Mystere

by Carolina Mac

  MYSTERE

  The Blackmore Agency: Book Twelve

  Carolina Mac

  Copyright © 2018 by Carolina Mac

  MYSTERE - 1st ed.

  ISBN 978-1-988850-60-3

  All rights reserved

  The moral right of the author has been asserted.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the author, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent buyer.

  The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the author is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials.

  Your support of the author's rights is appreciated.

  Book Layout © 2017 BookDesignTemplates.com

  To: Mom who was a believer.

  We make up horrors to help us cope with the real ones.

  ―Stephen King

  CHAPTER ONE

  March 23rd.

  Saint Gillian Street. New Orleans.

  MYSTERE ABELLA LEJEUNE was the name on her birth certificate, and also on the deed of the house she couldn’t enter.

  She’d stood in this exact spot in front of her house so many times peering through the black iron fence she’d lost count. The grass had grown tall and died off, leaving ugly brittle stubble. Weeds thrived in every flower bed and almost reached as high as the window sills. The painted trim around the doors and windows peeled from sheer neglect, and it hadn’t been that long. Not even ten years.

  It seemed like a lifetime ago when she’d lived here with her family. Her beautiful mother, tall and graceful, long dark hair, brushed and shimmering. Always smiling. Her father, happy and successful running his own business. He always had time for his family and loved to lavish them with gifts and surprise trips.

  What had happened to make Daddy so… so changed?

  Today would be different. Today she’d push the gate open, bravely walk up the cracked sidewalk, put her key in the door and cross the threshold into her own house. Today he wouldn’t be able to stop her.

  The Blackmore Agency. Austin.

  UNABLE to leave Austin in good conscience with Governor Campbell in the hospital, Blaine stalled Misty for a week, then it became impossible to delay her trip to New Orleans any longer. He’d come home from the hospital the night before and she was gone.

  Even though she told him she was used to the delays and the disappointments, and she’d wait until he was free, the work of the Blackmore Agency always came before what she wanted to do. For the most part, Misty was patient and understanding, but a person was only blessed with so much patience and Misty had run out.

  He’d join her as soon as humanly possible, and he’d texted her those exact words this morning. Misty, wandering around alone in New Orleans, was not something Blaine wanted to think about, whether she regarded The Big Easy as her home or not.

  Coulter-Ross Ranch. La Grange.

  ANNIE finished coaching Pablo at the shooting range and invited him in for a beer while they cleaned their guns. He was the newest addition to the Blackmore Agency and she liked him. Quiet and reserved, a former army ranger, Pablo had it all going for him. Dark and swarthy good looks with jet black hair and eyes, well-built body bulging with muscles. Polite and friendly disposition, yet somewhat introverted and controlled at the same time. There was a lot going on under that cool exterior. And sex appeal? Uh huh. Pablo had that all going on—cool and quiet on the outside—hot and steamy on the inside.

  “Your non-dominant hand is coming along well,” Annie said as she set the two cans of Lone Star on the table beside the rags and the can of Hoppes. Would you like a glass? I’m getting one for myself.”

  Pablo flashed a brilliant smile. “I’m good with the can, thanks.”

  “You’re off on a Monday?”

  “Lily made up a new schedule, so the boss has men at the agency working on the open cases, and men on call in case things get crazy. That way, we kind of rotate the hours a bit better when things are quiet.”

  “Nothing new since Ewing Thompson?”

  “No, and the boss didn’t want anything with so many in the hospital. Keeps him busy checking on the Governor.”

  “She depends on him far too much,” said Annie, “but that’s only my opinion. She has advisors, staff and a security team for what she sometimes asks Blaine to do.”

  Pablo nodded. “I’ve met her, but I don’t know her at all. Not yet.”

  Annie tore down her Beretta with lightning speed, cleaned it and put it back together.

  When they finished and Pablo was ready to leave, she walked him out to his truck. “This is a different truck.”

  “Thompson smashed mine up good when he rammed me into the bus shelter. It’s still in the body shop. This is a rental.”

  “The Agency is paying for it, right?”

  Pablo nodded. “Blaine insisted on it. My truck was wrecked on the job.”

  “He has insurance for things like that,” said Annie. “I’m glad you weren’t hurt.”

  Pablo’s eyes went to the bandage on Annie’s right arm. “You were hurt, and you had no backup. I know that’s why Lane was fired, although nothing else was said.”

  “I’m fine and Jesse didn’t need to fire him. The boss was being a little over-protective of his ex-wife.”

  “The boss was mad, that was easy to see.” Pablo grinned. “He landed a healthy right in Lane’s face.”

  Annie shook her head. “Jesse is a scrapper. Always has been. He’s been in more bar fights than I can count.”

  “Are you…?” Pablo shook his head. “No, I can’t ask you that.”

  “Ask me what? If I’m seeing anyone?”

  “It would be incorrect for me to ask you that and I don’t want to get on anybody’s black list.”

  Annie giggled. “You won’t be on my black list. You’d have to do a helluva lot more than ask a question. And the answer is ‘no’, Jesse and I are divorced and I’m not seeing anyone... but he is.”

  Pablo raised a dark eyebrow.

  “Jesse is seeing his doctor on a personal level.”

  “Uh huh. I didn’t know that.”

  “Why are you asking, sugar? Do you want to hang out?”

  He nodded. “I’m not much on dating, like picking up girls in bars or doing romantic stuff, but I enjoy my time here at the ranch with you. It means a lot to me.”

  Annie smiled. “Let’s hang out, then. You have my number in your phone. Text me when you have free time and drive down. Next time you come we’ll saddle up and I’ll show you my ranch.”

  Pablo grinned. “I’m so happy.”

  Annie waved goodbye as he drove through the gate. She went back into the kitchen and pulled another beer out of the Sub-Zero.

  He’s sweet. I’m glad one of us is happy.

  Medical Building. Downtown Austin.

  JESSE sat in the chair in front of Jan Wagner’s desk waiting for the latest word on his weak heart and his all-out effort to rebuild himself into the muscular cowboy he used to be.

  “What’s the good word, doc?” Doctor Wagner was an MD, but also a Doctor of Naturopathic Medicine. Jesse’s brother Brian who was also a doctor and a surgeon had objected to Jesse taking this new path to health. Brian
was confident he had all the answers and downplayed Jesse’s interest in natural medicine. Despite Brian’s objections, the regimen Doctor Wagner had Jesse following seemed to be working, and he hadn’t had any setbacks.

  Jan smiled and looked up from her notes. “A little progress, but not as much as I’d hoped for. We’ve got to go that extra mile, Jesse. I know it will be difficult and I know you’ve tried many times in the past, but I want you to quit smoking.”

  “Uh huh.” He stared at her pretty face and knew she wasn’t kidding. He’d tried so many times before and it had always turned out the same. Each time he’d cut down, but he couldn’t give up the habit.

  Jan pushed a book across the desk. “You said you tried the patch and the nicotine gum and a few other things, but a lot of my patients have had great success with this book.”

  “How can reading a book help you quit smoking?”

  “Read the book, Jesse. Please.”

  “Okay, for you, I’ll read the book.”

  “I need to see you next week.”

  “What about before next week? Do you want to have dinner with me?”

  “Umm… the way you’re running right now, it might be best if you spent more time relaxing at home. No emotional upsets of any kind would be what I’d prescribe.”

  “What about what I want?” Jesse rounded the desk, leaned down and kissed her.

  “Please don’t, Jesse. At this point in your recovery, it’s better if we spend time apart. It won’t be good for either one of us if something happens to you.”

  Jesse was steamed as he pushed himself too hard escaping from the building and rushing to his truck in the parking lot. Out of breath, he jumped into his Range Rover and gave the steering wheel a healthy thump with his fist. “Talk about no emotional upset. What the hell do you call that, doc? You won’t even kiss me, and we can’t go out for dinner. What the fuck?” He reached into his shirt pocket for his smokes.

  Oh, no. You’re not doing this to me.

  Saint Gillian Street. New Orleans.

  MISTY summoned up all the bravado she could muster, turned the key and walked fearlessly into the foyer. She wrinkled up her nose at the dusty, musty smell and vowed to do some cleaning and packing of things she wanted to keep. Her mother had taken any keepsakes she wanted when she moved to Lillydale. Everything that was left belonged to her and it was way past time she dealt with it.

  No sign of her father and she let out the breath she was holding. The front parlor was exactly as she remembered it. The dark red velvet drapes were dreary and dusty, and she pushed them back on the east facing window to let the sun shine in.

  She turned slowly, taking in the dated furnishings. A few old enough to be considered antiques, but most were just old pieces that no one would want. She’d have a second hand store come and pick up most of it. Maybe not her father’s desk. She might keep it. When she was younger she always loved all the little pigeon holes where he kept the bills. As she stared at the desk, she noticed his wand.

  Has that always been sitting there? I don’t think so.

  Misty picked up the wand and smiled as she waved it in an easy arc in front of her.

  “Don’t touch that, Mystere. Put it down.”

  Misty sucked in a breath so quickly she made a little mewling sound. “Daddy?”

  A shimmer of light appeared in the corner and she dropped the wand onto the desk.

  “Thanks for letting me come in, Daddy. You never have before.”

  “I was protecting you.”

  “From what?” Feeling weak and a little shaky, she sank into one of the dusty overstuffed chairs.

  “You mean from who? Matthias Rush, that’s who. He killed me for my book of shadows and he’ll kill you too.”

  “He won’t know I’m here, Daddy. I’m only staying a few days.”

  “He’ll know, girl. He comes all the time and searches for the book.”

  “Why don’t you stop him?”

  “He’s powerful, Mystere. I could stop him if I was alive, but now that I’m dead, I can’t do it. Only you can do it.”

  “I haven’t practiced for a long while, Daddy.”

  “You must. Promise me you’ll gain control of your ability.”

  “I promise.”

  The light began to fade, and Misty stood up. “Don’t go, Daddy. I miss you so much.” Tears rushed down her cheeks and into her mouth. She tasted the salt and wiped them away. “I love you, Daddy.”

  Downtown Austin.

  FARRELL left the Agency for another trek downtown. He’d been trying to establish a network below the radar he and Blacky could depend on for information when they couldn’t pry anything loose the regular way. He had about a half dozen snitches on his payroll and worked a couple of nights a week trying to gain the trust of a few more.

  Blacky didn’t like him working alone, but his foster brother was at Saint David’s with the Governor and Farrell didn’t feel like sitting on his ass waiting for him to show up to go with him.

  One thing that had come out of his frequent visits to the downtown area, he knew his way around the back streets a lot better. The streets were his daytime venue, but at night, alleyways and hidden laneways behind old brick buildings were the place to be. He’d also become a regular customer at dark, sleezy bars most citizens would fear to enter.

  “Hey, Farrell,” said the bartender. “You looking for anybody in particular?”

  “Nope, just putting in time.”

  “I saw Taffy earlier, but nobody else.”

  Farrell shrugged. “It’s okay. I’ll have a pitcher of Shiner’s, sit in that back booth and see who turns up.”

  The bartender, Mike was his name—a big guy who’d spent years in the service—grinned and said, “You got it. I like having you around.”

  Saint David’s Hospital. Austin.

  BLAINE SAT in the single guest chair in Governor Campbell’s private hospital room. He gazed down at her pale face, devoid of makeup, and realized she had a lot of freckles. Her red hair was loose and spread out all over her pillow and he wouldn’t bet on it, but he was pretty sure she’d lost a lot of weight in the two weeks she’d been in bed.

  “I’m going home tomorrow,” she said. “To my own house with my own housekeeper. I won’t be going back to the Governor’s Mansion for a couple more weeks.”

  “You don’t want to be there anyway. The media will dog you every fucking minute. Ringing the goddam bell. Do they care how bad you feel? No, they do not.”

  Catherine smiled. “It will be better at home. Will you come see me?”

  “Sure, although I have to go to New Orleans for a couple of days.”

  “Misty needs help with something?”

  “She’s owns one of those old mansions in a section of the city where they do the tours. It could use about half a million in repairs.”

  “Is it worth it?”

  Blaine shrugged. “Who knows. It was her childhood home and now she owns it.”

  “Is she working on it now?”

  “Could be. I haven’t heard from her today, and that’s unusual.”

  Southeast Austin.

  PABLO finished dinner, helped his mother clear the table, then watched a couple of games while his mother did a jigsaw puzzle on the coffee table. The TV was small, and the reception wasn’t great. Now that he was making decent money, he decided to get her a new flat screen first chance he had to shop for one.

  After a hot shower, he sat on his bed in his boxers and tried to think of a text he could send Annie without sounding dumb or too eager. He was anxious to know her better. He had never felt this way about a woman before and didn’t know how to handle it. He had no marker.

  He wrote two or three texts, erased them and didn’t send them, then he sucked it up and went for it.

  “Working tomorrow. How about dinner?”

  “Come here when you’re finished, and we’ll make a plan.”

  “Roger that.”

  He laid his head on his pillow
and smiled at the ceiling.

  Fairfax Inn. New Orleans.

  MISTY CHATTED with old Miss Thibodeau, the lady who owned the inn and had a glass of wine with her before she went up to her room.

  She could have slept in her own room in her own house on Saint Gillian, but after what Daddy told her about Matthias Rush breaking in and looking for the book, she thought better of it. He was somebody she did not want to see.

  Once she was showered and, in her nightie, she called Blaine. “Hey, Beb, are you in bed?”

  “Almost, I was worried when you took off alone.”

  “Oh, don’t be worried about me. I’m a big girl. You have enough to worry about in Texas.”

  “I feel bad after I promised and then couldn’t go right away. Sorry, Mist, I want to be there with you.”

  “It’s okay.”

  “It’s not okay and I’ll make it up to you. Are you working on the house?”

  “I took a long look today and decided what I’m junking and what I’m keeping. I’ll see what I get done tomorrow.”

  “You had no problems with… anyone?”

  “I know you don’t believe Daddy lives in the house,” she giggled, “but I had no problems today.”

  “Fantastic. I’m so happy you called. I love you. Please stay safe.”

  “I love you too. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  March 31st.

  Coulter-Ross Ranch. La Grange.

  ANNIE was up at six helping Rosalie make breakfast for the cowboys and feeling happier than she had in a long while.

  Is it Pablo? Is he cheering me up? Or am I finally getting over my Jesse depression?

  “You in deep thought about something, Mrs. C?” asked Rosalie. (Rosalie was hired years before when Annie was married to Russ Coulter and she still called Annie, ‘Mrs. C.’)

  “Do you like Pablo?”

  Rosalie grinned. “Course I do. He’s a sweet guy, polite and Hispanic to boot. Why wouldn’t I?”