Sins For Truths (The Case Files of Logan St. Martin Book 2)

by S. L. Hebert

  After waiting a few more minutes, I decided it was time to head back to my room before someone busted me for being outside the door. If a stranger would have passed by during the night, I’m sure their first thought would had been that I was locked out of the room or we were fighting. Either way, it’s not a good look, and not one I’m used to walking around wearing.

  Which is why now I find myself under a cold shower this morning, trying to fully awaken myself. It’s a failing attempt, I’m sure, hoping to look rested for the day. The last thing I want is for Logan to know I spent the night sleeping by her door in case she needed me, like some pansy. She already says I’m too clingy, but I don’t know how to shut my feelings off like she does. I haven’t had years of practice like her.

  Shaking off my thoughts, I step out of the shower, only to remember I don’t have a clean pair of clothes.

  “Shit.”

  This leaves me to decide if I should knock on the door of the room with Logan or head downstairs and have breakfast with Abigaila. Pausing for a moment, I choose the safer route and pick breakfast with my birth mother. It’s our last day here in Franklin, and this will give me a chance to talk with her alone before we head out later.

  Once I have my clothes back on, I look in the mirror. I notice my five o’clock shadow is just about ready to be shaved, but it’ll have to wait till another day. Then it dawns on me that I don’t even have a toothbrush.

  “Fuck. I really wasn’t thinking straight last night. I should have gone back to the room and quickly grabbed a few personal things, along with a change of clothes.”

  Oh well, I guess for the time being I’ll have to use natural accessories, and by this, I mean faucet water and my finger covered in a wash cloth. This isn’t the first time I’ve had to rough it in my life, and I’m sure it won’t be the last.

  It doesn’t take me long before I’m heading out the door to go find Abigaila. She’s usually wandering around in the back of the bed and breakfast, either in her office or the kitchen. I’d taken notice a while back that she started to make sure she was accessible every morning in an area where I could find her.

  To no surprise, I find her coming out of the kitchen. Instantly, she sees me coming and stops. The smile on her face almost looks forced, causing me to ask, “Is everything okay this morning?”

  “Yes, dear. My mind was on work issues. It’s nothing for you to worry about.”

  “Good, because if there is something I can help you with, all you have to do is ask. I hope you know this?”

  After taking a brief pause, she says, “Like I said, nothing for you to worry about, but thanks for asking. Would you like to grab your usual breakfast and coffee? We can go out on the back patio and enjoy the beautiful weather.”

  “That sounds great. I’ll meet you back there in a minute.”

  With a nod of her head, she turns and starts to walk away, leaving me to head into the kitchen to place my order with the cook. He’s a nice fella who’s become accustomed to seeing me prance around in his kitchen, as if my mother owns the place. I think he likes her as a little more than a boss. He seems to be fond of her; I can tell by the way he tries to wait on her hand and foot. I think he feels if he makes me feel comfortable, then it will make my mother happy. Either way doesn’t matter to me; there are worse things in life I can think of than a man trying to please a lady. And I like knowing someone is possibly giving her attention; I know she must have been lonely all these years.

  It doesn’t take long before I’m heading out the back door with a bowl of hot grits, covered with two eggs over medium, and sausage. I walk carefully, making sure not to end up spilling my coffee in the process.

  I quit having the waitress bring me my food a while back in the mornings. I figured if they were nice enough to fix me my food when I asked, the least I could do was not make them wait on me.

  As I approach my mother, she’s lost in thought, looking out over the lawn toward the big oak trees. Hearing the door close behind me causes her to turn my way. Instantly, she shakes her head as she almost starts laughing.

  “You know, dear, you didn’t have to carry that out. The wait staff here are paid well to cater to our guests.”

  “I know. I’ve been here long enough now that I don’t really feel like a guest anymore. Besides, I don’t mind.”

  “I’m glad to hear that. I hope it means you’ll come back to visit me. You’re welcome to drop in anytime.”

  After taking a seat, I reply, “I plan on it.”

  “Michael, may I ask you something?”

  “Sure.”

  “Why are you wearing the same clothes I saw you in last night?”

  “It’s a long story. In short, Logan and I needed some space.”

  With a worrisome look, she says, “I won’t pry, but if you’d like to talk about it, I’m a great listener and won’t judge.”

  “It’s fine. We’ll sort through it once we’re back home and get this case wrapped up.”

  “Suit yourself. I’ll only say, you need to try to be as gentle and understanding with her as you can. She’s wounded, Michael, and speaking from experience, some things take a long time to get over or adjust to. Learning to go on living after you’ve been through something traumatic is almost an impossible task, and I have a feeling Logan has had a lot of horrific things in her life to live through. In time, I have no doubt she’ll let you in, but you must be patient and allow her to come to you.”

  “I understand, and again, I’m so sorry my father tortured you the way he did. No human being should ever go through what you went through.”

  “It’s water under the bridge, Michael. I’m just glad I have finally gotten the chance to get to know you and see how you’ve grown into a fine young man. Any mother would be proud to have a son like you.”

  “Abigaila, I don’t mind if you want to call me your son. It’s no longer a hidden secret, and in a way I’m proud, too.”

  “Of what, Michael?”

  With the realization that she doesn’t know how I feel about her hitting me like a ton of bricks, I take a deep breath and try to choose my words wisely as I begin to tell her how I feel.

  “Well, in the beginning when we started staying here, everything was a little overwhelming, to say the least. I’ve learned so much about where I come from and how I’ve ended up at this point in my life.”

  Taking a pause, I make sure to look her straight in the eyes in the hopes she knows what I’m about to say is sincere.

  “You must know I’ve grown very fond of you. I’ll admit, it’s taken me a little while to get to this point. I had to sort through everything and come to terms with what was. I even look forward to our conversations every morning. I’ve learned so much about you and your family in Italy. I want you to know I’m not ashamed of being your son. It’s the opposite; I’m humbled and proud, to the point where I’d like to ask you if it’s okay that I call you mom or mother? I know I have a wonderful woman I call ‘Mother’ already, and I’ll continue to do so. She and my adopted father have given me a great life. It’s just that I feel I have enough room in my heart to have two mothers, and I know I can love you both equally.”

  Now watching as the tears are silently streaming down her face, it takes a few moments for her to reply. I knew this conversation was going to be hard for the both of us, but it needs to be had for me to leave here today with a sound peace of mind.

  As she steadies her voice, she finally answers, “Michael, I’m so overwhelmed with joy. I wasn’t sure if you’d ever want to outright call me ‘Mom’. It’s truly more than I could have ever asked for. I will admit, there were even times when I felt I wasn’t worthy of such a title. Somehow, my prayers have finally been answered. I never thought I’d live to see this day, son.”

  The sound of her calling me ‘son’ in a tone of endearment was my undoing, as a single tear manages to slip slowly down my face.

  “Sitting here and now, I promise you, Mother, you’ll never have to live wit
hout me in your life. Even when I leave today, I need you to know that if you ever need anything, all you have to do is call, and I’ll come back. You aren’t alone in this world anymore, and I’m sorry you had to live all these years feeling like you were. I’ve grown to love you more than I ever thought possible, and nothing will take my love away from you again.”

  “I love you, too, son, and know that you always have a home, if needed, here with me. It’s not our past that defines us, but what we do with our future. I know you’ll close the case dealing with your brother and get justice for everyone involved.”

  “You must promise me you’ll stay vigilant and safe. I couldn’t bear if something were to happen to you. If that happened, I don’t think I could find the will to go on. You’ve always been my one reason for continuing to go on in this life.”

  “I promise but know if something were to ever happen to me, I would want you to continue to live and try to find happiness. Understand?”

  “Yes, son. Let’s hope it never comes to that.”

  Finally feeling relieved, and having the weight lifted off my shoulders, I lean back in my chair and find myself gazing out at the big oak trees, feeling a sudden sense of peace.

  Logan

  Looking around with a feeling of accomplishment, I decide it’s time for a good cup of coffee. I’ve managed to get all my bags packed and ready to go since I was woken up at six in the morning from a dream I still can’t remember.

  I’ve checked my phone many times, and still no word from Grasso. I know he’s up by now, probably out on the patio having breakfast with Abigaila. My guess is he’s having the goodbye talk with her. I know he said he needed to do that before we leave here later today.

  Come to think of it, I’m glad not to be a part of it, mainly because I’m not in any mood to try and be sentimental about anything this morning. I’ve made the decision to become emotionally detached, and I have every intention on staying this way.

  Grabbing my coffee, I head out to my chair on the balcony that overlooks the front lawn, purposely taking in all the beauty of this quaint little oasis. With the ever-changing fast-paced modern world, they’ve managed to keep all the traditional southern charms here at the plantation. It’s refreshing, to say the least.

  My train of thought is broken with the sudden ringing of my cell phone. Looking at the Caller I.D., I notice it’s an unnamed number with the Franklin area code.

  “Hello?”

  “Good morning, Detective St. Martin. This is Detective Tyler. How are you this morning?”

  “Det. Tyler, I’m doing well. How are things going on your end? I’m sure you must have had a long night.”

  “Indeed, I did, which is why I’m calling. I have some news for you and your partner.”

  “I figured as much. What were you able to find out?”

  “I was able to unearth three of our men from old missing persons reports. They were filed far apart, and by this, I mean years.”

  “Okay, hold on a second while I get a pen and paper.”

  In a happy-go-lucky voice, he replies, “Sure, I’ll hold on as long as you need me to.”

  Unable to help myself, I silently roll my eyes as I enter the room to grab something to write with. Unable to find a piece of paper, I quickly go to the nightstand by the table and open the drawer, only to find a Bible. Hesitating for a second, I decide what the hell and grab it to write on, telling myself people write on them all the time in church during Bible study while taking notes.

  “Okay, I’m ready. You can continue.”

  “Like I was saying, the missing persons reports are a couple of years apart. The earliest was for the youngest of the eight. His name was Joshua Miller, according to his mother, who has since moved out of the state and is living in a retirement home in Florida. He was a troubled teenager, never really fitting in with the other kids at school. She claims at one point he started staying out late and dabbling in drugs.

  “She stated on the phone that for the longest time she blamed herself for her son acting out and thought she should have tried harder to find out what made him more different than the other kids around his age. Naively, she figured he would find his own path and everything would work itself out, stating it wasn’t until years later she realized why he was possibly different than the others.”

  “I’m not understanding, Tyler. How is it she found out later?”

  “It just so happens, one of her friends told her later about a rumor the kids talked about at school. It appears her son may have been gay and was in the closet. You know back then, no one ever wanted to talk about it, even though it was right in front of them, staring them in the face.”

  “So, one of her so-called friends tells her this, and then what?”

  “From what I’m gathering, Logan, she eventually years later moved out of state when she lost all hope that he was ever coming home. Supposedly, she and his father ended up getting a divorce, leaving her no other reason to stay in a place that persistently kept reminding her of the son she knows deep in her gut will never come home again.”

  “Tyler, did the mother sound emotional when you spoke to her on the phone?”

  “Sort of. I hung up with the impression that she was expecting the call one day; you know, the call to tell a family their loved one is never coming home again. And of course, I didn’t tell her that. I simply informed her we’re reopening the missing persons case on her son, in hopes of possibly finding out what happened to him.”

  “Well done. There’s no need to put the poor woman through hell until we find his body.”

  “I may be from a small-town Logan, but I’m no fool. I know how to do my job, and do it well, I’ll have you know.”

  Reining in my agitation, I ignore his last comment, quickly saying, “Okay, tell me about the second one.”

  “He went missing about two years later. His name is Andrew Townsend. He was in his mid-twenties, and his wife reported him missing, but get this: she didn’t report him missing for the first two months.”

  “Why?”

  “It appears she first believed he’d run off with another woman, but when he didn’t return, and she couldn’t find him, she filed the report.”

  “Where is she now?”

  “She claims to be living up in North Louisiana, but I ran a NCIC check and she’s had multiple drug arrests that date way back. The impression I got from our phone call is that her brain may be a little fried, and I’m not sure how much of her story you can believe. I intend on trying to locate his relatives to see if I can get a better grip on what happened and what type of person he really was. Hell, I’m surprised I was finally able to contact her. Good thing for her parole officer.”

  “I see. Well, from the sounds of it, I’m sure there’s more to the story.”

  “I agree, and I intend to get to the bottom of it.”

  “Well, what about number three?”

  “Number three is Mr. Brandon Martin. He was reported missing only six months after Mr. Andrew Townsend. My guess is, it wasn’t tied together with the second missing persons case because of the age difference. Also, he wasn’t married. According to some of the police reports I’ve read, he was considered a drifter among our small town. His arrest record includes drugs, public intoxication, and prostitution.”

  “Wait, he was a prostitute?”

  “According to one long-form report I managed to find on his arrest. Why?”

  “Our first victim was believed to possibly be gay, and our third was a prostitute. I’m pretty sure this is no coincidence.”

  “Yeah, Logan, but our second victim wasn’t either.”

  “No, but he was believed to be cheating on his wife, and these things are considered sins. The person we’re dealing with is very religious, and the things you’re telling me are enough to set him off.”

  “I get what you’re saying, Logan, but don’t go jumping to conclusions too soon. Let me continue to build my case and see where this leads me. I promise to keep you
in the loop. If it turns out there’s a connection and I can tie all this to Mr. John Broussard, you’ll be the first to know, understood?”

  Reluctantly, like an obedient child, I reply, “Understood.”

  “Good.”

  After a second, he continues. “Oh, by the way, where’s your partner?”

  Dreading having to answer, I simply reply, “He’s out.”

  “Trouble in paradise?”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “Come on, Logan. Anyone with half an eye can see you two are together, unless I’m wrong. In which case, I’d like to offer to take you to dinner if I’m ever in your neck of the woods.”

  “Not that it’s any of your business, but we’re just partners, nothing more. Now, if that’s all, I need to get ready to leave.”

  “Glad to hear it, and my offer still stands for dinner the next time our paths cross. You have a good day, St. Martin.”

  “You as well.” And on that note, I hurriedly hang up the phone.

  I’ve been sitting on the balcony for close to an hour, going over my notes from Detective Tyler. Deep in my gut, I know the missing men are tied to John; now I just need to prove it. The more bodies we can connect him to, the better.

  As I’m finishing up my now cold coffee, I hear a knock on the door. The pit of my stomach suddenly feels like it’s in knots. I sluggishly get up and head to the door, knowing it’s Grasso on the other side.

  Once I fully open the door, I realize he looks like shit. He has bags under his eyes, and it almost looks as if he was crying. Swiftly reminding myself I don’t want to be suckered in emotionally any more than I already am, I simply say, “Come in.”

  “Good morning, Logan. I see you’ve packed up your bags?”

  “Yes. I was killing time and giving you some alone time with your mother. I’m sure it was emotional for the both of you.”

  “It was, more than I thought it would be. So, besides packing, what have you been doing?”

  “I spoke with Detective Tyler. He could only find three missing persons reports out of the eight assumed victims. He claims they were unable to connect the dots due to the duration of the time span and age differences.”