Sarah Booth Delaney

by Sarah Booth Delaney 01-06 (lit)

  "I'd like to talk to Ms. Falcon. Maybe explain a few things. I found Ellisea's so-called friend who vandalized her car. Like I thought, the little pervert thought he could blackmail the Clays. The truth will come out, but an expose isn't the way to do it. Will you ask Ms. Falcon to talk to me?"

  LeMont had the authority to talk to anyone he wanted. All he had to do was flash his badge. "Sure, I'll ask her to talk to you."

  "I'll call you when I get the answers on that DNA test."

  "Thanks."

  I dialed Coleman next. Deputy Dewayne Dattilo answered at the sheriff's office, and I realized I was relieved. Talking to Coleman tore me up.

  "How's Connie?" I asked.

  "Not good." The Sunflower County deputies had gone to a lot of pains to stay clear of the entanglement of my relationship with Coleman. Dewayne's voice was clipped and I could hear the discomfort in it.

  "Is she still in the hospital?"

  "Yeah. She's heavily sedated."

  "And how's Coleman?"

  "He's back in the cell with your dog. I think it's the first time he's slept in a couple of days. Want me to get him?"

  "Don't wake him," I said. "I'll call another time. How's Sweetie?"

  Dewayne's voice brightened considerably. "I think we need to keep her as the jailhouse mascot. Complaints about food and things have gone down nearly one hundred percent since she arrived."

  "Give her a pat for me," I said, mentally blocking the image of Coleman sleeping with my dog beside him. "Dewayne, I need a big favor." I didn't wait for him to evade me. Lillith's tombstone still troubled me. If Adam had burned his mother to death and erected the tombstone, perhaps there was a clue I'd missed. "Could you go to Pine Level Cemetery and write down the inscription on Lillith Lucas's tombstone? And call Al Jenkins at the funeral home and see if he has a record of who paid for that tombstone."

  "Is this a joke?"

  "No. It's important." I gave him the numbers for the hotel room and my cell phone. He promised to call Al immediately and check the tombstone on his way home from work and give me a call.

  I'd cleared the deck to call Hamilton, and my finger trembled as I punched in his number. He answered on the second ring.

  "Sarah Booth," he said, relief evident in his voice. "I've left two messages for you."

  Indeed, the little red light on my phone was blinking. I'd been so intent on making my calls that I hadn't noticed. "Are they good messages?" I asked, desire making my voice deeper.

  "Good in the sense that I'll be back in New Orleans tomorrow for certain. Sarah Booth, if your case is concluded, let's take a few days and go somewhere."

  "Where?"

  "I don't care. Someplace where there are no phones or fax machines. Someplace where we can talk without interruption. Bring your clothes. We'll pick a destination at the airport and just get on a plane." He sounded exhausted.

  "Did you find the Martinez family?"

  He hesitated, and in the silence I knew what had happened.

  "They're dead, aren't they?"

  "Yes."

  "And the people who killed them?"

  "Will go unpunished. I did everything I could, but Washington is a city of delay and prevarication. No one in power wanted to get involved. Peruvian politics are volatile, and this country relies on their oil. The lives of one good man and his family were of no importance here."

  As much as I admired Hamilton and his work, I wondered if I could bear such disappointment, and I knew it must come on a regular basis.

  "I'm sorry. I wish I could change things."

  "You have, simply by caring. That's the only way to change the world."

  He sounded a bit like Doreen. "I'll be at the airport," I said. "I can't wait."

  "Wear something easy to remove," he said, and there was the hint of mischief in his voice.

  Even though Tinkie had stopped by the Center to talk to Doreen, I decided to call her, too, just to double-check the payment to Kiley. I'd changed my mind about needing the files.

  "Is it true? Is Adam alive?" Doreen asked.

  "I think there's a strong possibility."

  "And you think he wants to kill me." She didn't sound convinced.

  "If he's alive, I'd say there's a good chance he's the person responsible for Rebekah's death. And your mother's, too."

  "To punish me?"

  "He isn't mentally balanced. You can't try and figure out what he's thinking. If he did kill Lillith and Rebekah, he's acting with purpose and deliberation. We may not be able to understand why he's doing what he's doing, but it makes sense that you're the next victim in the pattern he's creating."

  "I never even saw him. I never knew he existed. Why would he hate me so?"

  "I can't answer that. Doreen, what I need is for you to contact Kiley." I gave her the room number at the Hilton. "Get her to describe Adam. See if he sounds like anyone you know. Maybe someone who's come to you for healing, someone who's a regular client."

  "I'll speak with her."

  I glanced at my watch. The afternoon was fast getting away from me. "What are you doing this evening?"

  "I'm introducing Teko to the other kids at the Center."

  "Teko?"

  "He's from the projects. He had migraines."

  Great, so Doreen was now embracing a gangbanger. "And after that?"

  "I have a candlelight vigil on the Square. We do this every November. We have a short ritual and we pray for peace. A lot of people find comfort in the ceremony."

  "Doreen, you should cancel—"

  "No, Sarah Booth. I won't cancel it. I can't allow someone else control over my life."

  It was pointless to try and talk her out of it, even though she'd be a perfect target for a sniper. Of course, the person killing Doreen's family didn't use a gun. He brought death more intimately.

  33

  The crowd at the Cafe Du Monde had thinned considerably by five-fifteen. Michael was uncharacteristically late. I finished my coffee and was about to order another when my cell phone rang.

  I checked caller ID and answered, eager to hear what Dewayne Dattilo had discovered in the cemetery. The deputy was as good as his word, and incredibly efficient.

  "That's a mighty fine headstone," Dewayne said. "I don't think I've ever seen anything quite like it."

  "What did the inscription say?" I asked.

  "It's a favorite quote of my granny's."

  I wanted to jump down the phone and choke Dewayne. Of all times for him to be chatty. I saw Michael headed my way. He strolled through the cafe, easily threading between the tables.

  "What did it say?" I pressed.

  "It said, 'Born of fire, she perished in flame.' And then there was the biblical inscription. 'The Lord is slow to anger and rich in unfailing love.'"

  "That's it?" I had somehow hoped for more. In thinking through the case, I'd somehow convinced myself that the answer would be found at Lillith's grave.

  "That's it. Just the dates of her birth and death."

  "Thanks, Dewayne."

  "I don't personally believe that the sins of the father are visited on the children, but my granny sure does. She—"

  "Sins of the father? What are you talking about?"

  "The Scripture. The rest of that line goes, 'The Lord is slow to anger and rich in unfailing love, forgiving every kind of sin and rebellion. Even so, he does not leave sin unpunished, but he punishes the children for the sins of their parents to the third and fourth generations.'"

  "Oh, shit." I finally understood. My gaze was riveted on Michael as he drew closer and closer. I realized it was the first time I'd seen him in jeans. The oxblood turtleneck was a perfect compliment to the leather jacket and his complexion. He was a handsome man. Four women at a table in front of me simply stopped talking to watch him pass. He was oblivious to his effect on them.

  "Sarah Booth?" Dewayne's voice was tinny and distant in my ear. He was too far away to offer help. I slowly closed the cell phone and put it on the table. Michael was
staring at me. How had I missed it? The sins of the father. I'd come so close to figuring out the killer's motive, but I'd missed it by a hair.

  Michael had been the only person with access to Doreen's apartment, via Trina Zebrowski, who managed the apartments for Doreen. Michael had appeared in Doreen's life shortly after Adam had disappeared. As her financial advisor, he knew every move Doreen made. Michael had been the only one of the three potential fathers to try and thwart the DNA test, because he knew he was Rebekah's father. I'd been dead wrong when I'd told LeMont that the DNA didn't matter.

  I took a deep breath and met his gaze as he made it to the table. Michael, who was both Rebekah's father and Doreen's brother. The sins of the parents.

  I couldn't afford to let him know that I knew. "Have a seat," I said as he came up to the table.

  "Cafe au lait," Michael told a passing waitress without even bothering to look at her. He took a seat. "I thought I was meeting Tinkie."

  "She got tied up." I forced a smile at the pretty Vietnamese girl as she put his coffee in front of him. She might have been a post for all the notice he took.

  "Have you heard any results from the DNA test?" he asked, spooning sugar into his coffee.

  "LeMont ran into some problem." My mouth was so dry I could hardly speak. Somehow, I had to stay calm.

  "What did you want to ask me?" He settled back in his chair to a comfortable position, as if he had the rest of the day to chat. His dark gaze was devoid of emotion.

  "Did any of the kids at the Center have access to Doreen's apartment?" I had to make him believe I didn't suspect him. "Maybe they delivered something."

  He shrugged. "Possibly." His gaze locked with mine, and the tiniest smile touched the corners of his mouth. "I thought you wanted to ask me about Adam Crenshaw."

  "Doreen's brother?" I fumbled. "He's dead."

  "Is he?" Michael sipped his coffee, but his gaze never left mine. "Would it be a miracle if Adam had survived the cold waters of the Pearl River?"

  He knew.

  He still held his coffee cup. "I got LeMont's call. He wants another DNA sample. My time has run out. By the way, where is Tinkie? Is she joining us?"

  "Tinkie's busy. You paid for Lillith's tombstone, didn't you?"

  "With Doreen's money. Ironic, isn't it?" It was as if a mask had dropped from his face. His dark eyes held a tremendous passion, but his passion was hatred. The buzz and clatter of the people around me faded and there was only him, his voice. "Doreen is a slut and a whore, just like my mother was."

  "Rebekah was your daughter," I said.

  "Doreen tricked me. She touched me and whispered soft words. She made me believe that she loved me." He was completely emotionless. "I tracked her for years, knowing what I had to do. But then I wavered. I listened to her siren song. And I almost lost sight of what I had to do. But then Rebekah was born and I saw her. She was an abomination. God showed me my sin."

  Twilight had fallen, and the blue edge of night crept over the eastern horizon. Michael's eyes were dark pools, unreadable.

  "Doreen does love you, Michael. Nothing she did was meant to harm another person. She loves you and she loved Rebekah."

  Night was almost upon us, and the other patrons of the open-air cafe were leaving. In a few minutes we'd be alone. Michael leaned forward. He was so close that his breath was warm on my face.

  "Are you religious, Sarah Booth?"

  The wrong answer could push him over the edge. "In my own way."

  "Let me ask you something. Why do you think God punished Doreen by sending her Rebekah?"

  "Doreen never considered Rebekah a punishment."

  Michael's expression shifted. "You don't think so? Not even deep in her heart when she was alone? You don't think she got down on her knees and begged God for a reason?"

  "No, I don't." If I had no faith in the Divine, I had come to believe in Doreen.

  "You didn't see that baby. Every breath was a struggle. Doreen talks of a God of love, but God is also wrathful. He metes out punishment for those who deserve it. Rebekah was Doreen's penance, and she knew that. Deep in her heart, she knew. Her penance and Lillith's."

  Michael's words echoed in the chill night. Traffic streamed by on Decatur, but the pedestrians were gone. There was only one lone pair of footsteps echoing on the pavement. They softened and finally disappeared.

  My gut instinct was to get away from him. Fast.

  "Thanks for your time, Michael. I have to meet LeMont." My cell phone rang and I answered it, my gaze still linked with Michael's.

  Tinkie was breathless. "Sarah Booth, I'm with Kiley. She brought some pictures of the baby, and one of Adam. He's Michael. Sarah Booth, can you hear me? Michael Anderson is Adam Crenshaw."

  "I hear you loud and clear," I said. "I'll be right there. Tell LeMont not to do anything rash."

  "What?" Tinkie inhaled sharply. "You're still with Michael, aren't you?"

  "Yes. We're just leaving the Cafe Du Monde. Why don't you pick up some candles and meet me at Jackson Square?"

  "I'll call LeMont right away. Oh my God, Sarah Booth, just don't let on that you know."

  I turned my phone off and held it in my hand. "Sorry. Tinkie had to tell me something."

  "She's with Kiley, isn't she?" He brought the gun out of the back of his waistband with practiced ease. "I should have killed Kiley when I killed my son."

  I'd suspected that he had killed Joshua, but to hear him confirm it so casually made my heart pound even harder. "Why did you kill Joshua?"

  "He was evil. His mother was a whore." He lifted one shoulder in a casual shrug. "God laid a curse on him, just as he did on me and Doreen and all of our offspring."

  "Michael, Doreen loves you." It was difficult to speak with the gun pointed right at my heart.

  "Love? There is only God's love, but it comes with a heavy price. I've had to work hard to earn his love, but I've almost accomplished my mission. Isn't that interesting, Sarah Booth? Brother and sister both on missions. Doreen, misguided though she is, believes God sent her to heal." His smile unveiled the extent of his madness. "And he sent me to destroy the spawn of Satan."

  HIS grip on my elbow was firm but not cruel as we walked across Decatur Street and down one side of the Square. Darkness had fallen and it was early yet, but some fifty people had already gathered for the candlelight ceremony. Among them were some of the young people I'd grown accustomed to seeing at the Center. One of the girls I'd first met saw us, waved, and ran over. Melissa was her name. She had a tall black youth in tow.

  "Michael, Ms. Delaney, this is Teko." She tugged the young man forward. "Doreen healed his migraines last night. He's going to help us at the Center now." She turned to the boy. "Teko gave up his gang to help Doreen."

  Teko was a tough-looking kid with an insolent stare. My gaze dropped down to his side, where I expected to see a switchblade or a gun. I was hoping, anyway. Michael still had the barrel of his pistol against my spine, hidden by his arm and jacket.

  "Where's Doreen?" Michael asked.

  "On the cathedral steps," Melissa said. "She wanted to start there because she wants everyone to understand that her beliefs aren't in conflict with Christianity."

  "Melissa, would you tell Doreen we need to talk with her? It's urgent."

  The girl frowned. "She's getting ready to start the ceremony."

  "Just tell her," Michael said. "Now! I don't need your excuses."

  Melissa backed up a step, looking at Michael as if she didn't know him. She turned abruptly. Teko fell in behind her. He glanced back over his shoulder once. "Who's that man to be talking to you like that?" he asked Melissa. "Man needs to learn some manners. Got a bad attitude."

  They disappeared in the rapidly growing crowd. Now some two hundred people were gathered. I glanced around, hoping to see Tinkie, or better yet, LeMont—with a SWAT team.

  "Walk over to the side of the cathedral," Michael said, the gun letting me know that it wasn't a request.

  I started ou
t and Michael pulled me to the right, dodging another group of teens who recognized him and waved. "Little vermin," he said. "I'd like to crush them all. I'll have to settle for killing their queen."

  34

  We made it through the crowds and found a place where we had a clear view of Doreen. She waved at us but turned back to a cluster of women who thronged around her.

  "How did you find out Lillith was your mother?" If I could keep him talking, maybe Tinkie and LeMont would show up before he assassinated Doreen.

  "The Crenshaws weren't my first adoptive family. There was another one. They told me how my mother drank and slept with men. They told me how she ranted and preached when Satan took hold of her. They took me one night to hear her. She terrified me. I knew then that she was evil. Once I got old enough to drive, it wasn't difficult to learn a lot about her."

  Doreen moved to the top of the third step, the eager crowd spreading across the pavement and into the park. Close to five hundred candles burned. Plaintive Celtic music played.

  "Thank you all for coming," Doreen said. "It's wonderful to see so many people gathered here to pool our energy for a healthier planet."

  Doreen stood in the golden light of a gas lamp. Only slightly elevated from the crowd, she was still a singular figure. I started to say something and felt Michael's fingers dig into my shoulder.

  "Move!" Michael pushed me forward.

  I stumbled forward. "Don't do this," I whispered. "Michael, look at Doreen. She's special." The faces turned toward Doreen were filled with a soft happiness. "Look at them, Michael."

  "That's the horror if it. Doreen deceives. She has to die."

  I recognized a tall blonde woman headed toward me and I tried to dodge to the left, but Michael's grip stopped me. I almost cried out in pain.

  "Sarah Booth, dahling," Cece said, coming out of the crowd. She carried a golden candle with intricate designs spiraling up from the base. "I brought a candle for you."

  I was afraid that Michael would shoot her if I yelled. "Cece, get out of here!" I spoke softly but with urgency.

  Michael moved the barrel of the gun from my back. He eased it past my side so that he had a clear shot at Cece. In the press of people, I didn't think Cece could see the gun.