The Reckoning

For that matter, it was probably the only secret in Vodoun.

“Fine, then,” Jasper said finally. “Get it over with as fast as possible and put everything you find in the file.”

“And if I find anything that indicates something could have happened to Erika besides Bobby taking her?”

“That’s not going to happen.”

The sound of Jasper slamming the phone down echoed in his ear as he parked. The blinds were open on the unit across from Bobby’s and he could see someone moving around inside. He climbed out of the truck and made his way up the sidewalk, pleased that the neighbor was home and he could finalize this angle of questioning.

The woman who opened the door was young, probably midtwenties, wearing workout clothes and didn’t look overly happy that he’d interrupted her routine. He flashed his badge, and her demeanor immediately shifted as she waved him inside.

“Has something happened to my family?” the woman asked, clearly nervous. “Just tell me and get it over with.”

Holt realized his faux pas and moved to correct it. “I’m sorry to frighten you, Miss, but I’m here to ask you some questions about your neighbor, Bobby Rhonaldo.”

Her shoulders relaxed and she blew out a breath. “Thank God. My parents insisted on retiring in an RV and gallivanting across the country. I remain in a constant state of worry.”

“Understandable.”

She pulled a bottle of water out of the refrigerator and offered it to him. He shook his head so she twisted the top off the bottle and slid onto a stool at the kitchen counter. “You said you’re here about Bobby?”

“Yes. Did you know him?”

“Not well. I’m a nurse at the clinic and I usually work the night shift, so I’m not awake during normal hours. I introduced myself when he moved in, and I’ve said hello a couple of times when I was coming home from shift and he was leaving for work. That’s about it.”

Holt nodded. “Were you at home when he moved?”

She frowned. “Yeah. That was weird. My shift started at midnight and when I walked out, two guys were loading Bobby’s bed and clothes in a moving truck. I asked about Bobby, but they said he was busy and they’d been paid to move his stuff. They had a key, so I went on to work.”

“You said it was weird, though. Why?”

She flipped the cap over between her fingers for a couple of seconds, then blew out a breath. “This is going to sound stupid, but something didn’t feel right. I mean, they had a key, and I guess if midnight is when you have time to do something, then that’s when you do it. But they … unnerved me, I guess is the best way to put it.

“Look,” she continued, “I’m no wilting daisy. I’ve been living on my own since I was seventeen. Worked my way through college as a nurse’s assistant on the nightshift at a hospital in New Orleans. I’ve seen plenty that would scare the life out of normal people, so for something to bother me is weird.”

“Would you recognize them if you saw them again?”

“I think so.”

“Thanks,” Holt said and handed the woman a card. “If you think of anything else or happen to see the men anywhere, call dispatch and tell them to get in touch with me immediately.”

The woman placed the card on the counter and walked him to the door. “Hey,” she said, as he was about to walk away. “One of the guys had a tattoo on the back of his right hand.”

He stiffened. “Could you tell what it was?”

“It was kinda dark on the sidewalk, but it looked like an eye.”

Holt nodded and walked to his truck, hoping his concern at the woman’s description hadn’t shown on his face. He didn’t think the woman was in any danger and didn’t want her to worry. But Holt had seen that tattoo before.

On the man who’d murdered his father.

Chapter Three

Alex poured herself a cup of coffee and carried it and decaffeinated tea for Sarah over to the breakfast nook table. The drugs had kicked in, so Sarah appeared less hysterical and more focused than she had been earlier, which was a relief to Alex. She needed Sarah’s mind sharp if they were going to find Erika, especially as the police were tapped out on avenues of investigation.

“How are you feeling?” Alex asked, studying her cousin’s face. Some of the color had returned, eliminating the ghostlike look she’d worn earlier. The skin around her eyes was puffy and red from crying, but that was hardly unexpected.

“I’m as good as I’m getting for now.”

“Do you want anything to eat?”

“No. My stomach couldn’t handle it.”

“Okay, but don’t go too long without having something … even dry toast.”

Sarah looked up and gave her a small smile. “Yes, mom.”

Alex slid into the chair across from Sarah and pulled a small pad of paper out of her purse to take notes, then changed her mind and reached for her recorder. “Do you mind if I tape this? I want to make sure I get everything.”

“That’s fine,” Sarah said and looked at her, a guilty expression on her face. “I’m sorry for not telling you Holt was back in town.”

“I was bound to hear about it sooner or later,” Alex said, trying to sound as casual as possible.

“I guess. I’d hoped that he’d figure out what he was doing next and be gone before you crossed paths.”

“Well, it’s happened and no one shouted or cried. It’s been ten years, and we’ve both moved on with our lives, but I appreciate your concern.”

“We’re cousins. Looking out for each other is what we do, right?”

Alex reached across the small table and squeezed Sarah’s hand. “Absolutely. Have you told your mother?”

“No. She’s not … good. Not since Dad died.”

“I’ll call the nurse’s aide tomorrow and talk to her about your mom’s care. Let’s keep this between us for now.” Sarah’s mother had been in a nursing home for several years battling lung cancer, but ever since the death of her husband she’d seemed to give up entirely.

“Are you ready to talk?”

Sarah nodded and Alex slipped a blank tape into the recorder and turned it on. “Start with what you told me earlier, so I can get it on tape, okay?”

Her cousin recounted the details she’d provided earlier with Alex interrupting to clarify names and times. When she was done, Alex said, “When you called me, you said the witch took Erika. What did you mean?”

Sarah stared blankly over Alex’s shoulder and out the window. “You know what I meant.”

Alex felt a trickle of fear run up her spine. “That stuff about the witch was all a story. You know … something parents made up to keep us kids from playing in the swamp.”

“Was it, really?” Sarah locked her gaze on Alex. “Do you know that for certain? You saw the same thing on that island as I did. Are you going to deny that?”

A chill passed over Alex and she crossed her arms and leaned on the table. “I’m not denying what we saw, nor that it scared the life out of me. But the police never found any proof that the woman who lived there took those kids.”

“The witch that lived there,” Sarah corrected. “The police didn’t want to believe.”

“Believe what?” Alex blew out a breath. “That a witch on an island in a swamp kidnapped children and used them as sacrifices in a voodoo ritual? Of course, they didn’t want to believe something like that, but it wouldn’t stop them from investigating. There was never any evidence that those kids had been on the island.”

“The evidence was burned in the ceremony. You know something about the old ways, Alex, even if your current life has you locked into science. You know the swamps of Mystere Parish are full of people who practice black arts and have for hundreds of years.”

Alex threw up her hands. “Even if it were all true, what makes you think Erika is on the island?”

“Because.” Sarah rose from the table and walked into the kitchen. She climbed onto a step stool to open a cabinet above the refrigerator and pulled out something in a brown paper bag. “I found this in her room, hidden under her bed.”

She opened the bag and pulled out a doll with blond hair and blue eyes and placed it on the table. The blood rushed to Alex’s head and she gripped the edge of the table to steady herself as a wave of dizziness washed over her.

It couldn’t be. Not after all this time.

“Where did she get this?” she asked, struggling to maintain a calm tone.

“Not in any store, that’s for sure. I looked it up online. That doll hasn’t been manufactured in over thirty years.”

“Did you ask her?”

“Of course I asked. After I had a heart attack and then managed to regain control. She said she found it in the backyard at the edge of the swamp, but she was lying.”

Alex stared. “How do you know?”

Sarah shrugged. “She’s my kid. I know when she’s lying. I pushed the issue, but she stuck to her story.”

“Have you told her about … I mean warned her in a way she could understand?”

“I told her an old, evil woman lived in the swamp and that it wasn’t safe for little girls to go into the swamp without an adult. She’s always stayed away before. I checked all her shoes and her rubber boots, but there was no sign she’d been in the swamp or tried to wash away the evidence.”

Alex’s mind raced, trying to absorb everything Sarah said … trying to make sense of all of it. “When did you find the doll?”

“Three days ago.” Sarah slumped back into her chair. “And then there was the crow.”

“What crow?”

“It was on the clothesline outside Erika’s bedroom window every morning for the last week when I went in to wake her. I closed the blinds and went outside to shoo it away, but every morning, it was right back in place.”

Sarah shivered. “Last night, I heard a noise out back. I looked out the kitchen window and could make out the outline of the crow just sitting there. Like it was watching her, even though the blinds were closed.” She looked straight at Alex. “You know it’s an omen.”

“No.” Alex shook her head. “I don’t know any such thing.”

“What about those birds that fell from the sky last week? It was all over the news. Hundreds of them, Alex, lying everywhere in Mystere Parish.”

“There are theories—”

Sarah waved a hand, cutting her off. “I know all about the theories, and I know what Sam LeBlanc down at Animal Control told me—that the vet couldn’t find anything wrong with any of the birds he autopsied. They’re lying so they don’t cause a panic.”

“They just haven’t figured out the reason, yet,” Alex said, forbidding her mind to wander into Sarah’s realm of thinking.

“We have to go out there,” Sarah whispered.

“No!”

“Why not?” Sarah challenged. “If there’s really no danger, as you suggest, then what’s the harm?”

“Because the swamp contains all sorts of dangers that aren’t mystical. You know that as well as anyone. Don’t play stupid now. I won’t listen to it.”

“So you think an alligator or two should keep me from looking for my baby?”

Alex took one look at the determined look on Sarah’s face and knew she’d never win this argument. “You can’t just go tromping around the swamp without a plan. Neither one of us owns a boat, and we haven’t fired a weapon since we were kids. We’re not equipped for this.”

“So we rent a boat, and I know plenty of people who’d loan us rifles. It’s not like you forget how to use one altogether, you know.”

“No. We went to that island twenty years ago. I don’t even know if we could find it, and even if we did, we could be arrested for being there.” A thought flashed through her mind and as hard as she tried to shut it down, it was the only thing that made sense.

“What?” Sarah asked. “You have that look like you thought of something. I’m desperate. I’ll do anything to get my baby back.”

Alex nodded, her mind made up. “We don’t have the authority or the equipment to get to the island, but I know someone who does.”

“Holt?” Sarah shook her head. “His uncle will never let him do that … not for me.”

Alex clicked off the recorder and stuffed it in her purse along with her notebook. “So I’ll ask him to do it for me.”

Sarah bit her lower lip, but a tiny bit of hope flickered in her eyes. “What if he says no?”

“He won’t say no.” Alex rose from the table and bent over to kiss Sarah’s cheek. “He owes me.”

HOLT WAS JUST CLOSING UP his office at the sheriff’s department when Alex strode in the front door. He took one look at the determined look on her face and knew he was in for it. He’d seen that look many times before, and it always ended with Alex getting her way or getting angry. Given the situation between Sarah and his uncle, he didn’t see how this was going to end well for him at all.

“I need to speak to you,” she said, her voice clipped and professional. She glanced over at the dispatcher, then back at him. “Alone.”

He opened the office door and waved her inside. “Did you learn anything more from Sarah?”

“Yes, but you’re not going to like it.” She recounted Sarah’s story about the doll and the crow.

Holt leaned back in his chair, trying to ignore the overwhelming feeling that he was on shaky ground. Sarah’s fears were outrageous, but what didn’t compute was why Alex had brought them to him.

“You can’t possibly think that a six-year-old managed to find that island, steal a doll and get back home without her mother noticing she was missing.”

“No, but I also don’t think she ordered a thirty-year-old doll off eBay and paid for it with animal crackers, either. What if someone left the doll for her to find? What if someone gave it to her? All I know is what Sarah told me. Everything started happening after Erika brought the doll into the house.”

“You know I don’t believe in that stuff,” he said finally, but even then, that niggle of doubt had already started in the back of his mind. “Maybe when we were kids it seemed plausible, but I thought we’d grown up.”

“We have, and normally, I would try to diminish or redirect someone’s thoughts away from this line of thinking, but Sarah’s child is missing. No amount of logic or scientific explanation or even calling her childish is going to talk her out of this. Either you lock Sarah up to keep her out of the swamp, or someone is going to have to check that island for Erika.”

“Someone?” He stared at her for a moment, then shook his head. “Oh, no. I’m not going out there.”

“You scared?”

Holt bristled and sat upright in the chair. “Hardly. But that island is private property and I have no grounds for a warrant and even less for trespassing.”

“It’s not trespassing if you go to ask questions, is it? You don’t even know if the woman is still there. She wasn’t young when we were kids. Maybe she’s dead. Maybe the island is empty. Regardless, you have every right to walk up there and ask anyone you find if they’ve seen a missing little girl.”

Holt searched his mind for an argument, but he couldn’t latch onto one. Not a legal one, anyway.

“Of course,” Alex continued, “if you’re concerned that your uncle won’t approve, I could always hire a guide and go myself. I’m sure I can find someone at the docks who’s willing to take me out there.”

“No! You’re not traipsing around that swamp with some underemployed fisherman looking to make a quick buck.”

Alex leaned forward in her chair. “You lost the right to have any input in my life a long time ago. Either you do this with me, or I do it with someone else. Rest assured, I’m going into that swamp to look for Erika, if for no other reason than to put Sarah’s mind at ease.”

Holt held in a string of cuss words that would only hack Alex off and wouldn’t make him feel any better about the situation, anyway. He knew he was fighting a losing battle.

Something had happened to Alex and Sarah many years ago in that swamp—something they refused to tell Holt about, but something that scared them so badly it had changed them permanently. If Sarah thought there was any risk of Erika encountering the same thing they had—whatever that was—he knew nothing short of death or arrest would keep her out of the swamp.

“Fine,” he said, “but I’m not going into that swamp at night and neither are you. That’s not up for discussion, regardless of what rights I lost.”

She rose from her chair. “I have no problem with waiting until daylight.”

“Six, then. At the dock.”

“I’ll bring coffee.” She gave him a single nod and walked out of the sheriff’s office.

I’ll bring the questions. If ever Holt was going to get an answer to what had happened in that swamp years ago, it would be now, when it might affect his ability to find Erika. And you could bet he was going to ask.

Through the plate-glass window, Holt watched Alex drive away and for the second time that day felt as if he’d been hit by a truck. Managing an entire day alone with Alex, without wanting her, was going to be impossible. He’d known that as soon as he’d seen her walk into Sarah’s house. And he had no idea what excuse he was going to give his uncle for requisitioning the sheriff department’s airboat and cruising around the swamp all day.

But he was going to have to think of something.

He didn’t think for one minute that a witch on an island in the swamp had taken Erika, but he didn’t quite believe Bobby had, either. That left him in a quandary, and Holt didn’t like unanswered questions. This situation was full of them.

Reaching into the desk drawer, he pulled out his uncle’s whiskey bottle and poured himself a shot. He wasn’t about to admit to Alex that Sarah’s story had unnerved him just a bit. He’d have liked to blame his upbringing—a superstitious, overprotective mother and an absentee father—but it was more than that. During his time overseas with the military, he’d been special ops, and he’d spent some time in places the military wasn’t technically supposed to be.

He’d seen a lot of things he couldn’t explain. So many that he stopped dismissing ideas just because they didn’t compute in a traditional way, the way he had when he’d been a boy in Vodoun. Maybe Erika had found the doll somewhere she wasn’t supposed to be and that was why she lied, but it was far more likely that a stranger had given Erika the doll. Sarah, being a good parent, would have cautioned Erika not to talk to strangers, much less take something from them, which was why the girl would have lied.

None of that explained who had given a thirty-year-old doll to a little girl, where Erika or Bobby were, the mysterious staring crow or the birds falling from the sky. Except coincidence.

And Holt hated coincidence even more than he did unanswered questions.

Chapter Four

Alex pulled up to the dock at five minutes till six, already nervous about the day before it even started. The local weatherman had reported a disturbance in the Gulf of Mexico that was due to hit Vodoun that evening. The sky was already gray and overcast and made everything seem even grimmer.

Holt stood on the dock talking to one of the local fishermen, and Alex couldn’t help but notice how good he looked in ragged jeans, a black T-shirt and steel-toe boots. Time certainly hadn’t erased his sex appeal, and that frightened her.

But not as much as their destination.

Twenty years ago, Alex had promised herself she’d never set foot in the swamp again, and all these years she’d kept that promise. Erika and Sarah were the only reason she was going there now.

Let’s get this over with.

She climbed out of the car and reached back inside for the two coffees in the center console. The fisherman was still talking to Holt, who gave her a nod as she approached. When the fisherman saw her, he wrapped up his conversation and headed to his boat.

“I hope that’s strong and black,” Holt said.

Alex handed him one of the cups. “Is there another kind?”

“Not in my book.” Holt took a sip of the coffee. “You ready?”

She sat her coffee down on the pier. “Yeah. Let me grab my things.”

She hurried to her car and pulled her backpack from the passenger’s seat. Slinging it over her shoulder, she headed back to the dock.

Holt looked down the bayou, then back at her feet. “This is going to be rough. I’m glad you wore good boots.”

“Just because I live in the city doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten what the bayou’s like,” Alex said.

She placed her backpack on the pier and removed a nine-millimeter from the side pocket. She checked the clip for the third time that morning, then slipped the gun back into the pocket, zipping it tight.

“I don’t remember nines when we were kids,” Holt commented. “Or is that something you picked up in the big city?”

“Actually, it belongs to Ms. Maude. I paid her a visit last night after I got Sarah to sleep.”

“Ms. Maude? The crazy old cat lady on Miller Lane?”

“No. Ms. Maude, who likes cats, whose father was a Precision Military Weapons Specialist and who happens to have a target gallery in her barn.”

“That explains a lot,” Holt said, “especially about her single status.”

“So what you’re saying is that Ms. Maude might have married if all the men in Vodoun weren’t a bunch of wimps?”

“I think it’s safer if I don’t say anything else at all.” He took another drink of his coffee and glanced down at her mug, which was still sitting on the dock.

She placed her backpack in the boat and scooped up her coffee. “Don’t even think about it,” she said. “I’d kill people for less.”

Holt sighed and untied the airboat from the dock. “I don’t know how far I’ll make it on one cup of coffee.”

Alex stepped into the airboat. “There might be a full thermos in my backpack, but you’re going to have to earn it.”

Holt pushed the boat from the dock and jumped in with a grin. “Well, why didn’t you say so?” He leaned over, preparing to kiss her.

Alex put one hand on his chest to stop him. “Not like that.”

“That used to be the way I earned things.”

“The price has increased. Inflation, you know?”

He raised one eyebrow. “I guess that’s what happens when things age.”

Before Alex could retort, he started the engine and climbed into the driver’s seat. Alex turned around and looked over the bow of the boat as Holt took off from the dock. She waved at a couple of fishermen as they made their way up the channel from the dock. At the end of the channel, where the fisherman turned left to the open waters of the lake, Holt turned right into the narrow bayous and inlets that led deeper into the swamp.

Holt slowed as they progressed through the tiny channels, the edges of the airboat sometimes scraping the bank on both sides. It was denser than Alex remembered. Moss clung to almost every branch of the cypress trees that created a canopy over the bayou. The deeper into the swamp they went, the more dim the light became until it seemed almost as if twilight had come, even though it wasn’t yet seven a.m.

The darkness seemed to set upon her like a wet blanket, weighing her down and making breathing more difficult. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, blowing it slowly out. She’d known that coming here again would affect her, but she’d underestimated by how much. She’d spent a lot of years in New Orleans concentrating on her education and then her practice. And even more years trying to put the swamps of Mystere Parish out of her mind. Apparently, it had been wasted time. It seemed that for every hundred yards they moved deeper into the swamp, she could feel her heartbeat kick up just a bit.

Alex glanced back at Holt and the grim look on his face didn’t help calm her at all. For more reasons than one, he probably regretted agreeing to do this. If he hadn’t known how absolutely bull-headed Sarah could be, Alex knew, he wouldn’t have agreed at all. But checking it out himself was preferable to forming a search party to look for Sarah, who would walk on hot coals to save her daughter.

Holt cut off the engine and Alex looked back at him. “Is something wrong?”

He pulled a cane pole from the bottom of the boat and began to push the boat down the channel. “We’re almost there. I didn’t figure I should announce our approach with a turbine, even though the sound has probably carried for miles.”