One Blood (26 page)

“
Spirits wouldn’t leave him be. They drove him to it. Tried to kill himself, he did. Lincoln stopped’m. Spirits didn’t like that. They wanted him so they used Randy to get him.”

Wood fell to both sides of the workbench in a torrent as her father twisted and turned the log in his big, calloused hands. It was starting to take shape.

“
They want Karen, too. It’s her turn.”

“
How do I stop it?” Coral screamed, an adult voice emanating from her child’s frame.

Her father carved on, then suddenly went rigid. “All done,” he whispered. “Beautiful.” He spun around in the chair.

Coral looked up into her father’s face and found Kristopher gazing down on her. She screamed.

“
I want you, Mommy,” he said, grinning. “I want you and Daddy.” Kristopher grabbed the carving off the table and showed it to his child mother. He dangled the severed head of a bald, black man in front of her. The eyes bulged, the nose snorted, and a long, pink tongue lolled from blue lips.

Coral couldn’t stop screaming.

“
Go ahead. Scream all you want. No one is coming.”

Coral opened her eyes. Shaw Roberts sat on a stool across from her, watching some morning game show on an old 1970s era TV. It took her a moment to regroup, but then she remembered where she was.
Here Today, Gone Tomorrow
.

“
Bad dream?”

Coral looked away. Her nose was running. She touched one nostril tenderly and gasped when she saw red blood superimposed on the pale skin of her finger.

The dream was fading. It had felt so real.

Coral could smell the remnants of the chloroform he’d used to subdue her. She was bound to a chair. A wave of despair washed over her.

“
You can ignore me now,” Shaw said. “But you’d better get used to talking to me. I’m the only friend you got.”

“
What are you talking about? You’re just a no count thug-for-hire under your brother’s thumb.” Her words surprised her.

Shaw stood and glared menacingly. “What did you just say?”

“
You heard me. What’s your cut? Or are you just the fall guy?” She shook her head in disgust. “You’re just too dumb to see what you’ve gotten yourself into.”

The back of Shaw’s hand connected with the side of her face. Coral’s head rocked; she saw stars. Fresh blood bloomed on her busted lower lip.

“
Told you to watch your mouth.” Shaw stomped out of the room.

Gotcha.

Coral closed her eyes and let her head clear. Once her ears stopped ringing she caught the television announcer saying, “We interrupt our coverage of Hurricane Isaac to bring you a Fox 29 News Breaking Story.”

Footage rolled of Lincoln Baker’s release from Angola.

A connection fired deep in her synapses as she watched her son’s killer walk to his freedom.

How did he get free?

Randy. Pardon. Karen. Kidnapping. Kristopher. Murder. My. Fault.

The words chased themselves through her subconscious, until she finally put it together. Randy lied to her about Karen because he hadn’t thought she could handle the truth. He’d been right to lie.

What kind of partner am I? What kind of mother?

Coral had been passive for too long. Prayer and meditation, solutions she’d preached in her book, would not get her very far in this situation. For the first time since the day before her son’s murder, Coral was wide awake.

* * * * *

Chapter Forty-One

Monday

New Roads, LA

As Jhonnette exited the room, Lincoln tried to remember his last moment of clarity.

He’d been lying on the ground just outside of Angola—people screaming all around him. Roberts was kneeling over him.

“
Either you come with me right now, or you die here.”
The words seemed to be coming from a voice right next to his ear.

Lincoln bolted upright in bed and glanced around wildly. For a second, he swore he smelled the sour tobacco scent of Roberts’ breath.

What happened next?

The only thing he remembered was waking up in this hospital bed. He needed to stay focused. First things first, he had to contact Amir and confirm Jhonnette’s story.

* * * * *

Jhonnette paced in the hallway searching for a nurse. She needed a few minutes to clear her head, as well as take a much-needed potty break. She’d been running pretty much non-stop since three o’clock in the morning. Her bladder’s burden relieved, her mind returned to Lincoln. She was still a long way from gaining his trust and needed to accelerate the process before it was too late.

While Jhonnette stood patiently in the corner, a short, petite nurse named Monica checked Lincoln’s monitors and administered morphine into his intravenous line. Lincoln paid no attention to the nurse, his eyes fixed intently on Jhonnette.

The nurse finished her duties and glided out of the room.

Jhonnette approached Lincoln’s bedside and asked, “Feeling better?”

“
I need to use your phone.”

“
To call who?”

“
It’s none of your business. Listen, I’ll tell you whatever you want to know. Just let me borrow the phone first.”

“
Okay.” Jhonnette dug through her purse for the cell phone.

She watched as Lincoln searched for the dialing pad. “How you work this thing?” he asked.

“
Let me,” she said, taking it back. “What’s the number?”

After dialing, she returned the phone to him. Lincoln held his breath as the phone rang and rang.

“
Amir not answering?” she asked.

Lincoln’s eyes widened. “How did you—”

“
Amir has been compromised. You’re going to have to start trusting me, Lincoln, because I may be the only person left that can get you out of this.”

“
What the fuck you talkin’ ‘bout lady?”

“
Like I said, I’m here to help. I have information you need.”

“
Yeah? Well you can start by telling me what the fuck happened to Amir.”

“
We’ll get there, but first things first. You need to understand your past to make sense of what is required of you now. What was Kristopher Lafitte doing on the wrong side of town on the day of the Simmons Park Massacre?”

“
I hate when people call it that. It wasn’t no massacre. It was a set up.”

Jhonnette seized her opening. “But set up by whom?”

Lincoln was silent.

“
You and Kristopher Lafitte were friends, weren’t you?”

Lincoln rolled away from her. “You think you know me just because you’ve read some articles? You don’t know shit.”

“
I know we share a common enemy, Lincoln,” she said. “And we are running out of time. But I need to know why you killed your friend. Or why you allowed yourself to be framed for the crime if you didn’t.”

“
Why is that important?”

“
Because you are the key to bringing Randy Lafitte to his knees and you don’t even realize it. But first you have to stop blaming yourself.”

Lincoln stared at her for a long time. Then he started talking. His words came painfully slow at first, but soon he lost himself in his own story and Jhonnette got lost with him.

* * * * *

Chapter Forty-Two

Ten years earlier

1992

Lake City, LA

Lincoln’s life had come full circle since moving in with Moses. On New Year’s Eve, two years after his house arrest sentence began; Moses finalized Lincoln’s adoption and announced his engagement to a wonderful, loving woman named Lois Payne. For the first time in his life, Lincoln was part of a real family. Lois had a child from a previous marriage, six-year-old Brandon who idolized Lincoln from the moment he entered the house.

Lincoln was a senior at St. Louis Prep, popular and well liked—the Fresh Prince of Lake City. His exploits on the basketball court had become legendary and rabid, cheering fans packed the Crusader’s gym every game night.

Now that he was somewhat of a local celebrity, he had a lot of new friends and associates, chief among them—Kris Lafitte. Lincoln had never met a crazier white boy in his whole life—and he’d never befriended or trusted a white person, ever. Despite their differences, they forged a bond almost as strong as his gang brotherhood because Kris had his demons as well. They never discussed Kris’s suicide attempt, but every so often, Lincoln would glance at Kris and see a tortured shadow pass over his friend’s face.

After Lincoln led the Crusaders through the Class 5A state playoffs to the championship game, reporters, agents, scouts, and college coaches started calling the house every day. Everyone started treating him as though he was the second coming of Michael Jordan. People speculated about whether Lincoln would go to some college powerhouse or do the unthinkable and leap straight from high school to the pros, something no high school player had done since Moses Malone in the late seventies.

Kris constantly talked about them attending North Carolina, Stanford, or Duke together and how big they would be living. “Imagine living on our own, Link. College girls, our own supped up dorm room, no curfews…”

Lincoln loved seeing Kris making plans for the future, but didn’t share his friend’s joy. Lincoln, having been largely ignored most of his life, was not used to being the center of attention. He couldn’t verbalize how terrified he was of leaving Lake City and the sanctuary of Moses’ home.

As the deadline for him to declare his eligibility for the NBA draft approached, Lincoln was unable to sleep, eat, or concentrate in class. One afternoon, he and Kris left school early and went out to Barton Coliseum near the airport to smoke a little weed and talk.

They drove Kris’s car into one of the horse stables next to the domed building and parked. “So what are you gonna do?” Kris asked, firing up a joint.

“
I really don’t know, bruh.”

Kris passed the joint to Lincoln, then reached into his backpack and produced an envelope.

“
What’s that?” Lincoln asked.

“
Open it.”

The letter was from the Louisiana State University registrar’s office. Lincoln patted Kris on the back excitedly. “Congrats! You’re a college man now. I thought for sure you’d end up at UNC though.”

“
LSU is gonna let me play ball.”

Lincoln nodded. Another thing they had in common—their love for the game. Being able to play ball was their reason for breathing. Basketball was life. “Look, Link,” Kris said, growing serious. “I know you’re worried about leaving Lake City, but you gotta get the hell outta here before something bad happens.”

Kris was referring to fallout from the brawl during the semifinal game against crosstown rival Lake City-Boston. Several Scorpions were standout athletes on that team and a bench-clearing brawl had broken out in the middle of the third quarter. Lincoln and Kris were both suspended for their role in the fight and ever since, Kris had been obsessing over whether or not the gang would retaliate.

“
I think they’re planning something, man, I really do.”

Lincoln laughed. “Kris, what the hell do you know about gang activity? Are the gardeners going to war with the butlers in your hood?”

Kris wasn’t laughing.

Lincoln took another puff off the joint. “You’re serious?”

“
As a heart attack, man. If you stay around here, they will get you back eventually.”

“
I ain’t worried,” Lincoln said with a shrug. “The Skulls still have my back.”

“
I hope so, for your sake. Anyway, man, you coming with me to LSU or not?”

“
Kris, I been meaning to talk to you about that. You’re my boy so please don’t take this the wrong way, but we didn’t come from the same place, and we ain’t goin’ to the same place.”

“
What’s that supposed to mean?”

“
It means you got it made, bruh. You’ve always had it made. Look, you’re prob’ly gonna go to college, meet some spoiled rich girl, graduate, go to law school, get married, build a huge house, and live happily ever after. Ain’t none a’ that gonna happen to me.”

Kris stood. “It’s always the same thing with you, man. It always comes back to my family’s money. Yeah, I come from money and yeah, you don’t, but that doesn’t give you an excuse to ruin your life, does it? You people are so dense sometimes.”

“
You people?
Fuck you! You’re just like the rest of these corny whitebread trust fund motherfuckers. Go home and count your money, rich boy. Even if I decide to go to college, ain’t no way in hell I’m following your lame ass to LSU. Forget about me. Go get some new friends…”

The next day was Senior Skip Day and Lincoln was grateful. He couldn’t deal with any more questions about his decision and desperately needed to get the fight with Kris off his mind. He met up with some other senior skippers and headed out to Prien Pines Beach for an afternoon of sun and fun.