The Accused (4 page)

Chapter Four

Alaina felt as though she’d waited forever, but finally Carter emerged from one of the back hallways and into the massive entry room. She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding and felt the tightness in her chest release. Then she realized that he’d just entered the room from the first floor but hadn’t used either of the stairwells to get down from the second floor.

“How did you get downstairs?” she asked as he approached.

He frowned. “A servant’s stairwell in the master bedroom. It led to the laundry room off the back of the house.”

“How many hidden passages are in this house?”

“More than I’ve found so far, I’d guess.” He didn’t look happy about it.

“Did you see anyone...? I mean, I guess you didn’t, but did you see any sign that someone had been up there?”

“No.”

“But?”

He sighed. “But I don’t believe in fanciful things like ghosts and I have perfect vision. I saw something on that landing.”

“An animal maybe?”

“It was too large to be any animal that would be in the house and I couldn’t find tracks on the landing.”

She swallowed. “Then maybe it was a shadow. With that enormous glass ceiling and the storm brewing, couldn’t it have created a moving shadow that looked like a person?”

“I suppose,” he said, but didn’t seem convinced. “Look, maybe you shouldn’t stay here just yet.”

His suggestion was tempting, especially given that she was completely creeped out, but it wasn’t conducive to the reason she was there.

“Is there a hotel in town?” she asked, wondering if spending the night in a hotel and milling among the locals the rest of the day would give whoever was lurking in the house the notice to clear out—assuming it was a human in the first place. Rats, raccoons and storm clouds probably wouldn’t care about the local gossip.

“No hotel. No rental property either. Calais is a small spot on the map and a dead end at that. People don’t come here unless they intend to, so there’s not much call for hotels and such. New Orleans is only a little over an hour’s drive, though.” He looked hopeful as he delivered that last statement.

She could do it—probably should do it—but the thought of packing everything back in her SUV and spending another hour plus on the road didn’t sound even remotely appealing. If she thought it would change something, she might consider it, but staying in New Orleans wouldn’t create any local gossip at all. It would only be delaying the inevitable.

She sighed. “I appreciate your concern, but if you saw something tangible, my staying in New Orleans for a night isn’t going to make it clear out. And it’s just one more day I’ll have to make up staying here.”

“It would give me a chance to poke around some more.”

“You’re welcome to do that while I’m here. In fact, as I’ll be the one living here for two weeks, I’d prefer it if I did it with you.”

She could tell by the way his jaw flexed that he didn’t like it. The attorney had already warned her that the sheriff who’d agreed to the terms of the will had long since passed. While the new sheriff had agreed to meet the terms of the will, he was neither under any legal obligation to do so, nor was he being paid for his time.

His babysitting comment earlier had left her no doubt as to how he felt about his assignment. She sympathized with his position, but ultimately it wasn’t her problem. If he didn’t want to deal with it any longer, Alaina was certain Mr. Duhon would find someone else.

Finally, he blew out a breath. “Okay, then the first thing we should do is locate a bedroom for you that is easily secured. No servants’ passages and a good, sturdy lock.”

“One with a connecting bath would be best.”

“I agree. The master bedroom has a connecting bath but also several ways in and out.”

She crossed her arms over her chest, as if to ward off the unease she felt at the thought of sleeping in the same bed that her dead stepfather had slept in. “I wouldn’t want to sleep in there anyway.”

“I don’t blame you. Let’s check downstairs first.”

Alaina nodded and walked to the left side of the entry as Carter took the right. A careful inspection of the downstairs rooms did not reveal any equipped as a bedroom.

“We could move some bedroom furniture downstairs,” Carter suggested as they met at the back of the entry.

She shook her head. “There’s no connecting bath for any of the rooms. There’s a half bath off the kitchen, but that’s the only one I’ve seen downstairs so far.”

“There’s another off the laundry room.”

She blew out a breath. “Both of those are hallways away from these rooms, and I can hardly put a bed in the middle of the kitchen or the laundry room, or shower in the sink.”

“No. Neither of those rooms is secure anyway. They both have wide entries with no doors.”

“Probably to make carrying laundry and food easier.”

“Which doesn’t help us at all.”

“Then I guess I’ll have to stay upstairs.”

He motioned toward the spiral stairwell. “After you.”

As she walked up the stairs, she looked out the glass ceiling. The clouds overhead swirled, creating constantly shifting patterns of light and shadows.

“That storm looks like it’s going to be bad,” she said as they stepped onto the landing.

“It doesn’t look like a mild one,” he agreed. “I can’t believe that glass ceiling is still intact. We had a horrible storm last week—lots of lightning and hail even.”

“It’s got a panel that covers it. I accidentally opened it thinking it was a switch for the lights. It didn’t sound like it had been used in some time.”

Carter looked up and frowned. “Your stepfather was a recluse. Maybe he didn’t like the light either.”

Preferring to lurk in the shadow like most monsters.

She shook her head. Now was not the time for fanciful thoughts, especially those that might scare her once she was alone in this house in the dark. She had no concrete memory of her stepfather, but she knew she’d feared him. That was all she wanted to know.

“I just hope it closes,” she said.

“Let’s not borrow trouble,” he said and pointed to a hallway on the left side of the landing. “I saw several bedrooms that direction when I was up here earlier. Let’s see if one works.”

By unspoken agreement, they each took a side of the hall and began inspecting the bedrooms. Alaina made it to the door centered at the end of the hall before Carter. She stepped inside and sucked in a breath.

This was it. The bedroom she’d shared with her sisters.

It was situated directly over the kitchen area and just as large. Her memories were fuzzy, but she could remember the single beds and crib, all decked out in pink and white. White dressers stood against the wall across from the beds. The beds and dressers were long gone, but against the far wall stood two wooden school desks.

She crossed the room and ran her fingers over the dusty desktop. A chill coursed through her when she felt the indentations in the corner. It had been restained and lacquered when she was a child—her punishment had been scrubbing the marble floors downstairs for a week by hand—but even the new stain and lacquer hadn’t erased the single word she’d carved in the corner with her scissors.

Help.

“Is everything okay?” Carter’s voice sounded behind her, causing her to spin around.

“Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to startle you.” He studied her for a couple of seconds. “Is something wrong?”

“No,” she said, straining to keep herself from sounding as anxious as she felt. “Just coming face-to-face with old ghosts.”

She forced a small smile. “I suppose I should get used to it, right?”

He looked around the room and she had no doubt he noticed the desks and other remnants that marked the room as occupied by children. “I guess it’s strange coming back here after so long. You must have a lot of memories of this place.”

“Not really. To be honest, I barely remember anything about my childhood. I should because I was old enough to, but it’s as if it’s been erased.”

“Perhaps it was too painful to deal with, so you locked away those memories.”

A bit of relief washed over her. “Yes, I think you’re right. You’re very intuitive.”

“Not really,” he said, looking slightly uncomfortable. “It just seems logical given the circumstances back then.”

She studied him for a moment. It was the first time since she’d met him that she got the feeling he was lying to her. As an attorney, she had a highly honed ability to detect untruth.

“Looks like the dam is breaking. I guess that’s something else I’ll have to deal with,” she said, pushing all thought of Carter and his potential ulterior motives from her mind. Whatever Carter was hiding was none of her business. She barely knew the man and that was the way things were going to stay.

He nodded and scanned the room again. “It looks like this is the only one with serviceable furniture, but if you don’t feel comfortable staying in here...”

“No, this will be fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“It doesn’t require moving furniture and is as secure as any other option, right?”

“Assuming the locks work properly, yes.” He walked to the doorway and checked the lock, then crossed the room to open the French doors that led onto a balcony overlooking the backyard.

She stepped out to join him. The square lines of cypress trees were the only indicators of the lawn that used to exist. Now it was as if the entire area had been swallowed up by the swamp that surrounded it. Marsh grass and weeds grew as high as a person, and scraggly shrubs had spouted up in random patterns. Vines clung to everything capable of supporting their weight and when nothing was available, they ran across the ground, mixing in with the moss to make a mottled carpet of green.

“It’s not very inviting,” she said, trying to shake the uneasy feeling that the swamp gave her.

She’d expected Carter to provide another logical explanation—one that she could lock on to and carry over the next two weeks—but instead, he stared silently out across the tangle of undergrowth. Finally, he spoke. “The swamps of Mystere Parish aren’t like other places, not even like other swamps.”

“What do you mean?”

He shook his head. “Can’t say exactly. It’s just a feeling, really, that something isn’t right. Swamps in Mystere Parish are quieter than most and have more than their share of unexplained phenomena.”

“The legends and lore of Creoles?”

“I’m sure that’s some of it, but I’m not much for old wives’ tales or stories told to scare kids into minding their mothers. Still, I don’t much like spending time in the swamp.” He looked her straight in the eyes. “I’m not trying to tell you what to do, but you probably shouldn’t venture out there. Too many lethal things could be lurking just past your back door and not a single one of them the kind of thing legends are made from.”

Despite the heat of the evening, a slight chill ran over her and she crossed her arms. “You don’t have to worry about that for a second. You couldn’t pay me enough to go in there.”

He nodded. “Well, the locks on both doors are fine. I wish we could have found a room closer to the stairwell...”

His voice trailed off and Alaina realized he hadn’t wanted to alarm her by finishing his sentence, but she had little doubt what he was thinking.

“In case I need to get out in a hurry,” she finished for him.

He frowned. “I don’t want to scare you unnecessarily, but I’d be lying if I said I liked you staying out here alone.”

“I thought there was a caretaker.”

“Amos lives in his own cabin.” He pointed across what used to be the back lawn. “It’s somewhere in that mess. Even if he heard or saw anything from his cabin, age and physical conditioning are working against him. He wouldn’t be much help.”

She leaned over the balcony and was relieved to see a stone walkway below that led around to the front of the house. It was a bit overgrown with vines but still visible.

“No worries,” she said as she straightened back up. “If things get hairy, I’ll go right over the balcony and run for my SUV.”

Carter glanced over the balcony and raised his eyebrows. “You’re going to jump from the second floor then run?”

“I went to college on a track-and-field scholarship. Almost made the Olympic team. The drop from the railing is no worse than the high jump, and trust me, if it’s a footrace with anything on two legs, I can take them.”

His lips quivered for a moment, then broke into a slow smile. “That’s good to know, but if it’s all the same, I’m going to hope you don’t have to back up those words.”

She smiled. “Me, too, but if it’s all the same, I may sleep with tennis shoes on.”

“Well, then, it looks like we have a plan.” He stepped back toward the door to the bedroom and motioned her inside. He stood just outside the doorway, waiting for her to pass. As she stepped past him, her arm brushed across his chest and she felt a tingle deep inside. Even though it had been a tiny bit of contact, it had left no doubt that underneath the worn T-shirt and jeans contained a ripped body built for action.

Maybe she needed to revise her earlier statement. She might not be able to take Carter in a footrace, but then, depending on the reason he was chasing her, she might not run.

She shook her head to clear it from thoughts that had no business being there. Had it really been that long since she’d enjoyed the company of a man that she was fantasizing about the first eligible one she ran across? She’d ended a three-year relationship eight months before and hadn’t been interested in pursuing another. Or maybe her last relationship had left her so jaded about men—particularly good-looking ones—that she had been intentionally avoiding them.

Funny how she’d managed to do just that in Baton Rouge, the capital of the state, but the second she set foot in a town with less population than her condominium complex, she came face-to-face with the only man who had piqued her interest since her ex.

Carter closed and locked the French doors behind them. “Let me help you get your things up here.”

“Oh, that’s okay. I brought only one suitcase of personal things. The rest goes to the kitchen. It will give me something to do.” She hoped he’d leave her to it. With her imagination in overdrive and her memory rapid-firing without warning and her obvious attraction to the sheriff, she felt too vulnerable. And she didn’t like that feeling.