“When she finished covering the grave, she dropped a rock with a piece of string tied around it down the reed. Then she tied a bell to the other end of the string and attached it to the top of the reed. I wanted to run but I knew she’d hear us if we made a run for it. We crouched there, not moving, barely breathing and prayed that she went back inside the cabin so we could get away.”
“That is a situation most adults couldn’t have handled. I can’t imagine how you and Sarah managed....”
“I guess we had a guardian angel watching over us. I thought once she finished the grave, she’d leave, but instead, she sat on an old stump next to the grave. She was waiting for something. I could feel it.”
Alex looked Holt directly in the eyes. “And then the bell started to ring.”
Holt’s eyes widened. “Maybe the wind—”
“There wasn’t a breath of air, and besides, I could see the string moving down the reed…tight, like it was being pulled.
“Mathilde started removing the dirt from the grave, and pulled the top off the coffin.” Alex rose from the couch and paced once across the living room and came back to stand in front of Holt.
“Then she helped the dead person climb out of the grave.”
Holt jumped up off the couch and stared at her. “No way!”
“I swear on everything that’s holy, an old woman climbed out of that grave, clutching that creepy doll.”
“But that’s impossible.”
“You think I don’t know that? Why do you think I’ve never told anyone what we saw? I’m a psychiatrist. People didn’t believe you when you claimed to see a very real human leaving your house after your father’s murder. What in the world would people think if I spread that story around?”
He sighed. “They’d think you were crazy.”
“Exactly, and that’s a chance I’m just not going to take. I know what I saw. Yes, I was scared half to death, but it was broad daylight and I had a clear, reasonably close view. That woman came back from the dead.”
Holt ran one hand through his hair and flopped back down on the couch. “I don’t even know what to say. That’s the most outlandish thing I’ve ever heard.”
Alex bit her lower lip and sat beside him. “But you believe me?”
He looked her straight in the eye. “Of course I believe you.”
“But you think there has to be a logical explanation.”
“Don’t you?”
She blew out a breath and stared at the wall for a minute. “I used to think so, and I wanted one.”
“But you don’t now?”
“I don’t know.” She looked back at Holt. “What if Mathilde does have some sort of power that can’t be explained by science? Then maybe tomorrow night, during the full moon, she can find Erika.”
Holt studied her for a couple of seconds, and she could tell he wanted to discount her suggestion, to tell her she was grasping at straws, but empathy must have won out because instead he wrapped his arms around her and held her close.
“If you want to let her try,” he said, “I’ll make it happen.”
* * *
T
HE KILLER SLID BEHIND
the hedges, looking down the street at Sarah’s house. Every blind was drawn, but he knew they were in there, wondering when he would strike next. He looked at the unmarked trooper parked across the street. Did they really think he was so foolish that he didn’t recognize a cop when he saw one?
He hadn’t managed all these years to fly below law enforcement radar by being a fool. And now, he was poised to spend the rest of his life in the comfort he deserved.
And for that, he’d do anything required.
His boss was getting anxious and so was he. The fake sheriff and nosy broad had come too close for comfort, and he was going to have to eliminate that threat, as well. He just needed a way to cast the blame on someone else.
Once the old woman was back on the island, he’d be able to set everything in motion.
* * *
A
LEX POURED TWO CUPS
of coffee and carried them to the breakfast table where Sarah sat. Holt had left for New Orleans intending to check on his truck and then pick up Mathilde to bring her back to Vodoun. After he had her review her statement and look at some pictures at the sheriff’s station, they were going to take her back to the island. Holt wanted to search for any evidence that might tell them more about Bobby’s murder or Erika’s location, and then they’d wait for the sun to go down and the full moon to rise so that Mathilde could do a reading.
Sarah poured sugar into her coffee and stirred as Alex took a seat across from her. “You’re letting me drink coffee?”
“At this point, a little caffeine is the least of our problems.”
“This is all so surreal,” Sarah said. “If you’d told me before today that all this would be happening to me, I’d say you were crazy.”
“It’s all quite unbelievable, but unfortunately, all very real.”
Sarah sniffed and rubbed her nose with her finger. Her eyes were still puffy and red from crying, and the circles underneath grew darker with each day that passed. “I still can’t believe Bobby’s gone, you know? I know I filed for divorce, but I think I always hoped he’d get his head on straight and we could work things out.”
Alex reached across the table and squeezed Sarah’s hand. “I know. I always hoped so, too.”
“I just don’t understand what’s happening.”
“Neither do I, but we’re going to figure it all out. I promise.”
Sarah stared at her for a moment, then nodded. “I know you will. I believe in you…and Holt.” She opened her mouth to speak again then hesitated.
Finally, she said, “Do you really think the witch woman can use magic to determine where Erika is?”
Alex didn’t have any idea what she thought at this point, but the hopeful sound in Sarah’s voice tugged so hard at her heart that she couldn’t bring herself to tell her cousin that it might all be a big waste of time. “I hope so,” she said finally.
“What we saw when we were kids…that was real, right?”
“It was real. I can’t say it was magic or voodoo, but what we saw did happen. That much I’m sure of.”
Sarah nodded. “How are you and Holt getting along?”
“Fine. I mean, he’s still as hard-headed and closed off as before, but he’s doing everything he can to find Erika. He’s a good investigator.”
“You still love him.”
Alex sat her cup of coffee down and stared at her cousin. “Certainly, seeing him again and working so closely with him has brought back memories, but I don’t…” Even though the words were right there, in her mind and on the tip of her tongue, she couldn’t bring herself to say them.
“Love him?” Sarah gave her a sympathetic look. “You can keep telling
yourself
that, but you made a promise a long time ago to never lie to me.”
Alex sighed. “Yes, I love him. I knew the moment I saw him standing in your house that I’d never stopped. But what difference does that make? Holt’s changed in a lot of ways, but not in the ones that make for a good relationship.”
“Maybe he just needs more time.”
“He’s had ten years. If he doesn’t know what he wants by now, then he’s a really poor bet for me. If it wasn’t for Erika’s kidnapping, I wouldn’t even have known he was in Vodoun. That tells me all I need to know.”
“Oh, honey.” Sarah sighed. “You two are the most stubborn people I know. Almost as bad as me. Promise me that you won’t let pride get in the way if it’s possible for you and Holt to have a future.”
“Pride? I gave up on pride ten years ago when I begged him not to leave. This isn’t pride. It’s survival.”
* * *
H
OLT PARKED IN FRONT
of the sheriff’s department, and went to open the car door for Mathilde. The old woman frowned as he pulled her door open and waved him away when he extended his hand.
“I’m not that injured or that old,” she said. “Let’s get this over with. I want to get back to my island. I’m not right when I’m not on my land.”
Holt wasn’t sure Mathilde was “right” when she was on her land, either, but it didn’t seem like the sort of assessment he should share with her, especially as she’d been complaining all the way from New Orleans to Vodoun about being “held hostage” for so long by the hospital. His conversation with his uncle that morning on the way to New Orleans had been equally as pleasant.
Despite his uncle’s shock and discomfort at Bobby’s death, he didn’t think it was a good use of “department resources” to play taxi driver, especially when Jasper was still holding on to the idea that Mathilde was the perpetrator. He was equally resistant to the idea that anything more could be found by searching the island. Holt could only imagine what sort of outrage he’d have experienced if he’d told the man Alex’s plan for using voodoo to locate Erika.
He pushed all that out of his mind and held open the front door of the sheriff’s department for Mathilde to enter. She glared at him as she walked past.
“Did you find out who that leg belonged to with all that fancy machinery used these days?”
“Yes. It belonged to the missing girl’s father.”
Mathilde frowned. “That’s not good.”
“No. It’s not, and it’s why we need to move fast and why I’m willing to try anything at this point to find Erika.”
Holt pointed her to a chair in front of his desk and handed her a picture of the dead man from the alley that he’d taken in the hospital morgue. “Have you ever seen this man before?”
Mathilde studied the picture for a couple of seconds, then shook her head. “Is he the man who took the girl?”
“We think so, and we think he’s the man who killed her father and dumped the body.”
“He’s dead?”
“Yes, but he wasn’t working alone. Someone else was giving the order. That man shot this one and got away, but I overheard them talking about dumping the body.” Holt pulled out a photo of Martin Rommel. “What about this man?”
Mathilde gave him a disgusted look. “I seen him last time I came to Vodoun for supplies. Catting around with that fancy blond bitch. Young enough to be her son, but she don’t act like a mother toward him. It’s indecent, is what it is.”
“Have you seen him anywhere near the island?”
“I ain’t seem him or the bitch, or I’d shoot them both. She’s the one that sent the police after me the first time, with all her tales of the evil witch in the swamp. Made a lot of trouble for me for a lot of years. I got nothing for her or her man.”
Disappointed, Holt placed the pictures back on the desk and handed her the statement he’d typed up based on the recording he’d made in the hospital. Mathilde looked at the papers, but didn’t make a move to take them. Then it hit him.
“You can’t read,” he said.
“Ain’t no one in my family ever needed to. I ain’t no different.”
“I’ll just read it to you, then.”
Mathilde’s eyes narrowed. “How do I know you won’t lie about what’s on there?”
“Why would I do that?”
“To get me to sign something saying I took that girl and fed her daddy to the gator.”
“Ms. Tregre, I don’t think you took the girl, and I don’t think you took those girls years ago. I don’t know what’s going on in this town, but I’m going to find out.”
Mathilde stared at him, studying his face. He must have passed her test, because finally she nodded. “Read your report, then. Daylight’s a-wasting.”
* * *
T
HREE HOURS LATER
, Holt, Mathilde and Alex docked on the island. Alex exited the boat and offered her hand to Mathilde, but the old woman waved her away and climbed out of the boat, knee-deep in water, then sloshed through the murky water and climbed onto the bank.
Alex looked over at Holt, who shrugged. She’d already sensed that Holt’s morning with Mathilde hadn’t been overly pleasant, and clearly the crotchety old woman was well beyond her limits of dealing with people. She hoped Mathilde was physically able to conduct a search of the island with them.
They’d left Vodoun from Holt’s cabin rather than the dock, trying to ensure they weren’t followed to the island. Holt had put a tail on Rommel that morning, just in case the man was involved, but he’d left Lorraine’s house that morning, gone straight to the restaurant and was still there when they left Holt’s cabin. With no fear of a tail, they’d taken off from Holt’s cabin and used the tiny, rarely used channels to access the island, reducing the chance of being seen by fishermen.
As Alex turned to follow Mathilde up the bank, she hit a doll on one of the old posts from the dilapidated dock and it fell in the water.
“Oh!” Alex reached down for the doll, then froze. It was the same doll. The doll that Erika had. The doll that she and Sarah had seen that day.
Mathilde stopped and turned to see what had made her cry out. The old woman studied her for a moment, then walked over and retrieved the doll from the bayou.
“Do the dolls bother you?” Mathilde asked.
“Yes,” Alex replied, seeing no reason to lie. “I find them macabre.”
Mathilde nodded. “I figure most people do, but then it keeps people away, so there’s that.”
“Did you put them all here? And if so, why?”
“My mama started it. Started it with this doll. She bought two of ’em. One was mine. One was my twin sister’s. Mama traded herbs in town to get them for our birthday. They were the first new things we’d ever seen, much less owned. Oh, how Adelaide loved that doll.”
Mathilde looked off down the bayou, and Alex knew she was remembering the past.
“Don’t get me wrong,” Mathilde said, “I loved the doll, too, but not like Adelaide. That’s why Mama buried her with it when she died. Only seven years old, and even though Mama had the power, there wasn’t nothing she could do to save Adelaide.”
“What happened to her?”
“We were playing in our pirogue on the other side of the island—where we shouldn’t have been. Adelaide was rocking the pirogue back and forth to scare me as I ain’t that keen a swimmer. She finally succeeded in flipping it over, but we was right over a sunken boat. It had probably been in that channel for a decade, decaying and rusting.
“Adelaide fell right on a piece of rusted metal. Cut her leg all up the inside. It was all I could do to get her to shore, then I ran to get Mama. But she was already dead by the time we got back. Mama said too much life had left her body.”