Not Quite Right (A Lowcountry Mystery) (Lowcountry Mysteries Book 6) (19 page)

It hasn’t escaped my attention that even if the Middletons are behind my missing cousin, the fault still rests cleanly on my shoulders. I’m the one who coerced Leo and Mel into helping us clear Millie’s name last month, and I’m the one who started digging into the Middletons’ past, trying to find dirt on them.

You did it to help Amelia. You had no choice.

The voice in my head doesn’t belong to a devil, for once, but to my beloved Grams. I don’t know whether or not to buy her explanation, but it gets me through another five minutes.

Crap on a cracker. I need ibuprofen like Justin Bieber needs a haircut.

Leo takes the bowl from in front of me, replacing it with a bottle of Advil like he’s somehow figured out how to read minds. I don’t question it, just down three and steal a slice of bacon from the plate.
 

He dumps the eggs in the skillet. “I saw that.”

“Yeah, well, put it on my tab.”

Despite everything, my stomach growls. I wonder when I ate last, only to come face-to-face with the memory of Amelia in this very kitchen, eating spaghetti with my father not twelve hours ago. I force back more tears. They aren’t doing anyone any good. They rarely do.

I check my phone and see that I missed a text from Jenna this morning, but nothing from Frank. Daria hasn’t responded, either, but it’s not even nine in the morning. She won’t be up and around for hours yet.

Have some info for you. Let’s have lunch.

Lunch. Yeah, like I have time for that.
 

I sent the original message before Amelia went missing. Or at least, before I realized she was missing. I’m no longer sure I want to know what happened to James and Charlotta, because it seems to me that digging too far into Mama Lottie’s private business has earned me nothing but a whole lot of trouble. I ignore the message for now, deciding to channel Scarlett O’Hara and worry about it later.

It does remind me that I’m supposed to be working today, though, and so is Millie. If Mr. Freedman hasn’t heard about what happened already, he’s going to expect one or both of us to open the doors in an hour or so. It’s Tuesday, too, which means there will be a gaggle of kids showing up for story time this afternoon.

“Shit.”

“What?” Leo sets a plate of eggs in front of me and a stack of toast in the middle of the table next to the bacon before taking a seat.

I wave him off, then snag a second piece of bacon. “Annoying life stuff.”

“You realize that’s what makes up ninety percent of our days, right?”

“Hush.” I dial and put the phone to my ear, praying that LeighAnn will forgive me for violating her Don’t Ever Call, Text rule.

“This better be good,” she grumbles by way of greeting. “Two of my kids are wearing strawberry jam and a third is putting holes in his bread. With his penis.”

“Um…” I give myself a shake in an attempt to dispel the mental picture. “I need you to cover story time at the library today.”

She groans, and a static sound comes over the line as if she’s muffling the phone. “I swear, if you use that spoon to spread jam on your sister’s hair you’ll be eating with your hands for a week.”

It’s like a horror show over there.

“Sorry.” Her voice is clear again. “I can, sure. What’s up? Anything I need to know?”

I pause, wondering how much to tell her. It’s not as though she’s not going to hear the gossip as soon as she steps out her front door today, if not before. But saying it aloud—
Amelia is missing
—makes everything that happened last night way too real.

As long as I don’t say it, it’s like she could come waltzing back in any minute. She could come down and demand that Leo make her a plate, too.

“No. We were planning to read the
Lady Pancake and Sir French Toast
one again. The kids love it.”

She laughs. “They do. My five-year-old has read it so many times the cover is gone, and I’m afraid the pages will be soon, too.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

Leo eyes me as we hang up.
 

“Two more calls, then I’m all yours. And Clete’s.”

He makes a face but doesn’t say anything. I wish he would—I need teasing and normalcy and regular Leo in the face of this day that is determined to be the opposite of normal.
 

This time, I’m not worried about disturbing Mr. Freedman. He might not show up to the library until after we open every day, but he’s awake at the crack of dawn. Either because that’s what old people do for fun or because his wife insists they spend quality time together before he leaves for work.

“Good morning, Miss Harper.”

I roll my eyes at his formality in an attempt to swallow the dread creeping up from my stomach. There will be no avoiding the truth with our boss. “Mr. Freedman. How are you?”

The question comes out without my permission and makes me cringe.
 

“I’m fine.” He stops at that and waits for me to come out with the reason for my call.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t come to work today, and Amelia won’t be there, either.” I take a breath and rush ahead before he can interrupt. “She’s missing. Since last night… We’ve been searching, but I need to be available to deal with the police and everything…” I trail off, because those are all the words my closing throat will allow through before they turn into more sobs.

“Oh my god.” Mr. Freedman pauses, probably to wrap his head around everything I just said. “Sure, of course. I’ll cover the front today and work on getting a volunteer until you’re able to come back.”

“I asked LeighAnn to cover story time today and she said she would, so don’t worry about that.”

“You didn’t have to do that. Take care of yourself. I know you’ll find your cousin. Meredith and I will be praying for your family.”

“Thank you.”

We hang up. I should feel relieved that all of the mundane necessities have been covered, but it leaves me nothing to focus on except Amelia. And my next phone call, which is to her parents.

My fingers shake as I dial, and my heart flutters when Aunt Karen answers. “Hello?”

“Hi.” I swallow. “Amelia is gone.”

Silence crackles through the line.
 

“Excuse me?” my aunt asks. “What does that mean, gone?”

“She’s missing. We searched last night and the police are going to get the feds and state involved first thing this morning. I’m sure they’ll be calling, but I wanted to tell you first.”

It takes all of my self-possession to answer her panicked questions in a calm voice, never mind keep my tears in my face. When she runs out of things to ask we fall silent again. She’s been too anxious to blame me, but it must be coming. I mean, I blame me.

We hang up, and now my stomach revolts at the thought of eating. But Leo went to the trouble and I know I need to eat to get through what’s coming. Clete would probably offer me squirrel or something if I get all woozy out in the woods, and heaven knows what Big Ern eats to stay so rotund.
 

I manage to choke down the eggs and half a piece of toast, along with another slice of bacon. Leo gets two cups of coffee ready in to-go mugs, and we head out to my car. I don’t look at Beau’s car in the driveway. For some reason, the fact that he’s not the one here with me hurts more in the weak sunlight than it had in the dead of night.
 

Silly. Beau can’t be involved with Clete or any of my semi-illegal dealings. He wouldn’t be the one at my side even if things were still amazing between us, but this morning, somehow, it’s a reminder that he’s not here. And there’s a reason for that—me.

“So we’ve got almost an hour to kill,” Leo says after we pull onto the highway that leads out of Heron Creek. “How about you tell me what went down with this Mama Lottie last night.”

I do, starting with the fact that I’d thought her finding out that her own genes were tangled with the Draytons’ would give her pause over the whole curse thing and how my plan had backfired.

I glance over as we pull off the highway, checking to see how he’s taking all of this, and see his lips pressed together so hard they’ve lost all color.
 

“She threw you into the door? Holy shit, Graciela. That’s serious.”

“Well yeah. Obviously I made a mistake.”

“Didn’t Daria and Frank, and who knows else, warn you not to mess with her?” Anger bleeds out of him, swirling into a cloud as it fills the car.

It seeps into me, igniting my blood. “What choice did I have, Leo? She’s the only person who can help us get rid of Anne Bonny’s curse. It’s killing Amelia, and it
will
get to the baby, too.”

He shakes his head as we sit at the bottom of the exit ramp. No one is behind us, which is good. I can feel a blowup building in my bones and, right or wrong, Leo’s pushing all of my buttons.

“Gracie, you already dealt with that. You gave the woman what she wanted, and she promised to help. Why did you feel the need to summon her to the house again? It was stupid.”

“
Stupid?
You think it was
stupid
to try to save a family from the same hell that’s been plaguing mine for centuries?”

“Yeah. If you care about Amelia as much as you say, it was.”
 

Guilt ravages me, tearing off chunks of my soul along the way. He’s confirming all of my worst fears about Amelia being gone because of me, and for what? For nothing. Mama Lottie doesn’t care about James and Charlotta’s son.

“I think you wanted to find a way to save everyone, but sometimes that’s not possible. You need to accept that!”

My rage and guilt recede into the background as I stare at Leo. He’s never yelled at me. Never even raised his voice, and for all of his upset over Beau’s involvement with Lindsay’s prison sentence, he never suggested that people aren’t worth at least
trying
to save. Now, his face is white, his hands clamped around his knees so hard no blood is getting through.

I don’t know what to say or do. Something is going on, something that has nothing to do with me or my own ridiculous, hopeless situation. My hand reaches out, trembling, and touches his shoulder. He jerks as though I’ve electrocuted him.

“Leo. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I’m worried about Amelia, that’s all.” He glances at me, moving as though his neck has a metal rod down its back instead of a spine. “And you. Gracie, my god. I am so worried about you.”

Hot tears prick my eyes. “You’re a good man, Leo. I know you don’t really think I’m stupid for trying to do the right thing, no matter how it turned out.”

He doesn’t answer. I move my hand to the back of his neck, thinking about all the strange oddities in his life that don’t add up. Could his overreaction to my trying to save the Draytons have anything to do with the mysteries running deep under Leo’s good-natured exterior?

There’s no way to ask, not right now. The connection between us feels too tenuous. Not thin or breakable, but definitely as though a misstep could make it twist in a way that would be hard to set right. Plus, he never talks about himself. Has never told me why Lindsay is the only person in his family that he speaks to or why he has such an aversion to full-time employment.
 

“We okay?” I ask after another couple of minutes. His breathing has returned to normal.

The glance he gives me is full of apology and shame. “Yes. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. We’re all under a lot of stress.”

I pull the car onto the first of a few winding back roads that will lead us to the gas station nearest Clete’s property. Once we get there, Leo and I both get out, taking a moment to pull on hats and gloves and stretch our legs, then start walking.

“You’re going to find her again, aren’t you? Mama Lottie.”
 

My shoulders tense at her name but Leo’s tone is even, conversational. Whatever happened in the car, he’s got it under control now.

“I don’t know. I mean…if she has Amelia, yes. If she doesn’t break the curse like she promised, yes.”

“How will you know about the second?”

The question reminds me that we didn’t find Odette, the one person I know can tell me if the curse is gone, the last time we were in Charleston. A brand-new concern tickles my gut. Too many people have gone missing when I need them the most lately. It could be another “coincidence” or something could have happened to her—something normal that happens to aging women who basically live on the street—or it could be more than that.

“We’ll have to find Odette.”

He pauses for a moment, sweeping some downed tree limbs out of the way. As always, the deeper we get into the woods, the more eyes I feel watching from the trees. No one gets within a mile of Clete’s place without him knowing about it, but—lucky me—he’s granted me safe passage. At least, he has in the past. I failed in my last deal with him, when I told him I’d find some dirt on Travis that would let the moonshiner run him out of town or cow him into being willing to look the other way when it came to Clete’s dealings. I have a feeling that the only thing that made that okay was that Clete hadn’t been able to find anything for us on the Middletons, either.

I cross my gloved fingers, hoping he’s not holding a grudge. I have no illusion that once I cease to be useful to him, the instructions he gave to Big Ern and the others—to let my friends and me pass unharmed—will be revoked faster than a mouse running from a house cat. And we’ll be the mice.

“The Gullah woman in Charleston?” Leo finally connects the name Odette to its owner.

“Yeah. She can see the curse over our heads or whatever.”

“Why can’t she help you get rid of it, again?”

I remind him about Odette as we cross the last half mile and pop into the clearing that’s home to Clete’s ramshackle abode. He takes the term
humble
to a new level, but I suppose it works for him. I suppose none of us need as much as we think we do to get by and be happy.
 

The thought has me casting a sidelong glance at Leo. Maybe that’s what he’s discovered and why he doesn’t feel the need to tie himself down. As long as he, Marcella, and Lindsay have what they need, that might be all that matters.