“Sounds fun. I’ll get back to you.” Jean paused and cleared her throat, then said, “I hear you’ve been seeing one of the new owners. Just can’t get that plantation out of your blood, huh?”
Kendall was left speechless for a moment. She forced a light tone when she replied. “I guess that’s it. Thanks, Jean, we’ll talk soon.”
She hung up. “Why does everyone think I was expecting to get that plantation?” she asked Vinnie with aggravation.
“Gee, let’s see. You were everything to Amelia, you took care of her, and no one knew any heirs existed. How’s that?” Vinnie suggested.
“Look, there’s a customer, Vinnie. Go help her.”
Behind the counter, Kendall took out the sketchbook she’d been filling with designs for the decorations. She’d started out with a basic sketch of the interior of the barn, then added in the stage and even made notes about wiring, then begun to plan what decorations would go where. At around five-thirty, the phone rang, and she picked it up absently.
“Kendall, it’s Joe Ballentine. Sheila’s boss. At the Society, you know.”
“Hi, Joe,” Kendall said, her heart sinking. All day she’d hoped to hear from Sheila, too afraid to make the call herself. If Joe was calling, it couldn’t be good.
“I’m just wondering if you’ve heard from Sheila. She didn’t come back to work this morning, and she’s not answering her phone. She might have taken a few more days or been delayed, but I have to admit I’m worried.”
Kendall felt as if someone had just tied a rock around her heart and dropped it.
She suddenly knew that no one would ever hear from Sheila again.
“Kendall?”
“I haven’t heard from her, Joe, but I have the key to her house. I’ll run out there and see if maybe she did get home and is just sleeping through the phone.”
She hung up, set her sketchbook under the counter and brought out her handbag. “Vinnie, Mason, close up for me?”
“Where are you going?” Mason asked.
“Home to get my car, then out to Sheila’s.”
“I can run to Sheila’s if you want,” Mason offered.
“Just lock up for me.”
It was close to six, Kendall realized, as she hurried out the door.
The minute it closed behind her, she felt…eyes on her.
She tried to tell herself that she was being silly, that no one was watching her. She tried even harder to convince herself that Sheila wasn’t dead.
But she was. Sheila was dead, just like Jenny Trent and, if Aidan was right, at least nine others.
A fall evening, almost six, growing dark. There were people still on the streets, and plenty of businesses were still open or just closing up.
But among all those people, someone was watching her. She knew it.
Kendall started to run. She made it to her house and down the alley where she parked her car. She looked around as she opened the door and slipped into the driver’s seat. No one. She slammed the door and locked it, looking around again. There was still no one near her. She revved the engine and eased out onto the street, convinced all the while that someone was watching what she was doing.
Jeremy had come to stay out at the plantation, on call with the workmen, that day, while Zach had stayed in the city to take advantage of the high-speed Internet connection while he chased down more leads via his computer. Aidan had asked him to look at everyone who had entered their sphere of friends and acquaintances since they had returned, because he was beginning to think that the voodoo dolls had not been a prank, but a warning, though he had no guarantee that whoever was sending the message was someone they knew personally.
He was certain the disappearances had something to do with Flynn Plantation. He just didn’t know what. Someone wanted to stop a large group of people from coming to the house, and that someone also wanted them out. And the only explanation was that there was something on Flynn land the killer didn’t want them to find.
Because someone was using the plantation—his plantation—for murder.
Zach called Aidan late in the afternoon and read off a list of all the police officers who had been with the force in one way or another for a decade.
That list included Hal Vincent.
Zach had confirmed that the medical examiner’s office had been contacted regarding each disappearance and given descriptions of the women, so their bodies could be identified if they were brought in. The office of coroner was an elected one, but most of the people who’d been working there ten years ago were still there, including Jon Abel, who had, interestingly, written a book on cases he’d solved using forensic identification when there were only skeletal remains with which to work.
Vinnie and all the rest of the Stakes had grown up in New Orleans, as had Kendall.
Mason had been a frequent visitor from D.C., until he had moved down permanently five years ago. “By the way, like Kendall, he has a degree in psychology.”
“But he wasn’t here ten years ago.”
“I didn’t say that,” Zach corrected. “I just said he didn’t live here. I made a thorough check. And guess where Mason Adler was when our first girl disappeared?”