Confessions: Priest (Confessions Series Book 3)

by Ella Frank

  THE HIGH-PITCHED SOUND of a mosquito in Joel’s ear zipped and zapped from his left to his right as Victor wove the aluminum airboat through the narrow channels of the bayou, and expertly dodged the gnarled roots that grew out of the water like tentacles on some alien life form. At least, that was the story Joel was making up in his head to take his mind off the truth, which was far scarier than aliens invading.

  It was a Friday afternoon and the sun was blistering as it shone down on them, the humidity so thick it made the clothes stick to your body as though you’d just stepped out of the shower wearing them.

  Today had been the day his father was supposed to meet him at school for his parent/teacher meeting with Mr. Stevens. But after an hour had passed, and Mr. Stevens had checked his watch for the hundredth time, Victor had knocked on the classroom door instead, causing a sense of unease to rise in Joel’s stomach.

  As tall as a mountain, and as burly as a bear, Victor was a man of few words and living relatives, which made him perfect. He had no family, no ties, except a son a couple of years younger than Joel, and he was as loyal as a Labrador to Big Jimmy, whom the entire town feared due to his reputation for dealing harshly with those who got on his wrong side.

  It was a side Joel witnessed often these days, as his father seemed intent on bringing him deeper into the fold. But even at the tender age of seven, Joel knew enough to tell good from bad when he saw it, and the town was smart to stay away from Jimmy Donovan, because nothing but pure evil resided in his heart.

  As the boat made the final turn on the waterway, a cottonmouth darted out from under it and skimmed across the water, making Joel shudder. He hated this place. He’d only ever been there once, a couple of weeks ago, when his father had given him his first hunting knife and decided to teach him how to kill a snake. It was a day Joel was still trying to erase from his memory. He hated the thought of killing anything, but Jimmy had been insistent that day, handing Joel the knife and telling him exactly how to cut off the snake’s head, nice and clean. Jimmy also explained that even though the head was cut off the body, the snake could still land a deadly blow.

  This place was full of things that could hurt you. That was the other reason it made Joel’s skin crawl. There were dangerous creatures lurking beneath the surface wherever you looked, and as the boat slowed near the dock, Joel’s eyes latched on to the thing he knew was the deadliest of all—his father.

  As Jimmy pushed open the rickety wooden door, making it slap against the side of the shack, his shrewd eyes focused on the boat now docking at the pier. The loud thwack sent the two herons wading in the reeds flying up into the clear blue sky, and as Joel watched the man he feared more than the devil walk down the beat-up stairs, he wished that he could escape the same way.

  Tall and muscled, Jimmy was intimidating even without the glower he always seemed to sport. But once you added that, it was easy to see why men cowered before him. Whether it was because they owed him money, drugs, alcohol, or a favor, no one walked away from Jimmy unscathed if they were brought before him to atone for their sins.

  Jimmy wore a grey Irish flat cap that covered hair a brighter shade than his son’s, and also had on grey pants held up by suspenders over a white shirt with grey stripes. He’d rolled the sleeves up his thick forearms, as though he were about to do some hard work, and as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his pants, Joel couldn’t help but wonder what exactly his father had in store for him today.

  Joel got to his feet and walked to the edge of the boat, knowing how his father hated waiting for anyone, even his son. But something caught his eye off to his right, and Joel quickly turned to look out into the scrub, knowing there were gators all over this area. As he did, his foot caught on something wrapped up in a tarp, and when he fell over and landed hard on the bed of the boat, he was grateful he hadn’t landed in the water where one of those reptiles might decide he looked like a bite-sized treat.

  “Get up, boy,” Victor drawled, and as Joel went to push up to his feet, the sun reflected on something shiny, making it glow like a flashlight. He focused on the light spilling out from under the tarp and squinted against the brightness of it—

  “I said, get up.” This time Victor grabbed Joel’s arm and hauled him to his feet before he could work out what exactly he was looking at.

  When Jimmy reached the boat, he looked to Victor, who let Joel go with a slight shove to his shoulder, and Joel’s eyes shifted to his father. He had the fleeting thought that maybe he should take his chances with the alligator- and snake-infested waters instead of these two.

  “Joel, get over here,” his father ordered him, and Joel ducked his head as he came to a stop at the edge of the boat. “Victor explained why I couldn’t be there today?”

  Not really, no, but Joel wasn’t going to argue, so he merely nodded.

  For a long time now, he’d been teaching himself how to be invisible around his father and his men. Having grown up without a mother—or any other living relative, according to Jimmy—he’d learned quickly that the best way to survive in a crowd like that was to either become one of them or fade into the background and hope to God they forgot you existed. Something he’d gotten down to an art form, until today.

  “Good,” Jimmy said as he held a hand out to help his son onto the dock, and Joel hesitated for a moment. “Come on, Joel,” Jimmy barked. “Get off the damn boat. It’s hotter than six shades of hell out here today.”

  Then why are we here?

  It was a good question, one Joel might’ve asked if he was any other boy and Jimmy was any other father. But he wasn’t, and one never questioned Jimmy. So Joel took his father’s hand and climbed over the side of the boat. He saw his father glance at Victor and give a clipped nod, some kind of unspoken message passing between them.

  “Let’s go. Victor has to unload the boat, and while he does that, I’m going to tell you about the little father/son project we’re going to do today.” Jimmy led Joel up the narrow wooden pier, and Joel followed in silence—of course he did—but something felt very wrong, and when they entered the shack and he saw his large hunting knife, a bowl of water, and rope on the table, Joel suddenly wished the sun had melted him back there on the pier.

  “I decided that talk I was going to have with Mr. Stevens would be much more productive if we did it in private, out here. Instead of in town, at your school.”

  Jimmy walked over to the table and picked up the knife. “Do you remember the last time you were out here with me, son?”

  Joel’s heart was jackrabbiting so hard it was making the blood ring in his ears, and when he didn’t immediately answer, his father said, “Joel, do you remember?”

  Joel gulped in some air and nodded as the door to the tiny shack was yanked open and Victor marched inside with the rolled-up tarp from the boat slung over his shoulder. His father didn’t even flinch as Victor walked between them and around to the lone chair at the table, and when he dropped the dead weight onto that chair, the loud noise made Joel jump.

  “Good,” Jimmy said. “I’m glad you remember that. Because today I’m going to show you the importance of a clean cut.”

  As the word cut left Jimmy’s mouth, Victor yanked the tarp down.

  When a familiar face came into view, Joel’s legs began to tremble and his bottom lip quivered uncontrollably as recognition dawned. He was standing opposite his teacher, Mr. Stevens.

  As the teacher’s eyes began to open, Victor threw the bowl of water in his face, making Mr. Stevens sputter and shake his head, and when he was finally awake and alert, his gaze frantically darted around the shack. First to Victor, then to Jimmy, and finally to his star pupil—the little boy who had just pissed himself.

  Joel shrank back toward the wall by the door, reaching for something to steady him so he could make a run for it. But before he got two steps, his father’s hand clamped down on his shoulder.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” Jimmy asked, and Joel tore his eyes away from his te
acher to look up at his father. Jimmy’s face began to blur, but there was nothing Joel could do to stop the tears from coming, as he realized what was about to happen here.

  What had Mr. Stevens done? What did he owe Jimmy?

  As those thoughts ran through Joel’s head, Victor yanked down the left side of the tarp, pulled Mr. Stevens’s arm out and pinned it to the table.

  Joel’s breath caught on a shaky gasp, as he tried to suck the air down into his lungs so he could find his voice to plead with his father not to do whatever it was he was about to do. But before he could get a word out, Jimmy shoved Joel forward, closer to the table, and said to the man with the frenzied eyes, “Paul, it’s so nice to see you again.”

  Mr. Stevens—Paul—was looking between father and son now, and when his eyes found Joel’s, they had a desperate edge in them, as though Joel, a seven-year-old, would somehow be able to save Paul from whatever Jimmy had planned.

  “I believe you know my son.”

  When Paul didn’t answer, Victor grabbed a handful of the teacher’s sandy hair and jerked his head back so he was looking at Jimmy, not Joel.

  “I said, do you know my son?”

  “Yes…of course,” Paul said, and nervously licked his top and bottom lip.

  “Then you know who I am?” Jimmy asked, and Paul tried to move, but Victor tightened both holds. “I recommend you stay still. He’s strong enough to snap your neck.” Paul froze. “Back to the question. Do you know who I am?”

  “Ye-ye-yes,” Paul said, and Jimmy nodded as he moved closer to the table, prodding Joel in the shoulder so he too had to move. “You’re Joel’s father. We were supposed to meet for his parent/teacher talk.”

  “That’s correct,” Jimmy said, the knife in his hand gleaming as he walked over to the table. “I’m also the man you stole from two weeks ago. The man whose drugs you are trying to sell for profit. Ring any bells?”

  As Paul began to shake his head, Victor grabbed the rope from the table and began to tie Paul’s arm to the chair.

  “No, no, you don’t have to do that,” Paul said. “This is a mistake. I didn’t do what you’re saying.” He tried to pull his arm free, his watch catching on the sunlight and lighting the place up like a beacon.

  “Really?” Jimmy said. “Because I spoke to someone a week ago who told me that one of the school teachers in town sold them some of my drugs for a much steeper price, claiming they were better than Donovan’s. Imagine my surprise when I found out it was my son’s teacher.”

  Joel frantically tugged on his father’s arm then, not caring if Jimmy got mad because he interrupted—Joel wanted to do something to distract his father and maybe save Paul from whatever was about to happen.

  But Jimmy was focused. There was no swaying him.

  “Why would you do something so stupid, Paul?” Jimmy asked, as Victor moved to stand behind him.

  “I…I told you,” Paul said. “It wasn’t me. Why would I do that, when I know Joel’s your son? I’m just a…just a school teacher.”

  “I don’t think so. But this will be the final lesson you teach, that I promise you,” Jimmy said, and turned to look down at Joel. “This man, he tried to steal from us. From you and me, Joel, and us Donovans? We can’t allow that.”

  Joel shook his head violently, even as it began to spin and the warm wetness of his pants became more pungent and uncomfortable in the humidity-soaked air.

  “Please, Dad. Don’t hurt him,” Joel said, trying to think of some way to appeal to the human part of Jimmy that might still exist under the monster. But those cold grey eyes held no emotion. They were lifeless, so frightening that Joel dropped his father’s arm and stumbled back a step.

  “It’s time for you to understand who I am, who you are in this town, Son. You’re a Donovan.”

  As Jimmy walked around the table, Paul looked to Joel one more time. “Help me. Please, Joel. I didn’t do this.”

  But Joel knew there was nothing he could do. Just as there was no way he could make his legs listen to his brain and help him escape. He was too scared to do anything other than stand there, glued to the spot by the fear of what was both inside and outside the shack.

  “I’ll never understand why people do things that will likely get them killed,” Jimmy said as he stopped by the arm that was secured to the chair. “It makes no sense to me. But maybe you can help. Why did you do this, Paul? Was it the money? Or were you high off your face?”

  Paul looked up to Jimmy, and as sweat and tears streaked his face, he shuddered.

  “No answer?” Jimmy said.

  Paul’s eyes flew to the knife that was now glinting in the sun where Jimmy was angling it for the best reflection, taunting his victim.

  “Maybe we can convince you to be a little more honest. Isn’t that what you’d want from your students? Honesty?”

  Paul shook his head, blinking madly to try and stave off the tears. “I…I didn’t do it.”

  “Hmm,” Jimmy said, and got to his feet, reaching down for Paul’s flat hand, as Victor clamped his hands down on Paul’s shoulders. “That’s what I thought you’d say. So it’s time to teach Joel what happens to someone when they steal and then lie to me about it.”

  With that, Jimmy raised the knife and swung it down with shocking force, ripping a scream from the teacher tied down—and the student standing opposite.

  ROBBIE DIDN’T DARE move. Not to get more comfortable, not even to breathe, as he sat there in the bed with his eyes fixated on the silent and still man in the corner.

  As Priest had been retelling his story, Julien had wrapped an arm around Robbie’s shoulders. Robbie wasn’t sure if it had been to comfort Julien or himself, but he appreciated the contact either way. Because while he couldn’t move, the reminder that he wasn’t by himself listening to one of the most horrific stories he’d ever heard made him feel slightly less alone.

  He’d figured whatever had happened to Priest was something nightmares were made of, since the man never slept longer than a handful of minutes at a time. But to hear him relay the story in such detail, in a voice that was unrecognizable, was truly frightening.

  It was as though Priest had left the condo, and in his place was a man watching a horror movie and adding subtitles for those who couldn’t hear what he did.

  “I remember screaming at the same time Mr. Stevens did,” Priest continued in that detached voice. “And even though I wanted to run, my legs, they wouldn’t move. Jimmy had used me to get to Paul Stevens, and as I stood there, all I could see was the sunlight bouncing off that fucking watch he’d been wearing, where it had fallen on the floor along with his hand.”

  Priest turned around and leaned on the desk in the corner of the bedroom. He gripped the wood until his knuckles looked as though they might crack, and then he raised his head and pinned Robbie with a look so direct that Robbie swore he felt it to the very depths of his soul.

  “If you were to ever read about this online, or watch the documentaries, you’d hear how it only took minutes—nine, to be exact—for Jimmy to cut off Paul Stevens’s hand just above his watch, and then slit his throat after Paul spent a solid minute pleading for his life.”

  Priest paused, his expression eerily calm as he stated these facts, but then he blinked, and his eyes filled with abject terror, as though he were hearing and seeing it all over again. “Nine minutes, I stood in that shoebox of a shack. And I heard and saw things that I will never be able to unhear or see again. It took eleven minutes for the police to bust down the door with their guns aimed at Jimmy’s and Victor’s heads while I stood in the same spot, my trousers soiled and Paul’s blood under my feet. They had been there all along, the police. They were who I’d heard when I was back in the boat, when I tripped and fell. They’d staked out my father’s place on the bayou after getting information he’d be meeting there with Victor that afternoon to handle a little ‘poaching’ problem. I had been a surprise they hadn’t counted on, which caused them to regroup and take longer to get i
n. It was probably what killed Paul—who, I found out later, did lie about those drugs he took. They had to work out how to deal with a kid they hadn’t counted on being present.”

  And what that kid had seen… Robbie slowly brought a hand up to cover his mouth, but when he realized it was shaking, he quickly lowered it again to jam it under his legs. What Priest had just told him was horrendous. Yet he seemed so…calm about it all.

  “Jimmy and Victor were arrested after that.” Priest swallowed then blinked, as though trying to erase that image and come back to the present. “And I learned that I had a grandmother on my mother’s side, who lived in Poulsbo, Washington. The police had tracked her down. She’d lived there for years, even though Jimmy had told me he was the only family I had.”

  Robbie wasn’t sure what he should or shouldn’t say, but if ever there was a time to ask questions, he knew this was it. “So you lived with your grandmother since you were seven?”

  “I did. Yes. I moved to Poulsbo. This picturesque little town where I knew no one, and no one knew me. She used to attend this beautiful church that sat up on the hill and overlooked Liberty Bay. She encouraged me to talk about what had happened when I was ready, and she and Father Daniels played an integral part in my turning out sane—for the most part. It was therapy of sorts, and it saved my life.”

  Wow. Robbie had learned more about Priest in the last hour than he had the entire time he’d known him, and what he was discovering was unbelievable and extraordinary.

  Julien had been right. It was incredible to see the kind of man Priest had become, considering where he’d started.

  “Is she…?” Robbie paused, but when he looked into Priest’s eyes, he knew there was no need to filter himself. Priest was open as a book right now. “Is she the one who helped you change your name?”

  Priest pushed off the desk, walked to the bed, and finally took up a seat beside Julien and Robbie again. He reached for the hand Robbie had shoved under his leg and held it between his.

  “No. She passed away when I was seventeen. I was the only one named in her will, and when I turned eighteen, Father Daniels took me to get that done and helped me enroll in college. The two of them set the course of my life after that.”