I ignored her question and instead reached into my pocket for my cell phone.
It didn’t matter that it seven o’clock on a Saturday morning. I bet any bonus that this was the break they needed. His voice mail answered. “Harry, I think we need to look at the grandmother and see if she would be willing to answer some questions for us. I’m on my way over to Mr. Melancon’s to poke around. There is something bothering me about the boots... Kristy kept mentioning boots, and he was processed without any on. Call me and bring Detective Lazarus with you. I think I found the actual killer.”
22
“I’m not dropping you off to go get in trouble,” Mom said and pulled the car over on the side of the road.
“I’m just going to be doing my job,” I said.
“Your job is to push paper, and not to be out and about trying to solve a dangerous matter. You don’t even have a weapon.”
“Why, when I’d just be shot with it myself. Will it help you if I called Eddie and had him join me out there? Me not going alone?”
“Yes,” she practically demanded it.
Her worry irked me, but I also recognized the fear on her face.
I reached over and grabbed her hand. “Mom, it is going to be okay. You have to let me do this, and trust me to do it properly.”
I paused, waiting, hoping she’d give in.
“Call Eddie,” she said, resigned.
“You’re making it seem like I really won’t call him.”
“I know you. You did the same thing when you were growing up. Made me think you were heading over to your father’s house for the weekend and really ended up going to a concert with your boyfriend of then.”
I thought for a moment and remembered what was to be the best weekend of my life, but ended up with me being left in the cold, having to call home to get my Mom to come pick me up. She had been more than upset that day, fearful. I could see it again in her face. She wouldn’t say it, but I knew it in her silence and her raw knuckled gripping of the steering wheel.
Punching in Eddie’s number, I prayed for voice mail again. “Hi Eddie,” I said, hearing his message on the phone, promptly followed by a beep.
“Eddie,” I said pausing, hoping mom would buy that he was on the other side of the line. “Mom wanted me to call you and let you know that I plan to do something stupid.”
I paused again.
“No, this is not stupid.”
“Yes, it is,” Mom interjected.
“I know who really killed the Melancon family and I am heading over to get proof of the evidence before it disappears. Mom is going to let me use her car, and then I will head over there. Can you meet me in thirty minutes? Sounds great. Thanks bunches.”
Touching the END button, the screen cleared, and the call ended.
“So, he is okay with this?” Mom asked.
“Yes, I told you he would be. We have that sort of relationship,” I said.
“A relationship that lets you do stupid things.”
“Stupid is not a nice word, grandma,” Kitt said.
I’d been so focused on my goal that I’d forgotten all about the little girl in the back who continued to color in her coloring book.
“When I get back tonight, we can discuss it all,” I said, “but the longer I wait, the more chance I have that what could free this poor kid is going to disappear. Just help me, Mom, please.”
23
The gravel crunched under the car tires, and the sight of the shotgun house jutting out from the array of foliage and trees neared.
I straightened my back and metaphorically pulled up my big girl drawers. Courage, it would be what I’d need to get over this darkness that sought to drag me under. Maybe free myself. This would be my map. It would be what I needed to make this all work and work out better.
Palming my car keys, I tapped on the door, rapping against the metal screen door. In the distance, I heard the dogs barking; cows mooing, chickens clucking and footsteps coming up from behind me. I quickly turned.
“May I help you?” Mrs. Melancon asked. She held a shotgun to her side.
“Yes, I was looking to ask Kristy a couple of questions. I was out in the area and thought this would be a great time to get it done, instead of waiting until Monday. Is she in?” My eyes drifted from her face, down to her soiled muck boots.
“Yes, she is.”
She pulled open the screen which creaked, and pushed open the front door. Stepping across the threshold, I noticed that the bloodied stains were still there. The walls still had not been wiped down; the tracks almost like a shrine, of what one could consider beautiful.
“Must be hard to be here, with everything reminding you all of them,” I said. I kept walking forward.
“You’d think so, right? It’s just so quiet.”
“Where is she?” I asked. The hairs on my neck began to rise.
“She’s there in the back, in the kitchen.”
I didn’t hear any noises coming from the kitchen. No sounds of activity in the distance, just dead silence.
“Kristy,” I called out. My footsteps began to lose their spring.
When I reached out my hand, almost stumbling, my hand touched the wall. I felt the cool wetness on my fingers. Looking down, redness glistened on my fingertips.
“I was hoping you wouldn’t see that.”
I turned to see the gun rising. The barrel faced me.
They say when you’re close to death your life flashes before you. In that moment, I didn’t think about all of the arguments Eddie and I had shared, the stupid reasons and rumors I’d heard from his friends. All I saw were the moments I regretted, and the love I’d let slip away.
I saw his face. One I’d never get to caress, or hold. I’d judged him for all the things I wanted him to be, and not allowed him to be the man he always was.
Worst of all, I thought of my mother, who’d have another daughter to bury.
Raising my hands, I continued to slowly walk backwards, bypassing room after room, filled with fresh and old blood smears. My mind on hyper-speed, thinking of ways to escape to get away.
“They were all beautiful kids, and we all do things to protect our children.” The shotgun slid, reloading.
Taking one last step, I stumbled over something, falling. My hands caught me as I fell into the puddle of blood beside the unmoving body. The body of Kristy laid there, half of her face blown off. Her hands tied behind her back. Out the back door, and within view was a fresh grave.
Kristy’s blood soaked through my clothes, weighing me down in her death.
“Everything I did for her, and she couldn’t stomach the thought of continuing on. It’s a shame what suicide will do.”
There was no gun nearby, no chair on which she was supposedly to have sat. Nothing to signify that what Mrs. Melancon said was indeed true.
“Grief does a lot to a person. I understand that Mrs. Melancon, but this isn’t the way to go about it. Tommy needs you. He needs his family.”
“And that is why he’s still alive. I could never stomach the thought of my husband touching my daughter, and then when they produced a child, I did what anyone would do. I told her to get rid of it. I was trying to look the other way. To be the woman and wife my parents had raised me to be. You see, I don’t believe in divorce, but what do you say when your husband starts telling you that your daughter is attractive, or what’s even worse, when they start making plans to run away together?”
“And the children?” I asked.
“Collateral damage. When they got sick, I knew something was wrong. I’d been saving the Hemlock for a special occasion, and it went missing, and the kids then got sick. They’d not used enough of it, I knew. So, when he snuck down here from the house, I followed him. He went from room to room wiping them all out. By the time I entered, it was too late to save anyone. I heard them.
“Hiding behind the bedroom door, next to the master, I remember the door creaked open and there Vernon rested, sound asleep -- a
drugged sleep. Nate took the gun, aimed it close to point-blank range and pulled the trigger.
“I couldn’t see Kristy so well, but I’m guessing she was in the bathroom since they didn’t find any of Vernon’s blood on her. He said: ‘Shit, Kristy. You almost made me shoot you.’ And you know what she answered? She asked him, ‘Are you done, pa?’”
“It stung my heart. I loved those children and went through hell to try to raise them, to make them good people, but their mother was just tainted. He always told me that Kristy seduced him, and at that moment, I saw it in her.”
“What happened next?” I asked, hoping to keep her talking. Maybe Eddie would get my message in time.
“She copped an attitude with him, and he tried to placate her. He said, ‘I’m almost done. Now, this is going to sting like the devil, but I’m far enough away that this is only going to be a superficial wound. I’ve practiced it enough to know what I’m doing.’ Practiced, just like he did it back in ‘67 when he survived.
“Kristy’s voice was filled with panic when he raised the gun though. He tried reassuring her, like when he took her horseback riding the first time. They always had a bond that I just couldn’t compete with.
“’Just trust me and stick to the plan,’ he said. He stepped back into the hallway until she was just enough away for her to still be hit but no fatal damage. He must have nodded or something because the last thing I heard her say was ’Now, pa! Shoot me now!’ And that’s what he did.”
“This information will help get Tommy off. He’ll be able to come home with your testimony,” I said.
“That would be beautiful, but this land is cursed. This family is cursed. It takes an innocent sacrifice to make it all right. Don’t you agree, Ms. Jones?”
“Out the back door please,” she continued.
“No, if I do, you’re going to shoot me.”
“Even if you don’t, I will.” She raised the gun and stuck it in my back.
“I had prepared this for Kristy, but seems like you might be a better fit. Get in.”
Feeling the nozzle on my spine, I breathed, and then spun outward. Knocking the shotgun to the side. She discharged it, pulling the trigger. The sound of the blast wouldn’t cut through my meditation, my muscle memory, and my breath.
I gripped the top of the shotgun, while she tugged trying to retain control of it, but it didn’t matter. This was life and death, and I was not going to die out in Bumfuck to be buried by an outhouse. I was going to use the chance to survive.
And do it better.
Taking my hands around the gun, I held on to it, and tightened my grip so as to trap her hands on the shotgun, and keep them from moving as well.
In one fell swoop, I pivoted forward, causing the tip of the shotgun to smack her in the face. The still hot muzzle scorched her cheek.
She screamed, and she relinquished the gun into my possession.
With the shotgun in my control, I stared down the barrel.
“I think it’s time for us to make that call now, Ms. Melancon.”
“What are you going to do, kill me with an empty gun? Nate will be here soon, and he’ll take care of you, and we’ll just say you trespassed, giving us the right to shoot you dead.”
She might have been right, but I also knew how to use the butt of a gun. Striking her with it, I then ripped away some of my petticoat to tie up her hands and feet. If Nate was to arrive soon, I wouldn’t have a lot of time to deal with him.
Unable to tear even a thread, I simply rolled her into the grave she’d dug.
Picking up my skirts, I dashed around the house, running back towards the direction of my car.
Rounding the corner, I ran right into Nate. His shotgun strapped across his shoulder, and Ms. Melancon’s gun pointed downward. Before the original discharge, the shotgun would have possibly had two in the chamber, I knew. With Kristy dead, and the discharge in the backyard, that meant the gun was truly empty, and there I stood facing a man who wouldn’t have any qualms about killing me.
Dropping the firearm, I reached into my pocket, gripping my Kobatan to my side.
“Ms. Jones? What are you doing here?”
My eyes darted around. I could see my car still parked in the drive, only a few feet away. “Oh, thank God you’re here! I came to speak with Kristy, but your wife tried to kill me instead. Please call the cops,” I plead, falling onto him, as if I were truly afraid. My voice filled with an actor’s tears. The shotgun would no longer be an issue as I rested my head on his chest.
“My wife you say? What have you done to her?”
“She’s alive, just in the back. And to be honest, there are several layers of crazy going around here that I don’t wish to uncover. Please, do you have your cell phone with you? Just let me alone.”
“I can’t do that.” I watched him try to step back to take aim.
I couldn’t let him do that.
Imagining him like the cinder block upon which I often practiced, I struck him. Like a fragile egg, I didn’t know how he’d cracked. With speed I didn’t know I had, I struck out with my Kubotan, aiming at all of the pressure points that Ken had insisted I know. In less than five seconds, I delivered my strikes to the side of the body, neck, below the ear.
He screamed, and for good measure, with one hand on each side of his head, I yanked it forward, head-butting him twice. In the fury of hands and feet, I kicked out, allowing my trained kicks to make contact, my elbows and forearms to batter and my anger to act as gasoline to the raging fire within. In my fury, I wouldn't stop, couldn't stop. Even when he stopped moving, I continued. I wasn't going to be anyone's victim.
When he finally lay motionless there, I removed his cell phone from his pocket and picked up his gun, cocking it.
Punching in 911, I notified them of my location and the circumstances. Come what may, I’d done my duty and all the hours I’d stuck into it had not only saved my life, but potentially also the young man serving time.
24
Hearing the approaching sirens, and seeing the tires kicking up dirt, it dawned on me that I wasn’t law enforcement. I didn’t have the right to brandish a gun on someone, and the police were more likely to think that I was an intruder or perpetrator than something else. I couldn’t be seen as the threat.
I quickly placed the shotgun on the hood of my car, and headed toward the trunk with my hands up, in surrender.
“You can’t wait for anyone, huh Emili?” Eddie called out stepping out of his unmarked car.
I’d never been so happy to see him, especially after what could have gone worse than wrong.
“I think I learned my lesson today, though,” I muttered.
“We’ll see,” he said as two patrol cars swooped in and the officers proceeded to arrest Mr. and Mrs. Melancon.
“Is this your blood or someone else?” He said wiping my face.
“It’s Kristy Melancon’s. They killed her and I literally stumbled over the body. I don’t know how long she’d been dead but from what Mrs. Melancon said, she was getting ready to bury the evidence by the time I arrived.”
“You know, Harry isn’t going to be happy about your involvement in this either.” He pulled me into his embrace, and I welcomed it. Maybe this was the wakeup call we needed. Not everything should be taken for granted.
“I’ll cross that bridge when it comes,” I said, “but I gave my all for this client, for this cause, and with this evidence, the Commonwealth will have to dismiss the charges.”
Epilogue
At the front of the courtroom, at the defense table, Harry called me forward. The deputy, in his brown and gold uniform, stood not too far away, within earshot, I thought, able to hear anything said, even if the conversation was supposedly confidential.
"Emili," Harry said, ushering me forward. "Tommy wanted to tell you something.”
I stared at the young kid who reminded me of a sister I couldn’t save. But maybe, just maybe my intervention was able to save him from a lifetime of hur
t, and brutality.
“Ms. Jones, thank you.” His doe-like eyes glistened.
I wouldn’t tell him of the details of what his family had done to frame him, the extent of their deception, nor the end result of the house of death. It was only because he was his grandfather’s son that he’d lived, while his parents and half-siblings had perished. Some women would go through any limits to keep their spouse, even offering their biological daughter up for their husband’s depravity, turning a blind eye to the sexual abuse, and only seeing the signs when the abuse had turned into a weird adoration in which the wife was no longer needed.
I nodded my head, and smiled holding my tongue, and watched Tommy walk out of the courtroom with his father, the only father he knew. I’d done my job, and although it had nicked me, maybe would give me nightmares over the next couple of months, it would also give me the skill set I needed to make the best out of the career I’d chosen.
“Are you ready for your next case, Mr. Carroll?” the judge asked.
I knew Harry would still have a couple of words to say to me, sooner or later, but so far he’d remained quiet on the matter. Today, the galley was filled with those waiting to hear another case, and I was waiting for a chance to be of help.
Yeah, when I started to consider the facts, I was not just an assistant to an attorney. To some, I might even wield superpowers – strength and conviction to go searching for the truth.
I nodded my head, took my seat and flipped my legal pad to a new blank page. With a new client’s name scrawled on top, it was now time to start digging.
About the Author
USA Today bestselling author TINA GLASNECK is a former criminal paralegal by profession and theologian by training. Her work with Law Enforcement and the Criminal Justice System has afforded her opportunities to research the criminal mind, as well as acquire behind the scene experience and know-how.
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