“Her heart is strong,” he said as he released Marlena’s hand. “If she wants to come out of this, she will. There’s some disagreement with Dr. McMillan, but I believe the coma is self-induced, an escape.”
“Her brain …” Jade didn’t finish the sentence. Marlena had been struck ruthlessly in the face so many times that there had been fear of her brain swelling, of blood clots, of damage to the frontal lobes or percussive bruising of the brain stem. Her swollen face had begun to go down, but there was no telling how the beating had affected her brain.
“When she regained consciousness, she was coherent. That indicates there’s no brain damage,” the doctor said. “Had she never awakened, I would’ve been concerned.” He started to leave.
“You believe she can wake up when she wants to?” Jade asked.
The doctor’s gaze shifted to Marlena’s still form in the bed. “Yes,” he said at last. “I believe that she can live, if she chooses to do so. Or she can die, if that’s her choice. The wounds inflicted on Mrs. Bramlett’s body are severe, but not fatal.”
Jade released Marlena’s hand and slowly stood up. “What can I do?” she asked.
“Help her remember the reasons to live. Talk to her,” he said. He started out the door and then turned back. “Where is her husband?”
“Waiting for a ransom call on his daughter.” Jade didn’t believe that, but it was the easiest explanation for Lucas’s continued absence.
“He should be here with his wife. She needs him.”
Jade nodded, even though she disagreed. Lucas could not help Marlena now. She was beyond his grasp.
“I’ll have one of the orderlies bring a cot in here for you,” the doctor said.
Jade started to protest, but he was gone, his dark suit disappearing down the dim hallway. She would not be in the room when the cot arrived, thereby avoiding a confrontation she had no desire to win.
Marlena sighed, and Jade picked up her hand again. “You have to come back,” Jade said. She tried to recall a happy memory, something that would tempt Marlena to choose life. “Remember the swing that Jonah built for you in the magnolia tree?” Jade closed her eyes and visualized the stout wooden plank that Jonah had drilled four holes in. He’d attached chains with bolts and then climbed the huge tree in the Longier backyard. “Remember how Daddy scooted out on the limb and attached the chains?”
Lost in her memory, Jade smiled. “Once the swing was hung, he let you go first. He pushed you so high. You were screaming. Your hair flew out behind you, and then tangled like a golden web all in your face when you went backward. You were going to brush it out of your face, but Daddy told you not to let go of the chains. Remember?”
It was a moment of perfect memory in Jade’s mind. After Marlena had finished her turn, Jonah had swung Jade. She’d felt like she was flying through the treetops, but safe, because her daddy was there. After that, Lucille had come out of the house and made them stop swinging. She’d taken Marlena inside, her hand pinching the little girl’s shoulder as they’d walked away.
“It was May, and we could smell the magnolias,” Jade continued, focusing on the good, seeing it so clearly in her mind that she could remember the light on the glossy magnolia leaves, the deeper green of the cast-iron plant around the base of the tree. Jade grasped her sister’s hand more firmly. “There’s nothing in the world as sweet as sun-warmed magnolia. Smell it, Marlena. You wanted a flower for your mother, and Jonah got one. He told you not to touch the petals or they’d turn brown. You were so careful. You wanted the flower to be flawless for your mother. You said she smelled like magnolias, and she did. I remember that, she did.”
“I remember.”
Jade opened her eyes to find Marlena staring at her. Her blue eyes were clear and lucid.
“Don’t tell anyone I’m awake,” Marlena said. Her words were forced through her wired jaw.
“My God, Marlena!” Jade felt light-headed. She started to turn away, but Marlena held her hand. Jade gently touched her face, the skin a mass of purple, green, and yellow. The left side of her face had a sunk-in look. The doctor had said it would require plastic surgery to repair. “We haven’t found a trace of Suzanna. Do you remember anything?”
Marlena looked at something beyond Jade. “She’s dead.” The clenched-jaw delivery of the words made them even more horrific.
Jade glanced out the window. The sun was falling down the western sky, but it was only midafternoon. Frank had gone to Hattiesburg; he wouldn’t be back until dark. “I should call your mother.” She turned, prepared to go to the desk and make the call.
“No!” Marlena’s protest was so strong Jade stopped moving. “Don’t call Mother.”
The thought that Marlena was not right, mentally, crossed Jade’s mind. “I have to tell someone. Folks are looking for Suzanna. There’s been no ransom, nothing. Do you have any idea who did this?”
“They had flour sacks with eye holes cut out, and mouths.” She dry swallowed. “They grunted. They called me names. They said they were going to hurt me and make me pay for being a whore of Babylon.”
Jade hesitated. “Was there someone else with you?”
Marlena’s gaze was unfocused. “What difference does it make?”
“It could make a difference for Suzanna. Could he have taken her?”
She shook her head. “No.”
“Are you certain? If there’s any chance—”
“He didn’t take her. I wish to God he did, but he didn’t.” She turned her head to focus on Jade. “Those men took her.” Marlena’s gaze brushed hot along Jade’s skin.
“Marlena, you have to talk to Frank Kimble. You have to tell him everything you can remember. There’s been no sign of Suzanna. They took bloodhounds into the woods but didn’t find anything. They’re not sure where to hunt now.”
“Johnny didn’t take Suzanna. When the men came out of the bushes, he didn’t do anything. One man threw Suzanna on the ground. She didn’t make a sound, and she didn’t move.” She fought for control. “The other man, the skinny one, held me. He said I was a filthy slut and the big one kicked me. Johnny just stood there. I called out to him, and he looked at me like he wanted to cry, and then he turned and ran. He didn’t try to help me. He ran away and left me with those men beating me.”
Marlena’s lip began to tremble, but her eyes remained dry. Jade wanted to give comfort, but she didn’t know how. “What can I do?” she asked.
“Kill me,” Marlena said. “I put my daughter’s life in danger to meet a man who wouldn’t even try to help me. I don’t deserve to live.”
The front door of John Hubbard’s house had three small graduated windows, reminding Frank of steps. He was struck by the idea that if he looked through each one, he’d see a different room. When he did look inside, he saw bare wood floors and no foyer furniture. Officer Lloyd Hafner had gone around to the back where he could force the door with less chance of observation. They had a warrant, but Frank had asked for as much discretion as possible. If the neighbors became unduly suspicious, they might warn John of the law’s visit.
“It’s open,” Hafner called, and Frank walked around the house, noting the neatly trimmed shrubs, the recently mowed Centipede grass edged around the empty cement drive. John Hubbard was a neat man. How had he gotten involved in something as messy as a married woman?
Hafner stood in the back door, his expression pained. “Something’s ripe in here,” he said.
Frank followed him, their boots scuffling over the gray painted boards, through the small laundry room that led into the kitchen. The odor of sweet rot grew stronger, and there was the sound of flies buzzing, an ominous noise that awoke memories of carnage and battlefield abattoirs. For a split second the past swallowed Frank and the smell of blood clotted in his sinuses, creating a metallic taste on the back of his tongue. He put his hand on the gun at his waist as they carefully made their way into the kitchen.
A small square table with white chairs centered the room. Ca
binets, painted white, were wiped down and neat. Frank spotted the source of the odor. Bananas, blackened with rot, were molding on the kitchen cabinet. He relaxed.
“Looks like ole Johnny boy hasn’t been home for a few days,” Hafner said. He waved his hand over the bananas, sending the flies into an angry frenzy.
Next to the refrigerator the garbage can was a source of attraction for another buzzing horde of green bottleflies. As they swarmed up into the afternoon sunlight slanting through the kitchen window, he saw their brilliant color. In the battlefield, they’d been called the death fly. The truth was, the flies didn’t always wait until death came. He’d seen soldiers, alive and writhing in awareness of the fly spawn growing in their wounds. More than once he’d considered shooting the wounded men. Twice he had.
“I’ll take the front room, see if we can find any evidence of where Johnny boy might have gone,” Hafner said. His heavy shoes echoed on the wooden floors as he left the kitchen.
Frank would have preferred to go through the house by himself, but he accepted that he was lucky the Hattiesburg policeman was interested enough to get a warrant and come along.
“I’ll check the bedroom,” Frank said, walking down the narrow hallway toward the back of the house. He opened one door on an empty room and kept going until he found the bedroom. He stopped in the doorway. The bed was neatly made with a blue chenille spread, the pillows perfectly aligned beneath the bedspread. The nightstand beside the bed held an alarm clock and a magazine with a mostly naked woman in a sexy pose on the cover, a recent issue. Frank noted the date but didn’t touch it.
The room was dim. He walked to a window and raised the shade, allowing the midafternoon light to fill the room. He caught a glimpse of two children in the backyard of the house next door. A boy and a girl. The boy rode a tricycle around in circles while the girl sat in a swing. They seemed oblivious to the heat, and Frank watched them for a moment before he returned to his work.
There was no art or other decorative touch in the room. The walls were painted a pale blue, a restful shade that spoke of careful selection. Frank walked around the room and stopped at a highboy dresser, his gaze lighting on the picture of Marlena. She wore a red dress, the flared skirt swirling around her beautiful legs. She was laughing, holding down the skirt, happier than Frank had ever seen her. In the background was the two-tone Chevy.
Frank opened the back of the frame and removed the picture, slipping it into his pocket. He wasn’t certain why he was protecting Marlena, but he was. Not from the law, but from Lucas and the censorship of Drexel. The top drawer held socks and underwear and nothing more. He put the empty picture frame there before he closed the drawer and opened the next one. Handkerchiefs, belts, fingernail scissors, needles and thread, all neatly placed and arranged. John Hubbard was a detail man.
Frank heard Hafner’s footsteps approaching. He closed the drawer and waited.
“Looks like a bachelor’s house to me,” Hafner said. “But neat. Hubbard must be a stickler for everything in its place. My apartment is a wreck.”
“Yes,” Frank said. “There’s no clue as to where he might have gone.” He went to the closet and searched through the pockets of three pants and two jackets hanging there. A pile of dirty laundry had been kicked into the corner of the closet. Frank sifted through those. “Nothing,” he said.
“Hubbard is a reliable employee of Big Sun. Hadn’t missed a day in four years. They haven’t heard from him since Wednesday, and his boss feels that he’s met with foul play.” Hafner glanced around the room. “Could be that someone came here and cleaned it all up.”
Frank didn’t believe that, but he had no desire to redirect the officer’s thinking. “Could be,” he said. “Did you check the bathroom?”
“Not yet.”
“I’ll take a look.”
“I’ll check out the spare bedroom,” Hafner said.
Frank let Hafner brush past him before he walked down the narrow hallway to the powder blue bathroom. There were traces of dark hair stuck to the sink where someone, presumably Hubbard, had been shaving. Two towels were on the floor. The bathtub faucet leaked one drop at a time. Frank opened the medicine cabinet. Two prescription bottles were on one shelf along with a bottle of aspirin.
“Nothing back here,” Hafner said. “You got anything?”
Frank picked up a half-full prescription bottle for phenobarbitone. The label showed it was ordered by Dr. Willard Herron and filled at Hardy Street Pharmacy only a month ago. He slipped it into his pocket with the picture of Marlena. He closed the mirrored door of the medicine cabinet. “Nothing. I think we’re done here,” he said to Hafner.
19
Jade sat at her kitchen table, a glass of water in front of her, untouched. She stared at the water, forcing her gaze away from the clock, which showed seven-thirty-four. Night had settled over the woods and the cicadas were singing. She’d called Frank’s house six times and hadn’t gotten an answer. She was desperate to talk to him, to tell him that Marlena was awake. In keeping with Marlena’s wishes, she hadn’t told anyone else, not even her father. She’d given Marlena her word.
She sipped the water and put the glass back. Scraping the chair across the linoleum, she got up and paced the room. The dress she’d chosen to wear was the exact color of her eyes, and a rich brocade. The low-cut V neckline swooped up to off-the-shoulder cap sleeves. It was a flattering design for her full breasts and creamy skin. Jade had bought the dress in New Orleans, and she’d never had occasion to wear it in Drexel. The full petticoat, stiffened with Niagra starch, crinkled whenever she moved. The sound annoyed her as she sat back down in the chair. When she finally heard a car coming up to the house, she thought anticipation was going to disable her. She stood up and gained control of her limbs as she went to the door and waited for Frank’s knock.
The sight of him made her breathless. They stood, gazing at each other, until he cleared his throat and apologized for being late. He was tense and exhausted. She saw so much in the lines of his face.
“Marlena is awake,” she said. “She doesn’t want anyone else to know, but I told her I had to tell you.”
The news stunned him. She saw it in his eyes. “She’s going to be okay?” he asked.
Jade hesitated. Marlena would never be okay again. She would live, and she would cling to some type of life, but that was far from okay. “There’s no brain damage. The physical wounds should heal.”
Frank grabbed her hands. “That’s good news. Did she say anything about Suzanna?”
“She doesn’t remember much.” Jade felt the burden of her half-sister’s secrets. “She was with a man. His first name is Johnny, but she didn’t say more. She doesn’t believe he had anything to do with Suzanna’s abduction.” Jade dropped her gaze. “He didn’t try to help her when the men attacked. She said he ran away.” She lifted her gaze. Instead of the pity she expected to see, she found anger in Frank’s eyes.
“The bastard left her there to be beaten and raped?” “Yes.” Jade put her hand on his arm, a gentling gesture. Frank paced down the length of the porch and came back to her. “I need to talk to Marlena. Tonight.” “I tried to call you and tell you.”
“I just got back from Hattiesburg.” He put his hands on her shoulders, and she felt his strength. “I came here first. I wanted to see you.”
“We can have dinner another night,” she said.
His hands tightened. “No,” he said. “I can’t tell you the last time I wanted something as much as I want to have dinner with you.” His left hand moved from her shoulder to her neck. His finger traced a line along her jaw. “When I was in that German prison, I made myself a promise that I’d never deny myself anything I really wanted. We’ll have dinner tonight.”
“How about if I drive myself,” Jade said. “I can finish getting ready, and you can go by the hospital and see Marlena. If she remembers something, though—”
“I’ll call you.” He glanced at his watch. “Half an hour, then?�
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She nodded. “I’ll be there.”
He started off the porch and stopped on the second step. “You could come with me,” he said.
He was telling her that he wasn’t going to hide his feelings for her. She felt a heady rush of pleasure, but shook her head. “Half an hour. At your place.”
The August night had come down soft, the sky a milky black with a million stars scattered through it. Under other circumstances, it would be a beautiful night. Dotty swatted at a mosquito that hummed in the car. The damn thing had bitten her twice already. By tomorrow she’d have big, ugly welts on her calves. If the fucking mosquito landed on her one more time, she was going to obliterate it. She felt a tickle on her ankle and swatted with a viciousness that made her yelp. The drone of the mosquito continued, mocking her and the ridiculous situation she found herself in.
She shifted in the car seat, trying to decide what to do. She was parked down an old logging trail across the road from the Bramlett house. Her plan had been to sneak through the woods and spy on Lucas, see if he had another woman there with him. If he was alone, she intended to go up to the door and knock. She had news he might be interested in hearing. Marlena’s own mother thought Marlena was screwing around on Lucas, meeting some man in the woods. That’s why Lucille had grilled her—to find out what she knew.
Dotty stretched her legs out along the seat, wondering what Lucas would make of this information. Surely he’d reward her somehow, show his gratitude because she was looking out for him. She’d put on jeans rolled up to show her pretty calves, bobby socks, saddle oxfords, and a blue-checkered shirt tied below her breasts, which exposed her excellent figure and gave her the illusion of youth. She had the curves of a real woman, and once Lucas caught sight of her, he wasn’t going to send her home. They could have the whole night together. She pressed a hand to her pubis in anticipation of what he would do to her. She needed to be conquered, dominated, made to do things that were dirty. All she had to do was walk across the road, sneak through the woods, and make sure Lucas was alone.
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