“Pictures,” Angel said, taking an eyeful. She had carefully spread them on the plywood floor like puzzle pieces.
“What the hell?” Mark asked.
“Party photos of the baseball players. Primarily three of them, it looks like.” She processed each one. “Pictures of my mom, Aunt Lorna, and Aunt Izzy are with each of them.” Her finger traced to their faces. “They’re drinking.”
“Like a house party…” His voice trailed off.
“Each one is paired with a player.” The looked at each other. “My Uncle Earl said they used to date rape girls during parties.”
“That’s absolutely crazy.” Mark’s eyes were wide. “Were your aunts the girls he was talking about?”
“I don’t know. Then we have these pictures here.” Angel indicated the grouping to the right. “They’re baby pictures. This is me. There’s Lucy May and Bobby, too.”
Mark said, “You’re twenty-nine. The bus disappeared thirty years ago.”
“The bus went missing in September. I was born in June. The twins were late May. That’s about nine months.” She stared at the baby pictures. “My dad married my mom while she was pregnant. Doug and Lorna, too. This can’t be.”
“Shotgun weddings? They killed all those kids because they raped your mom and her sisters.”
“My mom is paired with Simon Hill.”
“That’s… I have no words. If Lorna had left you these pictures in the will, Izzy would have gotten them.”
She spoke slowly over the competing thoughts in her head. “Schizophrenia. In her mind, this was the only way. And she was right.” She fell backward onto her butt. Her blood pressure bottomed out. “This isn’t happening.”
Mark held her shoulders. “Until DNA tests are done, you don’t know for sure.”
She focused on the photo of her mother being very cozy with Simon Hill. “Rob might not be my real father.”
Chapter 47
Thirty years earlier
The driver had been ordered to the back of the bus. It still occupied the middle of the rural highway, miles from anyone that could help. Earl Blondeaux and his brother Wyatt boarded the bus, brandishing automatic weapons that Rob had procured from a recent deal. Earl could tell the players were scared, but no one was ready to be a hero. The young pastor slid behind the wheel as the police vehicle moved out of the way.
“Listen up,” Earl announced at the front of the bus while Wyatt patrolled with a flashlight. “Anyone leaves their seat, and they will regret it. We’re going to take a little field trip, and we’re going to ask you some questions, just like a pop quiz. You answer these questions to our satisfaction, and everyone will make it home tonight with a gold star.”
The bus picked up speed, eventually turning off the highway onto Central Road, driving near the house his niece Lorna would receive from Paulette as a wedding gift. Lorna was being groomed to be patronne. The land would go to her.
All of these boys were guilty, but he wondered which ones actually got the girls pregnant. Disrespecting a Blondeaux was enough to bring down the wrath of God. But, considering what these boys did… they would face a unique form of retribution.
Doug and Rob were waiting to open the gate at the perimeter of the prison. Both were eighteen and full of piss and vinegar. They were distant cousins, up and coming Blondeauxs who were entirely loyal to the family, although Doug wasn’t quite right in the head. The reverend parked the bus directly in front of the entrance of the prison. The engine ceased.
“Everyone is going to file out in a single line.” Earl waved his gun. “No one speaks or tries to run. We will shoot you.”
Earl kept watch as the boys, along with the driver, were led into the dark prison by Wyatt, carrying a flashlight. His brother and another Blondeaux kept watch near the gate for intruders and were the second line of defense for runners. He imagined prison exchange would happen much like this if it had ever been operational.
The players followed Rob to the exercise yard, which was merely four walls without a ceiling. The moon and stars twinkled with such light that the flashlight wasn’t needed. Doug and Rob stood off to the side, nervous and fidgety. Paulette stepped out of the shadows, meeting Earl at the center.
“Line up along the wall.” Wyatt swung his gun as added instruction.
The boys were frightened; some cried. They obeyed the orders. Earl made a point to look at each of their faces. He couldn’t pick out who had the unfortunate sperm. The prison was deathly quiet.
Paulette spoke to the boys like a drill sergeant to troops. “My three daughters attended a party hosted by you boys. My three daughters were drugged. My three daughters were raped. My three daughters are pregnant.”
One of the smaller boys whispered to the one next to him, but it was heard plain as day. “We never raped anyone.”
Earl walked up to the boy with his arm extended. He fired in the boy’s face, sending brain matter against the wall. The rest of the players fell away from the dead boy in panic, crouching and huddling.
“Stay where you are!” Earl fired three rounds into the air. “Do not move.” He paced in front of the crying players like a shepherd herding its flock. “You do not speak until you are spoken to. You are going to answer our questions. We will get to the truth. Now, get back in line.”
Paulette approached the first shaking boy. “Who’s going to tell me about these weekly parties where girls are drugged and raped? Will it be you, or will you end up like your friend?”
Chapter 48
“Can Simon Hill be my real father?”
Angel sat with her legs crossed, staring at the array of pictures as they lay on the plywood floor. She took snapshots of each photo to send to Agent Ruby just to keep her mind from going off the deep end. Mark gave her space, not saying anything. Every time her eyes welled, she fought against it.
“Mark,” she finally said. “Do you believe in nurture or nature?”
“There’s no easy answer to that.”
She touched her baby picture. “Do you think traits are passed down from the parents or learned through their environment?”
“Does your DNA determine your morality? Or do your experiences?”
“Could I have rejected my family’s way of life because my real father was a good person? The odds of me leaving the family… it makes sense now.”
“What if Lorna’s sick mind concocted all this? A reality in her head, but nowhere else?”
“The players' DNA wouldn’t have been needed back then. It wasn’t a thing to test at the time. But they might have Simon Hill’s DNA from later inquiries. Or maybe they can connect my DNA with familial testing. I need to make a call to Donald about this.”
Angel collected the pictures, placing them into the plastic bag. She shoved them under the plywood. They returned downstairs, where she continued to the front yard while dialing, pacing under the tree. “Donald, I just sent you some pictures. I got something. Can you talk?”
“Yes, go ahead. I’m opening the pictures on my laptop.”
“This is what my aunt wanted me to find. These pictures give every indication that my mom and Lorna got pregnant from the missing baseball players. Not sure about Izzy.”
“I see. But what we have is some candid photos that connect them to the players, and then pictures of you, Lucy May, and Bobby as babies. That doesn’t prove anything.”
Angel moved even farther from the house. “Donald, we’re all twenty-nine. Doug and Rob married them while pregnant. Lucy May or Bobby could very well be Izzy’s.”
“Slow down. We’ll need to run some tests.”
“I don’t want Ruby or Belcher to know. I’m not saying to keep it a secret, just don’t let on right now. Can you keep it between us?”
“I can swing that, but once we get anything conclusive...”
Angel finished the call with reassurance. She entered the house to see Mark waiting for instruction.
He said, “When this thing blows wide open, how are you going t
o feel about your parents’ involvement?”
“My whole life might’ve been a lie. Mark, you cannot tell anyone.”
“I won’t, I swear. For two reasons. One, this might sound selfish, Blondo, but I want justice for my grandfather.”
“And two?”
“You.” His eyes softened. “You.”
“Thanks.”
“My question is, what are we going to do now?”
“Nothing at the moment.” She found a chair. “It’s business as usual, but you’re getting a rape whistle, mace, and a second phone with GPS you can hide somewhere on you because they will take your cell away.”
“What about my gun?”
“You have a license for one? Did you bring it?”
“I did bring it. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to take it away.” Mark bit his nails. “I shoot at the range all the time.”
“You should have it. We’ll go see my contact tomorrow. I debrief her every few days, and you should come with me.”
“Yes, of course.”
Angel wiped both hands across her face. “So, let’s talk this out. Doug doesn’t like that he’s forced to marry a woman who’s pregnant with another man’s baby, whether twins or not. That’s why he treated Bobby and Lucy May so shitty. It’s possible Doug threatened to rat out the whole bus disappearance. Bring in my Uncle Earl. Or any hitman. That makes more sense than Bobby going nuts.”
Mark snapped his fingers. “Reverend Trevor is Paulette’s puppet. He didn’t show up late to the murder… he helped.” They thought silently for a moment.
Angel sat forward, leaning on her elbows. “They had to kill nineteen boys and dispose of their bodies.”
“A mass grave near the prison? Under the prison?”
“No. Paulette’s looking to build a church on the prison land. They wouldn’t risk it. Thing is, everyone was looking for them months after they disappeared. Cadaver dogs were brought in, but they found nothing.”
“Could your Uncle Earl have influenced that?”
“I suppose. He could have directed them to places, knowing they wouldn’t hit on anything. It’s risky, though. Those dogs can pick up scent over a century old. In house fires. Buried for years.”
“Can you find out what spots they avoided?”
“Doubt it.”
“This whole parish is a hiding place.”
The sound of a distant firecracker and something breaking on the front stoop caught their attention. Her phone vibrated four times, meaning there was movement on a camera. She checked her screen, but only pulled up an error code. “Strange.”
“What is it?” Before Mark could say anything more, the windowpane lit up with a set of headlights. She squinted. “We have a visitor.”
“Shit.” He moved near the stairs as if to protect the pictures in the bedroom.
“Go upstairs in any room except the murder room. Don’t come down until I find out what this is about. You hear gunshots, take a position and defend yourself. I’m serious. If something happens to me, they’ll have no problems killing you, too.”
Angel placed her spare gun in the back of her waistband.
Chapter 49
The grip of Angel’s spare weapon stuck out from the back waistband quite comfortably. The visitor looked very familiar, but she couldn’t place the face. While on the doorstep, she looked up at the camera. It had been shot out.
She met the man halfway to his child-molester van. “You took out my camera?”
“The patronne wants a word,” the large man said. He opened the van’s side door.
“That’s fine. I can drive myself.” Her cell began ringing. Shit, Ruby.
“Don’t answer that.” Another man materialized from the shadows with his weapon already aimed. He snagged Angel’s piece from her jeans. “Cell phone, too.”
Angel held it in the air.
The man turned the phone off, then put it in his back pocket. “You’ll get them back later.”
After she complied, the other man pushed her forward. “Get in.”
It clicked that she had seen them at the scene of Joe-Joe’s shooting. They were deputies in plain clothes. The second man escorted Angel to sit on the van floor. He didn’t explain and Angel didn’t ask. The door shut with finality, then the two brutes climbed into the front seat. They fishtailed while tearing down the driveway. Angel held on best she could while ruggedly bouncing on the way to their destination.
“I know you work for Izzy. What are your names?” Angel shouted over the noise. “Let me guess. The driver looks like Stupid. And since you’re not driving, you would be Moron. Am I close?”
The van drifted around a sharp corner, then slowed. The headlights shut off. She balanced on her knees to look outside, but the bumps and dips were painful. Fortunately, the visibility was good enough to see the road. They headed toward the Indian mound.
They suddenly stopped, sending her forward onto her elbows. She rose and peeked out the window. The vibrance of the grass rising up the twenty-five-foot-tall hill seemed mystical. A large Cadillac sat idling nearby.
Her dad - or Rob’s warning came to mind. “Is this where you threaten me with Delilah’s life?”
The driver named Stupid said, “Don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about. You’re going to see the patronne.”
“My grandmother came way out here for this?”
“You think she’d kill you at the mansion?” He laughed hysterically. “Just joshin’. She’s not gonna kill you.” The van parked in front of the darkened Town Car.
Moron opened the side door; then he and the other left her view. Her maw maw Paulette appeared at the opening. She stood there like a statue, resting on a shiny cane, encased in a nice dark pantsuit.
She finally spoke, soft and calm. “You saw my brother Earl?”
“Hi, maw maw. You look good.” Her grandmother merely stared at her for an answer. “You obviously know I did. Did he call to rat me out, or was I followed?”
A gun fired just on the other side of the van, causing Angel to flinch. The duet was probably having target practice by the mound.
Paulette huffed. “Boys will be boys. What did you and Earl talk about?”
“This and that.”
“Be more specific, dear. We have a lot to cover.”
The two chuckling men came into view behind Paulette. Moron cocked his gun. She said, “Earl was drunk. I was just visiting.”
“Malarkey. I don’t believe you’re really suspended, because it seems to me you and that lawyer are investigating something.”
“I’m just screwing the lawyer. I’m sure Izzy told you that much. I wasn’t investigating shit until Delilah went missing. I was asking Uncle Earl if he still had any ties to the family. If he could help me find her.”
“Was he able to help?”
“He didn’t. He doesn’t like the family right now.”
“But he talked.”
“He went on a rant about how Uncle Doug was evil and a pussy. He suggested looking at Joe-Joe.”
“Sounds like him.” She rolled her eyes. “Joe-Joe drove Lucy May out of your momma’s house and in with Trevor.”
“You sure it wasn’t my mom?”
“Joe-Joe took a shine to Lucy May while she was there. It was like having a substitute for you, right under his nose. Joe-Joe is so impressionable, and Lucy May wanted to be like you. To look like you. To have what you had.”
Angel laughed incredulously. “Lucy May would never… my mom wouldn’t allow that… are you kidding me? You’re saying she and Joe-Joe have a thing? I think dementia’s setting in.”
Stupid approached with his gun aimed. “Show respect. Don’t think I won’t shoot you.”
The patronne patted his arm with assurance. “You went to see Bobby, too. No one but Lucy May and Trevor talk to Bobby.”
Angel glanced at all of them. “You realize I’m an FBI agent.”
“Not out here.” Her tone was dry.
“I’m
sorry, is this not still the United States?”
“We’ve annexed,” Moron said.
“Why are we out here, maw maw? Torture?” She felt her legs growing numb.
“I just want a better understanding of your intentions.”
“Produce Delilah for me right now.”
“If she’s missing, I’m not responsible. And I would have no problem admitting it.” She appeared sincere, if not curious about why she would be missing.
“Forgive me if I don’t think you’re a lying bitch.”
Moron stepped in front of Paulette, punching Angel in the face with the gun still in his hand. She fell back onto the van floor. Her torso was pulled upright by the two deputies and tossed on the ground. Her cheek throbbed, but a touch of her hands revealed no blood.
“I held back, darlin’. If you don’t want me to go ape shit on you, start talking.”
“Okay.” Angel regained her senses. “I wanted to give Bobby his bear that I found at the house. I was curious about him - curious. That’s it.”
The men grabbed Angel by the arms. They dragged her toward the mound. “Help!” she yelled as they carried her up the incline.
“No one can hear you out here on your land.” Paulette cautiously, yet casually, stepped up to her with the cane.
The two men tied ropes around Angel’s wrists and ankles, staking her down, spread eagle. Her shirt vibrated from her heartbeat. The pounding filled her head, plugging her ears. “What are you doing?”
Stupid stood on the flat ground directly in front of her, pointing a rifle. She watched as he took steady aim. A shot fired, but she barely heard it. Dirt exploded in the ground six inches away from her head. “Stop!”
“Do we have your attention?” He let the rifle drop.
Paulette said, “All the things that have been happening… I have no hand in any of it.” There was no follow-up question.
“Who did?”
The rifle whipped up, sending another shot into the dirt between her legs.
Paulette shook her head, “Even you can see my daughters have banded against me. I’m losing control.”
Blood Parish Page 16