* * * * *
The memory dissolved as Karen observed the situation unfolding before her. After a quick huddle, two of the men ran inside the hospital. The remaining two stood sentry outside. They reminded her of her father’s security guards.
Karen didn’t know whether to hide from them or run. The roar of an engine caused her to whip around. A third black sedan was speeding into the parking lot.
Karen froze as the car sped toward her.
Chapter Fifty-One
Lake City, LA
Amir regained his freedom as abruptly as he lost it.
This was the first time he’d been inhabited by a spirit. It was like being locked inside a cage within his psyche—as if he was standing in a cold cell with a movie screen before the bars watching himself viciously attack Anvil Head. Though disconnected from his body, he tasted the man’s salty skin, coppery blood in his mouth, and felt the tension in his neck and jaws as he held on until the man was lifeless. He spread his fingers around the rough unshaven skin of Red Wolf’s neck, helpless to stop himself from choking Red Wolf to death.
What have I unleashed?
Jhonnette had convinced him that bringing Kristopher Lafitte back to destroy his father was the only fitting punishment. She told him she could boost his spiritual powers so that he’d have the strength to control the baka. But Kristopher Lafitte wasn’t the only spirit who’d escaped.
The doorway is open.
While entrapped he’d sensed Melinda’s presence as well. He was unfamiliar with this loa, but being ridden was a two-way street. Some of her essence remained—a swirling static buzz in his mind. She was very old and had died tragically.
Amir found his bearings. He was speeding down Third Avenue, on a collision course with St. Mary’s Hospital. From the sound of Red Wolf’s phone conversations, something important was happening at the hospital.
That fight was no longer Amir’s. Without the girl, the plan was fucked. It was time to cut his losses; he needed to get the money, contact Lincoln, and get the hell out of dodge.
It was amazing how fast the situation had degenerated. Things had gone from bad to worse and from worse to shit and it was no use blaming anyone but himself. He’d have plenty of time for self-flagellation later; right now he needed to figure out the fastest route to the cash.
The hospital parking lot came into view.
Amir attempted to turn left at Guinn and get back on Highway 14, but the steering wheel did not obey his command. His body was rebelling against him. Amir was powerless as the car continued straight. His right foot jammed the accelerator to the floor.
The car entered the St. Mary’s parking lot at fifty miles per hour. The buzzing in his head was now a locust swarm. Blood dripped from his nose as he fought to regain control of his faculties.
After a short struggle, he reached into his cargo-shorts pocket and retrieved the switchblade. Everything slowed as the blade clicked open. The car veered drastically to the left and then hit a pothole listing back to the right. Amir’s eyes widened. He was headed directly for Karen Lafitte.
What the fuck is she doing here?
Their eyes locked. Karen smiled a knowing smile.
I won’t do this.
Amir screamed and buried the knife down to the hilt in his thigh, then slammed his foot down on the brake pedal with all the force in his body. The car fishtailed as the shriek and smell of burning rubber consumed him.
He missed Karen by inches, but didn’t miss the downed paramedics a few feet away from her. The car bunny-hopped the bodies and Amir was thrown forward, his head smacking the steering wheel. His foot found the accelerator again. An instant later the car slammed into a pair of black sedans parked in front of the Emergency Room.
Amir flew.
The next thing he knew, a roaring, wave-like noise battered against the sloshing insides of his gray matter. It sounded like he was inside a cavern behind Niagara Falls. Disconnected from his body, his whole world was consumed by the noise.
Someone close-by screamed. Then the earth-shattering sound subsided, replaced by something like a scrambled FM frequency. He wasn’t quite on the station, but could hear the announcers trying to reach him anyway. He strained to decipher the words.
“Shut…move…here…slow…careful…burst…back,” was all he got at first.
Slowly but surely, the blanks began to fill in like a game of Hangman.
“Clear…off his eyes…hemorrhaging…CCs…more oxygen…please shut…”
Whoever they were talking about sounded pretty fucked up.
“What’s your name?” A female voice cut through the static clearly. “Can you speak?”
Someone screamed, “It’s gonna blow!”
The air quality changed. Amir felt a strong influx of hot wind whistle through his ear cavity. He was rammed back into himself like a square peg banged into a round hole with a sledgehammer. Invisible arms lifted him and he was casually tossed aside, like he’d encountered a patch of bad turbulence. Except, instead of dropping down, he was keenly aware of moving on up to a De-Luxe Apartment in the sky.
Then radio silence.
* * * * *
“Just try to make him comfortable.” Words emanated from his left side some time later. “Don’t try to move,” the voice said.
Amir attempted to open his eyes but the burning sensation in his left eye forced him to close them immediately.
“You’re going to be okay.”
“Where…” he attempted to ask, but only hoarse groaning emitted from his throat. An overwhelming claustrophobia made it difficult to breathe. Amir couldn’t feel anything from the neck down.
“Shhh…don’t try to speak. You’ve been badly hurt. You need to rest now.”
Amir knew she was right, but he couldn’t rest. Sleep was the cousin of death. Despite the pain, he forced one eye open and flinched from the light. His mother’s beautiful face came into focus.
It was like seeing heaven frowning down at him. She applied a compress to his face and gently wiped away shining fragments of glass.
“That’s it,” Juanita whispered softly. Her expression was soothing as she stroked the cool cloth against his feverish skin.
“I’m so sorry, Mama,” he moaned. “I messed…everything up.”
“It’s gonna be okay.”
“No…it’s not,” Amir gasped. “Lincoln…”
“You saved him,” Juanita said. “You saved them both.”
“Both?”
“I want you to rest now, Amir. Soon you will be able to tell me all about it.”
* * * * *
Chapter Fifty-Two
Monday
New Roads, LA
Roberts’ face brought everything back.
At the prison, Roberts had offered Lincoln his hand, but instead Lincoln took his gun and bashed him over the head with it. Then he took Roberts’ car and drove to the Angola Ferry. Lincoln was practically home free, but for some inexplicable reason he decided to dive off the top deck of the ferry and almost drowned. Roberts was obviously here to finish the job.
“Help!” Lincoln yelled.
Roberts was on him in a flash. “Shut the fuck up, goddamnit!” He pistol-whipped Lincoln in the face.
The pain the morphine had subdued came roaring back. Church bells gonged for Sunday service in Lincoln’s head.
“That’s better,” Roberts said. “Why did yuh run from me? I’m tryin’ ta…”
“Stop and turn around!” Jhonnette commanded.
She’d gotten the drop on Roberts. Standing in the doorway, she had a handgun pointed at his head.
“Give the gun to Lincoln and kneel on the floor,” she ordered.
Snake placed the gun on the bed with a surprised chuckle. “So it was you all along,” he said, dropping to his knees.
Lincoln brought the butt of the gun down on Roberts’ head with as much force as he could muster. Roberts toppled over like a blow up doll.
“We gotta get the hell out
of here,” Lincoln said.
* * * * *
The movies made escape look so easy.
They never showed the blood spraying on the heroine’s favorite summer suit while she jerked I.V.’s out of the hero’s arm. They never showed the heroine struggling to support a man nearly twice her size as they limped, crawled, and rolled their way to freedom. No, movie escapes were infinitely more graceful.
Jhonnette was now navigating the rented Jeep Liberty toward Baton Rouge. The clock on the dashboard read 11:30 a.m. They needed to figure out their next move. She jerked the car across two lanes of highway and brought the vehicle to a halt on the shoulder. Lincoln lay in the backseat glaring at her in the rearview.
“Lincoln, I know you’re in pain but you’ve got to talk to me. The police have probably found your buddy back there and are most likely hot on our trail right now. We’ve got to come up with a plan.”
* * * * *
Before everything went to pieces at Angola, Lincoln had a very specific agenda. Now that everything had gone to shit, Lincoln was rethinking his priorities. According to Jhonnette, Moses was in the Angola infirmary, one of the most dangerous places for any inmate to wind up, much less a civilian.
How the hell am I supposed to get Moses out of there? And where the hell is Amir right now?
Despite the odds, Lincoln refused to believe that it was too late.
“Lincoln, I know you hear me talking to you.”
Lincoln regarded her silently. Jhonnette had shown up mysteriously that morning with information about Moses, claiming to be an ally. But what was in it for her? Sure, she’d saved him from Snake, but could she really be trusted?
“Who are you?” Lincoln asked.
“I know you’re having a hard time trusting me, Lincoln. Believe me, I do. And I’m ready to come clean.”
“I’m waiting.”
Jhonnette continued. “Lincoln, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you’ve been lied to and manipulated by those closest to you.”
“Like you’re lying to me right now?”
“I know you think I’m full of crap, but I’m telling you—you’ve put your trust in the wrong people. Walter Simmons is not your father.”
“And I’m supposed to just take your word for it?” Lincoln pulled himself into a seated position. “I’m getting out.”
“Getting out and going where? You won’t last two hours out there.”
“I’ll take my chances.” He grabbed the door handle.
“Lincoln. Stop. I know why you tried to kill yourself this morning.”
“What are you talking about?” Though he couldn’t remember exactly why he’d jumped off the ferry, there was no damn way he was tryin’ to commit suicide. Not when he finally had his freedom back.
“My mother was…special. She could read minds…and tell the future. A long time ago, your real father came to her and started something. Something that has affected your entire life.”
“You better start making sense, lady.”
“Your father resurrected a family curse to kill his father, Joseph.”
Lincoln laughed and got out of the car. He made it four paces before her hand caressed his shoulder.
“There are no coincidences, Lincoln. If you hear nothing else I say, hear that. Your father knew this the moment he learned Karen had been kidnapped…”
She’s lying. She’s lying.
“He tried to ignore the curse even after his father, and then his son, succumbed…”
No!
“I had to come save you before Randy found out about you, Lincoln…”
No!
Lincoln grabbed Jhonnette by the throat and slammed her against the Jeep. He resisted the urge to crush her larnyx, to stop her from uttering these lies. Her words were impossible.
“Stop it, Lincoln!” Jhonnette screamed. “You’re hurting me!”
Lincoln let go. They stared at each other, each out of breath.
Jhonnette broke the silence. “Lincoln, three days after a member of the Lafitte family turns eighteen, someone dies. You have Lafitte blood in your veins. If you want to live, you’re going to have to make a choice.”
Lincoln felt like he was going to faint. “And how do you know all this?”
“Your mother wasn’t the only woman ruined by Randy Lafitte’s ruthless ambition. He ruined my mother as well, and I’ve committed my life to making him pay. I uncovered the truth about you during my research.”
Lincoln stared ahead in stunned silence. Could this be true?
“If you don’t believe me, that’s on you,” Jhonnette continued. “But the fact remains Karen Lafitte turned eighteen two days ago.”
“So?”
“So, Karen’s birthday started the clock. And Lincoln, things have changed. The curse has gained strength. Normally, one person’s death is enough, but not this time. It’s being fed by someone.”
“Who?”
Jhonnette looked away. “That’s what I don’t know. What I do know is that Moses didn’t come to Angola for you.”
“You’re not making any sense!”
“You can run away from your destiny, Lincoln, but if you do nothing, a lot of people are going to die today.”
“I don’t give a damn about that family. Let them all die.”
“That family is your family too, Lincoln. Don’t you understand? You are at risk as well.”
Lincoln examined Jhonnette carefully. She sounded crazy, but if she was telling the truth, it changed everything.
Kris was my…brother?
It was too much for Lincoln to handle. His mind was closing. “Even if I did believe you, it’s too late to do anything now, right?”
“Focus, Lincoln. Seventy-two hours after a family member reaches eighteen, someone has to die. That leaves us with you, Karen, and your father. Unfortunately, it’s not your choice who lives or dies, but if Karen survives, then either you or Randy will meet death.”
Lincoln looked at her with resolve. “I ain’t goin’ nowhere.”
“You sure about that? You’ve been shot and nearly drowned already. Karen must be doing pretty well for herself. I can’t speak for the Governor.”
A part of Lincoln always knew it would come down to this.
It’s either him or me.
“Tell me what I need to do.”
“Well, you can’t face your father in this shape. You need proper medical attention.”
“I don’t have time for that!”
“Well, we’re going to have to make time. You have to trust me now, Lincoln. We’re on the same side here. Now get in.”
Lincoln gazed at her for a long while, trying to gauge whether she could possibly be telling the truth. He thought of Kris Lafitte trying to kill himself and remembered Kris’s warnings. He needed to get to the bottom of this, and Jhonnette Deveaux offered a path to the answers. Deciding to play this out, he got back in the Jeep.
“Okay,” he said. “Where to now?”
Chapter Fifty-Three
Monday
Lake City, LA
Bill Edwards slammed the phone back in its cradle. He should have exerted the same force when talking to Randy, but passive aggressive was about as aggressive as he got where the Governor was concerned.
“Keep things quiet for me, Bill,” Randy had said in that subtle Machiavellian way of his. “Keep things quiet and reap the rewards for your loyalty.”
That was Randy’s standard line whenever he needed one of his “favors,” and Bill had definitely been compensated well for his discretion over the years. This time, however, the risk was not worth the reward.
“Today is going to be a day of tests for all of us, Bill... Can I count on you?”
Bill paced the length of his modest office contemplating the answer to this question as the phone rang and rang. Every now and then it would stop ringing abruptly, only to start again a few seconds later. He had to tread carefully so as not to pull a serious C.L.M.—Career Limiting Move. Bill had not gotten
as far as he had by pulling C.L.M.’s. He was smarter than that.
The phone rang again.
Since speaking with Randy earlier, he’d called off all city patrols. He also had Dispatch routing all emergency calls directly to him so he could screen everything that came through. Dispatch packed his voicemail and he listened to call after call, writing the pertinent details down in his logbook. So far, this morning had brought in six cases of drunk and disorderly; two burglaries (one that turned out to be a dispute between two lesbian roommates up at Lake City College); ten car-related emergencies; and three fires. By themselves, these calls would have made the morning a doozy, but these were in addition to a series of other calls—the calls he’d been screening for in the first place.
One call was from Morris Fontenot, who was screaming over loud bursts of heavy artillery to report a drive-by shooting at Simmons Park. “It’s a war zone out here!”
Another call was from Evan Leday, a truck driver, reporting the spontaneous combustion of the old schoolyard. “There was a friggin’ mushroom cloud over that place, man!”
But the morning’s winner went to Ms. Beulah Boudreaux. She’d reported seeing the ghost of a white girl walking down her street wearing nothing but a Houston Rockets jersey. “One second she was floatin’ down the street and then there was this loud blast. When I looked up, the girl had disappeared into thin air.”
“Bill, the last thing we need is one of your guys trying to play supercop on this one.”
Easy for Randy to say. He didn’t have to explain to his superiors and constituents why he was letting a group of rogue FBI agents, kidnappers, and gangbangers run wild all over the city. Which is why Bill needed to keep a lid on the chaos until things were back under control.
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