The House on Prytania (Royal Street #2)(30)
Author: Karen White
She beamed at me. “I do think I might have taught you a thing or two, Nola. Including a new word.”
“Make that two. I said ‘cattywampus’ the other day to describe the proximity of two buildings. I guess I’ve had a good teacher.”
“Well, you’re an excellent student. And after your family leaves and I can reclaim the Barbie head, we’ll work on more lessons. We haven’t gone over workout makeup yet.”
I gently pushed her into the room. “Later,” I said, grabbing hold of the knob and pulling the door shut. “Much,” I added quietly to the closed door.
“I heard that,” Jolene shouted from inside her room.
My laughter was cut off by the shrill ring of the phone sitting on the edge of the teacher’s school desk I’d inherited with the apartment. I grabbed the receiver before it could ring a second time, confetti flying as I lifted it to my ear. “Hello?”
The crackling sound of endless space filled my ear as I strained to hear through the static, anticipating the high-pitched tone of Melanie’s long-dead grandmother. Instead, I heard a low rumble, something otherworldly. Something between a growl and a laugh.
“Hello?” I repeated, hoping it was just a prank call, even while knowing that no calls, prank or otherwise, could come through a nonfunctioning phone. The sound diminished into a low guttural snarl from a thick-necked beast—worse, somehow, than the initial noise. Like a whispered threat instead of a scream. My hand began to shake enough that I had to hold the phone with both hands.
The sound ended abruptly, as if it had been sucked into the black hole from where it came, and it was replaced by the soft voice of an old woman. “Nola.” I pressed the receiver to my ear to hear better. The background static almost overcame the treacly voice.
“Yes. I’m here.”
“Adele. Adele is—”
The last word faded with a pop. “Adele is what?”
“Heeeeeeerrrrrre.” The word started softly before amplifying at the end, reminding me of the frightening Edison doll found in my aunt Jayne’s inherited house. That was a nightmare I wouldn’t be forgetting anytime soon.
I swallowed. “Okay . . .” I began, my voice flung out into open space.
“Help . . . Beau.” This was another voice, the voice of a young woman. More distinct than Grandma Sarah’s. But maybe that’s how it worked on the other side—you’re left with the voice you leave the world with. Yet there was something odd about it, too. I had a strange flash of a memory of a family vacation on the Isle of Palms, and then I was back in my apartment, holding a phone while talking to dead people.
“I’m trying,” I said, hoping I’d understood.
“Help . . . Beau,” repeated the same voice, followed by another loud popping noise that could have been a word, then “Sunny.”
“Help Beau and Sunny?” I shouted, hearing the dial tone, and just my voice speaking into the receiver. “Hello?” I said, even though I knew no one was there. Maybe I’d been imagining the whole thing.
“Everything all right?” Jaxson asked, glancing at the phone, then back at me.
“Yeah. Everything’s fine.”
“Can I get you a Coke or something? You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.”
I met his eyes, wanting to laugh. But I only nodded, knowing that if I opened my mouth a wild, maniacal sound would emerge.
As Jaxson headed for the kitchen, I stared at the phone in my hand, and I knew it was unplugged without even looking. I slammed the receiver back into the cradle, the flash of memory clear now. My sister and I used to sit in the shallow surf and talk underwater to see if we could understand each other. That’s the voice I’d just heard. A voice speaking from beneath the waves. Adele.
CHAPTER 11
I sat on the couch in the living room, Mardi sitting on the cushion next to me, his dark, soulful eyes staring up at me with concern. Jaxson placed a glass filled with ice and Coke into my hand. “Thanks.” My hands shook, rattling the ice, so I lowered the glass onto the Cowardly Lion coaster.
I motioned for Jaxson to sit next to me. Keeping my voice down, I said, “Would you mind if I asked you for another favor?”
He didn’t hesitate, which made me like him even more. “Sure, anything.” He put on the serious lawyer face that I always had trouble reconciling with the smattering of freckles on the nose that made him look like a perpetual boy.
“Actually, this is probably more of a favor from your uncle Bernie, if he’s up for it,” I said, referring to his retired-police-detective uncle, who’d played a huge part in discovering the story behind Sunny’s disappearance.
“Uncle Bernie’s itching to come out of retirement. He feels a little cheated not being able to close Sunny’s case.”
“I know. I think we all do.”
“But Sunny’s back now, so it all worked out in the end.”
“Did it, though? Yeah, Sunny’s back and everyone’s happy. But it’s not exactly the end, is it?”
Jaxson shook his head. “If you mean because no one has been convicted for her abduction, then no. But as Uncle Bernie said, the Ryans need to let it go. They got what they wanted. Messing with the Broussard family isn’t a good idea.”
“I know, and I agree—mostly. But Beau won’t let it rest. He wants to keep digging for evidence so that the truth about the Broussards’ involvement in Sunny’s abduction is out. And Jeanne Broussard’s real killer is exposed. You and Mimi and I all know that’s not in anyone’s best interests. Especially Beau’s, but I might as well be talking to a rock to get it to change its mind.”
Jaxson pressed his elbows into his thighs and leaned forward. “It’s not just a bad idea, Nola. It’s stupid, for all the reasons we already know. Antoine Broussard might be dead, but he has enough powerful friends and family who wouldn’t want his reputation sullied, regardless of the truth. I can have Uncle Bernie talk to Beau if you think that would help.”
“If I thought it would help, I’d ask. Instead, Sam, Sunny, and I have come up with another idea.”
He raised his eyebrows. “And Beau’s okay with this?”
I grimaced. “Beau doesn’t exactly know. Which means you can’t tell him, all right? Mimi’s in on it, too. She’s distracting him with another project while I . . .”