Jana DeLeon - The Reunion

But that meant not only returning to Calais, but staying in that house. The house with bad memories.

A mental image of her vandalized car flashed through her mind. Maybe leaving Jackson for a couple of weeks wasn’t a bad idea. It might give Brant a chance to realize that the Jackson Police Department wasn’t for sale like the one in Willow Grove. She had plenty of vacation coming. In fact, she hadn’t taken more than a day off at a time since she’d started working at the crisis center over five years ago.

A horn honked outside and she stuffed the letter into her purse and swung the strap over her shoulder before hurrying out of the office. She’d call William Duhon, the attorney who’d sent the letter, first thing in the morning. Then she’d call her boss to say she was taking a long overdue vacation...for the long overdue purpose of addressing her past.

Chapter Two

Tyler Duhon stared in dismay across the café table at his father, William, Calais’s resident attorney. Not even Johnny’s absolutely stellar banana pudding could sweeten Tyler’s disposition toward what his father had just asked him to do.

“No way,” Tyler said. “Look, I promise I’m not going to be lying around on your couch all day for months on end. I’ll be starting my own security firm as soon as I get all the permits and approved formation documents.”

William pushed his empty bowl to the edge of the table and took another sip of coffee. “I’m not worried about my couch. Your mother picked it out and I never liked it much—all those roses. And I’m well aware of your business pursuits as I filed the corporate formation documents for you last week.”

“Then what’s your angle?”

“I don’t have an angle. What I have is a spooky, partially repaired old house that has three deaths attached to it in as many months, and an heir who needs to occupy that house for two weeks in order to gain back everything that was stolen from her. I’d really like her to have an easier go of it than her sisters did.”

Tyler frowned. The happenings surrounding Trenton Purcell’s death and the subsequent arrival of two of Ophelia LeBeau’s daughters had set off a chain reaction of threats, break-ins, stalkers and eventually, three deaths—one murder and two in self-defense. But the facts paled in comparison to the sheer amount of disturbance that had rocked the sleepy bayou town.

“I’m not sure what you think I can do,” Tyler said finally.

“You plan on opening a security firm, don’t you? I expect you can protect the heiress and her assets. I’m not expecting you to do so for free. The estate will be happy to cover the cost of on-site security—in fact, in light of recent events, they’re requiring it.”

Tyler shook his head. “I’m opening a firm, but I’m not going to do any of the face-to-face work. I’m focusing solely on hardware and administration. I’ll hire some of my military buddies for the groundwork.”

William scrunched his brow. “You plan on sitting behind a desk all day? You’ll be bored within a week.”

I don’t think so.

“If I get bored,” Tyler said, “we’ll go shopping for a new couch. Mom’s been gone for years. It’s time you got some manly furniture in the place.”

William studied him, and Tyler forced himself not to squirm under his father’s scrutiny. Apparently, his attempt at levity hadn’t distracted his father for a moment. Tyler had never been able to hide anything from the shrewd attorney, who seemed to possess the ability to read minds. And more than anyone, his father knew how much Tyler hated sitting still—hated concentrating on paper and numbers and words. He was smart, but it had been a struggle to get him out of high school. He’d sit in class almost twitching with anxiety, wanting desperately to jump out a window and run until he sated his body’s always-demanding call to action.

It’s why he’d joined the Marine Corps as soon as he graduated.

The Marine Corps had immediately recognized that Tyler was able to sit still long enough to take a flight to where they needed him for action. Beyond that, and you risked a fidgety bored adult, carrying a weapon and expertly trained at using it. When Tyler wasn’t on maneuvers in the Middle East, he worked in the villages alongside the occupants, helping them rebuild their homes. He hadn’t sat behind a desk since high school, and he already knew he was going to be bored.

But you rarely saw people die when you sat behind a desk.

And that was the bottom line. He’d seen too much sadness, too much tragedy, and he needed to get away from it all. Which was why he was digging in his heels over the issue with the heiress. The last thing he wanted to do was sit all day in that monstrosity of a house with some fainting violet of a woman.

“I don’t know what happened overseas,” William said quietly, cutting into his thoughts. “I’d like to think that someday you’ll tell me. But I wouldn’t ask this of you if I had other options. The reality is, you’re the best person for the job and I need the best. This woman’s safety is on my conscience. I can’t rest if she’s not protected.”

Tyler held in a sigh, knowing he’d just lost the fight, but determined to give it one last parting shot. “What about Carter? He’s definitely capable, and his mother would make him do anything for you.”

William nodded. “Quite true, which is why Carter was tasked with verifying the daily presence of all the heirs. But Carter is Calais’s sheriff, and lately, that job is more than full-time. Not to mention that he has a new fiancée who lives with him, and it would be highly inappropriate for him to move in with her sister—even if only for two weeks and for the purpose of protecting her.”

Tyler’s parting shot faded into the distance, and he let out the sigh. If anyone but William had tried such a line on him, he would have accused them of attempting to guilt him into doing what they wanted, but that was something his father would never do. Which was why Tyler knew William was telling the truth when he said the woman’s safety weighed on his conscience. His father was a good man—the best, actually—and he wasn’t afraid to care about people.

Even if it cost him in the long run.

“Fine,” Tyler relented. “I’ll do it. But only for the two weeks the estate requires her to be there. If she wants to stay and redecorate or open a knitter’s colony or something, she’s on her own. And I have no intention of sitting and staring at her all day. You want me in the house, that’s fine, but I want to talk to the contractor and get a list of things I can work on while I’m there.”

William beamed at him. “Thank you, Tyler. I’m sure Zach can provide you with plenty of items that need attention.”

Tyler nodded. Zach Sargent was the contractor William had hired to make repairs on the house, but he’d had other reasons for coming to Calais. Zach’s father, a funeral director, was one of the many people Purcell had paid off, and Zach took the job in order to figure out exactly what his father’s attempted deathbed confession and the large cash deposit had entailed. Zach hadn’t gotten the answers he’d hoped for, but he’d formed a relationship with the youngest of Ophelia’s daughters and had moved back to New Orleans, with her in tow. He returned to Calais on weekends to continue repairs on the house.

“You don’t know how relieved I am that you’ll be my eyes and ears in that house,” William said.

“Why? Surely, it’s all over now.”

William’s smile faded away and he shook his head. “Much of Purcell’s evil intentions and those who carried them out have been exposed, that’s true.”

“But?”

“But I still have a bad feeling about all of it.”