Authors: Jana DeLeon
Holt gave him a small smile. “How did you get so smart?”
“I had an older brother who knocked it into me.”
Max hung up the phone. “He’s going to make sure Portico hasn’t been transferred and see what’s required to get us an interview.”
“I wouldn’t put too much faith in Portico being helpful,” Tanner warned. “He clammed up during trial and refused to talk at all, even in his own defense.”
Holt nodded. “Assuming he’s part of something bigger, that’s to be expected. Maybe we can talk to the prosecutor and tell him what we’ve got. See if he can put some pressure on Portico from his end.”
Max slid back into his seat and grabbed a couple of cookies. “Well, since we’re finished with old business, let’s get back to new business. How’s the investigation going, Tanner?”
Tanner shook his head. “I’m worried that I’m not cut out for this.”
“Why do you say that?” Holt asked.
Tanner told them about the sightings of the creature, the attack on Josie, Vernon’s suspicious behavior and Josie’s precarious financial position.
“It seems there’s a whole lot of things going on,” Tanner finished, “but none of them make sense. It’s a bunch of moving pieces that don’t form a clear picture.”
Max nodded. “Police work was always like that. The hardest part about an investigation was sorting through all the crap to figure out what was relevant to the case. It was never clear-cut like they show on television.”
“Max is right,” Holt agreed. “You’re not experiencing anything outside the norm. I know it feels out of sorts. I felt the same way when I started investigating. The military was straightforward for me, like tracking was for you. Once you have to involve yourself personally with people, things get complicated fast.”
“It’s not just that...” Tanner paused, not having any idea how to say what he needed to say.
“It’s the swamp,” Max said quietly. “Things don’t feel right there.”
Tanner let out a breath of relief. “Yes. How did you... Do you...”
“We both feel it,” Holt said. “The swamps in Mystere Parish aren’t like anywhere else. Things happen here that can’t be explained.”
“When I was a kid,” Tanner said, “my mom always yelled at me for being fanciful. As I got older, I concocted all kinds of elaborate reasons for the things I saw. When I left, I convinced myself I’d imagined everything, but all the same, I never wanted to come back. That’s why I went to Baton Rouge to work. That and other reasons.”
“Are you having second thoughts about returning?” Holt asked.
Tanner nodded. “And thirds and fourths and one hundred eighty seconds.”
“We get it,” Max said. “I promise I’m not being glib. Both of us have had...experiences, let’s say, that were outside what we’d call normal.”
“When you were boys, maybe—” Tanner started.
“No,” Holt interrupted. “He means recently. We don’t talk about it much because people who haven’t experienced it tend to look strangely at you, but I promise you, there’s nothing you can tell us about the Mystere Parish swamps that we won’t believe, Alex and Colette, as well.”
Tanner felt as if a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders. If these men and their wives also thought things were amiss in the swamps, then he no longer doubted his instincts. He began to recount what had happened the day he’d seen the creature.
Holt nodded. “We never doubted Josie’s description of what she’d seen. The biggest part of what Alex does is assess potential clients for sanity and truth-telling and she thinks Josie is as sane as you and I.”
“I never doubted her, either,” Tanner said, “but I’ve been operating under the assumption that someone was trying to scare her.”
“Wearing a suit, you mean?” Max asked.
“Exactly.”
“It’s a sound idea,” Holt said. “What’s got you questioning yourself now?”
Tanner stood and paced over to the window to stare outside. Finally, he ran one hand through his hair and turned back to face his brothers. “It was tall—almost seven feet—and there was nothing it could have been standing on. I checked. It moved incredibly fast, and there is no way a man could have stayed underwater the length of the bayou without oxygen.”
“I suppose some of the height could be built into the suit,” Max suggested. “You know, like he’s really looking out of the mouth so that it appears taller than it is.”
Holt nodded. “That’s a good thought.”
“Maybe. I don’t know.” Tanner stepped back to his chair and sat down, staring at the rug.
“The swamp went silent right before I saw him,” Tanner said. “You know, how it does when a big predator is close by? Except even the insects were quiet. I’ve hunted killer bear and gators and all manner of wildcats, but I’ve never experienced something like that. Like the whole swamp was holding its breath.”
He looked up at his brothers, still half expecting them to be looking at him as if he were crazy, but instead, they both wore serious expressions.
“I don’t have an answer for you,” Holt said, “but I can tell you to trust your instincts. If things feel off, then they probably are. You know the swamps better than any of us. If you say something’s not right, then it’s not. It’s that simple.”
Max nodded.
Tanner looked back and forth between them. “You’re telling me that you actually think there’s a chance that a real monster lives in the Honey Island Swamp?”
Holt shrugged. “Things that none of us can explain exist all over this world. Why not a swamp monster?”
Tanner laughed. “I don’t know whether to be relieved that you don’t think I’m crazy or worried that all of us are.”
“Oh, well,” Max said, “it goes without saying that we’re all crazy. But that doesn’t mean we’re wrong.”
Holt rose from the chair and clapped Tanner on the shoulder. “You’re doing a fine job here. If you need anything, give me a call. I need to get back for an evening appointment.”
Max rose, as well, palming a few more cookies on his way out of the chair. “I’ll let you know as soon as I hear about Portico.”
“Thanks,” Tanner said, his mind flashing back to the reason for his brothers’ visit.
He walked them to the front door and lifted a hand to wave as they drove away, still trying to come to grips with the fact that his father’s murder might be solved over twenty years later...and by his own sons.
* * *
A
LEX
C
HAMBERLAIN HANDED
her husband a bottle of beer and slid down next to him on their living room couch. Holt grabbed the beer with one hand and slung his other arm around his wife.
“Can you believe this is the first chance we’ve had to talk since lunch?” she asked. “How did it go with Tanner today?”
“Great, actually,” Holt said, and filled Alex in on the information Tanner had provided. “It might come to nothing, but at least it’s another lead to pursue.”
“And how did Tanner take everything?”
Holt smiled at his psychiatrist wife. “Always the therapist, huh?”
“Tanner’s family. I tend to care about family.”
“I know. He seemed to take it all well. He was surprised, of course, but that’s hardly unexpected.”
“But?”
He shook his head. “There’s no getting anything past you, is there?”
Alex grinned. “No, and I don’t know why you even bother to try.”
“Tanner didn’t say anything that makes me think he’s having trouble with the situation, but I get the impression he’s working through some things.”
“Like Max was when he returned home?”
“Maybe.” Holt sighed. “Our father really screwed us up, didn’t he? At least I had Mom, who did everything she could to make up for my father’s shortcomings. Max’s mother was a far second to my mother, but Tanner’s mother made her look like a prize.”
“She was an alcoholic, right?”
“Yeah, I think so. I didn’t realize it when we were kids, but looking back as an adult, you see things for what they were. I think some of her boyfriends hit Tanner, too.”
“Oh, no!” The heartbreak in Alex’s expression was clear.
“He never would say, even when I asked, but no one’s that clumsy. Not even a child.”
Alex shook her head. “Make sure Tanner knows you’re there for him. If he’s still got unresolved issues over his childhood, he’s eventually going to need to talk to someone. Otherwise, they’ll continue to eat at him.”
“I know. But you can’t make a man talk to you, especially about emotional things. He knows I’m here. That’s a step in the right direction.”
Alex leaned over to kiss him. “You know I love you, right?”
“I love you, too.”
“So, are you even going to ask me why I was late tonight?”
Holt took one glance at the excited expression on Alex’s face and knew she was bursting to tell him something important.
“I’ll bite,” he said. “Why were you late?”
“I found the son of that attorney we were looking for in France.”
Holt straightened. “What about the attorney?”
“Died years ago, but the son was more than happy to talk to me about the case.”
“That’s surprising. You told him you think his dad helped broker the sale of kidnapped girls and he was happy to talk about it?”
“Apparently, his father spent the last decade of his life in prison for embezzling clients’ funds, so the son wasn’t interested in protecting his father’s reputation.”
“I guess that’s something to be thankful for. Was he able to tell you anything?”
“Yep. Because of the trial, all his father’s records had been audited. He said there were three adoptions recorded for that year. He’s going to get me the original files so that we can track down the families that bought the girls.”
Holt blew out a breath. The three elementary-aged girls had disappeared from Vodoun over thirty years ago. When Alex’s niece disappeared a couple of months ago, Holt and Alex had searched for her niece and in finding her, had discovered the fate of the girls who had disappeared over three decades before.
One of the promises they had made when they opened their detective agency was to try and find those girls, even though they’d be in their thirties today.
“You know,” Alex said, “the odds of them having been treated well are low. They were all six or older. Most likely they were acquired as domestic help.”
“You mean slaves.”
Alex sighed. “Yeah.”
“So, assuming we find them and they want to come home, they’ll need someone to talk to. I bet you’ve got that covered.”
“You know I’d do anything.... When I think about what happened to them and what their parents have gone through all these years not knowing, it’s just heartbreaking.”
Holt nodded. “I know it can’t fix things, but there’s money to be had in it. A civil suit against the estate might pave the way for them to start new lives in the U.S., if that’s something they’re interest in doing.”
“Sounds like you’ve got it all figured out.” Alex smiled. “I married such a smart man.”
“If only I could fix my own family.”
Alex placed her hand on Holt’s leg and gave it a squeeze. “Give Tanner some time. I know it’s hard for you to see him struggling and not jump in, but he’s a grown man. He won’t appreciate your butting in. You sorted it all out and so did Max. Tanner was always the more serious of you three. Likely, he needs to contemplate things a little longer than you.”
Holt squeezed his wife’s shoulders and took another sip of his beer. If anyone had told him a year ago that he’d be settled in his hometown, married to Alex, he would have called them crazy. But now he couldn’t imagine another life.
That same peace and sense of belonging was all he wanted for his little brother, because he knew it was something Tanner had never had before. More than ever, he hoped his wife was right.
Chapter Thirteen
Josie stood in the kitchen watching Tanner check his pistol, hands on her hips and trying to control her frustration. Tanner had been quieter than usual after his brothers had left. She wondered why but wasn’t about to ask.
“Why do you have to do the stakeout outside?” she asked. “Why can’t you watch from one of the upstairs windows?”
“Because the grounds are too dark. The storage shed near the barn provides the best view of the house and the barn. If someone approaches from the swamp, I’ll be able to see them.”
“What if what you see isn’t a man?”
“Doesn’t matter. If I see someone trespassing on your property, I’m taking them down—man or beast.”
“But it’s not safe out there in the dark.” Josie regretted the words as soon as they left her mouth. She knew it sounded foolish, but her attack was still too fresh in her mind for her to relax about Tanner lurking around outside in the middle of the night.
He stepped up to her and placed his hand on her arm. “This is nothing like last night.”
“Are you reading my mind?” she grumbled.
“After what happened last night, it’s not hard to imagine what you’re thinking. But this is different. This time, I’ll be ready for him. Ready and waiting.”
“I know it all makes sense logically, but I still don’t want you to do it.”
“It’s my job,” he said quietly. “I can’t sit in this house waiting for things to come to me. That’s putting you at bigger risk than preventing them from ever entering the house.”
She blew out a breath. “I’m not going to win this argument, am I?”
“Did you ever really think you would?”
“Fine, then I’m coming with you.”
He shook his head. “Absolutely not. You’re going to stay inside and rest, just like the doctor said.”
Josie held in the urge to scream. If she “rested” one minute longer, she was going to go stir-crazy. “So although you won’t have any view at all of the front or sides of the house, you think I’m safer inside, even though he’s already gotten in once.”
“All the windows are closed and locked. I did a thorough check earlier.”
“Sure, but what if the intruder stole keys last night? I have a whole drawer of them here in the kitchen. My dad kept more spares than a boat can haul—why, I have no idea—and it’s not like he went to great lengths to hide them.”
She pulled open a drawer in the kitchen island and pulled out an envelope clearly labeled “house keys.” She dumped the envelope on the counter, and six keys came tumbling out.