The Betrayed

He removed his glasses and rubbed them with a cleaning cloth on his desk, and Danae could tell he still felt her mother’s death. It made her both happy and sad that her mother was such a wonderful person she’d left such an impression, but then died without living her life to the fullest.

William slipped his glasses back on and cleared his throat. “It so happens that I need someone to go through the documents in the house. I haven’t been able to find anyone willing to do the work at the house, so I was going to have everything boxed up and shipped to an analyst in New Orleans. But if you’re willing to do the work, I’d be happy to pay you, instead of removing the documents.”

“What are you looking for?”

“Inventory lists, receipts—anything that gives me the ability to construct a list of property. I need to have it evaluated for tax purposes and such. So much is stuffed in the attic, closets and heaven only knows where else that it would take years to uncover it all. I hoped that the most valuable of objects would be contained on an asset listing or that the receipts would be filed with important household documents. Then I could valuate those items, assuming we locate them, and assign a base value to everything else.”

Danae could only imagine the mess that must be contained inside the massive old mansion. William definitely had his work cut out for him.

“I know you have your job at the café,” William continued, “so please don’t feel you have to accept my offer, but I wouldn’t feel right if I didn’t tell you the rate for the work is twenty-five dollars an hour.”

“Seriously?”

“It’s boring and dirty work, but requires concentration and attention to detail. The rate is standard for this sort of thing.”

Danae ran a mental budget through her head. The rate was considerably more than she made at the café, but once the job was over, what would she do? If she quit now, it would be unlikely that she could get the job back. The waitress she’d replaced six months ago had moved off to New Orleans with her boyfriend, but that relationship had ended and she was back in Calais and hoping for her old job back.

“I anticipate the work will take several months,” William said and Danae wondered if he could read her mind. “And during your two-week inheritance stint, you won’t be required to pay rent. The estate can hardly charge you for meeting the terms of the will, but the remainder of the lease has to stay in effect.”

In several months, she could easily save enough money to cover herself for more than a year. She had no debt and knew how to live on next to nothing. And maybe, if the job lasted long enough, she’d make enough to invest in the future she really wanted—to become a chef. Twenty-five an hour would go a good ways toward paying for culinary school in New Orleans.

“I think I’ll take that job,” she said.

William beamed. “Good. I’ll have my secretary draw up the paperwork.”

“Great,” she said, hoping she wasn’t making a mistake.

“You know, I haven’t located Joelle yet, but I have a solid lead and expect to find your sister before month’s end. I have no doubt I can convince her to take part in the inheritance requirements.”

Danae shook her head. “What if she’s got a family, a job...things she can’t just up and leave?”

“Yes, all those things matter, but the reality is, with you and Alaina meeting the requirements, Joelle has no risk. Taking those two weeks out of her life will leave all three of you so wealthy that you’ll never have to work again unless you choose to.”

Danae sucked in a breath. “I didn’t... I had no idea.”

“Why would you? The estate looks like it needs a bulldozer rather than a cleaning, but the reality is your mother was an incredibly wealthy woman, and even your stepfather couldn’t manage to put a dent in her accumulated fortune.”

“So once Joelle finishes her two weeks, I...”

“Have the entire world at your fingertips. Whatever you desire for a future, you’ll have the means to pursue it.” He smiled. “Unless, of course, serving coffee and incredible pie to aging attorneys and disgruntled sheriffs is where your dreams lie.”

She laughed. “You make it sound so tempting.”

“Yes, well, as much as I’d love to see that beautiful smile at Johnny’s Café, I prefer for you to have what you want most. It may take a while,” he warned, “to locate Joelle, finish up her term and then push the entire mess through Louisiana’s often frustrating legal system. But it shouldn’t take more than eighteen months, even if Joelle doesn’t fulfill her time right until the end of the year allotted.”

“Eighteen months,” Danae repeated, trying to wrap her mind around everything the attorney had told her. She’d settled in Calais hoping to find out something about her past, with the ultimate dream of locating her sisters. Her mother’s will had come as a huge surprise to her and everyone else in Calais, but the knowledge that her mother’s fortune remained intact astounded her.

Even in her wildest dreams—even after hearing about her mother’s will—she’d never imagined much would come of it. Rather, she’d thought they would inherit a run-down monstrosity of a house that would be fraught with issues and impossible to sell. But this...this was something out of a fairy tale.

William opened his desk drawer and pulled out a huge black key. “This is the key to the front door,” he said as he pushed it across the desk to her. “It’s an old locking system, but it’s well-oiled. You shouldn’t have any problems with access.”

She picked up the key, feeling the weight of the old iron in her hand, and thought about everything that single object represented. It was quite literally going to unlock the rest of her life.

“There is one other thing,” William said.

A sliver of uncertainty ran through her at the apprehension she detected in the attorney’s voice. “Yes?”

“I’m sure you heard that Amos broke his foot and will be staying with his niece here in town.”

Danae nodded. Amos was the estate’s caretaker and no less than eighty years old, hence the general run-down state of the house and grounds. Her stepfather had refused to hire additional help, and the aging caretaker had been unable to maintain it all himself.

“I’d mentioned before that I’ve hired a contractor to address the problems at the house,” William continued. “He will arrive today and will stay in Amos’s cabin. His name is Zach Sargent. He’ll need daily access to the house, but I’m going to leave it up to you whether or not you provide him with a key, as you’ll also be working inside. If you’re uncomfortable with anyone else besides myself, Alaina and the sheriff having free access, I can arrange for someone to let him in daily.”

Her gut clenched a little at the thought of a strange man who could enter the house at any time. “Actually, I can let him in and out myself,” she said. “I’m an early riser and plan on spending full-time hours working on the files.”

William nodded and pulled another key from his drawer. “This is a key to the caretaker’s cabin,” he said as he pushed it across the desk to her. “I had it stocked with basic supplies yesterday, and I’ve already made arrangements with the general store for any supplies or tools he needs.”

“Great.” At least she didn’t have to manage the supplies end of things.

“The road—not much more than a path, really—to the caretaker’s cabin is at the north end of the main house’s driveway. The path leads straight to the cabin, so there’s no chance of his getting lost. Just point him in the right direction. I’m sure he can take it from there.”

Danae nodded. “You said he’ll arrive today?”

“Probably later this afternoon.”

“That’s good,” she said as she rose, the note she’d found on her doorstep weighing heavily on her. But despite her genuine fondness for the attorney, something prevented her from mentioning the incident to him.

“I better run,” she said, before she changed her mind and blurted out everything about the note. “I need to square things away with Johnny at the café. How do I handle the work for you?”

William rose from his chair. “Start going through the paperwork—your stepfather’s office is the logical choice to begin. Put everything you think relevant for my purposes in a box and keep a log of your time. I’ll check in periodically and we’ll cut you a check every Friday, if that is all right by you. Don’t worry about the hours. The estate is happy to pay for whatever you’re willing to work.”

“That’s great.” She extended her hand and clasped his. “Thank you...for everything.”

William gave her hand a squeeze. “It’s been my pleasure.”

She smiled and walked out of his office, giving Secretary Grim a nod on her way through the lobby. After she’d slid into her car, she clenched the steering wheel with both hands, trying to process everything that had happened that morning, but her whirling mind couldn’t put it all into neat little boxes.

She’d almost slipped up in there—almost broken down and given William and Alaina more information than she would have normally. It was so unexpected for her to feel that comfortable with other people that she was surprised at herself. Granted, her sister and William seemed to be perfectly nice and straightforward, but her natural distrust of everyone had saved her more times than she could recall. Now was not the time to abandon a way of life that had worked well for her. At least, not until she knew more about Alaina and William.

She blew out a breath and backed her car out of the parking space. It didn’t matter that she hadn’t told William about the note she’d found that morning. Someone had made a lucky guess and hoped to scare her away or create drama for her. Now that she’d announced herself and stolen their thunder, likely, they’d go away.

At least, that was what she was going to keep telling herself.

Chapter Three

It was almost three o’clock when Zach Sargent pulled into the tiny bayou town of Calais. He shook his head, still not believing his luck. Landing the repair job at the LeBeau estate was an opportunity he’d never even imagined existed, much less that he’d be the one to snag it.

Granted, most men would choose higher-paying construction jobs near the New Orleans nightlife before they’d sequester themselves deep in the swamps of Mystere Parish, but Zach wasn’t most men. Far more was at stake than a paycheck and a good time.

Somewhere inside the crumbling walls of the LeBeau estate, he hoped to find the answers to the questions his dad had left him with. Zach knew it was possible that his dad’s words had only been the ramblings of a man drugged up and near death, but something in his dad’s voice troubled him to the point that he needed to find answers.

He’d thought the words would fade after his burial, but they haunted Zach in his dreams and nagged at him while he was awake. Finally, he’d given up fighting it and started a thorough search of his dad’s records from the time his dad had spoken of. It had only taken a couple of days to come across the entry in his checkbook that had made Zach’s breath catch in his throat. A twenty-thousand-dollar deposit with no explanation noted.

What had his dad done?

What had he regretted so much that he’d laid on his son a garbled confession of some wrongdoing?

Zach had spent many hours since discovering the unexplained deposit trying to imagine what his dad’s secret could be. His father had been an honorable man, a good man, raising Zach alone after his mother passed when he was only eight. Zach simply couldn’t wrap his mind around his dad doing something so horrible that he felt he had to make it right before he died.

If only he’d spoken to Zach before that last stroke, before his speech was so impaired and before he was so drugged that he couldn’t maintain a semblance of coherence. But all of that was wishful thinking and a waste of time.

His dad had said only one name during his ramblings—Ophelia LeBeau.

Somewhere in that house were the answers Zach sought. He had to believe that. It was the only thing that allowed him to sleep at night. And now he had the opportunity to find out for himself.

When he reached the second crossroads outside of Calais, he checked the map the estate attorney had provided and turned to the right. His truck bumped on the sad excuse for a road, and the farther he drove, the denser the trees and foliage became. If he hadn’t known it was only noon, he’d have thought it was dusk. The faintest streams of sunlight managed to peek through the top layers of the cypress trees, but by the time that light penetrated the thick moss clinging to the tree branches, it was filtered to only a dim glow.

If he’d tried, he couldn’t have come farther from his Bourbon Street flat than this expanse of seemingly never-ending swamp. He’d expected remote, but he hadn’t expected to feel so enclosed, so claustrophobic. After all, he lived in an eight-hundred-square-foot flat. Miles of dirt and water should make him feel less confined, not more so.

He shook his head, clearing his mind of fanciful thoughts that had no place there, and ran through his plan once he’d gained access to the house and the records. With any luck, everything would be well organized and he’d find his answer quickly. Honor and loyalty would force him to complete the work needed on the house, even if he got his answer the first day, but the work would be easier and go more quickly without the distraction of the unanswered question hanging over his head.

His truck dipped into a large pothole and he cursed as he gripped the steering wheel more firmly, trying to maintain control of the vehicle as it lurched sideways. If he had to replace anything in the house that was breakable, he’d have to creep down this road to keep from destroying things before he even got them there.

Finally, when he thought he’d driven straight across the United States to Canada, he turned a final corner, and the house loomed before him. Involuntarily, he lifted his foot from the gas, and the truck rolled almost to a stop as he stared at the imposing structure.

The architect in him formed an immediate appreciation for the bold lines and refined features of the mansion. The part of him dedicated to B horror movies was certain he’d driven straight into a midnight feature.

It was horrifying and seductive, all at the same time.

He inched the truck around the decrepit stone driveway and parked behind an ancient sedan. The attorney’s car, he thought as he exited the truck and made his way to the massive double doors. He scanned the door frame for a bell, but didn’t see anything resembling such a device, so he rapped on the solid wood door.

Seconds later, the door flew open and he found himself staring at someone who clearly was not the aging male attorney he’d spoken to on the phone.

The girl in front of him was small but toned, with short black hair and amber eyes that were narrowed on him. It took him a couple of seconds to realize that despite her youthful appearance, she was more woman than girl, and a bit of relief coursed through him because the male part of him had been instantly appreciative of her trim body and chiseled facial features.

The woman’s shrewd eyes looked him up and down and glanced at his vehicle, quickly making an assessment, but when he expected her to speak, she just stared directly at him, her eyes locked on his, unwavering.

“I’m Zach Sargent,” he said finally, extending his hand. “I’m the contractor William Duhon hired to make the repairs to the house.”

The woman hesitated a second before briefly clasping his hand, then releasing it. “I’m Danae LeBeau,” she said.

Zach felt his pulse quicken. Could this woman be Ophelia LeBeau’s daughter? William had mentioned that one of the heiresses had been living in the house, but the name Danae didn’t ring any bells.

She stepped back and opened the door for him to enter. “I have the key to the caretaker’s cottage in the kitchen.”

Zach stepped inside and did a double take at the gloomy interior, layered with dust and sadly lacking in basic maintenance and care. The attorney had said the property needed a lot of work, but Zach thought it had been occupied until recently. He was somewhat shocked that a person would choose to live like this.

“You coming?” Danae asked, her eyebrows arched.

Before he could reply, she continued down a wide hallway to the left of the entry. He blew out a breath and followed her down the hall, then drew up short in the kitchen. The room was a refreshing change from the entry. Stone countertops and floors gleamed, the cabinets and dining table were polished to a high sheen and a new coat of paint covered the walls.

“Is something wrong?”

“What...? No,” he replied, realizing he’d been casing the room like an eager real-estate agent or petty thief. “Sorry, I was just taking in the contrast between this room and the entry.”

Danae nodded. “My sister started cleaning and remodeling here a couple of weeks ago, but hasn’t had time to get much more done.”

Zach frowned. “I don’t understand. William said the house had been occupied until recently.”

“By our stepfather. My sisters and I haven’t been allowed to set foot here since we were sent away as children...when our mother died.”

Her jaw flexed when she delivered that information, and some of the bitter edge the heiress displayed began to make sense. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up a sensitive subject.”

“You’re not the first. Won’t be the last.” She pulled a key out of her purse and placed it on the end of the counter. “That’s the key to the caretaker’s cabin. The path to the cabin is at the north end of the main driveway. William had it stocked with basic living supplies, but he has you set up with the general store to handle anything beyond that.”

He nodded. “Great. And what about a key to the main house?”

She stiffened and shook her head. “The house isn’t habitable in the shape it’s in, but I’m going to be working here, as well. I’ll let you in every morning and lock up at night.”

Zach struggled to maintain his aggravation, but knew if he made a big deal out of having free access to the house, she may start to wonder. Still, being under constant scrutiny wasn’t going to get him what he’d come for. He had to find an angle that worked.

“Are you sure?” he asked, trying to sound casual. “I prefer to start early.”

She’d been gazing out the back window, but when he delivered his last sentence, she looked directly at him—pinned him with those dark eyes—and he got the impression she wasn’t buying what he’d said. Not completely.

“I’ve worked in cafés and bars for years. I’m used to getting up early and finishing up late, and as I have no other personal business in this town except the estate, your work won’t interfere with my schedule.”

“Okay, then. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow morning at seven. If that’s all right?”

“No problem at all.”

“Have a good evening,” he said and started down the hall to the front entry. Zach knew when he’d lost the battle. As much as he didn’t need the interference, he’d have to play things Danae’s way.

At least until he could find a way around her.

Chapter Four

Danae peered out a tiny crack in the front door, watching Zach drive away. He hadn’t been at all what she’d expected when William had told her he’d hired a contractor. She’d thought someone older, someone not as adept at repair as they used to be, would be the only person interested in a job out in the middle of the swamp. The young, gorgeous man who’d just left was the absolute last person she’d thought would be interested in a job in a town like Calais.

With his light brown hair, piercing green eyes and stellar body, Zach belonged in the heart of New Orleans, charming all the ladies who came downtown looking for a good time. He certainly didn’t fit Calais and the LeBeau estate.

Frowning, she pushed the heavy wooden door shut, unable to shake the feeling that something about the sexy contractor didn’t add up. Briefly, it crossed her mind that he was running from something, but she dismissed the thought as soon as it came. He didn’t have that look of flight, and she knew that look well. She’d worn it several times herself and seen it in many others.

Finally, she sighed. Likely, it was something simple and embarrassing. If bartending had taught her anything, it was that most people had some secret that they kept locked away from others. The secret wasn’t often earth-shattering, but simply something the person felt would change others’ opinions of them. Maybe Zach had such a secret—like a gambling or drinking problem. Something that had given him a bad reputation with construction companies in New Orleans.

She shook her head to clear her thoughts of Zach and the many different things he could be hiding and tried to focus on what she wanted to tackle next. She’d arrived at the house only twenty minutes before noon, and aside from talking to Zach, she’d spent the rest of the time doing a run-through of the downstairs rooms, checking windows and exterior doors to ensure no unwanted guests could enter.

By the time she had finished her review of the downstairs, she expected Zach to arrive at any moment and had been unwilling to start poking around upstairs. She preferred instead to get her meeting with the contractor out of the way and delve more into her past when she was alone again with the memories that she couldn’t seem to access.

She had just decided to head upstairs and get a feel for the rooms there when her cell phone rang. She checked the display and frowned. It wasn’t a number she recognized, but it definitely wasn’t in Louisiana.

She answered and was happy to hear Alaina’s voice.

“I’m so sorry,” Alaina said. “I meant to call earlier, but I didn’t charge my cell before leaving, so it’s dead as a doornail. This is the first opportunity I’ve had to break away from the family and call you. I hope you didn’t think I’d forgotten.”

“No, of course not. How is your...er, mother?”

Even though she didn’t really know Alaina at all, it still felt strange calling another woman her sister’s mother. She wondered how it felt for Alaina.

“She’s doing fine, considering. My brother has a service lined up for home care until she can get around again, but they are on another job at the moment and not expected to free up for another week at least.”

A twinge of something—sadness...jealousy—passed through Danae when Alaina said my brother but she pushed it aside. Their stepfather hadn’t given any of the girls a choice when he’d sent them away. Alaina couldn’t help it if she’d gotten a decent family, while Danae had gotten an addict. That was simply the luck of the draw.

“I’m glad she’s okay,” Danae said.

“Me, too, but the timing couldn’t be worse. I’m so sorry I had to dash out this morning like I did. I have a million things to talk to you about. If I started now, I probably couldn’t finish by next year.”

Danae smiled. “I know.”

“But first things first—I am so glad you don’t have to stay in that house. When I thought about you staying there, my chest hurt so bad I felt like it was in a vise.”

“I’m at the house now. It’s not exactly a welcoming sort of place.”

“No, but it’s more than that. It’s...I don’t know... Oh, I’ll just say it. I think there’s something wrong in that house. I know you don’t really know me, but I promise you, I’m not a fanciful sort of person. And given my profession, my senses are better honed than many. I know something’s off. I can feel it in every inch of my body.”

Danae tensed at her sister’s description. It was the same way she’d felt since she’d walked into the house.

Alaina sighed. “I bet I sound like a crazy woman.”

“I almost wish you did, but you’re not crazy. I feel it, too. And let’s just say my survival skills are as finely tuned as your ability to recognize when things don’t add up. They’re firing on all eight cylinders here. But I have no idea why.”