The Burial Place

by Larry Enmon

  Frank didn’t answer.

  Rob continued. “I know you like the part of police work that solves things. But it’s the other part—the violent part—that I’m concerned about. If you can’t pull the trigger anymore, that’s a problem.”

  Frank looked up. “Does that mean I can’t even be a K-9 dog whisperer?”

  Frank was dodging the issue. Rob shook his head and opened the car door. “Hey.”

  Frank glanced his way.

  “Sorry again about last night,” Rob said. “Didn’t mean to wreck your party.”

  “No problem.” Frank replied. “Anytime you need a place to crash, come on by.”

  * * *

  When the basement door creaked open, Katrina jumped. No one entered at first. She waited and forced herself to remain calm. The tension hung like a dark cloud over her. What was about to happen? A move upstairs, or another visit from the Freak? As the seconds ticked by and no one came down, her worry turned to curiosity. Katrina eased to the staircase and looked up. No one there. Just an open door. A test?

  She wandered back to her bed and sat on the edge for another minute. Finally, the sound of heavy footfalls came from the stairs—a man. She tensed as the stranger stepped from the last stair. Not the Freak. Medium-height guy with a full beard and jeans, the sleeves of his green cotton shirt rolled to his forearms. He didn’t have crazy eyes like the Freak, but he was probably one of the ones who’d kidnapped her. She stood and stepped a few paces away. Would he attack her? Had a ransom been paid? Was she being released?

  In an almost apologetic tone, he asked, “Your name is Katrina?” His long brown hair flowed past his neck, and the cap accorded him a bumpkin look.

  “Yes,” she said. “What’s yours?”

  He grinned. “Brother Luther.”

  “Is everyone around here a Brother or Sister something?”

  Brother Luther’s shy manner was disarming. He grinned and glanced at the floor. “Yeah, I guess we are.”

  Good, she had the upper hand. Now, all she had to do was keep it.

  “We’ll be eating dinner soon. You’ll join us,” Brother Luther said in a soft voice.

  “A little early for dinner, isn’t it?”

  Brother Luther crinkled his brow. “We always eat dinner at noon.”

  Okay, so the noon meal was dinner. Yeah, country bumpkin.

  “Follow me.” Brother Luther turned and strolled up the stairs.

  A rush of anxiety filled Katrina. She had hated this basement for days, but now the thought of leaving terrified her. Like walking from light into a dark scary room. What would happen if she refused? What was waiting above? She didn’t want to go, but the longer she stayed in this hole, the slimmer her chances for escape. She threw back her shoulders and lifted her head. Choking down her fear, she took the first step. She couldn’t allow him, or the rest, to know she was frightened.

  Katrina looked up at the open door as Brother Luther neared the top of the stairs. He waved his hand.

  “You coming?” he asked.

  The aroma of baking bread drifted in through the door. Katrina followed it. At the top was a kitchen that looked like something from the eighties. Gas stove, white refrigerator, and large sink and dry rack. Sisters Ruth and Judy were busying themselves at the counters preparing the meal while another woman stirred a pot. She had long brown hair and wore an ankle-length dress like the others, although she looked younger than the rest. Her frown wasn’t welcoming. Steam rose from the pot as she stirred.

  “That’s Sister Karen,” Brother Luther said, pointing at the woman.

  The young woman didn’t speak. Her full concentration was on the pot she tended. It smelled like soup. The bandage on the woman’s left ankle told Katrina she was probably the one who had had the accident with the scalding water a few days before.

  Katrina followed Brother Luther past the women into a short hall. Beyond it was a decent-sized dining room with high ceilings and dark wood floors, its walls covered with floral wallpaper. The cut-glass chandelier surprised Katrina with an elegance she hadn’t expected, and a large window to the left overlooked a parklike setting. A manicured lawn stretched out for at least an acre, finally ending at the wood line, and someone had planted petunias around the tall oaks and pines in the backyard. Brightly colored azaleas punctuated the landscape. Katrina stepped closer and brushed the window with her fingers.

  “It’s beautiful,” she whispered.

  “You’ll sit here.” Brother Luther stood behind a formal wooden chair at the end of the long table, his hands resting on top of the chair. He had dirty fingernails.

  Katrina slid into her chair and waited. The lengthy mahogany table had room for ten, but only eight places were set. A ringing, like a church bell, sounded outside. A few minutes later, footsteps and voices drifted down the hall from the kitchen. Katrina’s stomach knotted. Her anxiety grew as the voices neared. Sisters Ruth, Judy, and Karen placed pots and plates of food on the table. The two men who filed in next could have been brothers. Full beards, long brown hair, dressed in work clothes. They smelled like fish. Probably the others who’d taken her. Last came the girl she’d met yesterday, Annabelle. She kept her gaze down and didn’t acknowledge Katrina.

  “Catch anything?” Sister Karen asked.

  One of the men grunted. “Couple of blues and about a half dozen channels.”

  Sister Karen smiled. “Enough for a good supper and then some.”

  Everyone stood at his or her place, hands on top of the chair.

  Annabelle’s eyes bore in on Katrina until she took the hint. She stood and pushed her chair under the table, placing her hands on it like everyone else. No one spoke for several seconds. Light footsteps sounded from the living room hall and all heads turned. When he rounded the corner, Katrina’s legs went weak.

  The Freak stood at the head of the table. Katrina’s chair was at the opposite end. His eyes met hers, and a tingle crept up her back. The Freak looked at Brother Luther.

  “Would you bless the food?”

  Katrina jumped as everyone joined hands and Brother Luther grabbed hers. She tried relaxing as his rough, callused paw held tight. Her heart skipped, feeling his jagged fingernails, like those of the man lying beside her when she’d first been taken. The one who’d rubbed her breast and probed below her panties. As if he read her thoughts, a quick grin crossed his lips as his head bowed and his eyes closed.

  Brother Luther spoke: “Heavenly Father, make us thankful for these and all other blessings. Keep us safe from the Evil One’s temptations, and deliver us unto the light. We ask this and for your blessings and guidance for Brother John. Amen.”

  Katrina had bowed her head but didn’t close her eyes. The Freak at the other end of the table didn’t close his either. They stayed fixed on her. She had heard the old saying “blood ran cold” many times but never known what it felt like until that moment.

  After the blessing, they filled their plates with green salad. One of the women served a chicken barley soup with dumplings, and everyone ate in silence. Katrina had no appetite but went through the motions. One man ate faster than the others. Katrina didn’t know his name—he was one of the brothers—but he gobbled down his food and stood.

  “I’ll see about the children.”

  The children? Katrina hadn’t seen or heard the small voices and baby cries this morning. Where are they?

  “Thank you, Brother Lee,” Sister Judy said.

  Annabelle had an anxious expression as the man left. What was going on? Brother Lee disappeared down the hall, and moments later footsteps stomped up the stairs. Katrina had the impression everybody was watching her, even though no one but the Freak stared her way. A nervous rumble in her stomach made it difficult to eat. She picked at her food, stalling for time. As each of them finished, he or she left without a word, until only she and Annabelle remained. They didn’t speak.

  Annabelle stood. “We’ll clean up.” She began moving pots and plates to the kitchen. The house
remained silent. Everyone had disappeared.

  Katrina picked up some glasses and followed Annabelle into the kitchen. She grabbed her arm and asked, “What in the hell’s going—”

  Annabelle spun in her direction and placed her hand across Katrina’s mouth. Annabelle shook her head and her eyes bulged.

  Katrina’s fears had been realized. They weren’t alone.

  Annabelle’s eyes narrowed and her gaze darted in all directions. Then she cuffed her hands against the sides of her head.

  Katrina understood. The walls have ears.

  They finished clearing the table and Annabelle washed while Katrina dried. After putting away the leftovers, Annabelle threw her arms around Katrina’s neck and gave her a hug. The unexpected embrace startled Katrina. What was going on? Annabelle’s whispering into Katrina’s ear sent waves of fear through her.

  “Don’t be afraid of what’s about to happen.”

  20

  After dropping Rob off, Frank drove around for a couple of hours, thinking. He stopped for lunch—some Mexican restaurant he’d never tried—and headed home. He switched on the radio and took the long way back. Just before he made the turn into his parking garage, the news reported that there was still no resolution to the Katrina Wallace kidnapping. Frank turned the radio off. He needed to find a clue. A big clue. And if he didn’t find it before the Rangers, the case would be theirs.

  An hour later, sitting on his balcony, he scanned the downtown skyline.

  Why did this shooting have to happen now? The whole crappy incident complicated things. He worked better when his mind could focus on just one problem at a time, and the shooting had pushed him out of the zone. Everything Rob had said made sense. No use denying that. But Frank didn’t have to make a decision right now. After this case was over, he could decide. The smart move would be to quit.

  Frank stood and leaned on the railing, looking out over the city. There was just one problem. The job gave his life meaning.

  Frank fished the photo of Trina from his pocket and made a promise to it and himself. Whatever happened, he intended to find her. Nothing would stop him this time. He’d failed once before, but not again.

  * * *

  Annabelle broke the embrace and motioned for Katrina to follow. After opening the kitchen door, Annabelle stepped onto the back screened porch. Katrina didn’t move. The same fear that had gripped her during her exit from the basement now froze her at the threshold. Katrina trusted Annabelle up to a point, but she didn’t know her. What did she mean, “Don’t be afraid of what’s about to happen”?

  Annabelle’s eyes misted. “You have to go, or they’ll just come get you.”

  Katrina sucked in a breath and stepped onto the porch, her legs wobbly. Annabelle opened the screen door leading into the backyard and held it for her. Katrina’s stomach flipped as she stepped outside. Filtered sunlight crept through the branches and the sweet smell of honeysuckle drifted on the breeze. Katrina’s anxiety lessened a bit as she walked across the soft Saint Augustine grass. It felt like carpet.

  “Over here,” Brother Luther called.

  Katrina glanced to her right. He stood in the shade of an ancient oak, holding a rabbit in his arms. She looked at Annabelle, who frowned, arms crossed, and took a step back. A feeling of anxiety coursed through Katrina. She sensed a trap. Looking in all directions, she approached Brother Luther. He was leaning back on the tree’s trunk, softly stroking the gray field rabbit resting in his grip.

  “You like animals?” he called.

  Katrina stopped well short of him. “I guess so.” No one lingered in the yard but them. Was this her chance to make a break?

  “Here.” He extended his hands. “Take him.”

  She moved a little closer and gripped the rabbit. The warmth of its body helped calm her. She cuddled it to her chest.

  Brother Luther motioned. “Come on. Let’s take a walk.”

  Katrina strolled beside him as he meandered around the house. Two huge black pit bulls bounded toward them. Katrina stopped, and the rabbit almost jumped from her grasp. Keeping a firm hold on it, she sucked in a sharp breath.

  “Don’t run,” Brother Luther ordered. “They attack anything running.”

  He squatted down and greeted each with a pat on the head. The rabbit fought to get away, but Katrina didn’t dare release it. Its heart pounded against her breast.

  “Follow me,” Brother Luther said. He tracked to the front of the house and around a bed of lavender phlox. She looked up at the white stately home with Roman columns and a long front balcony, thinking the place looked like the mansion from Gone With the Wind. Pink, blue, and white hydrangeas outlined the front porch, their smell filling the air. A circular gravel drive ran from the front of the house into the woods. The sound of a big truck revving up and gears shifting floated through the trees.

  “County road’s that way.” Brother Luther pointed toward the sound.

  They continued to the other side of the mansion, where a tall trestle of red antique roses climbed to the second floor. When they made the last turn, they were in the rear yard again.

  I’ve got this, Katrina told herself. She could break out of this place without too much effort. Now that she knew where the road was, it wouldn’t be that hard. But why did Annabelle stay?

  “That’s the garden through there.” Brother Luther pointed past a group of pines to a clearing. “And that’s the barn and animal pens that way,” he said, shifting his finger in the opposite direction.

  Annabelle remained on the screened porch where they’d left her. As they passed, she lowered her eyes. The dogs still trailed them. Each weighed probably eighty pounds, with tight muscles rippling below the skin.

  “He’s a nice rabbit, ain’t he?” Brother Luther asked, extending his hands for the animal.

  Katrina didn’t answer but handed the creature to him. He scratched it behind each ear. “Did you enjoy your tour?”

  “Huh?” Katrina asked.

  Brother Luther motioned. “Your tour of the place?”

  “I guess so.” Katrina shrugged. What was he getting at? Who cared about a damn tour?

  Brother Luther scratched the rabbit again and his gaze met Katrina’s. “Don’t ever try leaving.”

  “What?” Katrina returned the stare.

  “The yard, garden, and barn are the only safe areas outside. Stay where it’s safe when you’re out here,” Brother Luther said.

  Katrina took a step back. What’s he talking about, safe areas?

  Brother Luther tossed the rabbit to the ground and it raced across the lawn. He yelled, “Strike,” and slapped his leg.

  The dogs bolted in pursuit. The rabbit zigged and zagged, fleeing toward the safety of the woods and bushes. Katrina held her breath as the lead dog caught the poor thing in its massive jaws. The second one jumped and clamped its teeth on the head. A sickening squeal escaped the rabbit before it was torn in half. Katrina’s stomach churned watching the beasts growl at each other and wolf down the defenseless bunny.

  When she glared at Brother Luther, he squinted at the dogs, not making eye contact with her. His brow wrinkled and he gave her a hard, menacing stare.

  “If you ever venture out of your safe area, you’d better be able to run faster than that rabbit.” He whistled and the monsters trotted to him and sat. Blood and traces of fur stained their mouths. He pointed toward the porch. “They live under the house. Any sound, any movement, causes them to alert. They know your safe areas.”

  Katrina could have puked from disgust and fear, but she refused to give this son of a bitch the satisfaction. She ignored the dogs and marched to the back door. Her stomach bubbled with terror as a low growl followed her, but she didn’t slow her pace. She’d seriously underestimated this Luther guy—escape looked impossible.

  When she entered the screened rear porch, Annabelle was waiting. A tear slid down Annabelle’s cheek. What she said shook Katrina’s confidence further.

  Annabelle’s sorrowful
eyes met hers. “Welcome to hell.”

  21

  Rob moped around the empty house. He still missed Carmen. Since the kids had gone off to college, he and Carmen had seldom been apart, and their quiet, lonely home wasn’t comfortable without her. Too much time alone. Too much time to think. About the gangster he’d killed a couple of days ago. About the incident with Big Mike. About the possibility of working with a new partner if Frank quit.

  Rob twisted the top off a beer and settled on the couch. He was under no illusions. All the success he’d enjoyed the last few years had been Frank’s doing. Hanging onto Frank’s coattails had rocketed them to recognition by their supervisors, and now even the chief. And working with Frank held its own intrigue. He didn’t always follow the book, but he always got results. That’s why the chief had selected them to investigate this case. That’s why the chief had more faith in them than in the Texas Rangers.

  Rob glanced at the plaque on the wall for the Walker case investigation. It would never have been solved without Frank’s keen mind unraveling the dozens of clues and figuring it out. If Frank left, Rob would end up partnering with God knows who.

  Rob took a long swallow of beer as the realization hit him. One thing was for sure—without a smart, dynamic personality like Frank, Rob would fall back into that mass of great unwashed, unremarkable detectives. What he’d said to Frank yesterday, about how he should quit … A hot flush crept up Rob’s neck and spread to his face. Stupid. Damn stupid. That’s what he was. He sat there in the dim light until he finished the bottle, and the next one.

  * * *

  “You’ll sleep with me,” Annabelle said. “Come on. I’ll show you to our room.”

  Katrina’s gut rumbled. Welcome to hell?

  She followed Annabelle through the kitchen and dining room into the long hall. The whole place had an old bookstore smell about it, and the furnishings and decor had the antebellum feel she’d seen in the dining room when she’d first come up from the basement. Old black-and-white photos hung in a neat arrangement on several walls. Rocking chairs and wooden stools were scattered around the living area. In the middle of the room, some kind of altar had been constructed with pinecones, rocks, and sticks on top. A few leaves were scattered among the items, giving the altar a nature feel. The staircase wasn’t as grand as the one in Gone With the Wind, but its red carpeted steps had a sort of old elegance.