Family Sins

by Sharon Sala

  Leigh lifted her chin as she stared at the crowd. She stared them down until they began looking away.

  “I think we’re done here,” Leigh said.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Samuel said, and slipped a hand beneath her arm, then escorted her to the Jeep and seated her inside.

  Samuel led the way out of town with his brothers behind him. He didn’t speak until they were all the way out of town. He looked at his mother. Her jaw was set. Her eyes were clear, and her gaze was fixed on the road in front of them.

  “Mama.”

  She answered absently without shifting her gaze. “What?”

  “I am very proud to be your son.”

  Leigh nodded, squeezed his arm and then took a deep shuddering breath.

  He caught movement from the corner of his eye and quickly shifted his gaze. Her feet were on the dash, her elbows resting on her knees. She took another breath, covered her face with her hands and moaned.

  Breath caught in the back of Samuel’s throat as her shoulders began to shake and she started to cry—harsh, ugly sobs ripped from the depths of her soul.

  “Oh my God, oh my God, Stanton Lee, how am I going to live without you?”

  Samuel didn’t talk, and he didn’t touch her. This grief was for her alone.

  Three

  By a twist of fate, Leigh’s sisters had been in the crowd. Nita Garner and Fiona Tuttle were older than her and rarely gave her a thought anymore, but that was obviously about to change.

  Since Nita was divorced and Fiona widowed, they alternated their residences between the family estate in Eden and their apartments in New York City. They had been in Eden for nearly two months and, to pass the time, were redecorating parts of the mansion. On a whim, they had taken the day off for their own mini-makeovers and were just coming out of the local day spa on their way to have lunch when they’d been alerted by the honking.

  “What on earth?” Fiona muttered, as she stopped and turned around.

  Nita pointed at the woman in the passenger seat of the front vehicle racing up the street.

  “Oh my God! Is that Leigh?”

  Fiona gasped. “Yes, I believe it is.”

  They stopped to stare, and when they saw the two vehicles stopping in the street in front of the police station, they stayed to watch.

  They hadn’t seen their sister up close in years and were horrified by the condition of her hair and clothing, but when they saw the men getting out with her and realized they were her sons, they were stunned. They would not have known their own nephews if they’d passed them on the street.

  They weren’t the only ones who were curious about the racket, and when a crowd began gathering, they stood at the back out of curiosity. Then Leigh began talking, and when they heard the rage and the pain in her voice, and the accusations she was making, they left in a rush, frantic to get back to the family and find out what the hell was going on.

  The fact that the crowd was still milling and talking when they tried to slip away set them at a disadvantage. They knew when people began calling out to them that this was going to get completely out of hand. By the time they got in Fiona’s car and drove away, they were nearly in tears.

  “What in the world do you suppose has happened?” Nita asked.

  Fiona shook her head.

  “Who knows? I haven’t heard a single member of the family even say her name in years. Now this. It makes no sense,” she said.

  Nita pulled out her phone.

  “What are you doing?” Fiona asked.

  “I’m calling Blake. If he’s not home, he needs to get there.”

  “If you’re going that far, then tell him to gather the whole family. This is a mess that’s not going to go away soon,” Fiona said.

  “Right,” Nita said, and waited for Blake to pick up.

  When he finally did, his voice was terse and distracted. “What do you want, Nita? I’m about to take a conference call,” he snapped.

  “Get home. Now. And make sure everyone else is there, too. We have a huge problem.”

  Blake shoved his chair back from the desk and stood abruptly.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Leigh and three of her sons just drove into Eden in a rage. Someone murdered her husband today. He wrote his killer’s name in the dirt before he died.”

  “What does that have to do with us?” Blake asked.

  “The name he wrote was Wayne. Leigh just called us all out in front of Chief Clayton and half the town, and pretty much promised to send the killer to hell.”

  Blake gasped. “Son-of-a-holy-bitch! You cannot be serious.”

  “I do not make jokes about the family skeletons. Get everyone home. Fiona and I are on the way.”

  She hung up before Blake could argue and then dropped the phone in her purse.

  They rode for a few moments in total silence, and then Fiona sighed. “I can’t believe Leigh would think any of us capable of that.”

  Nita snorted.

  “Get serious. Father already threatened to do that very thing, and Blake and Justin backed him.”

  “But that was ages ago, and Father is dead,” Fiona said, and skidded through the turn into the open gates at the entrance to the Wayne estate.

  “Uncle Jack is not dead, and they don’t call him Mad Jack Wayne for nothing. For that matter, Blake and Justin have more or less turned into Daddy,” Nita said.

  “What possible reason would they have to do that after all these years? I don’t believe this. There has to be an explanation. Besides, our family law firm can destroy them in court. That could just as easily be the first name of a man we don’t even know.”

  Nita looked up at the looming three-story mansion and shifted nervously in her seat.

  “Leigh was scary, wasn’t she?”

  Fiona sighed.

  “Yes. With the scratches on her face and arms, and all that blood on her clothes, she looked like she’d been in a war, not to mention her sons were very protective of her.”

  “And those sons are absolutely gorgeous,” Nita drawled.

  Fiona gasped.

  “Seriously, Nita! That sounded incestuous.”

  Nita glared.

  “It was just a comment about their physical appearances. I didn’t hit on them, for God’s sake.”

  Fiona wheeled the car beneath the portico and slammed on the brakes, then looked up in the rearview mirror.

  “Charles is right behind us, so I guess Blake is calling in the family as you asked,” she said.

  * * *

  Blake’s son, Charles, had just turned twenty-one and was constantly teased by the family that he drove like an old man, never speeding. He was a stocky, muscular young man, more like his mother’s people than the Waynes. After he’d turned sixteen, he’d chosen to live with his father instead of his mother, who’d returned to her family home in Florida. Charles had his eye set on a future in the family conglomerate. As he pulled up beneath the portico, he noticed his aunts were still in the car beside him.

  He greeted them as they all got out together.

  “Hey, Aunt Fee, what’s all the rush about getting home?”

  “You’ll find out soon enough,” Fiona said, and led the way into the house.

  Within minutes Justin arrived, and Blake was right behind him. As they were pulling up to park, their Uncle Jack came around the corner of the mansion with a tennis racket in one hand and a bottle of water in the other. He was the CEO of Wayne Industries and their father’s youngest brother. It was the first day he’d taken off in ages, and it appeared the moment he had, they’d all left, too.

  “What in the world’s going on?” he yelled. “What are you all doing here? Why aren’t you at work?”

  “You’ll find ou
t soon enough,” Blake said, and led the way into the house.

  They went to the library because it was always where the family gathered, usually for festive occasions, although this was anything but.

  Nita was pacing in front of the French doors that led out to the tiled terrace, and Fiona was already nursing a whiskey and Coke when they walked in.

  Charles was pouring a Coke over ice for himself. He hadn’t thought much about the phone call to go home until he realized his aunts were nervous. Then, when his uncles suddenly appeared, he set the drink aside and stared. He’d never seen everyone in such a state.

  Blake and Justin had entered in tandem, well-dressed executive look-alikes. All the Wayne men took after their mother in looks, which was unfortunate, because their mother, God rest her soul, had been a skinny blonde with small features and a less than defined chin, while the girls took after their father—black hair, high cheekbones, pretty features and dark flashing eyes. Nita and Fiona had been coloring their hair for years, and until today, when they’d seen Leigh and that mane of wild, dark hair with only hints of gray, had all but forgotten what their natural color used to be.

  Jackson Wayne strode into the library in his white tennis shirt and shorts, tall and tan and obviously angry. “Well, we’re here!” he said, glaring at Blake. “What the hell’s so damn important?”

  Blake pointed to his sisters.

  “It’s their story to tell,” he said.

  Nita looked at Fiona.

  “You tell them,” she said.

  Fiona nodded. “Stanton Youngblood has been murdered.”

  Charles frowned. “Who’s Stanton Youngblood?”

  Blake frowned back at his son and then realized he was within his rights to be confused. Leigh’s name was rarely mentioned in this house, and Charles had been born long after all of that embarrassment had faded away.

  “He’s your Aunt Leigh’s husband,” Blake said.

  Jack waved his tennis racket over his head.

  “What does that have to do with us?”

  Fiona sighed.

  “Less than an hour ago, Leigh and three of her sons came into Eden driving all crazy on their way to the police station. When she got out she was covered in blood, her hair was all wild and tangled, and her sons were right behind her, armed to the teeth. She confronted the chief and told him that Stanton had been murdered. He supposedly scratched the name of the killer in the dirt before he died.”

  “Sweet Mother of God,” Justin muttered. “It takes you forever to tell anything. Just get it said.”

  “The name he wrote was Wayne. Leigh called us out in front of the chief and the whole town. She said one of us killed her husband and when she finds out who it is, they will wish they’d never been born, or something to that effect.”

  Justin wiped a shaky hand across his face. Leigh was his twin, and as loyal to her family as he was to his. Imagining her like that felt weird.

  Jack was furious. “She can’t just come out and accuse someone without evidence!”

  “Well, there is the fact that Stanton wrote our family name in the dirt before he died,” Nita drawled. “And there is that other fact that our family already threatened to kill Stanton years ago, so trying to claim innocence puts us in an awkward position. What I want to know is, what the hell’s been going on in this family that I don’t know about?”

  Blake frowned. “Are you insinuating that one of us did this?”

  Fiona looked at Nita.

  Then Nita looked at Blake and shrugged.

  “I wouldn’t put it past us.”

  The silence in the library was shocking. Someone in the family had finally said aloud what they all thought about the others. The Waynes weren’t known for pulling punches or playing fair. They’d been taught from an early age that success was worth whatever it took to achieve it.

  Jack Wayne shoved a hand through his shock of white hair and then pointed the tennis racket at Blake.

  “Call the law firm. Get Ed Beale out here ASAP. I’m going to take a shower. I’ll be back down shortly.”

  He strode out of the library, banging the tennis racket against the chair, then the doorway, then the hall table and then up the balusters as he went upstairs, cursing every step of the way.

  Everyone was looking at Blake, waiting for further directions, but he was too pissed to care. He’d had to cancel a conference call, which was probably going to nix the deal he’d been about to seal, and all because of his crazy-ass sister. He stomped out of the room to go call their law firm, leaving the remaining family members on their own.

  Charles was silent. He wasn’t upset about a dead man so much as wondering if this was going to become a media circus. He’d known his Uncle Justin had a twin sister and that she was persona non grata for shaming the family years ago, but now that she’d been introduced into the conversation, he was curious about her.

  “So, Aunt Fiona, what does Aunt Leigh look like?”

  Fiona shrugged.

  “She looks like a Wayne.”

  Nita shook her head.

  “No, she looks better. As much as I hate to admit it, she looked like some Amazon warrior standing in that street. She was always pretty, but today she was absolutely beautiful. Even covered in blood, she was magnificent, and her sons are all well over six feet tall and movie-star handsome with those wide shoulders, long legs and all that hair. I swear, they are something to behold.”

  “What do you mean by all that hair?” Charles asked.

  “Their hair is as long as their mother’s. Stanton’s always was, too,” Nita said.

  Justin had always been self-conscious about his lack of a manly chin, and to hear that all Leigh’s sons had what he coveted pissed him off.

  “They probably look like a bunch of hillbillies.”

  Fiona rolled her eyes. “Shut up, Justin. I’ve heard all I want to hear about Leigh and her sons. Someone murdered her husband. That’s what we need to be concerned about, and if any of you know anything about it, now’s the time to speak up so we can formulate a plan.”

  Charles picked up his Coke and headed for the door.

  “Well, it certainly wasn’t me. I’m just now hearing that these people even exist, so I hardly have a reason to want one of them dead,” he said, and left the room.

  Justin’s face flushed.

  “I’m going to pretend you did not just seriously ask me if I killed a man,” he snapped, and walked out behind his nephew.

  Nita looked at Fiona. “Did you do it?”

  Fiona rolled her eyes. “I don’t know how to shoot a gun. You’re the one who beats everyone at target shooting. Did you do it?”

  Nita giggled. “No, silly. I wouldn’t have had the faintest idea where to find him, even if I’d wanted him dead.”

  Fiona shrugged. “Someone’s lying,” she said, and walked out of the library, leaving Nita on her own.

  Nita glanced at the liquor cabinet and then headed to her room. Getting sloshed would serve no purpose other than a temporary fix to this horrible news. She was getting a headache, and needed to take one of her pills and lie down.

  * * *

  Bowie was packed and waiting at the helipad for the incoming chopper. He’d showered after removing his work clothes and unbraided his hair to wash it. All of his brothers’ hair had a curl to it, like their father’s. His hair was like his mother’s—straight, and so dark a black it almost looked blue, growing from a widow’s peak at his forehead and hanging well below his shoulders. Because it was still wet and drying, the ocean breeze was rolling it into tangles, but he didn’t care. He didn’t know what strings his boss had pulled to make this happen so quickly, but he was grateful.

  Word about what had happened to his father had spread quickly on the rig. He’d been working with the men on this s
hift off and on for about a year and considered most of them friends. One by one they’d gone looking for him to express their condolences. Bowie was touched, but the sympathy made it hard to maintain control over his emotions. It had been a little over an hour since he’d talked to Samuel, and in that short time he’d lost one of the most important people in his world.

  As children, they’d always known their daddy would keep them safe at night, and as they’d grown older, Daddy had taught them how to keep themselves safe during the day. He’d seemed larger than life then, and even though Bowie had grown bigger and taller than his father, right now his world was shattered. He could only imagine how his mother was feeling.

  All of a sudden Claude yelled down at him from above and then pointed to the north.

  “Bowie! Incoming!”

  Bowie saw the helicopter in the distance. And so it began. It was time to call Samuel.

  The phone only rang twice before he heard his brother’s voice.

  “Hello. Bowie?”

  “Yes. The chopper is landing in a few. I can’t give you an exact time frame for the trip from offshore Louisiana to Eden, but I’m guessing something between two and three hours. You’ll have to come to Eden to pick me up at the helipad.”

  “I’ll call Chief Clayton to let him know. Unless I send you different info, consider yourself clear to land there,” Samuel said.

  “Will do,” Bowie said. “How’s Mama?”

  “Chin up. All business. Taking care of Jesse. Ready to shed blood. Devastated. Broken.”

  Bowie sighed.

  “Damn it. Is there anything new?”

  “Well, Mama got a notion to call out her family in the middle of the street in front of the police station. Michael and Aidan and I went with her—armed, at her request. It was a show of force, but also a visual of a family united. Half the town was there. She’s given the killer the only warning they’ll get. She pretty much promised to take them down.”

  “Good. Wish I’d been there beside you guys.”

  “You’re on the way, and that’s enough. Safe flight. See you soon. I’ll be waiting, and don’t be surprised if Mama wants to come with me.”