The Vanishing (4 page)

After identifying Anna on the tape, Colette hadn’t said another word, but Max didn’t think for a minute that she hadn’t formed an opinion. As soon as the climbed into his Jeep, she let it out.

“She looked scared,” Colette said.

“Yes, but we have no reason to assume she’s scared because she’s in danger. Maybe there’s a sick friend or family member she never told you about.”

“She would tell me about a sick friend. I’m a nurse, for goodness’ sake. That’s enough of a reason for me to assume she’s in danger. If the problem was benign or anyone else’s to bear, why wouldn’t she tell me?”

He blew out a breath. As much as he hated it, the fact that Anna hadn’t contacted the only person she’d become close to didn’t add up, unless Anna herself was the one in trouble.

“You said she didn’t have family,” he said.

“
She
said she didn’t have family.” Colette shook her head. “Look, clearly I don’t know Anna as well as I thought I did. Maybe I don’t know her at all, but the woman on that tape didn’t know anyone was watching her, so she had no reason to fake being scared.”

“I agree, but we need a starting point. Her past is the most likely choice.”

“Okay.”

“You said her hometown was on this highway, right?”

“Not exactly. I said it was on the way to her hometown.”

Something in her tone let him know he was in for more answers he didn’t want. He looked over at her. “Where is Anna from?”

“Cache.”

He stared at her. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“I wish I were.”

“The entire village is the Louisiana swamp version of a unicorn. The name itself means ‘hidden.’ Even if it really exists, which I’m not certain of, how in the world are we supposed to find it? Every teenager I know, including me, tried to find Cache. No one ever came close.”

“It’s there…somewhere in the swamp. It has to be.”

Max shook his head. “Even if it is, there are other things to consider. You grew up in New Orleans, right? You know the stories.”

“What—that the entire village materializes at the will of the village people and can disappear just the same? That no one’s ever seen it and lived to tell about it? That if an outsider sets foot in the village, a curse will descend on ten generations of their family?”

She blew out a breath. “It’s all just stories made up by parents to keep their kids from wandering in the swamp. Maybe even made up by the villagers to keep people from looking for the village. A bunch of old Creole lore can’t possibly concern you.”

“It’s more than a bunch of lore. Mystere Parish is different.”

“Different how? The Louisiana mystique extends beyond that one parish.”

“Things happen here,” he said. “Things that aren’t possible. When we went into the swamp as boys, sometimes I’d feel a presence, something watching our every move.”

“Well, of course, there are animals out in the swamp and probably hunters—”

“It wasn’t anything like that. Look, I don’t know how to explain it to you without sounding crazy. I just know that you can’t take things in Mystere Parish at surface value.”

Colette bit her lower lip. “You think they’re practicing voodoo in Cache?”

“Maybe,
if
the village even exists. But regardless of whether or not they’re practicing the old ways, they will not take kindly to intruders. Finding the village could be enough to put us at risk to the same thing that happened to Anna.”

Just going into the swamp will expose us to whatever’s out there watching.
He thought it, but didn’t say it.

“Are you telling me you won’t try?” she asked.

“No, I’m telling you why we shouldn’t try. But if you still want to move forward, then I will.”

“Of course I want to continue,” she said, but Max could see the uncertainty in her expression. “You saw her on the tape. She needs our help.”

He pulled out of the bank parking lot and merged onto the highway, directing his Jeep down the lonely stretch of road. “Pirate’s Cove is the closest town to where Cache is supposed to be. We’ll see if we can get some help locating the village there, and we need access to a boat.”

“I do know one thing about Cache,” Colette said, her voice wavering. “Until Anna Huval, no one’s ever left the village and talked about it. And they made her promise never to return.”

* * *

A
NNA STUMBLED THROUGH
the wall of decaying moss, the thick brush scratching her bare arms as she ran. Her leg muscles burned from the exertion of an hour-long race through the swamp, and her head throbbed above her right eye, where the creature had struck her. She paused for a couple of seconds and looked up, trying to ascertain that she was still running in the direction of the highway, but the thick canopy of cypress trees and moss choked out any view of the moonlight.

If she could get to the highway, she might be able to get help. The only town anywhere near was Pirate’s Cove, where she’d left her car, but she had no idea which direction it was anymore. Besides, the residents of Pirate’s Cove had to know about the curse. Someone was shielding the creature…either by helping it remain hidden all these years or by calling it up from the darkness if it hadn’t been there before. Either way, it was likely that person was in Pirate’s Cove.

The highway was her safest bet. There wasn’t much traffic, but truck drivers often used that stretch of road because it was wide open and not cluttered with regular traffic.

Taking a deep breath, she pushed forward again, knowing that the creature was behind her somewhere…tracking her as it would an animal. And if it found her, it would kill her like one.

As soon as she told him her secret.

Chapter Four

It was almost one o’clock when Max pulled into Pirate’s Cove. The town consisted of six buildings, scattered on both sides of the highway. The swamp stretched behind the buildings and went on for thousands of acres. Max pulled up to a café and parked.

“I figure we can get a bite to eat and use the time to feel out the locals. See if we can get some information on the location of Cache.”

Colette nodded. Her stomach had started rumbling after leaving the bank. With all the stress of the morning, she was a bit surprised that food even entered into her thoughts, but apparently, biology prevailed.

They exited the car and walked to the café entrance.

Max paused outside the front door and said, “Don’t tell anyone about Anna.”

“Then what do we say?”

“I’ll think of something. Let me get a read on the people first, and then follow my lead.”

She nodded and followed him inside, reminding herself of Alex’s confidence in Max’s abilities. No matter how much she wished the investigation could progress faster, she had to take a step back and let Max do the work she’d hired him to do. He’d struck just the right note with the bank manager in getting access to the video footage. Hopefully, he could find a way to do it again with the citizens of Pirate’s Cove.

The lunch rush was either over or there wasn’t much of one to begin with. Two men with sparse gray hair were the only patrons in the café, along with one cook and a waitress. All four stared as they took seats at the counter.

“Can I get you something to drink?” the waitress asked.

“Iced tea,” Colette said.

“Same for me,” Max chimed in.

The waitress filled the glasses and placed them on the counter. “You want something to eat?”

“I’ll take the special,” Max said.

Colette looked up at the board and saw the special was a BLT with chips. “I’ll take the special, too.”

The cook pulled some bacon from a fryer and began preparing the two sandwiches. “You folks passing through?”

“No,” Max said. “Actually, we’re looking for Cache.”

The waitress dropped a plastic bottle of ketchup on the floor and some of it squirted out onto her shoe. The cook glared at her, and she snatched the bottle up and hurried through a door to the back of the café. The two old men leaned toward each other and started whispering.

The cook slid the plates in front of them and wiped his hands on a dish towel. “You a little old to be chasing after fairy tales, ain’t you?”

“I don’t think it is a fairy tale,” Max said.

The cook laughed. “You and about a hundred new high-school seniors every year. All tromping through town and into the swamp, looking for something that ain’t there. But hell, I can’t complain. Brings me business.”

“We’re looking for a young woman, a friend of my fiancée’s,” Max said.

Colette struggled to keep her expression neutral at Max’s comment, but a moment later, she understood his tactic. He didn’t want to reveal himself as a detective. That might make them close up even more. If she and Max had a personal relationship, it gave him a good reason to be involved.

“She told my fiancée she had an emergency back home, but when she didn’t return, we started to worry. We know she’s from Cache, so we figure that’s where the emergency was. We want to help her if she’s in some kind of trouble. If you know anything about the town, I’d really appreciate the help.”

“Can’t tell you what I don’t know. Far as I know, there ain’t no Cache and never has been.”

The cook dropped his gaze to the sink behind the counter, then picked up a glass and started washing it. Colette was certain he was lying.

“Are you from this area?” Max asked.

“Yep. Name’s Tom. I’ve owned this café for over thirty years.”

“You mean to tell me that no one lives in the swamp outside of this town?” Max asked. “I find that hard to believe.”

Tom rinsed the glass and started drying it with a dish towel. “Plenty of people live in the swamp,” he said. “But that don’t mean they all living in some legendary community, and certainly not one running everything with black arts, like all the rumors say. If something like that was going on around here, don’t you think we’d have heard about it by now?”

“I guess so. So where did my fiancée’s friend come from, you think?”

Tom shrugged. “I got no idea. I guess when you find her, you can ask?”

“
If
we find her. Even if she’s from this area, a young woman has no business roaming the swamp alone.”

“That is a fact.” Tom cocked his head to one side and studied them for a moment. Then he narrowed his gaze on Colette. “How come you know the girl if she’s from the swamp?”

“She works for me at a hospital in New Orleans,” Colette said. “She’s studying for her nursing degree. I’ve been helping her, so we’ve become close.”

“And she said she was from Cache?”

“Yes.”

“You must not be from around here if you didn’t think that was odd.”

“I grew up in New Orleans, and I’ve heard all the stories about Cache. I don’t believe half of them, but that doesn’t mean the village doesn’t exist.”

“You hadn’t heard all the stories about Cache, because even if you believed only half of ’em, you wouldn’t want to be finding it.”

“I’m not a coward. I want to help my friend.”

Tom shook his head. “You ever stopped to think that it’s far more likely your friend has told you a story because she’s got trouble with the law or a man? Some women always got problems with a man.”

“You could be right, but I won’t be able to live with myself if I don’t at least try to find her and help if she’s in trouble.”

He sighed. “You seem to be a nice woman, looking out for someone that ain’t even kin. I wish I could help.”

“Do you recall anyone with a daughter, about twenty or so, that lives out in the swamp?” Max asked.

“The swamp people’s got very little cash, and what they have they don’t spend on food service, so I don’t see them much. When they come into town, it’s for gas and minimal supplies. Talk to Danny over at the gas station. He may be able to help you.”

“Thanks,” Max said. “I’ll check with him when we leave.”

Tom glanced at the two old men in the corner and they rose to leave. They nodded to Tom and left the restaurant without so much as a backward glance. Colette looked out the plate-glass window and saw them cross the street and go into the gas station. She looked over at Max, who barely shook his head.

Colette tackled what was left of her lunch, anxious to leave. She felt more uncomfortable in this café than she ever had anywhere else. The undercurrents were almost palpable.

The waitress returned from the back and removed their empty plates from the counter. Colette noticed her movements were jerky and she barely looked at them. “Do you know where to find any of the swamp people?” Colette asked the waitress.

She stiffened and glanced over at Tom before replying. “I don’t ever go into the swamp. It’s too dangerous.”

“Have you ever met any of the people when they come here?” Colette asked. “A young Creole woman, about twenty?”

The waitress grabbed a dish towel and started wiping down the coffeepot behind the counter. “I don’t know any girl. Don’t know any swamp people.”

Max pulled out his wallet and left some money on the counter. “Thanks for the information and the food,” he said.

Tom nodded, but the waitress didn’t even look up. As soon as they got outside the café, Colette said, “The old men went to warn the gas-station guy we were coming, didn’t they?”

“Probably, which is interesting.”

“Tom was lying. What are they hiding?”

“I don’t know. Maybe they don’t believe our reason for wanting to find Cache.” Max pointed to the gas station and they started across the street.

“Then what else could we possibly want?”

“Maybe reporters writing a story. Maybe someone looking for the ability to do black arts. If Cache really exists somewhere in the swamp near this town, they’ve managed to keep its location a secret for a long time. There must be something in it for the locals to keep the town protected.”

A chill passed over Colette, even though it was a warm fall afternoon. “What could be so important or so dangerous that generations of people made sure it stayed a secret all these years, and what would the villagers have to give to the townspeople to gain such a collective silence?”

Max shook his head. “I don’t know, but I have to tell you, I don’t get a good feeling about this.”