Читать книгу The Reckoning - Jana DeLeon - Страница 10

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.