The Vanishing

“Once he found out what I knew or decided I didn’t know anything at all, he still would have tried to kill me. And he’ll try again, because he didn’t get the answer he was looking for.”

Max clenched his hands, not willing to think about another attempt on Colette’s life. “He’ll have to come through me to do it. We didn’t know how far he’d carry things before. We know now and we’ll be more prepared.”

“But how? We’re sitting ducks. He can just sit in the swamp and wait for us to leave.”

“I’m working on that. Just try not to worry about it. When I’ve worked everything out in my head, I’ll let you know.”

She nodded, but didn’t look convinced.

Lightning flashed, and he peered into the darkness, trying to ferret out any sign of movement. Any sign that the shooter had returned. He couldn’t see anything.

But he knew something was out there.

About the Author

JANA DELEON grew up among the bayous and small towns of southwest Louisiana. She’s never actually found a dead body or seen a ghost, but she’s still hoping. Jana started writing in 2001 and focuses on murderous plots set deep in the Louisiana bayous. By day, she writes very boring technical manuals for a software company in Dallas. Visit Jana on her website, www.janadeleon.com.

The Vanishing
Jana DeLeon

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

Before you start reading, why not sign up?

Thank you for downloading this Mills & Boon book. If you want to hear about exclusive discounts, special offers and competitions, sign up to our email newsletter today!

SIGN ME UP!

Or simply visit

signup.millsandboon.co.uk

Mills & Boon emails are completely free to receive and you can unsubscribe at any time via the link in any email we send you.

To my recently married friend, Leigh Zaykoski.

May you and Phil have your own happily ever after …

Prologue

November 1833

The young Creole man pushed open the door on the shack and sat on a chair next to the bed. The fifty-seven-year-old Frenchman lying there wasn’t much longer for this world. The only thing keeping him alive was the news the Creole would bring.

“Have you found my son?” the Frenchman asked, then began coughing.

The young Creole winced as the dying man doubled over, his body wracked with pain. “Wi.”

The dying man straightened up, struggling to catch his breath. “Where is he?”

The Creole looked down at the dirt floor. He’d hoped the man would be dead before he returned to the village. Hoped he’d never have to speak the words he was about to say. Finally, he looked back up at the man and said, “He’s dead.”

“Nonsense! They’ve said I’m dead now for over a decade. Bring me my son!”

“Somethin’ bad went through New Orleans last year that the doctors couldn’t fix. A lot of people died.”

The anguish on the dying man’s face was almost more than the Creole could bear to see. “You couldna done nuttin’,” he said, trying to make the dying man’s last moments easier.

“I shouldn’t have left him there, but there was nothing here for him—hiding in the swamp for the rest of his life.”

“You did what you shoulda. You couldna known.”

The dying man struggled to sit upright. “I need for you to do something else. Something even more important.”

The Creole frowned. “What?”

“Under this bed is a chest. Pull it out, but be careful. It’s heavy.”

The Creole knelt down next to the bed and peered underneath. He spotted the chest in a corner and pulled the handle on the side, but it barely budged. Doubling his efforts, he pulled as hard as he could and, inch by inch, worked the chest out from under the bed.

“Open it,” the dying man said.

The Creole lifted the lid on the chest, and the last rays from the evening sun caught on the glittering pile of gold inside. He gasped and stared at the gold, marveling at its beauty. All this time, the Frenchman had been sleeping over a fortune. The Creole stared up at the man, confused.

“It’s cursed,” the dying man said. “I stole it, and now it’s taken my son and my life from me.” The dying man leaned down, looking the Creole directly in the eyes. “Promise me you’ll never let the gold leave that chest. It will bring sorrow to anyone who spends it. You must keep it hidden forever. I’m entrusting you and your family with this task. Do you understand?”

The Creole felt a chill run through him at the word curse. He didn’t want to be entrusted with guarding cursed objects, nor did he want that burden transferred down his family line.

“Promise me!” the dying man demanded.

But the Creole knew he was the only one in the village who could be trusted to keep the gold hidden. The only one who could be trusted to train those who came after him to respect the old ways. To respect vows made.

“I promise.”

Chapter One

The fall sun was already beginning to set above the cypress trees on Tuesday evening, when Colette Guidry parked her car in front of the quaint home in Vodoun, Louisiana. An attractive wooden sign that read Second Chance Detective Agency was already placed in front of a beautifully landscaped flower bed, but the sounds of hammering and stacks of lumber on the front lawn let her know that the office conversion wasn’t exactly complete.

She reached for the door handle and paused. Maybe this was a bad idea. She’d worked with Alexandria Bastin-Chamberlain, one of the partners at the detective agency, at the hospital in New Orleans before Alex resigned to open the agency with her husband. She shouldn’t feel self-conscious about asking for her help.

But what if Alex thinks you’re crazy, too?

And that was at the crux of it. The rest of the hospital staff and the New Orleans Police Department had already informed her that her concern over her missing employee was misplaced. Anna Huval had a history of skipping town with undesirable men and usually surfaced when the disastrous relationship had run its short course. Colette had intimate understanding of choosing the wrong man, although her choices hadn’t been near as wild or frequent as Anna’s. But her two disappointing whirls with noncommittal men had given her enough sorrow to be sympathetic to Anna’s heartbreak, even if it was self-induced.

But all that was in the past. With Colette’s guidance, Anna had turned her life around, and for the past six months, she had been on a path that guaranteed her a healthy, successful future. The only problem was no one believed it would last, and Anna’s disappearance was a signal to many that she’d relapsed into the behavior that was so familiar to her.

Colette understood exactly why people felt that way. Logically, it was the best explanation, and if Colette hadn’t gotten to know Anna so well, she would have bought completely into it, also. But despite the lack of evidence of something dire, and a seemingly logical explanation for what had happened given Anna’s past, Colette knew something terrible had happened to the young nurse’s aide.

She pushed the car door open and stepped out. The detective agency specialized in situations the police wouldn’t handle—giving concerned friends and family a second chance for answers. Anna’s disappearance fit that description. If Alex and her husband, Holt, didn’t think her case had merit, then they’d tell her, and that would be that.

The door to the agency was partially open, so she pushed it a bit farther and stuck her head inside. Alex stood talking to a contractor in the middle of what was probably going to be a reception area once it had paint, flooring and furniture. As the sunlight crept in through the open door, her former coworker looked over and waved when she saw Colette.

“Did you come to take my temperature?” Alex asked as Colette stepped inside.

“Why? Are you sick?”

“I must be to think I could handle the construction management myself.”

Colette laughed. “Well, I’m hardly going to accuse a psychiatrist of being crazy, so sick it is. Perhaps a mind-altering flu.”

“Sounds lovely,” Alex said and pointed to the only portion of the house away from the loud saws and other construction equipment. “My office is this way. It’s the only place with decent flooring and chairs.” She leaned over and whispered, “Plus, I have the gourmet single-serve coffeemaker hidden in my filing cabinet.”

Colette felt her spirits rise as she followed Alex into a pretty office with blue walls and white trim located in a corner of the building. In addition to being intelligent, attractive and empathetic, Alex was the most intuitive person she’d ever met. If there was help to be found, she’d find it here.

She took a seat in front of the desk and made small talk while Alex made them coffee, catching her up on all the hospital gossip since she’d resigned the month before. Then Alex slid into the chair behind her desk and gave her a shrewd look.

“While I am very happy to see you, I doubt you drove all the way to Vodoun to bring me up to speed on the latest inner workings of New Orleans General.”

“No. I have a problem … one I’m hoping you can help me with.”

Alex pulled a pad of paper and pen out of her desk drawer. “Tell me.”

“Anna Huval didn’t report to work on Friday. She was scheduled for the evening shift, but was a no-show/no-call.”

“You tried to reach her, of course.”

“Yes. I called her apartment and her cell. When I didn’t get an answer, I checked with the emergency room of all area hospitals, then when I came up empty there, I called the police. Fortunately, they had no Jane Does in the morgue that matched Anna’s description, and they let me file a report but said they probably wouldn’t look into it until Monday. Yesterday.”

Alex nodded. “Because most adults turn up within twenty-four to forty-eight hours and haven’t been victims of a crime.”

“Exactly.”

“So did they investigate on Monday?”

“I pestered them and they finally agreed to check her apartment. I’d already tried to get in but the landlord has gotten in trouble for letting unauthorized people into apartments before and wasn’t budging.”

“Did you find anything inside?”

“No sign of forced entry or a struggle, and her backpack was missing. Since she started nursing school, she carries it with her everywhere, sneaking in study time whenever she can.” Colette frowned. “But the thing is, her books were on her bed. Scattered like they’d been tossed there in a hurry. The bed itself was still made.”

“Could you tell if any clothes were missing?”

Colette shook her head. “I don’t know. There were no large gaps in her closet, so if she intended to leave, she didn’t take much, but then, she didn’t have much to begin with.”

“Tell me more about her cell phone.”

“She has a prepaid one that I’ve been calling every couple of hours, but it goes straight to voice mail. The police called the cell-phone company to track it, but they said it’s either turned off or not in range.”

“Did the police find any other reason to suspect she’d taken off on her own volition?”

Colette struggled with her own frustration and disappointment. Now that she was repeating the facts out loud, she could see exactly why the New Orleans police weren’t taking her seriously, and the next bit of information was not going to make the situation any better.

“Colette?”

She sighed. “Her bank said she withdrew four hundred dollars on Friday evening, a couple of hours before her shift was due to start.”

Alex raised her eyebrows and tapped her pen on the desk.

“I know how this looks,” Colette said. “If you take the facts and couple them with Anna’s reputation for hooking up with the wrong men, then you have a foolish girl adding one more wild weekend to a very colorful past. But I promise you, that is not the young woman Anna is now.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Well, I suppose no one can be one hundred percent sure, but I’ve worked with her every week for the last year. When she told me she wanted to turn her life around, I got her counseling with hospital staff as a start. After three months of therapy, she told me she wanted to be a nurse, and I helped her get grants for nursing school. She comes to me with questions on her courses, and I can see her interest and focus clear as day.”

“Maybe a family emergency …”

“She’s always claimed she has no family left, and I’ve never seen evidence of any since I’ve known her. Besides, if it was an emergency, why wouldn’t she call me? She trusts me. She knows I would help.”

“Perhaps it’s not the sort of emergency you would help with.”

“What do you mean?”

Alex sighed. “I know a little about Anna—some from the rumor mill at the hospital, some from Anna herself. If she’s involved in something she knows you wouldn’t approve of, she wouldn’t tell you. It’s clear from what you’ve told me that she respects you, and I got the impression that with Anna, respect doesn’t come lightly. If she thought telling you would damage that, she may choose to handle it alone.”

Colette slumped back in her chair. Everything Alex said made so much sense. “But that doesn’t mean she’s not in trouble, whether or not she chose to walk into it.”

“That’s true.”

“So will you take the case? I have the money, and Anna’s become … well, like a little sister to me. I have to do something.”

“Of course you do,” Alex said, and Colette could tell by her expression that Alex truly did understand.

Alex was the only person at New Orleans General whom Colette had ever confided in about the boating accident that killed her parents when she was young and being raised by her only living relative, a spinster aunt who never wanted children and who’d died years ago. More than anyone else, Alex knew the loss she felt at having no family and would understand why Anna had become so important to her.

“I have no problem with our taking the case,” Alex said.

Relief swept over Colette like a wave. “Thank you. I can’t even tell you how much this means that someone is actually listening.”

Alex leaned forward in her chair and looked directly at Colette. “But you have to be prepared for whatever we find—even if it’s not the answer you wanted.”

Colette nodded. “I can handle that. I just can’t handle doing nothing.”

“Good. As it happens, Holt’s half brother Max is starting at the agency this week. I’ll get all the information from you and bring him up to speed at dinner tonight.”

“Holt’s half brother?” Colette struggled to control her disappointment. “I was hoping you and Holt would do the investigation.”

“We’re busy on two other cases as the moment, but I promise you Max is an expert. He’s got ten years with the Baton Rouge Police Department and was the youngest detective in the department’s history. If anyone can find out what happened to Anna, Max can.”

“Okay. If you have that much confidence in him, then he must be worthy of it.”

Alex smiled. “He’ll probably want to talk to you tomorrow. Since you knew Anna better than anyone else, you’ll be a big help.”

“Anything I can do,” Colette said, hoping between now and tomorrow she could think of something—anything—that would help find Anna. If Alex’s assessment was correct and Anna was in some sort of trouble, then she needed Colette’s help now more than ever before.

MAX DUHON HANDED A BOARD to his brother Holt, who was up on a ladder replacing a rotted section of roof trim on his little cabin on the bayou. “It doesn’t sound like much of a case,” Max said.

Holt held the board in place with one hand and secured it with his nail gun with the other. “It’s not sensational or meaty, no, but Alex agreed to take the case, and you’re the only one available at the moment to handle it. She’ll bring you a folder tonight, but what I told you is the gist of it.”

“But the entire case is based on Alex’s opinion of someone else’s opinion. That’s hearsay in court. Why in the world is it good enough for you to launch an investigation?”

“The client meets our criteria. She suspects something has happened, and the police won’t open an investigation. The client is credible, even if the missing person is questionable.”

“And if it turns out to be nothing but a loose woman taking an unscheduled weekend with her latest passing fancy?”

Holt climbed down the ladder and placed his nail gun in its case. “Then we’ve still solved the case and earned our fee. We find answers here, Max, and the answers don’t always have to be criminal in nature. Turning her away would be going against the very reason we opened the agency in the first place.”

Max sighed. “I get it. I just don’t know how much more I can do than what the police have already done.”

“Talk to the client and try to find a new line of investigation. Poke around into things the police wouldn’t have bothered with—question classmates, see if she had a favorite hangout.” Holt clapped him on the shoulder. “Do what you do best. If anyone can ferret out an answer on this, it’s you.”

Max picked up the ladder and followed Holt to the storage shed. He wished he had as much confidence in his abilities as his brother did. Maybe that was why Alex had assigned him a relatively straightforward, boring and safe case. Maybe they didn’t really believe he could handle the work, either. Not now.

The old Max was invincible … indestructible. At least that’s what he’d thought.

The bullet wound ached in his shoulder as he lifted the ladder onto the rack in the back of the shed—a constant reminder of what had happened.

Of his failure.

Chapter Two

The knock on Colette’s apartment door sent her into a nervous flurry. Holt’s brother was right on time, but despite a sleepless night, she still didn’t have a single thing to add to the information she’d already given Alex. She smoothed the wrinkles out of the bottom of her T-shirt and took a deep breath, blowing it out slowly, before opening the door.

Then sucked it back in when she saw Max.

She shouldn’t have been surprised by the prime male specimen in front of her. After all, Holt was an attractive man, but his brother was a work of art. The dark hair, finely toned body and beautifully tanned skin were an equal match for Holt, but the chiseled facial features and turquoise eyes belied a Nordic mother. It was a masterful combination of DNA.

“Colette Guidry?” he asked, his voice as smooth and sexy as his appearance.

“Yes.”

He stared at her for a couple of seconds. “Can I come in?”

“Oh, yes, of course.” Colette opened the door and allowed him to pass, flustered that she’d completely lost her sense and her manners. “I’m sorry. I just feel so scattered.”

He stepped inside her apartment and glanced around the open living room, kitchen and dining area. Colette got the impression that he was sizing her up, both by her own appearance and by that of her home. For a moment, she bristled, but then remembered he was a career cop. His mind probably automatically shifted to such things if he was working, and she could hardly fault him for assessing her when she was paying for his natural ability to do just that in the first place.

“Can I get you something to drink?” she asked. “I just made a fresh pot of coffee.”

“That would be great.”

“Have a seat,” she said and waved a hand at the kitchen table. “How do you take your coffee?”

“Black.”

He slid into a chair at the table, and she poured two black coffees and carried them to the table. “I guess Alex filled you in on everything?” she asked as she took a seat across from him.

He nodded.

“I know it’s not much, and given Anna’s past, it’s probably less than anything, but I can’t help but think something has happened.”

“You care about her, so you’re worried,” he said simply. “I’m here to get you answers.”

His words were meant to be comforting, and Colette didn’t doubt their sincerity, but something in the tone of his voice made her think Max considered this entire case a waste of his time, which only strengthened her resolve. Regardless of Max’s opinion, she’d paid for his services and she was going to get her money’s worth.

“I’ve thought about it all night,” she said, “but haven’t been able to come up with anything I didn’t tell Alex.”

“It’s hard to know what may be important. Likely, you’ll think of things as I move through the investigation.”

“Where would you like to start?”

“At her apartment. I know the police went through it, but they would only have looked for signs of a crime. Since we have to assume at this point that she left of her own accord, I want to look for things that might tip me off as to where she may have gone and for what reason.”

Colette nodded. “Now that I’ve had the police out, I don’t think the landlord would have a problem letting us back in.”

“Us?”

“Yes. The landlord isn’t likely to let you in without me. She’s very particular about the rules.”

He frowned. “I suppose it’s all right for you to accompany me to her apartment.”

“Actually, I’ve taken some long-overdue vacation time. I intend to accompany you everywhere.”

His jaw dropped then clamped shut and set in a hard line. “I can’t allow that.”

“I wasn’t aware that I had to have permission when I’m footing the bill.”

“It’s a matter of safety,” he said, not bothering any longer to hide his frustration. “If Anna is in some kind of trouble, then the investigation could be dangerous.”

“Then I guess it’s good you’ll have a medical professional with you.”

MAX CLIMBED INTO HIS JEEP, completely frustrated and with no outlet for expressing it, as the main source of his frustration was perched in the passenger seat. If he’d known he was going to be playing escort to an untrained civilian, he may have told Alex he couldn’t take the case. The young, shapely Cajun woman with miles of wavy dark hair and green eyes was the last thing in the world he’d been expecting.

When Alex had described Colette as one of the head nurses where she used to work, he’d immediately formed a picture in his mind of an old, blue-haired woman with ugly white shoes and a perpetual frown. But there wasn’t a single thing about Colette that was old, blue-haired or ugly. Even in jeans, T-shirt and tennis shoes, and with her hair in a ponytail, she was still one of the sexiest women Max had ever seen, and he couldn’t help but wonder how those long legs would look without the jeans encasing them.

She’s a hard-core, hardheaded career woman, just like Mother.

And that was really where all train of thought came to a screeching halt, which was just as well. Max knew better than anyone that combining pleasure with work was a huge mistake.

He shook his head to change his train of thought and get back to the business at hand. They’d talked to all of Anna’s neighbors at her apartment building but gotten only the same story: Anna was a quiet, polite woman whom they rarely saw. The search of her apartment had yielded nothing but more questions. Max hadn’t located a single thread of information that might give a clue as to why the young woman had left. She kept no diary, no notes and, oddly enough, nothing related to her past.

It was as if she’d materialized out of thin air two years ago on the streets of New Orleans. And that, in itself, was very suspicious.

He could tell by Colette’s expression that she was also bothered by the lack of personal items in Anna’s apartment, but she wasn’t about to admit it to him. And apparently, it hadn’t changed her mind about accompanying him to the bank to see if they’d part with information on Anna’s bank transactions.

“Don’t you need a warrant or something to get information from the bank?” Colette asked.

“Usually.”

Colette raised one eyebrow, clearly waiting for an explanation, but he didn’t feel like giving one. He may have to let her along for the ride, but that didn’t mean he had to consult with her on his actions or explain the way he worked. She was paying for an expert to handle the situation, and that’s what she’d get. Teaching wasn’t part of the job description.

She was smart enough not to press the issue, but she still followed right behind him as he parked in front of the bank and went inside. A young woman in a glass office at the front of the lobby jumped up from her chair and beamed as he walked in the door.

“Max,” she said and rushed to give him a kiss on the cheek.

“Brandy,” he said, both embarrassed and flattered by the attention.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Max glanced around the lobby and was happy to see all the other employees and customers were out of hearing range. “I need your help,” he said and explained the situation to her.

Brandy’s eyes widened and her mouth formed a small O. When he finished, she nodded and gestured toward the office she’d come out of earlier. Colette and Max stepped inside and took seats across the desk from Brandy, who sat down and immediately started typing.

“There’s been no other activity on the account since the withdrawal last Friday, but there’s only thirty dollars left in the account.”

“What about the month before that?” Max asked. “Is there anything unusual that you can see?”

Brandy scanned the screen, shaking her head. “It all looks like normal stuff—a check for rent, automatic draft for utilities and Netflix, and a couple of small cash withdrawals—never more than twenty dollars at a time.”

“Can you tell where she made the withdrawal on Friday?”

Brandy nodded. “Let me look up the branch number associated with the transaction.” She typed in some numbers and then said, “It’s located on Highway 90 close to Old Spanish Trail, northeast of New Orleans.”

Colette sucked in a breath. “That’s on the way to the village where Anna’s from. But she said she had no family left there.”

“Maybe she lied.”

Colette frowned, and Max knew she wasn’t happy with the thought that the girl she’d invested so much in had been lying to her all along. “Maybe so,” she said finally.

“Can I get a printout of the transactions and the address of that branch?” Max asked.

“Of course,” Brandy said.

Max felt his cell phone vibrating in his pocket and pulled it out to check the display. “It’s Holt,” he said. “Excuse me for a moment.”

He left the office and stepped outside onto the sidewalk in front of the bank. “What’s up?” he asked.

“Alex got a call this morning from the morgue at West Side Hospital outside of New Orleans. They have a body that matches Anna’s description.”

Max’s heart sank.

He’d known there was a possibility that Anna had met with foul play, but he’d really been hoping for a happy ending for Anna and Colette.

Unfortunately, it seemed that the worst-case scenario was visiting the investigation before he really got started.

COLETTE WATCHED AS BRANDY stapled the printouts together. The girl was certainly attractive and apparently knew Max well enough to risk being fired for what she was doing, but Colette couldn’t help but think she was a little too young for him. She couldn’t be over twenty at the most.

Whatever the status of Max’s relationship with Brandy, it was none of her business, but that didn’t prevent her from wanting to know. “You’re not really supposed to give out that information, are you?” Colette asked, figuring she couldn’t be faulted for the mostly innocent question, even if Max found out she’d asked.

“No, but you want it for a good reason. Besides, I owe Max.”

Colette wasn’t sure she really wanted to know the answer, but she couldn’t help asking. “Owe him for what?”

“I wasn’t the most respectable teen,” Brandy said, looking a bit sheepish. “Max busted me with the wrong crowd three years ago in Baton Rouge but agreed to let me go if I would go back to school and ditch my troublemaking friends. He lied to his captain and told him I got away while they were rounding up the others. If anyone had found out, he probably would have been fired.”

“Wow. That was really nice of him.” And totally not the answer Colette had expected. So far, she’d seen only the hard-nosed-cop side of him.

Brandy smiled. “You know how he is.”

“No … actually, I just met him this morning.”

“Oh. I’m sorry. It’s just that you two looked nice together. I guess I figured you were together.”

“No, we—”

Before she could explain, Max stepped back into the off ice.

“We have to leave,” he said.

Brandy handed him the printouts. “Let me know if there’s anything else I can do.”

“I will. Thanks.”

“I hope you find her soon.”

Max nodded and left the office, but not before Colette saw something dark pass over his expression.

“It was nice meeting you,” Colette said to Brandy and hurried out of the office behind Max.

“What’s wrong?” Colette asked as soon as he pulled the car away from the bank.

His jaw flexed and a wave of fear washed over her. Whatever he was about to say, Colette knew it wasn’t going to be something she wanted to hear.

“Alex got a call from the morgue at West Side Hospital.”

Colette felt the blood rush from her face. “Oh, no!”

“I need to take you over there. You’re the only one …”

“Yes, of course.” She stared out the windshield as he made the twenty-minute drive to the hospital, unable to believe it may all be over. That Anna could be inside the morgue on a cold slab of metal.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, she’d known that if things went horribly wrong, she’d have to be the one to identify her friend, but she was completely unprepared for it to happen in a matter of minutes.

She felt as if she was almost out of her body as she walked into the morgue, Max close behind. Feeling numb, she waited while Max spoke with the clerk, who gave her a sad glance, then buzzed them through a secure door. A medical technician met them on the other side. He spoke to them, but Colette didn’t hear his words or Max’s reply.