Bayou Christmas Disappearance
Author
Denise N. Wheatley
Reads
17,8K
Chapters
19
Chapter One
Mona Avery tightened the grip on her handbag as she hurried down the dark, hazy street.
“Where is that bed-and-breakfast?” she muttered into the night air.
The investigative journalist peered through the dense gray fog that had descended upon Lake Landry, Louisiana. A haunting stillness lurked along the desolate road.
She picked up speed, walking at a brisk pace. The heels on her tan suede ankle boots clicked loudly against the uneven gray pavement, reverberating through her eardrums.
A feeling of dread rumbled through her body. Mona struggled to fight it off, willing her legs to move faster as they grew heavy with angst.
She studied the shadows looming over unkempt lawns surrounding the few shuttered businesses lining the block. Not a stream of light shone from the shabby wooden structures.
Mona had arrived in Lake Landry less than a week ago to investigate the disappearance of her old college roommate, Olivia Whitman. She hadn’t been back to the small, swampy town since they’d graduated.
A feeling of guilt pulled inside her chest. Mona regretted canceling their annual girls trip to Sedona, Arizona, that summer. It was a tradition they’d established years ago in an effort to stay connected.
But Mona’s hectic life in Los Angeles, where she worked for the esteemed Cable News Broadcast outlet, didn’t leave much time for a personal life. Keeping up with friends was a challenge. And now, it was too late. Olivia was gone.
Think positive, she told herself. Olivia is not gone for good...
Returning to Lake Landry should’ve evoked feelings of warmth and nostalgia. Mona had nothing but good memories of the town where she’d spent four years at the prestigious Emmanuel University, party hopping with Olivia while still managing to ace her courses.
But instead, she was overcome by a chilling sense of fear after her friend had disappeared.
A gust of whistling wind blew through Mona’s shoulder-length curls. She brushed them away from her face, struggling to focus on the barren path ahead.
Mona had just filmed a live on-air broadcast near Olivia’s last known location. When shooting wrapped, she felt anxious and hoped that the drive back to The Bayou Inn would help ease her frazzled nerves. But after the rental car ran out of gas and she decided to walk, she got turned around in the bleak, unfamiliar area.
Mona emitted a trembling groan. She loosened the belt on her chocolate brown blazer, then pressed her hand against her slender stomach, willing the nervous churn to cease.
Mona forged ahead, running the facts of Olivia’s case through her mind.
Maybe that’ll alleviate this eerie sense of panic...
Olivia was last seen exiting the LLL Water Quality Laboratory, where she worked as an environmental scientist. Her coworkers said she was heading to the Beechtree neighborhood to gather samples of residential water sources. When Mona asked why, she discovered that Olivia was checking for traces of lead and chromium.
Mona questioned several people who lived and worked in the dismal Beechtree area off camera. They claimed to have never seen her.
Mona decided to film her latest segment in the vicinity of the water source, hoping that the broadcast would jar someone’s memory. Shortly after it ended, she received a strange text message.
Stop your investigation into Olivia Whitman’s disappearance and get out of Lake Landry!
The message was disturbing to say the least. And now, as Mona hurried through the dim haze, she couldn’t help but feel as though she was in danger.
Stay calm. Breathe. You’re fine...
The meditative affirmations didn’t help. Because Mona felt far from fine.
She curled her hands into tight fists, wondering who would have done something to Olivia. And why.
Mona as well as everyone else in town had their suspicions.
Blake Carter.
Blake was Olivia’s cold, narcissistic husband. His arrogance stemmed from the wealth his family had garnered through their mega successful Transformation Cosmetics company. He and Olivia had been together since college. Even then, Mona despised his cocky demeanor.
She’d tried to convince Olivia that she deserved better. It wasn’t as if her own family didn’t have their fair share of wealth. The Whitmans had collected a vast fortune thanks to Elevate Realty Group, their powerful real estate development firm.
Through the years, Blake’s behavior had only worsened. Once he became president of Transformation Cosmetics, his level of egotism reached an all-time high.
But Olivia believed in the relationship and thought she could change him. So she stayed in it.
That fateful decision may have cost Olivia her life.
Mona snapped out of her thoughts as she approached the end of the pitch-black road.
She stopped abruptly.
“Oh!” Mona breathed, suddenly remembering the walking directions app on her cell phone.
She snatched the phone from her pocket and pounded the home button. The screen was blank. Her cell was dead.
“Dammit!” she screeched.
Mona resisted the urge to throw the phone down onto the ground and stomp her heel through the screen.
“Come on, come on. Where is this place...?”
She spun around, her eyes darting back and forth. Despite the steamy temperature, a piercing chill shot up her spine.
She crossed her arms in front of her and glanced up, noticing that the bulb inside of a rusted green streetlamp had burned out.
Of course, she thought while struggling to peer through the darkness.
Her head swiveled right, then left.
Which way...which way...?
Mona closed her eyes. Took a deep breath.
She opened them, made a swift left turn and hoped for the best.
Just when she thought she’d caught a glimpse of The Bayou Inn’s dimly lit cedarwood sign, a pair of glaring yellow headlights sped around the corner.
A dark blue SUV careened toward her. Its lights flickered in her direction.
Mona froze.
Stinging pricks of fear shot up her calves.
The driver of the vehicle blew the shrill horn.
She recoiled and stumbled backward. Her boot’s slim heel slid inside a crack in the sidewalk, causing her to fall into a lamppost.
The truck pulled toward the side of the road. Mona’s eyes squinted. She struggled to see inside. But the tinted windows kept the driver’s identity hidden.
When the SUV stopped right next to her, Mona reached around and gripped the lamppost.
Rusted-out edges of chipped paint scraped against her fingertips. She ignored the pain, digging deeper for fear of what was to come.
The driver slowly opened the door.
Mona held her breath, contemplating making a run for it. But her legs, leaden with fear, wouldn’t allow her to budge.
She flinched at the sound of the car door slamming shut. Heavy footsteps pounded the asphalt.
“Hey, are you okay?” a deep male voice boomed.
“What do you want?” Mona screeched, cringing at the sound of alarm in her voice.
“I, uh... I noticed you out here wandering around and just wanted to make sure you’re all right. Seems like you need some help.”
“I—I’m fine,” she stammered.
“You sure? Because you don’t appear to be fine...”
The sound of footsteps drew closer. Mona backed farther into the lamppost.
“Despite what you may think,” the man continued, “I’m willing to help you.”
Mona held her breath. Then, she realized that the man’s voice sounded familiar.
Standing in front of her was Detective Dillon Reed.
“Detective Reed!” she shrieked, pressing her hand against her forehead. “You just scared me half to death! What are you doing out here, creeping up on me like that?”
The ruggedly handsome detective’s wide-set eyes lowered curiously. He chuckled, then tilted his head to the side.
“Well, first of all, my apologies,” he replied smugly. “I certainly didn’t mean to scare you. And I wasn’t creeping up on you. Like I said, I was just checking to make sure you’re okay. Now if I may ask, what are you doing out here? I’m surprised to see you roaming around this desolate area by yourself.”
Mona dabbed the perspiration from her face and straightened her blazer. She looked directly at the detective, noticing that his full, sexy lips had curled into an amused smirk.
“You’re really getting a kick out of this, aren’t you?” she asked. “Are you some sort of sadist? Do you enjoy the fact that you almost gave me a heart attack just now?”
“Not at all,” Dillon snorted, covering his mouth while clearly stifling a snicker.
Mona glared at him. The pair hadn’t exactly hit it off since she’d arrived in Lake Landry. He was heading up Olivia’s missing person investigation and feared her coverage would turn it into a media circus.
Even though he clearly didn’t want her there, she couldn’t seem to fight off her inherent attraction to him.
“But you still haven’t answered my question,” Dillon said. “What are you doing out here?”
“I just got done filming my latest news segment over by the water source where Olivia was testing for chemicals. As you know, that area was allegedly her last known location. I’m hoping the broadcast will jar someone’s memory. Then as I was heading to the inn, my car ran out of gas.”
Mona paused, throwing her hand on her hip while peering at Dillon.
“Wait,” she continued. “You must not have checked your texts. I sent you a message last night asking if you’d be willing to go live on air with me today to discuss the case.”
Or did you just choose to ignore it? she was tempted to add.
Dillon sighed deeply, running his hand over his dark, short hair.
“Mona, you already know how I feel about blasting this investigation all over the media. I’m trying to maintain the case’s integrity without tainting it with the public’s opinion. It’s bad enough all these salacious blogs and podcasts are putting out false information.”
“But the public could very well help solve this case, Detective Reed. Someone may have seen something that the authorities missed.”
“Tuh,” Dillon grunted, turning away from her.
Mona watched as his scowl caused wrinkles of skepticism to invade his deep brown skin. She could sense angry waves of heat coming off his body. She knew he wanted nothing more than for her to pack up and go back to Los Angeles.
Lucky for her, Dillon’s boss felt differently.
Mona had forged a close relationship with Chief Richard Boyer back when she was still in college, interning at Lake Landry’s local news station. He was an eager police officer who’d oftentimes acted as the department’s spokesperson. Whenever the pair worked together, the chief would commend Mona’s talents and predict that she’d go far in her career.
After Mona arrived in Lake Landry to cover Olivia’s case, Chief Boyer welcomed her with open arms. He’d encouraged Dillon to partner with her in his investigation since she was familiar with the town and had a friendship with Olivia.
He’d initially refused. But eventually, albeit reluctantly, he gave in to the chief’s request.
But Dillon had yet to really let her in. And Mona found herself struggling to crack his hardened demeanor.
“Listen, Detective,” Mona said softly. “Olivia is beautiful. Her family is well-known and wealthy. Her husband’s family owns one of the most popular cosmetic companies in the country. The fact that she just up and vanished is baffling. Her case is going to attract attention. Unfortunately, there isn’t much you can do about that.”
“Yeah, well, I can certainly try to regulate the media that comes to town trying to get me involved in their unsolicited investigations.”
Mona took a step back. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. She was getting tired of trying to convince Dillon that she was there to help rather than hinder Olivia’s case.
“Do you know how many anonymous tips I’ve gotten,” he began, “accusing Olivia’s husband of murdering her? None of them have held any merit. Yet thanks to all the salacious media coverage, Blake Carter’s name is being dragged through every mud puddle across the country. I’ve even had to send a squad car out to his house just to keep an eye on things.”
Mona stared at Dillon and sighed.
“Well, have you bothered to look into any of those tips?” she asked. “Maybe there’s some merit to them. I’ve got a slew of stories I could share with you about Olivia and Blake’s relationship. But that would require you to actually sit down and talk with me about the case. Which you’ve refused to do. Despite the chief’s request for you to do so...” she added under her breath.
“I heard that. And going off of rumors and hearsay isn’t going to solve this investigation. I need solid evidence.”
Mona paused, struggling to come up with a snappy comeback. But she couldn’t. Because Dillon was right. She didn’t have any solid evidence. Yet.
“Look,” she told him, “all I’m saying is that two heads are better than one. I know Lake Landry. I know Olivia. And I know Blake. Let me help you with this. I know I can—”
“May I offer you a ride somewhere, Ms. Avery?” Dillon interrupted.
Mona threw her arms out at her sides.
“So that’s it? You’re just gonna shut me out? Go against Chief Boyer’s request that we work together on this case to try to figure out what happened to Olivia?”
He turned around and headed toward the curb.
“If you want that ride, I’ll meet you in the truck.”
“You have got to be kidding me,” Mona muttered, watching as Dillon hopped inside the SUV and slammed the door shut.
She entertained the idea of storming off and taking her chances on getting back to the inn alone.
Don’t be ridiculous, she thought. Despite being frustrated with the ornery detective, wandering around in the dark would be worse than being in his presence.
Mona strutted over to the passenger side of the truck and climbed in. She barely clicked her seat belt before Dillon peeled away from the curb and sped down the street.
“Whoa,” Mona uttered, grabbing the door handle. She glanced over at him and rolled her eyes. “Sorry that my being here pisses you off so badly.”
“Oh, you’re far from sorry. I think you’re actually happy to be here interfering in my investigation. You know, with all the cases you’ve covered this year, I would think you’d be eager to take a break from work and head home to Evergreen, Colorado, to spend the holidays with your family.”
Mona snickered while staring straight ahead. “For you to be so irritated by my presence, you certainly know a lot about me.”
When he fell silent, she knew she’d hit a nerve. Because one thing she’d learned about Dillon, he was never at a loss for words.
“You’re staying at The Bayou Inn, right?” he asked.
“Right. And way to change the subject.”
“What do you want me to say?” Dillon shot back. “That I looked you up when Chief Boyer told me that some famous investigative journalist was coming to town to insert herself in my investigation? Of course I did. I guess that’s just the detective in me.”
Mona leaned her head against the back of her seat in exasperation.
“Come on, Dillon! I’m on your side. I wanna find out what happened to Olivia just as badly as you do. As soon as I heard that she’d gone missing, I ran to my boss’s office and insisted that I come to Lake Landry and cover this case. When he gave me the green light, I immediately nixed my holiday plans and flew straight here.”
“Humph,” Dillon grumbled. He pressed down on the accelerator, the engine roaring as he flew down the winding pitch-black roads. “I wish you would’ve consulted with me before you canceled those plans.”
She reached up and gripped the grab handle, bracing herself when the SUV careened around a corner.
“Detective Reed, I’m going to do all that I can to find out what happened to my friend, with or without your blessing. Don’t forget, your boss happily welcomed me into this investigation. So I have every right to be here. Now, I can either be your biggest ally or the sharpest thorn in your side. The choice is yours.”
Dillon’s lips twisted with irritation. He remained silent, slowing down while approaching the inn.
Mona looked out at The Bayou Inn’s beautiful yellow Victorian exterior. Its festive holiday decor was a stark contrast from the gloomy mood inside the truck.
Lush evergreen wreaths adorned with bright gold bows lined the windows. Sweet-smelling garland made of fresh eucalyptus, bay leaves and red berries hung from the porch’s white railings. Colorful icicle string lights flickered along the roof’s shingles. The majestic Atlas cedar that stood in the middle of the yard twinkled with sparkling lights, highlighting the tree’s silvery blue foliage.
For Mona, staying at the inn felt bittersweet. On one hand, it brought back fond memories of her college years. But on the other hand, it was a constant reminder that Olivia was gone.
The Whitman family owned The Bayou Inn. During their time at the university, the two friends earned extra cash by working there on weekends.
They’d help prepare the ornately decorated rooms for guests by setting up welcome gift baskets and dusting off the beautiful Parisian furnishings, contemporary artwork and low-country antiques.
Mona was jolted out of her thoughts when Dillon stopped in front of the entrance.
Just as he put the truck in Park, a streak of lightning flashed across the sky. It was followed by a roaring crackle of thunder, then a sudden downpour of rain.
“Oh wow,” Mona gasped, staring out at the torrential shower as raindrops crashed against the windshield.
“Oh wow is right. Looks like I came to your rescue just in time. Imagine roaming around out there in the dark and then, boom! A monsoon hits.”
Mona waved off Dillon’s dramatics and grabbed her purse. “I’m sure I would’ve survived. But nevertheless, thanks for the ride.”
Before she opened the door, Dillon put the truck in Drive and tapped the accelerator, making sure that he was parked directly underneath the inn’s awning.
“So you won’t get wet,” he told her.
Mona paused, surprised by the considerate gesture.
“Thanks,” she responded quietly. “I appreciate it.”
Dillon’s softened expression left her wondering whether she should invite him inside. Moments alone with him like this were rare. She wanted to take advantage of it. Maybe he’d open up to her in front of the inn’s cozy fireplace over a mug of hot apple cider and a plate of Cajun ginger cookies.
What do you have to lose? she asked herself. Just go for it...
Mona turned to him and cleared her throat. “Hey, would you like to—”
Before she could finish, Dillon’s cell phone rang.
“Excuse me,” he said, reaching down into the cup holder and grabbing his cell.
Mona slumped back into her seat, instinctively knowing that the chance to invite him in had passed her by.
“Detective Reed,” he said into the phone. “What’s up, Officer Freeman?...Yes, Olivia’s car was recovered outside of Jefferson Parish...Exactly. Nowhere near the area where she went missing...We did turn it over to Forensics. Came back clean...Oh, you got a new tip? What time did it come in?...Yeah, we should definitely look into it now. I’ll swing by the station and pick you up in a few. Thanks.”
Dillon disconnected the call and turned to Mona. “I need to get going. But before I leave, a word of advice. Be sure to keep that gas tank full.”
“Do you think that tip you just received will lead to some solid evidence?” Mona asked, ignoring his unsolicited suggestion. She crossed her fingers underneath her purse, hoping Dillon would give in and share the details.
“I don’t know yet. We’ll see.”
She waited for him to elaborate. When he didn’t, she parted her lips to ask another question. But before she could, Dillon threw open his door and hopped out of the truck.
He jogged over to the passenger side and opened her door. Mona just sat there staring at him, irritated that the conversation had ended so abruptly.
He extended his hand in an attempt to help her out of the truck. She ignored it, climbing out on her own and brushing past him.
“Oh, so it’s like that?” he asked.
Mona spun around and faced him. “Yes. It’s definitely like that. You set the tone, Detective. I’m just following your lead. But like I said, I’m going to be involved in this investigation whether you like it or not. I’ll actually be down at the station tomorrow to meet with Chief Boyer.”
“But...why?”
“Thanks again for the ride,” Mona told him, ignoring his question. “Have a good night.”
And with that, she swiveled on her heels and strutted toward the inn’s white wooden door.
Right before going inside, Mona glanced back at Dillon. He was still standing there, a stern expression on his face as he watched her walk away.
Stay on the case, she told herself, now even more determined to find Olivia. With or without Dillon’s help...
