Chapter 32 #4
Pay attention. Forcing my eyes to stay open, I focused hard on the memory or thought that wouldn’t stop poking me. I looked back at the mirror and saw a face behind me. I blinked, and the face disappeared. And that’s when I remembered.
Beau. And me. And Madame Zoe. She was giving us the bags of stones and telling us that she’d given some to Adele. Right before she disappeared. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to think. My good leg buckled, and I slid down the armoire onto my knees.
I had found the stones. Adele’s stones. She’d had them with her when she died, and her killer had taken them along with the diamond in her engagement ring.
The diamond was long gone, no longer evidence of a murder.
But the stones remained with her killer, a telling clue.
As the wedding bands would be if Mimi got ahold of them.
And I had just told Camille that only Sarah knew where they were.
I wiggled out of my backpack and struggled to stay awake as I dug into the outside pocket for my phone. I needed to call Sarah and warn her.
“You look sleepy.” Camille’s sweet voice came from somewhere above me as I felt her tug on my backpack to slide it off my arm.
I blinked up at her, each blink slower than the last.
“That’s right, Nola. Go to sleep. I put enough of your pain meds into the soup to make you sleep like a baby.”
My cloudy brain struggled to understand what she was talking about. What was it about the soup? I could still taste it in my mouth, feel the grit on my teeth.
“Nobody will question why there’s so much of the meds in your system when they find your body, since you have a history of substance abuse. Not your usual poison, but not uncommon.”
The word “body” echoed in my head, but I couldn’t latch onto its meaning. I just wanted to go to sleep. I closed my eyes, but a cold, icy hand on my cheek startled me awake. The scent of Youth-Dew was stronger now, hovering close to me. “Sybil,” I tried to say, but only air emerged.
“I like you,” Camille said in a friendly voice. “I really do. Which is why I don’t want it to hurt. I hoped if you were sound asleep you wouldn’t feel a thing.”
She raised something that reflected the weak light from the window, and I recognized my phone. I tried to reach for it, but my hand wouldn’t obey.
Camille’s features came into focus. “I’m not a fan of technology, but facial recognition sure can come in handy.
” She held my phone over my face. I tried to distort my features so it wouldn’t recognize me, but from her look of satisfaction, I knew she’d gained access.
“I’m texting your sister so she can tell me where the rings are and I can clean up that loose end. ”
I felt her tugging on my feet, and then the sensation of being dragged across the floor.
Searing pain from my ankle shot up to my brain, bringing a cold blast of clarity.
My head bumped against the strip of wood at the threshold, jolting me fully awake.
I struggled to keep my eyes open, only barely aware of Camille stepping over me.
With one last futile effort, I tried to grab hold of the doorframe, but I felt myself sliding farther into the kitchen, next to a pile of salvaged millwork. “Just give in, Nola. Go on and go to sleep, and you won’t feel a thing.”
Somewhere on the floor above us, small feet ran in circles. With a punch of dread, I heard the heavy thud of bigger feet following them. I opened my mouth to scream, expelling only a small whine of air.
Camille straightened, and my phone slipped from her hand and hit the floor next to my head.
“Is there anyone up there?” she shouted, a hint of fear in her voice.
I listened as her footsteps cautiously ascended the bottom steps.
I smelled the perfume and felt small hands on my cheek.
They were sticky, as if they belonged to a small child.
Two female voices whispered loudly, the location of the source changing with each word, like in a magic trick.
“Mom?” I murmured, nearly delirious with the struggle to stay awake.
“Nola.” The word sounded inside my ear, radiating warmth on my cheek. I smelled the briny aroma of sea creatures and river mud, something I’d come to recognize as Adele’s signature scent. A tear rolled down my cheek. I wasn’t alone.
A patter of small footsteps descended the stairs, brushing by us and leaving a cold breeze in its wake.
“Is anyone up there?” Camille called again.
I would have laughed if I’d been able. The dark presence was all around us, pressing on my chest and making it hard to breathe.
Assuming my puzzle-solving skills remained intact, Camille had nothing to fear from him.
In her quest to hide her own sins, she was about to inadvertently destroy all the evidence of the crime Mark had committed.
I was the dangerous one, the single person who could expose the shameful secret he’d been hiding for over a decade. If anything, he’d want to help Camille.
“Mom?” I said again, wondering if, in my delirium, I had imagined my mother’s voice.
“Your mama’s dead, Nola. But you’ll be joining her soon enough and can catch up.”
I waited for Bonnie’s voice again, even if it had been only in my head. The silence felt like a physical blow.
My phone began to vibrate on the floor. With my last thread of energy, I turned my head, then lifted the phone to face me.
An unflattering picture of Beau—which I’d taken while we were installing the bathroom fixtures in the upstairs of my un-air-conditioned cottage—stared back at me.
If I’d had the energy, I would have cried with relief.
With all the strength I had left, I swiped my finger across the screen to unlock it, then selected the one character that was guaranteed to let him know that something was horribly, terribly wrong.