The Whispering Room (8 page)

“Yeah, my mom came by and got it this afternoon. Hers is in the shop.”

“Do you need a lift?”

“It's not that far. I don't mind walking.”

Evangeline glanced out the window. “It's getting pretty late.”

Jessie laughed. “It's not
that
late. It's still daylight out.”

“And this is still New Orleans.”

“Hey, you're a cop. You should know you can't believe everything you hear on the news about the crime rate here.”

Evangeline didn't point out that there was plenty of crime that didn't even get reported, let alone make the evening news.

Jessie cocked her head. “You okay? You seem a little stressed.”

“I'm just tired. And I guess I am being a little too soccer momish. Sorry.”

Jessie grinned. “It's nice to have someone worry about me once in a while.”

Even though she lived only a few blocks over, Evangeline didn't know that much about Jessie's home life. She had the impression, though, that
things between Jessie and her mother had been tense lately.

She also had a feeling it had something to do with a boyfriend, but Evangeline wasn't about to pry. She remembered all too well how hurt and angry she'd been by her father's disapproval of Johnny.

Besides, whatever the problems in her personal life, Jessie was a conscientious and caring sitter, and J.D. loved her. That was really all that mattered to Evangeline.

Jessie came over to drop a kiss on the top of the baby's head before she left, and he grabbed the necklace that dangled from her throat. It reminded Evangeline of the medallion that Sonny Betts wore. “Be a good boy for Mama, J.D. Let her get some rest tonight, okay?”

“That'd be a nice change.”

“You ever want me to come over and stay while you take a nap or something, just call. I could always use the extra cash.”

“I may take you up on that.”

Evangeline carried the baby out to the porch and watched as Jessie ran down the steps. She waited until the girl was out of sight before she turned to go back inside.

Despite the baby clutter all over the place and J.D. fussing in her arms, the house seemed empty and quiet as she closed the door.

An image of Meredith Courtland came to her
suddenly, and Evangeline wondered if the woman felt all alone tonight in that great big house of hers. She had everything that money could buy, but her wealth wouldn't inoculate her from loneliness. It wouldn't spare her the despair that would set in as soon as she lay down to sleep.

Evangeline walked across the room to the windows that looked out on the tiny backyard. As she stared out at the deepening shadows, J.D. dropped his little head to her shoulder and gave a deep, troubled sigh.

“It's all right,” she whispered. “I'm here.”

But even as she held her son close, Evangeline's mind refused to shut down. Snippets of the day's conversations kept rolling around inside her head.

I don't want to end up like that dead cop.

There's not one shred of evidence linking Johnny to Paul Courtland or Sonny Betts. Not one shred.

You're grasping at straws, Evie.

Maybe she was. Maybe the reason she clung so hard to her obsession was because when she finally let it go, she would have to let Johnny slip away, too.

And Evangeline wasn't ready to say goodbye. She wasn't sure she ever would be.

 

After the baby was fed and bathed, Evangeline put him in his swing while she examined the box Jessie had left on the table.

The package had been sent via UPS by a local company she'd never heard of and the return address was a post office box rather than a physical address.

Being a cop and naturally cautious to boot, a strange package would normally have given her pause, but her mother had recently developed a mean shopping addiction, which, Evangeline suspected, was in retaliation for her father's perceived neglect.

In the past few months, Lynette Jennings had entered the world of home shopping networks with a vengeance—cubic zirconia jewelry being her favorite indulgence—and lately she'd also discovered the Internet.

To conceal her expensive obsession, she'd started having some of the packages shipped to Evangeline's house. Although Evangeline had long ago concluded that if her father were home as rarely as her mother let on, he probably wouldn't even notice all the deliveries anyway.

But that little contradiction didn't seem to faze her mother, who seemed to get a perverse pleasure from thinking that she could still pull the wool over her husband's eyes.

So Evangeline kept her observations to herself. The last thing she wanted to do was get caught in the middle of her parents' squabbling. She tried her best to stay neutral, but if everything her mother told her was true, she could only deduce that her sixty-year-old father had slowly but surely lost his mind.

But she was too tired to worry about all that tonight.

As she tidied up the living room, she started to place the box by the door so she'd remember to take it to her mother's the next morning. Then she changed her mind, and thought, what the heck? Her name was on the label so she might as well take a peek inside. A diversion would do her good, and besides, sometimes her mother actually did order things for her and the baby.

Removing the packing tape, Evangeline unfolded the flaps and removed a layer of bubble wrap. Nested inside sheets of pale blue tissue paper was a mobile made out of origami cranes. Each was done in a different color and pattern, but the shape and size were identical.

Lifting the mobile from the box, Evangeline carefully untangled the gold cords from which the paper cranes were suspended.

“See the pretty birds, J.D.?” She held them up so that her son would notice them.

There wasn't a card, but Evangeline knew the mobile had come from her mother. Who else would spend good money for a bunch of paper birds?

“That Nana. I'd hate to be the one paying her American Express bill these days. But that's not our problem, is it, J.D.?” Evangeline placed the mobile back in the box and got to her feet. “Let's go put this on your bed.”

She laid the baby in the crib while she fastened the mobile to the rail. J.D.'s arms and legs flailed excitedly as she wound the music box. But once the melody started to play and the cranes took flight, he grew very still, almost as if the sound had a hypnotic effect on him.

The tune was something lovely and haunting, and it seemed familiar to Evangeline, but she couldn't place it. The soft tinkle was like a memory that flittered just out of her reach.

As soon as the mechanism wound down, J.D. started to fuss, so Evangeline turned the key a few more times.

The same thing happened when the music stopped.

He grew very agitated only to fall silent the moment the melody started up again. After five or six turns, his little eyes started to droop and finally he drifted off.

For the longest time, Evangeline stood beside the crib, watching her son sleep.

When will it happen? she wondered.
When will it finally seem as if he's really mine?

She loved him, of course, but she'd never felt that overwhelming rush of emotion that new mothers were supposed to experience when they looked at their babies. J.D. still seemed like a tiny stranger to Evangeline, and more often than not, she felt completely out of her depth.

She did everything a mother was supposed to do for her child. She fed him, bathed him, walked the floor at night when he couldn't sleep. She even made time to cuddle. But it wasn't enough, and Evangeline knew there was something lacking in her.

The baby whimpered in his sleep as if even then he could pick up on her mood.

He was so sweet and so innocent and so totally at her mercy. The notion that she and she alone was responsible for his well-being overwhelmed Evangeline, and she'd never in her life felt so inadequate.

“I'm doing the best I can,” she whispered.

Not good enough,
said a voice inside her head.

Johnny's voice.

He's our son, Evangeline. Why can't you love him the way he deserves to be loved?

It was a question she'd asked herself a million times since the rainy Tuesday night her baby had been born.

Turning out the light, she tiptoed from the nursery and headed for the kitchen, where she poured herself a glass of wine. Grabbing the baby monitor, she went outside to sit on the front stoop for a while.

With twilight came a cooling breeze from the gulf that stirred the banana trees and the night-blooming jasmine climbing up a neighbor's trellis.

This was the time of day, with the sky still glow
ing from the sunset and the air soft and perfumed, that Evangeline missed Johnny the most. At times like this, her loneliness seemed bone-deep and boundless.

Down the street, several cars were parked in front of a house blazing with lights. Music and laughter drifted through the open windows, and melancholy tightened like a fist around Evangeline's heart.

She wondered if they were celebrating an anniversary or a birthday, or if a casual get-together had blossomed into a full-blown party.

That was the way it used to happen at their place. Not this house, but the home she and Johnny had shared. Almost all of their parties had begun with a few friends dropping by. Then calls would be made, food and drink would be brought in. Before Evangeline knew it, their tiny house would be brimming with cops and the spouses of cops.

People who worked in law enforcement were an insular bunch, and as with any other group, there were those who fit in and those who didn't. Most of the cops Evangeline worked with had always viewed her as something of an odd duck, but once she and Johnny became a couple, they'd at least made an effort to accept her. If doubts lingered, it was shelved for Johnny's sake because everyone loved him.

But since his death, Evangeline was once again the odd man out. Not that she cared about a social
life. Even growing up in the midst of a loving family, she'd always been a loner.

But Johnny was the opposite. He'd loved being surrounded by people.

Evangeline supposed his need for company came from being so alone as a child. His mother had abandoned him when he was a baby, leaving him to be raised by an aging grandmother who lived in the country. When she passed, he'd been shuffled through a series of foster homes until he was old enough to strike out on his own.

So, yeah, it was easy to understand why family and friends had meant so much to him.

Which made it all the more poignant that he'd died alone, in a deserted parking garage, crawling toward the exit.

Evangeline drew a shaky breath as memories of that night flooded through her.

Mitchell had come to the house to break the news to her. She'd been so stunned and distraught, she hadn't asked for many of the details that first night. It was only later that she'd found out Johnny had been shot three times.

According to the coroner, the first bullet had only maimed him. He'd tried to get away from his assailant, but the second shot to the heart had killed him. The third shot had hit him in the face and obliterated his appearance so that even a forensic dental exam had been useless.

“Evangeline? That you up there, hon?”

She'd been so engrossed in dark memories, she hadn't noticed her elderly neighbor approach the walkway in front of her house. The woman stood at the edge of the yard, peering through the falling dusk.

“You're out kind of late, aren't you, Miss Violet? Is everything okay?”

“I'm looking for Smokey. That blame cat got out again. You haven't seen him, have you?”

“No, but if I do, I'll grab him and bring him home.”

“Thanks, hon. I'd be much obliged. Ornery ol' coot ain't worth much, but he's all I got. I'd hate to lose him.”

“Try not to worry. I'll keep my eyes peeled,” Evangeline promised.

She watched as Violet shuffled back across the street. The woman stood in the yard for a few minutes, calling loudly for her cat before she finally gave up and went inside.

The night fell silent, except for the occasional burst of laughter from down the street. A moth flitted past Evangeline's cheek, and as she swatted it away, she caught a movement off to the side of the porch.

She froze, trying not to react, but her heart thudded against her chest, and she suddenly wished she'd brought her gun outside with her. She, of all people, knew how dangerous the city had become,
with roving gangs of thugs terrorizing neighborhoods that had once been considered safe havens.

As Evangeline searched the darkness, she thought about her son, all alone in the house. If someone were hiding in the shadows, it would be up to her to protect him.

She waited, breathless, but nothing happened.