Dark Paradise (8 page)

“My sister's dead,” he says, voice thick with horror. “I saw her…h-heart.”

A quick glance upward shows him resting his head back against the tree. His eyelids squeeze shut, giving me a split second to study his tearless face before his red-rimmed eyes open and almost catch mine.

“I know. I saw. I'm
so
sorry, Landry.”

“You were inside?” He leans forward, reaching toward me with a bandaged hand.

I scoot back, and his hand drops onto his upraised knee. “Yeah, I—”

“I remember…standing by the door.” Landry frowns at me, but his gaze focuses inward. “You work at the Sheriff's Office, don't you? Is that why you're here?”

It's kind of unnerving that he pays so much attention to my comings and goings.
Stalk much, Landry?

Goose bumps prickle on my arms. “Yeah, I came with Bessie…I mean, Detective Caine. I wasn't supposed to go inside.”

“I shouldn't have either.” His eyes close again as if he's too exhausted to keep them open. “My mother thought the sheriff made some kind of horrible mistake. That's why she couldn't wait for my dad to come. She had to see Lainey with her own eyes.”

I bite the inside of my cheek, brimming with guilt. I totally understand how Mrs. Prince feels. If Mama was in the morgue, I'd need to see her for myself too. I wouldn't believe her dead otherwise. The not knowing has to be the worst. I want to blurt out the truth about finding Lainey so bad that blood trickles into my mouth from clenching the information behind my teeth.

“I have to go,” I say, as much to myself as to him.

“Can't you stay a little longer? I don't want to be alone.”

“I'm sorry. Detective Caine will worry if she can't find me.” I stagger to my feet, legs numb.

“Wait.” Landry lunges toward me, and his face blanches. His feet tangle together, and he falls forward. I grab for him at the same time that he grabs for me. My arms wrap around his chest, and he moans. His legs go out on him, and we tumble backward. He twists his body, taking the impact of the fall. I don't think the bristly thicket of jasmine cushions his landing. Vines snap and tangle around our thrashing limbs. With a heaving grunt, Landry rolls us sideways back onto the safety of the lawn. When our wild roll comes to a stop, I realize I've been screaming the whole time. My throat burns like I've turned into one of those folks who make a living eating fire.

Landry's chest heaves. He sucks in air, trying to catch his breath. Which can't be easy since I'm draped across his chest like an itchy wool blanket. The muscles in his abdomen ripple, and even though shock still fills me, I flush.

Our gazes meet, and he frowns. “Are you okay, Mala?”

White sparkles explode in front of my eyes, and I squeeze them tight. “Oh, yeah,” I say, breathless. “You?”

The arms encircling my waist flex, then release.

I desperately try to lasso my rampaging emotions. My body tingles like I've stuck my finger in a light socket. Energy pours off me and zaps into Landry. I've never felt so alive or so turned on by a guy in my entire life.
I hate it.

M
ala rolls off of my chest, but not fast enough.

My body reacts like it didn't with Clarice and doesn't listen when I tell myself to chill. I'm breathing harder than if I sprinted a half mile. All the blood rushes from my brain and heads down to my little brain, which seems to be running the idiot show. It's gonna get me kicked in the balls for being a perv.

“I totally groped you, didn't I?” I say with a moan.

Mala's huge, dark eyes widen, like a deer startled in the brush. Any minute she's going to run for her life. Not that I blame her. I try to head her off at the pass. “Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you.”

“I wasn't scared.” Her chin juts out, and her eyes narrow.

I raise an eyebrow at the obvious lie. She looks ten times worse than scared. More like horrified. Her breath comes in heaving gasps that do wonderful things to her breasts squished in the tight purple dress that's wearing her. It's hard, but I force my eyes up, up, and away from temptation, leaving me gazing into the inky pools of her eyes.

God, I hope I'm not drooling.

Mala surprises me when, instead of breaking for the parking lot, she runs trembling fingers through her curls, grimacing. “Seriously, I'm fine. Did I hurt you?”

“Huh? Oh, no.” I pull my hand from beneath my shirt. I'd been subconsciously poking at my tender ribs. “It was stupid. I dropped the weight bar on my chest during my morning workout.” I lift the edge of my T-shirt to show off my bruise, but let it drop when she averts her eyes. “I'm fine. Nothing's broken.”

Her bottom lip pokes out, but she just nods.

God, she's beautiful.
I pluck a jasmine blossom from her hair and tuck it behind her ear. My heart stops beating for a few seconds when my fingers brush her earlobe. It's soft, ah, silky. I stiffen my knees and focus on breathing in one slow breath at a time. If I dare touch her one more time, I'll die, and she'll have no idea she killed me.

Or maybe she
does
know how twisted up inside I've gotten.

Mala pulls the flower from behind her ear and folds it in her fist. “I should go. Bessie's waiting. You should go find your mama.”

The crash hurts.

Mom…Lainey…her heart on the autopsy table. The memory hits harder than a three-hundred-pound offensive tackle. I forgot why I'm here for a few moments. Being with Mala, holding her in my arms…I've had plenty of fantasies about the day I figured out how to talk in her presence. None of them ended like this.

We walk side by side into the Coroner's Office. The air-conditioned air blows over my heated body, cooling me down. Raised voices have me grabbing Mala's arm. I wrap my arm around her waist and drag her back against my chest. She looks up, mouth opening. I press a finger against her soft lips, shushing her. She goes along with it.

She crouches down, and I lean over her. We peek around the corner. Mom stands near a potted rubber tree in the hallway with Uncle Jay. I never really thought much about his job before, but as parish coroner, he's in charge of autopsying Lainey. God, I couldn't do it. He's known us our whole lives. What a shit job.

Mala leans up until her breath brushes against my ear as she whispers, “Can you hear them?”

I shake my head, shushing her again. She flushes. I like how the blood rushes into her face. My smile drops when Mom grabs the lapels of Uncle Jay's lab coat. She speaks in a low voice, but a slight rise of hysteria infuses her tone. “You promised, James. Is this how you keep your word? Defiling my daughter's memory?”

“I'm doing my job, Theresa.” He yanks his coat out of her balled fists and backs away, but she steps forward.

“You swore—”

“I didn't have a choice. It's protocol when there are suspicious circumstances.” He glances over his shoulder and waves over Detective Caine, who stands near the operating room doors. “Theresa, I swear I'll take care of Lainey. I'm handling the autopsy myself.”

Mom glares at him for a long moment before her shoulders crumple. She covers her face with her hands and nods, backing up. She starts sobbing again. I start forward with a muffled curse, but Mala shoves me back with a scowl. “Let Bessie calm her down.”

“She's my responsibility.”

Mala shakes her head and pokes a finger into my bruised ribs. A white-hot shaft of pain doubles me over, and she catches me. My face presses into her curls, and I inhale. She smells like flowers. Not sure what kind. She holds me, stronger than she looks, until the pain fades enough for me to straighten up. Course, Mother Dearest didn't raise a fool. And maybe I overexaggerate my weakness a bit to stay in Mala's arms.

Mala pushes me against the wall and wrinkles her nose. “I'm sorry. I wasn't spying on purpose, but I saw your mama elbow you. Maybe you're new to getting walloped on, so take my advice. The best way to avoid a beating is to figure out when one's coming and hide.” Her eyes drop to the floor. She bites her lip and turns back around. I stare at the curve of her back, wondering who she has to hide from.

Detective Caine reaches Mom's side and places her hands on her shoulders, but Mom twists away. “Don't touch me! Where's my son?”

Detective Caine raises her hands in the air. “He's waiting for you outside. He's devastated and confused. He needs his mama to pull herself together. You need to be strong for him.”

“How dare you! You know nothing about my son's needs.” Mom draws her shoulders back and lifts her chin. “You…all of you, will be hearing from my lawyer. My husband never gave consent for an autopsy. It goes against our religious beliefs to desecrate the dead.”

“Legally, we didn't need permission from the family. It's time for you to leave.” Detective Caine takes a firm step forward.

Mala exhales. “Uh-oh. Hurry, go get her before she gets arrested.”

Yeah, Detective Caine's badass. I recognize the set of her shoulders. If Mom attacks the detective the way she did me earlier, she'll get slapped in handcuffs and hauled off to jail in the blink of an eye. Mom figures out the same thing. She spins on her heel and briskly walks in my direction, brushing past me and Mala as if we're invisible, to stride out the door.

I debate whether I should follow, but something Uncle Jay said niggles at me: “suspicious circumstances.” What about Lainey's death has everyone in an uproar? They wouldn't be so on edge if she died from an accident.

Mala eyes me with a frown.

“I'm hiding,” I whisper.

She gives a tiny smile and a nod.

I smile back and acknowledge my biggest reason for not following. I'm not ready to leave Mala yet. What if this is the last time I feel somewhat normal? What will I do at home but mourn? Mom's crazy behavior scares me. I'm embarrassed, but, at the same time, I understand her. Well, not totally. I lost a sister, but I can't begin to understand how it feels to lose a child. It must be all kinds of devastating. Still doesn't make me want to go home with her.

I'll do anything to keep back the memory of Lainey on the autopsy table.

“You two can come out now,” Detective Caine says.

Mala stumbles. “Crap, I swear the woman has eyes in the back of her head. Come on. There's a time to hide and a time to take your knocks.”

I follow Mala, sliding around the corner. Guilt over spying on their conversation bothers me a little, but I'll get over it.

Uncle Jay follows Bessie's gaze with a start. “Mala, Landry, I didn't know you were here.”

I clear my throat. “Yeah, you seemed a little busy.”

His eyes narrow. He glances down at his bloodstained smock and shakes his head. “Never had such a thing happen in all my time as coroner,” he says softly. “A parent should never see their child the way your mom saw Lainey.”

Detective Caine wraps her arms around Mala's shoulders and tucks her head against her chest. “Landry shouldn't have been forced to see his sister like that either. Her behavior was purely selfish,” she snaps.

I'm pissed at the woman's shit-talking. Who does she think she is? Then I see the tears swimming in Mala's eyes. Detective Caine pats her on the back, but she stares at me. The sympathy in her expression overwhelms my defenses. The detective is angry for me. I try to stay strong, but I start trembling again.

Mala's bloodshot eyes meet mine. “I'm sorry,” she mouths.

“I'm going to take Mala home,” Detective Caine says. “I thought she'd be sensible and stay outside like I asked. Seems I'm just as guilty as Mrs. Prince of exposing the innocent to horrors they're not old enough or equipped to deal with.”

Rathbone shakes his head. “Nobody, no matter how old, is equipped to deal with the death of a child. And poor Lainey was still a child. She had her whole future ahead of her. I delivered her, you know. Back when I was in general practice. Mine was the first face Lainey looked on, and I watched her grow into a lovely young woman over the years.” He rubs his eyes. His cheeks are wet when he turns to go back into the morgue to continue with the autopsy. “I'll phone you with the results, Bessie.”

Mala shoots one last glance over her shoulder as they leave. I force myself not to follow.

When I look back, the hallway is empty. I stand outside the lab doors. My hand shakes when I reach for the handle. I don't have to do this. If I wait, I'll find out what he meant later. Mom or Dad will tell me. Or not. I may legally be an adult, but they still see me as a kid.

I push open the door and step inside. The smell almost drops me to my knees again, but I stiffen them and step forward. I avoid looking at the autopsy table. I don't have to see it. The image is branded into my mind.

“Uncle Jay,” I call.

He turns, eyes widening. “What are you doing back in here?”

One of the officials observing the autopsy starts in my direction, but he waves them off. “I'll be but a minute,” he promises, and rushes over. He takes my arm and steers me back out the door.

“I'm sorry, I can't leave. Not yet,” I say. “Not until you tell me what's going on.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I heard you talking to Mom. What did you mean about Lainey dying under suspicious circumstances?”

“Didn't Mala tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

He frowns. “I guess she would keep quiet, given her part in this.”

“Will you stop being cryptic and spit it out.”

“Look, the only reason I'm telling you this is because you're family. Don't share this information with anyone but your father. He'll know what to do.” He glances over his shoulder at the sealed doors to the autopsy room. “Sheriff Keyes and Detective Caine will cover this up. They won't want a witch hunt on their hands. Nobody believes in a bunch of superstitious nonsense in this day and age, but I've seen things on my table that would make your hair fall out.”

He pauses, eyes staring though me. I don't know what memory he's reliving. I don't want to know. “You know the LaCroix history? The rumors of witchcraft and devil worshiping.”

“Yeah, so what? It's bullshit.”

“They say Jasmine LaCroix is a witch. That the LaCroix women inherit their powers from their mothers. From blood sacrifice. That's what they say.”

“You're a doctor. You can't believe a bunch of rumors.”

“I'm a Christian first. I believe Satan comes in many disguises. Some are sweet and innocent. They tempt you to want to taste their ripe lusciousness. To bathe in their embrace even though you know it's a sin. The LaCroix women are temptresses. Don't ever forget that when dealing with one, Landry. Mala appears as innocent as new-fallen snow, but she comes from a long line of evil.”

The memory of holding Mala in my arms returns with his words. I swallow hard. He's creeping me out. I never pegged him for a religious fanatic. “What does all this have do with my sister?”

Uncle Jay blinks. “Everything,” he breathes. “Lainey was found on LaCroix property. She'd been dumped in the bayou like garbage. Judging from the ritualistic symbols carved into her abdomen and the cuts on her wrists, Lainey bled to death slowly, in terror and agony.” Tears fill his eyes. “In my professional opinion, your sister was sacrificed in some sort of satanic ritual.”