A Harvest of Blood - An Action Thriller Novel (Omega Series Book 5)

by Blake Banner

  Those who had turned to glare at me turned back to face the reverend and I slipped into the last row, which was vacant, and settled to wait for the service to end.

  A couple of minutes later, the door opened again, letting in a blast of icy air, and with it came a tall, crooked man in his late sixties or early seventies with a shock of white hair brushed back from a long, craggy face. With him came a woman in her mid or late forties, once handsome but now drawn and prematurely aged, and a young man who bore a striking resemblance to both of them. He was probably in his late teens or early twenties, but he looked sickly and feeble. He was tall, like the man I figured was his grandfather, but he was stooped and pale, with hollow eyes and limp, blond hair that fell over his face. The woman, I guessed, was his mother, and he held onto her arm as they slipped into the back row, across the aisle from me.

  When the service had finished, the reverend paused, as though thinking about what to do next. Then he spoke out suddenly, with a strength that had been missing during the worship.

  “I will, in a moment, invite those of you who knew and loved Peggy-Sue to say a few words in remembrance of her, but before I do, I should like to say a few words myself. We are, first and foremost, a Christian community, and whatever the Old Testament may say about an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth, we follow the word of Christ, and Christ made it very clear to us that our way is the way of love and forgiveness. If there is to be punishment or vengeance exacted, let it be by the hand of God, not our hand.

  “Now, if anybody here would like to say some words in memory of our beloved child…”

  The tall man with the white hair who had arrived after me now stood. His voice was strong. “Reverend Cameron, I should like to say some words in Peggy-Sue’s memory, if you will allow me.”

  “Brother Aloysius, I see you have brought your wife and your son. You are welcome.”

  So this was Aloysius Groves. I watched him walk with long, strangely jerky strides to a lectern that had been placed at the head of the casket. He had no prepared speech—at least it wasn’t written on paper. He gazed at the congregation, like some ancient Celtic king, or a druid.

  “It has been five years since we had anything like this in our small community. Ours has been a harmonious living together in peace and friendship. We are more than neighbors, more than a community. We are a family. The tragedy of Peggy’s death strikes at all of us. Nobody who has not lost a child can begin to imagine the pain that Albert and Flora Martin are going through right now, but I know that each one of us here today, everyone who is a member of this family, has a deep, unquenchable pain in their hearts. When Peggy-Sue died, we all lost a member of our family.”

  He paused and looked down at his palms, first one and then the other, and he started talking like he was talking to his hands.

  “Five years ago, after we lost Sally Ibanez, a year after we’d lost Rose and Alice Gordon, I promised you, here in this very church, that we would put a stop to it. And we did.”

  He fell silent. His gaze drifted. He was silent so long that people began to shift in their seats. Somebody coughed. He seemed to come out of his reverie, or a dream, and looked around at the faces, all looking to him for guidance, for a direction.

  “I know that some of you are thinking that maybe we should call the sheriff, maybe we should call in law enforcement, maybe this is a case for the FBI. But before you take any rash steps or actions, I would say to you what I said to you all those years ago: I would ask you all to consider the consequences to our community of being portrayed nationwide as a ghoulish home of redneck rape and murder! Ridiculed from coast to coast as the small, backwater home of incest and rape, of inbreds and sodomites!” His face flushed. “That is not who we are. But I assure you, I have seen it, once the press and the media get a hold of this story, they will brand us forever, they will pry into each of our lives, they will lie and distort the truth just to sell their stories, to raise their ratings. Our small family will be branded and ridiculed from Los Angeles to New York.”

  He stood nodding, looking from face to face.

  “And that will not be the end of it. The police will call in the FBI! And they will pry into every corner of our community, the will leave no life untouched, no closet unrifled, no secret unaired. And whether the culprit be one of us, in Independence, or whether he be from elsewhere—a stranger preying on our community—they will pin the guilt on one of us. They will make the evidence fit their prejudices, and one of our community will go down, guilty or not. You may be sure of it.

  “I am going to ask you, as I did then, to give us a chance to look out for our own. Let the men of Independence protect their women and their children, as we did once before. And this time, you have my word, we will make it stick. Thank you.”

  Then, on his long, stiff legs, with his odd, jerky walk, he strode down the central aisle, gathered up his wife and his sickly, pallid son, and they stepped out of the church and into the snow. The door slammed closed behind them and a big silence settled on the temple. Nobody looked at me where I sat in the shadows, in the corner, but they all knew I was there, and they all knew I was the elephant in that room. Finally, the reverend said it.

  “We have an honored guest among us today, a man who has fought bravely, albeit misguidedly, on Peggy’s behalf. The man who found her dying in the snow, who brought her home, who delivered her into the doctor’s care, and defied the blizzard to try to get her to a hospital. Today, we thank the Lord for sending him to Peggy in her hour of need, and we thank that man, and we honor him, for his efforts and for being among us today.” He paused. “However, I also ask him, on behalf of this community, to desist from his efforts to find the culprit, to desist from his violent ways, to allow Independence to handle its own affairs, and continue on his way, with our blessing.”

  There was a lot of murmured approval and nodding. I slid to the end of the bench and stood.

  “Reverend Cameron, people of Independence, I will be on my way…” I paused and smiled as I sensed the wave of relief ripple through the congregation, then added, “Just as soon as the weather permits, and I am through with what I have to do. You see, you made a mistake five years ago, and you made another one today. You think that Peggy-Sue’s rape and murder is your business, and nobody else’s. It’s not. The rape and murder of a child is everybody’s business. Peggy-Sue is not going to get swept under the carpet with Rose and Alice and Sally. I am here. And I am going to find who did this and I am going to make him pay. When I’ve done that, I’ll leave.”

  I paused, looking around at all the people who now refused to look at me. Then, I added, “You don’t need to worry about the law coming to Independence. I never made it to Lovelock. When your man, Earl, told me what he had been instructed to do to Peggy, I turned back. I decided I did not want the sheriff involved. You don’t need to worry about the law. You need to worry about me. I am here to exact justice. You can pass that on to Vasco, when you brief him on this… service.”

  They didn’t look happy. I didn’t really care. I pulled open the door and stepped out into the brilliant, freezing sunshine. I paused on the steps above the path and looked north. There were more clouds piling up. There was another storm building. This one would be worse. This time I’d be ready.

  twelve

  I was almost at Main Street when I heard her footsteps running behind me, crunching in the snow, and the breathless call of her voice: “Mr. Walker! Lacklan…!”

  I stopped and turned. It was Primrose, with flushed cheeks and bright eyes, running to catch up with me. Beyond her I could see the church on the hill, gleaming white with its black, gabled roof. The doors were still closed. Nobody was leaving. They were still debating what to do about the stranger. She stopped running and drew level with me. She smiled.

  “Are you going back to the guesthouse?”

  I raised an eyebrow and smiled back. “Nowhere else to go.”

  She scowled and we fell into step. “That’s true enough…
Either way, you’ll need a key.”

  “I was planning to shoot out the look.”

  She gave a pretty laugh. “I’m sorry about the way they treated you back there. They’re basically good people, but…” She shrugged.

  I grunted. “Define good.”

  She glanced at me. “I guess so. The reverend isn’t as chicken as he seems. He has stood up to Vasco and Al when he’s had to. He believes what he preaches. He is a very committed Christian.”

  I nodded. “Groves’ wife is a lot younger than he is. That surprised me. I thought it was his daughter.”

  “Karen, and his son Arnold. It caused a big stir when they got married. That was before I was born, ’course, but people still talk about it. She’s about thirty or thirty-five years younger than him. They were married when she was just twenty and he was fifty or fifty-five. Almost straight away she got pregnant. There were those who said she was already pregnant and that’s why they married. Either way, it was just gossip. Small towns love to gossip.” She glanced at me. “I don’t see it makes much difference what age they are, so long as they love each other, right?”

  I nodded. “He’s a pretty formidable man. But she doesn’t seem very happy.”

  She raised her eyebrows high on her forehead and gave a small, pretty laugh. “They have a lot on their plates right now. He has four men missing, you threatening to call the sheriff and he must have a growing suspicion that his manager is involved in something pretty dark. He’s talking about dealing with the problem, but taking on Vasco without getting the law involved ain’t no easy matter.”

  “Why not?”

  We’d arrived at the guesthouse. I held the gate for her and she made her way down the path. A shadow passed over the garden and I looked up at the sky. The first clouds were closing in. Primrose opened the door and we went inside. I followed her into the living room, where there was a fire burning. She took off her mittens and stood in front of it, warming her hands.

  “Vasco has shares in the farm,” she said. “And there are rumors…”

  “What kind of rumors?”

  “That Karen and Vasco are having an affair. Groves would do just about anything to avoid a scandal, he’s real old school like that. So he turns a blind eye. On top of all that, his son is pretty sickly. He has some kind of disease. People say it’s because of the age difference, but I don’t believe that.”

  “An unhappy family.”

  She looked me in the face and seemed to study me. “What did you mean? What you said at the church, that you planned to make whoever it was pay, and they had to worry about you, not the law. What did you mean?”

  I looked away from her, shook my head. “It’s best you don’t know.”

  “Why?”

  “I need to get ready. I have to pack some things. I’ll catch you later.”

  I climbed the stairs, went to my room, and closed the door behind me. The fire here also was lit. I emptied my kit bag on the bed and took stock of my weapons. I had the bow and nine aluminum arrows left. I had the two Sig Sauers, two extended clips, and a box of ammunition. And I had my knife.

  I had all that and I had zero intelligence. All I knew was that Vasco was four men down, five if you included the dislocated shoulder. What that left him, I had no idea. And of those that were left, how many were loyal to Groves and how many were involved with Vasco, I had no idea. On top of that, I knew nothing about the farm, its layout, or where Vasco lived. And if my gut was right—and it always was—I didn’t have a lot of time for gathering intel.

  I heard the door open behind me. I turned. It was Primrose. She was staring at the stuff on the bed. I said, “You don’t knock?”

  Her eyes went to my face. “I’m sorry.”

  “What is it?”

  She came in and closed the door. “I need an answer, Lacklan.”

  I sighed. “You don’t, Primrose.” I sat on the bed and gestured at her. “You have a chance. Make a few smart choices, make an effort, you have a chance to be happy. I blew it. Without even realizing I was doing it, I devoted my life to killing. Some people are experts in law, medicine, building houses. Me? I’m an expert in killing.”

  I could see her breathing had quickened. “Are you going to kill Vasco?”

  “Yes.”

  “And then?”

  “Anyone else who was involved with him. Then I’ll continue on my way.”

  “Take me with you, Lacklan.”

  “No.”

  “Why?”

  I sighed. I stood and went to her. “Because I like you. Because you deserve better. Because I could never make you happy, or show you how to be happy. You don’t want to know about me, or get involved with me, Primrose. I’m bad news.”

  She came closer and put her hands gently on my chest. Her eyes said she was confused. “I don’t think you’re bad news, Lacklan. I think you’re good news. Don’t leave me stranded here.”

  I felt my heart give a jolt and my belly was on fire. I shook my head. When I spoke, my voice was a rasp. “Don’t, Primrose. Not now…”

  She stepped closer, so that her body pressed against mine. I gripped her shoulders, not knowing whether to crush her to me or push her away. She whispered, “Lacklan…”

  I growled, “I can’t…”

  Downstairs, the door opened. There was a whistle and a howl and I realized the wind was rising again. The glass in the window behind me rattled. Abi’s voice called out, “Primrose! Where are you?”

  Primrose closed her eyes and clenched her teeth. “Shit! That woman!”

  She turned on her heel and wrenched open the door. “Yes, Mom! I’m here!”

  The door slammed, cutting off Abi’s reply, but it sounded like she was asking her what she was doing upstairs. I smiled without much amusement and told myself it had been a close call. I’ve never had much time for morality. It’s too much like trying to fit square pegs in round holes. But Marni had flitted through my mind while I held Primrose, and that had troubled me. On the other hand, I told myself, if tonight was my night to die, that would have been a nice memory to take to Valhalla with me.

  I returned to the bed and studied my weapons again. I had nothing like enough for a full assault, especially against an unknown target. That meant I had to divide my attack in two parts; an initial recon mission, and then an attack based on what I found. It was the only plan open to me, but it had a big drawback: it required time, and time was one thing I did not have.

  So I would have to take all my weapons, do my reconnaissance, decide on an attack, and go for it. At least, I told myself, I knew my primary target—Joe Vasco.

  I heard the door open behind me again and felt a stab of irritation. I turned and saw not Primrose, but her mother, standing in the doorway and looking at the weapons on the bed, like an echo of her daughter. She closed the door and stared into my face.

  “What are you doing, Lacklan?”

  I lied. “I’m packing to leave.”

  “You can’t.” She shook her head. “You can’t do that.”

  I frowned. “Why not? I have to go. Apart from anything else, Abi, I can’t put your family at risk, and as long as I am here, they are. You know that.”

  She came close to me and placed her hand on my arm. “The storm. You’ll never make it. They’re saying it’s going to be heavier even than last night. You’ll have to stay, at least for the night.”

  “Abi, I…”

  “Lacklan, wait, what you said at the church…”

  “That’s why I have to go.”

  “No, wait.” She took a step closer, looked up into my face. “What do you intend to do?”

  It was like a weird replay of her daughter. I wondered if they realized how alike they were. I frowned, feeling I was repeating myself. “It’s best you don’t know, Abi.”

  “We have been lost, at the mercy of these men.”

  “Do you know something? Abi, if there is something that you can tell me, I need to know.”

  She shook her head. �
��No.” Then she hesitated. “I mean… We were so scared, Lacklan. We were terrified. And Al told us, if we trusted him and his men, he would take care of everything. And we trusted them…” She moved to the chair and sat, staring at the weapons on the bed.

  I waited, then said, “But...”

  “It was unspoken.” She looked up at me. “That’s the word, the key word, ‘unspoken’. Joe…”

  “Vasco?”

  She nodded. “And his men. It started with a free coffee now and then, then it was free breakfasts. Then they’d come in, in the evenings, and Joe would never pay for his drinks… It was unspoken, but it was understood that he and his men had privileges. The tradeoff was that we all knew that those privileges did not include our daughters.”

  “Your husband tried to do something about it?”

  She nodded again. “He didn’t like the way Joe was looking at Primrose. He didn’t like the arrangement that had been made. He’d been a soldier, like you. He was a brave man. He went to confront Joe. We found him a day later by the side of the road. He’d been hit by a truck. That was the story.”

  “That’s where Sean gets his spirit from.”

  She smiled at me, and there was gratitude in her eyes. “But spirit isn’t enough, is it, Lacklan? You understand that.”

  “Yes, I understand that very well.” I gave a small laugh she didn’t understand, and echoed what I had said earlier to her daughter. “Some people become experts in law, or medicine, or architecture. They wouldn’t win their cases or save their patients, or build their houses on spirit alone. Making war, fighting, killing people, is just the same. It requires skill, planning, and expert execution.”

  She studied my eyes for a long moment, speaking to me in a wordless language. Finally, she said, “I saw it in you from the moment you walked in, with Peggy in your arms. I knew it.” She shook her head. “You don’t need to leave. Whatever they said at the congregation, whatever Al said, I will stand beside you.”