The Lies We Bury

by Stacy Green

  He did as she asked and sent the text. Hopefully no one eavesdropped at the door and Bonin kept the camera to herself.

  Lyric sat down in the same chair Annabeth had occupied days ago. “I know Annabeth’s gone again.”

  “How’d you find out?”

  Lyric’s face briefly softened. “I stopped by to see Miss Alexandrine again this morning. She answered the door this time. She looks exactly the same. She told me about Annabeth.”

  “Last night, before you knocked her out, you made it clear to Annabeth that trusting me wasn’t an option. You wanted nothing to do with legal justice.” Cage might have to walk a tight rope with this woman, but he wasn’t going to pretend she hadn’t assaulted Annabeth or that he believed she was truly here out of the goodness of her heart.

  “I still don’t,” Lyric said. “Laws never did anything for my mother or me. But Miss Alexandrine took care of my gran, and the old lady’s even more persuasive than I remembered. She says you’re a good man trying to do the right thing.”

  “I am,” Cage said. “Right now, I don’t care what you’ve done to survive, and I’m willing to overlook your attack on her last night. Catching Billy and bringing Annabeth home are all that matters.” For now, at least. He and Bonin couldn’t pretend they hadn’t watched the video of Lyric slitting Mickie’s throat.

  “She told me you guys figured out who he was.” Lyric didn’t seem surprised or impressed. “Do you know where to look for him?”

  “I’m hoping you’re here with that information.”

  “How do you know I’m not trying to protect him? You know about Sheila. You know what I’ve done, that I stayed with him.” Lyric leaned forward, the thin, white scar through her lips matching the dark gleam in her eyes. “Why trust me?”

  “I know enough about kidnap victims and trauma to understand why you didn’t escape. I’m hoping your time away from him has helped break some of those ties. But I don’t completely trust you.”

  “I’m all you’ve got right now.”

  “Pretty much.”

  “I appreciate the honesty.” Lyric sat back and rested her clasped hands over the table. More faded scars marked her wrists and hands, including what appeared to be a branded ‘B’ on the inside of her left wrist. “Yes, he branded me with his initial. The other scars are from trying to get free when he first took me.”

  Sick bastard. Cage had to find Annabeth before the same thing happened to her. Billy didn’t intend to kill her, at least not for a while. She was unfinished business for him.

  “You know Alexandrine really believes all that about the spirits and her magic,” Lyric said. “In her mind, she’s witnessed a thousand things that validate that faith. Gran was the same way. My mom, she might’ve been, but she liked drugs more.”

  “And what about you?”

  “I stopped believing in anything a long time ago,” Lyric said, “and ninety-nine percent of me still doesn’t believe.”

  “And the other one percent?”

  Lyric pulled part of a faded card from her pocket. “This was my mom’s half of the Ezili Dantò card. When I was a kid, she’d take off for nights at a time and leave me with Gran. She said she had to work, but even then, I knew she was doing what she had to do to get her drugs and put a little food on the table. You know who this spirit represents?”

  Cage nodded. “I’ve had a crash course in Voodoo the past few days.”

  Lyric snickered. “Have they made you a believer?”

  “Not just yet.”

  “Keep it that way,” she said. “Anyway, my mom tore the card in half. She said the card was blessed with a spell that would allow me to see her when I needed her most.”

  Lyric stared at the card, her eyes blazing with hate. “I never saw a damn thing, of course. My mom and Gran said it was because I didn’t have enough faith. That’s the key element in Voodoo—faith at all times so your mind tricks you into seeing results. You have to believe in order to see.”

  “I’d argue that’s pretty much the same across all religions.”

  “Fair point,” Lyric said. “Mom had this card in her pocket when they found her. You’ve heard what happened?”

  “Your mom caught Billy watching you in the shower and let him have it.”

  “I took off and made my way to Gran’s. She kept calling Mom, but we knew they were fighting. Gran called the police the next morning. Mom was already dead by then.” Lyric traced the ripped edges of the card. “The thing is, I’d been using my half of the card all night trying to see what happened to her. When I found out she had the card in her pocket, I got so angry.”

  “Why?”

  “Because if she really believed in all the spells and crap she and Gran tried to push on me, she’d have used that card. At least that’s what I thought as I kid. I stopped trying to believe in any magic and put my half of the card away. I kept her half as a reminder of how foolish I’d been.”

  “Annabeth told you what happened the night she picked up the other half of the card?” Cage asked.

  “She insists her vision looked like I do now, scarred lips and all. Her mind just filled in those blanks when she saw me.”

  “That’s what I told her, but she wanted nothing to do with that explanation. Even when the pathologist told us the second body buried with Mickie’s was an adult female, Annabeth refused to consider it might be you. She believed in her vision.”

  “The decoy,” Lyric said. “I didn’t know it wasn’t her.”

  “I know,” Cage said. “If you don’t believe in any of this, then why bring up the card? Why are you here?” He felt for Lyric, but he still didn’t trust her.

  “You think Annabeth’s a liability to me,” Lyric said. “That if she gets her memory back, she’ll be able to incriminate me. But if I’ve come to get rid of her, why didn’t I just kill her last night?”

  Telling her about the video would take the power of Annabeth’s memory away. Was Lyric trying to negotiate?

  Screw it. Might as well go all in and pray he didn’t regret. “Annabeth’s memory isn’t your only problem. Billy sent the video of you killing Mickie to his cousin.”

  He’d thrown her with that one. Her tough veneer dissolved, her face paled. “I didn’t have a choice.”

  “I believe you,” Cage said. “But there’s no audio, so ultimately, it comes down to your word against the video. A jury could go either way on that. If you had a damned good defense attorney, you might walk. But there’s no guarantee.”

  Lyric recovered some of her composure. “If I’m so concerned about Annabeth getting me in trouble, then why am I here to help you?”

  “Is that why you’re here?” Cage asked. “Or are you here to negotiate? Your freedom against Annabeth’s location?”

  “I’d argue those are essentially the same things.” She smirked, turning his earlier comment around.

  “They might be, if your information is solid enough.”

  “I read the paper,” she said. “You’re not really a cop right now, are you? That means you can’t offer me any deal.”

  “Correct. You’d have to take that up with Detective Bonin. Want me to call her in?”

  Lyric banded her arms across her chest, her scarred lips curled. “I’m not worried about a fucking deal. I want to help Annabeth because she doesn’t deserve this shit. If that means I go to prison, then fine. At least I’ll know where my next meal’s coming from.”

  Cage waited.

  “You couldn’t find Bill Pietry on the grid, right? No William, Billy, whatever. He’s too smart for that.”

  “My guess is he’s living with his new girlfriend and keeping everything in her name.” Time to gauge Lyric’s loyalty. “She the same one he left you for?”

  “Leaving me isn’t the right term,” she said. “I never wanted to be with him. He forced me to rely on him for everything. But yeah, it’s the same bitch. He’ll stick with her to the end.”

  “Even when she gets too old, like you?”


  Lyric rolled her eyes. “First off, it’s not nice to say a girl is old. And secondly, stop trying to rile me up. I’m not jealous. I fucking hate him, and I hate her more, but I’m not jealous.”

  “Why hate her if it’s not about her replacing you?”

  Lyric pointed to her scarred lips. “Because she did this to me.”

  “He broke her just like he did you,” Cage said. “Until she did whatever it took to survive.”

  Lyric’s bitter laugh set his nerves on edge. “He didn’t need to break her. That bitch was willing from the start.”

  59

  Her crazy eyes scare the shit out of me. She licks her lips like she can’t wait to get started with whatever they have planned for me.

  He obsessed over the ones who got away.

  She stuck the gun against my ribs and licked my ear. “Let’s go, sweetheart.”

  My guts knot in fear. I’d rather die than go with her. No chance of forgetting any of the abuse this time.

  “I’ll kill the old lady. Nice and slow too. You can watch.”

  Tears pop in my eyes. I can’t let Miss Alexandrine die for me.

  She walks me through the narrow alley and out the gate. I expect a camper or the blue pickup, but she opens the passenger door of a sweet Mercedes. Guess Billy’s terrorizing in style now.

  “Get in, bitch.”

  I obey, staring out the window at the house, silently begging the Loa to help.

  The woman gets in the driver’s seat, and I wait for the needle. She jams it into my neck, and I’m dizzy, my eyes crossing. My tongue is numb, and my fingers are tingling.

  I shake my head, trying to clear my vision. My forehead lands on the window. I blink, my eyelids heavy as a rock.

  “Lyric,” I whisper. “Help me.”

  The woman snorts like a pig. “She’s probably dead or whoring her way to her next fix. You’re all alone, baby.”

  60

  “What’s her name?” Cage asked.

  “Bitch. At least that’s what I call her.”

  “Please.” Cage gestured to the camera. “While we’re talking, Detective Bonin can search the state and local databases. But we need a name.”

  Lyric drummed her fingertips on the table.

  “Every second you delay decreases our chances of finding Annabeth alive.”

  She gritted her teeth as if saying the name caused physical pain. “Cathy Chambers, from Louisiana. At least that’s what she always said. Bitch probably lied.”

  “Thank you. Did she resemble you, like all the others?”

  “Except for being fat and ugly, yeah. She’s mixed, and she’s got black hair. Kinky shit that she straightens.”

  “How old is she?”

  “Older than me, which is the real kicker. Early forties, I think.”

  “Tell me about her.”

  “I already did,” Lyric said. “She’s pure evil. He never told me how they met—just that fate brought them together. Ridiculous coming from his controlling ass. He brought her in and said we’d all work together. I decided right then to find the guts to leave. It didn’t take her long to make her mark. Literally.” Lyric closed her eyes. “He used to say my lips were his favorite feature. Then he lets her cut me so she can be the alpha female.”

  “He used that term?” Cage asked.

  “He acted like we’d been partners and suddenly some new chic had come to challenge me.”

  “He never used any other girls to lure victims?”

  “Only me,” she said. “After Annabeth escaped, he got organized. Started ‘holding out and saving up.’ His term, not mine. He only took a girl every two or three years and made do with me after he’d used her up. Once he finally picked a new girl, it was my job to bring her to him.”

  “In these downtimes,” Cage said, “he made do with you …”

  “Sometimes he put me in the stirrups like he did before I brought him the first girl. And he was just as brutal. Others, he just told me what he wanted, and I did it.” She looked down at the brand on her wrist. “Most days, I felt like I’d left my body, like I looked down and watched him rape me over and over. When the time came to get a new girl, I did everything he told me to. He could hurt someone else for a while.”

  “But when Cathy came along?” Cage asked.

  “Everything changed. First time he brought Cathy to his toy shed, they had a girl with them. Strapped her down, and Cathy started in on her. I went into the house and locked my door, but I could still hear her screams. I should’ve done something then, but I didn’t think anyone would believe me. And he held that tape of me killing that girl over my head.”

  “He didn’t have the camper anymore?” Cage asked. “Annabeth remembers a camper.”

  “He trashed that when she escaped,” Lyric said. “Listen, I’m not sure you’re getting this. Cathy is worse than him. That first girl they brought? She was Cathy’s stepdaughter. Her husband had died in some freak accident just a few months before, and Cathy had inherited a shit-ton of money. But she was saddled with a fourteen-year-old girl.”

  “Where was this?”

  “Nacogdoches, East Texas. Not far from the state line.”

  “I know where it’s at. The police didn’t suspect Cathy?” Even an unexperienced cop would question a husband’s death from a freak accident followed by a stepdaughter’s disappearance.

  “I only know what I overheard,” Lyric said. “She and Billy seemed to think they’d covered their tracks. Must have, because no one came looking for them before I left. And with Annabeth gone, I’m guessing they’re not in jail.”

  “You told Annabeth he made you leave,” Cage said. “Is that true?”

  “It’s a version of it. I didn’t feel like going into the whole thing, so I told her what she needed to know.”

  “Then you did escape?”

  “No,” she said. “I wanted to, but after so long … I couldn’t get the nerve. A few months later, Cathy made it easy for him. He went to work, and she packed up my shit and dumped me off at the truck stop. I couldn’t decide whether to thank her or hit her.”

  “Because you cared about Billy?”

  Lyric chewed her bottom lip, fighting for composure. “Attached is more like it, and I’m ashamed to say that. The shower wasn’t the first time he’d spied on me. I started developing that summer, earlier than some girls. And he used to watch me get undressed. I’d see him peeking through my bedroom door. I would have told my mother, but he always waited until she was passed out. One time, I confronted him. I had more balls at eleven than I did when he took me. I told him that if he didn’t stop, I’d have my gran curse him good. That’s when he said we belonged together. I was made for him, and one day, it would happen. I just needed to get a little older.”

  An eleven-year-old child, and probably not the first one he’d victimized. “Where did Billy work?” If he had a trade, something Cage could track …

  “Odd jobs, always for cash. Lots of carpentry stuff. And he loved scavenging for old shit he could fix up and sell. Never online, though. Always at some crappy local flea market.”

  Smart sonofabitch. “The day he kidnapped you, did he force you to get into the truck after you left Rouse’s, or did he use the storm to entice you?”

  “No hurricane would have made me get into a vehicle with him.” Lyric spit the words. “He pulled a gun on me and threatened to take me home and kill Gran. That was enough.”

  “Did he have the camper set up by then?”

  “Ready and waiting,” she said. “I’m not sure if I was the first, but I was the goal. The practice run, until he needed fresh meat. I know you’re wondering why I didn’t take off. I had multiple chances after a few years.” She lowered her eyes, staring at the table. “You can’t possibly understand the mind games. He raped me, burned me, beat me. Told me I belonged to him and no one would want me now, anyway. But then he’d bring me water or ice cream. Or let me take a shower. He bought books for me to read—textbooks, so I could halfway
keep up with high school. He even studied with me. And then he’d strap me to the table and start over.”

  “He manipulated you,” Cage said. “These people are skilled at tearing you down to nothing and then making you completely reliant on them. You’re certainly not the first one to stay.”

  Lyric’s face tightened, the scar across her mouth white. Seeing her fighting off tears struck Cage harder than anything she’d told him.

  “You may not believe it,” she said, “but I never considered hurting Annabeth when I found out she was alive. He took me to one of her track meets, right before he kidnapped her. She just took off like she was flying. I knew then she was my only hope.”

  Cage shouldn’t have been surprised, but the wind had been knocked out of him. That meet had been a state qualifying meet, and Annabeth had been expected to break records. Most of Roselea came to watch, including Cage.

  “When I heard she was alive, I broke down and cried. Talked to God for the first time in years. And then I realized what I needed to do. I lost my cool with her last night, and I’m sorry. I’d just convinced myself that she would agree, and I had this fantasy of finding them and killing them both, to bring us closure. I realized this morning, before I went to Alexandrine’s, that killing him would destroy Annabeth. She’s still special, and better. I guess that’s why I’m here.”

  Cage’s phone dinged with a text from Bonin. A picture of a dark-haired, round-faced woman popped up. His already tight chest took another sucker punch. He recognized this woman from somewhere.

  He turned the phone and showed Lyric the picture.

  “That’s her. She doesn’t look that good in real life. Hard drugs do that to a person.”

  He confirmed the identity to Bonin, his pulse racing.

  Bonin’s quick reply: OUTSIDE NOW.

  “Would you excuse me one second?”

  “Whatever.”

  Bonin prowled outside the door. “Cathy Chambers, forty-five, owns a house a few miles south of Shreveport. That picture’s from a recent driver’s license.”