The Whispering Room (18 page)

But by the time she arrived, the car was long gone. After checking in with Jessie, Evangeline spent several minutes driving around the neighborhood. She even stopped and asked a couple of neighbors if they'd noticed the car, but, of course, no one had.

She was still overreacting, Evangeline decided later as she sat out on the front porch with her gun. The house was locked up tight and the baby monitor beside her was so sensitive, she could hear J.D.'s soft breathing from his crib.

Still, she was uneasy. A strange car in the neigh
borhood was only one of a number of things preying on her mind tonight.

Sometime after she'd met with Nathan Mallet at the cemetery, he'd turned up dead. Shot three times. Once in the face and twice in the chest. Just like Johnny.

And on the day before her meeting with Lena Saunders, Evangeline had learned that Paul Courtland had suspected he was being followed by a strange blond woman a few days before he went missing.

According to Lena Saunders, Paul Courtland and his brother were related to Mary Alice Lemay, a woman who had killed all her male children because she feared they'd inherited their father's evil gene.

Also according to Lena, Mary Alice's youngest daughter, Rebecca, had not only helped in the execution of at least one of her brothers, but she might also be responsible for the slaying of Paul and David Courtland.

To call Lena's theory bizarre was an understatement, but Evangeline had done enough research that afternoon to know that the gist of what the writer had told her was true.

Whether Nathan Mallet's death was somehow connected to Paul Courtland's, she couldn't yet say. But one thing was certain. Something strange was going on. And for whatever reason, Evangeline seemed to be a part of it.

The night was hot and humid, but she found herself shivering as she got up and went inside. The house was secure and she had her weapon nearby. There was no real reason for her to be so on edge, Evangeline told herself as she got ready for bed.

Besides, she knew how to defend herself. Anyone trying to break in would find themselves on the wrong end of her .38. She was a crack shot, too, with a steady hand and a firm resolve. And she was fully prepared to do whatever was necessary to protect her home and her child.

Too wired to sleep, she stayed up for a long time watching an old movie, but exhaustion finally claimed her and she fell asleep to the flickering screen.

When she woke up sometime later, she thought the noise from the television had awakened her, even though the volume was turned low.

She clicked off the power, and it took her a moment to realize that the sound she'd heard wasn't coming from the TV.

It was coming from the baby monitor.

Evangeline shot upright in bed. The tinkle of music through the speaker was as clear as if the mobile were in the same room with her. In her mind's eye, she saw the tiny paper cranes circling over her baby, and a dark chill crept over her.

Reaching for her weapon, Evangeline quietly swung her legs over the bed and got up. Wincing at the squeak of the old hardwood floors, she padded
across the room and slipped out into the hallway. Gun gripped in both hands and pointed downward, she eased along the wall, eyes and ears alert for any movement or sound.

The door to the nursery was open, and the night-light revealed a peaceful scene. J.D. was asleep in his crib, undisturbed by the soft jingle of the music box as the mobile circled slowly, the cranes barely adrift.

Standing beside the crib, Evangeline felt the cool gush of air from the air-conditioner vent. She put up a hand to still the mobile. The music stopped. The room fell silent. There was no sound at all in the house except for J.D.'s breathing.

Evangeline waited, and a moment later, the draft from the vent stirred the cranes again, the movement activating the music box. A few bars of the tune played out before the room fell silent once more.

Mystery solved, Evangeline thought with a breath of relief. She felt a bit foolish clutching the gun, but she didn't return it to her nightstand until she'd made a complete round through her house.

Satisfied that nothing was amiss, she settled back down to sleep. But every little noise, every movement of shadow and light, brought a new shiver, and she couldn't seem to shake the notion that out there in the dark, someone was watching.

Evil had slithered into her life and now lay coiled and waiting.

E
llis Cooper squatted on the slick, mossy bank and watched moonlight glisten off the bayou. He loved coming out here at night. The swamp was the playground of the nighttime predator.

Like him, he thought as he kept his eyes trained on the water.

Amidst the trills and croaks and chirps of the small, harmless creatures came the occasional bellow of a bull gator. All around him, he could sense the scurry of tiny feet through dead leaves, the watchful eyes deep within the shadows.

After a while, his patient vigil was rewarded, and he spotted the telltale ribbon of silver in the water. A snake swam, head up, toward the bank and a moment later, the thick body glided through the moss and underbrush mere inches from where Ellis perched.

The serpent must have sensed his presence for it stopped, hidden in the shadow of a rotting log. Ellis had a stick in one hand, and, rising, he struck it against the ground where the reptile lay concealed.

Most snakes would have slithered even farther under the log for protection, but not the cottonmouth. Water moccasins were stubborn and aggressive, and Ellis knew only too well that they would sometimes come at you if you weren't careful.

The snake reared up out of the shadows, mouth wide open, fangs bared and ready. It sprang forward, whether to strike or to frighten, Ellis didn't know. Or care. He was ready for it. His hand shot out, grasping the moccasin behind the fist-sized head. Laughing softly, he lifted the serpent up high.

In the moonlight, Ellis could see the thick bulge of the poison sacs beneath the gleaming eyes. The odor emitted from the open mouth was dank and foul, like stagnated water, but Ellis didn't mind it.

The thick body curled and writhed, and he laughed again. “You'll not get away from me,” he said. “I have big plans for you.”

He'd brought a burlap sack from home, and with one hand, he shoved the snake inside, then with the other hand, he drew the drawstring tight. The sides of the bag moved and shivered as the snake searched for a way out.

Careful to hold the bag above the drawstring, Ellis set off through the woods.

He emerged half a mile downstream where a brush arbor had been erected on the bank of the swamp. An old-timey revival meeting was in full swing, and he moved in closer to watch, though he had no intention of participating.

She was there. He could see her blond hair glistening underneath the string of lights powered by a nearby generator. While the congregation swayed and clapped and some members even passed out cold as the rapture overcame them, she remained as still as a statue.

Ellis moved to the side of the arbor so that he could see her profile. Bathed in all that light, she looked like an angel, and his heart raced as he watched her. Ellis had all the confidence in the world, but truth be told, he was still a little in awe of her.

Which was why, up until now, he'd been content to remain her follower. But over the past few days, he'd been getting antsy. All this plotting and planning…Why not just snatch the kid and be done with it?

He knew the answer, of course. The sword of God had to be wielded with both valor and discretion.

On the makeshift stage, two men held snakes high above their heads as the preacher, eyes closed, hands lifted to heaven, spoke in an unknown tongue.

His rich, baritone voice echoed through the dark
ness, across the swamp, and stirred something deep and primitive inside Ellis's soul.

Moving to the back of the arbor, he felt his control slip away as the power of the moment swept over him.

Against his will, he began to quiver and shake all over, and his knees turned to jelly. When he collapsed to the ground, he lay in the dirt, eyes rolled back in his head, tongue flicking in and out as he began to writhe and twist like the moccasin in the burlap bag beside him.

The spell lasted only a moment, but when he came to himself and sat up, his heart pounded in elation because he knew without a doubt that his seizure had been a sign.

Ellis Cooper was, indeed, one of the chosen. A warrior, a prophet, a demon chaser with the power of God behind him.

A
s soon as she could get away the next day, Evangeline drove over to see Lena Saunders. Josh opened the door, showing not the slightest bit of surprise at her unannounced visit.

“Nice to see you again, Detective. I'll go get Lena.”

This time he merely waved her into the living room as he continued down the hallway toward the back of the house.

Lena Saunders appeared a few minutes later. Today she was dressed all in white and her blond hair fell in thick, gleaming waves to her shoulders.

“Hello,” she said as she glided into the room. “I wasn't expecting to see you again so soon. I'm delighted, of course.” She waved toward the chair Evangeline had occupied the day before. “Please have a seat.”

“I don't need to sit,” Evangeline said. “This won't take long.”

“What's on your mind?”

“I've made some calls, done some background research,” Evangeline said. “I don't have anything to report yet on Rebecca Lemay's whereabouts, but I'm working on it. I spoke to the administrator at Pinehurst Manor and he's agreed to see me. I'm driving up there as soon as I can get away. It's possible the hospital will have a forwarding address for Rebecca.”

“What about the old Lemay house?” Lena asked. “I'm convinced someone saw Rebecca there a few days ago.”

“I'll have a look around,” Evangeline said. “But it's out of my jurisdiction. All I can do is ask a few questions. The sheriff down there is under no obligation to cooperate.”

Lena nodded. “I understand. But hopefully you'll be able to get more out of him than I've been able to. You'll give me a call if you find out anything?”

“Yes, but don't expect a daily report. This could take a while. It's not like I can devote myself to it full-time. Unless Lapierre sees fit to put me back on the Courtland case, I'll have to do most of the legwork on my own time.”

“How will you explain your absence when you drive up to Pinehurst?”

“I'll take a personal day,” Evangeline said. The first one since she'd returned from maternity leave.

“I've made some calls, too,” Lena said as she crossed the room to a sleek black writing desk. Opening a small notebook, she ripped off the top sheet. “I was afraid at first I wouldn't have much to report. My sources at NOPD were reluctant to talk about Johnny's case. Now I know why. Were you aware that the FBI has taken over the investigation?”

“What?”
Evangeline stared at her in shock. “Why would the FBI have Johnny's case? That doesn't make any sense.”

“I agree,” Lena said. “But that's a question for this man.” She handed Evangeline the slip of paper she'd ripped from the notebook. “As I understand it, he's the one who's been put in charge of Johnny's case.”

Evangeline looked down at the name neatly written in black ink.

Special Agent Declan Nash.

 

Nash could have refused to see Detective Theroux, but he suspected she would camp out in the parking lot until he left for the night.

Might as well let her have her say, he decided.

He went downstairs and got her himself. She had to sign in and surrender her weapon before passing through the metal detector, and as she walked toward him, clipping the visitor's badge to her lapel, he could see that her eyes were burning with anger.
She was absolutely furious and he wondered what she'd managed to dig up in the short time since he'd last seen her. Her resolve was pretty formidable.

“Let's go upstairs to my office,” he said as he headed for the elevators.

She was silent on the way up. Facing forward, she glanced neither to the right nor left, and when they reached his floor, she disembarked and stepped aside so that he could lead the way.

Once they were in his office, he closed the door and motioned to a chair as he settled in behind his desk. “What can I do for you, Detective Theroux?”

“You can start by telling me why the FBI has taken charge of my husband's murder investigation. Or more specifically, why
you've
taken charge of it.”

“You've obviously been misinformed. Again.”

“And you obviously still think I'm an idiot. You've been manipulating this whole thing right from the start. What I can't figure out is why. I'm guessing Johnny had something to do with the Sonny Betts operation, am I right? Did he—how did you put it?—blunder in over his head and you failed to wade in and pull him out in time?”

Nash studied her from across his desk, wondering who in the hell at NOPD was leaking information to her.

He didn't like loose lips and he liked mistakes even less, especially when they were of his own making. He'd made a gross miscalculation with De
tective Theroux. He'd done the one thing he'd sworn he wouldn't do. He'd underestimated her.

In spite of her impressive record, in spite of everything he knew about her, he'd never expected her to get this far.

He'd used bad judgment, including his failure to bring in Nathan Mallet when he had the chance. Now the poor bastard was dead, and some of his blood might arguably be on Nash's hands.

But not Johnny Theroux's blood.

That situation had already been set in motion before Nash had ever even arrived in New Orleans. His job had been the cleanup.

He was still cleaning up.

Rising, he walked over to the window to stare down at the parking lot. Some view, he thought.

“You've got some of it right,” he finally said as he turned back to face Evangeline.

Her blue eyes burned with anger. “Which part?”

“It does have something to do with the Betts operation. Johnny walked in on a buy.”

“You mean a drug deal?”

“Drugs, arms. Like I said, Sonny Betts has his fingers in a lot of pies these days. Whether Johnny knew what he was walking into or not, we don't know. Maybe he was tipped off, maybe he was just at the wrong place at the wrong time.”

Her eyes were still blazing, but her voice was un
naturally calm. “Nathan Mallet told me that Johnny went to the parking garage to meet a woman that night.”

“I wouldn't put too much stock in anything Nathan Mallet had to say. I'm sure his main interest was getting you off his back.”

“Why?”

He turned back to the window for a moment, frowning into the sunlight. “Mallet was a dirty cop. He'd been on the take for years.” When she didn't respond, he glanced over his shoulder. “You don't seem surprised.”

“About Nathan? I guess I'm not. The way he behaved after Johnny's shooting…I knew something was wrong. Was he working for Betts?”

“That's a reasonable assumption.”

She looked annoyed by his parsing. “Is that a yes or a no?”

“I can't give you a definitive answer.”

“Can't or won't?”

He shrugged.

She decided to try another tack. “Did Nathan lure Johnny into the parking garage that night?”

“He might have, if he thought Johnny was onto him.”

She got up and came over to the window where he stood. “You do know Nathan's dead?”

“Yes.”

“Of course you do,” she said ruefully. “You prob
ably knew before we did. You probably also know that he was killed the same way Johnny was. Three shots—two to the chest and one to the face.”

“Sounds like somebody wanted to make sure he didn't talk.”

“You think Betts had him killed?”

“I think there were a number of people who wanted Nathan Mallet to go away.”

“Including you guys?”

“We're not in the extermination business,” he said.

“Not lately, anyway,” she muttered. She walked back over to the chair, but she didn't sit. She was too amped for that. “Why wasn't I told any of this before?”

“You weren't asking questions before. When you came back to work after your baby was born, you started shaking things up. That's when you got our attention. We couldn't allow you to take things too far.”

“Allow?”
Her outrage flared. “That's why you had me removed from the Courtland case. You didn't want me connecting it to Johnny.”

“We didn't want you going anywhere near Sonny Betts with some half-cocked notion of revenge.”

“I'm not into revenge,” she said. “What I am into is justice.”

“You'll get it,” he said. “It may take a while, but you'll have your justice.”

“And why should I believe that?” she asked coldly. “When I haven't been able to trust a single word out of your mouth yet.”

 

Nash stood at the window and watched her stride across the parking lot to her car.

He'd done a piss-poor job of containing this whole situation, but at least now he was dealing with Evangeline Theroux face-to-face.

He'd never had much of a taste for the machinations that came with his job. He preferred a much more straightforward approach, though he didn't delude himself into thinking this was over. Evangeline Theroux was now a woman on a mission, and he knew she wouldn't give up without a fight. She'd keeping digging and digging until she uncovered the truth.

But truth was a relative term.

The question now wasn't so much
if
she found out, but when and how. It was a matter of degrees and increments. Control was the key.

His phone rang and he removed it from his pocket to glance at the name on the display: Louisiana Correctional Institute for Women.

He closed his eyes and drew a breath. “Hello?”

“Dad?”

At the sound of his daughter's voice, Nash's chest tightened and he felt a familiar wave of helplessness
wash over him even as he tried to keep his voice calm and normal. “Hi, baby. How are you today?”

“Not so good. This place is awful, Dad. I don't think I can stand it here one more day. I'm going crazy. Sometimes I wish I could just…” Her voice caught as she trailed off. She sounded like the lost little girl that she was. “I just want to come home.”

“I know you do.” He drew another breath as he ran a hand through his hair. “But that's not going to happen anytime soon.”

“I know.”

“I'll try to come up there to see you this weekend,” he said. “Would you like that?”

“Yes. But, Dad…when's Mom coming? It's been so long since I've seen her. Is she mad at me?”

“No, baby. She's just busy. New husband and all that. I'll give her a call and see if we can stagger our weekends. That way it won't be so long between visits. Would that help?”

“I guess so. I just want to get out of here. Please, Daddy.
Please.
There must be something you can do.”

She started to sob quietly into the phone.

Nash looked out over the sun-baked parking lot as his throat tightened and his chest felt ready to explode. “You killed someone, Jamie. I can't make that go away.”