Читать книгу The Reckoning - Jana DeLeon - Страница 9

Holt Chamberlain pulled away from Sarah’s house, a million thoughts running through his head. All but one had to do with Alexandria Bastin. He’d known Alex was on her way to Vodoun when he went to Sarah’s house, and he thought he’d mentally prepared himself for seeing her again. Now that he had, he realized how egotistical he’d been to think he was prepared.

Like holding up a trash can lid to stave off a tidal wave.

Ten years hadn’t taken a single thing away from her. Her face was more mature than the college girl he’d left behind, but still as beautiful as he remembered. Her thick blond hair, a gift from her German mother, had been pulled up on top of her head, but he had no doubt that when released, it would fall in thick waves down her shoulders. And even in her official hospital business suit, he could see her body wasn’t missing a trick. She was walking sexy and still as sharp as they came.

He’d been prepared for his body to react, for his heart to tug a bit when he laid eyes on his first love. But what he’d experienced was a total annihilation of senses. There was no preparation for that, short of death.

All that running and he’d landed back in Vodoun right smack in the middle of the same turmoil he’d been in when he’d made the decision to leave. Time and distance hadn’t changed anything except allowing him to temporarily forget.

And all of that took a backseat to the one thing that had nothing to do with his past with Alex—Sarah’s missing daughter. He couldn’t argue with the logic. Everything he’d found backed up his uncle’s idea that Bobby had kidnapped his daughter and fled to Brazil, but something didn’t feel right to Holt.

Things in Mystere Parish never did.

Something about the stretch of dense swamp that comprised most of the parish was unlike anywhere he’d ever been before, and he’d seen plenty of conflicted places during his military service. Not that Mystere was conflicted. In fact, it appeared to be comprised of small, peaceful towns filled with down-to-earth, law-abiding people. But under that surface of pleasant normalcy, Mystere hid secrets. Some of those secrets eventually rose to the surface.

It was the ones that hadn’t yet that concerned Holt.

Hoping his uncle was right for a change, Holt decided to take another look at Bobby and directed his truck toward the fourplex where Bobby had lived. Bobby taking Erica was the simple answer—the good answer. Holt didn’t want to think about the options until he’d eliminated the most obvious and the safest for the child.

The deputy had taken statements from the people occupying the two front units this afternoon, but the woman who lived directly across from Bobby in the other rear unit hadn’t been home. Maybe she was available now and could fill in some of the gaps.

He was about to pull up in back of the fourplex when his cell phone rang. He checked the display and frowned. His uncle.

Holt’s grandfather had married Lorraine after the death of his first wife, Holt’s paternal grandmother. After several miscarriages, Jasper Conroy had been a surprise baby for Lorraine. He was only two years older than Holt, but he wore the “Uncle” title as proudly as he did his sheriff’s badge. The man’s body might be restricted to bed rest, but it hadn’t stopped his mouth from traveling far and often.

“Uncle Conroy, what can I do for you?”

“Why aren’t you back at the sheriff’s office?”

“I’ve been looking into the Rhonaldo case.”

“There is no Rhonaldo case. Bobby Rhonaldo took that kid from that screaming shrew of a wife and skipped the country. Since we don’t have the time, the manpower or the jurisdiction to chase him to South America, I expect you to be back in the office in ten minutes.”

“To do what, exactly?”

“Whatever I say you need to do. Don’t get belligerent with me, boy. I’m still in charge.”

Holt struggled to control his tongue. His mother had asked this favor of him so that Jasper could continue to draw his salary and not worry about someone poaching his job. Holt figured it was a heck of a lot of aggravation to take for a favor, but he supposed it was a nice thing to do.

Thanks to the business acumen of his late and mostly absentee father, Holt had enough money to last a lifetime, so working for free didn’t bother him at all. But a little consideration wouldn’t be out of line, since Jasper was the only one benefiting from Holt’s time.

“I figured I needed to be thorough on this one, given your history with Sarah,” Holt said. “I wouldn’t want anyone to find a gap in my investigation and use that against you in the next election. If this ends badly, the last thing you need is people saying that if you’d done your job, you could have prevented the death of a six-year-old girl.”

There was dead silence for several seconds and Holt knew his uncle recognized the legitimacy of his words and at the same time was mentally cursing nine ways to Sunday that he had to spend even a moment of time on Sarah Rhonaldo. His mother’s complete and utter disdain for Sarah went far deeper than a long-standing family feud, but Holt had never been able to determine the real cause of the animosity. It was the best-kept secret in Vodoun.

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.