The Reunion. Jana DeLeon

thing he’d ever expected and, certainly, the last thing he wanted. Gorgeous, endangered women were part of a past he intended to put far behind him, which was precisely the reason he wanted to sit at a desk until he passed out from boredom. During his eight years in the Middle East, he’d had enough excitement to last a lifetime.

      During the last twelve months, he’d had enough beautiful women to last ten lifetimes.

      Chapter Four

      Joelle looked across the table at William Duhon, as charmed by the aging attorney as she was frustrated by his son. Clearly, Tyler hadn’t inherited any of his father’s charisma. Her private security detail hadn’t spoken a word during the entire drive into Calais, and after arriving at the café, had opened his mouth only long enough to tell his father that he needed to pick up some supplies at the general store and would meet them back at the café in an hour or so. William appeared a bit embarrassed by his son’s behavior, but just nodded and directed her to a booth in the far corner.

      “I apologize for the rather unconventional meeting location,” William said, “but I recall you saying when you called from New Orleans that you hadn’t stopped to eat. I figured we could accomplish two things at once.”

      Joelle took another bite of sirloin steak, smothered in gravy and onions, and said a silent prayer of thanks that she hadn’t stopped for fast food on the way to Calais.

      “It was worth the wait,” she said.

      William smiled. “Johnny’s mother was the best cook in Calais. When he opened this place, it was with the intention to use only her recipes, and he’s kept it that way for thirty years.”

      “If it’s not broken...”

      “Quite so. Johnny’s made a good business here. Most everyone has at least a couple meals a week at the café. Make sure you save some room for banana pudding. That’s the dessert special today.”

      “Banana pudding?” She looked down at her plate. “Maybe I’ll take half of this home for supper. I may have to start jogging while I’m here.”

      William pointed out the plate-glass window to a building across the street. “I’m convinced that this café is the reason the seamstress shop stays in business—letting out waistbands and such.”

      “It probably won’t come to that. My brief glance at the downstairs of the house provided a mental list of things to do that is as long as the Mississippi. I won’t have any problem getting my exercise in.”

      Quite frankly, the state of the house had surprised her more than anything else she’d heard so far. She never expected that her stepfather would keep it up, but he’d been dead for months. Surely, the estate could afford to hire a cleaning service.

      “Can I ask a question?” she asked.

      “Of course. That’s what I’m here for.”

      “Can the estate hire someone to help with the cleaning? Even if I worked on it full-time for two weeks, I couldn’t put a dent in it.”

      William sighed. “The big services in New Orleans won’t travel this far out for the job, especially with no hotel to place the crew in. I’ve hired several local women, but they never last more than a day.”

      “Why not? Surely, jobs are hard to come by here.”

      “Absolutely, and they could all use the money, but they were too afraid to continue working.”

      “Afraid of what?”

      “They claim they saw a ghost.”

      Joelle stared. “You’re serious?”

      “Yes.” William frowned and hesitated a moment before continuing. “There’s been some unpleasantness surrounding the house.”

      “What do you mean?”

      “Your sister Alaina had a stalker who tried to kill her. Sheriff Carter Trahan, now Alaina’s fiancé, shot and killed him in the front drive of the house.”

      “Oh, my! Alaina is all right, though?”

      “She’s fine. After all that was put to rest, we hoped Danae would have an easier time with her two weeks, but a different set of problems surfaced.”

      William took a deep breath and blew it out before continuing. “I don’t know how to say this in a good way, so I’m just going to lay out the facts. Your stepfather used estate money to buy assets and then sell them. He had the authority to use estate money to purchase investment property—such as art—but could not request cash withdrawals outside of a small living allowance.”

      “So that’s why we still have an estate to inherit,” Joelle said, one of her questions answered. “I wondered about that.”

      William nodded. “Danae accepted contract work with the estate to go through all the paperwork in the house, and she located some of Purcell’s personal accounting records. The records show large cash receipts, which we think are from the sale of the assets acquired using estate money, but they also show large cash disbursements.”

      “I thought he became a hermit after we left. What was he purchasing?”

      “Part of the money spent was on you girls.”

      “Us? I doubt that. Purcell hated us. Even as young as I was, I could feel it.”

      “No doubt you’re right.” William paused for a couple of seconds and frowned. “Your adoptive parents passed away, correct?”

      Joelle nodded. “They were already in their fifties when they took me in. They’d never been able to have their own children, and even though they knew it would be a struggle at their age, keeping up with such a young child, they knew it was their last chance at being parents.”

      William’s expression softened. “They were good people, then?”

      “The best. Of course, I would rather have been with my mother and sisters, but given the circumstances, I couldn’t have asked for a better place to go.”

      “I, uh, don’t want to do anything to diminish your opinion in any way, but it appears that Purcell paid each family twenty thousand dollars to take you girls in.”

      Suddenly, something Joelle had never understood clicked. “My college fund.”

      “What do you mean?”

      “My adoptive parents didn’t make a lot of money. I always assumed I’d need loans to pay for college, but they established a fund for me when I came to live with them. I’ve seen the records. They opened the account with twenty thousand dollars. I always wondered where it came from.”

      William’s relief was apparent. “That’s wonderful. Just wonderful.”

      “You said part of the money was spent on the families that took us in. What else did he pay for?”

      “I apologize in advance, because this is most distressing, but we suspect he paid for silence. So far, we’ve discovered payments to the man who pronounced your mother’s death and the funeral director in New Orleans who handled her burial.”

      A wave of nausea rolled over Joelle as William’s words clicked in her mind. “No, you’re not saying...”

      “I’m so sorry to have to tell you this,” William said, “but we think Purcell killed your mother to get control of her money. He probably didn’t know that the terms of the estate would prevent him from taking control of the cash.”

      Her chest felt as if an entire city block had been dropped on it. She tried to concentrate on controlling her breathing, but every intake of air felt as if a burning dagger stabbed her lungs. Her mind slipped to the past and she steeled herself for the vision that would surely come.

      “Are you all right?”

      William’s voice seemed far away, and it took her