by Stacy Green
Cage refused to let the women out of his sight. He didn’t trust them, and he didn’t believe their story. Lyric had world-class deception skills, but Annabeth and Sheila didn’t. As soon as Lyric started telling the story, Annabeth stopped looking at him, watching the bugs get zapped. Sheila talked too fast, nodding her head like she was mentally checking off plot points.
Each woman gave her statement separately, to different deputies. Cage sat in with Annabeth, and she refused to make eye contact with him. When the deputy finished, she bolted for the bathroom.
With their statements finished, Sheriff’s deputies directed the women to a large breakroom with a couple of couches. Annabeth whined about going home, but Cage put his foot down. They weren’t going anywhere until Bonin returned. Annabeth flipped him off and flopped face first onto one of the sofas. Sheila did the same, and both fell asleep in minutes, leaving only Cage and Lyric in uncomfortable chairs.
Black hair in a loose knot, sweat stains on her tank top, and circles beneath her eyes, Lyric appeared years older than she had this morning. Her steely resolve remained. “Are you going to charge me?”
“I’m off the clock.” Cage shrugged, folding his hands in his lap. “That’s up to Bonin.”
“Freaking girl.” Lyric glanced at Annabeth snoring softly on the sofa. “She should have let me pull that trigger.”
“You need each other,” Cage said. “Although you need her more.”
Lyric half-smiled, her head lolling back against the chair. “I don’t need anyone. Besides, I’ll be happy to have a cell and three square meals. Being on my own the past four years has sucked.”
Cage had been running various scenarios in his head, and only one made sense. “You and Billy stayed in touch, he sent you money. Hooked you up with a car in his girlfriend’s name.”
Her eyelids drooped. “He didn’t have the balls to stand up to Cathy when she dumped me off, thank God. I hid for like three weeks, thinking he would show up to haul me back and trying to figure out what the hell to do next. I didn’t want to go back, but where else would I go?”
“Did he find you?”
“Nope, but he called. I had one of those pay-as-you-go phones back then, and only he had my number. He told me to stay gone, that he had Cathy now.” She banded her arms over her waist and shuddered. “I wish you could understand how screwed up I was. I’d spent eight years living in hell with him. He didn’t just let me roam free. Ever. He lurked in the background when he sent me to bring in girls. The rest of the time, he locked me in my bedroom. I got a little more freedom when Cathy came along, but not much.”
“You went to Annabeth’s track meet,” Cage said. “I was there. Other cops were there, in uniform. All you had to do was speak up.”
“I wanted to.” Her face hardened. “But I told you why I didn’t. And you said you understood.”
“As much as I can,” Cage said. “It’s just impossible to put myself in your shoes, especially when you’ve lied so much to me.”
“Not really,” Lyric said. “I lied to you about Cathy’s last name. Everything else is the truth. And I gave you enough information to put it all together.”
“Don’t bullshit me,” Cage said. “Annabeth and Sheila aren’t accomplished liars like you. What really happened to Billy Pietry?”
She stared back at him, unfazed. “If I cooperate and tell you the names of the girls he took up after Jasper, do you think the courts will go easier on me?”
“You know their names?”
“Someone had to give them a proper goodbye.” She glared at the wall just long enough to grab her composure.
“That’s why you put the coneflower seeds down.”
“And as a marker in case I ever got away,” Lyric said. “They were just beginning to grow when we left Jasper. He never had a clue. But I didn’t have anything to leave for the girls after. I can tell you where each one is buried.”
“Because he made you bury them?”
“Yep.”
“What about Mickie? Annabeth saw her in the grave.”
“He made her watch.” Lyric seemed to look past Cage, her eyes unfocused, caught up in her horrific memories.
“And what about the girls from the past four years?” Cage asked. “If he’s not found, those families have nothing.”
Her gaze snapped back to him, sharp and challenging. “Surely you don’t think he would have confessed? Billy thinks he’s smarter than everyone else—and he’s usually right. He plans and practices. And he’s always got at least three backup stories. He never goes for a girl until he knows her entire routine—and he got even more careful after Jasper.”
“But you outsmarted him.” Cage played to her ego, knowing damn well she wouldn’t bite.
“After eight years of captivity and another four dealing with his pathetic phone calls.” She rolled her eyes. “He kept calling. Cathy would have killed him if she knew. I thought about telling her, but why should she get to have all the fun? Anyway, when he called just to talk—like we’d been some couple that broke up after years together—I saw my chance.
“I hitched a ride home, got a job waiting tables, and planned. Lived off the streets for a while, but eventually got a shitty apartment and this phone. I kept the number. He kept calling. I paid attention and waited.”
Cage still couldn’t wrap his head around Lyric living in New Orleans all these years. Seeing Charlotte with Annabeth gave Lyric peace, and she didn’t want her grandmother to know the things she’d been forced to do. He didn’t know if that made her a saint or a martyr, but it bugged him.
“When I saw Annabeth’s story on the news, I knew he would come after her. I couldn’t let him destroy her life again.”
Lyric’s mix of hatred and kindness left Cage dizzy. Her obvious affection for Annabeth battled with her inner demons and need for revenge.
“I’m not a heartless monster.” Lyric held up an old, beat-up cell phone. “Obviously not a shiny new smartphone, but this Razr records audio. Before Annabeth jumped me, I made Billy give me the names of the girls he and Cathy killed and where they were buried. He got smarter over the years, like I said. Four girls. Want me to email you the audio?”
Cage couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Let me hear it first.”
“I’m turning it down low so these two don’t wake up and freak.” She handed Cage the phone, and he pushed play.
“Please don’t do this.”
Lyric smiled at the sound of Billy’s terrified voice coming through the tinny speaker. “Pussy.”
“Give me their names and where you put them, and maybe I’ll reconsider.” Her response burned with hatred.
Half-crying, Billy gave her four names: two girls were from Arkansas, one from West Texas, and a fourth from southern Oklahoma. Billy claimed all four were buried in an abandoned family graveyard about two miles away from his old place in Little Rock.
The recording stopped before Annabeth’s alleged lunge for Lyric and the ensuing chaos.
“There you go,” Lyric said. “If they don’t find him, you have what you need.”
He slipped her phone into his pocket. “I’m going to take this phone for evidence, since you handed it to me freely.”
“Whatever. I don’t have anyone to call now.”
“If they don’t find him, he’s going to go back to taking girls.”
Lyric stretched her legs out and craned her neck to stare at the popcorn ceiling. “He was bleeding pretty bad, and there are a lot of gators out there.”
“You realize your car will be processed for evidence.” With enough fear and adrenaline, the women could have carried Billy’s body to the car and driven it to the swamp.
“Go ahead.”
“It’s interesting that you felt you needed to guard the cabin, yet all three of you took showers.”
“These two were dirty. He hadn’t gone for them yet, but you do things when you’re tied up for a long time. And I was sweating like a pig.”
; “Will we find blood in the shower drains?”
“Cathy’s sprayed all over, so yeah, you might.”
Cage sighed and mimicked her posture, his eyes fighting to stay open. “Just tell me the truth.”
“I have,” Lyric mumbled. “You’ve heard all I have to say.”
Cage started awake. Bonin’s hand gripped his shoulder, and she put her finger to her lips. All three women slept; Lyric had curled up on the floor in front of Annabeth’s couch.
“I need to talk to you.” Bonin led him out of the break room, quietly shutting the door.
“You didn’t find him.”
She made a face. “We found enough.”
70
Lyric crept away from the door. She didn’t need to hear any more.
The gator was just plain luck.
“Did they find him?” Annabeth was awake, all big-eyed and scared. All the years Lyric had kept on eye on Annabeth and Charlotte, she’d always known Annabeth was the one who deserved a real chance at life. The hell if Lyric was going to let that be taken away now.
“Sounds like it.”
“He’s dead, right?” Annabeth whispered. “You did kill him, didn’t you?”
“Hush and go back to sleep. Stick to what I told you, and everything will be fine.”
Lyric told Cage the truth—except for the part about Billy slipping off into the woods. Annabeth had charged her, Billy ran into the overgrown yard. Lyric shot him, and he went down but then scrambled to his feet and limped toward the woods. Annabeth had used up all her energy to stop her from blowing Billy’s head open, and Sheila sat like a deer ready to get plowed by a truck.
Lyric managed to slam the door shut and half-ass lock the storage pod. She caught up with Billy at the edge of the woods. His bleeding calf left a nice trail as she put the gun to his head and forced him deep into the woods.
She didn’t know exactly what she was going to do at that point. She had to make sure Annabeth and Sheila were safe before she put the gun to her own head.
Except Annabeth needed her.
And maybe Lyric didn’t want to die.
“Shit, stop.” Billy saw the alligator first. It lurked near a stream, eyes glowing in the twilight. “They’re fast. Take the long way around him.”
Lyric had known exactly what to do.
71
Cage cradled his sleeping daughter against his shoulder and slipped his arm around Dani’s waist. She leaned against him, wiping her eyes.
Annabeth and Lyric, along with Alexandrine, bowed their heads as Charlotte’s ashes were interred in the Sanité tomb.
“Is she going to serve time?” Dani whispered.
Lyric had spent three months in the county jail while the prosecuting attorneys in different states haggled over whether or not to press charges. The Tangipahoa Parrish district attorney finally declined, accepting self-defense for Cathy’s death and for the gunshot that turned Billy into alligator supper.
Cage still didn’t believe the story. He also didn’t care. The information Billy had given Lyric about his other victims had been correct, and the other four families received a bitter closure, along with the families of the victims buried in Jasper. Sheila buried her brother next to her mother and cut off everyone else.
Agent Tims had been livid about losing the opportunity to arrest Billy Pietry. Tims fought to have Cage brought in front of the LBI and FBI internal review boards, arguing that the Louisiana Bureau of Investigation existed to assist the FBI in criminal matters, and the LBI’s new Criminal Investigative Assist Unit also fell under that heading.
Agent Rogers fought vehemently against it, using the media to paint the FBI as headline-grabbing vultures who didn’t care about Billy Pietry’s victims or their families.
The Jasper County district attorney waffled on prosecuting Lyric for Mickie’s murder. Given Lyric’s imprisonment and history of psychological abuse, capital murder charges weren’t an option. Texas laws lumped both voluntary and involuntary into a single charge with mitigating circumstances, and the prosecutor didn’t have a chance at convincing a jury that Lyric had willingly killed Mickie—even with the video.
Mickie’s parents lobbied hard, but Sam George stepped in, hiring a top defense attorney and skilled psychiatrist. Lyric allowed Mickie’s parents to hear much of her sessions with the psychiatrist—most of them detailing the extensive sexual and psychological abuse she endured.
Cage didn’t know if Mickie’s parents accepted her version of being forced to give up or just gave in to Sam George’s unrelenting pressure, but they eventually agreed that taking the case to trial would be a waste of time. The Jasper County D.A. declined to prosecute but insisted Lyric agree to court-monitored psychiatric counseling.
Annabeth and Alexandrine believed Ezili and the other spirits led the way to Lyric’s freedom.
With Alexandrine’s forceful encouragement, Annabeth had started cognitive therapy again. A few bits and pieces had come back to her, and more importantly, she allowed visits from her parents.
“Lyric’s not upset about Annabeth owning the house?”
“Who knows?” Cage said. “I’m not sure it’s possible to really know what she’s thinking.”
“I hope the two of them living there together doesn’t end up in a disaster.”
So did he. But the women were stubborn and no longer Cage’s responsibility. He’d told Annabeth if she wanted to do something as foolish as live with Lyric, then not to expect him to bail her out of trouble. He still hadn’t figured out how the argument had resulted in Dani yelling at him for being insensitive and him being stuck helping Lyric move in.
Alexandrine made her way around the treacherous crypts, reaching for Cage’s arm to steady her. “I’m just going to give them a moment alone with her.” She beamed at Emma. “I’m so happy to have a little one around. You two bring her to see me or I’ll sic Ezili on you.”
Dani giggled.
“I told you all, it was a sleep-deprived dream. Period.”
“Keep on denying,” Alexandrine said. “Ezili’ll still be there if you need her.”
“I hope so,” Dani said. “I’m used to living in a house full of ghosts. I feel kind of lonely without them.”
“Come on,” Cage said. “We’ve never seen anything.”
“Just hearing someone digging through the hidden section of the house at all hours of the night and finding no one. Footsteps going up and down the servants’ quarters, knocking …”
Alexandrine patted Cage’s cheek. “He’ll come around. New Orleans gets to everyone eventually.”
Bonin told him the same thing at least once a week. He’d started to regret having his office next to her squad room.
Lyric and Annabeth joined them. Both wore bright purple as homage to Charlotte’s favorite color. Lyric’s newly shortened hair curled in ringlets around her face, while Annabeth’s long waves hung down her back. Most people would mistake them for sisters.
“I’m hungry,” Annabeth said. “And I want gumbo.”
“Gross,” Lyric said. “Let’s have steak.”
“You payin’?” Alexandrine asked.
“Do I look like I can afford to buy steaks?”
Alexandrine grunted. “That’s what I thought. Ya’ll come back to my house. I made a big pot of étouffée and baked mac and cheese for the little one.”
“And me,” Lyric said. “I hate crawfish.”
She and Annabeth argued over gumbo all the way out of St. Louis No. 1, while Dani walked with Alexandrine. Cage switched Emma to his other arm. He thanked the attendant from the Archdiocese for allowing the private ceremony.
A soft November breeze swept down Basin Street, blowing bits of trash and debris across the sidewalk in front of the cemetery wall. As the old iron gate clanged shut, a sliver of cold ran down Cage’s spine.
The fresh fall breeze carried the heady scent of musky oil Alexandrine loved to offer the Loa.
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Books by Stacy
Click on the covers below to learn more!
The Cage Foster Series
The Lies We Bury
The Night He Died
The Delta Crossroads Trilogy
Tin God
Skeleton’s Key
Ashes and Bone
The Delta Crossroads Trilogy
Tin God
Skeleton’s Key
Ashes and Bone
Delta Detectives Novella Series (Cage Foster)
Living Victim
Dead Wrong
Night Terror
Last Words
Shots Fired
Dead Wait
The Lucy Kendall Series
She’s no killer. She’s just taking out the trash.
Hear No Lies
All Good Deeds
See Them Run
Gone To Die
All Fall Down
Killing Jane
Killing Jane
Standalone
Into the Devil’s Underground
Welcome to Las Vegas
Twisted Minds
About the Author
Stacy Green is the author of the Lucy Kendall thriller series and the Delta Crossroads mystery trilogy. ALL GOOD DEEDS (Lucy Kendall #1) won a bronze medal for mystery and thriller at the 2015 IPPY Awards. TIN GOD (Delta Crossroads #1) was runner-up for best mystery/thriller at the 2013 Kindle Book Awards. Stacy has a love of thrillers and crime fiction, and she is always looking for the next dark and twisted novel to enjoy. She started her career in journalism before becoming a stay at home mother and rediscovering her love of writing. She lives in Iowa with her husband and daughter and their three spoiled fur babies.