He drove past the post office and into the tiny town. Shops were closed, but tourists still wandered down the sidewalks. He parked the car in the shadows in front of one of the shops, and then waited. He could see the post office from here as it became dark. No one would notice him, and he could wait until he saw her approaching before he left the car. The time was ripe, and his luck about to change. He pulled a sandwich from the brown paper bag and popped the top of the soda can. Once he landed the sales job, he could quit brown bagging it.
****
Carol lay in her bed, fresh from the shower. Mom said goodnight and left to see Aunt Billie one more time before leaving in the morning. Carol wanted to go too, but Mom said they were to be in bed early tonight, so they could leave in the morning. Her new puppy lay on the floor by the bed on the towel Grandma gave it for a bed—and whined. Mom said not to let it in bed with her, but the puppy acted so sad. She probably missed her mom and litter mates. Carol squatted down and picked up the puppy cuddling it to her and crawled back in the bed. Mom would never know, and the puppy would be happier.
The bed pushed up against the open window; a light breeze blew in. Carol could hear the ocean waves, not like at home where the windows were closed and the air conditioner running. It felt cooler at home, but Carol loved Grandma’s bungalow by the ocean. The puppy snuggled and continued to whine.
Carol reached for the bedside table and the hand mirror that once belonged to Giselle and showed it to her puppy. She talked softly showing the puppy her reflection but still it cried. It had been fed and had gone outside to pee. Why did it cry? Then Carol wondered how she would feel if someone took her away from her family. In the morning, they would go back to Biloxi, and the pup would go with them. They might not see Lillie again for months. Carol quickly slipped out of bed and put on the clothes laid out for morning, then slid her feet into the new pink flip flops. Back up on the bed she unhooked the wooden screen and grabbed her pup and the mirror. She’d take her to see her mom once more before leaving. She’d hurry, and no one would ever know she left. She’d be back before Grandma knew she’d gone.
With the screen unhooked, she could easily climb back in once she got home. She ran with the puppy tucked under her arm still holding the mirror, her two favorite things in the world. The night felt heavy with humidity, but the moon appeared from behind the clouds most of the time. She knew the way to Aunt Billie’s, even in the dark.
Struck with a sudden urge to pee, Carol made a detour toward the post office with public bathrooms. Mom said always go to the bathroom before going to bed at night, but she couldn’t remember if she had that evening. Anyway, she knew where the bathrooms were. She’d stop on the way to Billie’s and then they’d see Lillie one last time.
****
The crowd seemed normal for a Friday as Billie and String performed a medley of blues music. She had a note on the piano with the order of songs. She felt like shaking things up a little tonight. She didn’t think she would be so nervous, but it helped her sooth her mood. She surveyed the crowd and saw no sign of Franks. She didn’t think he would come to the restaurant tonight.
Neil sat at the table with Sandy, and they talked like old friends, each watching the restaurant with furtive glances. Sam stuck his head out on the deck and surveyed the crowd several times. A man Billie didn’t know sat in the dark corner alone eating shrimp and drinking water. The waiter came by several times, but he waved him away. Probably one of the undercover cops.
The evening was muggy; the guests were thinning out. The sea breeze did not blow away the humidity tonight, and tourists weren’t used to it. Sam often made better profits on drinks on nights like this. Tonight, would be no exception.
The man in the corner finally paid his bill and stood to leave. That was the signal. The guests were mostly gone except for one table of tourists who had more than their share of alcohol. Sam would see they got home. Very few drove to the restaurant anyway.
Billie signaled String, and they finished. She thanked everyone for coming, then began putting away the mics. The bus boys rolled the piano inside. Billie walked past the table where Neil and Sandy sat and said good night to them, then headed to the bathroom.
Inside she found a woman she had not seen before.
“Ms. Stone?” the woman asked in a husky voice.
“Yes,” Billie said with a start, then realized she talked to the undercover cop.
She held up a tiny wire and after checking the stalls she locked the door.
“Nice dress. This should be easy enough to hide. You want to take off the jacket, and I’ll help you get this settled where it’s not too uncomfortable?”
Billie slipped off the jacket and lowered the zipper that ran up the back of the dress. The officer had done this many times, as evidenced by her quick action. The wire quickly put in place under the bra strap, the cop zipped her back up.
“Okay, don’t be nervous. We’re all around you. Just change your shoes, pick up your purse like normal, and begin a slow walk toward the post office. Smith, did you hear that?” The officer held a finger to her ear and nodded. “He got it. You’re good to go. No sweat.” She nodded approval and unlocked the bathroom door.
Chapter 43
Billie walked to the kitchen where she’d left her flip flops and purse. She nodded to Sam and String who stood talking in the kitchen. Changing her shoes, she walked out the kitchen door and into the dining room. Bus boys were cleaning tables and stacking chairs to mop the floors.
Neil and Sandy stood in the back near the piano with drinks in hand. She wondered if they had drunk anything since walking in the door. They appeared to still have the same glasses she’d seen for hours.
Billie opened the restaurant door and stepped into the night once again. She could hear the ocean’s relentless rush to the shore. No tourists tonight. She looked up and saw clouds rolling across the moon, causing occasional shadows. In the distance, she saw the post office with its lights aglow, and she could see the heavy mist begin to fall. Her dress clung to her stiff legs as she walked toward the light. Time to finish this.
****
The sandwich and soda long gone, Franks thought about a bathroom. He knew about the one at the post office. Did he dare use it now? Already 11:00 and the bitch should be done soon. He’d walk that way and see what happened. He could wait. He stepped out of the car with creaking doors and started toward the post office when he saw her—the little girl often with Billie—not her daughter, but a niece or friend’s daughter? She carried something in the crook of her arm. Why would a kid be out alone this time of night? The little girl walked to the bathroom door of the post office and pulled the door open with one hand holding on to a puppy with the other. She would be good insurance. Just in case the bitch decided to renege. His bathroom needs long since forgotten, he walked toward the women’s restroom and pulled open the door. The little girl stood in the middle of the room talking softly to the pup.
****
“I think I just saw Carol going in the bathroom.” Billie talked softly hoping someone would hear her. “A young girl who looked like my friend’s daughter just walked into the bathroom. I don’t know for sure. Can you hear me?”
It was a rhetorical question. The police could hear her, but she could not hear them. She had to know, and she walked as slowly as possible toward the bathroom at the post office.
Pulling open the door she found a man bent over and talking to someone. A large rolling bucket sat in the middle of the room with a mop sticking out. It must have been left by the cleaning crew. He turned and looked at her. Franks stood talking to Carol who shook, hugging the pup to her chest. A man in the women’s bathroom could be unnerving.
“What are you doing with her? This is the women’s bathroom.” Billie tried to remain calm knowing the police heard everything said.
“Well, Ms. Stone, we meet again. I just asked this little lady if she knew you, and it seems you are her aunt.”
“She’s not my aunt,
we just call her that.” Carol’s voice shook.
“Carol, hun, you should take your dog and go home. Mr. Franks and I need to talk.” Billie hoped Carol would do as she said and not be scared.
“I just wanted to take her to see her mother one more time.” Carol shook even more and looked like she might cry. She knew this conversation wasn’t normal.
“Okay, honey. Go home, and I’ll bring Lillie to see her.” Billie reached around Franks for Carol’s arm—and he stepped in front of her.
“No, I think she’ll stay for now.” He reached into his jacket and retrieved the paper. “I think she’ll watch her Aunt Billie sign the letter, and then maybe I’ll let her go.”
“You can’t do that. You can’t use a child as leverage. It’s kidnapping.” Billie tried to remain calm. Surely the police heard her. The wire in her bra felt like a boulder and sweat ran between her breasts. She knew if the wire remained, the police knew how things were going. And it definitely remained.
“Well, sign the letter, Aunt Billie, and your little niece can leave.” Franks’ eyes narrowed as he looked Billie up and down.
Billie could take it no more. “Haven’t you hurt enough children? Let her go!” Billie lunged for Carol and shoved Franks out of the way. He fell into the stall and struggled to get up.
“Run Carol! Run!” Billie shoved the girl and her puppy out the bathroom door. Then grabbed the mop handle and swung as hard as she could as Franks attempted to stand. It connected with his arm with a loud crack. Then she kicked over the bucket of soapy water. As she slammed the door behind her, she heard him hit the ground. She hoped the slick floor slowed him down some. She dialed 911 as she rounded the corner of the building that led to the backside. Where were the police?
“Aunt Billie?” A tiny voice called from the alley.
“Carol! Why didn’t your run honey?” She grabbed the girl’s arm and pulled her along.
“I didn’t know where to go,” she sobbed.
Billie looked behind her. The child still clutched the mirror she gave her and the tiny puppy. She had to hide her before Franks found them both.
“Be very quiet.” Billie put a finger to her lips as she talked and slunk along the side of buildings, then ran from place to place trying to hide. They ran behind buildings, peeking out each time before slipping to the next, then crossed the street and the empty lot where Meg used to sell her vegetables. Then they ran for the house. She could still hear the 911 operator asking for her location. Afraid Franks was right behind her, she remained quiet.
She held on tightly to Carol’s hand, and the girl kept up the pace even with her hands full. She had young legs. When suddenly Carol stopped, jerking her hand loose. Billie turned around. She found the girl reaching for the mirror that lay on the ground reflecting the moon as it slid out from behind a cloud. She had dropped the mirror that she loved so much. The puppy, still clutched tightly in the crook of her arm, whined softly.
Billie grabbed the mirror with one hand and the girl with the other and then sprinted toward the house she grew up in, the same house her mother died in, and the one Billie tried to set afire. She stopped, hiding beside the one tree in the yard, and instinctively looked behind her. The moon once again covered its face with clouds, and Billie felt safe enough to move on.
“Carol, I want you to hide when we get to the house.” She looked both ways and then ran for the house. “Now go! Take the puppy and hide!”
She watched as the girl ran for the end of the porch where she got stuck during the bonfire issue when her brother had to rescue her. She slid like a lizard under a rock as Billie ran for the porch. The screen door was propped open for Lillie and held in place with the stack of large meditation stones. She almost reached the inside door—before being brutally knocked down. The mirror slid from her hand, and she heard breaking glass. Seven years bad luck, she thought, and then wondered why that idea would come to her at a time like this. And where did Lillie and her puppy go? Surely the dog would help her.
****
“I can’t hear a thing, Detective.” The constable sat in his own car with the Corpus Christi detective. A light drizzle began, but they didn’t want to use the windshield wipers and draw attention to the parked cars.
“Well, that’s because she’s not talking.” The detective sipped his coffee.
“I saw the little girl go in the bathroom and now I don’t know where Ms. Stone is. She walked this way, and suddenly she just disappeared. I don’t know, maybe she needed to go to the bathroom.”
“I haven’t heard water running. I think this whole night is a waste. He’s not coming. He’d be stupid to come to the island where she lives. If he wanted this to work out, he’d insist she come to Corpus.”
“I haven’t heard anything in some time. I wonder if the wire is working.” The constable adjusted the binoculars and looked from the women’s bathroom to the post office and back again.
“We’ll wait a few minutes. It is early. She’ll show up.” The detective once again sipped the tepid drink.
****
“I knew you’d come here. You’re so predictable. You think I don’t know where your house is?” Franks held her down on the floor of the porch with his body weight.
“Of course, you do. You were here the night my mother died. You’re the reason she is dead.” Billie shook under the weight of the man who had ruined her life.
“Yea, I was there. The old witch tried to get away. Then she fell off the bed. Serves her right. All I did was ask where you were. I didn’t kill her.”
“You caused her death, that’s manslaughter.” Billie’s voice sounded like a little girl’s, and she hated that.
He grabbed a handful of her hair and roughly jerked her head backwards. Her neck strained at an angle, and he leaned down like a lover to whisper in her ear. “This didn’t have to go like this. I just wanted your help, and you treated me like scum. Now I don’t think it’s too much to ask for your signature on the letter I wrote, do you? Sign it, and I’ll leave you and the little girl alone.”
He dropped the paper in front of her without ever letting go of her hair. The letter said she knew him to no longer be a threat to society. He deserved a second chance. Nowhere did it mention he had killed her family or caused Giselle’s final stroke. How many chances did he think he got? She shook with fear as tears streamed down her face, and her nose ran onto the paper he thrust in front of her. She lay face down on her own front porch, once again a victim of Joe Franks.
The splintered mirror in front of her again reflected the moon rising out on the ocean as clouds parted. And then she saw it. The face of fear. The reflection of a face pained and scared and looking more immature than the little girl who hid under the porch awaiting Billie’s rescue. The eyes were wide and frightened—and victimized. She hated those eyes—hated being a victim—and she looked away. The screen door, held open with the stack of stones her mother loved, were within reach. The meditation stones that were supposed to help her heal were useless tonight. Or maybe not.
Letting go of her hair, Franks sat back, fumbling in his pockets for the pen with his good arm, the letter in front of her. She twisted and knocked him over—the stones fell to the ground and the door slowly began to shut. She grasped the largest stone and swung with all her might. He fell sideways grabbing his previously injured arm. The black dress slid almost up to her waist and she didn’t care. Modesty had no place here. She jumped on top of the man who had caused her so much pain in life and again slammed the stone into his head. Then, as she raised her arm to bash his head in, something grabbed her in mid-arc.
“No, Billie. Not like this.” She struggled to break free. She had him! She would put an end to this once and for all. But she found her arm held tightly—and reality began to surface. She slowly realized the voice belonged to Neil.
The lights and sirens in the yard were all around. Once again, she was lifted from a prone position by strong but gentle arms, the arms of Neil and the constable. F
ranks lay in a puddle of his own blood on her porch. She felt certain he was dead. He would not be coming for her again. And then he moved.
“Aunt Billie?” The tiny voice called her again. Carol. Safe? She sounded the same as the day of the fire. Billie turned around. Carol stood with the wiggling puppy still in the crook of her arm, her face smudged and dirty. A soft warm body pushed itself into Billie’s arms. Lillie licked her face, and then ran to her pup. Carol held the baby to its mother for comfort.
There were people all over her porch and house. The constable and detective were asking her questions, Neil stood behind her protectively as the paramedics looked her over. Franks was placed in handcuffs, even with a head gash and possible broken arm, and led away. String showed up with Sam and Raven; then Billie saw her. Sandy pushed her way through the crowd to her best friend.
“What happened?” After a big hug, she sat down on the floor next to the chair Billie had finally been convinced to take, and pulled Carol into her lap. Lillie once again nosed her pup, and Sandy rubbed her ears.
Billie found her voice shaky, but she could talk. “Franks followed Carol into the bathroom to try to get to me. He had a letter to a potential employer, and he wanted me to sign it. He not only caused the wreck, he also caused Mom’s final stroke. He said so. But he still wanted me to help him.”
“Ms. Stone, your wire quit for a while. Could be the moisture or something, but we did get the confession. Maybe when you fell, it jiggled something and started working again. I have it on tape.” The detective hovered over her as she told her story.
“I thought you couldn’t hear me. I said several things I thought would bring you running. So, I dialed 911 as I ran. I never did finish that conversation.”
“That’s okay, they get that all the time.” The detective tasted the coffee once more and walked to the door, dumping it on the sand outside. “With the confession, we can charge him with manslaughter, breaking and entering, and attempted kidnapping of the little girl in the bathroom. With his history, we should be able to make it stick.”
Stones of Sandhill Island Page 19