The Secret of Cypriere Bayou. Jana DeLeon
I got the impression he liked what he saw. Described her and her car pretty well and seemed certain when Harrison showed him the picture.”
“But no indication of where she was going?”
The captain hesitated. “He says she asked about Cypriere.”
“Damn! I knew it. Now, are you going to get a warrant?”
“I hung up with the district attorney right before you called. It’s thin, probably not enough for a warrant, but he’s going to ask one of the judges for a favor given this is a cop’s family. The judge has a cousin who went missing twenty years ago and was never found. The D.A. thinks he’ll be sympathetic.”
“How soon can we get access?” If he didn’t have to hide, he could flood the house and grounds with men and equipment. No sneaking around and making excuses. No more hiding behind a stepladder or a chain saw.
“The judge he thinks will give the warrant is out of town for two days.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me! Tell him to get another judge.”
“There isn’t another judge who’s willing to put his neck out. The D.A.’s already asked around on this and been told no. There’s entirely too many things that could have happened to Rachel between that filling station and wherever she was headed. Unless someone can put her in Cypriere, then none of the other judges are willing to risk it.”
“I don’t have to tell you how much time has passed.”
“No, you don’t. I don’t like it any more than you do, but I have to tell you John that if you do anything to risk this investigation, it will not be good for your career. Do not go near that property until we have a warrant. Are we clear?”
“Crystal.”
“I mean it, Landry. Do not set foot in Cypriere.”
“No problem.” John closed the phone. He hadn’t really lied. He had no intention of setting foot in Cypriere, the town. If his sister was going to be found, he had a feeling it would be at laMalediction.
He tucked the phone into his pocket and headed downstairs. There had been no sign of Rachel on the second floor, so he’d save the attic until last. The basement was his next destination and he’d seen an access door in the kitchen. He hurried into the kitchen and almost collided with Olivia.
A camera slipped in her hands, and she clutched it to keep from dropping it. He grabbed her shoulders to steady both of them. “Sorry. I keep forgetting there’s someone else here.” He looked down at the camera and blinked. “Nice camera.”
Olivia frowned. “Yeah, it is. I found it in the cabinet when I was putting up my supplies. I thought maybe it was yours. I was coming to ask.”
John’s pulse began to race. He’d bought that exact model for his sister for Christmas. “No, but maybe the old caretaker kept it here to take pictures for Wheeler.”
Olivia shrugged and handed him the camera. “Maybe so. Guess you’ll need it then. I’d start with that ceiling upstairs if I were you. It didn’t come down by itself. If there’s a leak somewhere it can get way worse for you.”
John took the camera and turned it on, pleased that the batteries were good. “You’re absolutely right. I think I’ll do that now.” He left the kitchen, studying the display on the camera. Twenty-two pictures stored.
Maybe one of them would give him a clue to finding Rachel.
Chapter Five
Olivia trudged up the stairs, holding a printout on John Landry that she’d received from Wheeler. She planned to read it again while soaking in a hot bath, but her initial review had shown nothing even remotely questionable. It had taken her an hour to set up her equipment and another hour to finally acquire a decent enough satellite connection to download the documents, but at least that part of the necessary work was done. With any luck, the bath would revive her and she might get a second wind and do a little work that night.
She entered the bedroom and went to retrieve her change of clothes from her suitcase on the bed and that’s when she saw it—a small, framed, black-and-white photo lying on top of her luggage. She whirled around and looked into the bathroom, then checked in the hall but saw nothing. Maybe John had left it there when he was doing his repair inspection. Maybe he’d moved it so it wouldn’t be damaged and forgot to replace it.
Except for the fact that there had not been a single photo in the room the night before, it was a perfectly logical theory. She started to set the photo on the nightstand to deal with it later, but then took a good look at the picture. It was a woman in a fancy dress, and had to have been taken a long, long time ago, sometime well before the turn of the century. But the preserved nature of the photo was not what made her gasp.
The woman looked just like her.
Olivia clutched the photo and sucked in a breath, both frightened and excited at the same time. She’d come here looking for answers. Maybe she was finally going to get them. She felt her stomach roll. Who was helping her? That picture hadn’t appeared out of nowhere, and it was no coincidence that it had been left in her room.
John was the logical choice. He’d been upstairs working all day. Maybe he’d seen the photo and thought she would find the resemblance interesting. That must be it. A completely logical explanation, for a change.
Maybe.
But then, if they were the only people in the house, who had moved the lamp or, for that matter, entered her bedroom the night before while she was bathing.
She stepped into the hallway and called out. “John. Are you still working up here?” No answer was forthcoming, nor could she make out any noise at all. In fact, now that she thought about it she realized she hadn’t heard a peep since he’d accosted her in the kitchen and left with the camera.
She slipped the papers on John into a drawer in the nightstand, grabbed the photo and headed back down to the library. While dusting, she’d noticed several photo albums on the bookcases. If they were labeled, she might be able to identify the woman in the photo. She grabbed several of the heavy albums off the bookcases and laid them on the table.
The first one contained color photos and was clearly far too recent. The second book was close to the right era, but the woman was not in any of the photos. In the third book, she hit pay dirt. An eight by ten photo of a woman and a man standing in front of laMalediction. The woman was wearing a different dress, but there was no mistaking the facial features and the hair. This was the woman from the photo.
Franklin and Marilyn Borque, 1861.
Olivia felt a chill pass over her. No, it couldn’t possibly be.
“Must be interesting.” John’s voice sounded behind her and she jumped.
“Oh my God,” Olivia said, her heart racing. “I didn’t even hear you come in.”
He raised his eyebrows. “I wasn’t exactly sneaking.”
“No, I’m not saying that. I guess it was interesting.” She looked up at the man, standing in the doorway and bit her lip. Did she come out and ask him if he was messing with her or keep her cards hidden? What if he said it wasn’t him? Would she know if he was lying? So far, John Landry seemed a bit of an enigma.
“Look at this,” she said and lifted up the photo album before she could change her mind.
John looked at the photo, then her, then back at the photo. “Wow. No wonder you didn’t hear me. You look just like her.”
Olivia blew out a breath she didn’t even realize she’d been holding. “So you see it, too?”
“Hard to miss. Just a little different in the eyes, but really close. Is she a relative?”
Olivia shook her head. “Not that I’m aware of, but then I don’t know anything about my family.”