Dark Paradise (27 page)

“Can you get that, Mala? My hands are full.”

“Oh sure, since they're full of me.” I brush the silky strands out of his eyes and trail my fingers across his stubbly cheek. “You look exhausted. Did you sleep last night?”

Landry presses a kiss to the top of my head. “No, I've been having nightmares. Last night I dreamed of fire. Plus I kept hoping you'd call.”

“Really? Me too. I mean, I dreamed of a fire. I couldn't sleep and ended up watching TV all night. I didn't expect you to call. I didn't even know you had my phone number until I got your message this afternoon. Thanks for asking about my mom…” I blink at him, realizing I've been rambling. “Do you think the dreams are what Lainey uses to warn us about the future?”

“I hope not. That's some messed-up shit.”

The box rests against my chest like a lead weight. I have to tell Landry that the guy who shacked up with Lainey tried to kill Mama, likely murdered his sister, and buried their baby beneath a rose bush, but he seems fragile today. How do I tell him the truth when it will devastate him? Maybe I shouldn't tell him.

Give me a sign, God, please. I don't know what to do.

Landry adjusts my body higher in his arms. Hot breath sighs across my cheek, and I shiver.

“Stop squirming before I drop you.”

“Sorry, I got excited.”

“About what? Dreams of a future that may or may not happen? Or about me kissing your neck?”

My head tilts, and I close my eyes as he nibbles on the soft flesh beneath my jaw. “Mmm…”
Focus, Mala.

“You taste like roses,” Landry whispers, his breath tickling my ear.

I shudder, pulling my head back. “What did you say?”

He frowns. “I said—”

“Roses. You said roses, but it's not me.” Now I smell the cloying scent. I begged for a sign, and I'm receiving it loud and clear. She's after me again. “It's Lainey. She's why I came.” We've almost reached the road bordering the cemetery. I have to tell him…now. “The reason why we smell roses…Lainey showed me a vision of a baby—her dead baby, buried beneath roses.”

Landry drops my legs, pulls my arm from around his neck, and steps back. Surprised, I barely catch my balance. “Damn it, Landry. Did you hear what I said?”

“No…stop,” he begs, backing away. “Don't say any more. Not today, please.”

I'm too scared to hold onto this secret alone. “Lainey delivered a baby boy. Landry, he was murdered—buried beneath roses—probably by the same man who tried to kill my mama last night. Afterward, he trashed her room looking for something.” I hold the box out to him. “I found these. They're Lainey's belongings—”

Landry slaps the box out of my hand. It hits the ground, spilling its contents. “I said leave it alone!”

“Don't you get it? This is another clue. This guy's desperate to keep his identity secret, but we're closing in on him.” I take a deep breath, studying his face. “I thought you'd be happy—”

He laughs harshly and waves toward the open grave behind us. “You thought I'd be happy about hearing my sister's baby was murdered?”

“No, I-I…that came out wrong.” I limp toward him. “I'm sorry. I didn't think…”

He brushes my outstretched hand aside. “Because I'm the Frog Prince in Mala's fantasy world, a cartoon character whose feelings you don't have to think about. Right?”

“That's not true! I totally didn't mean it that way. I almost didn't say anything, but Lainey—”

“Why couldn't you just let it go for one day?” He spins around, hands covering his face. “Clarice, my father, everyone is right about you being a witch. You put a spell on me…”

“God, Landry, you're not bespelled. Those meds you took have you spun out.” He has me seconds away from yanking all my hair out by the roots. Why won't he let me explain? Karma again. Hell, this must be how he feels when I flip out on him. “You know what Lainey can do. You've seen her ghost about as much as I have, and if that makes me a witch, what does it make you? A warlock?”

His mouth opens, then closes. Tension stretches between us like a rubber band about to snap. “Seriously, a warlock?” he finally says. “Worst comeback ever.”

Yeah, it was pretty lame, but it distracted him. Maybe he'll actually hear me this time through his drug-induced fog. “I'm sorry I laid this on you today, but Lainey took me down hard when she gave me that vision. I had a bloody nose, and I passed out after she attacked me. Then I saw Ruby's obituary. The woman really died from being possessed. So I convinced myself that it would be okay to tell you. I thought you'd want to know. You came to me, remember? You asked me to figure out why Lainey's haunting us, and I did.”

He rubs his eyes. “You're right. I asked and you got hurt again. We'll talk about everything…Lainey, the murderer, the”—he chokes on the word—“
baby
. Just not right now. I can't deal with this shit, or you, right now.”

Landry's leaving me. I want to call him back, but again…stupid pride. It's getting me in all kinds of trouble. I cross my fingers, hoping he'll turn and run to me with outstretched arms. He'll sweep me up in a hug or nibble on my neck. We'll forgive each other's sins and solve the mystery of Lainey's murder and Mama's assault together, because I'm too exhausted to do this alone.

Landry passes beneath the cemetery gate and crosses the street to a limousine parked beneath a moss-draped oak. When the doors open, Reverend Prince and Doc Rathbone climb out. It's obvious they had a clear view of our argument. The rev—as Mr. Acker calls him—sends a look full of hatred in my direction.

George appears out of the shadows. A scowl creases his brow, but his anger doesn't show in his voice. “Still need a ride?”

I rub the goose bumps on my arms. “What took you so long?”

“Landry seemed to have the situation under control. Did he carry you the whole time?”

“If you saw him carrying me, then you also saw he got pissed.”

He smiles a little and tips his chin in Landry's direction. “If it's any consolation, I don't think he meant whatever he said. More than likely, he was spouting off to placate his father. Mr. Prince doesn't look too thrilled to see his son associating with you.”

Reverend Prince has his hands on his son's shoulders. He squeezes them so hard that I wince in sympathetic pain. Man, I wish I could hear their conversation because Landry's about to burst out of his skin. No, the rev's not at all pleased.

“Of course he's disappointed.” I wince at the bitterness in my voice. “My reputation was established before Mama gave birth to me. Doesn't matter what sort of person I am, I'll always be judged by her actions.”

George frowns. “Do you care so much about what Landry's father thinks of you?”

I shrug; it's not like Landry and I are getting married or anything. Poor Ruby failed utterly with that prediction. “No, I guess not.”

George holds out his arms. “So, about that lift?”

“I can walk. My mom's truck is only parked half a mile away on Old Lick Road on the opposite side of the cemetery from where we are now.”

George chuckles. “My, my, getting dumped makes you cranky.”

I stuff Lainey's belongings back into the box, only pausing before throwing the book inside.
The Color Purple.
I stashed it in there after I dug the box out of the trash. I totally forgot to give it to Mama. The dustcover slips off, revealing a leather-bound diary hidden within. And I read the flowery handwriting—
Mon nom est Elaine Prince et ceci est mon histoire.

M
y shoulders burn as I walk toward the limousine. Each step feels like I'm dragging the weight of my guilt behind me. I pass beneath the arched metal gate and cross the street. Dad and Uncle Jay climb out of the limo and stand so they flank either side.

“Did you hear what you needed to convince you of her guilt?” Dad asks, bristled jaw flexing.

“No.” I glance over my shoulder. George walks over to Mala, and she frowns at him. A happy scowl, I can tell the difference between them now. Dad's hands land on my shoulders, locking me in place when I turn to go back to her. I watch while George takes my place. He lifts Mala into his arms, and she lets him. Damn her!

“Let me go,” I growl, straining against the hands.

“Why? So you can make an even bigger fool of yourself cavorting with the witch's daughter on holy ground?”

“She's not a witch.”

“We both know that's not true, son.”

What's true? I can't tell truth from fiction. I'm worn out. Mom said the medicine she gave me would help keep my emotions in check. It worked for her. She stayed dry-eyed and calm through the funeral. The whole time I fought not to cuss out the other mourners, my parents, even the preacher. I wouldn't have spared anyone if I lost control. The emotions of the mourners thrummed, like we're connected by an invisible current amplifying each other's grief, until I vibrated with it. Mala dropping a murdered nephew into the mix didn't help.

I don't know how much more I can deal with.

I meet Dad's eyes, then let my gaze drop. Guilt punches a hole in my chest. He's barely said two words to me this week. He sees my being with Mala as a betrayal to Lainey. I don't think he believed my lies about only hanging with her to get to the truth of Lainey's death. He doesn't need proof. He judged the LaCroix women off of what Rathbone found in the autopsy. I can't blame him. The evidence is pretty damning by itself. This morning I saw the cuts in Lainey's stomach at the funeral home. We all did. The inverted cross carved into her stomach right below her belly button.

Some sick bastard toyed with her. Rathbone said she was still alive while she was tortured. I know Mala isn't involved, but Ms. Jasmine knows more about what happened than she's saying. I should've gone to the hospital to check on Mala; instead I stayed at the hotel and paid Khan to let me search her mother's room. I found herbs and hoodoo potions in her closet. Then I used Lainey's key to search her motel room. I found another bundle of herbs beneath Lainey's mattress.

The stupid part is where I got upset and told Dad about what I found. Mala's right. I've got a big mouth.

Dad drops his hands to his sides. “It's time to choose, son. Your family or that girl?”

“Why?” My voice cracks. “It's not about choice. It's about right and wrong. You're wrong about Mala. She wants to find out who killed Lainey, maybe even more than we do. She knows we're judging her. How do you think that makes her feel? How do you think it makes me feel knowing my family believes the girl I'm in love with murdered my sister?”

Uncle Jay shoves between Dad and me. “Love? Are you out of your mind?”

I shove him back. “Don't! This has nothing to do with you. This is between family.”

“I told you to guard yourself. The LaCroix witches can twist your mind. Make you lust after them until you damn your soul to be with one of them. That's how Savoie became trapped by his slave and this town became saddled with those whores.”

God, let me punch him, please.
“You're a narrow-minded ass, Uncle Jay.”

Uncle Jay glances down at my clenched fists and steps back. “I'm only trying to help.”

“How? By poisoning my dad's mind against her? Spreading rumors that aren't true? You're more to blame than anyone, Uncle Jay.” I look to my father. How can he tolerate this bullshit? He's a progressive guy. Sure he's a preacher, but he doesn't believe in this hoodoo voodoo stuff, at least he didn't before Lainey passed. Even with all I've seen, I don't believe in magic. What did Mala say about Einstein and energy again? Ghosts…make sense. Witchcraft, not so much. There's no supernatural bullshit behind my sister's death. It's some sick bastard who murdered her for some crazy reason. Why did it take me so long to figure this out?

I look to my father. “You say I've got to make a choice, then I choose Mala. She's innocent. I'll find the real killer, and when I do, I want your blessing. I want to be with her.”

The backseat driver's side door opens, and I freeze. Mom leans out of the limo and stares up at me with an expression so coldly disapproving that I shiver. I can't tear my gaze from her icy blue eyes. She wilts me.

“Mom…” I beg.

She lifts up the hem of her black dress and holds out her hand. Uncle Jay helps her step to the ground. I stand before her, shaking. How can she scare the shit out of me with silence, while Dad only makes me sad? Maybe because I know Dad wouldn't hurt a fly unless it kept buzzing around his food, while Mom wields her flyswatter on flies and my ass without batting an eyelash.

Mom's head turns in Mala's direction. I watch as Mala and George pass beneath the cemetery arch. George puts her down once they reach his Land Rover parked by the curb. I guess she doesn't need me after all. The great prick will get her home. It should be me, but I don't trust myself. I'm too unstable. Plus I've got to make my parents understand how I feel. Things are spiraling out of my control. Tensions and hatred flare hot enough to burn. If I don't squash them, Mala will become an even bigger target.

“Theresa!” Dad yells.

I whip around. Mom is already halfway across the street and zeroing in fast on Mala and George. My chest throbs, an echo of pain from where she elbowed my bruised ribs when I tried to stop her from crashing the autopsy.

“Mala!”

Mala turns at the sound of my voice. She lifts her hand in a faltering wave when she notices Mom heading in her direction. I wait for a passing car, then sprint across the road. It's like I'm running through mud. Everything slows to a crawl. I don't know what Mom plans. She's been unpredictable since Lainey died. Grief took a bite out of her sanity. Maybe if Mom talked about her pain, she'd be able to work through it. But she keeps her emotions dimmed under a self-medicated haze, locked up and ignored. Inside the pressure builds and builds until she explodes, like now.

Mala's eyes widen when Mom walks up to her. I can't hear what Mala says, but I read her lips: “I'm sorry for your loss.”

I've almost reached them when Mom's arm swings back. I try to catch her hand, but I'm not fast enough. Mala sees it coming, but she doesn't try to avoid the slap. The crack echoes off the brick wall surrounding the cemetery. Mala stumbles, falling back, and George catches her arm before she topples over.

Mom stands in front of them. She's not even breathing hard, like the slap came as an afterthought. I have no idea what she's thinking or feeling.

George and I share a look. “Get your mom out of here,” he says.

My tongue's like a frozen
boudin
. I want to apologize, but I'm scared if I do, it will set Mom off even more. I lay my hands on her shoulders, ready to flinch back if she strikes out. She only turns in my arms.

“Family first, Landry,” Mom says, patting my chest. “Now say good-bye to your little whore. It's time to get home. Lainey's waiting.”

I glance over her shoulder. George holds Mala in his arms. Her face is pressed into his chest, and her shoulders shake. She's crying.

This is the second time Mala's gotten slapped because of me.

Dad reaches us, and I push Mom into his arms. “I'll be there in a minute,” I say, unable to meet Dad's eyes. All of my bravado got whipped out of me. Mom figured out the best way to punish me was to hurt Mala. Now Dad knows how to keep me in check.

Dad nods to George. “Thank you for attending the service.” His eyes flick to Mala as he says, “Both of you.” He doesn't wait for a reply. He bundles Mom back across the street, helps her into the limo, and climbs in. He watches us through the window with fingers tapping on the steering wheel.

Mala's face is buried in George's suit jacket. The only features visible are a puffy eye and a tearstained cheek. She won't look in my direction. I reach toward her, but George bats my hand away.

“I need to know if she's okay,” I say.

George growls a muttered curse. “No thanks to your mother.”

“I'm sorry. I didn't know she'd…”

Mala lifts her face to me. “You don't need to apologize for her.”

The bright red handprint on her cheek sends a burst of self-hatred through me. I should've been faster.
It's my fault she got hurt.

“Damn right it's your fault,” George yells, and I realize I said the words out loud. “Think I don't know that your family has been spreading rumors around town about Mala practicing hoodoo rituals?”

Mala gasps. “What?”

“Landry's parents think you and your mother sacrificed Lainey in a satanic ritual because she had weird symbols carved into her stomach. God only knows what they plan once they get proof, but it's why he's been hanging out with you. To get the evidence you murdered his sister.”

“Weird symbols? Are you kidding?”

I shake my head. “I saw them myself.”

Mala's face reddens. Shit. She's about to blow, and I can't duck for cover. Gotta take it like a man, 'cause I deserve whatever pain she dishes out for keeping this secret.

“Saints! Why didn't either of you tell me this before? I thought we were working this case together.” A tiny furrow creases her forehead. “Unless
you
also believe I'm involved.”

George lifts his hands, palms up. His tattle-telling totally backfired. “Whoa-there, I don't think—”

I interrupt, 'cause who the fuck cares what he thinks. “Come on, Mala. You know I believe you're innocent.”

“I did before this startling revelation. Now all I know for sure is you've got more faces than a Rubik's Cube, Landry.” She crosses her arms. “I thought you didn't want to ‘deal with this shit' or me. So why are you still here?”

All the hot air rushes out of me. “I…yeah, I'm over it.”

“Oh, hell no! It's not that easy.”

Anger pinches the corners of my eyes and mouth. What does she expect? For me to blab about my
feelings
in front of George? Not happening. My confession will wait until we're alone, but I'm telling her everything.

Lies. I'm sick of suffocating in a sticky web of lies.

“Fine, I'll be honest,” I say with a hard grin. “If it's a choice between my family's bullshit and your drama, I'll pick you any day.”

“Wow, I feel all weak and fluttery inside.”

“You should.”

George unlocks the door to his SUV. “Look, whatever childish rebellion you're engaging in had better not stir up trouble for Mala, or I won't look the other way.”

“I'll protect Mala with my life before I ever let anyone harm her, George.” It's the truth too. Whatever I've got to do to keep her safe, I'll do. Even if it means going against my parents, I'll be there for her. Decision made.

I hold my hand out to Mala. “Do you believe me?”

Mala's mouth opens, but George slaps my hand aside.

“She'd be a fool to believe you,” he says, nudging her toward the open door. “Mala, let's go. I'll drop you off at your truck so you can pick up your mama.”

“Hold on, Georgie,” Mala says. “I can speak for myself.”

I'm sick and tired of George's holier-than-thou act. Frustration erupts in a spew of acid-dripping words I've been holding in for days. “Why don't you get your own girlfriend instead of worrying about
mine
? Oh, right, 'cause Lainey dumped you on your ass. So what? Now that my sister's dead and there's no chance you'll get back together, you're trying to get Mala to take her place?”

Mala stiffens. “Now what are you talking about?”

“Didn't your best friend George mention he and Lainey dated last year?”

A hushed stillness comes over George. His voice vibrates with warning. “Not that it's any of your business, but Lainey and I agreed to be friends.”

I roll my eyes. “Yeah, right. Maybe if you'd satisfied her she wouldn't have gone after some older guy who ended up getting her pregnant and murdering her and the baby.”

Mala glances between us. “Landry—”

Oh shit, I've said too much.
George's eyes sharpen to pinpricks. Dissecting my words. He noticed I mentioned the baby being murdered. Mala squeezes her eyes shut. We both wait for the explosion. I hold in my shiver when he says, “You want to blame someone, fine. Blame me, but we both know this little outburst has nothing to do with who I did or did not go out with. Let's go, Mala.”

“Uh, you dated Lainey?” The shock in Mala's voice makes it warble. “Seriously? How did I not know? When you saw her at the crime scene, you said you had a crush on her in high school, but you never mentioned you dated.”

“My personal relationships are none of your business,” George says.

“But we're friends.” Mala's voice grows soft. “I thought.” Her expression almost breaks my heart. Damn, she's good. She's interrogating him like he's a prime suspect. I doubt he even realizes he's getting played, but she used the same doe-eyed lash flutter and pout to get me to carry the fishing poles and shove Daisy into the pond.

George sighs. “You're one of my best friends. You know that. I didn't tell anyone about our relationship. Neither of us did. It's not that big of a deal. Landry's right. Lainey dumped me.”

“When did you and Lainey get together?”