Reckless Kiss by Louise Tia

Author:Louise, Tia
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: TLM Productions LLC
Published: 2020-08-07T16:00:00+00:00

15

Deacon

Vandella Landry is a petite woman with small black glasses perched on the end of her nose. Her skin is smooth, and I would think she was in her early forties, if I didn’t know how old her mother was and if her black hair wasn’t streaked with grey.

“Those were hard times.” She shakes her head, looking at the letter I handed her. “People disappeared, people were killed… and the perpetrators walked around in broad daylight.”

My stomach tightens, and I’m picking at an old wound. “Do you know what happened to my grandmother?” I need to know this, as much for my family as for Angel’s.

“I’m sorry.” She shakes her head. “I’ve never seen her name in my records.”

My shoulders fall, and I bite back a swear. These last three days have shown me detective work is not my forte. In fact, it’s safe to say I would never want to investigate anything.

Vandella leans in, glancing around. “But I know someone who might know.”

That’s how I ended up at an old dogtrot shack deep in the woods off Louisiana Highway 528. Vandella gave me directions I almost didn’t believe could be real.

Drive out past the old apostolic church, then take a right at the Miller’s house the county hauled away last year. Keep going until the pavement ends then go two miles and take a right. When you pass a row of four dumpsters, you’re almost there. The dogs will let you know you’ve arrived.

The only wild card was the house the county hauled away. If it weren’t for a mailbox still standing in front of a concrete foundation and a partial brick chimney, I might’ve missed it.

Now, I’m in my car facing the low house standing in a clearing surrounded by pine trees. It’s built of weathered gray wood with a wide opening between the two sides. The tin roof is rusted. It smells like pine needles and wet ground, and at the sound of my vehicle, all five of the dogs hanging around the place start barking. Two are little, a Yorkie and a chihuahua. Another looks like a lab mix, and the other two don’t even get up from the porch, a bloodhound and a Rottweiler. I’ve got my eye on those guys.

Opening the door, I stand out of my car and call across the weedy yard. “Odessa Graves?”

All of the dogs start barking again, but the bigger ones don’t move. It almost feels like a joke. After a minute they start to quiet down, and I call again, louder.

The smaller dogs dance around, barking so hard, I’m worried they’re going to pop out an eyeball.

I’m trying to decide if I should risk going to the door when a craggily voice breaks through behind me. “Stop that racket!”

Stepping back, I see the hunched figure of an old woman with wild hair. Her pale skin is riddled with lines, and she’s wearing a faded dress as gray as her hair. A polished wooden cane is in her hand, and I can’t tell if she uses it to walk or as a weapon.

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