Not Quite Gone (A Lowcountry Mystery) (26 page)

“I made a call about your partner in crime. She should be out of jail soon.”

The unexpected and unasked-for kindness takes me aback. “Thank you.”

He nods, focused on the road. “My mom’s pretty
pissed about you digging up what happened to Nan.” Brick brings up the elephant in the room on his own, without prodding.

It had crossed my mind to question him, try to get the real story since we’re being forced to spend time together, but my world has taken a beating tonight. I’m unsure about which way to go, how to move, whether there’s a big fat predator waiting behind the bushes along the
sides of this conversation, and if he hadn’t said her name, the courage to do it myself probably wouldn’t have shown itself.

His frank tone catches me off guard. Brick seems different tonight. Less defensive, more open, and maybe a little defeated. When he shoots a quick glance my direction, his dark eyes are sad. “She’s a sensitive subject…Nan.”

The way he says her name, like he’s trying to
hold on to some part of her with it, leaves no question in my mind that the two of them were close. While it’s hard for me to believe Brick cares about anyone after the way he’s treated his brother and me, it’s impossible to deny. It sort of hurts in unexpected places to realize how much he must have changed since she died. How hard it must have been to become this man his mother can approve of,
and what it could have cost him.

“I gathered.”

“How did you find out about her? And please don’t give me some line of bullshit about seeing ghosts.”

“I saw her ghost.”

“Dammit, Gracie. You’re so ridiculous, you know that?” He smiles, a real smile, disarming me. “Nan would totally haunt some shit. That’s right up her alley.”

“She says she didn’t kill herself.” He’s silent for a long time.
Now that we’ve come this far, I do prod, because curiosity is waking me up from my numb state. “Did she kill herself?”

“Nan talked about killing herself all the time. It was, like, an obsession. She researched Internet sites back when the Internet was new and sort of slow—you remember that whole AOL dial-up noise?” I shake my head, because I don’t and also because talking about it will derail
the conversation. “You’re a little young, maybe, but man. That sound was the soundtrack at Nan’s house.”

“So she did kill herself.”

“She wanted to die.” His fingers grip the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turn white. “Her parents were dead. Everyone at school treated her like dirt, and the worst part was, she started to believe what they said.”

“What did they say?”

“That she’d never amount
to anything no matter how good her grades were. That she’d end up taking their orders at McDonald’s, that kind of unoriginal middle school shit.” He blinks, then swallows. “I tried to tell her it wasn’t true, but to be honest, I wasn’t the picture of mental health back then.”

I don’t respond, which tells him everything he needs to know.

“Ah, you’ve found out my dirty little secret, too.”

“I
don’t think going through a rough time when you were a kid counts as a dirty little secret.”

“That’s because you and I live in two vastly different worlds.” He shakes his head and it travels to his shoulders, as though he’s casting off bad memories. “Anyway…wanting to die was kind of what Nan and I had in common.”

It hasn’t escaped me that he’s not answering my question about whether Nan actually
killed herself. He falls silent as we pull onto the drive to Drayton Hall, and there’s not another way for me to ask the same question for the third time in a row.
 

We pull past the tree where Nan died. Brick refuses to look out the window, swallowing hard once, then twice more as he parks next to my Honda.

I put my hand on the door handle, closing my eyes. If I’m going to drop this—and I should
drop this, no question—this is going to be my last chance to find out the truth. “Do you know what happened to her?”

He stares at me, not bothering to hide the pain in his aching gaze. There’s defiance there, too, which is more familiar, but he’s different tonight. Softer. His voice is low in response but still firm. “She died, Gracie. Nan was my only friend at the time and she came out here
with a piece of rope, determined to kill herself. Whatever you think you know, whatever you think you saw or you’re hoping to find out, you should forget it. You think I’ve been an asshole to you? My mother is no joke. If you cross her, especially now, there’s no telling what kind of havoc she’s going to wreak in your life. Your relationship with my brother, for starters, but I’m guessing there are
things you care about more than him.”

“Like about my cousin’s unborn baby, the one you’re trying to give back to the people who raised the abusive monster who almost killed her?”

He flinches. “Jake wasn’t always… No, you know what? No excuses. Jake was an asshole and his parents aren’t much better. But I have a job to do. It’s not always fun.”

I don’t envy him that job. It’s not something I
would ever choose or excel at but someone has to do it. I guess. Because of the Constitution and everything.
 

He’s been halfway normal tonight, but forgiving the amount of asshole he’s thrown my way since we first met isn’t an offer that’s on the table, especially given the situation with Amelia. The best I can do in the way of acknowledgment is a shrug.

“Your mom is scary as hell, and I have
no desire to put any of my friends or family in harm’s way just to satisfy my curiosity.”

“There’s a good girl.”

I bristle, unable to let it lie. “Except it’s more than curiosity. Believe me or not, but Nan showed herself to me because she wants help. She needs me to do something, and the only thing she’s shown me clearly is that she didn’t kill herself.”

Brick goes totally still, staring out
the windshield into nothing. This time when he speaks, it’s a familiar tone. It’s cold and threatening and disdainful. “You’re never, ever going to know the truth about what happened out here that night, Gracie. And no one else will, either.”

Chapter Eighteen

The next morning, when I hear Amelia rattling around the kitchen and cursing rather loudly, I pry my eyelids open and stumble down to join her, despite the fact that it’s only six a.m. My cousin has trouble sleeping at this point in her pregnancy, which sounds like a nightmare. Actually, after living in close quarters with a gestating woman, the majority of the pregnancy
experience seems like a nightmare to me.
 

I had my own nightmare last night when I was wide-awake, and more than anything, I need to talk to Millie about what might be possible with Mama Lottie’s help before we both go to work.

My chest tightens at the thought of going back to Drayton Hall today. It’s not as though Cordelia—or any of the Draytons—will be there, but now that I know Sean’s on
her little snitch patrol, it’s hard to feel as though there’s anyone who isn’t. Jenna seems so genuine, so friendly, but she’s devoted to that place. If getting to keep working on it and finishing her pet project means reporting to the boss, it’s easy to see her giving in.

Amelia’s eyebrows go up when I shuffle into the kitchen. “Whoa. Is this bizarro world? Are you bizarro Grace?”

“You’re even
funnier before sunrise.” I grab the coffeepot and fill it up with water, then dump grounds in indiscriminately. There aren’t enough in the world to scare my brain into action right now.

“Are you seriously going to taunt me with the smell of coffee when all I can have is this stupid herbal tea?”

“Sorry. You’re the one who wanted kids so bad. I doubt this is the last time he’s going to make your
life inconvenient.”

“You’re horrible.” She’s smiling, but it looks distracted as she sits at the kitchen table. A mug steams in front of her and her gaze is aimed out the window, melancholy crowding the happy yellow kitchen.

I slide into the chair across from her once my coffee’s done and properly doctored. What Daria and I did manage to learn last night feels like good news, even framed by
so much unknown, and I’m desperate to give Millie something hopeful to hold on to. “So, remember the ghost that showed up the night Beau got bitten by that snake? The one who seemed like she was trying to help me?”

“She didn’t do a very good job,” Amelia grumbles, staring down into her cup.

“All things considered, she accomplished quite a bit for a dead woman.” Cold grips my spine at the memory
of her killing that snake. If she can reach through the shroud separating the dead from the living to murder a snake, how much power could she have over human beings?

Enough to save us?

“Anyway,” I continue, concerned her attention has wandered. “It turns out she is—er, was—a voodoo practitioner. Her name was Mama Lottie. She helped the Draytons she served with several different things and people
from all over the county sought out her expertise.”

“Oh?” Her tone reveals zero interest.

It annoys me, so I press ahead. “I talked to Odette the other day, too, while Beau was in the hospital, and she says it’s possible that this Mama Lottie feels compelled to fight against the darkness of the curse they put on Anne all those years ago. That’s what Daria and I went to find out.”

“That’s nice.”

My frustration boils over. “Amelia. I’m telling you there’s a chance we can find out how to break the curse. Banish the nightmares and the sleepwalking and the random venomous snakes. Get on with our lives. Why are you acting like I’m telling you I think we should clean out the attic this weekend?”

“My parents called last night after you left. They’ve talked to about two dozen lawyers and no
one will take my case.”

“What? Why?” The defeated air about her tries to infect me, shrivels the tiny scraps of hope being nurtured. “You have money. They’re lawyers. What’s the issue?”

“No one wants to take on a losing case, Grace. They don’t think there’s any way to beat the Middletons, not with their attorneys and the fact that, you know, I murdered my husband and have since been hospitalized
on suicide watch and have been seeing a shrink.”

It would be easy to let her convince me there’s no reason to fight, but this woman is not my cousin. This is not the woman who’s wanted to be a mother more than anything since we were kids ourselves, who never let anyone quit anything, not ever.

I slam my hand down on the table. Even the clatter of our cups and the slosh of liquid onto the table
does nothing to startle her out of her listlessness. “Amelia Anne Cooper. Snap the fuck out of this funk.”

“Why? What’s the point?”

“The point is that those assholes are not going to get their hands on your kid. The point is that they won’t be able to protect him, but if we can get some help from Mama Lottie, we can.”

“Are you even listening to yourself? Get help from a goddamn ghost who practiced
voodoo when she was alive two hundred years ago? You sound crazier than me!”

We glare at each other, chests heaving, neither willing to give in. It takes all my common sense to control the wild beat of my heart, to remind myself of everything she’s been through—that we’ve been through—and come at this with a calmer tone. “Millie, I know it sounds crazy. We both know that. But we also both know
what’s happening. This woman can
help us
. We should let her, and then we can go from there.”

My conversation with Brick last night, while frustrating and strange, gave me a tiny light-at-the-end-of-the-tunnel feeling as far as the court case goes. If the Middletons’ attorneys don’t believe in them, that means there are edges to dig at. Which means we might be able to uncover some dirt of our
own. If we can find a lawyer.

I reach across the table and put my hand over hers. Amelia flips up her palm and grabs on, holding on for dear life so tight it pinches my skin. As long as she’s holding on to me and I’m not letting go, there’s a way to get through all this. There has to be.

“Don’t give up, Millie. Jack needs you. I’ll talk to Beau this morning about finding a lawyer that will take
the case and be kick-ass. I know he’ll be able to help us.” I swallow, thinking about how I’m also going to have to tell him what happened last night.

Speaking of last night, I should probably also make sure poor Daria got out of jail. Brick might have seemed different, but I wouldn’t put it past him to have left her there.
 

“Okay. Okay, Grace.” Tears fill her eyes and her other hand goes to
her belly, which is getting rounder every single day.

“Okay. Until the end, Millie, remember?”

She nods, biting her lip. “Until the end.”

I give her hand one more squeeze and then let go, downing the rest of my coffee. “I’m going to make a few phone calls and then go face the music at Drayton. You take a shower and get to work. I’ll be back to help in a few more days.”

“Good. I’m tired of
being the smiling face out front.”

“Not going to lie, that’s the hardest part of the job.”

She rinses out her cup in the sink and heads upstairs. I pick up my phone and wander out onto the deck, calling Daria’s cell.

“Graciela.”

“Daria.” Relief turns her name into a whoosh of air. “You’re alive.”

“Don’t be dramatic. I was in a prison cell, not a medieval torture chamber.”

“How did you get
out?”

“I have friends, you know. Thanks a lot for leaving me behind, though.”

“I didn’t have much of a choice, and anyway they said they’d called about you. I’m really sorry about everything that went down. I had no idea they had security cameras or that she would care that we were there after hours.” I pause, waiting for her to tell me it’s okay but she doesn’t. Honestly, Daria doesn’t seem
like the kind of person to hold a grudge, and there are bigger issues at stake. “We have to go back. I’ll figure out how and when, but I need to know what Mama Lottie wants in exchange for helping me with this curse.”

The pause on the other end of the phone goes on forever. “You need to tell me everything that’s going on. That woman… I’ve never encountered such a strong spirit. She could hurt
us if she wanted. Worse, maybe. There has been some spooky shit put in my path since I started hearing things that weren’t there when I was four years old, and at this point, not much scares me. But voodoo? It scares the shit out of me, Graciela, and it should scare you, too.”