He turned his emotionless gaze on her. "You have been judged and found guilty, Avery Chauvin. Of crimes against this community. Of attempting to bring an end to a way of life that has existed for a century. The Seven will decide your fate."
CHAPTER 53
Avery fought to keep hysteria at bay as Matt forced her deeper into the bowels of the charred canning factory. The odor, simply unpleasant from the outside, turned foul inside. Overpowering, like the stench of the grave.
Her throat and eyes burned. She saw that parts of the interior, though fire damaged, were still intact. Here and there a wall stood, oddly unmarred. A piece of untouched furniture sat beside a gaping hole in the flooring, as if the flames had been fickle, choosing one but not another.
Matt nudged her forward, gun between her shoulder blades. Obviously, he had spent a good bit of time here. Though the place was as dark as the devil's will, he guided her through the charred landscape without hesitation.
He pressed his mouth to her ear. "We're going up. But watch your step, you wouldn't want to miss your date with my generals."
"Go to hell."
He laughed, the sound delighted. "We're there, don't you think?"
She did, though she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of a response.
They made their way up the fire-ravaged stairs. As they did he murmured directions in her ear, "Step left, skip the next stair, go all the way right."
She stumbled and righted herself, a difficult feat without her arms for balance. He didn't offer a hand and she sensed he enjoyed watching her struggle. That her discomfort amused him.
Finally at the top landing, she could see. A portion of the roof was gone and moonlight spilled through the opening, revealing a rabbit's warren of doors, hallways and half walls.
They stopped in front of a closed door fixed with a padlock. "We're here," he said.
He took his eyes off her as he unlocked the door. She glanced back toward the stairs. She could take her chances, run. But how far would she get before she stumbled, fell through the floor or he shot her in the back? Two steps? A half-dozen?
"Go ahead," he murmured as if reading her thoughts. "Take your chance. As you lay bleeding to death from internal injuries, you'll beg me to finish you off with a bullet."
"Bastard."
"You think so, that's understandable, I suppose." He unfastened the padlock, swung the door open. "But future generations will hold me up as a hero. A visionary."
"Future generations?" she spat. "You'll be reviled, then forgotten as you rot in a cell at Angola. Or the Feliciana Forensic Facility for the Criminally Insane in Jackson."
"Poor Avery," he murmured. "Blind like the others. In you go." He grabbed her arm and shoved her violently through the door. Without her arms to break her fall, she landed on her knees, then pitched forward. Her chin struck the concrete floor.
Matt chuckled as he slammed and locked the door behind her. She managed to get to her feet, ran to the door. She threw herself against it. "Bastard!" she shouted, kicking it. "You won't get away with this!"
"Don't waste your energy, there's no way out."
The whispered advice came from behind her. Avery whirled around. "Gwen?"
"The one and only."
Avery searched the interior, eyes not yet accustomed to the darkness. "Where are you?"
"Here."
She saw her then, on the floor, pressed into the far corner. Avery hurried to her side and knelt beside her. "Thank God, I thought…I thought you-"
"Were dead. I did, too."
Avery saw that she was hurt. The right side of her head was crusted with dried blood, her blond hair matted with it.
Avery pictured the blood on Gwen's bathroom door. He must have knocked her out. "When did he do it?"
"The storm," Gwen whispered. "I awoke, he was there, in my room. I thought he was going to kill me. But he brought me here, instead." Gwen bent and rested her forehead against Avery's. "I prayed you'd come. But not this way."
With the police.
But Matt was the police.
"We're going to get out of this." Avery frowned. "He said The Seven would decide my fate. I think they're meeting here tonight."
"He's going to kill us, isn't he?"
He or one of his generals. "Let's not think about that now." Avery moved her gaze over the room's walls. Judging by its size and the shelving along one wall, the room had been a storage closet. "Have you looked for a way out?"
"There's none."
"You're sure?"
"Yes." Gwen's voice broke. "I don't want to die, Avery. Not now. Not like this."
"We will if we give up, that's for sure. Can you stand?"
She nodded and, using the wall for leverage, inched to her feet.
"Good," Avery murmured. "Our only shot may be trying to over-power him when he comes for us. One of us can rush him while the other goes for his gun. Or runs."
It sounded lame even to Avery's own ears. Overpower Matt? Her arms were secured behind her back and Gwen was almost too weak to stand. But she refused to give up. Refused to die without a fight.
"All right," Gwen said, though her voice quivered. "You tell me what to do and I'll do it."
A rapping sound caught her attention. Avery stilled, listening. It had come from behind the shelves.
The sound came again and Avery realized what it was. Matt, calling The Seven to order.
"Come on, Gwen. Let's see if we can move these shelves."
The shelves were metal and heavy, though not bolted in place. Together they eased one unit away from the wall, Gwen using her arms, Avery her body as a wedge.
They managed to create a space big enough to slip behind.
Once behind the shelves Avery found herself, absurdly, reassured by the small, tight space. It felt safe. Like a womb. Like a child's perfect hiding place. The one where nobody could ever find her.
As a kid she'd had several. She'd been good at hide-and-seek, had had the ability to slip into nooks and crannies and remain still and silent for long periods of time. Sometimes so long, the person who was "It" gave up.
Even as she wondered if Matt would give up if she was quiet enough, still enough, she acknowledged the stupidity of the thought.
Gwen followed her in. They both put an ear to the wall.
Matt was talking. He named her and Gwen as defendants, listing their crime as treason. He called for questions and comments from his generals.
Who were they? Avery wondered, straining to hear. Old friends of hers? Neighbors? Someone she had gone to school with? Would they feel any loyalty to her? Any regret?
Gwen met Avery's eyes and shook her head, indicating she couldn't hear what they were saying.
Avery couldn't either and pressed her ear closer, straining. Matt murmured a reply she couldn't make out, then paused as if listening to another question. She heard him mention his father, voice breaking.
Buddy had not been a part of this inner circle, that had become clear to her back at the cabin. That he had not been party to their extremist ideology had also become obvious. But still, she wondered, would they simply sit back and condone his murder?
If their silence was an indication, they accepted their leader's actions without question. Who were they? she wondered again, disbelieving. Who had he convinced to join his insane cause?
Avery jumped as Matt once again called for order. "A vote, then," he said loudly. "Guilty or not?"
Silence ensued. The seconds ticked past. Avery realized that she was sweating. Holding her breath though she had no real doubt what the outcome would be.
"It's unanimous then," Matt boomed. "The Seven find Gwen Lancaster and Avery Chauvin guilty of treason."
CHAPTER 54
Hunter paced the length of the windowless interrogation room. Two CSPD uniforms had retrieved him from his home that morning. His father had requested they pick him up, they'd said. Bring him in for questioning. Cooperation hadn't been an option.
They had dumped him
here, told him Buddy would be in shortly and left. That had been nearly twelve hours ago.
He stopped. Moved his gaze over the room. A single table made out of wood. Three chairs, also made out of wood. They'd been around a while and bore the evidence of each of those years in the form of cigarette burns, chips, scratches and carvings. He continued his inspection. No fire alarm. No phone. Reinforced door, locked from the outside.
This was wrong. He had known it was wrong this morning. Had sensed a setup.
The officers had said it was about Avery. She was in trouble. Buddy had said to tell him that.
So he had come. And left Avery on the outside. Alone.
He pivoted and crossed to the door. "This is bullshit!" he shouted and pounded on it. "Charge me or release me!"
He pressed his ear to the door, swearing at the silence on the other side. He had to get out of here. Avery was in trouble.
He pounded again. "Hey! I gotta take a piss. Unless you want a mess to clean up, you better get your asses to this doo-"
The door swung open. A pimply-faced officer with big ears stood on the other side, Cherry directly behind him.
"Cherry?" Hunter said, surprised. "What are you doing here?"
"Dad needs our help. Inside," she ordered the officer, nudging him forward.
With a gun, Hunter saw. A big gun. A.357 Magnum, long barrel. He returned his gaze to hers. "You really know how to use that?"
"I'm not dignifying that with an answer." She grabbed his arm with her free hand. "Come on, we need to get out of here."
She pulled him through the door, slamming and locking it behind him. She pocketed the key. The officer began pounding on the door.
"What the hell's going on?"
"We'll talk in the car." She hurried forward. "Sammy there was manning the station alone, but the patrol guys are going to be checking in soon."
"What time is it?"
"Eight-thirty."
"I've been locked in that room since early this morning, I need to use the John."
"Make it quick."
She was waiting for him when he emerged moments later. Wordlessly, they went to her car and climbed in. His mother sat in the back seat. She had been crying: her eyes were red and swollen, her skin blotchy.
She looked on the verge of falling apart.
He glanced over at Cherry. "Somebody better start talking, fast."
Cherry pulled away from the curb. "Dad said if we didn't hear from him by eight, to come and get you."
"Get me? What was I doing there?"
"He wanted you to be somewhere safe. He figured locked up at the CSPD was about as safe as he could find."
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"Matt's the one," she said. "And he's got Avery."
CHAPTER 55
"The one?" Hunter moved his gaze between the two women. "What do you mean?"
"The one who killed Elaine St. Claire and Trudy Pruitt." Cherry's voice shook. "He killed Avery's dad as well. At least, we think so. Dad told us before he went after them."
"I didn't know," Lilah whispered. "I thought…all these years, I thought I killed Sallie Waguespack. And now-" her voice broke "-and now I wish I had."
"It's not your fault," Cherry murmured. "You didn't know what he had become, neither did I."
Hunter struggled to come to grips with what they were saying. Struggled not to give in to panic. "What's he become? I don't understand. What did you have to do with Sallie Waguespack's death?"
Lilah met his eyes. "I better start at the beginning."
She told him about his father's affair, Buddy's lover's pregnancy. About going there to plead for her husband.
And about what followed.
"Until tonight, I thought I'd killed her. Buddy…he kept that secret from everyone."
"When people began dying, he reasoned the deaths away," Cherry interjected. "He accepted them as accidents and suicides because…the other was unthinkable.
"Avery forced him to reevaluate," his sister continued. "Her questions. Her unshaking belief that her father hadn't killed himself. Then, when Trudy Pruitt was killed-"
"He was forced to admit what was happening," Hunter said. "That everybody involved in the cover-up had croaked. Except him."
"And Matt." She flexed her fingers on the steering wheel. "He knew for certain today, when he learned about Avery's mother's journals. That's why Matt set the house on fire."
"Slow down. Avery's mother journaled-"
"Every day since she was a teenager," Lilah said. "Avery called about them the other day, wondering if I had any idea what happened to her mother's journals. I mentioned the call to Matt."
Cherry took over. "Avery found the journals. Her mother wrote about The Seven. And Sallie Waguespack being pregnant. Somehow Matt found out and torched her house to destroy the evidence. And now, Gwen Lancaster's missing."
Lilah moaned. "That poor girl. I tried to warn her. I called…was going to meet her…try to convince her to go. Buddy overheard me…he kept me from…"
She dissolved into tears. Hunter looked at his sister, who continued. "Dad checked out Gwen's room, found evidence that indicated foul play. He figured Matt…that if he had her, had her cell phone. That he'd retrieved Avery's messages."
And now he had Avery. Hunter went cold with fear.
Silence fell between them. Cherry broke it. "There's one more thing, Hunter. Matt knew about you and Avery. That you had become-romantically involved. He told Dad. He was in a rage. A cold rage. Dad was afraid for your life."
"So he locked me up."
"Yes. Until he could figure out what to do about Matt. How to protect him."
"Protect Matt!" Hunter exploded. "He's a murderer! He should be behind-"
"He's his son!" she returned, cutting him off. "What was he supposed to do?"
"The right thing, dammit! People are dying!"
She fell silent. Lilah sobbed quietly. Hunter fought to get a grip on his emotions.
"What about Tom Lancaster?" he asked. "And McDougal? How do they fit in?"
"Dad didn't know for sure." She turned onto Highway 421. "Matt was obsessed with The Seven, which could explain Lancaster. But McDougal, he didn't see a connection. There might be none."
"What about Avery?" he demanded. "Where is she?"
"Dad thought the old hunting cabin. The one Grandpa used."
"You've called the authorities, right?" They didn't respond and he made a sound of disbelief. "The sheriff? State police?"
"Buddy said we should keep it to ourselves. Keep it in the family."
"Son of a bitch! Cell phone?" They shook their heads. "How many guns do we have?"
"Just the one."
"Shit. Fucking great."
"But Buddy's here," Lilah said. "He'll-"
"He's in trouble. Or he would have called long before now."
The women couldn't argue with that and they rode the rest of the way in silence. They turned onto No Name Road and moments later the access road that led to the cabin.
They reached it. Two cars sat out front-an unmarked sedan with a dome light on the dash and a CSPD cruiser.
"They're here," Cherry said, voice quivering. She looked at Hunter. "What now?"
He thought a moment. "One of us should stay here, stand watch. Keep the car running in case we need to get out fast. Honk if there's trouble."
Hunter and Cherry looked at their mother then at each other, silently acknowledging she was incapable of the responsibility.
"I'll do it," Cherry offered. "Mom can stay with me. You take the gun."
Lilah tried to argue; Hunter cut her off. "If there's gunfire, I don't want to be worrying about you instead of my own hide. Got that?"
"I agree," Cherry said quickly. "Absolutely."
She handed him the gun, butt out. "You know how to use one of these?"
He took it from her. Like his sister and brother, he had grown up handling a gun. It had been a while but some things you never forgot. He checked
the chamber, saw that it carried a full round and snapped it shut. "Yeah," he answered. "Point and shoot."
He climbed out of the car. Weapon out, he crossed to the other vehicles and peered inside. They were empty.
He glanced back at Cherry and pointed toward the cabin. She nodded.
He made his way cautiously toward it. A traditional raised cabin, he climbed the three stairs to the front porch. Half-rotted, they creaked under his weight.
The cabin door was unlocked. He eased it open, then slipped through, pausing to listen.
It was silent. Too silent. The hair on his arms stood up. He inched across the main room, toward the kitchen. It proved empty. The small window above the sink stood open; flies buzzed around an overflowing garbage pail. He saw dirty dishes in the sink.
The cabin might be empty now, but it had been occupied recently. He swiveled, crossed to the bathroom. He found it as deserted as the other two rooms.
Only the bedroom remained. He made his way there, heart pounding. The first thing he saw was the bed, the nylon rope attached to the foot posts, the length coiled on the bare mattress.
Someone had been tied to the bed. The blood rushed from his head. He laid a hand on the doorjamb for support.
Not someone. Avery.
He shifted his gaze and froze. Peeking out from the far side of the bed was the toe of a boot. One he recognized-alligator hide, a deep green-hued black.
His father had worn those boots, made from the hide of a gator he'd caught, for twenty years.
Denial rose in him as he made his way into the room. Around the bed. His father lay facedown in a pool of blood, head twisted at an unnatural angle.
Hunter stumbled backward. Pivoting, he ran back through the cabin and onto the porch. His sister sat behind the wheel of the vehicle, door open. "Cherry," he shouted. "Use Dad's radio, get an ambulance. Tell them an officer's down."
She leaped out of the vehicle, alarmed. "An officer? Dad or-"
"Do it, Cherry. Now!"
Without waiting for her to comply, he returned to his father's side. He knelt beside him, felt for a pulse. Found none.
In Silence Page 32
