Fic: L'homme Vaudou (1/8)
CHAPTER ONE
“Hey Ackles! Get your ass over here!”
Jensen Ackles waved at the men who were playing basketball on one of the city courts. “What’s up, Mendoza?” He leaned on his cane as he waited for the other man to jog over to him. “How’s the family?”
“Good, good.” Carlos Mendoza bounced the basketball he was holding, then tossed it to the other players so they could continue their game. “The baby is growing like a weed. You need to come and visit. Sophia was asking about you.”
“Tell her I said hi.” Jensen recalled Mendoza’s wife, Sophia; always smiling and ready with a cup of coffee whenever they’d been working late at the precinct.
“How’ve you been?” Mendoza asked, clapping Jensen on the shoulder. “Retirement looks good on you. You don’t have that indoor tan like you used to have.”
Jensen chuckled, thinking of all the years he’d spent under the fluorescent lights of the squad room. “It’s been good, I guess. The private investigation business has picked up, which is good for my wallet’”
“Glad to hear.” Mendoza wiped his face with a small towel he had tucked into his shorts. “When are you gonna stop by the precinct? The guys miss you.”
“I don’t know…kind of busy. Work and all.” Jensen rubbed the back of his neck, feeling bad for yet another declination. That was his excuse for most of the invitations from his old partner. Ever since he’d been shot and had to take early retirement, Jensen felt uncomfortable with his old coworkers. Their sympathies felt like pity, and there was no way Jensen was going to subject himself to that. It was bad enough that his friends and the therapist that he was required to go see had that look. He didn’t need it from his former buddies. Besides, with his private investigation business he was starting a new chapter of his life.
When he’d retired, his sister, Mackenzie, kept nagging him to move down to New Orleans where she was attending grad school. She wanted him to be closer to her. He remembered their last phone call.
”C’mon, Jensen, please?” Mackenzie’s voice pleaded over the phone. “You’ll love living here. New Orleans is awesome.”
“I don’t know, Mac,” he’d replied. “I know New York. We grew up here. I like the tempo.” He’d sighed. “I guess I’m just comfortable. Moving to a new city and trying to establish a business all at once…not sure it’s for me.”
“You can do it. Jeff knows practically everyone in the city. He can open some doors for you. It won’t be hard for you to get a good business going. I can feel it.” He’d heard her laughing over the phone. “Plus, I’m here and so is Jeff. Please consider it?” She’d asked in a tone she knew Jensen couldn’t refuse.
“Damn it, Mac, don’t do that.” Jensen had chuckled, picturing her batting her eyelashes at him like she did when she was younger and wanted him to do something for her. The thought of living close to her and Jeff really wasn’t a bad idea, to be honest. Jeff had known their parents and had been a good friend of their father. Jensen and Mackenzie had grown up with his visits and it was his stories about New Orleans that made Mackenzie decide to go to Tulane in the first place. Jensen had felt comfortable with her going because Jeff agreed to be Mackenzie’s faculty advisor so he’d be keeping an eye on her. She’d been thrilled when Jeff had pulled strings to not only get her into the program, but then given her the coveted role as one of his teaching assistants--a position that was hotly fought over by all the graduate students in the department.
If he moved down to the Crescent City, Jensen could see Mac more often and hang out with Jeff. And who knows, maybe he’d be able to meet someone as well. It after all, had been a while since he’d been in any sort of relationship, temporary or otherwise.
“Please, Jen?” Mac had wheedled. “At least think about it.”
“Ok, ok, I’ll think about it.” He’d laughed. “But no promises. Tell you what. Let me wrap this case up and I’ll fly down to visit tp test the waters and see what the opportunities are.”
He’d pulled the phone away from his ear as she had squealed in happiness, wanting to preserve his eardrums. “Look, I gotta go. We’ll talk soon. Love you.” He’d hung up with a smile, wondering what it would be like to actually live in New Orleans.
“Ackles! You listening?” Mendoza knocked his arm. “I’ve been nagging at you for at least a minute.”
“Sorry, sorry. Just thinking.” Jensen grinned sheepishly.
“What’s so important that you didn’t hear me offer my Abuela’s cooking as an incentive to come visit?” Mendoza grinned back. “She’ll make those enchiladas you like. The ones with the special enchilada sauce.”
“Thinking about picking up stakes and moving down to New Orleans to be near Mac, actually,” Jensen confessed. “She’s been begging me to come down for a while.”
“Hell, son, that’s the best idea you’ve had since we raided the Chief’s stash of homemade moonshine in the back file cabinet.” Mendoza smacked his arm again. “You should go for it.”
Jensen was surprised at Mendoza’s opinion. “Seriously? You think so?”
Mendoza looked him straight in the eye. “Jensen, ever since you got shot on the job and they made you retire, you haven’t been happy. We all could tell. Even being a PI hasn’t been cutting it. You need to get out of New York and go somewhere that doesn’t have all the memories of being a cop in the Big Apple.” He smiled again. “So why not New Orleans? It’s a great city. Mac is there, and you’ve always said you liked it down there when you’ve gone to visit her. It’s not like you can’t set up a practice down there. It’s got crime same as here. Just with a Cajun flavor.”
Jensen threw back his head and laughed. “You know, you’re right. There’s nothing really left here. Mac’s there, my parents are gone. So I guess there’s nothing keeping me here.”
“Now that we’ve settled your midlife crisis, you’re coming over to the house for dinner tonight and you can tell my Abuela your plans, so she can feed you. She may even break out the good tequila.” Carlos laughed at Jensen’s expression of happiness.
“Ahh, I see. You just want me for your Abuela’s stash.” Jensen fell in step with Mendoza as they headed towards his brownstone.
“Damn right. Now let’s go eat.”
Jensen couldn’t think of anything better to do.
“Sabine, got a moment?” Jeffrey Dean Morgan buzzed his assistant. He leaned back as he waited for Sabine to enter his office. Taking off his reading glasses, he tossed them on his desk and rubbed his eyes. This last batch of essays from his undergrad Intro to Anthropology class was about to give him an aneurysm. He’d tried to get them done over the weekend, but it was too painful to read their pitiful attempts at research. He mentally cursed Wikipedia and Google for killing the concept of actual research.
Looking at the papers spread across his desk, and had to chuckle. His colleagues gave him hell about him grading his own assignments; that’s what they had teaching assistants for. They all took advantage of their teaching assistants to do all the scut work that was prevalent in the hallowed halls of academia. Jeffrey felt that if he didn’t grade at least a third of his assignments himself, he wouldn’t get a feel for his students. But this semester’s undergrad class was making him rethink that option. They just didn’t seem to be understanding the material. Sighing, he closed his eyes, feeling a headache coming on.
“That bad, huh?” Sabine came in and perched on one of the chairs by the leaded glass window. Her black hair was swept up in a neat bun and the red suit she was wearing complimented her dark skin. Jeff chuckled, she always seemed to know when he was grading the Intro class papers.
Jeff didn’t open his eyes. “You have no idea. I’m half tempted to fail them all just on this one assignment.”
Sabine chuckled. “Why don’t you?”
He stretched to loosen the knot in his shoulder. “Because there are a few who actually did a decent job and need the grade.”
“You could always reassign the project and spell the ones who passed to think they’re turning it in for the first time…” She replied cheekily.
Jeff cracked an eye open and glared at her. “Sabine…” he chided.
“Kidding.” She grinned at him. “But wouldn’t it be great if you could really do that?”
“It would be tempting,” he replied back with a small smile, finishing their little byplay.
“Yup.” She flipped the top page of the notebook she had brought in. “So what did you need me for?”
Jeff sat up and put his reading glasses on. “I need to clear a bit of space on my calendar. Can we rearrange some meetings?”
“Sure. What are you looking to move?” Sabine juggled the notepad and Jeff’s paper calendar.
“I need about two hours carved out on Thursday afternoon and everything moved on Friday before lunch.”
“Let’s see what we can do.” Jeff watched as she looked over those two days and made notes. “Okay, you have a TA meeting on Thursday, but I can cancel that. You know they’ll be thrilled.”
Laughing, Jeff nodded. “Yeah, they love me, just not during meetings. What about Friday?”
“Status meetings with David Osborne and Morgan Kemp. Oh, and Mackenzie Ackles.” She met his eyes with some concern. “I can email them to reschedule.”
“Do that with David and Morgan - Mackenzie missed last week’s meeting and I haven’t had a chance to call her, so I’ll take care of that.”
He smiled at the thought of the blonde haired girl and Jensen her brother. It had been a while since he’d heard from Jensen as well, and he made a mental note to call or text him this evening.
“Perfect. I’ll send out the changes.” She stood and headed to the door. Jeff followed her out and leaned on the wall as she sat in front of her computer.
“Great, finish that and let’s sneak out of here and get a drink at Sazerac’s. Lisa promised me gumbo tonight,” Jeff said, grabbing his leather coat and biker’s gloves.
“Ohh, yummy. I’ll call the hubs and have him meet us. Maybe he’ll let you try and beat him at pool again.” She quickly sent out the emails, closed down her compute, and gathered up her purse and coat.
“Hey now,” Jeff said, shrugging into his coat. “That was a fluke, him beating me.”
“Uh huh.” Sabine eyed him. “Fluke?”
“Fine. He wiped the table with me. I suck at pool.” Jeff let Sabine go in front of him and locked the office door behind them.
“That you do, professor. That you do.”
“I’m wounded.” Jeff put his hand to his chest. “Just for that you get to buy the first round.”
Her laughter echoed down the hall as they headed out of the building.
Jensen unlocked the door to his apartment, tossing his keys into the green ceramic bowl by the door as he entered. Taking his jacket off, he hung it up on the antique coat bench in the corner and kicked his shoes off. He padded to the kitchen and rummaged for one of the craft beers he kept stocked in his refrigerator, popped the top off and took a swig,
Dinner at Mendoza’s house had actually been pleasant, he thought as he sat down on the couch and grabbed the remote. Carlos was so proud to show off his daughter Isabella’s wobbly step, and of course the food had been amazing. Sophia’s enchiladas were out of this world and Jensen stuffed himself. Jensen smiled as he recalled Carlos’ Abuela hugging him and then smacking his arm as she scolded him for being a stranger to their house.
After dinner, they’d settled in the living room and sipped the tequila that was promised while Jensen and Carlos swapped stories and caught up. By the time it was time to go, Jensen was slightly tipsy, so an Uber was in order.
He probably shouldn’t have opened the beer, but listening to Carlos talk about what was going on at the precinct made him miss being a cop.The stories about catching the perps, the camaraderie; hell, he even missed the bad coffie. Jensen sighed, knowing that there was no way he’d ever be able to be back on the street patrol, or even detective work. He could ride a desk--he’d been offered that after he got out of the hospital - but that was like telling a racehorse he had to pull a cart. He’d wither away if he had accepted it.
Finding a replay of the Yankees game on ESPN, Jensen turned the volume down and decided to call Jeff. Jensen looked at the clock, and while it was late, he knew that Jess was more of a night owl. As he listened to the phone ring, Jensen mused again over Mackenzie’s request for her to move to New Orleans.
The key would be to find clients as soon as possible and get his private investigation business off the ground. Jensen had substantial savings; being single and not much of a wild spender, the only money he really expended was for Mac’s education. It would give him a cushion to live on for a bit while he built up the business. So, an office location, advertising, and a place to live would be first on the agenda. His motorcycle would do for regular transportation, but he might eventually need a car.
His thoughts were interrupted when Jeff answered the phone. ”Jensen… How are you, brother?” Jeff sounded pleased to hear from him.
“Pretty good. Just got home from dinner.” Jensen couldn’t help but smile at Jeff’s tone. He took a sip of beer. “Having a beer and chilling. How about you?”
“Good good. Just got home from dinner myself. Had a big bowl of Lisa’s gumbo.” Jeff chuckled. “Excellent as always.”
“Don’t tease me, asshole.” Jensen said with mock annoyance. “You know how much I like her food.”
“Sorry.” Jeff replied, but by the snark in his voice Jensen could tell he was not sorry at all.
“It’s ok. I had the best enchiladas this side of Mexico.” Jensen put his feet up on his coffee table. “So what’s going on down in N”Awlins? You keeping my baby sister out of trouble?”
“As much as she’ll let me.” Jensen heard the rustling of papers. “You know, the usual. Pulling my hair out grading essays, trying to figure why my students think they can pass off Wikipedia as a real resource when they turn in their papers. That sort of thing. What about you? How’s the Big Apple?”
“Frankly kind of boring,” Jensen confessed. “Work is ok, but not as fun as being a cop. I’ve spent the last two weeks looking for missing heirs which is not as exciting as it might sound.”
“Sounds like you need a change of venue.” Jeff said.
“Funny you should mention that,” Jensen replied. “Mac has been trying to convince me to move down there, and I’m seriously thinking about taking her up on it.”
“Well it’s about time, son!” Jeff’s voice was gleeful. “She and I have been talking about now to get your ass down here permanently.”
Jensen laughed. “Good to know you two are conspiring against me.”
“Not against you - for you.” Jensen heard Jeff chuckle. “What do you need from me?”
“Not sure yet,” Jensen said. “I need to check out the competition and look at the prices of real estate for business and living. Oh yeah, licensing and stuff like that.”
“Well, son. That’s what teaching assistants are for.” Jeff replied with a pseudo evil chuckle. “You send me a list of stuff and I’ll get them started on it.”
“Um…isn’t that taking advantage?” Jensen asked.
“Hell no! It’s one of the perks of having TAs.” Jeff replied with another laugh. “They’ll be happy they don’t need to get my dry cleaning!”
“Jesus, Jeff, you send them to pick up your dry cleaning?” Jensen asked.
Jeff replied “I’ll never tell.” Jensen heard Jeff’s phone beep. “Listen, I gotta go take this call. Send me that info and let me know when you’re headed down this way. Later, dude.”
“Later.” Jensen smiled as he hung up. He was grateful to have a friend like Jeff. He was happy that Jeff was there to keep an eye on Mackenzie. Finishing his beer, he decided to give her a call. He threw the empty bottle in the recycle bin as he heard her message kick in.
You’ve reached Mackenzie Ackles. I can’t come to the phone right now so leave a message after the beep. Oh and if this is Jensen, I’m at the library, not out partying, I swear. Muahahahah!
He chuckled as he waited for the beep to sound. “Hey Mac, it’s me. When you get home from the ‘library’,” he emphasized the word, “give me a call. Thinking of heading down there for a bit and want to know your schedule. Love you, sis.”
Jensen began shutting down his apartment for the night; turning off lights and making sure the door and windows were locked tight. He was actually getting excited at the possibility of relocating to New Orleans. Maybe it was time to make a move.
Mackenzie woke up in darkness. The room was cold and damp and she could smell what seemed to be mold. Confused and dizzy, her head pounding, she reached out to feel for a lamp and found she was on the floor, what felt like a bare mattress under her. Shivering, she realized she was naked.
“Hello?” Her throat was dry and her voice was scratchy. “Hello?” There was no answer. “Is there anyone there?”
Slowly she groped around the area where the mattress was and her hand touched something solid. She pulled it to her, running her hands over it to determine it was a small camping lantern. Finding the switch, she turned it on, it’s low glow barely casting any illumination in the pitch dark. Holding the lantern up, she inspected the room, if it could be called that. Her closet in her apartment was bigger. Dark grey painted walls, a deep brown wood floor - nothing that gave any indication as to where she was. The only things she found in the space was a threadbare plaid blanket, a cardboard liquor box, and a five gallon plastic bucket.
Wrapping the blanket around herself, Mackenzie crawled over to the box. Opening it, she found bottles of water and some food; mostly granola bars, trail mix and dried fruit. Nothing that could spoil. Grabbing the bucket, she checked inside to find several rolls of cheap toilet paper.
“Great,” she muttered, shoving it away from her. “At least I have a bathroom.”
She rummaged back in the box and took out a granola bar and a bottle of water. She was thirsty and slightly hungry, but mostly cold. Scooting back onto the mattress, she checked to see that the granola bar wrapper and the bottle of water hadn’t been tampered with. She didn’t want to eat it if by chance it had been drugged. She opened the bottle, ripped off the wrapper, took a bite and a sip. As she ate, she tried to determine how she had wound up here.
She had no idea what time it was because she usually checked her cell phone for that and of course it was missing. The last thing she remembered was going out for drinks with some of the professors and teaching assistants from the Anthropology department. They had gone to Sazerac’s, the usual department hangout. Mackenzie liked because the atmosphere was cozy--lots of overstuffed furniture and table groupings if you didn't want to sit at the bar--and the drinks were reasonable.
Mike, one of the TAs, and Professor Padalecki had decided that a game of Truth or Dare with vodka shots was a good idea, and before long they’d all been pretty tipsy. Professor Padalecki - he told her to call him Jared - had kept flirting with her and even bought her a Sazerac, the official drink of New Orleans made with Absinthe, rye whiskey and cognac. He claimed that she wasn’t a true native of New Orleans until she’d had one. It was delicious and she downed it pretty quickly. Which led to another and then a trip to the bathroom.
Shit.. She remembered now asking her friend Angie to watch her drink, but when she’d returned to the table, Angie had been off dancing with Scott and her drink had been unattended. Mackenzie had been too tipsy to even consider getting a new drink so she drank the one in front of her.
Mackenzie rubbed her temples, trying to ease her headache and remember what had happened next. She thought she’d had another drink afer all, but she couldn’t be sure. The images popping up were blurry and confusing. Lots of laughter, maybe some singing, and Jared sitting really close to her. It felt cosy and she could remember drifting off for a moment. Trying to remember was making her head hurt even more, and she drank some more water, hoping it would ease the ache. She recalled feeling nauseous, then there’d been a car ride. Did she arrive at her apartment?.. There was the rumble of a deep voice soothing her and a set of familiar eyes--hazel, she thought--looking into hers. Familiar like she should know who they belonged to, then...nothing.
Oh God… she realized. Jared had hazel eyes.
CouldJared have abducted her?. But that felt wrong. Mackenzie dismissed that thought immediately. There was no way that Jared could have done that. He was too sweet. Everything she knew about him, of him ruled that out. She kept fishing through the unfocused images from earlier. A clear picture of Jared looming over her as she lay on her couch burst into her vision. She gasped in horror. Was it possible it really was him after all?
Mackenzie scrambled to her feet and began searching for a door or some other kind of opening. Pounding on the walls, he screamed, “Jared! Let me out, you fucker! Come on, you son of a bitch” Her fists became bruised and bloody on the rough wood of the door, her voice hoarse as she screamed, and she sank to the floor and started to cry.
Her stomach started to ache as she began to panic. Curling up under the blanket, she felt hopeless. Everyone was going to be looking for her. Jensen would be out of his mind with worry. She wished she’d had one more chance to talk to him. She started to cry harder and soon fell into unconsciousness from exhaustion.
You’ve reached Mackenzie Ackles. I can’t come to the phone right now so leave a message after the beep. Oh and if this is Jensen, I’m at the library, not out partying, I swear. Muahahahah!
Jensen thumbed the phone off in frustration as he let himself into his apartment. He’d been calling Mackenzie repeatedly for the last day and a half without success and he was getting worried. One thing he could count on was their keeping in touch with one another. Especially since their parents had passed away and they only had each other. Something wasn’t right.
Kicking off his shoes and hanging up his jacket, he called her again, waited for the beep, and left another message. “Mac, this is ridiculous. Call me.”
He headed to the kitchen and took a pizza out of the fridge and turned the oven on to warm up. Grabbing a beer, he pulled up the location app for Mackenzie’s phone, cursing when he saw that it was turned off. “Damn it, Mac.” He dashed off a swift text--CALL ME!.
Maybe she’d met a guy? Possible, but that wouldn’t cause her to turn off her location, he mused. They’d agreed not to do that so that they could keep track of each other. Ever since their parents had died it was an unspoken agreement.
The oven dinged and he unwrapped the pizza and put it in, setting the timer. Taking a swig of his beer, he dialed Jeff’s number.
Waiting for the phone to connect, Jensen sat down at the kitchen table and flipped through the day’s mail. Most of it was bills and advertisements for the local car dealerships. He tossed it into his recycling tub.
”Hey there. I feel special. Two calls in two days.” Jensen heard the smile in Jeff’s voice. “How’d I get so lucky?”
“Luck has nothing to do with it.” Jensen said. “I’m actually looking for Mac. She’s not answering her phone or texts. Have you talked to her lately?”
”No, and, come to think of it, she missed her TA class. Hang on…. Jeff trailed off and Jensen could hear him shuffling papers. ”I just looked through my messages and she hasn’t called.”
“Damn it.” Jensen cursed, finishing his beer.
”Any chance she met up with someone and is out of cell range?” Jeff asked. ”I can ask around to see if she’s taken an interest in anyone. Or vice versa.”
“That would be great.” Jensen blew a sigh of relief. At least Jeff was down there and could check on Mac for him. “I’d really appreciate it. Let me know what you find out.”
”Will do.” Jeff paused. ”I’m sure she’s fine, Jensen. Maybe she just lost her phone or something.”
“I hope so. Thanks Jeff.” Jensen hung up and ran his hands through his hair. Calm down. She’s fine. Probably lost her phone like Jeff said.. He had to chuckle. It wouldn’t have been the first time. In high school, Mackenzie went through phones like other people went through paper towels. She either lost them or broke them or - in one infamous event - managed to flush one down the toilet. How she managed that one he still couldn’t figure out.
The pizza timer dinged, shaking him from his thoughts. Grabbing a potholder, he took the pizza out of the oven, cut it and put several pieces on a plate. He opened the fridge and took out another beer and headed to the living room to eat his dinner and watch the latest baseball game.
Chasing after the missing heirs took up the next several days. Between that and a busted pipe in his apartment, Jensen was only able to leave quick messages for Jeff and Mackenzie. He was getting increasingly worriedabout both of them.
Once Mr. Peterson, the Super, left after fixing the plumbing, Jensen tried to call them both again, but again he only got voice mails for what felt like the thousandth time.
Jensen made himself take a breath when the delivery guy from the deli around the corner brought his turkey and cheese on rye with chips, a pickle and green tea. Firing up his computer he checked his emails, hoping that Mackenzie sent him a message, but there was nothing. Jensen quickly cleared out his inbox, returning the most important emails and saving the ones that could wait until later.
Right before he was about to close out of Outlook, an email popped up from the local news outlet from New Orleans that he followed. He caught his breath, paling as he read the headline.
University Professor Missing. Police Suspect Foul Play
There was a picture of Jeff’s smiling face. “What the…”. Jensen clicked on the link and quickly read the story.
Jeffrey Dean Morgan, Professor of Anthropology at Tulane University, is feared missing after he failed to show up for scheduled classes yesterday. Law Enforcement Officials have determined that there was a break-in at his place of residence, but Professor Morgan was not found. This is an ongoing investigation. If anyone has any information leading to the whereabouts of Professor Morgan, please contact our tip hotline at (504) 555-1232.
Jensen sat back in shock. Jeff missing, Mackenzie not answering his calls - something really was going on and it didn’t look good. He called up his saved travel tab to see the earliest flights to New Orleans. The next available flight was out of LaGuardia, but only had first class. He booked a one way ticket then headed quickly to his bedroom to pack a bag.
Shoving the essentials into a duffel bag, Jensen unloaded his Colt, put it in a travel lockbox and placed it on top of his clothes. After calling a cab, he set his outgoing message to indicate a family emergency and texted his housekeeper to come Friday instead of Wednesday.
Grabbing his cane, He locked up his apartment and headed downstairs to wait for his cab. He’d wanted to go to New Orleans to see what it would take to start a new chapter in his life, but this was not the way he’d envisioned it. He took a deep breath and quickly crossed himself, hoping he wasn’t too late.
On to Chapter 2