Voodoo Summer (LeGarde Mysteries Book 11)

by Aaron Paul Lazar

  But those words were stuck in my throat, and I felt embarrassed to say such things aloud.

  “Son?” my father said. “It’s time for Willy to have her turn.”

  “Okay.” I squeezed Sig’s hand one more time. “I’ll be back.” I hoped he heard me and didn’t feel so alone in his dark prison. “I’ll be back real soon.”

  Chapter 35

  When Willy didn’t show up the next day as planned at one o’clock, I started to worry. By one-thirty, I asked my father if I could head over to The Seven Whistles to check on her.

  “I don’t think it’s a good idea, son. You’ll be alone on the walk through the woods. And that peeper is back.”

  I tried to think fast. “What if you walk me over there, Dad?”

  He frowned. “I suppose I could.”

  “You could leave me at Carmen’s cabin, and as soon as I find Willy, we’ll come right back by the dirt road. We won’t go near the woods.” I conveniently ignored the fact that deep woods flanked the lonely dirt road on either side.

  He hesitated, and my mother, who’d been listening from the kitchen, gave him a worried glance. “When is Elsbeth coming back from the hospital, Gus? I’d feel better if there were two of you.”

  “Not until tomorrow, Mum. The hospital gave them a room to stay in overnight. There’s a special doctor coming in early tomorrow morning to talk about Sig’s coma. All the way from Augusta.”

  “I don’t like you being alone out there, honey,” she said.

  “I’m thirteen now, guys. I’m not a baby anymore.”

  “André?” she said. “What do you think?”

  “If I walk him over there, he should be okay. It’s broad daylight, Gloria. And he’s right. He is growing up. He’s a teenager now.”

  I grinned. I felt victory in the winds. “Thanks, Dad.”

  With a resigned sigh and a nervous shrug from my mother, he rose and stretched. “All right son. Let’s go.”

  I made Shadow stay inside, much to his chagrin, and followed my father along the lake trail to what I now called Voodoo Cove. I noticed there was a steaming pile of black charcoal in the center of the fire pit and guessed they’d had another campfire and ceremony last night.

  What did they dance and chant about this time? Maybe it was a celebratory version, with high hopes that they’d see Bosco soon.

  When we reached Carmen’s cabin, we found it empty.

  “It’s okay, Dad. I’ll just look around the camp. Thanks for walking me over.”

  “All right. But be careful, son.” He squeezed my hand. “We don’t want anything to happen to you.”

  “I will. Don’t worry so much, Dad.”

  “I’ll try.” He smiled over his shoulder and started on the trail back to Wee Castle.

  I caught sight of Alma, Carmen’s friend from the next cabin over. A portly colored woman with short white hair, she repaired guests’ clothing; sewing on buttons or fixing ripped seams. It seemed amazing that she’d have so much work from the guests, but the basket overflowed with shirts and pants and dresses. She bent over it, squinting at her stitches with tiny granny glasses.

  “Hello, there, boy,” she said without looking up. “You looking for Carmen?”

  “Hi, Alma. I’m looking for Willy, actually.”

  “Oh, that sweet girl. She’s around somewhere. And Carmen’s gotten a ride up to the court house to pick up Bosco,” she said, shooting me a victorious smile. “It’s a banner day here at The Seven Whistles, my boy.”

  I grinned at her. “That’s fantastic!” With heart soaring, I thanked her and started up the hill to the lodge. I entered through the back door that we’d used before with Willy, and started checking around the building, asking the workers if they’d seen her. So far, everyone had seen Willy that morning, but they weren’t sure where she was at the moment.

  I found Yvonne—the girl whose virtue I’d basically saved—and made her stop for a minute to talk to me. She wore her hair down over her face, long bangs hiding her right cheek. I grabbed her arm after calling her three times and chasing her down the hallway.

  Finally, she stopped to face me.

  “Hey,” I said. “I’m looking for Willy.”

  Her expression hardened and she combed her hair down over her face. “I don’t know anything.”

  I stared at her. “What do you mean by that?”

  “She might be in trouble,” she said nervously.

  “What kind of trouble?”

  She glanced around to see if anyone was in earshot. “Pierre,” she said. “He’s after her again. He already got to me.” She raised her face to mine, exposing a reddened cheek.

  She’d been punched or slapped really hard, and it was recent.

  Tears formed in her eyes. “Don’t tell anyone.”

  “Where is she?” I yelled.

  A few workers stopped to stare at us.

  “Everything’s fine,” she lied, waving them away. “Maybe she’s in his room. Don’t tell him I told you.” She exploded in a sharp sob. With a final stricken glance at me, she raced down the hallway.

  I sprinted into the main lobby and up the stairs. “Willy!” I called, pounding at the first door, which I hoped was part of the LaFontaine family suite. “Willy!”

  The door opened and Mrs. LaFontaine answered. “Yes?”

  “Is Willy in there?” I panted.

  “No, dear. No one’s here but me.”

  “Where is Pierre’s room?” I asked.

  She scowled. “Why do you ask?”

  “I think Willy’s in trouble, Mrs. LaFontaine.” I gave her a blazing stare. I hoped she’d understand without me having to say more.

  She backed up, flustered. “Er. He moved down to the basement last week. Said he wanted his privacy. He’s got a room down there.”

  I blanched. Nobody could hear a girl screaming from the basement.

  “Thanks.” I turned and flew down the stairs as fast as I could. Shoving past workers, I burst out the back servants’ door and to the rear of the property where the cellar door was located. I shoved inside and scanned the dim area.

  The main section was crammed with shelving units and bulk foods. Boxes of canned and paper goods filled the shelves. Off to the side was a door.

  This has to be it.

  With heart pounding, I raced around the crowded room and hammered on the door. “Pierre!”

  No answer.

  I banged against it again. “Open up!”

  I heard a faint whimpering sound within and tried the knob. It opened suddenly and I fell inside.

  Chapter 36

  “Willy!” I squinted, trying to make out the darkened interior of the bedroom. “Are you in here?”

  A muffled moan came from the far corner. As my eyes adjusted to the light, I made out a lone figure on the bed. Hurrying to her side, I stumbled over a pair of shoes and several items of clothing strewn on the floor. I landed hard on my knees, then picked myself up and stumbled toward her.

  When I could make out the details, I was horrified to find her tied with strips of cloth to the headboard. She lay on her back with a gag in her mouth, fully clothed, which I prayed meant nothing awful had happened to her yet.

  She tried to yell through the gag and wiggled her legs and arms maniacally. A frightened gleam escaped her eyes, and when they widened to impossible dimensions, I finally turned to see what she was trying to warn me about.

  Pierre stood behind me wearing an evil smile and boxer shorts. He held a baseball bat in one hand. “Bad timing, kid.”

  I turned to face him, holding up both hands palm out. “If you let her go, I won’t say a word.” I didn’t mean it, but I figured I could try to bargain with him.

  “Right.” He spat the words, moving closer and brandishing the bat. “Sure you won’t, you little goody-two-shoes. You’re too damned nosy for your own good.”

  Willy struggled and groaned, trying to twist loose from her bonds.

  I backed up fast and ripped at her kno
ts, freeing her. While Pierre circled me, I yanked down the gag, keeping one eye on him. “You don’t want to do this. Your mother will be really upset with you. She already suspects something, Pierre. I just saw her upstairs. Do you really want to break her heart this way?”

  The thought stopped him long enough for Willy to scramble off the bed and stand behind me. She let out a shrill scream, clinging to my arm. “Help! Somebody! Please.”

  Pierre chuckled. “Nobody can hear you down here, stupid.”

  It was at that point I realized that he was just plain crazy. The expression in his eyes was amused. He was definitely getting a kick out of this. And the fact that he’d practically been naked made me shiver—it seemed like he was getting ready to do to my friend what I’d most feared.

  “You’re insane,” Willy screamed, totally out of control now. “How can you think you can keep me like a prisoner?” She swung around behind me when he raised the bat higher in the air. “I am not your toy!”

  Closing in now, he grinned. “Sure you are. You’re my little slave girl, and I intend to enjoy you all afternoon.”

  I tried to protect her by keeping her behind me, but she surprised me by darting out from under my arms and lunging toward him with a precisely placed kick to his groin.

  It connected, and he went down hard with a tortured grunt.

  We raced to the door. I yanked on it, but it wouldn’t budge. A huge silver padlock secured it to the wall. When had he done that? Probably after he unlocked the door and let me think I’d sneaked inside.

  “We need the key,” I yelled, racing back to the pants he’d thrown over the back of a chair. I searched one pocket and then the other and came up with nothing. “He hid it,” I said. “Start looking. Hurry.”

  He roared up from the floor when I passed him. One of his hands closed around my wrist and in spite of his obvious pain, he rolled over and pinned me to the ground, still shaking and white. Fierce determination filled his eyes. “You little bastard,” he shouted.

  I bucked and twisted and rolled side to side, but he was too heavy.

  His hands closed around my throat, and all I could see as the light dimmed was his distorted gargoyle face hovering over me as he tried to choke the life from me.

  The shadow of a swinging bat flew across my darkening vision.

  Pierre moved his head just before the impact, but the blow glanced off his temple and was enough to make him loosen his grip on my neck.

  I drew in a harsh breath.

  Willy slammed the bat again, this time connecting with the back of his head.

  Pierre’s head jerked. He went slack and I wiggled out from under him.

  “Is he dead?” she asked, panting hard.

  I rolled to my side, gagging. When I could finally draw a deep breath, I reached forward and felt for a pulse on his throat. “No,” I gasped. “He’s alive.”

  “We have to find the key before he wakes up,” she said.

  I staggered to my feet. “Get the lights.”

  She raced to the wall switch and flicked it on, revealing a cluttered, filthy room with at least a dozen pictures of naked women plastered to the walls. I recoiled, and then focused on getting out of there. “Where would he hide it?”

  I checked the night table drawer. Flashlight. Tums. Worn copies of The Grapes of Wrath and The Catcher in the Rye. No key.

  I flipped up the end of his mattress, revealing the snout of an old-fashioned revolver. I jumped back.

  Could it be real? Was it loaded? And how did Pierre intend to use it?

  Ignoring it for now, because I needed a key, not a gun, I kept looking. Besides, I wouldn’t know the first thing about firing a weapon and could just as easily shoot myself in the foot as shoot him.

  Willy ran her hand along the top of the doorsill. “Not here.”

  Pierre stirred and rolled to his stomach, mumbling words that made no sense.

  “Hurry,” I said, pulling open the dresser drawers and tossing them to the floor upside down.

  Willy shouted, pointing toward the other side of the room. “Check that box on the top of the television.”

  I reached for a wooden box with a tooled cover. Inside, I hit pay dirt. “Got it!” With trembling fingers, I unlocked the padlock and slid it out of its hasp. I jerked open the door, then grabbed Willy’s arm and pushed her through in front of me.

  Pierre was on his knees now, shooting an angry glare at us. “I’ll kill you two little creeps.”

  We reached the other side of the main room, skirting around the aisles as fast as we could. When we arrived at the outer door, it opened before I could turn the knob. A large figure darkened the frame.

  Mr. LaFontaine glowered at us, then shot Pierre a bemused look. “What have we got here, son?”

  Pierre limped toward us with a scowl, baseball bat in hand again. “They know, Dad.”

  “Mr. LaFontaine. Your son had this girl tied to the bed!” I cried, hoping against hope that he’d find some decency within himself. “And he just tried to strangle me. I think he would have killed me if Willy hadn’t interfered.” I turned my head, showing him my bruised and swollen neck.

  The man just stared at me, his bushy black eyebrows drawn down. “You’re the one who hit me with that broom, aren’t you, boy?”

  I backed up a few steps. “You were hurting Yvonne, sir.”

  He pushed forward, poking a finger at my chest. “And that was my business. She works for me. She does what I say. “

  Pierre walked to his side and elbowed him playfully. “But you got her good today, didn’t you, Dad?”

  LaFontaine frowned. “You have a big mouth, son. And now look at this mess. How are we going to contain this?”

  Pierre ignored the question. “Yeah, but I got her all ready for us, Dad. She was so scared. You would have liked that.” He chuckled. “Then this dumb kid came in all fired up, like he thought he was the Lone Ranger or some super hero. Thought he’d rescue her.” He barked a laugh. “Don’t you love it?”

  “I would have loved it if you’d been more discreet. Now we’ll have to take care of both of them. It’s not going to sit well, what with your sister still missing. They’ll come down harder on us, you moron.”

  Pierre paled. “You mean we don’t get to have fun with Willy? I’ve been looking forward to this all year.”

  “No time for that. This kid’s folks will come looking for him soon. We’ve gotta act fast.”

  “The freezer?” Pierre asked, as if that explained it all.

  Chapter 37

  Willy and I exchanged a horrified glance.

  The freezer?

  I grabbed her hand and we started to scramble away from Mr. LaFontaine and Pierre. I knew we couldn’t escape through the main door unless we distracted them from it, so I figured we’d better give them a good reason to chase us.

  Pierre lunged for Willy’s arm, missed, and swore. She dodged him, ducked, and followed me around the aisles.

  “There’s no place to go, kids,” LaFontaine said calmly. “You’re just rats in a trap here.”

  Pierre smiled from across a row of storage units. “Yeah. That’s right. We’ll catch you eventually. It’s all over.”

  “My parents know I’m here,” I shouted, still racing around the aisles to avoid either man with Willy at my side. “And so does Mrs. LaFontaine.”

  Pierre barked a laugh. “My mother never does anything about stuff like this. She’s a good Southern girl who’s learned to look the other way.”

  Rushing around another set of shelves, we faced both men through boxes of napkins and toilet paper. Mr. LaFontaine had the same sick gleam in his eye that I’d seen in Pierre’s earlier. Pierre began to sneak around the other side, which would push us toward his father’s waiting hands.

  “Let us go,” I said. “And we’ll keep quiet.”

  “Lies don’t sit well with me, boy.” Mr. LaFontaine smirked through the shelving unit. “You’re trapped. There’s no way you’re getting out of here. You
might as well give in.”

  I nudged Willy and braced both hands on the metal shelving unit, motioning for her to do the same. Push, I said silently.

  She caught on immediately, and in seconds the thing tipped up on its legs and crashed onto LaFontaine. The paper goods weren’t heavy enough to seriously hurt him, but I figured the metal shelves would slow him down.

  It worked. He went backwards in a tangle of limbs and curses.

  An alarming screech came from my left as Pierre appeared from nowhere, his face twisted in fury. “You little bastards!” He raised the bat and swung. The last thing I heard was Willy’s shrill scream as the world faded and disappeared.

  ***

  “Gus!” someone whispered urgently. “Gus, wake up.”

  The world came back into view slowly. And the first thing I noticed was the cold. Deep cold. Winter cold.

  Was I lying outside in the snow?

  I waited while the thoughts settled into place.

  No. It’s summer. Why is it so cold?

  It was Willy’s tearful pleas that finally jogged my brain back to reality. Slowly, I opened one eye. Above Willy’s worried face I saw a metal grate and ceiling from which several carcasses of beef were suspended. To the right, boxes of frozen vegetables lined shelves. Big cylindrical tubs of ice cream met my gaze along the floor. Chocolate. Vanilla. Butter pecan.

  My other eye fluttered open and I groaned. When I tried to sit up, my head throbbed and the room spun in circles.

  “Easy now,” she said. “That’s it.”

  “What happened?” I mumbled.

  “Merde! The LaFontaines happened,” she said, hitching a little sob. “Pierre knocked you out, and then they dragged us into this cooler.”

  The bright silver walls gleamed with frost. It wasn’t just a cooler, it was the deep freezer, and now my brain clicked back into gear.

  About twenty feet square, the room was similar to our icehouse freezer over at Loon Harbor, but it was twice as big and filled with much more food.

  I managed to sit up, and Willy offered me a bag of frozen peas. “At least we have this for your head, mon ami.”