The Accused (12 page)

He looked over at her and grinned. “Think you’re funny, don’t you?” He pressed the accelerator, but instead of turning right toward the estate, he turned left.

“Where are you going?”

“Because you want to meet my mother so badly, I figure there’s no time like the present. While you two think up a million ways to ‘fix’ my life, I’ll go check out the house.”

Alaina stared at him. “You can’t just foist me off unannounced on your mother. That’s rude, Carter. Maybe you do need fixing.”

“Rude? Are you kidding me? My mom has been dying to meet you since before you got here, and she’ll be thrilled to be the one to fuss over you in your time of need. She’s a big caretaker, my mom. Your visiting would actually be doing her a favor.”

She sighed. “Small towns are very odd.”

“You have no idea.”

* * *

W
ILLAMINA
T
RAHAN
,
as predicted, was thrilled to meet Alaina and horrified to hear about her fall. She immediately put her arm around Alaina’s shoulders and drew her into the kitchen where she insisted on making coffee and cutting her a piece of apple pie. The apple pie looked delicious enough that Carter was tempted to linger, but curiosity won out and he left his mother’s house and headed to the estate.

Amos’s key was still in his pocket, so gaining entry into the house was no problem. He yelled out as he walked through the front doors in case the caretaker was somewhere inside, but only silence greeted him.

He glanced at the downstairs entry lights, all of which seemed to be in fine working order now. The second thing he intended to do was look for a short, but that was only if the first thing he intended to do turned up nothing. The first thing he was going to do was try to determine how exactly Alaina had fallen.

Certainly, if she was spooked, in the dark, in an unfamiliar place, she could have lost her balance or taken a wrong step, and that was exactly what he’d told her. But he wanted to make sure another reason wasn’t behind her sudden clumsy spell. He took the stairs two steps at a time until he reached the second floor. On the landing, he crouched down to study the bottom of the newels, running his fingers lightly up the base on each side of the stairs.

His pulse spiked a bit when he felt the tiny indentions that circled near the bottom of each newel. Someone had strung wire across the steps when Alaina was showering, then turned off the entry lights to prompt her to come downstairs in the dark. He’d bet money on it. The question was who?

Aside from Jack, it seemed unlikely that someone in Calais had a problem with Alaina unless it had something to do with the will. It was time for a conversation with William to determine who benefited if Alaina and her sisters didn’t inherit. Of course, that only mattered if the secondary beneficiaries were even aware of their status, which he doubted, as even the sisters had not been aware of the terms of their mother’s will until after Purcell’s death.

It was far more likely that it was personal—that someone from Alaina’s past had followed her to Calais and was using the remote location and her solitary living arrangement as an opportunity to scare her. But the wire was far more than a prank. Alaina could have easily been killed.

He headed downstairs to check the lights but already knew he’d find nothing wrong with them. Bad wiring hadn’t rigged a trip wire on the stairs, nor did he think it was a coincidence that the lights went off exactly as Alaina exited the bathroom. Someone was toying with her.

As soon as he finished here, he’d head back to his mother’s. Being the consummate hostess—and being his mother—she’d insist on their staying for dinner. But as soon as it was over and he’d grabbed a change of clothes from his cabin, he and Alaina were going to have a long talk about the people who may want her dead—starting with everyone related to the one case she was probably trying to forget.

* * *

W
ILLAMINA
,
WHO
’
D
INSISTED
Alaina call her Willa, had been the consummate host. Alaina smiled at her as she carried a tray of iced tea onto the spacious stone patio behind her house. It was warm and humid, but Willa had assured her that her swamp cooler would make the atmosphere pleasant and allow them to see the sunset over the swamp, something the older woman said she enjoyed most evenings.

Alaina hadn’t been convinced that anything could best the heat and humidity of Louisiana in the summer, but she’d been intrigued by the term
swamp cooler
and couldn’t resist heading outside to see what one looked like.

It had turned out to be a giant water-cooled fan that seemed to lower the temperature on the patio by a good twenty degrees, which was impressive. She suspected the loud whirling wouldn’t be accepted at her condo back in Baton Rouge, but then, she wasn’t even certain she’d return there except to pack. Maybe when all this was over, she’d find a small town to move to. This one was rather charming and if all small towns had women as nice and interesting as Willa, who could bake pie like an angel, it would be all that more tempting.

Maybe you should just stay here.

The thought flashed through her mind and she froze. Where in the world had that come from? Calais was lovely in its own way, but she could hardly hope to have a legal career here. Any town could support a doctor or dentist, but few small places had enough need for an attorney to support them. Not to mention that while Alaina was enjoying the slower pace for the moment, she knew it wasn’t something she could adjust to on a daily basis. She had to have enough mental stimulation keeping her busy or she’d get restless, bored and unhappy.

Willa handed her a glass of tea and motioned to patio chairs placed directly in the path of the swamp cooler airflow. She took a seat and sipped the tea, then sighed, savoring the sweet, crisp taste.

“I don’t usually drink sweetened tea,” Alaina said, “but then, I never get tea that tastes like this in Baton Rouge either.”

Willa nodded and took the seat across from her. “The secret is in steeping the tea. No cheating with coffeepots and such. You either boil the water or set it out on a hot day on your porch. When it’s just the right shade of brown, you add sugar and cold water and stick it in the refrigerator to chill.”

Alaina didn’t even want to think about exactly how many cups of sugar were in the tea. She was enjoying herself far too much and, quite frankly, deserved a bit of a treat. “Well, it tastes wonderful.”

Willa smiled. “It’s nice to see a young woman who isn’t afraid to have a bit of sugar. Why, my niece took a swig of tea last time she was visiting and I thought she’d have apoplexy. Said it would put her over her calorie limit for the day. When I have to count the calories in my tea, I want to just pass on over to the big house. I bet there’s no unsweetened tea in heaven.”

Alaina laughed. “I hope you’re right.”

Willa studied her for a moment. “You’re not what I expected.”

“Really? What were you expecting?”

“Someone beautiful and I got that part right. Your mother was beautiful and you look a lot like her.”

Alaina felt a flush rise up her neck at the compliment. “Thank you.”

“I can’t find any polite way of saying the rest, so I’ll just come out with it—I expected you to be a taskmistress.”

“Oh!” Alaina grinned. “There are some attorneys who would definitely support such a belief. So where did you get that idea—from Carter?”

Willa waved a hand in dismissal. “It’s no secret that Carter’s annoyed by this whole mess. It is rather a strange way to settle an estate, and I know there was no love lost between him and attorneys from his time spent in New Orleans. But I guess I thought you’d be rigid and humorless because William said you worked for the best firm in Baton Rouge. I figured if a young, beautiful woman was that successful, especially given the good ol’ boy network, that she must be a taskmistress.”

“I suppose there’s a lot of truth to that. You have to be very focused and driven to make a play in my field, especially in a male-dominated firm, and most of the oldest and most prestigious are.”

“But, dear, why would you want to pretend to be someone you’re not? You’re a bright, warm, interesting girl—why hide all that just to impress a bunch of men who probably aren’t worth the time anyway? You should concentrate on finding something to do that utilizes your skill and education but that allows
you
to be
you.
”

Alaina’s eyes began to mist and she swallowed, trying to get rid of the lump in her throat. It was exactly the sort of thing she imagined a mother might say to her daughter. She needed to reply, but was afraid that if she opened her mouth, she’d start crying.

“Oh, no!” Willa said. “I’ve upset you.”

“No,” Alaina said, finally finding her voice. “I’m just... I guess I’m not used to people looking past what I do and actually seeing me, much less caring that I’m happy with my life. It’s a little overwhelming and sad, all at the same time. I mean, my adoptive parents took care of me, but I never felt a real part of their family.”

Willa reached over to pat her knee. “You’re a wonderful girl, Alaina, but you’re going to have to tear down that wall you’ve built around you so that others can see. Not everyone is as perceptive as I am.” She grinned.

Alaina smiled. “No, you’re definitely one of a kind.”

“Don’t go telling her that.” Carter’s voice sounded behind her and Alaina jumped, then twisted her head around as he walked out onto the patio. He leaned over to kiss his mom on the forehead. “She already thinks she’s got mythical magical powers.”

Willa looked up at her son and sighed. “I don’t know how I managed to bring such an unimaginative man into this world,” she said, but Alaina could tell she was joking.

Carter smiled and pulled a chair up to join them. Alaina fidgeted a bit, wondering if Carter was going to talk about her situation in front of his mother. Willa had already insisted that she and Carter stay for dinner after he returned, and Alaina wasn’t sure she could sit through an entire meal wondering what he’d found, if anything.

“I figure Mom’s insisted on dinner,” he said, “so I’ll get the bad part out of the way.”

Alaina let out a breath of relief. “Oh, good. I mean, not good that it’s bad, but good that you’re getting it out of the way.”

“What did you find, Carter?” Willa asked.

“There was nothing wrong with the lights. Someone strung wire across the stair newel posts and then turned off the lights to draw you downstairs. They intended for you to fall—no question about it.”

Alaina sucked in a breath. “Oh, no! But how? No one is supposed to have access to the house but myself, Amos and William.”

“Other keys could be floating around,” Carter said. “Those locks are old and probably haven’t ever been changed.”

“But you’re going to do that, right?” Willa asked.

“Of course,” Carter assured her, “but it’s an old mansion with secret passageways stuck in the middle of a swamp that’s swallowed it up. We have to assume there are other ways in besides the obvious.”

Alaina bit her lip, her mind spinning with all the implications of Carter’s finding. “Would Amos know about secret entries?”

“Maybe. He wasn’t at home when I left the house, but as soon as I get a chance, I plan to quiz him on it.”

“And in the meantime,” Willa said, “you’re not letting her stay there alone, right?”

“Absolutely not,” Carter said. “I’ll pack a bag after dinner and take one of the upstairs rooms until we can figure this all out.”

Willa nodded and rose from her chair. “Then I best get the roast out and get you served. You’ve got a full night ahead of you.”

Alaina watched as Willa walked into the house, closing the patio door behind her. “Why is this happening?”

“I don’t know, but when we get to the house, you and I are going to have a serious discussion about potential suspects. I know you’ve been skirting around things since you got here, and I haven’t pushed because we all have things we’d rather not discuss. But we’re now past being polite. This is serious business.”

“I know.” She stared past him at the sun setting over the swamp. Here, in the cool breeze of the swamp cooler, with a glass of wonderful tea in her hand and a glorious sunset in front of her, she had been able to push the situation back far enough in her mind to slip into a moment of peace.

That moment was over.

Chapter Twelve

“Stay in my truck,” Carter said, “but move over to the driver’s seat. If I’m not back here in five minutes, then leave and go straight to the sheriff’s office for help.”

Alaina stared at Carter. “You can’t go in there by yourself.”

“You have the last two nights. It’s actually my job to protect the citizens of this town, and for the time being, that includes you. So wait.”

He jumped out of the truck, swinging the door shut behind him. Alaina watched as he walked in front of the vehicle, a grim look on his face. She waited until he disappeared inside the house, then slid over to the driver’s seat and clutched the steering wheel.

She tried counting to one hundred, then singing a song, but finally gave up and looked at her watch. Only two minutes had passed. She blew out a breath of relief. It had seemed like so much longer, and the absolute last thing she wanted to do was drive away and leave Carter inside the house with God knew what or who.

As the seconds ticked by and the front door remained closed, her anxiety grew. What if he didn’t come out before the five minutes were up? Would she be able to follow orders and drive away? She pulled her cell phone from her purse and cursed when she saw the no-service indicator.

Taking a deep breath, she looked at her watch again. Five more seconds. Four. Three. Two. One.

She gave the door one final look before starting the truck and putting it in gear. But before she pressed the accelerator, Carter hurried outside and pulled open the driver’s door.

“Well?” she asked, her foot still hovering over the accelerator.

“It appears okay. I’ll make a more thorough inspection once we’re secured inside.”

Alaina shut off the truck engine and followed Carter inside, mulling over the duplicity of “secured inside.” As things stood, she wasn’t sure she’d ever feel secure inside this house.

Carter tossed his duffel bag on the floor in the entry as soon as they walked inside, then turned to her. “First thing, I’m changing the door locks on the back door and the patio off the kitchen. The front door hardware is so old we’ll probably have to special-order it.”

Alaina nodded. “Let’s hope there are only a couple of keys to it. They are these huge iron things. Surely there aren’t that many.”

“I hope that’s the case. While I’m working on the laundry room exit, I want you to start inspecting all the rooms off the entry. Don’t go down any of the hallways or upstairs. I want you easily within yelling distance.”

“What am I looking for?”

“Any viable way to enter the house from the outside or to move through the house undetected. Servants’ passageways, windows that don’t lock—that sort of thing.”

She started to head across the entry but paused and dug her pistol out of her purse. “Just in case,” she said.

Carter gave her a single nod but didn’t seem remotely fazed that she was going to prowl around with a loaded weapon. It gave her a moment of pause that he felt the situation was serious enough to merit it, but she put her purse on the entry table and headed to the first room to begin her search.

The room was a bit on the small side, and Alaina couldn’t remember what it had been used for when she was a child. Now only two pieces of lonely furniture and a couple of boxes sat inside. She checked the windows, but both were nailed shut, with a thick coat of paint covering the nail heads. No one was coming in that way. The interior walls had peeling wallpaper, which would have easily shown a secret passageway.

The second room had become a haven for cardboard boxes, most of which had seen better days. She didn’t bother attempting to check behind the wall of boxes on the far side. Even if a passageway was located behind them, no one was coming through it without crashing through a stack of cardboard.

She moved from that room to the next and then the one after that, repeating the process as she made her way around all the rooms off the first-floor entry. The sound of Carter working on the door lock was reassuring. If something happened, he was only a dash away. But as the minutes passed into an hour and all she came up with was dust and evidence of some small four-legged creatures that she did not want to personally encounter, she began to get more frustrated than nervous.

Someone had been in the house with her—they knew it for certain—but what if they’d simply used a key and entered through the front or back doors? Maybe all this looking for secret passageways was a waste of time. Certainly, servants’ passages existed in the house as evidenced by the two Carter had already found, but those passages were used to move without being seen within a house, not from outside the house to inside of it and vice versa. If all the windows were locked and with new locks on the doors, surely whoever had managed to get in last night would no longer be able to terrorize her.

Unless they had a key to the front door.

No. She shook her head, putting that thought out of her mind, determined to believe that she’d be safe in the house from this point forward. Two weeks was nothing. She could manage two weeks of dust with ease.

She walked over to a window in the last room she had to check and stared out into the swamp that had swallowed up the massive backyard of the estate. In some ways, it was beautiful—all the layers of color and texture—but in other ways, it was cruel, overrunning everything in its path and swallowing it up until only remnants of the past remained.

The trailing, grasping vines bothered her more than she was willing to admit—made her feel claustrophobic as they pressed forward to consume the home. They felt alive somehow—not in the traditional way that they were alive—but alive and with a mind, as if they had a purpose and a plan for their progression.

“How’s it going?”

Carter’s voice sounded behind her and she whirled around. “Oh!”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said as he stepped into the room.

“No, it’s my fault for not paying better attention.”

He glanced out the window, then studied her for a couple of seconds. “You seemed engrossed with whatever you were looking at.”

She glanced out the window and tried to think of something sane to say as the thoughts that had been rolling through her mind did not sound remotely rational. “I was...uh...”

“It’s mesmerizing in a somewhat sinister way,” he said quietly. “The swamp, that is.”

She stared at him, dumbfounded. He’d captured her exact feeling so accurately, but never had she imagined that her fanciful thoughts would be shared by anyone else in Calais, especially Carter.

“I...I thought I was the only one...”

“Who felt the pull of the swamp?” Carter stepped next to her and looked out the window. “You’re not.”

She turned to look outside with him. “I guess I never figured you for the sort of person to believe in strange feelings.” She blew out a breath. “I’m not explaining myself well.”

“You don’t have to. It’s an uneasiness but with no obvious reason. Take right now, for instance—you should be more worried about what’s going on inside the house, but I’m guessing you’re more comfortable with the thought of sleeping inside tonight than walking across what used to be the back lawn in broad daylight.”

“Yes, that’s it exactly. But surely, you’re not afraid to walk through the swamp. You grew up here.”

He nodded. “I think it’s because I grew up here that I’m willing to accept that the swamps of Mystere Parish are not the same as other swamps. There are so many stories about the strange happenings in Mystere that it’s become impossible to separate truth from lore, but I imagine there’s truth in most every story.”

Despite the heat and humidity, a chill came over Alaina and she crossed her arms. “Voodoo stuff, I guess?” Rationally, she didn’t believe in voodoo as a force of its own—only as something that worked off the power of belief of the supposedly cursed—but whatever she’d seen hovering over her bed that first night was no voodoo curse.

“I’m done with the locks,” he said.

His voice broke into her fanciful thoughts, and she suddenly realized how close he stood to her. The bare skin of his arm scarcely brushed against her own bare skin and she could feel the heat coming off him. He was tall, but so was she, so their heads were only inches apart. She turned to look at him and found him looking directly at her. His jawline was covered with the shadow of emerging hair, making his chiseled cheeks and green eyes even more defined.

A rush of heat that had nothing to do with the humidity came over her, completely eclipsing her earlier chill. It would be so easy to lean in and press her lips to his. Despite his dislike of attorneys and his protests that he was only involved in her inheritance requirements because of his mother, she could tell he was attracted to her. It was in the way he looked at her when he thought she couldn’t see—the way he took care to avoid being near her, as if he didn’t trust himself.

Until now.

Her breath caught in her throat. Was he standing so close to her now because she’d been unnerved earlier and he was trying to comfort her, or was he feeling the pull to her the same as she was to him?

As if reading her mind, he took a step back and turned. “Let’s do a quick check of the upstairs,” he said. “We can do a more thorough search for passageways tomorrow. If he can’t get in, he can’t move around.”

Alaina nodded and Carter left the room. Had he felt it, as well? Or was she imagining that he felt more for her than he showed? It wouldn’t be the first time she’d thought a guy was interested in her only to find out he had a completely different agenda. Staring out the window again, she blew out a breath.

None of it mattered. At the end of two weeks, she was leaving Calais. Either way, the end was the same.

Always the same.

* * *

I
N
THE
BEDROOM
next to Alaina’s, Carter carefully pulled the dusty sheet from the bed and rolled it up into a ball, trying to avoid scattering more dust all over the room. Being a typical man, it hadn’t occurred to him to bring clean sheets with him, but fortunately, Alaina had gone through them all the day before, selecting the most worn for drop cloths and washing the rest in anticipation of her sisters’ stay.

The shower in the bathroom a couple of doors down came on, the spray clinking against the porcelain tub. Immediately, a vision of Alaina standing naked under that stream of water flashed in front of him, as vivid as a movie and much more stimulating than any Hollywood actress he’d ever seen.

He unfolded the clean sheet and flipped it over the bed, trying to distract his mind from dangerous thoughts. Alaina was beautiful and sexy, but she was also an attorney and an outsider. When her time in Calais was done, she’d move on to conquer the legal world, and he’d still be right here, standing in her dust.

So have a fling. It’s not like you haven’t done it before.

A valid argument, albeit likely spurred along by parts of his body other than his mind, but this time it was different. Alaina was at a crossroads with her personal life and her career when she’d come to Calais. Now her life was in danger. To make a move on her right now would be grossly unfair, given that she couldn’t possibly be thinking completely rationally.

A fling was fine as long as both parties were on the same page before getting started. But given the current situation, he was afraid that Alaina wasn’t capable of being on the same page. The last thing he wanted to do was add more negatives about Calais to the long list she already carted around with her.

He finished making the bed, then headed to Alaina’s bedroom to do a thorough search. The patio doors were secure and all the windows were locked. He ran his hands along all the walls, inspecting every inch, but didn’t see any place where an opening could exist. The closet was stacked high with boxes, so even if there was a passageway that led into the tiny space, it wasn’t accessible.

The room was secure, but he still wasn’t happy about it. If he could get away with it, he’d drag his mattress in here and sleep in the same room, but he knew Alaina would balk at the suggestion. And it was just as well because the risk to their emotions might be higher than danger to Alaina’s person.

As he closed the closet door, his cell phone rang. Rob. He frowned as he answered the call, already knowing that the attorney hadn’t called him at 11:00 p.m. just to chat, especially given their last conversation.

“What’s up, Rob?” Carter answered.

“Got—information—need to know—important.”

The static on the line cut into the conversation. “Hold on, Rob. You’re cutting out.” But the gist of Rob’s conversation had been clear. Carter needed to get a better signal.

He pushed open the patio doors and stepped out onto the balcony. The signal bar went up one notch. “Can you hear me, Rob?”

“Yeah. That’s better. Our conversation the other night kept nagging at me, so I called in a favor with a local cop I play poker with and had him check on the principals.”

“I take it you didn’t like what he found.”

“No. Steven Adams, the father of the girl who accused Warren of molesting her, hasn’t been to work for a week. His wife says he’s in and out of the house, but she’s sketchy on the times and dates that he’s home.”

“Is she covering for him?”

“My buddy says she looks scared, but it’s hard to know if that’s because she’s covering or because she doesn’t know what he’s up to.”

“Either way, that’s not good.”

“It gets worse. The father of the girl who was murdered after Warren was found not guilty, Larry Colbert, is a pharmaceutical sales rep. He was supposed to be at a convention in New Orleans for a week, but he never showed. His wife filed a missing-person report a couple of days ago.”

Carter gripped the cell phone and tried to think. Two major players in the same tragedy—one missing and one with a sketchy alibi.

“Carter? You still there?”

“Yeah...just thinking.”

“This looks really bad, man.”

“I know.”

“My buddy’s name is Aaron Baker. I told him who you were and why I wanted the information. If you need anything, he said to tell you to call him directly. I’ll text you his information.”