The Curse of a Single Red Rose (Haunted Hearts Series Book 7) (21 page)

“Let’s get out of here. This place gives me the creeps. Any minute some crazy spirit could decide to brave the light and jump out at us.” Collin closed the steel door, pushed the shelves back into place, and headed toward the kitchen door.

“Are you scared, McVey?”

“Me? Scared? Collin McVey doesn’t run from anything.” He paused. “But he doesn’t go looking for trouble either.”

“Does Collin McVey always refer to himself in third person?” Dylan’s hand shot out and stopped Collin from answering. “Shhh.”

Footsteps headed toward them. Collin motioned to the far side of the kitchen where they could hide in the shadows. His suspicions were confirmed when Les Wakefield entered the room, a blank expression on his face and a dazed, half-alive dullness in his eyes. He stopped and scanned the room as if he was aware he wasn’t alone.

Collin’s quickened pulse rate thumped in his ears. He thought he could hear the pounding of Dylan’s heart as he squeezed into the tight space beside him. The rush of air as Dylan sucked in and held his breath hissed next to Collin’s ear. His own breath hung in his throat.

What excuse could they possibly have for being in the hotel without permission? What possible explanation would they have for hiding from Les? When Les discovered the damage, how would they justify tearing down the wall upstairs? If they remained calm and waited until Les had left, perhaps they could avoid a confrontation with the man. Sure, they could get by with it, and Les might never know who tore down the wall. It didn’t appear that Les was aware of too many things at the moment.

After an intense interval, Wakefield pulled the shelving unit back and used a flush-mounted lever on the wall to open the door. He disappeared into the small dark space at the bottom of the stairs, leaving the steel door open behind him. Collin counted to ten before pointing toward the kitchen door. He headed that way with the soft thuds of Dylan’s steps falling in right behind him.

As they traveled across the empty dining room and headed toward the arch between the dining room and the lobby, Collin’s cell phone vibrated in his pocket. The low hum buzzed loud in his ears. He stared at the landing at the top of the stairs waiting for Les would appear. When he didn’t show, Collin yanked the phone out and glanced at the screen. He read Elsa’s text and groaned.

Do you know what today is? Your mom is pissed. Call her.

Collin winced when he read her message, knowing what Mary Pat was mad about without even asking. He had totally forgotten what day it was. Collin was expected to represent the family in the St. Patrick’s Day Parade. He owed his mother a phone call. When he got away from the hotel so that he could talk, he would have some explaining to do. Knowing Mary Pat, she’d probably blame his poor memory on a certain blonde-haired, blue-eyed distraction.

****

Collin’s tuxedo smelled of mothballs. For a year, he had forgotten it existed. Collin was a blue jeans and t-shirt sort of guy. He didn’t even own a dress shirt. The only time the tux ever came out of Mary Pat’s hope chest was the annual parade.

After he’d read Elsa’s text, he’d called his mother and she’d given him an ear full. He had rushed to his mother’s, arriving just in time to get ready and head toward the starting point of the parade. For his mother, for his family, he wore the medallion and marched with the members of the club.

Mary Pat had sniffed when she reprimanded him for his forgetfulness. How could he forget? This year was especially important to the family as his cousin Katie was on the court. In truth, a member of his family was always on the court in some capacity or other.

Leaving Elsa with his mother was not ideal, but apparently the two of them had been texting each other for days, ever since his accident, and they had developed an uneasy relationship. Uneasy for him, not for them. They had Collin in common. He didn’t like that they’d been talking about him behind his back, and he had told Elsa as much. She had found immense amusement in his discomfort. No amount of cajoling pried any information out of her about what his mother had said about him…or about his former girlfriends…or anything else that might have been embarrassing. Good Lord, he hoped his mother hadn’t pulled out the baby pictures.

He shoved his angst aside and focused on putting one step in front of another. It would be awhile before he spotted Dylan, Sophia, and Elsa along the parade route if he could spot them in the crowd. As usual, the spectators were sometimes five or six people deep along the route. It seemed to Collin that the usual rumble of merriment held a different tone than previous years. The crowd shifted and swayed, as if a restless wave rippled through them. Maybe it was his imagination, but the usual merriment had been replaced with a low rumble of discontent.

Dylan and Sophia had promised to stay with Elsa, as she had insisted on positioning herself so that she could see him pass. He would have preferred it if she had stayed away from the crowds. His uncle could have gotten them a spot on a balcony, but he hadn’t been able to get Donovan McVey on the phone.

Les Wakefield was wandering around in the wide, wide world. He could be anywhere. Elsa had laughed and argued that it would be next to impossible for Les to locate her in the crowds. She’d never watched the St. Patrick’s Day Parade and was excited about enjoying a new experience.

Collin thought she’d probably experienced enough new adventures for a while. His arguments had fallen on deaf ears. Elsa couldn’t be persuaded to stay with Dylan and Sophia at their new apartment no matter how hard he argued. His mother had sided with Elsa, and Collin couldn’t fight both of them. Besides, he wasn’t sure how much influence he had over Elsa. They hadn’t been together that long. So he had pleaded with the other couple to stick to Elsa no matter what.

The parade turned onto Magazine, and just as he made the corner, a commotion erupted on the sidewalk behind him. Within seconds, the restless energy of the crowd had turned into shoving, spilling over the barricades and flowing into the marchers.

Someone screamed, and a fist missed Collin’s nose by a fraction of an inch. He ducked as a cabbage flew past his head. From past experience, he knew a cabbage hit to the head could be painful and leave the wounded with a pounding headache. He broke ranks, as did most of the marchers. Some entered the fray while others sought escape in the crowds. In another minute, the melee had dissolved the parade into a brawl.

Fear for Elsa zoomed through his consciousness. If Les was in the crowd, the chaos would give him the perfect distraction to pull her away from the parade and onto a side street.

****

When the scene degenerated, the crowds separated Elsa and Sophia from Dylan. Sophia was frantic, so Elsa helped her search the writhing masses for him. She tightened her hand around Sophia’s fingers, hoping the two of them wouldn’t get separated in the swarms of overly excited people.

Elsa yelled over the crowd noise. “We have to get out of here before this turns into a riot.”

She managed to pull Sophia behind her until they made it to the corner and turned onto a side street. Groups of parade watchers were already spilling down the street, obviously trying to avoid the eventual stampede of people trying to get away from the brawl that had broke out.

They had made it halfway down the block when Sophia stalled behind her. Elsa twisted around to find Les Wakefield with his fingers around Sophia’s upper arm. He pulled Sophia away from her and tugged Sophia toward the middle of the street. Sophia’s face had drained of blood. The woman appeared stunned, or maybe Les had put some sort of spell on her. Either way, Sophia wasn’t fighting him off.

Elsa dug in her bag for her stun gun, rushed toward Les, and jabbed the probes at the exposed flesh of his neck. He flinched when the electrodes sizzled against his skin. The maniacal laugh that escaped his lips sent a chill of fear racing along Elsa’s veins. The weapon seemed to have no effect on him.

A couple across the street from them noticed her buzz Les. “Hey. What’s going on? Is this man bothering you?”

“Come along, Celia.”

Les’s cold, calm words froze Elsa in place. The couple stopped in the middle of the street as if their feet were encased in concrete. Elsa couldn’t move. Couldn’t think. Couldn’t act. It was his eyes. Magnetic. Hypnotic. Spellbinding.

Les stroked Sophia’s cheek while staring into her eyes. “I thought I’d lost you.” He pointed a long, thin finger at Elsa as if she had been solely responsible for keeping Sophia and Les apart. “She’s the one I need. She has the right blood.”

“He’s right. I have the right blood.” Sophia allowed Les to drag her down the street toward the river.

When Les turned away from her, Elsa snapped out of the trance she was in, no longer immobilized by Les’s hypnotic stare, and walked calmly toward him, intending to round kick him. Before she could get within six paces of him, he’d shoved Sophia behind him, turned around, and rushed her before punching her in the face. The couple jerked into action, and the man yelled for help.

Pain shot through Elsa’s cheek and settled behind her forehead. She dropped to the asphalt.

****

The pounding in Elsa’s head made it difficult to focus. She needed to tell Dylan something. What was it? Collin knelt next to her in the middle of the street and patted her cheek. Fear flushed his face. “Elsa, are you all right? Are you hurt?”

Dylan nudged her shoulder. “Where’s Sophia?”

She gulped down a sob laced with fear and dread. Finally, the right words formed. “He took her.”

The expression on Dylan’s face told her that he knew whom she meant. The couple that had witnessed the confrontation was still with them. Tears streamed down the woman’s face. “I wish we could have stopped him. That guy seemed…he seemed really…”

The man added his own observation, clearly shaken by his experience. “It was like he put a spell on us or something.” He glanced at his companion. “We couldn’t move. Like we were paralyzed. It was so freaky. I called the police, but they said it might take them awhile to get to us.” He pointed at Elsa. “Is she going to be all right?”

Collin glared at the man. “I hope so. No thanks to you.”

“Collin, don’t be like that. Les put some sort of weird spell on us. It was his eyes…weird eyes. I couldn’t look away, and I couldn’t do anything. My stun gun…”

He lifted his eyebrows.

“It had no effect on him. None. It’s like the man isn’t human.”

“It was the weirdest thing I’ve ever seen.” The man who had called the police wrapped his arm around the woman he was with.

Dylan shoved Collin hard. “I told you this was a bad idea. We should have never let them come to this thing—”

“You’re not her boss, Dylan.” Elsa pushed up to a seated position. “She has a mind of her own, you know.”

Dylan pointed at Elsa while addressing Collin. “If you had told her to stay home, Sophia wouldn’t have insisted on coming with her. This is your fault, McVey.”

“He can’t tell me what to do. You sexist jerk. You’re as bad as he is.”

Collin ignored her outburst and focused on Dylan’s accusations. “How is this my fault? Sophia told you exactly what you were going to do, didn’t she? You do whatever she wants because you’re still trying to make it up to her for cheating on her.” He snorted with contempt. “I’m not the one who’s whipped.”

Elsa managed to get to her feet without any help.

Collin wrapped his hand around her elbow. “Hey, take it easy. You might’ve hit your head.”

“I’m fine.” She glared first at Collin and then at Dylan. “What is the matter with you? While the two of you are in a pissing match, Les is getting away with her. You should be trying to find her instead of insulting each other and aggravating me.” She headed toward her vehicle parked three blocks away. “If something’s going to be done about this, I guess I’m going to have to do it because you two are too busy yelling at each other and Les will be long gone before the cops get here.”

“Hey, wait up.” The stomp of Collin’s boots pounding the pavement followed her.

Dylan’s voice called to her from behind. “Where are you going?”

“To the hotel.” Elsa thought it was obvious that Les would take Sophia there. “If we’re not going to get help from the police, one of you should call Moreau and tell him what’s going on.”

Dylan grumbled something under his breath. “I’m going to have to text him. He’s not answering his phone.”

She turned to see him frantically tapping his keypad. The man was right to be teetering on the edge of panic. None of them really knew for sure what Les Wakefield was capable of. Would Moreau get his text in time to help them save Sophia?

She was mad enough at the two jerks that she refused to let either of them drive her car, despite the fact her head had bounced on the pavement and she had a pounding headache. The car ride to the Royale Chateau was the longest of Elsa’s life because she had to take numerous detours to get from the Irish Channel to the French Quarter.

Chapter Sixteen

Dallas Thoreau’s pale face made him look like he’d seen a ghost.

Nick had agreed to meet the man somewhere far away from Thoreau’s usual haunts. A chain restaurant in Hammond had suited both of them. He sat across the table from Thoreau with Petrie between them on Nick’s left side. Dallas Thoreau twitched and scanned the room every few seconds. Thoreau was one of the most overly confident men Nick had ever met. Someone or something had gotten to him.

“Someone is harassing you? Really? Who?” Nick enjoyed asking Thoreau to repeat himself.

“You know damn well who’s harassing me, Moreau. Is this some kind of twilight joke?”

A bright gleam of mischief danced in Petrie’s eyes. “Twilight joke? What do you mean? Do you think a vampire is harassing you?”

Nick chuckled while studying his water glass to keep from looking Thoreau in the eye. “Not Twilight, the movie. He meant to say gaslight. It means to trick someone into thinking they’re losing their mind.” He nodded toward Petrie. “The guy is young. He wouldn’t have much experience with that kind of thing.” Nick glanced up at his partner to catch his reaction to Nick’s teasing.

Petrie tossed him a disdainful glare. “You’re not that much older than I am, Moreau.”

Nick explained Thoreau to Petrie. “I think he’s accusing us of playing him.”

“If you put that woman up to it, tell her to stop. I would sue you for harassing me, but I know cops are usually broke.”

He had no clue what Thoreau was going on about but ran with it like the goal post was in sight. Nick leaned his elbows on the table and slowly raised his gaze to meet Thoreau’s. “I think we both know I haven’t hired anyone to harass you.”

The man’s face turned fire engine red. “Don’t play dumb, Moreau. Where in the hell did you find a woman that looks so much like her?”

Nick was starting to get a clue what the man was blathering on about, but he pretended ignorance awhile longer. “I have no idea what you mean. What woman?”

Thoreau jabbed the tabletop with his finger. “I had nothing to do with that girl’s death. Nothing. I don’t know who killed her or why.”

“What girl?”

Thoreau spluttered his answer. “Oh come on, Moreau. You know who I’m talking about. You already knew who she was when you went around to Bitsy’s house asking questions. I didn’t know she was dead. None of us did. She disappeared after Jamie died, and none of us ever saw Tanya again.” He shot a mean glare at Petrie. “What were you thinking showing them a picture of a woman on a slab in the morgue? My God, man. That’s pretty low, even for a cop. You upset my wife, and she isn’t well.”

Petrie had the presence of mind to pretend to be contrite. “I didn’t mean to upset her, Thoreau. I swear we didn’t know who the woman was, so how could we have any idea she would mean anything to your wife? I was doing my job. That’s all.” Petrie’s face looked practically angelic.

Amusement nearly overcame Nick. “So you think I hired someone to pretend to be Tanya Delacroix, huh?”

Thoreau’s patience appeared to unravel. “No, not Tanya. That other girl. The one you found in my trunk. Bitsy’s daughter.”

Nick leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, unwilling to let on that the man had just thoroughly confused him. Thoreau was denying involvement in Tanya’s death, yet he was complaining about being harassed by a woman who looked like Audrey. Was Thoreau confused?

A little more confusion wouldn’t hurt Dallas Thoreau. If he could catch Thoreau off his guard, then maybe he could get him to blurt the truth. “Why didn’t you tell me you knew Audrey?”

“I
didn’t
know Audrey.” A vein bounced in Thoreau’s neck. His denial was a little too vehement.

“But you knew who she was when I asked you about her. Why did you lie to me?”

“Okay, so I didn’t tell you I knew who she was, but that doesn’t mean I knew her.”

And lying was a family tradition.

“What did she say to you that’s got you flustered?”

Thoreau huffed with exasperation. “I am not flustered. I’m pissed off.”

“I can’t help you unless you tell me how she’s bothering you. What does Audrey St. Clair have to do with Tanya Delacroix’s death?” That’s what Nick really wanted to know.

“How would I know? She said, ‘Tanya is your fault.’ How is that girl’s death my fault?” Thoreau seemed to pull himself together. “Make her stop harassing me, or I’m going to make life hell for you. You will regret messing with me.”

That sounded very much like a threat.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you. That kind of harassment is illegal.”

Thoreau hissed like a cornered cat. “If you don’t leave me alone, I’m going to have a word with your captain.”

Nick laughed without restraint. “My captain? You mean my Uncle Ed? You’d better go higher up than that.” Nick paused. “You do have connections higher up the ladder than a captain’s rank, don’t you?”

“I don’t like what you’re implying.”

No, he supposed Thoreau wouldn’t.

“I haven’t hired anyone to harass you, Thoreau. Are you sure you’re not being haunted by the ghost of Audrey St. Clair?”

Thoreau roared with irritation. “Ghosts? Who the hell believes in ghosts?” He glanced around the restaurant. Several patrons stared at them with quizzical expressions. Thoreau lowered his voice. “Stop jerking me around.”

Moreau smiled. “If I were jerking you around, I’d stop just because you asked so nicely, but I didn’t ask the ghost of Audrey St. Clair to haunt you. Ghosts have a will of their own. You must have done something to deserve her attention. Are you sure you had nothing to do with Tanya Delacroix’s death?”

“I told you I didn’t. You should look at Les Wakefield for that.”

Petrie snickered, his expression loaded with derision. “You think we believe you just because you said you didn’t have anything to do with her death. Since when has your word been good enough for us to rely on, Thoreau?”

The man jumped to his feet. “My word has always been good. All I have to do is say it…” He snapped his fingers. “And whatever I want happens. You’d be wise not to ignore my request. Stop the harassment.”

Thoreau probably thought his demand for an audience was over, but Nick still had some interrogating to do. “So where is the ghost of Audrey St. Clair haunting you?”

Thoreau’s jaw set into a hard line. If looks could kill, Nick would be dead.

“Ghosts hang around places that are meaningful to them. Where would that be, Thoreau? Have you been hanging around the scene of her murder, maybe?”

“Of course not. I have no idea where that woman was murdered.” Thoreau spluttered, making his rebuttal appear comical.

“You aren’t breaking and entering into someone’s house, are you?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Did Audrey take something of yours that you’d like to get back?”

Audrey had demanded it from Sophia, but Sophia didn’t have it. Did Thoreau know that Audrey didn’t have it? Whatever
it
was?

Nick held his breath. Had he overplayed his hand?

“You’ll hear from my lawyer.” Thoreau left without paying his part of the check.

Petrie’s eyes followed Thoreau’s departing backside. When he’d cleared the door, the younger cop offered his opinion. “The man’s a little wound up, isn’t he?”

Moreau nodded and stabbed his fork into his uneaten chicken and pasta. “For a man that hasn’t done anything illegal, he’s acting like he’s guilty of something.”

Petrie rubbed his red-rimmed eyes.

“What’s the matter with you?”

“I’m allergic to everything. It’s that time of year.” He coughed, lifted his steak knife, and carved off a chunk of sirloin. With his gaze focused on the window, he chewed for a long time before he slurped a gulp of water. “This is the worst steak I’ve ever eaten.” He wiped his mouth with his napkin and set it aside. “What do we do now?”

“Tanya Delacroix has a sister. We need to talk to her and find out what she knows about Tanya’s relationship with Audrey St. Clair and Jamie Thoreau, and we need to find out how Dallas Thoreau knows Les Wakefield.”

Petrie nodded. “He seemed certain Wakefield had something to do with Tanya’s death. Maybe because she was found in Wakefield’s hotel. But how would he know that? As far as we know, you and I are the only ones that know the identity of Jane Doe.”

“You, me, and her killer.”

“Are you sure her killer knew her?”

Moreau considered all the evidence, the coroner’s report, and the manner of her death. A shiver worked through his body. “I am now.”

Just as he motioned to the waiter to bring him the check, his cell phone vibrated on the table next to his plate. He glanced at the display and groaned. After reading the text, he turned the phone so Petrie could read the message.

Meet me at the hotel. Les has Sophia.

Petrie rose to his feet. “We have a long drive.”

Moreau hesitated. He hadn’t quite told Petrie everything.

“The hotel is haunted.”

Petrie lifted his eyebrows. “Really? Well then maybe we can ask the spirits why Audrey St. Clair thinks Dallas Thoreau killed Tanya Delacroix.”

Maybe. From what he recalled of the ghosts at The Royale Chateau Hotel, the spirits that remained there had a focused agenda.

Before he’d made it back to his car, he’d called in an all points bulletin for Wakefield and Sophia.

****

If there were such a thing as miracles, and Elsa truly believed there was, then one had just happened. A parking space opened up in front of the hotel, and she rolled her compact car into the spot. Dylan Hunter jumped from the car and yanked open the front door of the hotel before she came to a full stop. Collin rushed through the entrance a few paces behind him. Neither man slowed to allow her to catch up.

She took her time exiting the car, in no hurry to face the spirits that lived in the hotel. The sun shone down on the building, casting a glow around it as if the heavens had put the place in a special spotlight.

Elsa stood on the sidewalk, staring up at the ornate ironwork that decorated the balcony on the façade of the building. The balcony served no functioning purpose except as a landing for the fire escape that zigzagged down from the roof. Her mind latched onto the rusting metal of the ladder that would slide down to the street should anyone put enough weight on it.

That ladder needs a fresh coat of paint.

She shook the stray thought out of her head and refocused on the front door. If she were going to be any help rescuing Sophia, she would have to force her legs to move. Fear had immobilized her. She hadn’t been willing to admit how much her last experience in the hotel had shaken her mental equilibrium. Could her mind handle another supernatural event?

The woman she had encountered on the street months ago, when Elsa had first surveyed the building, appeared seemingly out of nowhere. Elsa groaned. She didn’t have time for the woman’s meddling. What was the woman’s name? She couldn’t remember for the life of her.

“I warned you to stay away from here.”

Was the woman trying to imitate a scene from
Scooby Doo
?

“Really? Are you going to tell me to
leave this place
? Ingrid told me what you were up to. Scaring me off isn’t going to run Les Wakefield away from here. Even if you did, you and your husband still couldn’t buy the building. So maybe you should go away and mind your own business.”

“She’s not in there, you know.”

Her heart stuttered and took a second to regain a normal rhythm. “Who’s not in there?”

“Whoever ya’ll are looking for. She’s not here.”

Elsa narrowed her eyes at the woman. Maybe she wasn’t real. Maybe she was an apparition. How could Elsa tell the difference any longer? “How do you know we’re looking for someone?”

She pointed at the building that butted up to the hotel. “I live next door. I could hear them yelling her name through the wall. You’re looking for someone named Sophia, right?”

Elsa refused to even twitch.

“She’s not here. I know when people go in that place, and I know when they leave.”

The hotel wasn’t a huge building, but it would be hard for anyone to notice every time someone entered or left. “How do you know?”

“Every time someone goes into the place, the vibrations that come from that building shake my apartment. The hotel doesn’t like to be disturbed.”

Elsa laughed. “So you’re saying the building gets angry when people are inside it? If that’s so, why have I never felt the vibrations when I go inside the building?”

“Don’t you know, girl? That building has put a spell on you.” The woman inched closer to Elsa. “Has he given you a rose? Naw, I don’t think so because you’re still alive.” The woman nodded as if she was the wisest sage on the planet. “But you’ve seen things in there that you wish you hadn’t, haven’t you?”

The vision of the murderous skeletons danced through her mind. “If you’ve been inside the hotel without permission, then you’ve been trespassing. I don’t think Mr. Wakefield is going to ignore that.”