One large room. Table in the far corner. Someone sitting there.
"Shut the door."
The voice was harsh, like somebody who had a sore throat, or someone who'd been born with a cigarette in her mouth.
Elise's breathing was weird and shallow; her palms were sweaty.
As a detective, she'd faced a lot of dangerous people in her years without a fluttering pulse or a rise in blood pressure, but this was the hardest thing she'd ever done.
As the room gradually lightened and objects became more distinct, she stepped inside. "Thanks for agreeing to see me." Her voice was tight, but nothing someone who didn't know her would notice.
The woman who was her mother lit a cigarette with a small butane lighter and tossed the lighter on the table. It had been too fast for Elise to get a good look at her. Shoulder-length hair. Possibly dark. That was all.
"When Strata Luna called," Loralie said, "I told her no. Told her I couldn't face you, couldn't see you, but when I thought about not seeing you… well, I would have regretted it. Plus I owe you this."
She sure as hell did.
Elise crossed the room, the soles of her shoes sounding hollow on the wooden floor.
There wasn't much furniture. No pictures on the walls. No rugs. Nothing to absorb the sound.
The table was small and narrow. Elise pulled out the only other chair-a fragile, brittle antique-and sat down, her legs shaking.
Loralie leaned back and crossed her arms, the cigarette held between two fingers. "She was right. You do look like him."
Now Elise could see that the woman's thin face was framed with frizzy gray hair, that her eyes were a faded hazel. She looked sixty, but couldn't have been over fifty.
Just your regular eyes, Elise noted. And a regular face. Hard, something Dust Bowl about it. That defeated-by-life kind of thing. No, it was beyond defeat. She was someone who'd moved on to total acceptance-which to Elise's mind was worse.
"Weird, isn't it?" Loralie took a long drag and blew the smoke at the ceiling with a twist of pale lips. "Seeing me. I've always known who you were, so I never had to wonder." She knocked the ashes into a glass tray overflowing with butts.
Had she been sitting there for hours, smoking one cigarette after the other while waiting for Elise?
"Strata Luna put a curse on me when I was pregnant with you. Did she tell you that?"
"No."
"Said it was because I was teasing and tempting her man."
"Jackson Sweet?"
"Yeah, except Jackson Sweet wasn't anybody's man. He was a free spirit. Wasn't my fault that he wanted me. And I sure as hell wasn't going to turn him down." She let out a single burst of laughter at the absurdity of the idea.
The shaking had stopped. A calm that Elise sometimes experienced under duress had come to her rescue, helping her through the moment. Things moved slower. She had time to think, analyze, react.
"Was Jackson Sweet my father?"
"At that time, I wasn't a prostitute. And I hadn't been with another man for almost a year. There is no way you could be anybody's kid but Jackson's."
Elise took a deep breath. Okay. So there it was. Her parentage laid out once and for all. "Was the curse the reason you left me in a cemetery?"
"I was scared the whole time I was pregnant. I was just a kid. And when someone as powerful as Strata Luna puts a curse on you, it gets your attention. I went to Jackson and begged him to reverse it, but he just laughed. Said Strata Luna had no power over him or his child. But then he got sick, and I was afraid the curse had crossed some barrier and reached all the way to him. And when you were born and I saw your eyes, I went a little crazy and thought it had reached all the way to his child. I figured if I threw you away, offered you up as a sacrifice, then Jackson would get well."
"What were Jackson Sweet's eyes like?" They couldn't have been like Elise's; otherwise Loralie wouldn't have freaked out.
"Brown. Dark brown. I don't know where you got your eyes. Nobody in my family had eyes like that. Jackson had a granny who was a root doctor. People said she had square pupils. I saw a picture of her once, but her eyes were hidden by dark blue conjurer shades. The same shades she passed down to Jackson."
Elise's now. "What did you do after he died?"
"I wanted everything to stop, and got real sick because I wasn't taking care of myself. I did a lot of bad things, a lot of bad drugs. Lived on the street for several years and finally ended up in a hospital for loonies. There was a nun there who told me about this place. Thought maybe I could stay here awhile, because I didn't have any money or anywhere to go."
And she'd been there ever since… "Have you ever thought about leaving?"
"A couple of times, but it's nice here. Peaceful. Safe. I take care of the grounds for my room and board. It works out."
"Do you mind if I have one?" Elise indicated the cigarettes.
Loralie slid the pack and lighter across the table. "You shouldn't smoke."
"Someone else recently told me that." Elise tapped out a cigarette and lit it. Nonfilter. Loralie was serious about her smoking.
"Would you like something to drink?" Loralie asked, bracing her hands on the table, prepared to shove herself to her feet. "Water, maybe?"
Elise shook her head, picked a piece of tobacco off her tongue. The nicotine went straight to her bloodstream, making her heart pound.
"I want you to know I thought about you." Loralie settled back in her chair, pulled out a fresh cigarette, and lit it with the old one. The smoke was getting thick. "I knew you were okay. Knew you were with a good family, and that you had a better life than you would have had with me."
That was true. The family that took her in had never been mean to her. Elise had simply never fit, never adapted. Which was strange because humans were extremely adaptable. It was as if, like some endangered species, she'd stubbornly clung to an unknown heritage.
The conversation shifted and Elise talked a little about herself and Audrey. Then it was over. Loralie announced it was time for Elise to go.
Elise stubbed out her cigarette. It had been a strong one, and she felt light-headed. "Maybe I'll visit again." She would bring a few things from the outside world. A carton of cigarettes. Pralines and chocolate.
Loralie met her gaze without blinking. "It would be better if you didn't," she said bluntly. "This has been hard for me."
Elise was disappointed but understood. Loralie was hiding from the world and her past. Closure was something they'd both needed, and now it was done. Now it was over.
"Could you send me a picture?" Loralie asked. "Of yourself and Audrey? And if you see Strata Luna, tell her I don't bear her any grudge. She's had a lot of heartache in her life. A curse can really backfire, can't it? Instead of chasing after me, she should have been painting her window- and doorframes blue and laying down a trick so evil wouldn't follow."
Elise let herself out.
As she drove back down the overgrown road, David called on her cell phone.
"A body's washed up on Tybee Island," he told her.
The good news just kept coming.
Chapter 38
Tybee Island wasn't in the Savannah Police Department's jurisdiction, but small municipalities often requested assistance in the case of a suspicious death.