curses didn’t mean Justine followed suit. The house was a house. Granted, this house was an extremely large one—with a bloody history—but that didn’t change the job she had to do. In fact, it made her job all the more interesting.
“You made it.” A voice called from the entry to the house, and Justine looked up and waved at Olivia Markham, the woman who’d hired her for the research job at laMalediction. Olivia smiled and crossed the courtyard to Justine’s car.
“I’m glad to see you,” Olivia said. “I was starting to worry you wouldn’t make it here by dark. We’ve made some strides clearing the road to the house, but it’s still not the best place to be at night if you don’t know where you’re going.”
Justine smiled, thinking “road” was a bit of a stretch to call the dirt path almost hidden by the swamp. “Sorry I worried you. I got held up by my mother. She’s a professional at making me late.”
Olivia opened the door to the backseat and pulled out one of Justine’s boxes of supplies. “I hope she’s not worried about you staying here,” Olivia said, as they walked toward the house.
Justine frowned. “She’s not thrilled, but my mother is not your average person.”
Olivia balanced the box on her hip and opened the front door to the house so Justine could walk inside. “What do you mean?” Olivia asked. “Is there such a thing as an average mother?”
“Probably not, but mine is worse than most. She was raised deep in the bayou and still believes in the old ways.”
Olivia closed the door and stared at her. “Voodoo?”
“Yeah,” Justine said and stared beyond Olivia at the wall behind her. Her mother’s insistence on using spells and potions to manage every aspect of her life and health, along with her attempts to direct Justine the same way, had resulted in years of constant friction between them.
“Wow,” Olivia said and started down a hallway. “You never told me that when we talked before.”
“It’s not something I like to tell a lot of people.”
Olivia gave her a sympathetic look. “I understand, but given the situation here, your secondhand knowledge of voodoo may help you with your research.”
Justine stared at Olivia. “You don’t believe in that stuff, do you?”
“I believe there are more things unexplained than explained here at laMalediction. And I believe the former residents believed in it. Understanding those beliefs may help you find the missing emeralds.”
“And fulfill a voodoo prophecy, right?”
Olivia shrugged. “That’s what the journals say. I figured a historian like you would love to solve an old mystery with a treasure at the end.”
“Yes,” Justine agreed, although her reasons for taking the job involved so much more than locating the allegedly cursed emeralds that Olivia referred to. So much more that Justine hadn’t told Olivia or anyone else, and didn’t intend to. If Olivia knew the real reason Justine had jumped at the chance to access the old journals and photo albums at laMalediction, she may have thought twice about hiring her.
Olivia stepped into a library and set the box she was carrying down on a table in the center of the room. “I figured you’d want to set up shop here in the library. I moved all the books from the underground chamber up here.”
Justine looked around the library, at the wall-to-wall bookcases teeming with old books, and could hardly contain her desire to get started. “It’s perfect.” She pulled a book from one of the shelves and opened it, immediately drawn to the beautiful longhand text inside. “You said you brought everything up from the tunnels? Do you think you and John found everything…all the passageways?”
Olivia frowned. “We hope so. But I don’t want to lie to you—we really don’t know. I… Damn, there’s something I need to tell you, and I’ll understand if you change your mind about staying.”
Justine studied Olivia, wondering what had made the calm and collected woman she’d met in New Orleans so nervous. “What’s wrong?”
Olivia took a deep breath and blew it out. “When I stayed here before…when all those things happened to me, John and I assumed it was the estate attorney, Ross Wheeler, who was responsible for everything.”
Justine nodded. Wheeler had been killed by Olivia’s fiancé, John, while holding Olivia hostage in an attempt to force her to reveal the location of the missing emeralds. He’d used the secret passages in the house to spy on her and play tricks with her mind.
“The thing is, the day someone locked me in a tunnel, Wheeler was in court in New Orleans. We just found out a couple of days ago. It couldn’t have been him.”
Justine took a couple of seconds to process that information. “So someone else was sneaking around besides Wheeler?”
Olivia bit her lower lip. “Yeah, and we don’t know who, as there’s no indication from Wheeler’s documents that he was working with anyone. But the reality is, if that one incident wasn’t Wheeler, then some of the others, like the night someone shot at John, may not have been him, either.”
“And with Wheeler dead, you can’t ask.”
“Exactly. John and I talked it over with the new estate attorney and none of us want you or anyone else to be at the house alone. We also don’t think it’s safe for anyone to stay here at night. You’re at a complete disadvantage against anyone who knows the estate, and with the storms that move in, you can become trapped in a matter of minutes. So the estate attorney found a vacant house in town to rent…and John and I sorta convinced the attorney to hire a bodyguard.”
“You what?” Surely, she hadn’t heard correctly.
“The rental house is right behind Main Street and has two bedrooms. Unfortunately, the owner is out of town until tomorrow, so you can’t get the keys until then. The commute isn’t bad, as long as it’s not raining, and this way you both have a safe place to stay, hopefully where the electricity works better.”
Justine frowned. Staying in a rental away from the estate wasn’t optimum, but she could hardly blame the estate attorney for being careful. He probably didn’t want the liability. Then Olivia’s exact wording hit her. “Both of us? This bodyguard is staying in the rental house with me?”
“His name is Brian and he’s a longtime friend of John’s,” Olivia rushed to explain. “He’s an ex-Marine and works at the New Orleans police department with John. He’s overdue for vacation and offered to do this to help us out. I promise you he’s completely trustworthy and qualified to protect you. You’ll be here at laMalediction during the day and only at the rental at night. Even in closer quarters, I promise Brian won’t get in your way.”
Despite the ten-thousand-square feet of laMalediction and the unknown amount of acreage to get lost in, the thought of some strange man roaming the halls while she worked bothered Justine on a number of levels. And that was daytime. She couldn’t even comprehend staying in close quarters every night with a strange man. Especially a cop. Justine’s family didn’t have the best of relationships with law enforcement, and she’d grown a bit jaded about the whole “protect and serve” claims they made.
“I
