Diabolical (Shaye Archer Series Book 3) (12 page)

“I think a car was following me,” she said when he answered.

“What? When? Did you get a good look?”

“About ten minutes ago, a black Mercedes S-Class, and I got a partial plate.”

“Give it to me.”

She recited what she had of the license plate number. “I think the same car might be sitting a block away from my house. The headlights and shape and color of the car are the same. I just can’t see enough to be certain.”

“Did anyone get out of the car?”

“No.”

“Okay. Do not go outside your house, and make sure your alarm is on. You’ve got your pistol, right? Keep an eye on that car and if anyone gets out and moves toward your house, call 911. I’m going to call this plate in and I’m headed over there right now.”

Jackson disconnected the call and Shaye placed her cell phone on the windowsill, not taking her eyes off the car. There was still no movement from inside, and the longer they sat there, the more strange it seemed. The area the car was parked in front of contained a couple of businesses that had closed hours ago, leaving no reason for anyone to be parked there at this time of night.

A couple minutes later, Jackson called her back.

“Got it,” he said. “We lucked out. There’s only one black Mercedes S-Class with that combination on the plate. The car is registered to a Wayne Moody. Lives in the Garden District.”

A flush of anger rose from Shaye’s chest and onto her face. She knew exactly who Wayne Moody was and exactly why he was sitting outside her home. “He’s a private investigator,” she told Jackson, “and he works for my grandfather. I’m going back on my word. I need to step outside for a minute.”

“Wait—”

She hung up before Jackson could argue and left the phone on her windowsill. She hurried into the kitchen, turned off the alarm, and slipped out the side door into the courtyard, locking it behind her. She headed to the back wall of the courtyard, pulled the small bistro table over to the brick wall that closed off the courtyard to the street behind it, and used the table to vault herself over the wall and into the parking area behind her apartment.

She jogged down the street for two blocks, then went over a block, crossing the street at the same time as a car, ducking down behind it as it went. The other side of the street had a long hedge that covered half of the block, so she slipped behind it and headed toward the Mercedes. When she got to the end of the hedge, she peered out and could see the two figures still sitting inside. The passenger’s window was rolled down and a man’s arm was propped on the door.

She clutched her pistol and crept out of the hedge, then covered the ten yards to the car as quickly and quietly as possible. When she stepped up to the window and lowered her pistol at the men, they both jumped.

“What the hell, you crazy bitch!” the man on the passenger’s side yelled at her.

Shaye stared down at him, but she’d never seen him before. She leaned down and looked at the driver. Wayne Moody. “You wanna tell your partner who he just called a crazy bitch?”

Moody’s eyes widened. “Shaye? What are you doing here?”

“I live here, which I’m sure you already know. Now I’m going to ask you the same thing.”

Moody puffed up his chest. Now that his initial shock had worn off, he was going to get belligerent, his usual stance. “If you must know, we’re on a case, and I don’t appreciate this interference.”

His partner stared back and forth between the two of them, clearly having no idea how to handle the situation. Shaye shook her head. “You’re on a case all right,” she said, “and I’ll interfere all I want when that case is me. This isn’t going to happen, Moody. Not by you or anyone else Pierce pays. You can either start your car, go home, and tell my grandfather this ludicrous plan of his won’t work, or I’ll report you for stalking to the detective who’s on his way here now.”

Moody flushed and he straightened up in his seat. “Stalking? You can’t do that.”

“You want to try me?”

Moody stared at her for several seconds, and Shaye knew he was weighing Pierce’s anger over the prospect of being arrested. Not a good look for private detectives, and it usually didn’t buy you any friends down at the police department. Pierce’s anger or money must not have been enough to trump potential long-term career problems, because he shot her a disgusted look and pulled away from the curb, tires squealing as he left.

Shaye was halfway back to her apartment when Jackson’s truck pulled up beside her. “He left?” Jackson asked, glancing up and down the street.

“I offered him the option to leave or be arrested for stalking.”

Jackson laughed. “I bet that pissed him off plenty.”

“It’s going to piss him off more when Pierce gets a hold of him. I’m sorry you came all the way over here for my family drama.”

“I needed to be sure. Besides, it’s not that far and I’m not sleepy. Anyway, I got a laugh out of it, and those are getting harder to come by these days.”

“So true. Well, since my blood pressure is through the roof, I’m going to make a root beer float and try to calm down enough to sleep. I’d be glad to fix one for you. After all, you ran a plate and attempted to come to my rescue after hours. It’s the least I can do.”

Jackson smiled. “A root beer float sounds great, but I won’t stay long. I know it’s hard, but you need to get some rest. So do I.”

“You might change your mind about that when you hear about my day.”

“You found out something?”

“I found out a lot of somethings. Not enough to launch us forward, but it’s a start. A really good start.”

“I like the sound of that.”

“Come in then. Moonlight’s wasting.”

M
onday
, July 27, 2015

A
t 10
:00 a.m., Shaye punched in the code to open the gate to her mother’s home and drove through the tall iron spires as it swung open. Pierce’s car was already parked in the circular drive, so she pulled in behind him and made her way inside. Her mother’s and grandfather’s voices carried from the kitchen to the front entry, and she could tell by the elevated levels of both volume and pitch that the conversation wasn’t an agreeable one.

She shut the front door a bit loudly and all talking ceased. When she walked into the kitchen, they were both standing on the other side of the counter, their bodies squared off at each other. They looked at her and smiled, but Shaye could tell that both were forcing it. “Problems in paradise?” she asked.

“No, of course not,” Corrine said, but the tone of her voice said differently.

Whatever was going on between the two of them, Shaye didn’t even want to know, especially as they were probably arguing over her. She was definitely here to raise some hell, but it was going to be on her terms.

“You said you needed to talk to us?” Pierce asked her. “Is there something we can help you with?”

Shaye grabbed a cookie off the plate on the counter and took a seat at the counter. “Yeah, you can help me by calling off Wayne Moody and any other of your monkeys you were thinking of sending to follow me.”

Shaye watched Corrine’s face, certain she’d be able to tell by her mother’s reaction whether or not she knew about the tail Pierce had put on Shaye. Her dismay as she whipped around to glare at her father was unmistakable.

“You didn’t,” Corrine said.

Pierce pulled his shoulders back and Shaye could almost see him digging the heels of his dress shoes into the tile floor. “I did what was necessary,” he said.

“You invaded my privacy,” Shaye said, “and disrespected my wishes. And you almost got Moody arrested for stalking. I won’t let the next one go that easily. And just so you know, when I leave here, I’m going to the police station and Detective Lamotte is going to have his forensics team sweep my car for tracking devices. I’d hate to tell them who’s responsible for anything we find, so you’re on notice for that one too.”

Corrine shook her head at her father. “You should have stuck with that whole castle idea instead.”

Shaye frowned. “What castle idea?”

“Your grandfather thought he could tempt us out of the country by buying a castle.”

Shaye nodded. “I agree. You should have gone with the castle plan.”

Pierce perked up. “You would have gone?”

“No,” Shaye said, “but I wouldn’t be mad at you, either.”

Pierce looked from Corrine to Shaye and sighed. “You’ve got to be reasonable. I’m not the kind of man who sits around waiting for things to happen, especially when those things involve the safety of my daughter and granddaughter.” He narrowed his eyes at Corrine. “I would expect a bit more sympathy from you of all people.”

“Oh, I have plenty of sympathy for your position,” Corrine said. “I just don’t condone your actions.”

Pierce threw his hands in the air, clearly exasperated. “How can you say that? How can you sit here knowing Shaye is running around the city, looking into things best left forgotten?”

“Best for whom?” Shaye asked.

Pierce appeared momentarily taken aback. “Well, for you, of course. You’ve already been through enough. I don’t want you to suffer anything you don’t have to.”

“Not knowing
is
suffering,” Shaye said quietly.

“Damn it.” Pierce ran his hand through his hair. “What do you want me to say—that if I could find the guy who did those things to you, I’d kill him with my bare hands? I would. I tried, Shaye. Back when you first came to live with Corrine, I hired every private investigator in New Orleans. I flew a couple in from other states who were supposed to be experts in this sort of crime. Whatever the hell ‘this sort of crime’ is supposed to imply. They couldn’t find anything. So I let it go. I didn’t have another choice.”

“You didn’t have another choice then,” Shaye said, “but things are different now. We know who my biological mother is and that Clancy sold me to that animal.”

“But that doesn’t tell us anything about him,” Pierce said. “And this morning I find out he has another girl.”

He slumped onto a stool, and Shaye felt a twinge of guilt at his helpless expression. She knew he meant well, but Pierce Archer wasn’t used to problems that couldn’t be solved with money. He also wasn’t used to losing, and Shaye knew he saw this as exactly that—a loss on his record.

“Yesterday, I found the house I lived in with Lydia,” Shaye said.

Corrine clutched the counter and stared at Shaye. “Oh my God. How?”

“I had a little help from Hustle,” Shaye said. “A lady at Lydia’s old apartment complex was willing to talk to him. She wouldn’t even admit to me that she knew who Lydia was.”

Corrine nodded. “It’s hard to get information. There’s so much fear of law enforcement and government agencies. Where is the house?”

“In the Ninth Ward. It’s abandoned and needs to be bulldozed, but at least it was still standing.” Shaye looked from Pierce to Corrine. “I remember it.”

Corrine’s hand flew over her mouth and Pierce’e eyes widened.

“You remember?” Corrine said. “Oh, Shaye. Are you okay?”

Shaye nodded. “It was only flashes of memory—things like wallpaper, a closet, and a window, but it’s a start. Don’t you see, if I can remember that night, then I’ll know where I escaped from. We can finally catch him.”

Corrine moved around the counter and hugged Shaye tightly. “If there was any way I could take this burden from you, I would.”

Shaye’s hugged her mother and kissed her cheek. “I know you would.”

Corrine released Shaye and moved back enough so that she could look at her. Tears pooled in the corners of her eyes, threatening to fall over. “I’m so afraid for you,” Corrine said. “I want this to be over, but I don’t want you to hurt anymore.”

Shaye reached out and took her mother’s hands in hers. “I won’t tell you not to worry because there’s no point, but when you start worrying, remember that I have you and grandfather and Eleonore. No matter what happens, I’m going to be fine. You won’t let me be any other way.”

Corrine managed a small smile. “I
can
be a bit bossy.”

Shaye raised one eyebrow. “A bit?”

“Just a scootch.” Corrine glanced over at Pierce. “And while I don’t condone what your grandfather did, hearing that you’re traipsing around the Ninth Ward with only a 15-year-old boy as backup is something I’m not going to let slide. You can’t take those kinds of chances. With Clancy all over the news, we have to assume that monster knows about the journals. He’s left you alone all this time, but this could be the thing that puts him on alert. Promise me you won’t go anywhere unsafe without proper backup.”

Shaye looked over her mother’s shoulder and into the backyard. Corrine had hit on the one thing Shaye had as well. That Clancy’s exposure might prompt her captor to make a move. Going to the house yesterday with Hustle had been a serious miscalculation on her part. She wasn’t going to make that mistake again.

“I’d be happy to furnish a bodyguard,” Pierce said. “Someone entirely at your disposal. If you need him, you use him. If not, he can sit and wait until he’s needed.”

“No,” Shaye said. “I appreciate the offer, but I wouldn’t be able to think straight with some stranger hulking around behind me. If I return to the house or go anywhere else sketchy, I’ll have Jackson go with me. Will that work?”

Pierce frowned. “So it’s ‘Jackson’ now, not Detective Lamotte? Is there anything you’d like to tell me about that?”

“He’s a friend and I trust him,” Shaye said. “That’s all there is to it.”

It wasn’t exactly a lie. The part beyond friends was only in the contemplating stage. It was serious contemplation, but none of that was something her grandfather needed to know. Corrine already had her suspicions, but she’d been smart enough to remain relatively silent on the subject.

“Well, at least give me the address for the house,” Pierce said. “I’ll find out who the owner is and buy the damned thing before it’s torn down.”

Shaye gave him the address and he made a note on his phone.

“I’ll have my attorney get right on this,” Pierce said. “In fact, I’m going to text him now.”

He looked so pleased to finally be doing something that Shaye couldn’t help but smile. She really did have the best of everything. Her start in this world might have been a really crappy one, but her finish was going to be amazing.

* * *

H
e watched
as they entered the hotel and waited a while before following them inside, where he headed for the bar. He’d been here once before and knew the bar offered a decent view of the restaurant. Without the mask, he felt naked, but even with the oddities of New Orleans, it wasn’t the sort of thing you wore into the Ritz-Carlton. He stepped up to the bar and ordered a club soda. No alcohol for him. Impurities clogged your mind and spirit. The One liked pure vessels with which to operate. That’s why the girls had to be young, still innocent. Ruining innocence was the One’s purpose on earth and as his facilitator, the man did everything possible to see that the One was never disappointed.

The bartender slid the glass in front of him, and he took it and walked around the tables of people and the couches. It was fairly crowded, which made it easier for him to disappear. As he walked, he snatched glimpses of the restaurant, searching the patrons for Shaye and her date, Detective Jackson Lamotte. The man frowned. Lamotte hadn’t been around when Shaye escaped, so he could offer no contribution to her past. Not firsthand, anyway. But the detective was becoming a problem.

Lamotte was clever and he was clearly enamored of the girl. That gave her the backup she needed to pursue her past without hesitating and with access to things she wouldn’t have otherwise—like Clancy’s journals. The news reports claimed Clancy had used code for the journals, but if the cops broke that code, they might be able to locate him. They might also know about his recent purchase. And if the cops found out that Shaye was one of Clancy’s products, then he had no doubt Lamotte would provide her with that information.

Detective Lamotte needed to go along with the others.

He walked along the far end of the bar and glanced over at the restaurant again, and that’s when he caught sight of them. She was wearing a blue dress and her hair was on top of her head—one of those fancy styles that wealthy women seemed to like. The dress, fancy hairdo, and makeup weren’t her norm, nor was the suit Lamotte wore normal for him. It was clear by the chairs slid closely together and the intimate looks they shared with each other that tonight wasn’t about work.

He’d suspected the two would progress to something deeper than friendship, and that it would ultimately be a problem for him, but now he had proof. Lamotte leaned over and whispered something to Shaye and she smiled. He picked something off the table and handed it to her and when she took it, the man realized it was a room card.

So tonight was all about romance.

He set his glass on the nearest table and headed out of the hotel. The security at the Ritz was excellent and there were cameras everywhere, leaving him no opportunity to act and escape without being recorded, assuming he could bypass all the security checkpoints in the first place. No, this was not the time or place. It was too difficult and too risky. He’d wait until they were vulnerable. Shaye’s apartment was secure and her mother’s estate was a fortress, but both Shaye and Jackson left their homes, sometimes working in questionable areas.

Staging a carjacking on Shaye would be a simple enough matter. The cop was harder. A single bullet from a distance was the safest option, but not the choice of killing for the One. Perhaps an exception could be made. Maybe penance would be enough. He wasn’t necessarily worried about suspicion falling on him. After all, cops got killed all the time and their enemies were too many to list. But killing the cop and the girl at the same time would definitely raise more red flags, which he was trying to avoid. So tonight, they were safe, but the night wouldn’t be a total loss. He had other liabilities to eliminate.

He walked out of the hotel and around the corner where he’d parked. Tonight wasn’t the night for Shaye, but it had to be soon.

Before she remembered.