Page 44 of Cursed
“You’re safe and dry,” she repeated, over and over, even as she fought the sensation of water clawing at her, dragging her under. She wasn’t even sure what she was doing. But somehow, she got control of herself.
The terror ebbed, the way the water had ebbed in the real flood, leaving her limp and shaken. She sat behind the wheel, dragging in air and forcing herself to breathe out slowly.
When she felt in control, she glanced around at the wilderness landscape. Something lying on the shoulder caught her eye, something dark and evil looking.
Gris-gris.
She wanted to stay inside the car where the evil couldn’t touch her. Then she reminded herself she wasn’t going to pieces over a voodoo charm.
Grimly, she firmed her jaw and climbed out, feeling muggy heat envelop her as she stood on shaky legs, one hand on the door. When she felt like she could stay erect on her own, she tottered across the road, her eyes fixed on the black blob—which turned out to be a small lump of tar, studded with foreign objects, like the one she and Andre had found outside the library window.
Straw and moss and a strip of paper were stuck to it. But what caught her eye was a scrap of limp and soggy leather. She gasped as she recognized what it was—part of a sandal she had lost in the flood.
Without thinking about what she was doing, she kicked out her foot, connected with the thing and booted it into the water, where it floated on the surface for several seconds, then sank with a gurgling sound.
The moment it disappeared from view, she knew she had let emotion sweep away reason. The gris-gris was evidence—and she had just chucked it into the water.
She was a disciplined, trained operative. Yet she’d acted in panic. A film of sweat bloomed on her body as she stared for a long moment at the place where the evil charm had disappeared below the surface of the water. No way could she retrieve it now.
Her knit top was clinging wetly to her upper body as she scrambled back into the vehicle and slammed the door. Jamming her foot on the gas pedal, she made the car lurch as she started toward town again.
Her heart had just settled down to a calmer rhythm when she spotted the voodoo priestess’s house. Most likely, the woman had left the charm on the road. What if Morgan stopped and demanded to know why?
And what if someone else had done it—to incriminate the priestess?
She wanted to slow down and look at the house. She wanted to speed up and flee from danger.
Somehow, she kept the car moving at a steady pace as she passed the dwelling. By the time she reached Main Street, she had convinced herself she was feeling almost normal.
There were few people in town, and when she cut her engine in front of a convenience store that offered fax services, hers was the only car.
As she walked toward the door, she was thinking she would have preferred to fax the material in private. But her laptop couldn’t handle hard copy. And if she used the machine in Andre’s office, he’d have a record of the transaction.
In the parking lot, she used her cell phone to call her office.
Teddy Granada answered
“Hi. It’s Morgan,” she said, feeling a wave of homesickness sweep over her. She’d wondered how she was going to survive after Trevor had died. The support of her Decorah friends had probably saved her life. Now she was far away from their help.
“Morgan! You’re on assignment in Louisiana, right?”
“I guess the news made it to the jungle telegraph,” she joked.
“So, did you just want to talk to a friendly voice? Or what?” Teddy asked.
“Actually, I don’t have a scanner, and I need to fax some maps. When they come through, give them to Frank.”
“No problem.”
After thanking the office IT guy, Morgan went into the store. As she approached the counter, the clerk did a double take.
“Something wrong?” she asked, trying not to sound confrontational
“You’re the librarian, right?” he asked.
She sighed. Apparently, everybody in town knew who she was. “Yes. Can I use your fax machine?”
“How many pages?”
