Why pick the black lily, instead of another flower? What are you trying to say? Are the girls black lilies? Or did something traumatic happen to you that involved that flower?
I kneeled down and studied one. The petals were more a dark purple than black and possessed a satiny shimmer. The trumpet-shaped flowers added a dramatic appeal.
At the airport and before the flight, I’d read up on the black calla lily, trying to figure out why the Angel Maker chose them.
In Victorian times people used to collect black flowers and would go to any lengths to find the most exotic species. A pure black flower was the Holy Grail to all flower breeders.
The lilies symbolized resurrection and rebirth. They had other names—black jewels, black charms. People gave the flowers to loved ones and friends healing from illness. Others delivered them to break up with a lover. Some thought they stood for victory due to their trumpet-like shapes. Many artists put them in paintings of the Virgin Mary, signifying resurrection and faithfulness.
Why did you choose the black lily, psycho? Is it a victory that the girls are dead? Or is it resurrection and purity?
The Unsub considered himself a religious man. He made the little girls into angels and prepared them for heaven.
The lily also represented purity and virginity which was why painters usually had Virgin Mary holding white ones. He placed lilies in their hands, perhaps like the Virgin Mary. I’d read that when the apostles went to open Mary’s tomb, they found it filled with fragrant flowers, confirming that Jesus took her up to heaven after she died. Archangel Gabriel was often depicted in scenes of the Annunciation giving Mary a lily.
But, why the use of the black lily?
A dark voice sounded behind me. “Haven?”
I rose and turned around. “Sean? What the hell are you doing here?”
Chapter 10
The Sins of Our Fathers
Haven
My ex stood before me. Gorgeous, but that was never Sean’s problem. The difficulty remained in his lack of courage to be himself and do the right thing.
I shook my head.
Has he lost his mind?
At least he had his shirt on. He’d thrown on a cotton t-shirt over those great fitting jeans, put on some sneakers, and rushed out the house.
I placed my hands on my hips. “How did you know where I was staying?”
“I followed Agent King’s car.”
I held out my hands. “Because?”
“Because we should talk—”
“About what?”
“Us.”
I let out a long breath. “There’s nothing to talk about. You wanted to keep me a secret. I understood the reason as a teen. I let you continue with the excuse in my twenties. Now, we are both in our thirties and it’s depressing and pathetic.”
Sean ran his fingers through his hair. “It’s not just an excuse. It’s not just my parents and all about race. You don’t want to move back here.”
“Of course not. I have a career with the FBI.”
“But—”
“There are no buts.” I walked off. “It’s been five years. Move on.”
“Can we talk?”
I rolled my eyes. “You don’t want to talk. You’re just trying to get laid. That’s what it’s always been about.”
“Trust me, Haven.” He grabbed my wrists and stopped me right before I exited the courtyard.
“Trust you?”
“I only want to talk, and it was never just about sex.”
“You only want to talk?” I moved my arm. “Then, go ahead and make it quick.”
Sean looked around. “Can we go somewhere private?”
“Like my room with the bed?”
He licked his lips. “Maybe. It would just be to talk.”
“No. We can talk right here.”
He frowned. “Fine.”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “Let’s talk.”
“Do you think it’s safe to be on this case?”
“I do.”
“This is different than your other cases.”
“You don’t really know what I did in my other cases.”
“It wasn’t serial killers.” Sean scowled at me. “I don’t like that you’re on this. Did your mother think it was a good idea?”
“Yes. Not that it mattered.”
“Will you be working next to Agent King the whole time?”
“Maybe. Why?”
“I don’t know. I’m not sure if I like this or not.”
“I don’t care.” I left the courtyard and headed off to the dining room. “I can’t believe you showed up here. You could’ve just called—”
“You don’t pick up when I call.”
“You could have left a message.” I hurried down the hallway and stopped at the entrance to the dining room.
The hostess smiled at me. “Welcome. Would you like to be seated?”
“Yes.” I grinned at Sean. “Table for two?”
Sean peeked in.
I rolled my eyes. People stacked the place. Surely, many were from Fullbrooke. Husbands liked to bring their wives here for special occasions.
He scratched his head. “Uh. . .yeah. Let’s. . .eat.”
The hostess lifted two leather menus.
I got to his side. “So, Sean Thompson will be seen with a black woman this evening?”
“Everyone knows I’m crazy about you. It’s not a secret.”
“But, you would rather people didn’t see us together.”
“I don’t feel like dealing with my side of town.”
“You should keep better friends and family.”
“I can’t cut everybody. They’re blood.”
“But if blood represents mean people, then you should run far away.”
“That’s not how I do things.”
The hostess gestured to our table. “Here we go.”
Sean rushed to my chair and pulled it out.
Unimpressed, I sat down.
The hostess set the menus on the table. “Your waitress will be with you shortly.”
“Thank you.” I picked up my menu.
Sean didn’t grab his. Instead, he focused his view on me. “How long do you think the case will take to solve?”
“I have no idea.”
“But you could be here for a while?”
“Yes.” I scanned the menu. “It won’t matter when you’re concerned. This is our first and last meal together while I’m here.”
“You shouldn’t lie.”
“I’m telling the truth.”
I checked my left and spotted Brett and Tina sitting together. They didn’t appear to have seen me. Tina giggled at something Brett said. Their plates were half full and they both had glasses of wine.
Our waitress arrived. She looked familiar. I must’ve gone to school with her. She greeted us and said the specials. I gave her my order of steak, baked potato, and broccoli. Sean only wanted a beer. I asked for a pinot noir.
When she left, I turned back to Sean. “Why did you really show up tonight?”
“I wanted to talk.”
“And?”
“I’m wondering. . .”
I leaned back in my chair.
“Does the FBI suspect my father? I know that there have been whispers around town about my father and his friends’ possible involvement with these missing girls.”
“Not missing.”
“What?”
“Now they are dead.” I tilted my head to the side. “Do you think your father and his friends may be involved?”
“Of course not.”
“But you came here to make sure he was out of trouble.”
“I’m his son. If someone said that about your mother, you would’ve looked into it.”
“No one would say that about my mother. She doesn’t do the sort of things or hang out with the type of people that would make her suspicious to a case of dead children.”
“My father is a lot of things, but he’s n
o killer.”
“But, kidnapper?”
“Not a kidnapper either.”
“And his friends?”
Sean shrugged. “I can’t speak for his friends. I just know that my father wouldn’t do anything like that.”
The waitress set my glass of wine and his beer down.
I didn’t pick up my wine. Instead, I studied him. Something didn’t settle right with his worry for his father. I thought about the answers he’d given to Alexander in his living room earlier.
Sean stirred under my attention and then took a swig of his beer. “What?”
“Your father doesn’t have an alibi for those nights? Does he?”
Sean took another swig.
“You were with your mother for church those days, but what about your father? Was he at Sunday dinner too?”
“My father didn’t—”
“Wow.” I shook my head. “Reverend Thompson wasn’t around at all. Where was he?”
“I don’t know. My parents have had some issues this year. They’ve been separated.”
“So, he’s not in the home?”
“No.”
“And he doesn’t go to church with you all?”
“No, but he’s still working on getting his own church.”
That won’t happen. Not after he stole that money.
I sat up. “Did you ask him about his whereabouts?”
Sean ignored my question. “I need a favor from you, Haven.”
“A favor?”
“My father has been through a lot this year. He doesn’t need—”
“Oh, no. You think that I’m going to make sure the FBI doesn’t bother him?”
The waitress arrived with my plate. We both went silent. When she left, Sean glared at me. “I only want you to give me a heads up, if something—”
“No way. I can’t do that.”
“I would do it for you, Haven.”
“My mother wouldn’t be a suspect in a case, and even more I wouldn’t expect you to do something like that. I could get in trouble.”
“It wouldn’t be that bad—”
“It would. My answer is no.”
The glare shifted to anger. “Everyone in Fullbrooke would like my father to be the scapegoat for these girls. Due to what happened years ago, my father is the perfect person for that job. The only problem is, he had nothing to do with these girls going missing.”
I raised my eyebrows. “What happened years ago?”
“Are you fucking with me, Haven?”
“No. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Eyeing me, he trailed his fingers along the top of the beer.
“Sean, what happened?”
He shook his head. “I might as well say it now. I’m sure Agent King already knows or will find out.”
“Find out what?”
“When my father was a kid, there were missing black girls in his town.”
“What town?”
“Colesville.”
“How many girls were missing?”
“Six. They. . .were later found dead.”
A cold shiver ran up my spine. “How were the girls discovered?”
Sean set his beer down and turned away from me. “The men would hang the little girls on trees in their parents’ front yards.”
“The men? Who?” My stomach twisted. “Did your father have something to do with it?”
“No. He was just eight at the time, but. . .” Sean frowned. “My grandfather did and my grand uncle. They served time for it.”
I wore a skeptical expression. “How long were your grandfather and grand uncle in jail?”
“Two years.”
“For kidnapping and killing six girls?”
“Times were different then. And it wasn’t just them. It was their. . .whole group.”
“You mean the Ku Klux Klan?”
“My father isn’t a part of that.”
“No. His group is a watered-down version of the KKK.”
“Listen.” Sean leaned forward. “Regardless of how you feel about my father and his group, they had nothing to do with these murders.”
“Well, if you’re so sure about that, then do you know who kidnapped and kill these little girls?”
“What?” Sean shook his head. “No.”
“If you did know, would you tell me?”
“Of course.”
I sliced a piece of my steak. “Even if it had to do with someone from your side of town or with your father’s group?”
“It doesn’t matter. I want this guy found as much as you do.”
“Unless it’s your father?”
“It isn’t.”
“I hope you’re right.” I ate a piece of steak. It was hard to swallow after hearing the news, but I hadn’t eaten since the flight.
Sean picked his beer back up. “You’ve turned cold.”
“This isn’t about hot or cold. It’s about six black girls dying for no reason at all.” I cut another piece of steak. “And if you think I’m going to give anybody here special treatment because their your parents or anybody else’s family, then you’re wrong. I’m not running this investigation anyway.”
Sean drank more of his beer.
With that, I made a note to look into the old case of the missing black girls in Colesville. The Angel Maker could have been alive during that time or even had a connection to the situation.
Leave it to Sean to bring us clues.
The rest of the dinner went surprisingly light.
Sean shifted the conversation to catching me up on local news. He told me about our classmates and which ones had kids or got married. I eased into the talk, happy to get my mind off the case for a few minutes.
On my left, I spotted Tina and Brett finish their meal and leave. Brett waved at me as he walked out. A little embarrassment hit me, but I pushed it away. Surely, Brett had no idea who I was talking to.
When the waitress came over, Sean pulled out his credit card.
“That’s fine.” I waved him away.
“No. I know the FBI will take care of it, but let me tonight.” He paid for my meal and our drinks.
When it was time to head back to my room, I stopped his journey in the lobby. “I guess I’ll see you again somewhere.”
Sean gestured to the staircase. “I was thinking I could walk you to your room.”
“Yeah. I bet you did think that, but it is a no.”
He frowned. “I just want to make sure you get there fine.”
“Thanks, but no thanks.”
“Haven, please let—”
“No, Sean.” I waved goodbye. “But, thank you for dinner.”
“I want to see you again.”
I ignored him and walked off. What else could I say that I hadn’t told him over and over before? Throughout these years, I had wasted enough time and energy on him. The more I thought about it, the more I was disappointed in myself.
Sean and I are finally done. He’s out of my system. There is no way I’m going to let him back in my heart. I don’t care if I’m in town or not.
That being said, I was glad he’d stopped by. I had no idea about the missing girls in Colesville years ago and that his grandfather had been involved. Was Reverend Thompson mimicking or engaging in family tradition?
The earlier Thompsons had hung the black girls on trees so their family could discover them. This was completely different for the Angel Maker’s method. Our Unsub was doing some form of a ritual. For him, the death served a purpose whereas the KKK only wanted to incite fear.
But still, I was certain that the Colesville murders could relate and help us with the Fullbrooke Six.
Please, God. We need to get this guy before he starts kidnapping and killing girls again.
If Alexander and I had it right, this psycho would kidnap a girl on August 15—the Assumption of Mary. We had some time to figure this out, but we could be wrong. What if he grabbed a girl on another day? What if we messed it up?
<
br /> No. I have to believe that we’re on the right path.
When I headed upstairs and arrived at my door, I considered going over to Alexander’s room. For one, I was excited to tell him about the Colesville case. It could be a huge lead. Second, I enjoyed looking at his face and listening to that sexy voice.
No. I can wait until tomorrow.
I headed inside my room.
The door shut behind me.
Kicking off my shoes, I grabbed the remote control and turned on the TV.
That Colors of Love show that the old police clerk was watching, played on the screen.
What is the big deal with this show?
On the tv, the slave master from earlier was no longer wearing any clothes. He lay next to the naked slave, holding her in his arms. I wasn’t sure if she’d enjoyed it or not. I couldn’t see how she would, but there was no horror on her face.
Could she have shown terror to her master? He might have whipped her.
A crazy thought came to me. Alexander and this actor looked similar. They could have easily been brothers.
Is that how his body looks when he’s naked? Wait. Stop it.
The slave master ran his fingers through her short afro. “I would do anything for you, Fanny.”
Fanny? Is this about Tom Fullbrooke and his slave? No wonder everyone around here is going crazy.
I sat down on the bed and turned the volume up.
“Everything changed, when I bought you.” Tom kissed each of her fingers. “I’ll do anything for you, my love.”
Her bottom lip shivered and then she whispered, “Would you set me free?”
The passion in his eyes disappeared within seconds. Rage entered. He sat up in bed. “Don’t you ever ask me a thing like that again. Don’t I treat you right?”
“Yes, master.”
“Don’t I look after you, girl?”
“Yes, master.”
I shut the TV off. “What kind of craziness is this? We can’t think of a better topic than this for television?”
Annoyed, I set the remote control down, took off my clothes, and headed into the shower.
The colors of love my ass.
Chapter 11
A Brutal History
Alexander
After leaving Haven, I took a shower, threw on some jogging pants and settled on the bed. The Fullbrooke Six’s files were spread out in front of me. Although I knew all of the details by heart, I wanted to go over everything again.
Missing Hearts Page 11