“So now you’re a Marine,” said Robert. As he’d predicted, the deacons were turning on each other. It was long overdue.
“I’ve always been a Marine. I just needed a little remindin’.”
“You don’t honestly think you’re going to walk after all the things you’ve done, do you?”
“No, I ain’t askin’ for that,” said Joe Bob. “I know I’m goin’ to jail. I deserve it. We all deserve it. I’ll accept my fate and take it like a man, as long as you promise me that damned preacher goes down the hardest. It was him that put us up to everything. He needs to hang.”
“And how are you going to help me do that?”
“I’ll tell you everything, from beginning to end. I’ll tell you the hundred percent truth, which Buck or Earl ain’t gonna do. I’ll do it so no one can say otherwise, or catch me in lies, or so forth. I won’t downplay my role in the whole mess. I killed before. You already know that. Hell, I was a Marine. I got paid to kill. I’ll look them lawyers and that judge straight in the eye and tell them the way it was. I’ll tell them folks on the jury what they need to hear. You’ll get your conviction, and then you can do whatever you want with me. I won’t plead. I won’t beg. I’ll take it like a man, like a Marine.”
Robert sat back. He looked at the man in front of him. Joe Bob sat upright, as if he were at a military tribunal. The man made a persuasive argument. He’d look great on the stand, with his G.I. Joe demeanor and matter-of-fact delivery. A little remorse, but full acceptance of guilt thrown in, and the jury would be ready to pin a medal on his chest. Robert had a fleeting idea of having Mr. Duncan show up in court dressed in full military regalia but dismissed it. Nevertheless, Joe Bob was prosecution gold. If he did well enough, he might even be able to avoid execution, in lieu of life behind bars. If—
“I tell you what I’m going to do,” said Robert. “I’m going to bring the district attorney in here, and we’re going to go over everything from beginning to end, over and over again. If I catch you lying even once, your ass is mine. If not, and you do as you say you’ll do, we’ll do everything in our power to keep you off of death row. But bear in mind, that’s not a promise. You’ll be sentenced however you’re sentenced, and I don’t want to hear a peep about it. No lawyers. No recanting. No bullshit. Do we have a deal?”
Joe Bob offered his shackled right hand. Robert buried his disgust and shook it.
“We have a deal, Detective.”
“We have a deal, Marine.”
CHAPTER EIGHTY-FIVE
Eustice sat next to his attorney in the interrogation room, looking like he didn’t have a care in the world. He casually puffed on his filter-less cigarette, waiting for the detective. When Robert entered the room with a sharply dressed man beside him, Eustice did his best to hide the swarm of butterflies that made a sudden appearance in the middle of his gut.
“Who you got with you, Detective?” asked the preacher. His attorney shot him a dirty look to remind him that he was to say nothing and to let his representative do the talking. Eustice paid him no mind. He was in charge. The sooner everyone learned their place, the sooner he’d be going home.
“You brought your lawyer, so I brought mine,” Robert said with a smile.
The district attorney introduced himself, reaching out to give Douglas Lee a firm handshake. Brother Eustice barely nodded in the man’s direction.
“I only come in here to discuss my boy,” said Eustice. “He was actin’ in self defense when that rogue deputy attacked us. You need to call off your men before someone else gets hurt.”
“What my client is trying to say is that there are several witnesses who can attest to the fact that Deputy Earl Barber acted in an unofficial capacity and murdered two men in cold blood with the intent to kill my client here, along with every other man present that day. Jeremiah Thomas was acting within his rights when he, unfortunately, was forced to protect his life and that of his immediate family, along with the lives of Buck McEwen and Joe Bob Duncan. Even then, he only meant to disarm the murderous scoundrel, not to kill him.”
“My boy is an excellent shot,” added Eustice, staring coldly into the eyes of the detective. “If he wanted someone dead, they’d be dead.”
“I’m sure he is,” said Robert, who met the man’s gaze without a hint of concern. “His brother could attest to that.”
“Why you son-of-a—” Brother Eustice exclaimed before being cut off by his attorney.
“My client came in here of his own accord to set things straight. There have been a lot of accusations thrown around. Accusations that, I must say, are not only unwarranted, but insulting as well. Mr. Vaughan,” he said, addressing the district attorney, “I hope you have evidence to back up these claims, or mark my words, I’ll make sure that justice is swift when it comes to reparations. My client’s reputation has been irrecoverably besmirched.”
“We’ll let the detective handle things at this point, Mr. Lee,” Vaughan responded. “When the time comes, I’ll be more than happy to do my part to make sure justice is served.”
“We want guarantees,” said Douglas Lee. “My client—”
“Fuck your client,” said Robert, his eyes never leaving Brother Eustice’s angry glare.
“Pardon me?” said Lee.
“You heard me,” said Robert. “I said, fuck your client, and his son. Your power is gone, Prophet. Poof! There’s no one left who’s buying your bullshit. In fact, they’re all clamoring to be the one to drive the last nail in your coffin. Too bad for them, I’m keeping that privilege for myself.”
“You are a fool to wait for a day that will never come, brother. Your days are numbered,” replied Eustice.
“Did your client just threaten an officer of the law?” asked Vaughan.
“No, he did not,” said Lee. “What he meant to say was—”
“They are numbered unto the Lord, who will smite thee with vengeance for your baseless attacks upon his servants,” finished Eustice.
“Ooooh!” replied Robert with a phony shiver. “Scary.”
“You won’t be laughin’ for long,” said Eustice.
“What my client is—” Lee tried to interrupt again.
“What your client is doing is trying to gather his courage for the upcoming storm. He believes his false bravado will sway things. He knows Jeremiah’s fate is already sealed.” Robert leaned in and whispered to the preacher, “All that live by the sword shall perish by it.”
Brother Eustice laughed. “So be it, Detective. It’s too late to stop now. Save those prayers for yourself.”
“What your client trying to say—” Vaughan said, much to Lee’s dismay.
Robert leaned back and smiled. “It’s time I prophesized a bit, Winchester. Any minute now, my boss is going to come in here and chew me out. He’s going to offer you an apology, but then explain, with as much regret as he can muster, how he’s unable to release you just yet, until we get a few things clarified. He’ll tell you how it’s for your own protection, etcetera. It doesn’t matter how you respond because, either way, you’ll be sitting in lockup until the arraignment. Then he’s going to demand that I go speak to your son’s wife, Brandine. She’ll have something urgent to tell me that requires my immediate attention. I’ll do as I’m ordered to do and run straight over there, where I’ll be assassinated by JT. Except, that’s where the prophesy takes an unexpected turn. Care to tell us, oh holy one, what’s really going to happen out at your son’s place?”
“You bastard!” Eustice lunged at the detective, only to be stopped by the handcuffs and chains that pulled against the bolted-down table.
“If he wanted me dead, I’d already be dead and all that, right?” said Robert. “What about what I want?”
“You leave my boy alone!” Eustice cried, his anger turning to alarm.
“I heard about his mission out in the parking lot in front of the church that day,” said Robert. “It seems he missed his chance. It’s my turn, now.”
“He was o
nly doin’ what—” Eustice stated before stopping himself.
Robert raised his eyebrows. “Go on.”
Brother Eustice fought a battle with what little was left of his soul. Even the life of the only son he had left wasn’t enough to change his priorities.
“He was only doin’ what the Lord instructed,” finished Eustice.
Douglas Lee, Esquire, breathed a sigh of relief. The district attorney shook his head. He had known from the beginning that it wasn’t going to be that easy.
Robert nodded. “So am I.”
A knock on the door signaled the end of the interrogation. John Turner entered the room. He chastised the detective for the heavy handed way he’d treated the esteemed preacher, and then he apologized to Winchester and Lee. Nobody in the room said a word as Turner continued his tirade. When it was over, he turned to Stallworth and instructed him to make haste to Jeremiah Winchester’s trailer because his wife, Brandine, had a pressing message to impart to him.
Tears welled up in Eustice’s eyes. Robert looked at him, this time with pity and sadness on his face. The die had been cast. Eustice was no Jesus; he was closer to Judas. He was no longer the prophet. That distinction now belonged to Stallworth.
CHAPTER EIGHTY-SIX
Jeremiah watched through the trees as the unmarked police cruiser pulled up to the trailer. He was grateful; he’d waited a long time for this.
Rain had been falling since the previous afternoon, and Jeremiah was wet and tired. Although the precipitation had diminished to a light drizzle, he was already soaked. The cool November air cut through his wet clothing, and it was all he could do to keep from shivering.
Jeremiah got into position. He held his rifle in place, looked through the scope, and waited for the detective to exit the vehicle. He waited. He waited some more.
Something was wrong. No one got out of the car. Jeremiah set the gun down and pulled out his binoculars. He scanned the area in front of his home, but nothing stirred. Why didn’t Stallworth get out?
The sound of a twig snapping made him jump. He turned his head to his right, but nothing was there. Jeremiah took a deep breath. He was getting paranoid. He listened intently to the sounds of the forest. The light rain and creaking of the trees made it impossible to hone in on the source of every noise. After a few moments, he laughed and whispered to himself, “You’re gettin’ jumpy. Get a hold of yourself. What would Junior say?”
The last revelation made his insides burn with shame and regret. He hadn’t wanted to kill his brother. He had to. Junior was going to murder him. Jeremiah couldn’t let that happen. He had a baby on the way.
Thinking about Brandine and his future child deepened his depression. Who was he kidding? He wasn’t going to be around to raise any child. He was going to prison, thanks to that stupid detective. Jeremiah felt his depression morph into rage. Stallworth was going to pay for what he’d done. If Jeremiah was going to jail for murder, he had nothing left to lose.
A noise in front of the trailer caught his attention, so he grabbed his binoculars and scanned the area again. Three more police cars pulled up, flanking the detective’s car.
“Damn!” he spat. He’d hoped he’d get a clean shot at Stallworth and at least get a day or two before they drove him out of the woods. He knew the area better than anyone, and he had a multitude of places he could hide. He’d stashed supplies here and there to facilitate his escape. No matter now, he thought. He was going to take care of business whether the whole world looked on or not. Stallworth was as good as dead.
Jeremiah set the binoculars down and picked up his rifle once again. He got into position and intently watched the driver’s side door of the detective’s cruiser. As soon as the man emerged—blam!
Another twig snapped, and he swiveled to his right. His heart sunk. Stallworth was standing less than ten yards away, his service revolver pointed straight at Jeremiah’s head.
“Looking for me?”
CHAPTER EIGHTY-SEVEN
Garland Vaughan stared out of the window in his office and contemplated his next move. The arraignment was imminent, and he was ill-prepared.
The detective had done an amazing job, without a shred of evidence to back him up. He’d also opened up can upon can of worms that would undoubtedly be seized upon by Douglas Lee and milked for every ounce of reasonable doubt that he could squeeze out of it. In the end, it would be the lack of evidence that would hamper them, unless Vaughan played his cards right.
“You wanted to see me?” the voice behind him asked.
Vaughan waved a hand, instructing the man to take a seat. Without turning his chair around, he asked, “What are we going to find out about Stallworth that we don’t already know?”
“We’ve dug up what we can, but it wasn’t that easy,” the man explained. “The files are classified.”
Vaughan already knew that. It’s why he called in favors. He needed more. If there was dirt, Douglas Lee was going to find it. It was imperative that Vaughan get it first.
“But,” the man continued, “we weren’t without resources. It’s not much, but there has to be more.”
“I know there’s more. That’s why I hired you,” Vaughan said. He continued to sit with his back to the man. It was better that way.
“Lee’s been poking around, too. He has his friends, and we have ours.”
“Again, that’s why I hired you. What are they going to find out?”
“Nothing they’ll use.”
“And how do we know this?” Vaughan hated this part of his job. The detective was on the good side and deserved respect, but when the shit hit the fan, Vaughan knew that Winchester’s attorney would stop at nothing to get an acquittal. Their entire case came down to Stallworth. If they could discredit him, it would go a long way to serving their purpose.
“Because no one is talking.”
“What do you mean? Someone is always talking.”
“What little we’ve got is all we’re going to get. Look, Vaughan, if you don’t want to pay me, that’s okay. I’d prefer it if we just skipped this assignment and moved on.”
That got Vaughan’s attention, and he swung his chair around. His only response was one raised eyebrow.
“Between you and me, there’s a huge cover-up over there. I stopped asking as soon as I started. Someone’s—”
“Someone’s what?”
“Someone’s going to get killed if we keep asking.”
“Someone?” asked Vaughan. What the hell did Stallworth get himself involved in during the war?
“I’m not going to follow up on it. That’s as plain as I can say it.”
“If our boy is the one in danger, this could be bad for him. Lee will pursue it.”
“I don’t think it’s Stallworth who needs to worry.”
“Then who?”
“Whoever keeps asking,” explained the man. “They would’ve taken care of the detective a long time ago unless he took measures to prevent it. He’s too clever not to.”
Vaughan nodded. He hadn’t known Robert long, but he had no doubt that the man plotted his actions ahead of time. Yet there was a restless streak in him, almost to the point of carelessness. One never knew when the man was bluffing. He kept everybody off balance.
“Whatever happened during the war, it wasn’t Stallworth who caused it. He discovered it. Some kind of deal was made. Officially, they used what he’d given them for Nuremburg, and they buried the rest. I’m not sure that’s all they buried, but whatever happened, it isn’t ever going to see the light of day. The detective stays alive, and the secrets stay hidden.”
“Can you guarantee that?” asked Vaughan.
The man nodded. “It’s bigger than Alabama.”
That’s all Vaughan needed to hear. He dismissed the man with a wave and turned to stare back out of the window. Somehow, the revelation made him feel better. If Robert could keep the competing interests of the various international factions of the Military Industrial Complex at bay, the legal ma
neuverings of a Pickens County defense attorney should be of little concern.
Yet something nagged at the district attorney. He knew that, like it or not, he’d have to breech the subject with the detective. It would be awkward for him. His military deferment to attend an Ivy League college generally made him uncomfortable when questioning people about their service in the war. It made him feel ashamed, as if he’d shirked his responsibility for personal gain at the expense of others.
It made him feel ashamed because he knew that he had.
CHAPTER EIGHTY-EIGHT
“Are you sure it’s okay for you to be seen with me in public like this?”
Robert joked.
They’d agreed to meet up at Samson’s Bar and Grill. Located a half-block away from the courthouse, the watering hole was a favorite of the county establishment. When Vaughan invited him there with the excuse of having a few drinks, Robert knew there was much more to the meeting than a friendly get together.
“From now on, we’re a couple,” said Vaughan. “At least, until the trials are over.”
Robert nodded and took a sip of his beer.
“Winchester’s lawyer—” Vaughan began.
“Douglas Lee,” said Robert.
“Right. Douglas Lee.”
“Esquire,” Robert added.
They both laughed.
“He’s been trying to dig up dirt on you,” said Vaughan. He watched Robert’s face, but the detective showed no sign of concern. If anything, thought Vaughan, he looked amused.
“I’d advise against that, but who’d listen to me?”
“Why is that?” asked Vaughan. “Why would you advise against it?”
“I’m sure your man told you,” said Robert. He looked at Vaughan and lifted his glass.
“He didn’t tell me shit. It’s what he didn’t tell me that concerns me.”
“He didn’t quit on you yet? Ask for a different assignment?”
“That concerns me as well.”
Robert nodded and took another sip of his beer. He set it down on the table and replied, “Don’t be concerned, Councilor. It’s a dead end. I work for the state police. If they can’t get the files, your man’s not going to. Neither is Lee. I’m sure whomever he sends will soon find out that it’s a fool’s errand, and they’ll switch tactics.”
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