Penumbra (24 page)

F
rank watched Jade’s headlights bounce down the puddled driveway. She was alive, but he knew she wasn’t undamaged. Fear changed a person. The things that had happened were forever in her mind, darkling images cast by a shadowed moon. Jade would have visits in the night from Junior Clements and Suzanna. She would suffer, and she had done no wrong.

When her taillights disappeared from view, Frank walked into the dining room where Junior Clements was bleeding out. A blood trail covered half the room, soaking into the wood floor, mingling with the blood of the past. Frank straddled him, listening to the bubbling sound of air mingling with the blood in his throat.

“Where’s Suzanna Bramlett?” he asked.

“Fuck you.” Junior could barely manage the words.

Frank picked up the knife Jade had dropped on the floor. He pressed the point under Junior’s chin, inserting the blade a quarter of an inch into the tender flesh.

“I’m going to split your tongue from under your chin,” he said. “Where is Suzanna?”

Junior made a soft gurgling sound, and Frank pressed the blade slightly deeper.

“She’s dead,” Junior gasped.

Frank removed the blade. “How long has she been dead?” “From the first. She kicked my balls. I didn’t mean to, but I broke her neck.”

Marlena had been right. Suzanna had been dead from the first few minutes of the attack. Frank lowered his face closer to Junior’s. “Who told you to attack Marlena?”

The rate of Junior’s bubbling increased. He tried to look away but had lost control of his head.

Frank removed his gun from his holster. He shifted down Junior’s body so that he was standing on either side of Junior’s knees. He pointed the gun at Junior’s testicles. “Suzanna kicked ‘em, and I’m going to blow them off if you don’t tell me who paid you to hurt Marlena.”

He gave Junior a moment to reflect. “I know it was either Lucas or Lucille. Which one?”

Junior tried to lift a hand, but the effort was too much for him. He rattled and moaned.

Frank waited another thirty seconds and then cocked the gun. “Junior, you’re going to die. I’m telling you right out. It’s justice for what you’ve done. Suzanna didn’t have a choice. Neither did Marlena. It would have been kinder if you’d killed her. The promise I make you, is that I can make it quick, or I can make the last half hour agonizing.”

“It was Ms. Longier. She wanted us … to scare Marlena. She was fucking that route man.”

Frank understood, even though it sickened him. He saw the whole picture, and in the center of the web was the queen spider, willing to eat her young to preserve her kingdom.

“She sent you there to frighten Marlena. John Hubbard set it up. He had Marlena there so you and Pet could frighten her. And then it got out of hand. You killed Suzanna so you decided to have your fun with Marlena.”

He gave Junior a chance to deny it, but Junior had nothing else to say.

“Then you had a taste for it,” Frank supplied. “You pulled your car across the highway and tricked Sam Levert into stopping and you beat him to death for his money.”

“Call an ambulance,” Junior begged. “I don’t want … to die.”

Frank knelt to examine his wounds. Two were superficial, but two were serious. The eye wound posed a real potential for infection, but it was the cut to the kidney and gut that would eventually kill Junior. Eventually. Gut wounds were always the worst.

Frank read the story of the wounds. He saw how Jade had jumped on Junior’s back and fought for her own life and her sister’s. Junior’s breath was fading. Soon he would be dead. Not even the miracles of modern medicine could save him. Frank sighed. “You brutalized Marlena, and you killed that man on the highway because you liked the way it felt. But you didn’t count on Jade, did you?”

“Help me,” Junior whispered.

Frank sensed someone else was in the room. When he looked up, his grandfather stood at the edge of the table. Blood leaked slowly from Gustave’s temple where the bullet hole was ringed in powder. He held the gun in his right hand, and he nodded at Frank.

Frank rose slowly to his feet. He stared at Gustave, finally understanding what must have happened on that night so long ago when Anna and Alfred were killed and when Gustave took his own life. Gustave had not killed his sister-in-law. He had not fired that first shot, or the second. Greta had. She’d killed her sister-in-law, and then her brother-in-law. Gustave had not acted in madness when he put the gun to his own head, but had merely put an end to things that could not continue. He’d taken the blame and left his wife free to raise their baby.

Moonlight broke through the clouds, flooding the room with light. The gun glinted in Gustave’s hand. He nodded once more.

Frank grasped his pistol as he stood over the dying man on the floor. Junior looked up at him with a plea in his one remaining eye. Frank aimed at Junior’s heart, cocked the .357, and fired. The badge Frank wore would protect him from murder charges, if anyone was foolish enough to care that Junior was dead. Frank knew his action would protect Jade from the stain of Junior’s death, from the dreams that sometimes came when the night was deep and quiet.

He walked out into the yard where moonlight swished in the leaves of the trees and darkened the dense green of the camellia leaves. A sweet breeze with the promise of fall tickled the trees into a whispery sigh.

Jonah sat in one of the two chairs in the waiting room, his head in his hands and his body still shaking. He wanted to vomit, but there was nothing to come up. He needed to call Ruth, but he couldn’t trust his voice to hold firm and not frighten her. In his mind was a single image that looped and relooped. Two sounds, that of his flashlight smacking into flesh and bone and the soft plop of brain onto the floor, echoed in his heart. After that, his hearing had stopped. Even now, sitting in the hospital with nurses and Dr. McMillan running back and forth, he heard nothing.

Jade was safe. She was in an exam room with a nurse cleaning blood from her. She wasn’t hurt. Not physically, anyway. Her could see in her face that she was frightened and upset, in shock. The doctor had given her a sedative to calm her. Marlena was in the second exam room, and from the faces of the nurses, he could see that things weren’t good for her. Lucas paced the hallway, his expression blank. Jonah was unable to read any intention in his face.

The emergency room doors burst open. Jonah didn’t recognize the man who stepped through the door with a blond in his arms. It took him a moment to realize the blond was Dotty Strickland. She looked like she’d been run over with a truck and then skinned.

“What in the hell is going on?” Dr. McMillan yelled as he came out of the room with Marlena to find another crisis in his hallway. “Take her in here.” He pointed to the doorway to surgery and disappeared behind the man carrying Dotty.

The double outside doors opened again and Jonah stood up. He fought the muscles of his face to keep them from showing emotion at the young boy who walked in, his face so badly scarred he looked inhuman. Another man entered carrying a woman who weighed no more than seventy pounds and looked like she’d been beaten all over. She was wrapped in some type of cloth, and he saw the wound on her ankle that looked as if she’d been chained.

He was about to sit back down when a third man entered, carrying the body of a child. Her brown hair, dry now, fluttered silkily around the man’s knees. For a moment Jonah thought her alive, but then he saw her face where death rested in the blue-tinted skin and the sightless eyes.

“Suzanna!” He cried the name and stepped forward before he could stop himself. The man froze. Jonah felt himself pushed aside, and he turned to see Lucas striding past him, his gaze on his daughter’s body. Lucas said nothing. He stared at his dead child, turned, and walked away, his footsteps tapping on the hard tile of the hospital floor until they faded into nothing.

T
he August sun seemed to drink the life out of the landscape as Frank parked his car in front of the house on the hill with the wraparound porch and cool shade. It was midmorning on a Monday. A flock of chickens scattered around his feet as he walked to the steps. Lucille was home. He knew it. She had no way of leaving because he’d told Jonah not to return the car.

Frank knocked at the front door and waited. When no one answered, he walked around the porch to the side door that fed into the kitchen. Lucille was sitting at the table, her back to the door.

“Mrs. Longier,” he said, tapping at the door. She didn’t move or register his presence.

“Mrs. Longier,” he said, knocking harder. When she failed to move, he opened the screen and walked into the room. He stepped around to face her. Her blue eyes were gazing out the kitchen window at an old shed. She seemed to be watching something of great interest, but when Frank looked out the window, he saw only the heat devils dancing in the yard and a few butterflies skimming the last of the summer flowers.

The hard rain the night before had left the earth saturated. The sun had come up hot, vaporizing the moisture and creating a bowl of humidity over the town. Frank wiped the sweat from his brow as he turned back to the woman who had masterminded her daughter’s violent rape and the death of her grandchild.

“Suzanna is dead,” he said simply. “You’re to blame for it.”

“How dare you say such a thing.”

Somewhere between his entrance and his accusation, Lucille had regained her composure. He looked into blue eyes that held fire and ice. “I dare because it’s true. You paid Junior and Pet to fall upon Marlena. John Hubbard helped you set it up. By the way, where is Hubbard?”

“I have no idea who you’re talking about.” She smiled. “I’d offer you coffee, but my servants seem to have abandoned me.”

Frank had wondered if he would feel any pity for Lucille. Now he knew. None. Not the first scrap. She was unrepentant. “I wouldn’t count on Ruth or Jonah ever coming back. Except to return your car, of course.”

“I want him arrested. He’s a thief.”

“Let’s talk about the money you paid Junior.”

Lucille’s mouth twisted up on one side. “Frank, you come from a long line of people with defective genes. Insanity is hereditary, you know.”

“How much did you pay them?”

“You grandfather murdered his brother and his sister-in-law, and then turned the gun on himself. Now you’ve killed Junior Clements when he was lying on the floor wounded. Everyone in town knows you’re nuts. The kind ones say ‘shell-shocked.’ Everyone knows that’s code for insane.”

“Did you tell Junior and Pet to frighten Marlena? Was that the plan? Or did you simply want her destroyed because she threatened your security?”

“Rumors around town are that you killed two of your own men who were wounded. Some say it was an act of kindness. Others, though, say you didn’t want to be bothered carrying injured men. Which was it, Frank?”

He watched her and saw the corruption that ran to the bone. She would do anything to protect herself. Anything. Sacrifice her daughter, her grandchild, anyone who happened to be convenient. Her words were cotton puffs tossed at him. She’d never had the power to injure him, only those who loved her.

“You’re going to prison, Lucille. You’ll die there, if I have anything to do with it.”

She laughed. “You’re a fool, Frank. Who’s going to testify against me? Junior and Pet are dead. You killed one and Jonah killed the other.” She laughed again at his expression. “Huey called me and told me. He thought he was being kind and taking care of an old woman.” She stood up. “You have no evidence that I had anything to do with what Junior and Pet did.”

Frank’s smile was slow. “Really.”

“Really,” she said, taking a step toward him.

“You forget about John Hubbard.”

“Who?” She arched an eyebrow in mock confusion.

“Marlena’s lover. The man who set the whole thing up. The man who was here at your house last evening.” Frank grinned. “You’re going to jail, Lucille.”

“Where is this Hubbard?” Lucille frowned and looked in every corner of the room. “Produce him, Frank.”

Frank had the first inkling of concern. Hubbard was somewhere in the area. His car was still parked on the courthouse lawn. He had no way to get out of town.

“Where is he, Frank?” Lucille demanded.

“We’ll find him,” Frank said. He rested his thumb over the pistol in his holster.

“I don’t think you’ll find him.” Lucille stepped closer to Frank. “No, I don’t think you’ll find this John Hubbard. If he ever existed, I think he’s gone.” She straightened the collar of her dress. “You have nothing to link me to any of this.” “We’ll find Hubbard and he’ll talk.”

“No, Frank, let me tell you what’s going to happen. And you can take it to the bank. Lucas is going to bury Suzanna on Wednesday. On Thursday, he’s going to file for divorce. On Friday, Huey is going to charge Marlena with reckless neglect in the death of his daughter. She never should have had that child in the woods while she was having an affair.”

“Huey won’t do that.” Frank’s voice lacked conviction. He knew he was lying. Huey wasn’t a bad man, but he was a weak man, and in the face of Lucas Bramlett’s insistence, he would do what Lucas wanted.

Lucille met his gaze. “You don’t even believe that.”

“And what about you?” Frank asked. “What will you do without Lucas’s money to support you?”

“What makes you think I won’t have money?”

Frank tasted only bitterness. He would do what he could to protect Marlena, but that would be too little too late. In killing Junior, he’d destroyed Marlena. He looked at the old woman, still handsome in a cold way. “How long do you think Lucas will support his ex-mother-in-law?” He watched with great satisfaction as the truth of his words stung her. “He’ll divorce Marlena and he’ll dump you. I hope you didn’t give Junior all your money, because it won’t be long before you’re begging in the streets.” He started to turn away, but looked back. “I won’t ever stop looking for Hubbard. And when I find him, dead or alive, you’re going to prison.”

Dotty sat in the backyard swing, her foot swathed in bandages. She held a drink in her hand and used her good foot to push herself gently to and fro. The heat was unbearable. She had a terrible fear that gangrene would slip beneath the white bandages and nibble at the rest of her foot, creeping up her leg.

“Shit,” she said, sipping her bourbon. “Am I morbid or what?”

“Is it true that Zerty’s in jail?” The boy came out from behind the tree. She’d learned that his name was Luke.

“He’s in jail and he’s going to rot there.” She sipped the bourbon. “If he ever does get out, I’m going to hang him from a tree limb, gut him, and let the wasps have him.”

Luke’s hand traced his sightless eye. “Would you really?”

“Do you doubt it?” She’d do worse than that if Archey ever got out of the pen. “Where’s your ma?”

“Inside.” The boy’s voice faded.

“She’s going to be okay,” Dotty said. When the boy didn’t respond, she stopped the swing and touched his shoulder. “She’ll be okay. She just has to believe that no one is going to hurt her again.”

“Does she have to go away?”

Dotty thought about it. A strange bond had formed between the three of them, and she was reluctant to let the doctors in Mobile have Katy, even though she’d been assured that a stay in a sanitarium, with proper care, would be the best thing for her. “We’ll give it a try,” she said. “If Katy doesn’t do well, or if she seems unhappy, we’ll get her out.”

“Promise?”

Dotty nodded. “I promise.” She stood up and Luke handed her a crutch. “What about you?” she asked. “That doctor said he could do skin grafts. Lucas has set up a fund for you and your mom so there’s money.” She thought of Lucas and felt a flush of fury. Lucas had established the medical fund only after being threatened with exposing the fact that Luke was his child. Frank had handled the delicate negotiations, and she felt a smile building at the thought of how that conversation must have gone. “What about it?” she asked.

The boy shook his head. “No.”

“What are you going to do?” Dotty asked.

“What are
you
going to do?” he responded.

She laughed. “I don’t know for certain.”

“Can I stay here?” He looked down at the ground.

Dotty felt the tears in her eyes. Seemed like most folks couldn’t get away from her fast enough. Her husband, Joe, had stepped in front of a train, and sometimes she thought it might have been deliberate. Luke was different, though. Folks stared at him like he was a freak, and it made her mad enough to fight. For the first time she could remember, she was willing to fight for someone other than herself. Luke liked being with her, and if it was because no one else would have him, that didn’t matter.

“Sure,” she said. “You can stay here as long as you like. We’ll figure out together what we’re going to do.”