The Whispering Room

The books were stored neatly in the shelves, but underneath the lemon oil, Evangeline could smell the invasive scent of mildew and rot.

Retracing her steps, she ended up back in the front hall, her gaze lighting on the latched door beneath the stairwell.

The whispering room.

I stayed in there for a long time with the baby. Until all the screaming finally stopped.

That’s where Daddy used to make us wait for him. That’s why we were never allowed to talk above a whisper. He didn’t want anyone to hear us.

Those little-girl whispers seemed to echo through the empty house as Evangeline reached for the latch. Taking a deep breath, she threw open the door to the light.

Something rushed out at her and she screamed as she jumped back. Losing her footing, she fell with a hard thud against the wood floor.

The flashlight flew out of her pocket, but somehow Evangeline managed to cling to her gun, and now she swung the .38 from side to side, her heart pounding inside her chest.

Something dark circled the room, and as it swooped toward her, Evangeline ducked her head under her arms and squealed. When she looked up, the bat had flown into the screen door and clung like blight to the torn mesh.

Struggling to her feet, she brushed off the seat of her jeans and retrieved the heavy Maglite that had rolled away. She switched it on, relieved to find that the bulb still burned steadily, and walked back over to the door. As the beam prowled the close space, Evangeline’s mind once again conjured an image of two little girls huddled inside, whispering words of comfort as they clung to one another in the dark.

She could still hear those whispers, and as the hair lifted at the back of her neck, she glanced over her shoulder.

No one was there.

The whispers were all in her head.

An oppression she couldn’t explain settled over her as she closed and latched the door, then moved to the stairs. The house had a very dark history and the weight of those memories pressed down on her with each step that she climbed. The whispers in her head turned to screams as she reached the top of the stairs.

This was where it had happened. Up here, in one of these rooms.

Evangeline paused, her legs suddenly leaden. She didn’t want to go on.

Then just leave. What did you think you would accomplish by coming here anyway?

She had been hoping to find Rebecca Lemay. The woman had invaded her home, threatened her son, and Evangeline needed to know why. She needed to make sure that it never happened again.

Taking a deep breath, she continued her search. As she entered the largest bedroom, she kept her weapon at the ready, both hands sweaty on the grip. She moved quickly to the closet, threw back the door and glanced inside.

Satisfied that neither bat nor human would jump out at her, she walked over to the window and stared out at the water. A lone heron circled above the swamp grass, its wings gilded by the late afternoon light. Through the broken window, Evangeline could hear the matinee song of the cicadas and bull-frogs drifting up from the bayou, and the metallic tinkle of an old wind chime.

She started to turn away, then froze.

Someone stood beside her car.

He remained so still that Evangeline had to stare for a long moment to assure herself he was real and not a shadow. Then his head tilted and she knew that he’d spotted her in the window.

Even from a distance, she could feel the impact of his eyes, the shock of his unwavering scrutiny.

He was tall, thin and very pale. His black hair gleamed like a raven’s wing in the light, and as their gazes clung, Evangeline felt the thrill of familiarity charge through her veins.

He was the man from the cemetery.

She couldn’t see the scarred side of his face, but she knew he was the same man.

But what would he being doing way out here?

Unless he’d followed her.

Maybe he’d followed her to Mount Olive that day, too.

Whirling away from the window, Evangeline sprinted across the room and rushed down the stairs. Weapon still clutched in both hands, she lunged across the front hall to the screen door, paused to glance out, then bolted onto the porch, the gun sweeping from side to side.

He was gone.

She checked both sides of the porch to make sure he wasn’t lying in wait for her. And as she turned back to the yard, she spotted him again, this time at the edge of the woods.

He stopped and turned, as if waiting for her to come after him. It was the same cat-and-mouse game he’d played with her at the cemetery.

“Hey!” she shouted as she clamored down the steps. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

He waited until she’d closed some of the distance between them before turning to disappear into the trees.

“Stop! I’m a police officer!”

She tore after him, but the moment she plunged into the forest, Evangeline knew she was out of her element. The dense trees provided too many hiding places, and she’d already lost sight of her quarry. If she’d learned anything in her years as a cop it was to never knowingly put herself at risk of an ambush.

She retraced her steps to the clearing and walked over to her car. The thought crossed her mind as she opened the door that while she’d been in the house, the man had had plenty of time to tamper with her engine. She hadn’t locked the car, so he would have had easy access to the hood release. He could have removed the fuel pump fuse or disconnected the coil input wire. There were a number of ways to disable a car quickly for someone who knew what they were doing.

Evangeline climbed into the car and started the ignition. The engine turned over immediately, and she breathed a sigh of relief as she backed to the end of the driveway and turned the car toward the road.

By the time she reached the highway, the sun had dropped below the treetops and the sky turned crimson on the horizon.

As she turned into the sunset, a flash of fire hit her in the eyes, temporarily blinding her. Her sunglasses had fallen to the floor on the passenger’s side, and as she leaned across the console to reach them, she saw the dull gleam of a black tail protruding from underneath the front seat.

Evangeline jerked her hand back just as the snake slithered onto the floorboard. It was huge, the body as thick as a man’s arm and the head the size of a fist. A musty smell filled the car, along with the dank odor of the swamp and something far more foul.

Sensing danger, the diamond-shaped head lifted nearly a foot into the air, and the slitted eyes focused on Evangeline, paralyzing her with a cold, stark terror. The mouth gaped, revealing the cottony interior and the long fangs that were as sharp as needles.

She tried to tell herself not to panic. She’d read somewhere that adult pit vipers rarely released all of their poison on humans. They reserved it for prey that it could more easily kill.

But tell that to the huge moccasin on her floorboard.

Trying not to make any sudden moves, Evangeline carefully eased her leather bag toward her on the seat. The car careened off the road and she tried to swing it back on the pavement. But the tires spun on the wet shoulder, and before Evangeline could gain control, the vehicle plunged down the steep embankment, bumping over the wild terrain at a terrifying speed before plowing through swamp water into a tree.

Evangeline had no idea where the snake was, whether it had coiled for a strike or slithered back under the seat. She didn’t take time to find out. Fighting off the deployed air bag, she tumbled out the door into ankle-deep water.

Her bag was still in the car and the last thing she wanted to do was reach back inside. But she needed her phone and her gun.