and I never got that feeling in the other house.”
“I suppose,” Irene said, but Olivia could hear the disapproval in her words. “Well, I hope this problem with your car hasn’t set you behind. Howard’s called twice this morning wanting a status report, and he’s frothing at the mouth like a demon child.”
Damn. Howard was the vice president, and he disdained his company’s recent foray into what he called “mass market trash.” The fact that Olivia and the other authors of that “mass market trash” were the only thing keeping the publisher afloat in a tenuous market seemed to make him even angrier. If Howard had his way, the publisher would only print thick coffee table books with bizarre photos of fruit and dead flowers. Or the obscure literary journal that would sell five or six copies, purchased by the author’s family to see if they were mentioned.
Olivia bit her lip, then finally blurted out what she needed to say. “If I run into problems with the car, I might have to backtrack to New Orleans for a day or two. I know I’m already behind my normal schedule for finishing a rough draft because of the time it took to work out the lease arrangements here, but if there is a delay I don’t see it being more than two days, max.” She clamped her mouth shut, realizing she was rambling.
For a couple of seconds there was dead silence on the other end of the line, and Olivia steeled herself for the disapproval that was surely to come.
“I don’t have to remind you that marketing has already spent a literal ton of money on this book,” Irene said. “The book that you seem to find excuse after excuse to delay.”
“I know this is an important release, and I promise you that I’ll make up the time as soon as I’ve gotten everything under control here.”
“Is there something else wrong? You don’t sound like yourself, Olivia. You sound like you’re on the ragged edge of sanity.”
“Everything will be fine. I think I’m getting a little jumpy and starting to panic. I guess I’m overreacting.”
“Really? That’s interesting considering you’re the most organized, controlled person I know, and that’s saying a lot. What’s got you spooked? The storm? I know it can’t be the house itself. It’s not like you haven’t done this a time or two before.”
Olivia looked up at the house and shook her head. “I don’t know, exactly. I mean, this is definitely the most remote location I’ve ever been to, and the house hasn’t been occupied in over thirty years, so that gives it a much different ‘feel’ than the others. And given that I arrived in the midst of a monsoon, and had no power…then there was a run-in with the caretaker.”
“What run-in?”
Olivia described the scene in the kitchen from the night before. “I called the estate attorney first thing this morning and everything checked out,” she finished, “but it scared the life out of me.”
“I should say so. Well, if you won’t consider a more civilized location for this book, will you at least consider relocating to a hotel in New Orleans until I can arrange you security of some sort? I can’t afford for some angry caretaker to distract you from your work. There’s a firm in New Orleans that I’ve used before. I could probably get someone assigned to you within a week. You could work from photos until then.”
“A week at a hotel in New Orleans. I have to admit, it’s very tempting, but I really think the story is here. I’ll call you back if I change my mind.”
“Okay,” Irene said, but didn’t sound convinced. “Promise me if you run into any problems that will delay this book, you will let me know immediately. Olivia?”
Olivia looked over at the storage shed as John walked out carrying a long length of chain, the grim look on his face clear as day, even from a distance. She was apparently three for three in making people’s day this morning. “I promise. Look, I’ve got to go. I’ll let you know in a couple of hours what I’m going to do.”
She flipped her phone closed and dropped it back in her pocket. If Olivia was a betting woman, she’d bet everything she had that she was the source of John Landry’s discontent. But if she was such a trial, why bother with her at all? He certainly could have made up any sort of excuse for not wanting to tow her car with his truck.
Granted, she could cost him his job if she wanted to be a real bitch about it, but was a handyman job in the middle of nowhere all that great a gig? With all the hurricane reconstruction going on in New Orleans, the last place she’d expect to find a young, able-bodied man would be hidden away in Cypriere.
In fact, the more she thought about it, the more John Landry didn’t add up at all.
THE MAN WATCHED HER from his hiding place behind the overgrown bushes that surrounded one piece of the drive. While he would have recognized Olivia Markham from her photo in the back cover of her books, the picture really didn’t do her justice at all. She had that fine facial bone structure that seemed to grace only a few each generation, and a toned but curvy build. The entire package was reminiscent of the old portraits of upper class women, which was appropriate if one considered the circumstances.
Her conversation with the caretaker concerned him some. It was obvious that the caretaker wished Olivia would leave, but given everything he knew about things to come, that just didn’t make sense. Thirty years he’d been waiting for things to fall into place, for things to align as they were supposed to when the time was near. Surely, the caretaker wouldn’t have come unless he had a part to play.
The person Olivia had talked to on the phone concerned him more. For whatever reason, he’d gathered from their conversation that the person Olivia had been speaking to had suggested she leave the house and go to New Orleans for a week. And it had sounded like Olivia was considering it. No matter what, he had to make sure that didn’t happen. He’d been watching the moon, and was certain—the day and hour for fulfilling the prophecy was fast approaching.
The first woman who’d come to the house hadn’t given him the answers he was looking for. He’d thought she was the one. She had eyes like the photo, but maybe he had been wrong. Olivia didn’t have eyes like the photo, but otherwise, the resemblance was clear. Surely, Olivia was the one. It had been decades since a woman had even set foot at laMalediction. Now, there had been two in one week. One of them had to be the one.
Regardless, neither of them was leaving laMalediction until the prophecy was fulfilled.
Chapter Four
John glanced in his rearview mirror at Olivia’s car. Despite being stuck in a good foot of mud, it had started right up and was managing the drive to laMalediction. It figured. He’d hoped an out-of-commission vehicle would send her running to the city for a replacement, at least for a couple of days, but no such luck. Now he needed a plan to work around Olivia Markham without her alerting the attorney that something was suspicious.
He parked in front of the mansion and waited until Olivia pulled up beside him. She was smiling when she got out of the car. “I’m so relieved it’s running,” she said and reached back into the car to pop the trunk.
John couldn’t have disagreed more, so he just nodded and looked over at the boxes in her trunk. Whatever Olivia Markham was doing at laMalediction, it looked like she’d packed enough for a long stay. “There’s no food or supplies at the main house. I picked up bread and lunch meat for myself, but I wasn’t expecting company.”
Olivia
