“Fuckin’ bitch,” he grumbled as he studied the furrows gouged in his cheek by her nails.
He didn’t know why the water worked in the house, but he wasn’t questioning it. He splashed some on his face to rinse the blood off. He’d gotten nothing out of her except satisfaction as he slammed his fist into her face repeatedly until she’d stopped breathing. He hadn’t planned on killing her, just finding out where that fucking cunt Nevaeh was, but the bitch had damn near taken his eye out.
Damn sure won’t let shit like that go unpunished.
At least he’d gotten nearly eighty dollars out of her purse. He didn’t bother with her credit cards. They’d be too easy to track and maybe get him caught on a surveillance camera. He’d also taken some food from her fridge, cold cuts and a loaf of bread, that he ate at his hideout.
He grabbed a quick, albeit cold, shower using the stuff he’d taken with him from the hurricane shelter.
When he finished, he dressed and went into the living room and sat by the back sliders where light spilled in from a security lamp near the back fence. He held up the address book into the shaft of light so he could see. He’d try April Kinsey next. When he’d finally arrived in town on Saturday, he picked Emily because she lived the closest to the library where he’d used computers to look up where everyone lived. He wanted to get her sooner than that, but she’d had a damn open house going on and wasn’t alone until the real estate agent left.
There was also a Karen and a Peggy he could go after if this April woman couldn’t or wouldn’t give him any information.
Although he suspected after what he’d just done, he might need to wait a few days to catch any of them alone.
He spent the night on the living room floor. It wasn’t the greatest bed, but dry carpet with a roof over his head beat mud any day.
The next morning, he cautiously watched the neighboring houses through the window blinds. At the house next door, he watched a woman dressed for an office job buckle a baby into a car seat and leave. A little while later, a man, also dressed professionally, left.
When Alex looked in the backyard, he found a gate leading to an open space between the houses, where another gate led to the neighbors’ backyard.
Taking a chance, and not seeing anyone around, he knocked on the front door twice. After not getting an answer, he went into the backyard.
He smiled. The house looked identical to the one he was staying in. After pulling his sleeves down over his hands to keep his fingerprints hidden, he tried the sliders. Locked, but it was just as easy to push up and sideways on the door and jimmy it free.
Inside, he readjusted the door on the track and unlocked it before closing it behind him.
The house felt empty, despite the signs of a family. No pets, no one left behind.
He saw a pair of dish gloves draped over the edge of the kitchen sink and put them on. He rummaged through their fridge, found himself some food, and quickly ate it.
That need met, he walked the house. No guns that he could find, but he got several dollars worth of change from a bowl on the owners’ dresser, as well as eight dollars in bills.
He wondered if anyone had found Emily’s body yet.
After spending an hour there, he’d also added a flashlight, a pocket knife, and a small battery-operated FM radio to his stash. He needed to travel light. Cash, weapons, food. He had no use for a computer or large electronics like a TV that he’d have to lug around. Couldn’t pawn anything, because they’d ask for ID and get him on camera.
Once he finally tracked Nevvie down and exacted his revenge, he’d head out for Slidell. No one would find him once he got home to Louisiana. He had family and friends all up and down the state who’d hide him.
After putting the gloves back on the sink, he looked around. It didn’t look like anyone had been there, and what little he took hopefully wouldn’t raise any suspicions. He went back out the sliders, making sure they were locked behind him.
* * * *
He risked a walk down to a convenience store for some food that evening. He watched and waited until four other customers had entered the store so he wouldn’t stand out as much.
His GED wasn’t the only education he’d had while in prison. He’d gotten a great education from fellow inmates on how to act to not get caught.
The next morning, he stole the newspaper from the driveway of a house three doors away. They had two newspapers lying in the drive already, so they probably weren’t home.
He’d wait to case that house. He was more interested in the story on the front page.
Back in his hideout, he spread the paper on the kitchen counter and read. He’d heard radio reports yesterday about the killing, but here it was in black and white.
As he read, he didn’t learn anything other than what he already knew.
Then, he grinned. “Family spokesperson Nevaeh Kinsey-Paulson, huh?” He let out a laugh. “More like family breeder cunt.” But he was on the right path. He’d find out where she was hiding and when he did, she’d fucking wish she’d never been born.
Chapter Fourteen
Early Friday morning, Nevvie stared out the kitchen window. She wished the rain would just stop for a day. Today, at least. The cliché was enough to set her nerves on edge and make her want to scream. She listened to it gently pattering on the roof off and on all night as sleep mostly eluded her despite Tom and Tyler’s comforting presence.
The few times she did manage to drift off, she was haunted by dreams of the afternoon Alex nearly killed her in their kitchen. Wednesday and Thursday had been a blur of visitors and funeral preparations. Having Kelly and Tyler there meant Nevvie could step back and focus on Tom and Peggy and comforting them and the other sisters.
At dawn, she’d carefully climbed out of bed without waking either man and made her way to the kitchen. Andrew had already beaten her there, of course, and was just starting a pot of coffee.
He managed a wan smile. “Good morning, love.” He kissed her cheek. “Did you get any sleep last night?”
She stared out the window at the mushy yard, which looked even more depressing in the early purple light. “Not much. How’s Mom?”
“She’s trying to be very brave for the children, but this has truly crushed her, I fear. How fares Tom?”
She shook her head. “Not much better.” She leaned against the counter and dropped her voice to ensure no one could hear her but Andrew. “Does it make me a horrible person to not feel much more than wanting this bullshit over with? I mean I’m not glad she’s dead, but if it was up to me, there wouldn’t be a funeral. I don’t even want to go. I’m only going to support everyone else.”
“No, you are not a horrible person. I daresay it makes you human. Funerals are for the living. Let’s be honest about it. The deceased surely don’t give a rat’s arse, as you’d say.”
Nevvie snorted. “Yeah. If Emily did, she’d be spinning in her coffin that Mom’s preacher is leading the service at her church. Seriously, what kind of eulogy do you give someone like her? ‘She didn’t boil puppies or put razors in Halloween candy. She was a closed-minded bigot, but she wasn’t in the Ku Klux Klan.’ I mean, come on. It’s really hard to say nice things about someone who spouted so much hate for others.”
He sighed. “It’s something Peggy herself wrestled with yesterday. She confided in Reverend Mitchell about what Emily had done, both to you and how she’d estranged herself from her own children. She did, however, do some good in her life when the entirety of her deeds are considered. Sadly, it took her death to bring her family even closer together. The lesson to be learned, I suspect, is that we should examine our family bonds now and work to strengthen and renew them before it’s too late.”
Nevvie chewed that over as she poured herself a cup of coffee. “I can live with that. It’s not hypocritical. It’s not blasting Emily. And most important, it’s not guilting the rest of us for not trying harder or some bullshit like that.” She sipped her coffee. “Mom’s not l
etting anyone get up and speak at the service, is she?”
“No. She fears some of Emily’s church friends might try to turn it into a soapbox.” He frowned. “I thought perhaps Elle had exaggerated somewhat when telling us about Emily’s church friends. I fear she didn’t paint an accurate picture of how filled with hate some of those members truly are. The preacher and associates we met with yesterday were”—he paused, obviously trying to find the right word—“unique.”
Nevvie could only imagine how unique they were. “They made Dolores look sane?”
“Ah!” He pointed at her. “That’s a very apt way of stating it. It’s certainly more polite than how Peggy stated it yesterday.”
“How’d she state it?”
“I said they were a bunch of stuck-up assholes who’d better not think about opening their damn yaps at the service,” Peggy grumbled as she walked into the kitchen.
An involuntary snort of laughter escaped Nevvie. “Mom! I don’t think I’ve ever heard you swear like that.”
Peggy stepped into Andrew’s arms for a hug. “That was tame,” Andrew said, “compared to what she said once we were alone.” He kissed the top of Peggy’s head. “Coffee, love?”
“Yes, please.” She and Nevvie sat at the table. “I just want this over with. Thank you,” she said to Andrew when he brought her cup of coffee to her. Her eyes looked red and puffy, but her body language and expression currently screamed her resignation over the process. “I wouldn’t be having a service at all if it was completely up to me. But the twins still want to have a funeral for her.”
“I know this is a tacky question, but who gets her house now that she’s dead?” Nevvie asked.
“The twins. Emily had a new will drawn up after the divorce. That pompous little bastard yesterday tried to tell me Emily had promised the house to his church. I told him unless he had it in writing, he could shove the idea up his fucking ass.” She sipped her coffee.
Nevvie’s eyes widened. “Wow, Mom. Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m sorry, sugar. I’m just not myself.”
Nevvie exchanged a concerned glance with Andrew, who stood behind Peggy. His eyebrows rose for a moment in an unmistakable expression of agreement with Nevvie’s assessment.
* * * *
Nevvie suspected Tom wouldn’t have eaten anything for breakfast if she and Tyler hadn’t tag-teamed him and brought the food and coffee to him in their room. Even after his accident, in his darkest mental state then, he didn’t look as lost as he did now.
Tyler left their bedroom to help Laurie and Kelly get the boys ready. John, who had arrived Thursday afternoon, and Kelly had volunteered to stay behind to babysit. Several of Peggy’s friends from church told Nevvie they would take care of everything for the wake at the church’s Fellowship Hall. The cemetery sat on the same property as the church, so at least they wouldn’t have to caravan back and forth.
And Nevvie and Kelly wouldn’t have to deal with trying to wrangle a houseful of people later. Only immediate family had been invited back to the house after the wake. With Andrew’s blessings, Nevvie had already determined if anyone wanted to stay late enough for dinner, she’d order pizzas and they could eat whatever had been brought to the house over the past couple of days. If they didn’t like it, they could go get their own damn food.
She wasn’t in a mood to put up with any guff from anyone. Not with so many of her family members hurting so badly and her feeling helpless to ease their heartache.
“I wish I could do something, anything, to help you through this, Tommy.”
He forced a smile, but didn’t look at her. “I know, baby girl. It’s just…” He shrugged. “Time.”
He leaned his head against her shoulder. She draped her arm around him and cradled him against her. “We’ll get through it,” she softly assured him. She kissed his forehead. She hated the dark circles under his eyes. “Like Tyler said, we have big shoulders. That’s why we’re here for you.”
“I’m just so angry,” he whispered, as if almost afraid to say it out loud. “I want to scream at her. I want to ask her why she had to be such a bitch. And I hate myself for it. I hate that I’m mad at her. She was the one killed. And I feel like a freaking dick because I’m mad at her for dying and leaving this bag of shit hanging over all of us. Over the twins and Clay, too. I was sad when Daddy died, but I wasn’t angry at him. I was angry at the son of a bitch who hit him, but not at Daddy. I knew Daddy loved us and loved Momma.”
She looked down into his sweet brown eyes. The tears there broke her heart. “It’s okay to be angry,” she said. “There’s going to be a lot of things you feel that you don’t know how to deal with. You and your sisters. And Mom. I think one day you’ll be able to look back on the good stuff without thinking about the bad stuff.”
“Will you?”
She thought about it. “I never really had a good relationship with Emily. Not from the start. Tyler barely had a civil relationship with her. I don’t have good memories of her the way you do. But I don’t begrudge the good memories you do have. She was your sister and you loved her.”
“What about you and Mary?”
That took her aback. “What about her?”
“Now that she’s died, are you able to look back at the good times?”
He didn’t press her for an answer. It took her a few minutes to form her thoughts into something that might make sense. “I’ll never like that she left me. I’ll never agree it was the right thing for her to do. I don’t regret talking to her, because I got my answers. And I now have my birth mom and dad and Laurie. And Jacob and Kyle.” She thought some more. “But I can honestly say that yes, I have been able to look back a little and think about the good times. Mostly they were when Dad was still alive. And some before she met Preacher Jim. I had to forgive her. Just like Tyler was able to forgive Marcus. The only person hurt by not forgiving was me. It doesn’t absolve her of what she did, just like me making a conscious decision to forgive Emily now doesn’t absolve her for what she did to us. I know I can’t spend the rest of my life hating her, though. I feel sorry for her. Even without…you know. This.”
He still looked sad, but she recognized the thoughtful expression in his eyes as he digested that. After a few minutes, he said, “I want to say I can forgive her, but I don’t think I can. Yet.”
“Then don’t.”
“Doesn’t that make me a hypocrite? Standing there while all these people who don’t have a clue what a bitch she was to us say how sorry they are for our loss when I’m still not that sure how sorry I am about it?”
“No, Tommy. It makes you as human as the rest of us.”
* * * *
Tom and Karen sat in the front pew flanking Peggy, Clay, and the twins, with the other sisters on either side of them. Tyler, Nevvie, Laurie, Andrew, Bill, and others sat directly behind Tom and Peggy. By Nevvie’s estimate, less than two hundred people came for the service, with at least fifty of them from Emily’s church.
Nevvie tried to tune out everyone else, including some overly loud sniffles from Emily’s church friends, and focus on her family.
At least we’re spared an open casket, she thought not for the first time as the preacher led into the first Bible reading.
The service lasted almost forty minutes, which was thirty-five minutes too long for Nevvie’s liking, but she kept her mouth shut. When the time came for them to carry the casket out to the cemetery, Tom, Tyler, Clay, Andrew, Bill, Danny, and Cheryl’s and Katie’s husbands got up to be the pallbearers.
The drizzle had, miraculously, let up for a little while. Long enough that the people who couldn’t fit under the tent over the grave didn’t get wet.
Emily would be buried next to her father. Nevvie realized this was the first time she’d ever been to Adam Kinsey’s grave. While she stood there for the final prayer before Emily’s coffin was lowered into the grave, she tried not to think about the last time she stood by a grave, when she was eight and the hot Flor
ida sun beat down on her and Mary.
After the service was over, she kept her arm hooked through Tom’s and walked with him over to the Fellowship Hall. There, Nevvie kept what she hoped looked like a genuine, polite smile plastered on her face while everyone came up to Peggy, Tom, and the sisters to express their condolences.
It took them over two hours to get out of there and caravan back home. Alone in the car with Tyler and Nevvie, Tom closed his eyes and pulled his tie off. “Thank fucking god that’s over with.”
She reached over the front seat and rubbed his shoulders. “You okay?”
He patted her hand. “I will be, baby girl. I’m sorry I wasn’t here earlier for you.”
“Me, too, love,” Tyler said.
At the house, Nevvie hurried inside to help Kelly prepare. At one point in the afternoon, she noticed Tyler still wore his suit coat. “You want me to take that for you and hang it up?” she asked.
“No, it’s all right, love. I’m fine.”
* * * *
Tyler breathed a sigh of relief when she let the subject drop. He’d worn the underarm holster all day. The jacket was a little on the warm side, but it easily hid the gun. And whoever had killed Emily was still out there.
He wouldn’t take any chances.
* * * *
Alex sat in the stolen car and watched the funeral procession from the front of the church to the graveside. He hunkered down in his car, unable to contain his smile. Yep, there was that goddamn cunt and her two fag boys.
Now all he had to do was figure out where they were staying. He thought about following them when they left, but that would be too risky. There would be too many people around today for him to try it.
Love Slave for Two Collection [Box Set 7] Page 129