Chapter 7 #2
"Apparently the Dubois and my parents knew each other pretty well."
"How well is pretty well?"
"Welp, that’s what I’m trying to see. I feel compelled to find out their connection."
Julian didn't say anything, which let me know he was in full on lawyer mode.
"Make sure you document as much as you can… hell, document it all."
"I’m already on it, boss."
"Just don't get sidetracked and forget why you're there."
"I won’t."
"Okay then," he paused for a brief second, “I love you, baby girl. And remember to always watch your six."
A little ache settled in my chest because I was truly missing him. "I will and I love you too, babe."
After hanging up, I noticed there was a sudden chill that swept across my back and a coldness that engulfed the room. When I looked up, I saw that I wasn’t alone. Someone else was in the room with me and I froze. He was standing a few feet away from me by one of the shelves.
He was tall, had very broad shoulders and of course, was wearing a suit that was tailored perfectly to his body.
From the way he was standing there was something very familiar about him and that was when I noticed he was the same man that was standing in front of the church the other day.
I could also tell just from his presence and how he made me feel, and from the smile on his face that he was the same person that was in my dream.
A few seconds passed and neither one of us spoke as he just stood there staring at me with these dark emotionless eyes. His presence gave the room a weird vibe, but not in a bad way, just something strange could be felt between us.
The smell of cedarwood, sage and something spicy yet sweet that I couldn’t put my finger quite on drifted past me as I looked into his dark eyes. He smelled like an expensive cologne that was so intoxicating it would linger long after he was no longer in my presence.
As I stared at his features, I noticed a small scar on his right eyebrow.
He was also wearing a gold signet ring with the magnolia emblem just like the one the man that walked into the coffee shop had on.
As I stared at his hands I noticed he had callouses on his knuckles, pretty big ones despite his nails being perfectly manicured.
After locking eyes briefly, he looked over at the scholarship folder that was sitting in front of me. When he looked back at me, a chill ran down my spine from the way his lips slightly curved into a smile.
“What you’re looking for you won’t find in here." His voice was deep, serious and controlled.
At first, my words were caught in my throat, “How you know what I’m looking for?”
“I know everything.”
My eyes were glued on him, it kind of felt like I was in a trance. He was strikingly handsome, yet I felt unsettled from his presence which made me feel a little uneasy because when he smiled it never reached his eyes.
"You knew Isaiah Sinclair?"
"Of course, I knew your father. I buried half the people you see in some of those pictures.”
“I never told you who he was to me.”
“You didn’t have too.” He smirked, as his stare become more and more intense. “I also know what happened when he wouldn’t stop searching for answers.”
“What does that mean?” I asked, as I started to feel uncomfortable. It felt like he was saying a lot without saying much at the same time.
“I think you’re smart enough to know.” He rebutted as he turned then headed toward the door.
"Wait…Why did the Dubois’ create this scholarship?"
He turned back toward me and something in his demeanor shifted. It was very subtle, but I noticed the change from looking in his eyes. Then he looked down and I followed his gaze to one of the pictures of my parents where he stared at it briefly before looking back at me.
"Your father changed this town. You know some people spend their lives trying to leave something memorable behind." He looked back down at the pictures then smirked, “Normally the dead don’t get to choose what it is. Luckily for him that wasn’t the case.”
“What did he do? Was it something good or bad?”
“He asked as many questions as you do. And depending on who you ask determines if it’s bad or good.”
When he said that the breath in my lungs caught. The way he said it made me feel like whatever my father did and whatever questions he asked caused a problem. It almost felt like he was warning me about something.
If it was a bad thing then why would the Dubois’ sponsor a fund in his name, though?
What were they trying to hide? Unless it’s a coverup for something.
My head was spinning with what if’s and as I tried to figure it out, his eyes pierced into mine like a vice grip.
It felt like he was reading my mind, his stare down caused my pulse to weaken.
“The rest is a bit more than what you’re ready to hear.”
“What do you mean?”
“Some answers cost more than you think.”
He turned and proceeded toward the door. I really wanted to ask what he was implying because I didn’t want to assume but I didn’t feel like he would answer me directly.
“Hold up,” I stopped him just as he was about to shut the door. “I didn’t ask your name.”
"Ezekiel Dubois. Just be mindful of the information you pull…some information pulls back."
I jumped in my seat even though I watched as the door shut.
And just like that I’d met another Dubois and still didn’t have any answers.
If anything, I had way more questions to ask but he just walked away mid-conversation as if that was normal.
Gathering my things, I quickly put away the files I pulled out, then scurried out of the room, with my head spinning thinking there was something profoundly wrong with that man.
And the fact that he mentioned he buried people just might be what it is.