Monarchs

by Rainey, Stephen

  He pulled her toward the bed, ungently, and then said, in a hard voice, "Get on your knees."

  She complied without saying a word. And she understood exactly why she was doing it, which nearly brought tears back to her eyes. But they didn't come.

  She didn't think she would ever weep again. Not ever.

  Chapter 13

  By Jan's almost-ebullient mood on the drive to Elizabeth City, Courtney might have thought there had never been a tense moment between them.

  As soon as they left Fearing, the merciless chill loosened its hold on her, and her spirit rejoiced at the prospect of escaping the bonds of the Blackburn house. Rather than engage Jan in an uncomfortable and pointless discussion about the horror of the previous night, she focused only on the promise of the future and her resolve to become self-sufficient again. During her online forays, she had found a couple of office jobs that looked more than half-promising, so after dropping Jan off at the hospice on Cedar Street, she set her sights on at least making a few interview appointments.

  Jan got off at noon, so she had four hours to make her ultimate decision.

  She drove several blocks along a picturesque, the tree-lined avenue, where the houses were very old and very large — and beyond all thought of ever owning, even if she secured gainful employment. They were for people like the Blackburns, and who knew what secrets might hide within these ancient mansions? Whatever. Right now, her foremost concern was getting out of Fearing permanently. If she could just nail down some job, anything that could get her halfway on her feet, she wouldn't hesitate to accept Jan's offer — if it were still good — to help with paying for an apartment.

  According to her directions, the first of her targets — a lawyer's office — was on Colonial Avenue, down near the waterfront.

  It was an hour's drive to Norfolk. A couple of more to Richmond. Maybe five to DC. How far could she get on the small amount of cash she had with her and a worthless bank account — in a stolen car?

  In the grip of last night's terror, fleeing had seemed her only choice. Now, the idea of venturing solo into the world seemed more daunting than facing Aunt Martha's Monarch. At least at in Fearing, she wasn't alone.

  Alone.

  It was a damned ridiculous fear, but one that had ruled her since the day she left home. And a horrible, shameful reason for having married Frank.

  She found the lawyer's office in a non-descript brick building a few doors down from the municipal plaza. She parked on the street a short distance away, gave herself a once-over in the rearview mirror, and got out of the car, only to freeze, her heart jumping to her throat, when a rusty, red pickup truck came rumbling by, moving at a snail's pace.

  An old farmer, who glanced at her and smiled toothlessly as the truck chugged past.

  "Dammit," she muttered, one fist clenching. She steadied herself with a hand on the roof of the Jaguar until her heart stopped pounding. Then she smoothed her skirt, tugged the bottom of her lightweight linen blazer to straighten it, and headed for the office door, still feeling ill at ease and a little frumpy in clothes two seasons old.

  For Christ's sake. Who in this town would even notice?

  Drawing herself up and dragging forth the confident businesswoman who seemed to have taken an unwelcome leave, she pushed open the office doors, went down a short hall to a door that bore the sign "Bowman, Cooper, & Kidd, LLP," and entered a small reception area furnished with several uncomfortable-looking wooden chairs; an incongruous, antique chaise lounge, upholstered in a hideous fuchsia; and a huge wooden desk, presumably the receptionist's, presently vacant. Several spidery ficus plants congregated in the corners, and above the chaise lounge hung an ancient, Rockwell-esque painting of an Elizabeth City street corner that would have made David gag. The room smelled of hardwood floor varnish, flowery perfume, and an old man's hair tonic.

  After a long minute, a rotund, fifty-ish woman with battleship gray hair and glistening, oily skin waddled in through a swinging door and settled herself behind the desk with the grace of an arthritic bulldog. Only after she had taken a few relieved breaths and given her short, dull fingernails a thorough examination did her topaz eyes peer over the top of her 1960s-vintage horn-rimmed glasses and acknowledge Courtney's presence. "May I help you?" Her voice was the croak of a longtime smoker.

  "Hi. I've come about the office manager's position. I submitted my resume online, but I thought I'd stop by in person and see if I could set up an interview."

  The woman's eyes retreated behind the thick lenses so they could scan a couple of stacks of paper on the corner of her desk. She picked up a sheet, stared at it as if uncertain whether it was quite the ticket, and finally handed it to Courtney. "I'll let you fill out an application. Which one are you, anyway?"

  "Edmiston. Courtney Edmiston." She took the application form, which had questions front and back, set in type smaller than an IRS tax form's. The woman flipped through a number of papers, found the one she wanted, read over it, and then peered back over the top of her glasses. "You the one from Fearing?"

  "Yes." She felt obliged to add, "But only temporarily."

  "Wait here a second." With a groan to emphasize how inconvenient she found all this, the woman rose again from her seat and disappeared through the door, which obviously led to the offices in the rear. Courtney sat down in one of the hard-backed chairs and began filling in her information. She had completed half the front page when the receptionist shambled back in and held up her hand like a teacher looking to nab her students' attention.

  "Never mind. The job's been filled."

  "What?"

  "Might as well not bother with that. I didn't realize we'd already hired someone."

  "Oh," Courtney said, unable to conceal a grimace of dismay.

  "Sorry."

  She nodded and rose from her chair. Spying a metal trashcan beside the desk, she wadded up the application form and, with complete disregard for decorum, tossed it across the room. It dropped into the can with a rattle. She felt herself scowling at the woman with too-obvious contempt but did nothing to soften it. "You should update your Web site."

  "Mr. Kidd manages it in his spare time. I guess he's been busy."

  "Apparently."

  "I'm sorry."

  Without another word, Courtney turned and left the office, her face burning with a rage that had no business surfacing so easily.

  Calm down. It's nothing more than unfortunate timing.

  But it wasn't. Surely, the receptionist would have known from the start whether the position had already been filled. It was learning of Courtney's current residence that had prompted the woman — or her superiors — to terminate the application.

  At any other time in her life, she would have dismissed such a notion as paranoid. Now, it was difficult not to believe that some insidious hand was manipulating circumstances against her.

  Outside, the air had turned chilly again, or so it seemed to her. She started back toward the car, trying to remember the address of her next target — an insurance office, somewhere on Water Street, not far away. As she walked, though, the library building just beyond the municipal plaza caught her eye, and on a whim, she veered toward it and went in through the main doors. The distinctive smell of pulp and glue sent her mind back a dozen years, to happier days when she frequented the library at Duke — which was probably the last time she had set foot in one.

  Two women stood at the main counter, though Courtney saw only a handful of patrons. Putting on her most confident smile, she strode toward the nearest of the women, a tall, pleasant-looking redhead in her mid-forties, conservatively dressed. The woman smiled in return. "Hi. May I help you?"

  "Hello," Courtney said, making a mental note to create some business cards on Jan's computer so she'd have something to hand out besides a copy of her resume. "I'm new to the area, and I'm wondering if the library is doing in any hiring."

  The woman glanced her partner, a younger, rather pudgy blonde, who smiled but shrugged with e
vident regret. "I don't think we are right now. We were looking for a purchasing agent a while back, but we've already hired someone. What kind of work are you looking for?"

  "I'd really like to get into an administrative position. I have extensive customer service, accounting, and bookkeeping experience."

  "You're probably overqualified for anything we might have, even if we were hiring. You'd need to talk to our director, Mr. Hobbs, but he's not in today."

  The dreaded "overqualified." She despised hearing the word. "Could I leave a resume? I'd be happy to fill out an application, too."

  "Goodness, I don't know if we have any up here. I'll have to look."

  The blonde woman gave her a sympathetic smile. "You say you've just moved here?"

  "Well, I'm in Fearing right now. I expect to be moving very soon, though."

  The red-haired librarian, who had bent to search a shelf under the counter abruptly straightened, her warm eyes cooling. "I don't have any forms here just now. I'd recommend you come back another time and ask for Mr. Hobbs."

  Courtney could feel the crestfallen mask sliding down over her face. She held up a copy of her resume and asked, "May I leave this with you?"

  "If you like, but you'd be better off giving a copy to Mr. Hobbs directly."

  "Please." She thrust the sheet of paper toward the woman, who took it reluctantly, her expression indicating she didn't particularly care to touch it. Courtney realized that it was unlikely her resume would ever reach Mr. Hobbs's hands.

  Forcing herself to hold her temper, she stepped back from the counter and looked around at the bookshelves lining the aisles. Something occurred to her then, and she wondered why she hadn't thought of it before.

  "You have computers with internet access, right?"

  The librarian's smile returned and she pointed to a glass-walled partition to the right. "Yes, ma'am. Right in there. I'll need you to sign in here, please."

  Courtney scribbled her name, affirming that she would abide by the library's usage policy, and then went to one of the desks with a free computer. She opened the Google search page and entered "Blackburn, Fearing, NC" into the search field.

  The top entries came from the Fearing Weekly Observer, the only newspaper published in the town. The first entry linked to the newspaper's online archives, and from there, she found a number of articles concerning the family that had taken her in. She began reading, starting with the most recent and working her way into the past.

  Elizabeth City Man Killed in Accident in Fearing

  Phillip Trull, an Elizabeth City native, was killed Saturday when his Buick Regal left the road and flipped several times. According to Fearing Police Chief Roger Flythe, Trull was traveling on Owen Swamp Road at about 11:00 pm when the accident occurred. Chief Flythe has not indicated whether alcohol was involved in the crash.

  A witness, Martha Blackburn, told police that Trull was driving erratically, at a high rate of speed. "As if something were chasing him," the witness stated.

  According to Ms. Blackburn, Trull had been visiting her niece, Jan Blackburn, prior to the accident. Ironically, less than a month earlier, Herbert and Patricia Blackburn, parents of Jan, were killed in wreck in virtually the same spot. Martha Blackburn was also involved in that accident but suffered no serious injuries.

  Trull, 31, was the former owner of T & B Sporting Goods in Elizabeth City, which had gone out of business only a few weeks prior to his death. He is survived by his parents, Roland and Wanda Trull, of Edenton, and two sisters, Mrs. Sharon Trull Murphy and Mrs. Lori Trull Wilson, both of Greenville.

  Leading Fearing Businessman and Wife Killed in Auto Accident

  Moratok County's wealthiest and most controversial entrepreneur, Herbert Blackburn, 66, and his wife, Patricia, 61, were killed Friday when the vehicle in which they were traveling left the road and struck a tree in the nearby woods.

  The accident occurred on Owen Swamp Road about 10:30 pm, said Fearing Police Chief Roger Flythe.

  Herbert Blackburn's aunt, Martha Blackburn, also in the vehicle, survived without serious injury. She was treated at Albemarle Hospital in Elizabeth City and released.

  Ms. Blackburn, also of Fearing, stated that a tire must have blown on the Cadillac DTS, causing the car to swerve out of control and crash into a large tree. The two victims were thrown through the windshield and probably killed on impact, Flythe said.

  Herbert Blackburn was well known as the founder of numerous Fearing enterprises over a forty-year period. During the 1970s, Blackburn Farms, Inc., became Moratok County's largest employer, though it was troubled by years of controversy over the legitimacy of certain of the Blackburn family's agricultural holdings.

  Mr. and Mrs. Blackburn are survived by their son, David, and daughter, Jan, also of Fearing.

  Worker Killed in Accident at Blackburn Farms

  Clayton Surber, 64, of Fearing, was killed Monday in an accident at Blackburn Farms, Inc., where he was employed. Witnesses indicated that Surber ran into the path of a corn harvester, which struck and fatally injured him, about 6:15 pm. He was pronounced dead at Albemarle Hospital in Elizabeth City at 7:00 pm.

  The victim's son, Dwayne, and grandson, Henry, were also working at the site when the accident occurred. Dwayne Surber witnessed the accident from another harvester and rushed to his father's aid. However, the victim was already in shock from severe trauma and could not be revived.

  "A number of people saw the accident happen, but no one knows what prompted Mr. Surber to run into the path of the harvester," said Herbert Blackburn, owner and CEO of Blackburn Farms, Inc. Blackburn indicated that Surber had been employed by the company for 18 years and was due to retire in less than a month.

  Two witnesses who asked to remain anonymous stated that there had been friction between Surber and Blackburn for some time, though neither suggested that foul play was involved.

  "We have no reason to believe this was anything other than a tragic accident," Moratok County Sheriff Donald Eaton said. According to Eaton, the Occupational Safety and Health Administration is investigating the accident.

  "Of course, the victim's family is very upset, particularly Dwayne, who saw it happen," Eaton said.

  The work site, just west of Fearing, was closed for the rest of the day following the accident.

  "It's terrible tragedy, and I feel for the family," Herbert Blackburn told reporters. "However, this will have no impact on our production schedule, which we are committed to upholding."

  Courtney realized she was staring vacantly at the computer screen only when her eyes began to blur and burn. The ordinary silence of the library had become an overwhelming void, and she tapped her fingernails on the tabletop, just to make sure her ears were still working properly.

  So Martha had been in the car with Jan's mom and dad, yet she had survived the wreck with barely a scratch.

  And she had witnessed Phillip Trull's death.

  Courtney could envision the old woman telling the police that Trull thought something was chasing him, gleefully aware that no one would even think of taking her at her word.

  Suddenly, she wanted to see exactly where these accidents had occurred. She didn't know where Owen Swamp Road was, but there was obviously a connection to Arlene's original family.

  She went to the Google map site and entered Fearing, NC, into the search field. When the map appeared, she zoomed in on the town and quickly located Owen Swamp Road. It looked to be a tiny lane that connected Winfall Road, where the Blackburns lived, to the western arm of old U.S. Highway 17. Conceivably, someone driving between the Blackburns' house and Elizabeth City might use it as a shortcut. Now she remembered where the road was; she had passed it each time she had traveled to or from the Blackburns' house.

  What in God's name would Martha have been doing out there in the middle of the night?

  She navigated back to the story about Clayton Surber's death. It had happened three years ago, with witnesses again intimating that something had chased him to h
is final fate.

  No doubt, that incident had something to do with the current trouble between the Surbers and the Blackburns. For all she knew, it might have started the whole sorry business. But no; the article mentioned several years of friction between the Blackburns and the Surbers.

  Some "tragic accident," she thought. If the Surber family had been extorting money from the Blackburns even then, David and Jan's parents certainly had a motive for murder. If Martha were loyal to them, then she might have taken matters into her own hands and performed whatever unimaginable tricks she did to affect people's minds.

  Had Jan and David's parents also been fleeing from something when they died? That didn't seem to make sense — especially if Martha were with them at the time.

  Or did it?

  On a whim, she returned to the Google search page and entered "Fearing, Monarch," just to see if any relevant articles turned up. Nothing, at least amid the first few pages of hits, most of which were stories with Biblical references. For good measure, she added "Blackburn" to the search string, and this time when the results appeared, one entry a few pages deep caught her eye.

  It was a brief article from the Greenville, NC, Daily Reflector — part of a retrospective of odd headlines from years past, dated July 14, 1971.

  East Carolina Professor Killed in Bizarre Accident

  Fearing, NC. John "J. D." Lees, a professor at East Carolina State University, was killed when he drove his car into Owen Swamp, just outside of Fearing, NC. According to Moratok County Sheriff Donald Eaton, Lees was apparently traveling at high speed and lost control of his Ford Mustang, which left the road and plowed some fifty yards into the swampland before sinking in over ten feet of water.