False Pretenses - Kathy Herman [83]
“Not really. It’s dark. I can’t tell where the stairs are.”
Pierce backed up and turned around, then prodded her out into the hallway. “We’ve been through every room. There’s nobody up here.”
“Nobody. But what if the stories about Josiah Langley’s ghost aren’t so far-fetched after all?”
Pierce rolled his eyes. “I don’t see anyone, do you?” He made a sweeping motion with his hand. “There’s no one here but us. Let’s go back downstairs.”
Pierce moved toward the big staircase that led down into the formal entryway.
Zoe started to follow him and stepped on something hard. She stopped and picked it up. “I don’t believe this.”
“What now?” Pierce sighed and turned around.
“I just stepped on a lemon drop.” She walked over to him and put it in his hand. “Explain how that got here.”
“Don’t overreact. I’m sure it’s left over from when the intruder was here.”
“Funny the deputies didn’t see it.”
“Zoe, it’s not that light up here. It wouldn’t be hard to miss. You didn’t see it until after you stepped on it. We just searched all the rooms on this floor. There’s no one up here. It was probably just the house settling.”
“It sounded like something fell on the floor.”
Pierce handed her the bat. “Fine. Search it again, if you want. And search the secret tunnel while you’re at it. And the basement. And the attic. I’m going downstairs and wait for Vanessa’s call. If you run into Josiah Langley, tell him hello for me.”
Zoe’s eyes clouded over, and she blinked away the tears. Wasn’t it hard enough being confined here without Pierce’s sarcasm?
Jude stood in the living room of Zoe and Pierce’s apartment and waited while Stone Castille and Mike Doucet went to retrieve the clothes Zoe was wearing the night she met with Shapiro—and to find the notes he left her. He glanced around the apartment. What a cozy place it was. Their French country furnishings captured the old-world charm that was also pervasive at Zoe B’s.
He spotted the Broussards’ wedding picture on the bookshelf and went over where he could see it better. Had it really been five years since Zoe and Pierce got married? He remembered their wedding like it was yesterday—especially the reception. Zoe and Pierce had cooked the food themselves ahead of time. He had never seen a more delicious, authentic spread of Cajun food. Several cousins got together and played zydeco and contemporary Cajun music. It was one, big happy party that went on for hours. Why hadn’t he given a second thought to the fact that Zoe’s family wasn’t there? Now that he knew the truth about her, shouldn’t it have given him pause?
Jude looked at the framed picture of Pierce’s family. The Broussards were a proud lot. Even if Pierce somehow weathered the betrayal he must be feeling, would his family? Would they be able to accept Zoe after this?
Stone came out of the bathroom, wearing plastic gloves and carrying paper bags. “I’ve got the shirt, capris, and shoes. I hope we get DNA—and that this jerk is in the system.”
“That makes two of us.”
Mike came out of the bedroom. “I found all five notes, right where Mrs. Broussard said they’d be.” He held up a small bag. “I’ll get these sent to the lab.”
“Good work. Put a rush on it. Gil’s got one of the detectives dusting the office door for prints. There’s got to be something usable in all this.”
Jude’s phone vibrated. He took it off his belt clip, read the display, and put the phone to his ear. “Yeah, Aimee. What’s up?”
“Sheriff, we got a break in the Jarvis case. The lab discovered a spot of blood on Remy Jarvis’s shirt that didn’t belong to Remy. They did a DNA analysis and found the guy in the system—name’s Reagan Cowan, age thirty-nine, of New Orleans. He was arrested in 2001 on cocaine possession. The case was thrown out on some kind of technicality. Cowan’s wanted in Texas on aggravated assault and trafficking charges. We’ve got an APB out on him. I just sent his mug shot to your phone.”
“Good work, Aimee.”
“Also, we just got the report on shoe impressions we cast at the scene of Remy’s murder. I put the report on