Blood Loss - A Magnolia Novel

by Ashley Fontainne

  “Which is exactly what killed Pops. He refused to leave no matter how much I begged. After the thirty days passed, he waited for them government bastards on his porch, shotgun in hand. I tried to convince him to move in with us. Hell, I even offered to give him some of our land, but he refused. Stubborn old goat. When one of the men fired off a warnin’ shot into the air to scare him, it worked better than they anticipated; the shot scared him to death. Pop’s heart gave out right there in his old rocker.”

  The bubble of anger inside Cecil’s gut roiled into a cauldron of hot magma. “What can we do, Pa?”

  Chester stared out across the field. When he finally responded, his voice was low and angry. “Buy every bit you can get your hands on. That way, when the government comes to steal what’s yours, you’ll still have some remainin’. Just steer clear of land in Ouachita County. It’s controlled by powers you don’t wanna tangle with. Expand on what I’ve accumulated and keep headin’ north…”

  …Sighing while wiping away the damp tears on his cheeks, Cecil shook the memories away and picked up the copy of the check for a little over ten million dollars. He felt no excitement, satisfaction, sense of wonderment, or awe at the vast amount once in his accounts. His father would have skinned him alive for selling out, especially to the man who’d coerced Cecil into the sale. There wouldn’t have been any jumping for joy at seeing his son such a wealthy man. The thought made Cecil wince.

  “Blood money. That’s all this is, and I never shoulda taken it! Shoulda manned-up and said somethin’! Told the truth for once in my life!”

  In a fit of rage, Cecil grabbed the papers, crushing them between his gnarled fingers. For a split second his heartrate skyrocketed because when he glanced down, he swore his hands were covered in wet, red blood.

  “Your chickens are comin’ home to roost, Cecil. Comin’ home to teach you a lesson by peckin’ your eyes out for what you’ve done.”

  “That’s right. You’re a damn fool, and fools always get their comeuppance. Always. You tainted our family’s ground with your actions.”

  Shaking his head from side to side to rid the sound of his parents’ mocking voices inside his mind, Cecil moved faster. He went over to the fireplace and tossed the pages inside. Reaching into his pocket, he extracted a lighter, a sneer crossing his lips as the reddish-orange flames devoured the paper. He knew it really didn’t matter—they were only copies—but the urge to remove them from his presence took control.

  Staring at the flickering flames, Cecil whispered, “I’m sorry Ma. Pa. Claire. Stephen. I know it won’t make up for the blood loss of others, but it’s a start. Just like buyin’ this place. Oh, who am I kiddin’? I can’t wash away the stains on my soul by throwin’ around cash or burnin’ paper! Ha! That only works for the government. Lord, what’s wrong with me?”

  Lost in the depressing memories of transgressions from decades before, knowing it was too late to redeem his soul, Cecil’s shoulders jerked as a dark cloud of sorrow descended. He jumped when someone tapped on the door.

  “Cecil? It’s LiAnn. Do you have a few minutes to talk?”

  Unsure what to do, assuming it wouldn’t matter if he just remained silent since she had to have heard the noise he made earlier, Cecil wiped his tears away and walked to the door. “Uh, yes, hang on.”

  LiAnn stood in the doorway, doing her best to hide the worry from her face. Motioning for her to come inside, Cecil gave her a weak smile. Her gaze immediately noticed the fire, yet she said nothing.

  Once situated on the small couch, LiAnn smiled. “Pardon my intrusion. I know you were expecting Karina, but she’s leaving to head out to Little Rock soon so I offered to come and check on you. She mentioned you were a bit shook up after Betty’s incident.”

  Lowering his body into the recliner across from LiAnn, Cecil nodded in agreement.

  “Betty suffered a heart attack. They’re performing open heart surgery on her tomorrow, but the doctor said he has high hopes for a full recovery.”

  “Good to hear,” Cecil whispered while staring at the dying flames. He couldn’t bring himself to meet LiAnn’s probing gaze.

  Awkward silence ensued for the next several minutes. Cecil’s nerves were on edge, so he busied himself by nipping the rough edges of his thumbnail.

  “Cecil, if I may, we are all family here. You’ve known my parents longer than I’ve been alive, and Karina and I both adore you. And like all people we care about, we worry when it’s obvious something is wrong. Andrew tells me I’m a good listener, so if you feel like sharing what’s bothering you, I’m here.”

  All the years of keeping a tight rein on uttering the truth about Maud Crawford and Carolyn Singleton was getting harder as he aged. After the events earlier, it zoomed beyond hard over to damned near impossible. It was like he’d been holding an invisible gate shut, trapping the words in the deepest recesses of his soul. When young and strong, keeping the pressure had been rather easy, yet as his body and mind aged, so did his stamina. A full confession strained and pushed against his throat, burning like scalding coffee, desperate to be freed.

  Glancing up from the fireplace into LiAnn’s luminous green eyes, Cecil almost caved and released his transgressions out loud. The primal, sinister voice he hadn’t heard inside his mind for years growled, “No, she’s a former cop, you fool.”

  “Cecil? Did you hear me?” LiAnn queried.

  The second the words from his darker side were spoken, Cecil’s resolved roared back. “Ain’t got nothin’ to say, except I was about to leave and go for a drive. I’ve got me business to attend to, so thanks for stoppin’ by and your concern. I’m fine, just gettin’ old and sentimental. That’s all.”

  “Cecil, please don’t push away your—”

  “I said that’s all!” In a flash and with speed he was unaware he still possessed, Cecil stood and strode to the door. “Good day, LiAnn. See you at supper.”

  Without another word, LiAnn nodded and left. The tension in the air between them made Cecil’s hair stand on end. Once she stepped into the hallway, he slammed the door.

  The embers in the fireplace were nothing more than fragile ashes, yet old habits of covering his tracks still remained. Cecil retrieved the handheld vacuum from the utility closet, and in seconds, the burnt remnants were trapped inside the plastic container. He went straight to the bathroom and promptly flushed them down the commode.

  With the last swirl and gurgle of the water, Cecil made up his mind. It was time to wrap up the past. Deal with the final stragglers. Take care of old, unfinished business. He saw the look behind LiAnn’s eyes. She was itching to ask deep, probing questions. He knew Karina would be just as intense, and saying no to her would be harder because every time he looked at her, it was like staring into Claire’s face. If he caved and told her the truth, it would devastate not only Karina, but her entire family. Destroy his lifelong friendship with Junior.

  Decision made, knowing an invisible clock ticked away precious time in the background, he snatched the keys from the counter. “One thing down, only two more to go,” Cecil mumbled as he pulled on his overcoat and slid on gloves. “The things I shoulda done years ago.”

  Noise in the hallway made him pause. The sound of Ranger’s paws trotting across the hardwood and Karina’s coos of gibberish to the big mutt made him smile. She adored the hairy beast and treated him like a child. Pressing his face to the door jam, he cracked it open just a hair—enough to watch Karina lead the dog inside her room. Holding his breath, Cecil waited a full minute before venturing out into the hallway. His tennis shoes barely made a sound as he crept across the floor and to the service elevator.

  Cecil let out his breath as the doors closed.

  The hallway was empty. No one noticed his escape. A devious smile formed on his thin lips as the elevator made its slow descent.

  Chapter 8

  Little Rock, Arkansas – Thursday, March 2, 2017

  “Are you sure, babe? I’m almost there. GPS says I’m about five
miles out.”

  “Yeah, I’m sure. I appreciate you wantin’ to be by my side and leavin’ your duties at work. I know how much you care about them folks, especially after what happened to Betty today. Really. It makes me love you all the more, but now ain’t a good time. The squabblin’ between all my relatives has given me a headache, and they’re my kin. Their fussin’ might make your head explode. They’re actin’ worse than they did durin’ the holidays.”

  Karina stifled a laugh at the mental image of Bo’s entire family arguing in the waiting room. It would be inappropriate to chuckle considering the situation, yet it sure was tempting. She’d met all of them several times at various get-togethers, including a disastrous few hours on Christmas Eve, and wasn’t fond of any of them except Bo’s mother. Gail Barton exuded warmth and kindness just like Bo. They were both real and down-to-earth, a smile always a heartbeat away and the shimmer of playfulness a constant gleam behind their eyes. How in the world Gail ended up with the moody, short-tempered Brandon Barton could only be attributed to the old saying about how opposites attract each other.

  The rest of Bo’s immediate and extended family members were, as Grampa mentioned in passing after Karina complained about their lack of manners at dinner, “rough around the edges.” That was the P.C. version of what he really meant—they were rude, unsophisticated, dip-spitting, backward rednecks— just with money and fancy clothes.

  “I’m a pretty tough gal. You said so yourself. I promise you I can handle family bickering.”

  “Darlin’, please. Just trust me. This ain’t a good time.”

  The sound of raised voices muttering in the background made Karina wince.

  Bo whispered, “Hang on and let me step out into the hall.”

  Karina could tell Bo was walking as the sounds of the harried voices grew dimmer. A sense of worry of what he was about to tell her made the hairs stand up on her arms. His tone was hesitant and tinged with fear, which was completely out of character for him. Sensing the conversation would take a turn for the worse, she exited the freeway and pulled into a gas station.

  “Guess you’ll know soon enough what’s goin’ on if you watch the six o’clock news tonight. You’ll get a chance to view some really dirty laundry ain’t a soul in my family is excited about airin’.”

  “Dirty laundry? Would you please stop being so cryptic and just tell me what’s going on? I’ve had enough mystery tossed my way today.”

  Sighing heavily, Bo responded, “Okay, but before I do, I want you to know I didn’t have a clue what Brice has been doin’.”

  “Bo? Spit it out. You’re officially freaking me out here. How did Brice get burned?”

  “Fine, but again, remember what I said.”

  The memory of the day she opened up and told Bo about the true reason the Feds visited the farm and the possibility the mob was running The Magnolia popped inside Karina’s mind. Bo had been wonderful and accepting, not even giving a second thought about the potential danger. All he cared about was her safety. The thought made her tone soften. “I will babe. You stuck by me when my life flipped upside down, so it’s time for me to reciprocate. No judging. Talk to me.”

  “Brice has been…uh…dealin’ drugs....Not usin’, just dealin’…like that’s much better. Meth to be exact.”

  The heartache in Bo’s voice was painful to hear. Though Karina tried to stifle the gasp, it slipped out. “Oh, shit.”

  “Yeah, oh shit was my first response too. Brice was out on the back edge of our property, way out in the thick of the woods cookin’ that mess when a batch exploded. Guess he miscalculated or somethin’. Damn fool.”

  Swallowing down the disgust of the latest revelation of the day, Karina asked, “Is he awake?”

  “No. The doctors put him in a, uh, shoot I can’t recall the name.”

  “Medically induced coma?”

  “Yeah, that’s it. His lower body is a mess. His legs…oh, Jesus, …the docs don’t know if they can save them.”

  “That’s it, I’m coming up there. I don’t care if your family is arguing or not! You need someone to—”

  “No,” Bo interrupted. Clearing his throat twice, he continued. “It’s bad enough to hear about all this shit. Seein’ it is another. I’m stayin’ up here tonight. Maybe tomorrow too, dependin’ on how things go. Someone’s gotta keep my dad from beatin’ the poor doctor each time he comes out with a bad report. I…don’t want you to be a part of all the ugliness. You’ve been through enough.”

  “Bo, I’m fine.”

  Raised voices in the background made Karina cringe. A male voice shouted, “Bo! Get off that phone!”

  “I’ve gotta go. I’ll call when I can. Don’t come up here, babe. I mean it.”

  Karina never had a chance to argue because the line disconnected.

  Shaking her head at the turn of events and Bo’s curtness, Karina drummed her fingers on the steering wheel. If she ignored Bo’s request and went anyway, it would probably only make things worse, so that option was out. Should she turn around and head back to Hot Springs?

  “No. Cheryl and Mom were right. I haven’t had a day off in months.”

  Opening the GPS app, she punched in Camden and searched for a library. It was ninety-seven miles away. She clicked on it and the robotic voice droned, “Merge onto to I-30 west toward Texarkana, then continue on to I-530 south, US 67/167 south.”

  Looking out the windshield, the inviting bright afternoon sun peaked through puffy white clouds. “Ah, it’s a perfect day to let the horses run and jam to some music to soothe my mind.”

  Gunning the engine, Karina cranked up the radio to a local rock station, singing at the top of her terrible voice, a wide smile on her face as the speedometer neared eighty.

  Following the droning voice of the GPS, Karina wound through the cracked and bumpy streets of Camden. Like Hot Springs, several of the structures appeared to date back to the early 1900s, judging by the architectural styles and aged facades. Unlike Hot Springs, the buildings looked worn, frail, and uncared for by the owners…if there were any. At a four-way stop, Karina’s gaze was drawn to a vibrant mural on the side of a building.

  The gaudy conglomeration of colors and images covered almost an entire city block. The center piece was a woman clad in a lavender off-the-shoulder gown attempting a seductive gaze from what Karina assumed was supposed to be a private boudoir. A steamboat was visible in the background with three scrawny-looking children standing barefoot at the shore’s edge, the watchful eyes of a very proper white gentleman and his wife holding an infant staring at the dirty waifs. Behind them stood what looked like a slave girl. Karina winced at the image.

  “Boudoir my ass! That’s a whorehouse and its madam for sure! Ha! Guess some of the townsfolk decided to embrace the city’s raunchy past rather than the one of mystery and death. Good for them! I bet she was a real person too and not just some artist’s rendition. Hmmm. Wonder if anyone thought maybe Maud or Carolyn’s picture should be included with the words ‘have you seen us?’ underneath?” Karina chuckled at her own joke.

  Another odd thing that stood out from her perspective was the lack of people or cars. There were a few but only a handful of both. Were they all out tending fields or chopping trees down? The creepy factor of the near-vacant area made the hairs stand erect on her arms.

  After a few more lefts and rights, she was on the street where the Crawford home was located. The majority of Ouachita County was flat terrain, yet, according to the elaborate sign up ahead, the older section of Camden known as the Clifton and Greening Streets Historic District seemed to have been built on a small berm. The dilapidated road sported sharp curves and barely enough room for two cars to pass each other and was full of ramshackle homes.

  Slowing as a scraggly dog trotted across the road, completely oblivious to the vehicle mere feet away, Karina grimaced as she took in the sad atmosphere of the neighborhood. The sidewalks were cracked and worn, chunks missing in several spots. Though she wasn’
t a building expert, she winced at the condition of some of the residences, noting quite a few that looked like they should be condemned. The wide, wrap-a-round porches sagged from neglect, the wood exteriors in desperate need of siding or at least a good paint job. Some of the windows looked they were held together with duct tape. Yards that had potential to be beautiful were bare except for a few sickly trees—not a flower or green plant in sight. As she slowed down to take in the full spectrum, Karina felt a twinge of sadness at the deteriorated state of the old southern homes.

  Nearing the end of the street, she let out a small gasp. Pulling up to the curb, Karina stared at the beautiful mansion. She recognized it immediately from her earlier research and marveled at not only the immaculate upkeep but the shocking difference between the other homes on the street.

  The two-story home was stunning. White, with four columns gracing the front and intricate attention to detail, it looked like it should be the school president’s manor on some southern college campus. Graceful, stately, and charming, it was like stepping onto the set of a movie about the old South. A side driveway wound around to the back, leaving the front of the home unobstructed for viewing from the road. The porch was dotted with hanging baskets full of vibrant perennials and ferns swaying gently from a light breeze. Thick, dark grass covered the yard, split in half from a wide, concrete walkway of numerous steps starting at the sidewalk leading to an ornate front door.

  Karina took a few quick pictures on her cell and then left before a nosy neighbor knocked on the window. As she made her way down a sharp incline, she laughed. She’d almost expected the place to look like the boarded-up, decrepit Meyer house in Halloween. The kind of place full of spiders, dust, snakes, and ghosts that kids feared and tested each other’s levels of courage by daring to run up the stairs and knock on the door.

  It was a pleasant surprise to see the place hanging on to its former glory, even though one of Arkansas’s biggest mysteries happened behind the walls. Considering the manor’s tainted history, she was surprised someone owned it and spent countless amounts of money to retain the beauty of the old place.