Chapter 6 #3
“What did she say about him? She wrote that she ran into him again. Did it seem like he was turning up unexpectedly, or did they make plans to see each other?” He’s in full investigative mode now and almost forgets to keep his tone somewhat gentle.
“It sounded like he often just happened to be at the same places she was. The bookstore, the grocery store … anywhere she went, there he was. She seemed to think it was a sign. Poor child.” She purses her lips again.
“But I told her I didn’t trust it.” She pauses, her eyes flicking back and forth.
“She was just so sure that he was harmless. They talked to each other whenever these run-ins happened, and she said he was never inappropriate or unkind.”
“Did she mention what they would talk about?”
“Just casual conversation mostly. They talked about books and movies. She was tickled when they realized that they had the same favorite food: lemon chicken.” She smiles, a distant look in her eyes.
Leroux clears his throat and adjusts himself in his chair. “Did you ever think that—”
“That he was gathering information about her? That he was doing this to stalk her or hurt her?” she interrupts, the distant look suddenly becoming present and stern.
He nods.
“I did. I contacted your department, in fact.”
Her words strike him like a missile. “You contacted the NOPD about this?”
She nods, locking eyes with him. “I talked to an officer by the name of Walker. I shared my concerns and was basically told to call back when he did something illegal.”
“Well, it’s hard. You can’t prosecute someone based on a bad feeling,” Leroux says.
She chuckles. “Yes, but when will it be standard to recognize that this kind of behavior can escalate?”
He is slightly taken aback. “You are absolutely right.” He takes out a small notebook, jotting down quick notes that make sense to only his eyes. “Do you know anything else about him? A last name? Do you know where he’s from?”
“She said he worked in St. Charles Parish. I don’t know a last name or really anything else.”
“Was there anything similar with Beth? Any people she spoke to you about that we should check out?” He knows it’s a long shot, but he has to shoot until the chamber is empty.
She shakes her head slowly. “Beth was less forthcoming with her encounters, if she had any.”
“Well, that’s at least somewhere for me to start.” He notes ST. CHARLES PARISH in all-capital letters before shoving the notebook back into his pocket.
He stands, holding Melissa’s journal in his hand.
He doesn’t say anything, just grasps it and looks at Sister Moreau.
She nods, silently allowing him to do what he has to and take the journal.
He knows it’s a sign of her trust, or maybe it’s a sign that her desperation matches his own. Either way, he’s thankful.
“Thank you,” he says.
“I worry, Detective. I have been praying for both girls’ safe return, but something inside me believes they’re already gone.”
He watches as that stern lip begins to tremble.
Her focused eyes become wet with the admission.
She’s been speaking about Melissa and Beth as if they are still coming home, back to the safe place she cultivated for them, but he can see that her faith is being tested once again.
“You don’t seem like the kind of person to count someone out. Don’t start now, Sister.”
She half smiles. “I’ll certainly try not to, Detective.”
He leaves Sister Moreau’s office, navigating through the bustling common areas and mentally cataloging the faces around him in case something else comes up. Could one of them be next? He trusts that Sister Moreau would have issued a warning.
Settling into the driver’s seat of his car, he begins to drive. Five minutes blur by before he pulls over onto a deserted side road, parking the car in the shade and opening the journal once more to that last haunting entry. He starts reading from where he left off.
I ran into Jeremy again.
I can’t help but think it’s something bigger that brings him to me so often.
You know how you can click with someone, but not understand why?
Of course you don’t. You’re a stack of paper bound together.
I just can’t deny the feeling of divine connection here.
Jeremy may be the thing I need to bring me out of this endless cycle of disappointment and …
I dunno. It just feels like something might be there.
I guess we will see, won’t we?
Love, love, love,
Melissa
The entry is signed off with a heart after her name—big and bubbly—just like how Sister Moreau described Melissa’s personality.
He shudders at the optimism in Melissa’s words.
He can feel her excitement about the unexplored possibilities.
She thought it was all coming together, and now she’s a missing person.
It’s chilling to witness someone’s unfulfilled potential like this.
The journal is loved. Each page was treated as a separate art project, decorated and adorned. She’s curated it, made it her own. It’s a testament to her emotions and her enduring hope. She had a lot of that. Maybe she still does.
Leroux’s hope shrinks with every hour that passes.