The Isle of Sin and Shadows

by Keri Lake

My business partner, if I can even call him that, is the only person this side of the border that has a direct link with the Matamoros cartel out of Mexico, for whom I launder large sums of cash. If I don’t deliver? My body will be buried in a deep pit on some remote Mexican ranch, never to be seen again.

when I told Tammy I planned to bury him quietly in the cabin’s backwoods, her eyes went wide with horror, and she arranged this whole set up herself.

Dear Cely, You know I’m not good at words, so I’ll keep this short and sweet. First thing, I know we’ve had our differences, but I want you to know, raising you was never a burden. Was nice having you around, keeping me in line. Second thing is, the world’s a big place. And life is too short to get hung up on the past. Live. Fall in love. But don’t ever let some ungrateful prick put out your fire. You find someone

that burns with you. For you. You’re aces, kid. Always remember that. Have fun. But not too much, right? Always, Russ.

On the wall across from me is a corkboard covered in missing persons. So many of them, they’re hanging off the edges and dangling by pushpins. All women. The most recent date, from what I can see, is just three days ago, and I study the picture of the woman, about my age, with mid-length brown hair and dark eyes. A bright smile stares back at me that morphs into a terrified scream echoing inside my head, as I imagine her horrific end. I clamp my eyes on a gasp to shut it up and tune it out. Happens sometimes, when I look at people. I don’t even know who the screams belong to, but they’re so real and vivid. So loud inside my head that it pounds against my skull like a drum.

Also from my reading, I learned that the house was thought to be haunted, even before what happened when I lived here, based on a massacre that took place in the late 1800s, when a white paramilitary group attacked African plantation workers after tensions rose. Hundreds were murdered, some of whom hid on the grounds of this plantation, only to be hunted down and slaughtered.

“What movie do you plan to watch?” He doesn’t look up at me once as he asks me questions and scribbles something onto the pages below his nose. “Just a … kids’ movie. Rated PG.” Guilt winds inside my stomach as the lie tumbles from my lips. In truth, Brie’s older sister is coming with us, to buy the tickets for an R-rated horror movie my best friend somehow talked me into. One where a family is terrorized by a mask-wearing group that hunts them while vacationing at their weekend estate. Thankfully, he still doesn’t look up at me, because I can’t bring myself to lie to my daddy’s face. Instead, he reaches into his back pocket and draws out his wallet, offering up a twenty-dollar bill. When I reach out to grab it, he snaps the cash back, and his eyes finally meet mine. “You got the pepper spray?”

With a nod, I tug the small bottle from my pocket and hold it up for him to see. My father insists that I carry it everywhere, even if I think it’s the dumbest thing ever. I hate the way it bulges out of my pants. “Good. No talkin’ to any strangers, hear? No one. No one knows who you are, or where you live. Clear?” “I promise.”

“I want to give you the freedoms of a normal childhood, Cely, but you must be careful.”

“They did a nice job on your hair, Frannie. C’est jolie.” It’s pretty. I speak to her in both English and Valir, in case a word or phrase triggers something with her. “The

I remember hearing about her grandmother’s death. Was all over the papers for a while, part of a murder case that swept through the parish. The Magnolia Lane Murder, they called it. She apparently worked in some capacity for a well-to-do shrink. Maybe a housekeeper, or secretary.

I can’t remember the exact job. From what little I recall, some cult broke into the old Charpentier House, where the shrink lived, and supposedly brutalized him. Authorities found blood spattered everywhere, along with what remained of his body, after a few of his organs had been removed. When Brie’s grandmother showed up for work the next morning, the members were still there and attacked her, as well. Footage of a young girl was seen on security cameras, too, but search parties never found any trace of her.

“Your sister … she’s a …. She’s ...” Brie is a stripper? Nothing against them. Hell, I’ve been tempted by the cash myself in recent months. About a year ago, I tried to do the webcam thing, just to see if I had the nerve, but chickened out the moment I saw a dick pop up on the screen.

For the hour that followed, I paced back and forth, paranoid that Russ would swipe up my phone, and some random cock would pop up out of nowhere from a screen I failed to shut out and slap his eyeballs out of his skull.

“Wait, wait, wait. You’re …” Leaving your son with a complete stranger at the back door of a strip club? “What if he cries?” “He won’t. He likes you. He’s got a … sense about people.” I do, too, and I’m not liking what it’s telling me right now.