The Accused. Jana DeLeon

“I don’t think that’s right.”

      “If you mean, the person with the most ability didn’t get the job, then I agree. But the reality is, it’s their law firm and Kurt has connections I’ll never have. Better to find out now than spend another seven years here.”

      Emily nodded. “Don’t tell anyone, but I’m only working here to get the experience on my résumé. I intend to establish my career in nonprofits.”

      Alaina smiled. “You’re a good person. I have no doubt you’re going to accomplish a lot for society with your career.”

      Emily blushed and she gave Alaina a shy smile. “What are you going to do now?”

      “I don’t know exactly. I have money saved. It’s not like I’ve had much time off to spend it. I may do nothing for a couple of months and give some serious consideration to my options.”

      “I think that’s a great idea. You deserve a break.” She handed an envelope to Alaina. “This was addressed to you personally, not in care of the law firm, so I didn’t open it. I was afraid it wasn’t business-related.”

      “Thanks,” Alaina said. “I’m going to miss you, Emily. Please stay in touch.”

      “Of course. I’m going to miss you, too, Ms. LeBeau.” She left the office and quietly pulled the door shut behind her.

      Alaina flopped into her office chair and the first twinge of fear ran through her. What have you done? Sure, the job sucked, but it paid well, and given the firm’s long history, she had good standing in the legal community.

      She sighed. If money and a good reputation were all that mattered, it would be perfect. But the reality was, they weren’t the most important things to her. If she was being honest with herself, she’d been fighting discontent for years. Now she was thirty-two years old, and no closer to knowing what she wanted to do with her life than she was when she’d started law school.

      It was depressing on so many levels.

      She glanced down at the envelope lying on her desk and frowned. The return address was for a law firm, but wasn’t one she recognized as related to any of her current work. She reached for her letter opener and then removed the single sheet of paper from the envelope.

      Ms. Alaina LeBeau,

      I am writing to inform you of the death of your stepfather, Trenton Purcell. He passed away one month ago after a long-term illness. While Mr. Purcell had controlling interest of your mother’s property during his lifetime, the will left by your mother indicated that all her property was to transfer to her three daughters, with a single stipulation: each of you must occupy the property for a minimum of two consecutive weeks.

      I have tried to find a way around this stipulation, as most individuals cannot take a two-week break from their normal lives to live in another town, but the wording is unshakable. I am afraid that in order to inherit, all of you must fulfill the terms of the will or the property will be auctioned off and the proceeds passed to secondary heirs and charities.

      You do not have to occupy the property at the same time, but each of you must take residence in the year following the death of your stepfather. That gives you each eleven months to meet the terms of the will. Please give me a call at your earliest convenience so that we can discuss your availability to fulfill these terms.

      Sincerely,

      William Harold Duhon,

      Attorney at Law

      She stared at the letter for several seconds, then dropped it on the desk as if it were going to burn her fingers. All these years she’d assumed her mother had left it all to that worthless man she’d married. Over the years, she’d written letters to Purcell, begging him for information on the whereabouts of her sisters, but they’d all gone unanswered. Every weekend, she’d started to get into her car and drive to Calais and force him to answer for what he’d done. Force him to give her the information she wanted. But every time, something stopped her.

      She’d known Purcell was still alive when she’d moved back to Louisiana—had checked enough to know he was living as a recluse, with almost no contact with the outside world. She’d assumed that the home she’d been born in and spent the first seven years of her life was lost to her forever, along with the sisters she had to struggle to remember.

      And now, it was all being offered to her for a mere fourteen days out of her life. Considering she’d just indefinitely cleared her schedule, it didn’t seem a bad proposition. She had no idea what state the house and grounds were in, but at one time, it had been a beautiful estate. More important, the tiny bayou village of Calais was the perfect place to close herself off from society and figure out what she wanted to do with her life. She’d have all the time in the world to contemplate her options, tucked away deep in the swamp with only the mosquitoes to bother her.

      And her mother’s ghost.

       Chapter Two

      Carter Trahan tossed the paper onto his mother’s kitchen table. “This is crap,” he said.

      “Carter Frederic Trahan!” His mother glared at him as she placed cups of coffee on the table in front of him and William Duhon.

      “No, no, that’s quite all right,” said the silver-haired gentleman, who had been a longtime friend of his mother’s. “The entire situation is a bit unorthodox.”

      “It’s—” he glanced over at his mother, who was frowning at him from the adjacent chair “—worse than unorthodox. It can’t possibly even be legal.”

      “Oh, I assure you that the terms of the will, while a bit unusual, are completely legal.”

      “I meant the other part,” Carter said. “The part where the sheriff has to play babysitter to fulfill the terms of this will. You can’t make me do something that’s not in my job description.”

      William sighed. “You’re right on that part. A promise made over fifty years ago can hardly be legally imposed on the current sheriff. But in the spirit of the agreement, I was hoping you’d help out an old friend.”

      Carter looked across the table at the man who’d been his mother’s biggest supporter when his father had been killed, and sighed. “That was low,” he muttered.

      William beamed. “So you’ll do it?”

      “Explain it to me again.”

      “Each sister must occupy the house for two weeks in a row within the next eleven months. If they are outside of the estate borders for more than twenty-four hours, then the fourteen-day timetable starts all over.”

      “And they’ve all agreed to come?”

      “Not exactly.”

      “What do you mean ‘not exactly’? I thought they all had to do it or the deal was off.”

      “Thus far, I’ve been able to locate only one of the sisters, but she’s agreed to the terms despite the fact that it could all come to nothing if her sisters aren’t located.”

      Carter frowned. “Why doesn’t she know where her sisters are?”

      “Because that evil man sent those girls away after their mother died.” Carter’s mother broke into the conversation.

      Carter stared. His mother was not one to throw around words like evil in a cavalier manner.

      “Don’t give me that look,” she said. “That greedy no-count married their mother for her money and he killed her by breaking her heart. Her body wasn’t even cold before he shipped those girls off to anyone who would take them.”

      A flash of anger rushed through Carter. “But no one would take all three?”

      William shook his head, his expression sad. “If Ophelia had taken the proper steps before she died, things could have turned out differently for