, he raised his head and stared directly at her.

  Carissa scrambled up from the table and rushed over to switch off her kitchen light, panting. She pressed an unsteady hand to her chest over her heart. How in the world had he known she was looking? She took a deep breath before peeking back through the kitchen window. The light was still on inside the house across the street, but the gorgeous man was nowhere to be seen. Curiosity blooming, Carissa grabbed her purse to retrieve her phone. She wanted to know who the man was, and her nana knew everyone. However, the little electronic device was nowhere to be found.