Shadows (Bayou Magic 1)

“As a sidebar,” Cash continues, “speaking of your mother, the police visited her house while they were canvassing the area, looking for his body. They’re going to recommend she be institutionalized, and the house condemned.”

I blink at him, then look at my sisters. “It’s for the best.”

“Then why does it feel…not for the best?” Daphne asks.

“Maybe they can help her,” Millie says. “Maybe getting out of that haunted house and being among professionals who can treat her will help. It won’t make her a nice person, but it has to be better than how she’s living now.”

“Agreed,” I say and nod. “So far, this isn’t awful.”

“Yeah, well, buckle up,” Cash mutters. “I spoke at length with Asher today. They’ve been gathering all of the evidence from his residence, cataloging and poring through it all. His team has worked very hard on this.”

“Of course, they have,” I agree.

“Horace was an intelligent man. Do you mind if I pace, Daphne?”

“Of course not, pace away, just keep talking.”

Cash stands and walks back and forth, speaking as he thinks. “He kept journals. From day one.”

“How long?” Millie asks.

“Nearly forty years,” Cash responds. “I’m going to be brutally honest with you all because you deserve to know the truth, but it’s not comforting information.”

“We need to know,” I say firmly. “And after what we’ve all recently gone through, I think we can take it.”

“Agreed,” Daphne says, as Millie nods enthusiastically. “Just tell us everything.”

Cash swallows hard and then starts to tell us about the journals. The eyes, the blood, and the hair. Horace’s past and plans for the future come rushing out of him in a tidal wave, leaving us all breathless and wide-eyed.

“He eventually wanted all of you,” Cash says at the end. “And he was moving down the line, one at a time. But for years, he practiced, honing his skills, perfecting his plans.”

“Why us?” I wonder aloud. “I mean, it’s not like we knew him that well. He was just some guy that lived nearby and used to help our parents from time to time. Sure, he may have been sleeping with our mother, but it’s not like we spent holidays with the man or called him Uncle Horace or anything.”

“Well, I have theories on that,” Millie says, surprising me. “I remember when I was young, like maybe ten, Mama told me that I was Horace’s daughter.”

Daphne and I gasp in horror.

“Don’t freak,” Millie says, holding up a hand. “She was lying. Mama always lied. She thought it was fun to dick with people’s minds, remember? I’m absolutely not related to that man in any way. But I wonder if she told Horace the same thing, and he believed her?”

“What if she told him that we’re all his children?” Daphne asks.

“And so he wanted to kill his supposed daughters?” I ask. “That doesn’t make sense.”

“Serial killers aren’t rational,” Cash reminds me. “Just because they’re smart, it doesn’t make them sane. So, if what Millie says is true, it’s absolutely possible that he believed you were his kids, and that’s where the fixation came from. We can only speculate on why he turned to sexually sadistic torture and murder versus requesting a simple DNA test.”

“Well, that’s some messed-up shit,” Millie says with a sigh. “Not that it wasn’t already. Thanks for telling us.”

“I’m not done,” Cash says. “There’s more.”

“More?” I ask.

“Oh, yeah. This is where it gets bad.”

“This is where it gets bad?” Daphne says, letting out a half-laugh. “Great. Give it to us.”

“The three of you are his next of kin.”

We sit silently, watching as Cash stops pacing and turns to the three of us.

“Did you hear me?” he asks again.

“So you know that he’s our father? Pretty sure that was a horrible joke,” Millie says.

“I wish it were,” he replies gently. “And I don’t know about the DNA, but Horace had a very detailed will. It’s legal, and he names the three of you as equal beneficiaries, inheriting all of his property.”

“Burn it,” I announce angrily. “Burn it all to the fucking ground.”

“Great idea,” Daphne says.

“And that means,” Cash continues, “that as executors of the estate, you have to decide what to do with his remains.”

“Burn them with the fucking house,” I reply.

“I’m quite sure you can do that,” Cash says with a nod. “Though maybe not with the house.” He grins. “No decision needs to be made at this time. The house is still a crime scene, and no autopsy has been done yet, so there’s no need to make a decision today.”

“I say burn it all,” I repeat and stare at the teacup I have resting in my lap. I scowl as, right before my eyes, the warm liquid splashes over the rim and onto my leg. “Hey! What the hell?”

“Did you spill?” Daphne asks.

“No. I was just sitting here, and it just…sloshed over the side.”