An heiress comes home to terror in New York Times bestselling author Jana DeLeon’s Mystere Parish: Family Inheritance miniseries.

Bodyguard to an heiress is Tyler Duhan’s idea of hell. The steely, sexy ex-marine has heard—and dismissed—the gossip about the haunted old LeBeau mansion and its “cursed” heiresses. Now the middle sibling—headstrong Joelle—has arrived to comply with her mother’s will and reunite with her long-lost sisters.

But no sooner does she move into the house, than Joelle falls prey to terrifying threats and mysterious visions. Tyler, though he’s sworn off femme fatales, can’t deny his feelings for the Creole beauty. Nor can he let passion distract him. Because falling for Joelle could be a fatal mistake—for them both.

Finally, she slumped against him, her body spent.

She stayed there for a while, relishing the comfort of his strong arms around her, until she mustered the strength to regain control. “I’m sorry,” she said.

“Don’t you dare apologize. Anyone in your position would be upset. I’m a half step away from losing it myself.”

His expression was a mixture of sympathy, worry and frustration, and Joelle’s heart leaped at this man’s honor and compassion.

He looked down at her and lifted one hand to wipe a tear from her cheek. “He will not hurt you or your sisters. I won’t let that happen.”

“I know,” she said, and believed every word.

He stared at her a moment more and his expression shifted from frustration to something else… Something she hadn’t seen before. A shiver of excitement ran through her as she realized he was going to kiss her.

New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author JANA DELEON grew up among the bayous and small towns of southwest Louisiana. She’s never actually found a dead body or seen a ghost, but she’s still hoping. Jana started writing in 2001—she focuses on murderous plots set deep in the Louisiana bayous. By day she writes very boring technical manuals for a software company in Dallas. Visit Jana on her website, www.janadeleon.com.

The Reunion

New York Times Bestselling Author

Jana DeLeon

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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CAST OF CHARACTERS

Joelle LeBeau—The social worker specialized in helping women escape situations of domestic abuse, but her job was not without risk. One man will do anything to find his wife, whom Joelle helped hide. When she finds out that her stepfather died and the terms of her inheritance require her to spend two weeks at her childhood estate, it seems like perfect timing for her to disappear.

Tyler Duhon—He’s back from the Middle East and attempting to gain his footing in the civilian world. His father, William, has other ideas. William wants Tyler to play bodyguard to the last of the LeBeau heirs. Tyler knows his father wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important, so he can’t say no. But he hopes the time passes quickly and the heiress doesn’t bring as much trouble down on Calais as her sisters did.

Victor Brant—The abuser wants to find his wife in the worst way possible, and he’s not going to let up on Joelle until he does exactly that. But did he follow her to Calais, or is someone else responsible for all the odd things happening at the LeBeau estate?

Mayor Dupree—The only time the old windbag isn’t gossiping is when he’s sleeping or eating, but does he know even more about Trenton Purcell and the situation with the inheritance than he’s saying?

Bert Thibodeaux—Purcell promised the trucker he’d get a new rig when Purcell died, but the money wasn’t Purcell’s to give away and he knew it. The trucker is beyond angry, but is he angry enough to try to get revenge on the legitimate heirs?

Doctor Picard—The now-deceased physician had treated the heiress’s mother over twenty years ago and had clearly been hiding something all these years. Was his secret worth killing over?

To my husband, Rene.

We’ve come a long way, baby!

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Epilogue

Chapter One

The woman stared out the second-story window of her mansion, looking across the overgrown driveway and down the lonely dirt road that led into town. Where had her children gone? Two were here before, then there were none. But the third...the third had never returned. Did she not know how much her mother loved her? Did she not know that only the thought of seeing her again kept the woman tied to this place?

A tear slid down the woman’s cheek as the house began to fade away.

“I grow weak. Come to me, soon. Before it’s too late.”

* * *

JOELLE LEBEAU STOOD next to her ancient Honda Accord, certain it was totaled and not even wanting to think of replacing it. The two Jackson, Mississippi, policemen documented the vandalism, one with pen and paper and the other with a camera.

It was only 6:00 p.m., but the fall sunlight was already fading, leaving the parking lot behind the Office of Social Services building dim. Joelle had been working late, as usual, when she heard a noise outside. By the time she’d removed her pistol from her desk drawer and peered out the back door into the parking lot, the vandal was already gone.

But he’d managed to do so much in so little time.

Every tire had been slashed and all the windows were shattered, leaving shards of glass littering the parking lot and the interior of the car. The windshield had a huge crack in the center that splintered out in every direction, and a message in dark red paint sprayed across it.

Destroyer.

That one word left her no doubt who had done the damage, and if she’d had trouble guessing, the note on the dashboard cinched it.

Give me what’s mine.

One of the officers stepped up next to her. “You said you had someone in mind for this?”

She nodded. “Victor Brant.”

The officer made a note. “Is he a client of yours?”

She almost laughed at the thought of the abusive, narcissistic Victor Brant admitting he needed help. “No. His wife is.”

“And I take it Mr. Brant is unhappy with that?”

“He’s unhappy with anyone who doesn’t bow down to his every word or whose thoughts differ from his own. He’s the worst type of abuser—successful, good-looking and adored by his colleagues and in his community.”

“So you’re saying it would have been unlikely that people believed Mrs. Brant when she said her husband was abusive.”

“She wasn’t believed. The police were dispatched twice to their home. Both times, they declined to even take Mr. Brant in for questioning. In fact, the last time all they did was schedule a round of golf with Brant the following week at his country club.”

The officer frowned. “The Jackson Police Department?”

“No. The Brants’ estate is in Willow Grove. It was their local department. The mayor is Mr. Brant’s first cousin. The chief of police is his uncle. Are you getting a clear picture?”

“Yes, ma’am, and I don’t like it, but I can assure you that neither the mayor of Jackson nor the chief of police are interested in playing flunky to Mr. Brant. If he’s responsible for this threat, he will be prosecuted. What I don’t understand is this note.”

He held up the note in a plastic baggie. “What do you have that he thinks belongs to him?”

Joelle took a deep breath and blew it out. “His wife.”

The officer’s eyes widened. “Excuse me?”

“In addition to my counseling job at the crisis center, I volunteer with an organization that helps women...quietly relocate, let’s just say.”

“An underground railroad?”

Joelle held in her frustration at the officer’s obvious displeasure. Dedicated, honorable law enforcement professionals didn’t like the vigilante-like tactics that the underground railroad organizations often used, but they had yet to offer a solution when their own departments couldn’t keep women safe.

“There were no children,” Joelle assured him. “And Ms. Brant left only with the clothes on her back and a watch that belonged to her mother. What we did was in no way illegal.”

“Maybe not, but it’s still not the usual way to get divorced.”

“Look,” she said, unable to control her aggravation any longer, “if any of us thought for a minute that Ms. Brant could simply file and get a divorce, like normal people do, she’d be staying at a Hilton, not hiding in a ten-by-ten room, afraid to even look out a window. Victor Brant said he’d kill her before he let her go. We have no reason to think he’s lying.”

The officer sighed and shook his head. “Assuming all of that is true, you haven’t solved the problem. You’ve simply momentarily shifted Brant’s focus from his wife to you. What makes you think you’re any safer than she was?”

Despite the somewhat warm temperature of the fall evening, a chill passed over her and she crossed her arms across her chest. What he said was entirely correct, but it wasn’t something she wanted to dwell on at the moment. When she’d decided on this profession and her volunteer work, Joelle invested time and money into her own safety. She lived in a well-lit condominium with a good security system. She spent at least an hour a week at the gun range and was a black belt.

“I’m safer, because I’m more qualified to handle this,” she said finally. “It’s my job to be prepared for these kinds of threats.”

The officer didn’t look convinced, but he closed the notebook and handed her a card. “If you receive any more threats, please contact me immediately. And be careful, Ms. LeBeau. Even the best trained among us can be gotten to. Can we give you a ride home?”

“No, thank you. A friend is coming to pick me up.”

He nodded and climbed into his car with his partner. Joelle watched them exit the parking lot, then cast one more baleful glance at her junkyard-bound automobile. Sighing, she turned toward the office building, and when she did, she caught sight of movement out of the corner of her eye.

She spun around to peer at the Dumpster that rested in the corner of the parking lot against the fence. Nothing moved now, but she was certain something had just a second before.

You let that cop spook you.

Blowing out a breath, she hustled toward the back door of the office and let herself inside. Likely, it had just been an alley cat. Two or three regularly hung around the Dumpster, looking for an easy meal.

She pulled the dead bolt on the back door and hurried to the front of the office. Lisa would be here any moment to pick her up, and she didn’t want her waiting too long. Her friend was an incredibly nice woman but a bit prone to dramatics and quite fearful of everything. Joelle had omitted the truth when she’d asked Lisa to give her lift, only citing car trouble as the reason for needing help.

As she walked through the office, she grabbed her purse from the desk where she’d dropped it earlier and continued through the reception area. As she approached the frosted glass door, a shadow moved in front of it and she drew up short.

The shadow stood for several seconds and Joelle dipped her hand into her purse and gripped her pistol. Then the shadow rapped on the door, causing her to jump.

“Anyone here? It’s Myer’s Courier Service. I have a package.”

She hesitated just a second before releasing her pistol and stepping up to the door to unlock it. Myer’s had delivered packages to the office many times before, but they usually made deliveries before the office closed for the day.

Peering out a tiny crack, she was relieved to see the same tall, skinny young man who always delivered. She pulled open the door and smiled at him.

“Hello, John. You almost missed me.”

John handed her a legal-sized envelope and produced a clipboard for her to sign. “I know I’m late,” he said, flushing a bit. “I had a flat tire and it took longer to change it out than I thought it would.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re fixed now. How’s Janey doing her first semester of college?” John’s sister had volunteered at the crisis center her senior year of high school.

“She’d doing fine. She’s working with disabled kids two days a week after class.”

Joelle smiled. “That’s great. Tell her we miss her and good luck.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said and left.

She closed the door and placed the package on the secretary’s desk, but as she started to walk away, the name on the package caught her eye. Joelle LeBeau.

Frowning, she picked up the package again. It was unusual for her to receive a courier delivery. The secretary usually dealt with all incoming paperwork and orders. She glanced at the return address and sucked in a breath.

Calais, Louisiana.

She studied the return address more closely. What in the world would an attorney in Calais want with her? She was only four years old when her mother died and she was sent to live with distant cousins in Mississippi, but certain moments of her childhood on the LeBeau estate were etched in her mind, with recall so vivid it was as if she were watching it take place on a television. For years, she’d tried to convince herself to visit Calais—to confront her stepfather, the man who cast off the three sisters—but every time she approached the entry for the highway to New Orleans, she drove past it.

Not ready to face those vivid memories yet.

She tore open the envelope and pulled out a letter, already certain she didn’t want to hear anything her stepfather had to say. If Trenton Purcell was on his deathbed and begging forgiveness, she’d raise a glass and toast, but she’d never accept an apology for what he did.

As she began to read, her pulse ticked up until she could feel it beating in her temples. Her evil stepfather was dead. He had been much older than her mother, so Joelle knew the day would come sooner than later, but she’d never expected to be notified of the event.

Then she read the second paragraph and sank down onto the desktop, her knees weak. It was all theirs. The estate, the fortune—everything her mother and her mother’s ancestors had built—it all belonged to Ophelia LeBeau’s three daughters. Purcell hadn’t been able to control the fortune after his death.

She continued reading and frowned. In order to inherit, she had to spend two straight weeks on the estate, to be verified by the local sheriff. Her two sisters, Alaina and Danae, had already completed their two weeks and were anxious to meet her.

A wave of excitement rushed over her, then a flash of anxiety. All these years, she’d wanted to meet her sisters, but hadn’t even known where to start looking. Now they were waiting for her at their childhood home—waiting for her to come fulfill a rather bizarre inheritance request so that they could finally claim their birthright.

But that meant not only returning to Calais, but staying in that house. The house with bad memories.

A mental image of her vandalized car flashed through her mind. Maybe leaving Jackson for a couple of weeks wasn’t a bad idea. It might give Brant a chance to realize that the Jackson Police Department wasn’t for sale like the one in Willow Grove. She had plenty of vacation coming. In fact, she hadn’t taken more than a day off at a time since she’d started working at the crisis center over five years ago.

A horn honked outside and she stuffed the letter into her purse and swung the strap over her shoulder before hurrying out of the office. She’d call William Duhon, the attorney who’d sent the letter, first thing in the morning. Then she’d call her boss to say she was taking a long overdue vacation...for the long overdue purpose of addressing her past.

Chapter Two

Tyler Duhon stared in dismay across the café table at his father, William, Calais’s resident attorney. Not even Johnny’s absolutely stellar banana pudding could sweeten Tyler’s disposition toward what his father had just asked him to do.

“No way,” Tyler said. “Look, I promise I’m not going to be lying around on your couch all day for months on end. I’ll be starting my own security firm as soon as I get all the permits and approved formation documents.”

William pushed his empty bowl to the edge of the table and took another sip of coffee. “I’m not worried about my couch. Your mother picked it out and I never liked it much—all those roses. And I’m well aware of your business pursuits as I filed the corporate formation documents for you last week.”

“Then what’s your angle?”

“I don’t have an angle. What I have is a spooky, partially repaired old house that has three deaths attached to it in as many months, and an heir who needs to occupy that house for two weeks in order to gain back everything that was stolen from her. I’d really like her to have an easier go of it than her sisters did.”

Tyler frowned. The happenings surrounding Trenton Purcell’s death and the subsequent arrival of two of Ophelia LeBeau’s daughters had set off a chain reaction of threats, break-ins, stalkers and eventually, three deaths—one murder and two in self-defense. But the facts paled in comparison to the sheer amount of disturbance that had rocked the sleepy bayou town.

“I’m not sure what you think I can do,” Tyler said finally.

“You plan on opening a security firm, don’t you? I expect you can protect the heiress and her assets. I’m not expecting you to do so for free. The estate will be happy to cover the cost of on-site security—in fact, in light of recent events, they’re requiring it.”

Tyler shook his head. “I’m opening a firm, but I’m not going to do any of the face-to-face work. I’m focusing solely on hardware and administration. I’ll hire some of my military buddies for the groundwork.”

William scrunched his brow. “You plan on sitting behind a desk all day? You’ll be bored within a week.”

I don’t think so.

“If I get bored,” Tyler said, “we’ll go shopping for a new couch. Mom’s been gone for years. It’s time you got some manly furniture in the place.”

William studied him, and Tyler forced himself not to squirm under his father’s scrutiny. Apparently, his attempt at levity hadn’t distracted his father for a moment. Tyler had never been able to hide anything from the shrewd attorney, who seemed to possess the ability to read minds. And more than anyone, his father knew how much Tyler hated sitting still—hated concentrating on paper and numbers and words. He was smart, but it had been a struggle to get him out of high school. He’d sit in class almost twitching with anxiety, wanting desperately to jump out a window and run until he sated his body’s always-demanding call to action.

It’s why he’d joined the Marine Corps as soon as he graduated.

The Marine Corps had immediately recognized that Tyler was able to sit still long enough to take a flight to where they needed him for action. Beyond that, and you risked a fidgety bored adult, carrying a weapon and expertly trained at using it. When Tyler wasn’t on maneuvers in the Middle East, he worked in the villages alongside the occupants, helping them rebuild their homes. He hadn’t sat behind a desk since high school, and he already knew he was going to be bored.

But you rarely saw people die when you sat behind a desk.

And that was the bottom line. He’d seen too much sadness, too much tragedy, and he needed to get away from it all. Which was why he was digging in his heels over the issue with the heiress. The last thing he wanted to do was sit all day in that monstrosity of a house with some fainting violet of a woman.

“I don’t know what happened overseas,” William said quietly, cutting into his thoughts. “I’d like to think that someday you’ll tell me. But I wouldn’t ask this of you if I had other options. The reality is, you’re the best person for the job and I need the best. This woman’s safety is on my conscience. I can’t rest if she’s not protected.”

Tyler held in a sigh, knowing he’d just lost the fight, but determined to give it one last parting shot. “What about Carter? He’s definitely capable, and his mother would make him do anything for you.”

William nodded. “Quite true, which is why Carter was tasked with verifying the daily presence of all the heirs. But Carter is Calais’s sheriff, and lately, that job is more than full-time. Not to mention that he has a new fiancée who lives with him, and it would be highly inappropriate for him to move in with her sister—even if only for two weeks and for the purpose of protecting her.”

Tyler’s parting shot faded into the distance, and he let out the sigh. If anyone but William had tried such a line on him, he would have accused them of attempting to guilt him into doing what they wanted, but that was something his father would never do. Which was why Tyler knew William was telling the truth when he said the woman’s safety weighed on his conscience. His father was a good man—the best, actually—and he wasn’t afraid to care about people.

Even if it cost him in the long run.

“Fine,” Tyler relented. “I’ll do it. But only for the two weeks the estate requires her to be there. If she wants to stay and redecorate or open a knitter’s colony or something, she’s on her own. And I have no intention of sitting and staring at her all day. You want me in the house, that’s fine, but I want to talk to the contractor and get a list of things I can work on while I’m there.”

William beamed at him. “Thank you, Tyler. I’m sure Zach can provide you with plenty of items that need attention.”

Tyler nodded. Zach Sargent was the contractor William had hired to make repairs on the house, but he’d had other reasons for coming to Calais. Zach’s father, a funeral director, was one of the many people Purcell had paid off, and Zach took the job in order to figure out exactly what his father’s attempted deathbed confession and the large cash deposit had entailed. Zach hadn’t gotten the answers he’d hoped for, but he’d formed a relationship with the youngest of Ophelia’s daughters and had moved back to New Orleans, with her in tow. He returned to Calais on weekends to continue repairs on the house.

“You don’t know how relieved I am that you’ll be my eyes and ears in that house,” William said.

“Why? Surely, it’s all over now.”

William’s smile faded away and he shook his head. “Much of Purcell’s evil intentions and those who carried them out have been exposed, that’s true.”

“But?”

“But I still have a bad feeling about all of it.”

“Of course you do. Purcell was a hit man for the New Orleans mafia who romanced Ophelia LeBeau for her money and a safe hiding place when his own employer put a hit on him. Then he killed her and sent her kids away like they were department store returns. I’ve got lots of feelings about it myself, and trust me, all of them are bad.”

“We don’t know for certain that Purcell killed Ophelia.”

“Then what was he paying all those people for?”

William nodded. “Oh, we’re certain Purcell was paying for silence, and I’d guess it’s exactly as you say and he killed Ophelia, but we still can’t prove it. And with everyone on his payroll dead, there’s no one left to ask.”

“And that’s exactly my original point—all the bad guys are dead.”

William stared out the plate-glass window of the café and looked across the street into the swamp. Finally, he looked back at Tyler and leaned across the table.

“I don’t think they are all dead.” William’s voice was barely more than a whisper. “The swamp is wrong. You don’t even have to enter it to feel it. Something is still out of balance, and I don’t think the swamp will rest until it churns up all its secrets.”

If it were anyone else speaking or if his father were talking about anywhere else but Calais, Tyler would suggest he needed professional help. But the swamps of Mystere Parish were different than any place he’d ever been. Although he’d been surrounded by them his entire childhood, and had traipsed through them thousands of hours, Tyler had never felt at ease in the dense cypress trees and foliage.

It was as if the swamp itself was alive.

Certainly, the swamp comprised lots of living things, but it was something more than that—as if the swamp were a separate living entity, with its own agenda. At times, it was pleasant enough, but he’d never found the atmosphere relaxing, even though parts of it were beautiful. At other times, it had been oppressive, the weight of it pressing in around him.

That oppressive weight had always aligned with something tragic, usually death.

If the swamp was out of balance, then something was still very wrong in Calais. Given that the only recent tragedies all centered on the LeBeau estate, Tyler understood why his father was so anxious to ensure that Ophelia’s middle daughter was offered the best protection he could provide. The swamp wouldn’t return to a peaceful state until a reckoning had occurred.

“What do you think is wrong?” Tyler asked.

“I don’t know, and that’s what bothers me the most. But we may get some answers soon.”

“How’s that?”

His father looked at him, his expression sad and haunting. “We’re exhuming Ophelia LeBeau tomorrow.”

Chapter Three

As she pulled through Calais, Joelle studied the old buildings, looking for something that appeared familiar. The weathered brick buildings were typical of any old small town, but none of them sparked even a twitch of memory. The café caught her interest as she pulled by, but only because she planned to spend her two weeks allowing others to cook for her. She hoped the food was good, as it appeared to be the only option.

Her stomach rumbled as her thoughts turned to food, and she realized it was well past lunch. She’d almost stopped several times, but each time she pressed the accelerator and continued down the highway, anxious to get the long drive over with. Unfortunately, she had arranged to meet the attorney at the house in about ten minutes, so eating would have to wait a bit longer.

As soon as she passed the last building on Main Street, she pulled a paper with directions from her purse. She’d gotten this far without referring to the attorney’s instructions, but when the directions started including items such as “turn right at the giant oak tree,” it was time to pay attention. The last thing she wanted to do was to get lost in the swamp.

She turned to the right at a four-way stop, directing her car onto a semblance of a road. The economy rental she’d acquired before leaving Jackson was no match for the bumps and holes that mostly made up the dirt trail that led to the house, and she gritted her teeth as the dashboard rattled. She swerved to miss a huge hole, but her right front tire caught the edge of it and the entire car dropped. Cringing at the sound of the bottom of the car sliding across rocks, she clenched the steering wheel and leaned forward to get a better look at the road.

The cypress trees that lined both sides of the road grew thicker, creating a canopy above the road that blocked most of the sunlight from entering. If she hadn’t known any better, she would have sworn it was late evening rather than mid-afternoon. Surely, the house couldn’t be much farther.

Fifteen minutes later, she rounded a corner and the house burst into view. Continuing her slow creep around what remained of the circular driveway, she looked up at the place she’d spent the first four years of her life, waiting for that spark of recognition to hit. She was disappointed when it never came.

A new pickup truck was parked in front of the house, and she pulled up behind it and parked, figuring it belonged to the attorney. She jumped out of the car and stretched her aching legs and cast a glance back at the car. She’d rented the economy vehicle to try it out, thinking she might purchase the same model to replace her totaled Honda. The tiny car would be a huge benefit in the city, where she rarely drove more than twenty miles in one stretch, but after hours on the road, she was well aware of just how cramped her long legs were in such a compact space.

Her suitcases could wait until after she’d spoken to the attorney, so she headed up to the front door. When she raised her hand and knocked, the door inched forward just a bit. She pushed the door open and stuck her head inside.

“Mr. Duhon,” she called out. “It’s Joelle LeBeau.”

She waited a bit, expecting the attorney to appear or at least respond, but only her own voice echoed through the giant entry. Deciding the attorney must be off in a part of the house where he couldn’t hear her, she stepped inside, then drew up short. A twinge of something—some tiny flicker of recognition—flashed through her, but as soon as she tried to grasp it, the flicker disappeared.

The entry was massive, like the entry of a hotel or museum. The giant spiral staircase was centered toward the front and she peered up to see the balcony running around the entire second floor, doors to various rooms lining the upstairs walls. The first floor of the entry was littered—there wasn’t really a better word—with decorative columns and tables, all housing art, china and glass that seemed to have no consistency of era or country of origin.

To the left, a wide hallway led away from the entry. Patches of sunlight streamed from the room at the end of the hallway and onto the stone floor. Figuring the hallway led to a family room or kitchen, she took off to the left, hoping to locate the attorney.

The kitchen and breakfast nook were in sharp contrast to the rest of the house and had her smiling. Clearly, someone had put in long hours on this room and it showed—the gleaming cabinets, polished countertops and fresh coat of paint made the room a cheery retreat from the gloomy entry. Giant windows formed the far wall, along with a single door that led onto an overgrown patio.

She gazed around the room once more before readying herself to continue her search for the attorney, and that’s when she realized the patio door was partially open. Now understanding why the attorney hadn’t heard her call out in the entry, she stepped outside and looked up and down the long stone patio. Shrubs and brush had grown right up to the edges, and vines climbed the stone columns and trailed across the ground, but it was clear that someone had recently started clearing the brush away.

Following a trail of small branches and leaves, she walked to the far end of the patio and saw the tiny path that led straight into the swamp. The remnants of foliage continued down the path, but Joelle hesitated before stepping off the stone patio. Something about the swamp bothered her—more than just the dim, creepy appearance.

She was just about to head back inside and wait for the attorney when a voice sounded behind her and she jumped, her foot slipping off the edge of the patio and onto the path several inches below. She struggled to maintain her balance, but the drop was just enough to send her crashing into the brush at the side of the trail.

As soon as she hit the ground, she scrambled to get up, fighting the thick vines that she’d brought down on top of her. Suddenly, she felt someone grasp her arm and tug her completely to her feet. A branch slapped her across the face and her eyes watered, so the only thing she could make out when she was upright was a tall man with dark hair.

Brad.

Instantly, a mental image of her ex-boyfriend flashed across her mind, and just as quickly, she sent it scurrying to the recesses where it belonged. Brad was long gone and old news.

She blinked a couple of times and the man came into focus, but this young, incredibly gorgeous and seriously ripped man couldn’t possibly be the aging attorney she’d talked to on the phone. The scowl on his face was just further proof. The attorney had been kind and cheerful. This man looked like those attributes were not part of his makeup.

“I hope you’re not always this jumpy,” he said. “A fall in the horror funhouse could bring more than just vines crashing down around you.”

A blush ran up her neck and onto her face, and she felt a flash of heat wash over her. “Maybe if you didn’t go sneaking up behind people, you wouldn’t startle them.”

He raised his eyebrows, looking almost amused at her accusation. “I’m wearing work boots, and I was hardly tiptoeing across that patio. Hell, people back in town could hear me coming.”

“Really? Then maybe you should tell them why you’re trespassing on private property.”

He sighed. “You must be Joelle. My father owes me big-time for this.”

Joelle narrowed her eyes at him. “Exactly who is your father?”

“William Duhon.”

“Oh,” she said, momentarily taken aback that the pleasant gentleman she’d spoken to on the phone had produced such a surly son. “Your father was supposed to meet me here. Is he on his way?”

“He’s not coming.”

“What do you mean? He’s supposed to provide me a key to the house and go over any of my questions concerning the estate requirements.”

“Well, you got me instead.” He pulled a giant iron key from his pocket and handed it to her. “That’s the front door key. I’m having keys to the patio and back door duplicated and will pick them up this afternoon.”

“Am I supposed to meet your father at his office?”

If possible, he looked even more aggrieved.

“No. I’m supposed to take you to meet him for an early supper at the café, after I get you settled in.”

She stared. Was he joking? The last thing she intended to do was get in a car with Mr. Personality.

“I’m sure I can find my way back to the café, the same way I found the house,” she said. “I don’t need an escort.”

“My father says you do, and unfortunately for me and you, so does the estate. During your two-week stay in Calais, I will go wherever you go.”

“That’s outrageous! Neither the estate nor your father can mandate who I spend my time with.”

“No, but they can insist you maintain personal security at all times, and they have.”

“What in the world for? To protect me from the clutter and dust I saw in there? The only risk to my safety so far has been you, and I’m supposed to believe you were assigned to protect me?”

He clenched his jaw and she could tell she’d insulted him, just as she’d intended.

“Well,” he said, “I managed to sneak up on you in broad daylight wearing construction boots, right? I’m guessing that makes my observation skills a sight better than your own.”

He whirled around and strode away from her.

“I’ll get your things out of your car,” he mumbled as he left.

Joelle stared behind him wondering if the entire world had gone crazy.

I will go wherever you go.

She stiffened. Surely that didn’t mean he was staying in the house with her. Granted, she had her apprehensions about staying in the spooky, rambling mansion alone, but if the choice were Mr. Personality or the ghosts, she’d definitely take the ghosts.

* * *

TYLER STALKED AROUND the side of the house to the front where Joelle’s car was parked. She’d left it unlocked, which surprised him at first given that his father said she was some sort of social worker, but then she probably figured no one was roaming this far out in the swamp looking to lift items from a car.

If only she were right. Then he’d be sitting on his dad’s couch watching television instead of fending off insults.

Likely, no one would lift items from her car, but if his father’s instincts were correct, someone was still roaming around the estate. At least this time, a full-time security detail was on-site and prepared for battle. Tyler wasn’t about to let someone get the better of him in his own neck of the woods.

He grabbed two suitcases from the backseat of the car and carried them inside, still trying to figure out how he was supposed to manage two full weeks around Joelle LeBeau. When his father told him Joelle was a social worker, Tyler had formed a mental picture of some motherly-type woman—probably heavyset—and with a kind smile.

The tall, curvy Creole beauty he’d pulled out of the bushes was the last thing he’d ever expected and, certainly, the last thing he wanted. Gorgeous, endangered women were part of a past he intended to put far behind him, which was precisely the reason he wanted to sit at a desk until he passed out from boredom. During his eight years in the Middle East, he’d had enough excitement to last a lifetime.

During the last twelve months, he’d had enough beautiful women to last ten lifetimes.

Chapter Four

Joelle looked across the table at William Duhon, as charmed by the aging attorney as she was frustrated by his son. Clearly, Tyler hadn’t inherited any of his father’s charisma. Her private security detail hadn’t spoken a word during the entire drive into Calais, and after arriving at the café, had opened his mouth only long enough to tell his father that he needed to pick up some supplies at the general store and would meet them back at the café in an hour or so. William appeared a bit embarrassed by his son’s behavior, but just nodded and directed her to a booth in the far corner.

“I apologize for the rather unconventional meeting location,” William said, “but I recall you saying when you called from New Orleans that you hadn’t stopped to eat. I figured we could accomplish two things at once.”

Joelle took another bite of sirloin steak, smothered in gravy and onions, and said a silent prayer of thanks that she hadn’t stopped for fast food on the way to Calais.

“It was worth the wait,” she said.

William smiled. “Johnny’s mother was the best cook in Calais. When he opened this place, it was with the intention to use only her recipes, and he’s kept it that way for thirty years.”

“If it’s not broken...”

“Quite so. Johnny’s made a good business here. Most everyone has at least a couple meals a week at the café. Make sure you save some room for banana pudding. That’s the dessert special today.”

“Banana pudding?” She looked down at her plate. “Maybe I’ll take half of this home for supper. I may have to start jogging while I’m here.”

William pointed out the plate-glass window to a building across the street. “I’m convinced that this café is the reason the seamstress shop stays in business—letting out waistbands and such.”

“It probably won’t come to that. My brief glance at the downstairs of the house provided a mental list of things to do that is as long as the Mississippi. I won’t have any problem getting my exercise in.”

Quite frankly, the state of the house had surprised her more than anything else she’d heard so far. She never expected that her stepfather would keep it up, but he’d been dead for months. Surely, the estate could afford to hire a cleaning service.

“Can I ask a question?” she asked.

“Of course. That’s what I’m here for.”

“Can the estate hire someone to help with the cleaning? Even if I worked on it full-time for two weeks, I couldn’t put a dent in it.”

William sighed. “The big services in New Orleans won’t travel this far out for the job, especially with no hotel to place the crew in. I’ve hired several local women, but they never last more than a day.”

“Why not? Surely, jobs are hard to come by here.”

“Absolutely, and they could all use the money, but they were too afraid to continue working.”

“Afraid of what?”

“They claim they saw a ghost.”

Joelle stared. “You’re serious?”

“Yes.” William frowned and hesitated a moment before continuing. “There’s been some unpleasantness surrounding the house.”

“What do you mean?”

“Your sister Alaina had a stalker who tried to kill her. Sheriff Carter Trahan, now Alaina’s fiancé, shot and killed him in the front drive of the house.”

“Oh, my! Alaina is all right, though?”

“She’s fine. After all that was put to rest, we hoped Danae would have an easier time with her two weeks, but a different set of problems surfaced.”

William took a deep breath and blew it out before continuing. “I don’t know how to say this in a good way, so I’m just going to lay out the facts. Your stepfather used estate money to buy assets and then sell them. He had the authority to use estate money to purchase investment property—such as art—but could not request cash withdrawals outside of a small living allowance.”

“So that’s why we still have an estate to inherit,” Joelle said, one of her questions answered. “I wondered about that.”

William nodded. “Danae accepted contract work with the estate to go through all the paperwork in the house, and she located some of Purcell’s personal accounting records. The records show large cash receipts, which we think are from the sale of the assets acquired using estate money, but they also show large cash disbursements.”

“I thought he became a hermit after we left. What was he purchasing?”

“Part of the money spent was on you girls.”

“Us? I doubt that. Purcell hated us. Even as young as I was, I could feel it.”

“No doubt you’re right.” William paused for a couple of seconds and frowned. “Your adoptive parents passed away, correct?”

Joelle nodded. “They were already in their fifties when they took me in. They’d never been able to have their own children, and even though they knew it would be a struggle at their age, keeping up with such a young child, they knew it was their last chance at being parents.”

William’s expression softened. “They were good people, then?”

“The best. Of course, I would rather have been with my mother and sisters, but given the circumstances, I couldn’t have asked for a better place to go.”

“I, uh, don’t want to do anything to diminish your opinion in any way, but it appears that Purcell paid each family twenty thousand dollars to take you girls in.”

Suddenly, something Joelle had never understood clicked. “My college fund.”

“What do you mean?”

“My adoptive parents didn’t make a lot of money. I always assumed I’d need loans to pay for college, but they established a fund for me when I came to live with them. I’ve seen the records. They opened the account with twenty thousand dollars. I always wondered where it came from.”

William’s relief was apparent. “That’s wonderful. Just wonderful.”

“You said part of the money was spent on the families that took us in. What else did he pay for?”

“I apologize in advance, because this is most distressing, but we suspect he paid for silence. So far, we’ve discovered payments to the man who pronounced your mother’s death and the funeral director in New Orleans who handled her burial.”

A wave of nausea rolled over Joelle as William’s words clicked in her mind. “No, you’re not saying...”

“I’m so sorry to have to tell you this,” William said, “but we think Purcell killed your mother to get control of her money. He probably didn’t know that the terms of the estate would prevent him from taking control of the cash.”

Her chest felt as if an entire city block had been dropped on it. She tried to concentrate on controlling her breathing, but every intake of air felt as if a burning dagger stabbed her lungs. Her mind slipped to the past and she steeled herself for the vision that would surely come.

“Are you all right?”

William’s voice seemed far away, and it took her several seconds to force herself back to the present—back to Johnny’s Café in Calais. She couldn’t afford to slip into the past, especially not to the dark place. Not if she had any intention of making it the two weeks she needed to fulfill the estate requirements.

She took a big drink of water and nodded. “I’m okay. It’s just shocking.”

“It is,” William agreed. “I still have my moments when I think it all must be a mistake, but the facts all seem to point that way, especially as one of the men Purcell paid kidnapped Danae and tried to kill her.”

Joelle’s heart dropped once more at the thought of her baby sister kidnapped and fighting for her life. “I can’t believe it. It’s like something out of a movie.”

“Perhaps, if it’s a horror movie. Of course, there’s quite a bit more research to be done as we try to get to the bottom of things. Danae is still going through household records...there’s something else.”

Joelle stiffened, not certain she wanted to hear anything else. If William’s hesitation was any indication, then what he was about to tell her wasn’t going to be any better than what she was already trying to absorb.

“How much more can there be?”

“This is a big one, I’m afraid. Given that there’s mostly only circumstantial evidence and hearsay as to Purcell’s crimes, your sisters requested that your mother be exhumed.”

Joelle stared. “They’re hoping to find evidence of murder. After all these years, is that even possible?”

“Anything’s possible, although it’s probably not likely. But Alaina and Danae felt they had to try everything. They would have waited for you to make the decision but, at the time, I had no idea how long it would take to locate you.”

Joelle waved a hand in dismissal. “I don’t mind any of that. I agree with their choice. I want answers as much as they do.”

“That’s a relief. I’m sorry to dump all this on you the second you arrive. Your sisters planned to tell you everything when you met, but I asked them to allow me to speak to you instead. I didn’t want your reunion marred by all this unpleasantness. I want you girls to focus on getting to know one another again.”

Joelle smiled at William, his thoughtfulness such a departure from the people she normally dealt with. “Has anyone told you how wonderful you are, William?”

The attorney blushed a bit. “Just doing my job.”

“We both know you’re doing far more than that. I remember you said someone would verify my presence on the estate each day. Will you be doing that or will Tyler report to you?”

“Actually, Carter Trahan has an agreement with the estate to perform the verification duties for all three of you. Given everything that’s happened, he’s also busy trying to investigate Purcell and those who may have been on his payroll.”

“Carter is the sheriff, right?”

William nodded. “And will become your brother-in-law next year.”

Joelle struggled to wrap her mind around it all. Two sisters, a future brother-in-law, a potential fortune and a sulking bodyguard. Only the bodyguard ruined the perfect picture.

That, and kidnapping, and attempted murder.

Before she could change her mind, Joelle launched into her next set of questions. “Your son...Tyler...I get the impression he’s not overly happy with his job.”

William sighed. “I noticed his manners weren’t exactly up to par when you arrived. I apologize that he didn’t provide a warm welcome.”

“He’s a grown man. You don’t need to apologize for him.”

“In this case I do, as I’m responsible for putting him in a position he didn’t want to be in. Given everything that has happened with your sisters, the estate insisted on twenty-four-hour, on-site security for you, and I put pressure on Tyler to provide it.”

“After everything you’ve told me, I completely understand the estate’s position, but why Tyler? If he doesn’t want to do it, why did you pressure him to?”

“Because he’s the best man for the job,” William said simply. “Tyler was a securities expert for the Marine Corps. He kept entire military bases safe while ferreting out the secrets of the enemy. If he can’t protect you, I’m not sure anyone can.”

Some of Tyler’s stiff, direct approach to things now made sense. “He was in the Middle East?”

William nodded.

“How long?”

“Eight years. He arrived back in the States only two weeks ago. He’s starting a private security firm as soon as the formation documents are approved by the state.”

“Well,” Joelle said, processing all this new information. “I suppose tolerating a bit of a grouch is a small cost for the level of protection I’m getting in return.”

William gave her a small smile. “He wasn’t always this grouchy. His time overseas changed him, but he won’t talk about it.”

The attorney sighed. “I’m sure he saw horrific things. Hearing about them on the news is bad enough, but to see it firsthand and then feel some level of responsibility because it happened...I imagine it’s a lot of weight for any man.”

Instantly, Joelle’s training kicked in and she slipped directly into psychologist mode, momentarily chiding herself for making something personal when that was rarely the case. “I’m sure you’re right. So what can I do to make the transition easier?”

“Communicate your plans with him and don’t try to fight his presence, even though I’m sure it will feel awkward and inconvenient at times. Allow him to do physical labor. He’s not made for sitting behind a desk, although he thinks that’s what he needs to do. Movement keeps his mind focused and his body ready for action. He’s been that way his entire life.”

Joelle nodded. “He was clearing brush from the back patio when I arrived. Now that I think about it, I suppose it was a two-point process—he worked off some energy, and the more brush that’s cleared away from the house, the easier it will be to see someone approaching.”

William’s expression softened and his eyes misted up just a bit. “Your mother would be so happy to see how you girls turned out. Despite all the obstacles placed in your path, you’re all self-confident, intelligent and compassionate. She couldn’t have asked for more.”

A blush ran up her neck at William’s compliments. “Thank you. It’s so nice to finally talk to people who knew my mother, and I can’t wait to meet Alaina and Danae.”

“They’re visiting this afternoon?”

“Yes. Alaina was in New Orleans on business, but she is going to pick up Danae and they’ll both be here late this evening. They have to be back in New Orleans tomorrow, so we’re planning a slumber party.”

“How delightful!”

Joelle nodded, hoping the attorney was right. More than anything in the world, she wanted to meet her sisters, but the reality was, she was nervous. Based on everything she’d heard, Danae and Alaina had already formed a close bond. What if they didn’t like her? What if the passage of time had removed that connection between them?

She took a big sip of water and told herself to relax. Her sisters were alive and well and spending a night with her catching up. In two weeks, all of them would inherit everything that was temporarily stolen from them.

Nothing or no one was going to put a damper on her happiness.

* * *

TYLER PICKED UP a bag of chocolate chip cookies and a six-pack of beer and set them on the counter in the general store. The owner, Samuel, was tied up in the back helping a man load his new lawn mower onto his truck, so Tyler leaned back against the counter and grabbed a hunting magazine to flip through while he waited.

“Only two weeks out of the Corps and you already have bachelor shopping down,” a voice sounded in front of him.

Tyler looked up at a grinning Carter Trahan.

Despite Tyler’s general disgust at his current predicament, he couldn’t help but smile as he shook Carter’s extended hand.

“I’m sorry I missed you when you came by my dad’s house,” Tyler said.

Carter waved his hand in dismissal. “You’re working on your business stuff. I’m working on solving ancient murders. I knew we’d run into each other eventually.”

“I guess it’s hard to go too long without seeing someone in a town as small as Calais.”

Carter nodded. “It’s certainly a different pace than New Orleans. I imagine you’re in an even bigger culture shock, relocating from a war zone halfway across the world.”

“It’s been...interesting. Sometimes I still have these moments of panic, where I think there’s something I was supposed to do that I didn’t.”

“I know exactly what you mean. Between the caseload and the constantly increasing paperwork requirements, New Orleans cops are to the point of needing personal secretaries to keep up.”

“Do you ever miss it?”

“I did a little at first. It was too slow, too quiet and I think I spent a lot of time feeling guilty because it was too easy.”

“Trenton Purcell’s death seems to have changed all that.”

“You got that right. If anyone had told me before I came here that this much crime—running this far back—could happen in a place like Calais, I would have laughed. It’s hard to believe one man can cause such a ripple of crime that lasted past his own death.”

Tyler nodded, thinking about everything his father had told him about the situation. “My dad told me you found out Purcell was a hit man and probably took up with Ophelia for a place to hide.”

“Yeah, at first I thought Purcell married her figuring he could get Ophelia to move away from Louisiana, but with everything I know now, I’m guessing he planned to kill her from the beginning. He wouldn’t have known about the will. He probably assumed he’d get everything when she was gone. When I think about everything those girls lost because of him...”

Tyler felt a flicker of guilt over the terse way he’d handled meeting Joelle. She and her sisters were the living victims in the middle of this mess. She certainly hadn’t asked for her mother to be murdered and for her stepfather to send her off to strangers. He’d been so busy worrying about his own needs that he hadn’t really stopped to consider how difficult this must be for her—for all of them.

“Alaina and Danae are fine, right?” Tyler asked. “I mean...considering everything that’s happened.”

“They are both incredibly strong women,” Carter said, and Tyler could hear the admiration in his voice. “Most people would have crumbled under the stress of the discoveries alone, much less the attempts on their lives. But those two just got mad and more determined.”

Tyler smiled. “You have to admire that.”

“Definitely. It helps that they have each other. They’re thick as thieves. You’d never know they spent most of their lives apart.”

“Hopefully Joelle will fit as well with them.”

“I don’t think they’re going to give her a choice. Your dad tells me he’s got you on security detail.”

Tyler sighed. “I tried to get out of it, but you know Dad.”

Carter laughed. “Oh, yeah, I know your dad. Between him and my mom, I could be talked into most anything. This whole mess started for me when your dad asked me to play hall monitor. I ended up with a kidnapping, three deaths and a fiancée.”

Tyler winced at the fiancée part of Carter’s statement. “I’m not looking to acquire any of those on my Calais service record, especially the last one.”

Carter grinned. “And you think I was? Have you met Joelle yet?”

“Yeah, she arrived this afternoon. I brought her to town for a meeting with my dad at the café.”

“So how does she look?”

Tyler shrugged, not about to go into details of the delicious Joelle with Carter. “She looks like a woman.”

Carter’s grin widened. “That good, huh?”

“I didn’t say anything like that.”

“You didn’t have to. I know both her sisters, and I know that look. I used to wear it. Joelle is a knockout and that pisses you off even more.”

Tyler sighed. “Remind me again why we’re friends?”

Carter laughed and clapped Tyler’s back. “Because I keep you honest.”

“Is that even possible?” A man’s voice boomed from behind them.

Tyler turned around as Mayor James Dupree stepped up to him, his hand extended.

“It’s good to have you home,” Mayor Dupree said. “I know your daddy must be relieved.”

“Yes, sir, I imagine he is.” Tyler shook the man’s hand and hoped that he had an appointment that didn’t allow him to hang around for long. Mayor Dupree was a marathon talker and had never once said anything even remotely interesting.

“Good to see you, Carter.” Mayor Dupree nodded. “How’s that pretty fiancée of yours doing?”

“She’s fine, sir,” Carter replied and rolled his eyes at Tyler as soon as Mayor Dupree looked away.

“Good, good,” Mayor Dupree said and studied Tyler again. “So what will you be doing now that you’re home?”

“I’m opening a security firm. Maybe city hall can use my services.”

The mayor laughed. “Well, we’re still holding council meetings at the café, so you’d have to wait until we build a city hall. I hope you have some other clients in mind, as that might be a while in coming.”

“Actually, I’m doing some work for my dad.”

“The LeBeau estate?”

“Yes.”

The mayor shook his head. “That has been such an unfortunate set of circumstances. I never would have imagined such things could happen in Calais.”

Carter cleared his throat. “I thought you and Roger Martin were friends from way back. I would have figured you’d know if he was plotting things with Trenton Purcell.”

Mayor Dupree sighed. “I wish I had known. Maybe I could have talked him out of it. Maybe all this would have turned out differently.”

“Maybe,” Carter said. “You know, I’m pretty sure Purcell had more than just Roger on his payroll. Since you were around then, maybe you’d have an idea who I should take a closer look at.”

“I wish I did, and I’ll be sure to let you know if I think of something. Well, I’ve got to run. You two stay out of trouble.” He gave them a nod and hustled out of the store quicker than Tyler thought his flabby frame would allow.

Tyler stared after him and frowned. “Should I be happy he didn’t stick around and talk us to death, or suspicious and wonder why?”

“Number two.”

“Any particular reason other than him being friends with Roger?”

“Yeah. If Joelle doesn’t make her two weeks, the city of Calais inherits millions’ worth of LeBeau assets.”

“You think he knows that?”

“Do you?”

“The way he left... Wow, all that money and under the control of the good mayor,” Tyler said, a whole new train of thought opened up with that bit of information. “My dad really needs to learn to talk more about things that matter.”

Carter smiled. “Come on, I’ll buy you a root beer float and we can talk about your ideas for security now that you’ve seen the house, and I can try to fill in any blanks that William might have left.”

Tyler checked his watch but figured his dad and Joelle would probably be a while longer. Besides, the general store had an old-fashioned soda fountain with the best root beer floats in the South, and he did have some things he wanted to run by Carter after seeing the house. His friend had suggested a casual planning meeting over a drink, but Tyler could tell Carter was worried, and Carter Trahan was the last person to go off on a tangent.

Maybe his dad was right. Maybe it wasn’t over.

Chapter Five

Joelle pushed her feet against the floorboard of Tyler’s truck, wishing he could navigate the bumpy road at a faster pace. She’d been finishing up with William when her cell phone rang with Alaina’s call. Her sisters had forgotten to call when they left New Orleans and had lost cell service not far outside of the city. By the time she’d gotten a signal again, Alaina was only ten minutes from Calais.

Instant panic set in with Joelle. She hadn’t had time to assess supplies at the house, much less get to the general store to fill in the gaps. And what about the sleeping arrangements? Were the linens clean or was that one other job she’d already fallen down on? She assumed at least one bedroom was suitable for habitation but they needed more than one.

William had immediately clued in to her distress and calmed her down by assuring her that her sisters were well aware of the living conditions and their only requirement was seeing her. Joelle appreciated William’s kind approach to her crisis, but that didn’t solve the problem of upbringing, and Joelle’s adoptive mother had been a real stickler for manners. No way could she allow people in her home—or what would be her home for the next two weeks—without attempting to be a good host.

They’d left the café and headed to the general store to see if Tyler was ready to leave. Even though William had already assured her she didn’t need to provide anything for Alaina and Danae, Joelle picked up the best bottle of wine they had before hurrying out to jump in Tyler’s truck.

Now she wished she would have bought crackers and dip—something to pick at while drinking the wine. Something to keep her hands busy while she had her first conversation with her sisters since they were all children.

Tyler looked over at her and frowned. “Are you nervous?”

Surprised that he’d even spoken, much less at the question, Joelle had to think a couple of seconds before responding.

“Yes,” she finally admitted. “It’s all a bit overwhelming and surreal. Not just that I will finally be reunited with my sisters—which I thought would never happen—but with everything that’s happened surrounding our stepfather’s death.”

“I guess Dad filled you in on everything at lunch?”

“Probably not every detail, but I got the overview. As a social worker, I always think I’ve heard everything. Then occasionally, I’m still blown away at the things human beings will do to one another.”

“I know exactly what you mean.”

The sadness in his voice had her studying him for a moment, then she remembered—marine. “I guess you saw your share of horror overseas.”

“We all did.”

His speech was slightly abrupt, leaving her no doubt that his military service was something he didn’t wish to talk about. Another piece of her softened toward him, because she understood that on a level that people who didn’t deal every day with the horror of human behavior would never understand.

“I don’t know why I’m so nervous about seeing my sisters again. I mean, I’m excited but also nervous.”

He was silent for several seconds, and Joelle wondered if he’d even heard what she said. Or maybe he decided the conversation had gotten too girlie or too psychological.

“Maybe because you’re afraid you won’t fit with them,” he said finally.

She stared at him, surprised at his intuitiveness. “Yes, I think you’re right.”

“Everyone needs to be where they belong—whether that’s the place they live or a person they’re with. But I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”

“No? Why is that? Have you met my sisters?”

“I haven’t yet had the pleasure, but I’ve heard plenty about them from my dad. He thinks they’re the best things since cable television came to Calais. My dad likes most people, but he admires few. No one has said anything yet, but I’m going to guess that he’s planning on having Alaina take over his practice in Calais. She’s already doing some work for him.”

“Your dad is very sweet, but he also knew our mother, so it might make him a bit biased.”

“Maybe, but Carter Trahan didn’t know your mother. He’s marrying Alaina and vouches for Danae. Carter and I have been friends since the crib, and trust me when I say a more shrewd human being has not been invented.”

“I wish I would have gotten to the general store before he left. I’m looking forward to meeting him.”

“He’ll be keeping tabs on you for the estate, so I suppose you will soon enough.”

Joelle held in a smile. Tyler was so direct and practical. On a normal day, she dealt with so much fabrication and drama that his what-you-see-is-what-you-get style was refreshing.

“So what do you plan on doing while we’re conducting our Sisterhood Reunion?” she asked.

He frowned. “Staying out of the way.”

His dismay was so comical that she couldn’t hold in the laugh, but as he rounded the tree line and turned onto the circular drive in front of the house, she froze. The SUV in the driveway had a bumper sticker for a New England university. It had to be Alaina’s car.

“They’re here already,” she said, her voice barely a whisper.

Tyler parked next to Alaina’s vehicle. “I’m going to take a walk around the perimeter. I’ll be around if you need me.”

He jumped out of the truck and took off at a decent clip around the side of the house. Joelle’s nervousness ticked up another notch as the only person she had any connection with fled. Not that she blamed him. It was an uncomfortable situation for her and she was one of the parties involved. Anyone else would feel even more uncomfortable, especially men, who, in her experience, tended to avoid questionable social situations anyway.

Grabbing the bottle of wine and her purse, she took a deep breath, then climbed out of the truck. The front door was open a crack, and she pushed it the rest of the way and stepped inside. Voices echoed down the kitchen hallway and she started that way. The voices sounded happy and excited, which helped her nerves a bit, but when she reached the threshold of the kitchen, she paused.

What if they hate me? What if I hate them?

She said a silent prayer, then stepped around the corner into the kitchen.

A tall, thin woman with long black hair pulled back in a ponytail stood in front of the refrigerator, her back to Joelle. A shorter, curvier woman with shoulder-length black hair stood at the counter, arranging cheese and crackers on a tray.

They were so busy chatting, they didn’t hear her enter.

“Hello,” she managed.

Immediately, all activity ceased and they both whirled around to stare at her. Joelle sucked in a breath as she looked at the tall woman.

Alaina.

She’d always looked like their mother. Joelle could remember that now. For a split second, all three of them held in that position, then they rushed over to her.

“Joelle,” Alaina said as she stopped in front of Joelle, studying her face. “I remember now. You look like our father.”

Alaina teared up and threw her arms around Joelle.

“I never thought I’d find you two,” Alaina said. “It’s a dream come true.”

All of Joelle’s nerves slipped away as she hugged Alaina. It all came flooding back to her—the love and admiration she’d always had for her big sister. It was as if the years fell away and they were right back in step.

“My turn,” Danae said, clapping her hands.

Alaina laughed as she released Joelle, who turned to look at a smiling Danae.

“The dimples,” Joelle said. “I remember them.”

Danae’s smile widened and she wrapped her arms around Joelle, tightly squeezing her.

“I’m so glad William found you,” Danae whispered.

“Me, too,” Joelle said.

“This calls for a toast,” Alaina said.

Danae released her and they both looked over at their big sister, who was pouring champagne into beautiful crystal glasses.

“I cleaned some of the crystal to get ready for this moment,” Alaina said. “Please don’t tell me you don’t drink.”

Joelle laughed. “I’m not a professional, but at the moment, I can’t think of anything more perfect than champagne.”

Alaina smiled and her whole face brightened, her happiness so clear. “You haven’t had Danae’s cheesecake yet. I bet it’s more perfect than champagne, but she was cruel and wouldn’t let me try a piece before we left.”

Danae blushed a bit, clearly pleased with Alaina’s praise, and Joelle felt her chest tighten as if her heart were expanding inside it. All the anxiety and doubts she’d felt were wasted emotion. These women were so comfortable...so right.

She took the glass of champagne that Alaina offered her and watched as Alaina lifted her glass in the air.

“To sisters,” Alaina said. “To us.”

“To us,” Joelle and Danae repeated and they clinked their glasses together.

Joelle couldn’t remember any moment in her life more perfect than this one.

* * *

TYLER MADE HIS way around the back of the house, pushing through the dense undergrowth, looking for any sign that someone else had passed this way recently. If Carter and his father both felt things weren’t right on the LeBeau estate, then Tyler had no doubt they were right. If someone was prowling around the estate, he wanted to get a handle on it now and try to keep things from getting as out of hand as they had with Alaina and Danae.

So far, he’d turned up nothing. The house appeared tight as a drum. One window downstairs was broken, but it was boarded up. The rest were nailed shut. Danae’s fiancé, Zach, the contractor making repairs to the house, had made sure everything was sealed tight before he returned to his regular workweek in New Orleans and so far, Tyler hadn’t found a single thing the contractor had left undone.

Tyler knew the front door was the questionable point. It was a huge wooden double door, ornately carved, likely ridiculously expensive, and was equipped with ancient hardware complete with giant iron keys like those you’d see in a horror movie. In anticipation of Joelle’s arrival, he’d ordered some security equipment, but it hadn’t arrived until today. As soon as he finished his perimeter walk, he’d start setting up the equipment, beginning with the alarm on the front door.

When he rounded the corner for the side of the house containing the long patio, he paused, staring into the brush. Something looked off. He stepped into the trees and pushed through the foliage, working his way around a forty-foot-square region. On the surface, everything appeared normal, but the telltale signs of recent passage were visible to someone as skilled in tracking as Tyler was.

Some of the broken branches could be attributed to the storms that had swept through the area lately, but the depressions in the ground cover were the result of being trod upon. The ground cover was too dense to make out an actual footprint, but the size of the indentations was too large for any of the creatures that would normally roam the woods, except maybe bear. And if a bear had passed this way, Tyler would see far more damage to the branches.

He followed the depressions and the broken branches about twenty yards into the swamp before turning around. Someone could have traversed the swamp from any number of locations surrounding the house, and may have walked hundreds of yards or even miles to throw someone off the track. Likely, the tracks would come out on one of the many dirt paths that led through the swamp, easily reachable by an ATV. As most everyone in Calais owned or had access to an ATV, that didn’t narrow the suspect pool even a bit.

Turning back, he tried to track the depressions toward the house, but they seemed to end about twenty feet from the patio, which made no sense. Tyler could understand if a stalker had a viewpoint to simply observe the comings and goings of the house in order to plan a strike. The military often watched from one vantage point but attacked from another. But from this vantage point, all he could see was the corner of the house and a bit of the patio. No window or door offered a view inside, except for the small pane of glass on the exterior door off the laundry room. But he couldn’t see in that pane from his current position.

Deciding he wasn’t going to figure it out standing there, he made a mental note to keep an eye on this location and continued back to the patio. The stone patio didn’t leave any opportunity for tracks, so he checked the windows and scanned the nearby brush, but the only tracks he saw were his own from when he’d hauled away brush earlier that day.

As he made his way down the patio toward the kitchen, he heard the high-pitched voices of the three sisters. The excitement was clear in their tone, and Tyler was happy that Joelle’s reunion with her sisters seemed to be going so well. He’d had no doubt that would be the case, but he understood why Joelle was nervous. It was a whole lot to absorb, especially some twenty-five years later and after living so long as an adult with no family to speak of.

He had a key to the patio door that led into the kitchen, but didn’t want to startle them by letting himself in, so he rapped on the glass panes and waved when they whirled around. Joelle hurried to the door to let him in while her sisters stood there, clearly waiting for an introduction.

“Guys,” Joelle said, “this is William’s son, Tyler—my personal bodyguard.”

They both smiled and the taller one walked over to extend her hand. “I should have known,” she said. “You look just like your father. I’m Alaina.”

“Nice to meet you,” Tyler said. “You look like the pictures I’ve seen of your mother.”

Alaina beamed and Tyler understood why his old friend Carter had gotten himself tied down. Alaina LeBeau was gorgeous and, according to his father, brilliant. And from limited exposure, he’d already gathered she had personality to boot. Triple threat. Carter had made a good choice.

“You must be Danae,” he said and extended his hand to the youngest of Ophelia’s daughters. Danae was shorter and curvier than Alaina, and looked like a combination of Alaina and Joelle. Perhaps she’d taken after both parents, while Joelle looked more like their father. Not that it mattered. Apparently any combination of those genes produced good-looking women.

Danae shook his hand and smiled. “It’s nice to meet you. William talks so much about you. We’re thrilled that you’ll be checking up on Joelle. We worry about all of this, and it’s too much for Carter to handle alone.”

“Oh, he’s not checking up,” Joelle said. “He’s living here, going with me when I leave the house. For all I know, he might be sitting guard outside the bathroom when I shower.”

A flash of Joelle standing naked and wet under a shower stream bolted through his mind, and he felt his chest constrict. Instantly, he forced the image from his mind. The last thing he needed was to imagine Joelle—or any other woman—naked and vulnerable.

“I don’t think it will come to that,” he said. “Well, if you ladies are okay in here, I’m going to start installing a security alarm on the front door.”

“That’s a great idea,” Alaina said.

Danae waved a hand over the counter, which was loaded with food. “Do you want to eat? We brought a feast with us.”

“Not right now, but I will take you up on that later if you don’t mind.”

“It’s ready when you are,” Danae said.

“Thank you for installing an alarm,” Joelle said. “I know we’ll all feel better sleeping here tonight.”

Tyler gave them a nod and walked out of the kitchen.

“Stand outside the bathroom?” Alaina said. “I’d totally let him stand next to the shower and hold my towel.”

They all laughed, then he heard Danae say, “You’re awful. Entirely correct, but awful.”

He smiled as he went to the entry to retrieve his equipment. Even the strongest man’s ego couldn’t ignore such compliments from beautiful women. He’d almost slowed for a moment, wondering if Joelle was going to comment, but decided it was information he didn’t need.

Alaina and Danae were safe to admire. They were both attached to good men, but Joelle was risky. Granted, for all he knew, she could have a man back in Jackson, but he doubted it. She had a nervousness about her that seemed like a lack of recent socializing.

Maybe it’s just me.

The thought crossed his mind and he frowned. True, he wasn’t the most pleasant of people to be around, and he could have been a lot nicer when they’d met. He probably owed her an apology for his boorish behavior, but he wasn’t likely to offer one. Less said, soonest mended was pretty much his motto.

He grabbed the box and removed the alarm. What he needed to do was focus on the job. Because he knew from firsthand experience what happened when he got sidetracked.

That was something he never intended to do again.

* * *

HE WATCHED THE house from the safety of the swamp. The women occupied the kitchen, clinking champagne glasses and eating hors d’oeuvres. They thought they had it all, but they were wrong. If it was the last thing he ever did, he was going to get what was coming to him. What he was due.

The man was somewhat of a concern. He had that posture that screamed military and a bulge at his waist that spelled concealed weapon. Right now, he could see the man, installing a security alarm on the front door.

What a waste of time.

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