The Curse of a Single Red Rose (Haunted Hearts Series Book 7) (11 page)

“It’s been awhile.” Dylan seemed to be searching his face as if expecting answers to questions he hadn’t yet asked.

He lowered his tall frame onto the sofa, and Collin took a seat across from him.

“So you went to work for Wakefield?” The question mark on the end of Dylan’s sentence was huge.

“Yes, I did. But it might be awhile before I can work again. I feel like crap.” He allowed a bit of a sarcastic edge to enter his tone. Did he really look so bad as Dylan had made out like he did when he answered the door?

“You’re probably wondering what I’m doing here.”

That, he was.

“Did Moreau tell you that I used to date Audrey St. Clair?”

No, he hadn’t. Moreau hadn’t even told him the name of the woman who had been found dead in Dallas Thoreau’s Audi. He’d learned her name on the local news by accident because he had just happened to land on the news channel at just the right moment. Otherwise, he still might not know. “Moreau has a habit of not telling everything he knows.”

Dylan smirked. “No, he doesn’t. But to be fair, I never told him everything I knew either…not until it was almost too late.”

Collin had kept a few things to himself as well. He had yet to suggest to Moreau that the driver of the car was Les Wakefield. He hadn’t seen the man’s face, but he would bet money on the driver being Wakefield. The timing was just too much of a coincidence. Yet he couldn’t accuse the man without good cause. Moreau hadn’t returned to push him to reveal what he suspected either. Yeah, there were things it was best to keep from the cop.

Dylan leaned forward with his elbows propped on his thighs, an anguished expression creeping across his face. “I was hoping you knew what was going on.”

“He has a suspect.”

“Really? Oh, I guess he’d suspect the owner of the car.”

“I think he planned to question him, but I don’t know if he has or not. I’m not sure it will get Moreau the answers he wants.”

Dylan stared hard at Collin. “You suspect someone else, don’t you?” Just a second passed before Dylan filled in the blanks. “You think Les Wakefield ran into you, don’t you? So then, it wasn’t Les’s car that hit you?”

Somehow Moreau had managed to keep Thoreau’s name out of the news, but Collin suspected it wouldn’t be long before a reporter sniffed out that significant detail. There were probably a few New Orleans based reporters crapping in their pants because the information was being withheld.

Collin shook his head. “No, the car belonged to someone else. Whoever was driving the car had removed the license plate. They tracked the owner down through the VIN number.”

“Why do you think Les would deliberately run into you with a dead woman in the trunk of someone else’s car?” Dylan held up his hand. “Let me guess. The guy has acted strange just like I said he would.” Dylan was there when Moreau had asked Collin to watch Les, so he was aware of Collin’s clandestine mission to observe Les’s behavior.

“Actually, I’ve only met him once. He hasn’t been around the site. You’d think he’d be more involved in the project. Sound familiar?”

The imposter, Brandon Wakefield, had been surprisingly absent while they worked on Wakefield Manor the previous year. Apparently, the real Wakefield was repeating the pattern with the hotel.

“He’s left it up to the project manager, hasn’t he? Just like Brandon did with me and the manor house.”

Collin nodded.

“Does your project manager know about what happened last year?”

“I told her some of it.”

Dylan’s eyebrows shot up. “Her? You’re working for a woman?”

Collin jumped to her defense even though Dylan’s question hadn’t suggested that he needed to defend her. “She’s good at what she does.”

“Have you warned her about Les?”

He shook his head. “I need to. Hell, I want to. I think I have to.”

“Why haven’t you?”

Oh, that was a complicated question. “Because Moreau asked me not to.” He’d talked to Moreau about letting Elsa in on his suspicions, and even though Moreau hadn’t liked the idea of someone else knowing, he’d agreed Elsa needed to be told that Les might be dangerous.

“The woman might be in danger. You have to tell her.”

“Every time I start to tell her, something stops me.”

Elsa had confessed to him about the odd oppression she’d felt after she discovered the blueprints were wrong. Was he suffering from the same sort of inability to divulge what he knew? Every time he thought he’d tell her about the mission Moreau had given him, his throat clogged up as if he’d swallowed a wad of cotton.

No, it was even more than that. Collin was afraid that Elsa would fire him or she would quit, and then he’d never see her again. When she found out he’d kept Moreau’s suspicions about Les from her, she might be so mad she’d never want to see him again.

“You have to warn her, Collin.”

“I’m doing my best to watch out for her.”

Dylan shook his head. “That might not be enough. I almost lost Sophia even though we were together practically all the time. That whole Wakefield family is…there is something wrong with them. Something dark and ugly. Something that common sense can’t explain. I said I’d never work for the man again because things happened out there that shouldn’t happen…”

Collin caught the unspoken part of Dylan’s comments. “You’re going back to work for him, aren’t you?”

“He wants me to finish the manor house. I haven’t had much work since then. Just a small project in Natchitoches. I need the job.” A long silence followed. Then Dylan spoke again. “I’ve asked my friend Jordan to bring some of his friends down from Arkansas. As soon as I have access to the manor house again, we’re doing an investigation.”

“A paranormal investigation?”

Dylan nodded.

“I want in on that.” He’d never even considered it before, but the words popped out of his mouth as if he’d been considering the possibility for months.

His request seemed to shock Dylan as much as it shocked him.

“Okay. I’ll tell Jordan you want in. I don’t think he’ll object.” Dylan rose to his feet.

Collin noted the fresh worry lines that had cropped up on Dylan’s forehead.

Dylan shook his head. “Why do you want to be in on that?”

Collin supposed it was a fair question. “I think Les Wakefield is threatening me, and I want to know why.”

“You think stirring up the ghosts at Wakefield Manor will give you the answers you want?” Dylan didn’t bother to hide his sarcastic attitude.

“I think there are a lot of secrets buried at that plantation.” If he could stop Les Wakefield from harming someone by uncovering Wakefield secrets, then that’s what he had to do. Not just for Collin’s sake, but for Elsa’s as well.

****

Elsa traveled along the River Road toward Wakefield because Collin had suggested the sheriff in St. Denis might have found her great-aunt’s remains. That afternoon had been the first free moment she’d had to follow up on what he’d told her, and she didn’t want him to know she was doing it. If she had told him, he probably would have objected to her going without him, and she probably would have postponed her plans until he could travel again. A sense of urgency had compelled her to make the trip, but she decided to tell him about it after it was over. Not that he was her boss or anything. Collin’s opinion had started to matter to her.

Grace Latiolais poured Elsa a glass of tea from a crystal pitcher. The two women sat on the back verandah of The Grove plantation house. As she had made her way along the road to Wakefield, she’d decided to stop when she’d seen the sign outside of Destrehan that pointed toward the bed and breakfast.

It was just the right temperature for sitting on the porch at one of the wrought iron tables with matching chairs. The building and grounds were gorgeous, and Elsa couldn’t get over how beautiful the place was. She imagined it would be even more stunning when the azaleas were in full bloom in a few weeks.

The highway she’d taken off I-10 had been lined with holding tanks for petroleum products and manufacturing plants covered in orange colored dust. Her first trip up the River Road was leaving her somewhat disillusioned. She’d always had a romanticized mental picture of the road along the Mississippi River.

To her surprise, she’d gone around a bend, and the world of manufacturing and petrochemical plants had disappeared. The Grove was set in a grove. Tall oaks dotted the property, secluding it in a cover of centuries-old shade. The trees weren’t aligned in two straight rows as at the famous Oak Alley plantation up the road near Vacherie. The oaks were scattered haphazardly as if a giant had flung them to earth and allowed them to land at will. Having read about landscaping while doing some research on plantation houses along the Mississippi, Elsa was aware this particular species was not naturally indigenous to Louisiana, so the trees had to have been planted on the property many years ago.

A gentle wind blew wisps of brunette hair about Grace’s face. Elsa had found the manager of the bed and breakfast at the front desk. After she had explained to the woman who she was and then had apologized for showing up without prior warning, she’d pitched into the reason for her visit. Without commenting on her rushed explanation, Grace had invited her to drink iced tea on the verandah, and Elsa hadn’t resisted the temptation. It was turning into a rather warm day for mid-March.

Grace held a glass of tea out to her. “So you’re overseeing the renovations on the Royale Chateau. I’ve been curious about how that was going.”

“Well…some odd things have happened, and the work has come to a standstill. I have some questions…some concerns. Before I agree to finish the job, I need some reassurance about…certain things, and I was hoping you might be able to help.”

“Me? How?”

“I’m sorry. I know this is kind of vague, but some of the weird things that have happened have been kind of…vague.”

Grace nodded as if she understood Elsa’s ambiguous comments. “So what do you want to know?”

“Since the hotel and The Grove are owned by the same man… Have you ever met Les Wakefield?” Elsa began her interview with the question that piqued her curiosity the most.

Grace tilted her head. “It’s funny you should ask, but no, actually I haven’t. I keep inviting him to come for a visit, but he always declines.”

“But you’ve spoken with him, right?”

Confusion covered the other woman’s face. “Of course I have.”

“How long have you worked for him?”

“Almost a year. I was hired after Les took possession of the property. You know it had been in a trust at the bank in Wakefield for a lot of years until they finally located an heir. I think a con artist with the same last name actually took possession for a while before they caught on to him. I’ve been told the bank and the sheriff in Wakefield made sure they had the right man this time before they gave up control of it to Les.”

“Yes, I’ve been told about that.” She gulped an ounce of tea and then hit Grace with her next question. “Has anything strange happened while you’ve been here?”

Grace laughed. “The place is haunted if that’s what you mean.” She swished her tea in her glass and then took a sip. “I’ve heard stories about this place all my life, but I never believed the rumors until I started working here. I’ve probably managed the property longer than anyone else. The place gives off a creepy vibe. Managers come and go.” She shrugged. “I need the job.”

“What kinds of things happen?”

Grace sat a little straighter and suspicion resonated in her voice. “You’re not one of those ghost hunters, are you?”

“Not hardly.” Elsa studied the woman’s guarded expression. Grace might be more cooperative if Elsa was direct. “I’ve met Les three times since I started the hotel job. Only met him once before that. I think there’s something off about him. I guess I just wanted to know if you’d gotten the same feeling.”

“You don’t mean mental, do you?”

“No, I don’t.” She drank in the serenity of the tree-strewn landscape before continuing, before making up her mind to reveal her fears. Once she’d found her inner calm place, she continued. “I know this is going to sound strange, but when I’m around him, I feel as if he’s trying to manipulate my mind, and sometimes it feels as if he’s getting away with it.”

“You know…” Grace seemed to struggle with how much to say. “Sometimes it seems as if… When I go into Celia’s room…”

“Celia?” Elsa’s mouth went dry repeating the name.

“She was the daughter of the last Soileau that owned this house. She married the first Les Wakefield back in the 1930s, and that’s how the Wakefield family acquired The Grove.”

“How many Les Wakefields are there?”

“The current owner is the great grandson, I think.”

Grace wrapped her arms around herself and shivered. Chill bumps erupted on Elsa’s arms. A sudden wind had whipped up and rushed them. It seemed the cold went straight through Elsa, instead of over and around her.

“Sometimes, I think I feel Celia’s presence. Like she’s trying to warn me about Les Wakefield. I haven’t really worried about him much because he’s never been here. Then sometimes I think…”

“What?”

“That she’s warning me about the first Les Wakefield.”