by C. J. Parker
God, what have I done? She drew in a deep breath, tried to clear her mind enough to make some sense of all this. Her whole body ached from loss. Loss of what she thought was the truth, loss of a friend, loss of innocence. Or was it naiveté?
A knock sounded at the door. She wiped the tears from her face and crossed the room expecting to find Derek, but instead Officers Dillon and Wayne stood on the threshold, their expressions grim. The disappointment of not seeing Derek was overwhelming.
She offered the best smile she could conjure. “Would you like to come in? I’ll make some coffee.”
Wayne removed his hat and ran his fingers through his blond hair. “No, ma’am. Detective Bainbridge wants us to keep an eye on Mrs. Bouchard. He said to tell you as soon as he can get everything squared away with that business on the river, he’ll be here.” Wayne toyed with his hat and glanced toward Nyssa’s property.
Dillon spoke, but lowered his hazel eyes to Tabatha’s hand grasped tight in front of her. “Ma’am, we didn’t want to worry the detective with this, but we have no idea what this Bouchard woman looks like.”
Tabatha motioned them inside. “Come in and I can show her to you.” They followed her to the kitchen window. She pointed to the small white cottage. “She’s standing at the back corner of the house, looking in this direction. I would imagine she thinks you’re here to tell me about the doll. Should I go over there and confront her with what I know?”
“No, ma’am.” Dillon hiked his gun belt higher on his hips. “Detective Bainbridge said you’re to act normal toward her. If she knows you suspect anything she might bolt, or worse, she might..”
“Kill me?” Tabatha snuffled and reached into her pocket for a tissue.
Wayne patted Tabatha on the back. “Ms. Gray, please don’t cry on us, now. It won’t look good if the Detective or Lieutenant catches us blubbering all over each other.”
She tried to laugh. It didn’t work. “Didn’t Derek say we’re to use first names?”
“I’m Hal,” Wayne said and gestured with a nod toward Dillon. “And he’s Travis.”
“Yes, I remember. Are you sure you don’t want coffee? It wouldn’t be any trouble to make.”
“No, ma’am.” Travis smiled sheepishly. “Detective Bainbridge said for us to sit out front in the unit. When he gets here, if he says it’s okay, coffee sounds great.”
She gave them a watery smiled. By the book, these two. But even the book has loopholes. “Go to your unit, and I’ll bring it out to you. How’s that for a compromise?”
Travis looked to Hal. “What you think?”
Hal nodded. “Sounds good to me. I’ve not had lunch, and coffee would tide me over for a while. If you’re sure it’s no trouble, Tabatha.”
She squared her shoulders trying to appear brave. Anything to keep her thoughts off the doll and what it meant was a welcome diversion. “No trouble at all.”
The officers let themselves out as she pulled the carafe from the coffee maker to fill it with water. Tabatha glanced through the glass and saw Nyssa still watching the officers. She glanced down to check the water level in the carafe and noticed the broken window lock. She peered around the room, looking for anything out of place, or something that wasn’t there before. Had anything been tampered with? Tabatha wondered if she’d ever feel safe again.
Setting the carafe on the granite counter, she picked up the coffee canister from the cabinet then dumped the contents into the trash. Can’t use this. Need a new can. Unopened. Tabatha rushed around the pantry in search of an unopened can. She trotted back to the kitchen, attached the can to the opener, watching it run a full circle around the container. The magnetic lid catch drew the cover upward with a snap fraying the last of Tabatha’s already embattled nerves. She measured out the right amount of the grounds, dumped it into the waiting filter basket, and filled the back of the machine with water. The scent of fresh coffee filled the room with a welcoming aroma of mornings, waking up to face a new day. It smelled like comfort.
Tabatha returned to the pantry to check for something to make sandwiches with. There were two cans of chicken spread and a loaf of bread in the freezer. She popped four slices of the bread into the toaster.
The last of the coffee dripped into the carafe, the sound of each drop overly loud. The toaster made popping sounds as the coils heated up. Even the intake of her breath sounded exaggerated. She’d never minded being alone before, actually had preferred it. But now the cavernous and hollow house was too empty, too quiet. She needed voices. Wanted Bertha to come to her and tell her everything would be okay. That she was okay.
A loneliness like she’d never experienced in her life pressed against every cell of her body. Why isn’t Derek here? What’s taking him so long?
Tabatha leaned her head on the cool marble counter. Facing Phelps, seeing the doll in her clothing, realizing the hair was the children’s, having to face the fact that her best friend was a murderer, these things all came to an emotional overload and Tabatha wept. She cried for the lost years with her mother, for giving her love to the woman who had taken what she held most dear in life, her family.
Someone gently touched the middle of her back, the hand’s warmth and the scent of Chanel No. 5 swallowed her whole.
Her mother.
What could Tabatha say? How could she make up for what she’d done?
“Why are you crying? What’s wrong?”
Her mother’s soft voice held a hint of reluctance. Could Tabatha blame her?
“She killed Paw-Paw and Daddy.” I’m sorry, Momma. Why can’t I say the words out loud? “She told me you did.” I love you, Momma. “She said..”
“I know.”
Tabatha turned into her mother’s arms and held her tight. “Can you ever forgive me?”
“There’s nothing to forgive, Tabatha. Nyssa was able to help you when I couldn’t.” Her mother sighed gently and Tabatha knew the unspoken works over the years were not one sided. “I didn’t understand you. I didn’t understand any of you. All I wanted was to feel safe and to never do without again.”
“I’ll never let you go without, Momma. I promise.” Tabatha would make it up to her. She’d never want for anything.
“Your father gave that to me for a while. After he and Raoul were gone, I was terrified.” Her mother smoothed Tabatha’s hair away from her face. “I had no idea what to do with you. If you’d only been..”
Tabatha pulled away. There it was. Her mother still couldn’t accept her. “Normal?”
Her mother sighed. “So you see, we both need to forgive.”
Tabatha looked into her mother’s face and noted how fatigue had stolen her youth. Her gray eyes were bloodshot, and the sparkle of life had vanished. Deep lines framed her mouth, and her color was wrong.
Bertha’s words shouted inside her mind—she poisoned my dogs.
Tabatha’s mind raced with every symptom and possible cause.
“Mom, I want you to go see a doctor.”
Her mother turned away. “After this mess is over.”
Tabatha shook her head. “No! Mom, I don’t know how long this is going to drag on. I want you to go now.” She grabbed her mother by the arms and made the older woman look her in the eye. “If you won’t let me take you, what about Bertha? One way or the other, you’re going. You might as well call your doctor and tell him you’re coming in today.”
Her mother’s gaze moved away from her and took on a far away haze. “Oh, your dashing detective won’t let it continue much longer. He reminds me of your daddy, you know. Dunnock was my knight in shining armor.”
You’re my knight in shinning armor, Daddy. Tabatha had spoken those exact same words to him when she was a little girl.
“He rode into my heart in his white convertible and whisked me away from a drab world of poverty to this.” She gestured around the kitchen with a wave her hand. “I loved your father.”
Tabatha’s heart softened toward her mother. “So did I, Momma.”
Her mother glanced toward the counter behind Tabatha. “Your toast is burning, dear.”
Tabatha ran to the toaster and smacked the top. The bread popped up, blackened and smoking. “Hell.”
“It’s not acted right since you came home. Let me get mine. I’ll be right back.” Her mother left the kitchen and slowly walked upstairs. Tabatha glanced around the kitchen at all the other electrical appliances. Had Nyssa rigged them? Were they all ticking time bombs?
Tabatha grabbed the toaster and threw it out the back door with a rush of satisfaction. The toaster hit the ground with a crash of metal against hard soil. “That felt good, but not good enough.” She considered stomping on the foul thing, but her mother returned before she gave in to temptation.
She handed Tabatha an old two-slice toaster and smiled. “This one’s old and ugly, but still works.”
Tabatha stared at the proffered toaster. Its top, caked with breadcrumbs needed a thorough cleaning. She grabbed it by the end and walked over to the sink to wipe away the mess. “Thanks, Mom. I’ve got two hungry officers sitting outside. Want to help me make the sandwiches?”
Her mother glanced at the loaf of bread. “Where did you get that?”
“Freezer. Did you know it has a lock on it? The wrapper looked like it’s never been opened. I checked.” Bertha’s warning not to eat anything Nyssa brought into the house must mean keeping everything else locked out of her reach as well. This had to end. It was no way for them to live.
“Bertha bought the freezer a while back and wouldn’t be happy with anything without a lock.” Her mother touched the fastener to the bag of bread, and nodded as if satisfied. “I think she’s known all along what happened. How did you open it?”
“She put some keys on my ring. I kept trying them until I found the right one.” Tabatha smiled to herself. “That old woman has more power than I do, I think.”
Her mother laughed and Tabatha’s heartbeat quickened at the true sound of happiness it held.
“I love you, Momma.” There. It was finally said.
“I know, honey.” Tabatha’s heart squeezed painfully. Her mother hadn’t returned the needed words. Carla closed the distance separating them, embraced Tabatha and kissed her on the forehead. “When did you get so brave?”
Tabatha almost laughed. “Brave? Momma, I’m scared spitless.” Tabatha wrapped her arms around her mother’s shoulders. “I know you are, too, but I’ll do the best I can to make you feel safe again. I promise.”
Carla stepped out of Tabatha’s embrace, and a small, sad smile lifted her lips. “I called Dr. White while I was upstairs. He can see me at nine, tomorrow morning. Is that soon enough for you?”
Tabatha ran her gaze over her mother’s sunken cheeks, pale skin and dry, lifeless hair. She would rather it be now. Ten minutes from now, but she’d accept tomorrow morning. “Thank you.”
“Your Prince Charming just pulled into the drive.” Her mother’s words sent a rush of happiness through Tabatha’s system. She looked out the window, as he stepped out of his car. Derek was home. Everything would be all right now. It was like a load had been lifted from her shoulders.
“I’m going back to my room. Be careful, Tabby. That woman has taken everything dear to me.” Her mother kissed her on the forehead. “Nyssa’s got it into her head that the estate should be hers. And I fear she’ll not stop short of death to get it.”
“No one’s going to die, Momma.” Tabatha slathered the bread with mayonnaise and chicken spread. “And don’t worry about Nyssa. Derek’s going to see to it she never breathes the fresh air of freedom again. If he has his way, she won’t live to see her next birthday.”
Carla’s hand flew to her chest. “He’s going to kill her?”
“No. He’s going to prove she’s the Voodoo Killer. We believe she’s the one killing the children. Juries aren’t all that lenient with people who torture and kill kids.” Tabatha drew a deep breath, releasing it with a whoosh. “She’s trying to kill me, Momma. Those children were supposed to be me.”
“Nyssa’s been trying to kill me for years.” And yet she hadn’t told Tabatha. What did this say about her mother’s trust in her? “She’s not very good at it, it seems.” Her mother ran her fingertips over Tabatha’s cheek. “Maybe we should get to know each other, Tabby. We’re not the same people we were nineteen years ago.” Tabatha swallowed a lump of emotion. She was beginning to think her mother wasn’t the woman she was yesterday. What had changed her mind?
Derek appeared by the back door and reached for the knob. Carla crossed the room to let him in. “Come in, Detective. We’ve finished our talk. I was just going to deliver these sandwiches to the policemen out front.” After placing the sandwiches on paper plates, she poured two cups of coffee and arranged it all on a tray.
Derek’s face fluctuated from stunned to suspicious to wary. His eyes darted from Carla to Tabatha then back again. “I’m sure they’d appreciate that, ma’am.”
Carla glanced at Derek. “Do you know what you’re getting into? Are you sure you’re ready to take on all this and a crazy mother-in-law to boot?”
Tabatha’s face flamed with heat. “Momma!”
Derek’s eyes widened and he swallowed hard.
“Oh. Sorry.” Carla laughed into the stunned silence enveloping the room. “Jumping the gun.” She picked up the tray of sandwiches and coffee and walked past Derek out the door.
Derek stared after her, slack jawed. “What’s gotten into her?
Tabatha lifted her shoulders in a shrug. “She saw me cry and realized I’m human.”
Chapter Thirty
Tabatha legs shook from fatigue. She dropped into the nearest chair and leaned her head against the backrest and fought tears. “I’ll understand if you want to walk away from me. I’ll let you go if you want.”
Derek’s face showed no reaction to her statement. He lifted the coffee pot and filled two mugs. After setting one in front of Tabatha, he pulled out a chair and joined her at the table. He stared down at his coffee. “What brought that on?” His gaze rose finally meeting hers. She saw nothing with which to judge his thoughts or emotions.
Tabatha tore open a packet of sweetener and dumped it into her coffee, the clanging of her spoon against the cup raged against her already frayed nerves. “In Nyssa’s sick mind...” She forced back a sob. “This is all my fault, Derek. Those children are dead because of me.”
“Bullshit.” He grabbed Tabatha’s spoon out of her hand and pitched it onto the table, sending it across the wooden surface onto the floor with a clang. “The fault lies with one person. Nyssa Bouchard.”
She lifted her gaze to meet his, fearing the rejection she’d see there. “You’ve not said if you want to leave. Do you?” She held her breath and waited. Her whole body stiffened as if waiting for a blow.
He slowly shook his head. “You’d be better off if I said yes, but I can’t.” She released her breath with a loud whooshing sound. Her upper body nearly collapsed onto the table. “How would I be better off? I’ve been alone most of my life. How can it possibly be right to return to a life of solitude after finding someone who makes me feel whole? To be alone again would be unbearable.”
The door flew open and Bertha rushed in. Tabatha nearly jumped out of her skin. “Nyssa’s on the way over here with a soup pot in her hands. Don’t you kids eat nothing that woman brings in this house.”
Tabatha’s mood soured at the mention of Nyssa. Thoughts of kicking Nyssa’s ass up between her shoulder blades were foremost in Tabatha’s mind. “Wouldn’t think of it.” Tabatha toyed with her coffee cup. “We have to act normal toward her. Derek doesn’t want her to know we suspect her.”
“Hold up a second.” Derek held his hand up stop sign fashion. “What makes you think Nyssa’s trying to poison Tabatha? Would she be so careless? She’s got to know by now something is up. A squad car sitting outside the house right after the doll being found.” He shook his head. “She’d be crazy to try something.”
Tabatha took the old black woman’s hand in hers and squeezed. Her heart swelling with the love she had for Bertha. “I won’t let her hurt me or anyone I love.”
Derek pointed to the chair. “Sit down. She thinks I’m here to tell Tabatha about the doll, so let’s talk about it.”
Bertha remained standing, her arms crossed under her breasts. “Doll? What doll?”
Derek filled her in, starting with the phone call. “Forensics is going to check the sections of scalp sewn to the doll’s head to see if it matches the children’s. Other than that, there really wasn’t any evidence.”
“Good gracious. You saying that old bitch is the Voodoo Killer they been talking about in the paper?” She crossed herself. “Lord have mercy.”
Nyssa’s tapping on the backdoor window caught Tabatha’s attention. “Let her in, but keep quiet about what I just told you.”
Bertha pressed her lips into a thin angry line. She opened the door and stood in the doorway, blocking Nyssa from entering. “What do you want? What’s in that pot?”
“Nothing for you, old woman.” Nyssa looked her up and down with a frown. “I brought my girl some chicken soup. Thought it’d make her feel better.”
Tabatha forced a smile. “Feel better?”
“I saw the cops sitting out front and then your detective friend comes running in, I figured something happened.” Nyssa nodded stiffly to Derek.
Tabatha fisted her hands tightly at her sides to keep from whaling the daylights out of the traitor.