Hacienda Moon (The Path Seekers) (11 page)

Tears flowed down her cheek, blurring her eyesight. She had just taken one step toward heading deeper into the forest when a tightening sensation filled her head. White light blinded her, and screams filled the air. In the vision, it wasn’t light outside. Instead, the last bit of daylight trickled away by the second. A few feet away from where she stood, a child’s red sneaker lay on the ground. It was Chelsea’s. Something bad had happened to her. And then her vision ended, but the headache she was left with blurred her vision.

Something large shuffled through the brush, and it headed straight toward Tandie, still unable to see. She felt her way to a large bush and dived inside it, promising herself that if she got out of this situation then she’d never disobey her mother again when she told her to stay out of the woods.

After a few moments passed, Chelsea and another girl ran past Tandie’s hiding spot. Whatever was going to happen to her hadn’t come to pass just yet. With terrified faces glancing back, the girls screamed as what looked like the shadow monster chased them.

Tandie gasped in horror, her heart sinking. The shadow caught the first girl and tossed her to the ground as if she were a rag doll. The girl’s flailing body whirled toward the rotten bridge across the way.

“And now, for my special pretty girl.” The shadow’s raspy voice filled Tandie’s ears with dread. Chelsea turned and ran, losing a sneaker
, the one Tandie saw in her vision.
The girl didn’t get far before she tripped and then stopped trying to escape. She moved her body into a fetal position as the shadow swooped over her, blinding Tandie’s view of what followed.

And then there was silence. She sat alone in the quiet forest: no animals, footsteps, or Chelsea.

Tandie ran toward a large oak with a hollow opening, crawled inside, and pulled her legs up to her chin, cradling them the way Chelsea did. It was all her fault and guilt wrenched at her throat.
Soon, she cried herself to sleep. Only
moments passed, it seemed, before shouting voices woke her up. The deputy and her father’s dark eyes peered in at her as she lay inside the tree’s trunk.

Back safe in her bed that night, she learned that another boy had been beaten and tortured along with Chelsea’s sister, Carina, and the other girl. Only two other kids besides Tandie got out unharmed. No one ever found Chelsea’s body. News reporters bombarded Tandie’s house on a regular basis, and she had nightmares for weeks to follow; especially when she woke up and found her bedroom door closed. A part of her subconscious still felt like the shadow monster waited in the corners. And if he were there then she wanted to make sure she had an easy way to escape.

Willing her thoughts back to the present, Tandie turned the knob, pushed the creaking door open, flipped on the light, and gasped, her heart lodged in her throat.

Thirteen notebook-sized pages lay side by side across Tandie’s bed.

“What the hell is going on around this place?” Tandie whispered as she glanced around the room, half expecting to see the shadow demon hovering in a corner. She took baby steps toward the bed, picked up a page, and glanced over it.

“It can’t be.” Tandie read the words, still not prepared to discover they were part of the missing section. She turned the paper over and confirmed her suspicions. Trying to calm her thudding heart, she briefly glanced at each of the other pages.

“Thirteen of my missing twenty pages. This is all a bit much.”

She glanced around the room, walked to the windows, and pushed upward on the top wooden panes, making sure it was locked. No movement.

“You probably put the pages there yourself, silly woman,” she told herself without feeling convinced.

Her gaze rested on the card lying on the dresser. She l it up and read the handwritten name on back. Eric Fontalvo. Why did his name seem so familiar? That question had nagged at her ever since he left. Grabbing hold of the middle page, she returned to her bed, sat down, and read it aloud.

 
‘Darkness in human form remains an oddity unseen by any woman who gets hit by cupid’s blinding arrow. I knew from the moment I met him, we’d be locked together within his blackest secret. I love you, Eric Fontaine.’

The paper fell from her hands, and she swallowed hard. “Eric Fontalvo…Eric Fontaine. They’re almost identical.” And so was the physical description of her male villain, the serial killer in disguise…a man she’d dreamed about off and on since she was a teenager.

Maybe her inner psychic had returned. She hoped so. But deep in her gut, a sickening sensation made her think of the day when she learned one of the missing girls had been found by a group of teenagers many years later. Her body parts were scattered in pieces and spread throughout the forest. A life ripped apart by a serial killer whom the authorities were never able to find.

Part 2

Virtue and taste are nearly the same, for virtue is little more than active taste, and the most delicate affections of each combine in real love…Ann Radcliffe,

    The Mysteries of Udolpho, 1764

10

“Don’t look at me that way, Eric. I’m not crazy. I saw her standing on the beach. She kept staring across the ocean,” Shania said, her face swollen, her eyes filled with tears. “I thought something was wrong with her. So I told Virgil to go check on her. About fifteen minutes later, he sent me a text message saying that he was headed to the store. I told him to be careful because a storm was headed our way.”

“If she was turned toward the beach, then how did you see her face?” Eric asked softly. He didn’t want to further upset the woman, but he craved an explanation for what Virgil’s wife and Abby had said they saw.

“She glanced up at me and smiled. I looked right at her face, Eric. That long white dress she was wearing made her look a little paler than what I remember; but it was her. She has one of those kinds of faces you don’t forget.” She stared at t
he shaking glass in her hand. A
strong alcohol odor drifted into Eric’s nostrils. Around them, the Aeneid’s early morning patrons filed through the doors. “I’m not crazy, but I might be after all this.” She made a weak laugh.

“Why are you back at work already? Virgil would roll over if he knew you were sitting here in this place. And before his funeral at that,” Eric said covering her hands with his.

“I’ve gotta do something. If I just sit there in that house by myself, then…” She stopped and sighed. “You might find me washed up on a shore somewhere. My father was a working man. He put food on the table for us until he died. My mother called him an old fool. She said he worked himself to death. She’s probably right. Like father, like daughter.”

“I understand how that works, better than most, I think,” Eric said, thinking about how his father sacrificed time away from his family in order to keep the renovation contracts rolling in and the business running profitably.

Deep down Eric didn’t feel that the person Shania and Abby said they saw was Tandie Harrison. A lot of things just didn’t make sense. Why would Virgil send a text saying he was on the way to the store and then turn up dead on the beach across from his bar over two hours later? If he didn’t know better, it might seem as if one of them were setting Tandie up. But the woman spotted on the beach couldn’t be ruled out. It was always possible that it could be Tandie.

Pastor Jeffries’s words about the restless souls wandering the Bolivian streets came to mind. Could it be possible one of them drifted through Castle Hayne? He shook the thought off; making a mental note to buy a gallon of whatever Shania was drinking before he left the club.

“Virgil made me promise that if anything ever happened to him, then I would look after you.” She reached out and moved hair out of his face. “He kept my family from starving, that man did. The least I can do to repay him is to take care of his best friend.”

“Don’t worry about me. Just look after yourself, and Abby,” Eric said.

She made a face and scoffed. “That girl is more than capable of looking out for herself.” Talking about Abby changed her entire demeanor, making her act more guarded and colder than before. “Can you believe she has already told me that I have no right to Virgil’s part of the club? I care about this place because he did. Not because his sister is making claims before we even put her brother to rest. I don’t trust her, Eric. She has been meeting with this secret group at night. She says they’re going to help her find Virgil’s killer.”

“What group is this? Nobody knows who killed Virgil,” Eric said, his brow furrowed. He wasn’t surprised to hear Shania’s news. “Tell me more about this group.”

Shania shrugged. “She claims they all hang out at the beach. Virgil knew about it. He didn’t tell you?”

“No. He’s never mentioned it,” Eric said, feeling a slight twinge of jealousy because his friend hadn’t shared yet another secret.

“Well, see, there’s a family there that used to babysit the two of them. But then something happened. Something awful. It’s the one thing I could never get him to open up about. And now...Guess I won’t ever find out, will I?” She gave him a shaky smile.

“Go home, Shania. You don’t need to be here,” Eric pleaded.

“Virgil wouldn’t want me to let his life’s work go down the drain. He’d want me to stay right here, making sure those girls and Gus don’t go hanging out in the back, drinking up his beer.” They shared a shaky laugh.

Eric leaned forward. “He’d also want me to tell you that the Aeneid will be waiting for you tomorrow.”

Shania blinked away a few more tears, and Eric fought hard to keep a strong face for her. His own emotional chaos was swirling like razors in his gut. “You know, I can see why you didn’t stay with Abby. Ya’ll are like oil and water.”

“I don’t stay with anyone. It’s not just Abby,” he said. It was easy to open up to Shania. There were no pretenses or insecurities to deal with in her the way he had to put up with in his ex-fiancée. He could see why Virgil married the woman.

Taking his hands in hers, she leaned in close and said, “There’s a wonderful woman waiting out there for you. No friend of Virgil’s could ever be someone that’s destined to be alone forever. I’m sorry. The poet in me is acting up again.” She leaned back and swallowed her drink in one gulp.

“It’s all right. That was a poem I needed to hear,” Eric said and made a note to ask Abby about her mysterious trips to the beach.

* * *

The next day brought more rain. Eric’s mother always said that rain at a funeral was a good thing. It meant that the soul being laid to rest had floated away to heaven. The attendees at Virgil’s funeral stood under umbrellas as the grave keepers lowered his friend’s casket into the earth.

Shania leaned on Gus the entire time, her right arm shaking so badly that Eric almost walked over to steady her himself. Pastor Jeffries gave a fine eulogy the way he always did for all people in the coastal cities. The musical undertones in his voice, the raw passion in the way he delivered Virgil’s final portrayal brought tears to Eric’s eyes.

Abby stood beside him the entire time, her face frozen in an empty stare. Their mother, Mrs. McKinnon, shouted at the grave keepers who lowered her son’s body into the ground. Several agonizing wails later, she collapsed into her husband’s arms. Several family members rushed over to lift the grief-stricken woman and carefully ushered her back to the limousine waiting at the head of the line. She was like a mother to Eric too, and each wail pushed harder against his chest. It was as if his limbs would explode from the heaviness he now carried.

Pain always eased in to his life at some point. It made him commitment-phobic, and ruined his engagement. It also took his father and made his mother go insane. Now it had taken his best friend. He stared at the grave keepers tossing dirt on top the coffin, wanting the pain to end, vowing to drink enough Wild Turkeys to make him sleep until the next year.

“Staring at it won’t bring him back,” Abby said in a flat voice. She remained remarkably calm throughout the ceremony. There wasn’t a tear anywhere on her face. He recalled his conversation with Shania and how she said Abby wanted to cut out her joint ownership of the club. How much did he truly know about the woman standing beside him?

“What do you suggest I do, Abby? Stand there like you and pretend nothing is happening?”

She smiled, but her shoulders trembled. “My dear, sweet cheeks, Eric, you’ve always been so hateful to me. I can see that now. My friends will take care of everything. Just you wait and see.”

“Do I even want to know what you mean by that?” Eric asked, feeling a bit odd standing so close to the woman he once thought was a sex goddess. Something about her had changed. Even the tone in her voice, the way she carefully pronounced each syllable seemed strange. Sure, they all grieved for Virgil, but Abby’s eyes swam with something that reminded him of a wild animal.

“You don’t wanna know what I’m thinking. You can’t handle it. Besides, I hear you’ll be working with the witch, fixing her house up and all that.” She sounded more like herself; but the crazy look was still in her eyes. Moving closer to Eric, she ran her hands over his arms, massaging them.

“That’s right. I should tell you, though. I’m not sure who you and Shania saw on the beach that night. Tandie was at home,” Eric said.

“Tandie? She’s a first-name bitch for you now, huh?” She snorted and moved her hands away from him. “Well, she’s evil. This is all her fault. It’s always her fault.” She lowered her eyes as if she wanted to keep herself from saying more.

“Why do you act this way? All petty and hard when you know you’re upset,” Eric said, annoyed with Abby and disgusted with the small part in him that wanted to hear why she was calling Tandie a witch. He hoped that by spending time with her over the next couple of months he would learn more about Chelby Rose. Somewhere hidden in that house was long lost answers to bizarre events that had plagued his ancestors throughout the centuries.

“Tell me. Why do you always go after the wrong woman? First the airhead model, and now the witch. I hear you got tough competition, though. Kinky Saul Chelby’s hot on her trail too. That’s the problem with men. You think with your dicks and not your chipmunk-sized brains.” Her voice faltered for the first time since they arrived at the funeral. She stumbled a bit and her lip trembled. “You’re just like my brother. No wonder the two of you got along so good. Go on and run away to your little witch living in her ghost house. All of ya’ll deserve each other.” She turned and headed toward her car, not even bothering to lift her umbrella.

Upsetting Virgil’s sister during a time like this wouldn’t have made his best friend happy. He owed it to Virgil to remain civil with Abby, even if she was losing her mind. If some weird group planned to take advantage of her, then he intended to stop them.

“Abby. Wait!” Eric ran over to her car, touching her arm. She turned to face him, the stony look back on her face. “I don’t want to fight. We need each other, now. I’m upset too. I just don’t understand how you can act this way, so calm about everything.”

“It’s easy enough,” she said, shrugging.

“I’m asking as a friend, but have you gone mad?” Eric asked in a gentle voice.

“No. When I think about it, I’m actually kind of…glad.” That being said, she smiled, got in a separate car from the rest of her family, and drove off. Eric watched the car disappear over the hill, wondering which night he fell asleep and wound up drifting through a nightmare.