The Reckoning (23 page)

“Laundering from what?”

Holt shook his head. “Drugs, maybe. Rommel said Erika was to be sold to a Russian family. I don’t like to think about the money involved in the trafficking of little girls, but it’s possible some money came from that. You can bet they’re trying to find it. What about you? Did your assistance help the FBI when they searched Lorraine’s home?”

“I guess. I mean, given that I knew her personally, I was able to create a better profile of her mental decline than a stranger would have.”

She sighed. “We found more of the dolls in a storage bin in the basement. I can only assume she bought them years ago to implicate Mathilde and kept them. At least now we know where the dolls came from. Erika finally admitted that she’d seen the doll outside her bedroom one night and crawled out the window to get it.”

“A logical explanation.” He smiled. “How about that?”

“Yes, but still no logical explanation for the crows, or how Mathilde’s reading was right, and definitely no logical explanation for Grand attacking Rommel.”

“Are you kidding? Grand’s attack on Rommel is the only thing that
does
make sense.”

“Mathilde claims she’s never seen Grand on that side of the island. She claims the spirits summoned him there to intercede on our behalf. That’s why she threw the necklace when she did.”

Holt stared at Alex. “And you believe her?”

Alex shrugged. “Why not? And besides, what does it matter why it happened when the outcome is the same. Still, I won’t be so limiting with my point of view in the future. I still think there are more things unexplained in this world than explained, and a large share of them are in Mystere Parish.”

“Yeah, you know, this entire situation got me to thinking.”

“About what?”

“If you hadn’t believed that Sarah was telling the truth and that there was no way Bobby could have taken Erika, this investigation wouldn’t have happened. It was your assessment of their credibility that made me go along in the beginning, despite Jasper’s objection.”

“Maybe, but I think you would have gotten around to that way of thinking eventually.”

“But what if it was too late once I did? Have you ever wondered how many people have been in situations like this—where they know something bad has happened, but there’s no evidence for the police to go on to create a case? Meanwhile, the clock is ticking.”

Alex frowned. “I guess it happens more often than I’d care to think about.”

“Exactly, so I was thinking that I finally found a use for my inheritance. I want to open up a detective agency that specializes in cases where the police don’t have the evidence to determine a crime has been committed.”

“Oh! Holt, that’s a great idea.”

“And I want you to make that leave of absence permanent and be my partner.”

“Me? I’m not qualified to investigate. This entire mess with Erika darn near gave me heart failure.”

“I don’t know. A little more training with Ms. Maude and you’d probably be chomping at the bit, but that’s not what I had in mind. I was thinking you’d be perfect to assess the credibility of the clients and suspects. If you’re interested, that is.”

Alex stared at Holt, his idea rolling around in her mind, and the longer she thought about it, the more she liked it. After all, she’d gone into medicine to help people. This way, she’d be helping people who were out of options, but still using her medical training to do so.

“I think it sounds wonderful, and of course I want to do it.” She leaned over and kissed him.

“I already have our first two cases.”

“Really?”

“First, I’d like to try and find the girls who were kidnapped thirty-six years ago. Rommel said Erika was to be sold to a Russian family. If something similar happened to the other girls, we may be able to find them. It’s a paper-thin chance, but I have to try.”

Alex nodded. “And the second case?”

“My father’s murder. Right before Grand dragged Rommel into the bayou, his shirt sleeve came up all the way. He had the eye tattoo on his biceps. Whatever he was doing in Vodoun, Rommel wasn’t doing it alone.”

Alex placed her hand in Holt’s and squeezed. “Let’s get started.”

* * * * *

Be sure to pick up the next book in
Jana DeLeon’s
MYSTERE PARISH
series
when THE VANISHING goes on sale
next month. Look for it wherever
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* * *

Keep reading for an excerpt of
Mason
by Delores Fossen!

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Chapter One

The scream woke Deputy Mason Ryland.

His eyes flew open, and Mason stumbled from the sofa in his office where he’d fallen asleep. He reached for his shirt but couldn’t find it. He had better luck with the Smith & Wesson handgun that he’d left on his desk.

He threw open his office door and caught the scent of something he darn sure didn’t want to smell on the grounds of his family’s ranch.

Smoke
.

The wispy gray streaks coiled around him, quickly followed by a second scream and a loud cry for help.

Mason went in the direction of both the smoke and the voice, racing out into the chilly October night air. He wasn’t the only one who’d been alerted. A handful of his ranch hands were running toward the cabin-style guesthouse about a hundred yards away. It was on fire, the orangey flames licking their way up the sides and roof. And the place wasn’t empty.

His newly hired horse trainer, Abbie Baker, was staying there.

That got Mason running even harder. So did another shout for help. Oh, yeah, that shout was coming from the guesthouse all right.

“Call the fire department,” he yelled to one of the ranch hands.

Mason also shouted out for someone to call his brothers as well even though they would soon know anyway. All five of them, their wives and their children lived in the family home or on the grounds of the ranch.

Mason made it to the guesthouse ahead of the others, and he tried to pick through the smoke and the embers flicking through the night air. He hurried to the sound of his trainer’s pleas for help.

And he cursed when he saw her.

Abbie was in the doorway, her body half in and half out of the house, and what was left of the door was on her back, anchoring her in place.

The smoke was thick and black, and the area was already hot from the flames, but Mason fought his way through just as one of the ranch hands caught up with him. Rusty Burke. Together, they latched on to the door and started to drag it off Abbie. Not easily. It was heavy and bulky, and it didn’t help that the flames were snapping at them.

Mason didn’t usually think in terms of worst-case scenarios, but he had a split-second thought that his new trainer might burn to death. The possibility gave him a much-needed jolt of adrenaline, and Rusty and he threw the door off her. In the same motion, Mason latched on to her arm and dragged her away from the guesthouse.

“I couldn’t get out,” she said, her voice clogged with smoke and fear.

“You’re out now,” he let her know.

Out but not necessarily safe. The ranch hands were already there with the hoses, but he doubted the house would stand much longer. If it collapsed, Abbie could still be burned or hurt from the flying debris.

“Are the horses okay?” she asked. Mason was more than a little surprised that she’d think of the animals at a time like this.

“They’re fine.” At least he was pretty sure of that. “This is the only building on fire.”

Mason scooped her up, and she looked at him. It was pitch-dark, probably two or three in the morning, but thanks to the flames and the hunter’s moon, he saw her eyes widen. A single word left her mouth.

“No.”

Mason didn’t have time to question that
no
before she started struggling. She wasn’t a large woman, five-five at the most and on the lean side, but she managed to pack a punch when she rammed her elbow against his bare chest. He cursed and put her in a death grip so she couldn’t fight her way out of his arms.

“I’m trying to save you,” he reminded her, and he added more profanity when she didn’t stop fighting.

Abbie was probably still caught up in the fear and the adrenaline, but Mason was finding it a little hard to be sympathetic with the cold rocky ground biting into his bare feet and with her arms and legs waggling around.

“We have to get away from the fire,” he snarled.

Those wide frightened eyes looked at the flames, and she stopped struggling just long enough for Mason to get a better grip on her.

He started running toward the ranch office where lately he’d been spending most of his days and nights because of the heavy workload. He could deposit Abbie there and hurry back to see if the guesthouse could be saved. He wasn’t hopeful, especially because the ranch wasn’t exactly in city limits. It would take the fire department a good twenty minutes to reach them.

The door to his office and quarters was still open, and he hurried inside, flipped on the lights with his elbow and placed her on the sofa. Mason looked down at her, to make sure she wasn’t injured.

She didn’t appear to be.

Visibly shaken, yes. Trembling, too. Pale and breathing way too fast. All normal responses under the circumstances.

Her eyes met his again, and Mason saw the fear that was still there. And maybe something else that he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

“Did you try to kill me?” she asked.

That single question seemed to be all she could muster because she groaned, closed her eyes, and the back of her head dropped against the sofa.

Mason huffed. That definitely wasn’t something he expected to hear her say. He’d been a deputy for fifteen years, and his employee no doubt knew it. Even though most people were leery of him because…well, because he wasn’t a friendly sort, they didn’t usually accuse him of arson or attempted murder.

“Why would I set this fire?” he demanded.

Abbie opened her mouth, closed it and shook her head. She also dodged his gaze. “I’m not sure what I’m saying right now. I thought I was going to die.”

Mason guessed that was a normal response, but he was beginning to get a bad feeling about this. “How did the fire start?”

Abbie shook her head again. “I’m not sure. I woke up, and there was smoke all around me. I tried to get to the door, but I started coughing and couldn’t see.” She paused, shivered. “When I got to the door and opened it, it fell on me.” Another pause. “Or something.”

“Or something?”
he pushed.

Oh, man. The bad feeling was getting worse, and Mason blamed it on that stupid question. Was there a nonstupid reason that she thought someone had tried to kill her, or was this the ramblings of a woman whose mind had been clouded with fear and adrenaline?

“Or something,”
she repeated.

Abbie pushed her light brown hair from her face. Long hair, he noticed. Something he hadn’t realized because she always wore it tucked beneath a baseball cap. In fact, he’d thought of her as tomboyish, but there wasn’t anything boyish or tom about the person lying on his sofa. In that paper-thin pale blue gown, she looked like a woman.

An attractive one.

Something Mason wished like the devil he hadn’t noticed. She worked for him, and he didn’t tread down that path. Business and sex never sat well with him.

“Did you leave the stove on?” he pressed.

But all he got was another head shake—something else that didn’t please him. He wanted some answers here, and he wanted something to tamp down that bad feeling in his gut. However, the knock on his already-open door had him shifting in that direction.

It was his ranch hand Rusty. The lanky young man was out of breath and looked on the verge of blurting something out before his attention landed on Abbie. He motioned for Mason to meet him outside.

Mason looked at Abbie. “I’ll be right back.” Yeah, it sounded like a warning and it was. By God, he was going to get those answers and settle this uneasy feeling. He would find out why she’d thought he had tried to kill her.

He stepped outside with Rusty, and when he got a better look at Rusty’s face, he pulled the door shut. “More bad news?” But it wasn’t exactly a question. Mason could already tell there was.

Rusty nodded. “The guesthouse collapsed. Nothing left to save.”