Page 10 of Memento Mori

“You will,” I said and flashed her a grin.

“No, I won’t. And I have my reasons.”

That was interesting. She could have simply left it as a statement, that she didn’t believe. But that little bit at the end piqued my interests. I wasn’t sure if she’d tell me anything, but I had to ask. “Care to share?”

She took in a deep breath, and for a minute I thought she might tell me to mind my business. Instead, she surprised me. “I lost my best friend. She was taken from me, and I still have no answers, despite my best efforts. If ghosts were real, she would have found a way to reach me.” She glanced at me again. “She would have told me what happened to her. We had a bond that transcended friendship or romance. Even family. She never would have just left me wondering. Never.” She bit her lip.

I couldfeelthe pain coming off her in waves. I knew that pain. I wasn’t sure if it would help, but I felt like I needed to share a bit, as well. “I understand. My twin sister was murdered.” I heard Hanlen suck in a sharp breath and saw her shut her eyes for a second. “That pain doesn’t go away. It only changes. I personally find comfort in believing, but I can understand the flip-side of that coin, as well.”

Saying the wordcoinmade me think of Mr. Reynolds, who I had never tried to reach out to. “Speaking of coins . . . Have you contacted your client about your dead skiptrace?”

“I did,” she said. “They were kind of pissed that I got paid half of our agreed rate for basically doing nothing, but were as perplexed as I was.Am. Nothing that I or anybody else has dug up lends credence to a motive. He’s not even from here. I assume it was just a crime of opportunity for this sicko I now know has been terrorizing the city. I mean, what else could it be, right?”

I honestly didn’t know. Wren and Findley didn’t seem to know, either. “That’s the most logical assumption, though my intuition tells me we’re missing something. But the police are being very tight-lipped, and my contacts haven’t uncovered anything either.”

Her brow furrowed. “Your contacts? Why would you be working on that case?”

I fiddled with a string on my jeans. Did I tell her? And if I did, howmuchshould I tell her? I settled for a partial truth. “The crime—actuallyallof the murders with that signature so far—matches what was done to my sister. The person who killed your ex-con is likely the same asshole who took my family from me and murdered at least two other people that we know of so far. I personally think there are many more, but I’m not an investigator, and my investigative techniques aren’t anything that would hold up in court. Me looking into it is more for my peace of mind. A search for answers of some kind, even though there is no closure for something like that. As I’m sure you know.”

“I understand that,” she said, her hands tightening on the steering wheel.

We both went quiet for the rest of the drive, likely thinking of those we’d lost. When Hanlen pulled up to the massive wrought-iron gate of the property, I felt a thrill skitter through me. I had wanted access to this plot of land since I pitched the idea for the show to the network, and they picked up the pilot. Now, five seasons into our tenure, we had the following, the ratings, and the clout to get into some places others hadn’t been able to maneuver into as yet, and I could do the occasional episode on sites that I and the team were personally interested in, as well.

The drive was long and lined on either side by trees that created a natural tunnel of sorts, the building at the end framed beautifully as we approached. I pulled out my cell to snap some pictures through the windshield, the shadows playing beautifully over the lane and the surroundings. The house was cream and gray with forest green shutters, the columns on the front porch tall and proud. The railing around the second-story porch had been painted a burnt orange that was unusual but lent to the overall aesthetic of the property. Still, I had to joke . . .

“Did your mom pick the new colors? I feel like she’s channeling her new Florida vibes.”

Hanlen laughed as she pulled up alongside the front porch and turned the key. “It does look like the Miami Hurricanes threw up, doesn’t it? Actually, we had a local historical society pick the colors when we updated the property. Something about it being old Southern home design and an homage to something or other. I’m not actually sure. Still, as odd as it is, it’s also kind of perfect.”

I had to agree. It looked wonderful, and I couldn’t wait to see the inside and the acreage. Up ahead, through the middle of the property, I saw a yawning maw that reminded me of a portal. I shook myself free of an involuntary shiver when I saw an apparition pass through it. Spanish moss hung across the opening. “What’s that?” I pointed.

Hanlen looked where I indicated. “There’s actually a courtyard. The building is kind of a squared horseshoe shape, built around it. There are benches and a large fountain, and access to the internal balconies and a secondary access to the widow’s walk. The design is quite ingenious. I remember how fun it was to play, darting in and out of the house through the open French doors to the outside and then running down the hall only to emerge through another set of doors to the courtyard. And we used to use the courtyard all the time for neighborhood and family gatherings, setting up our huge table right in the middle.”

“I can’t wait to see it all,” I replied, mentally imagining where we could set up the cameras and other equipment. I had barely seen anything, and this location was already a dream come true.

“Well, shall we?” she asked, and I grabbed my bag and opened the door.

“Absolutely. Let’s.”

Chapter 10

Hanlen

Being back at the old plantation was a bit surreal. Walking through that moss-draped arch was like taking a step back in time. I could see where the sayingghosts of memoriescame into play because I could almost see teenage me running around with my friends, especially Reagan, my mom yelling at us to be careful. Putting frogs and crawfish in the fountain and hanging Halloween décor from the balconies. They were happy memories, and I caught myself rubbing at my chest. Dev noticed.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“I’m good. Really good, actually. Just remembering some happy times.”

“Oh, that’s great.” He squeezed my biceps and then walked ahead, taking in the entirety of the courtyard. I could almost see him mentally taking notes and imagining things for the show. I really needed to take some time tonight and watch the clips my mom had sent. I was still way on the side of disbelief with all of it, but I knew there was an almost cult following for shows like Dev’s and that a lot of people genuinely believed in it all and then some. The melting pot of life took all kinds, and those who believed in the supernatural were just another spice to the stew of it all.

Over the next hour, I showed Dev around, pointing out areas that I knew were supposedhotspotsand telling him some stories from my childhood. He took copious notes, nodding and grinning like a fool the entire time. He really was mesmerizing. He was the kind of guy I could see myself falling for. Too bad he didn’t live in Texas.

“So, my caretakers probably have better stories for you,” I said, glancing at my watch. “They should actually be here in a little bit. One or both of them usually comes to the main house in the evenings. Do you want to walk the property until they show up?”

“I would love that.”

We wandered around the acreage, and I showed Dev the stables and work quarters and other outbuildings. Most of them had been out of use for ages, but we’d had everything updated and brought to code before we left. I pointed off into the distance past a grove to where you could barely see the chimney of a home and told Dev that it was where Beatrice and August lived, and that the family cemetery was just behind it. As if I had conjured her, the woman in question came walking towards us from out of the trees, her ample grandmotherly form draped in black, her broomstick skirt stirring up dust from the path. She raised a hand and headed our way, her blue-fabric wagon trailing her like a puppy.

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