“Early.” She leaned over him, and he raised up so they could kiss. “Have a safe flight. Give her my best.”
“I will.”
She rolled him onto his back. “Can you go to the airport now? Just so I’m not worried about you here?”
“I have my gun.” When she didn’t falter, he sat up in resignation. “Okay. You go. I’ll shower and leave. I promise to text when I’m out.”
“Don’t linger. And leave your gun in your car unless you like cavity searches.”
Once on the road, Angel called Ruby to cancel the face-to-face. She had planned to get Mark into protective custody at the house, then meet Donald at another location. Now, there was just meeting Donald.
Despite the lack of sleep, Angel was wide awake for the hour-long drive on the rural route to the roadside motel. There was a smattering of cheap cars in the lot, nothing too expensive, which spoke to the economic status of its clientele.
Angel turned the engine off, returning the visor to its original position after driving nearly seventy miles east, into the rising sun. She left her sunglasses on.
She secured her satchel under her arm. There were only a few feet from her car to room 104, her final destination. She knocked in a normal manner, not needing a secret code. If the Blondeauxs had someone out this way or managed to tail her, then good for them. A meeting with her boss during an internal investigation wouldn’t be a red flag to her clan.
“Good morning, Angel,” Donald Lester said after he opened the door. “How are you?”
“Anxious.” She entered the room, putting the satchel in a chair. Her eyes adjusted to the darkness, noticing files spread out on the small desk, which contained a hotel phone and a lamp with a powerful bulb. “Thanks for meeting me without Agent Ruby. I hate keeping her out of the loop.”
“Yeah, this is rather delicate. Have a seat.” He indicated the stiff-cushioned sofa while he sat on the swivel chair. “I’ll get right to it.”
“Just tell me.”
He lifted a folder, then let it drop, pulling out a single sheet. His brow furrowed. “Robert Blondeaux is not your father.”
Angel put her head in her hands. “Positive?”
“Science doesn’t lie. Simon Hill, third baseman from the team, looks to be your biological father.” He passed her the picture, which she had seen in the scrapbook. “His parents left his room the way it was when he went missing, and we were able to extract his DNA.”
“They must have been riled up for that.”
He examined the laser copy. “I gave them the long-shot speech about a needle in a haystack. Their hopes are up, and I had to temper them.”
“No question about this?” She rubbed her eyes, taking a look at a square-jawed, handsome young man with a long mane of wavy blond hair.
“I’m sorry, Angel. I’m not going to bullshit you about the man who raised you being your real father and all that crap. This is devastating.”
She finally leaned back into the sofa, folding up the picture to take with her. “This is crazy is what it is.”
Donald eased himself from the chair to her side. “I understand you need time to let it sink in, but we need to formulate a plan.”
“A plan? We don’t say a word. We can’t let this out of this room. You don’t know these people. If the Bureau charges in, they can do all the DNA tests out the yin-yang, but the Blondeauxs will close shop so fast that nothing will ever surface again.”
He looked unsure. “But we put the screws to them now. We make this information known; there would be nowhere to hide. Families will get closure. Hell, we could find those boys’ graves.”
“Bottom line, they’ll close ranks. That is always the last option. Let me navigate this alone.” She took a large gulp of water. “Bobby and Lucy May were fathered by players, too.”
Donald looked to the files on the desk. “Yeah, I figured as much. The originals are there?” He indicated the pouch on the chair.
“That’s them.”
“So, you want to sit on this?”
“For now. If they thought I had something in that house, they would’ve burned it down by now.”
He clasped his hands in his lap. “Can you go on with this information sitting under your hat? Can you look your mother in the eyes and not bring it up?”
“I don’t know, but I have to.”
“I have to brief Agent Ruby.”
Angel closed her eyes and nodded. “I know you do. You tell her everything, so I don’t have to repeat it.”
“Listen to me… confronting your mother might be a good thing. Consider it.” He scooted close to her.
“The clan comes first.” She leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder. “All these years, I’ve had this deeply ingrained fear of hurting my family. It’s like I’ll have a panic attack if I speak against them. I’ve had this dream to be in law enforcement and take down big, bad criminals, but can’t shake this – Kryptonite. I don’t know what else to call it.”
“If you’re scared of heights, you either close your eyes and jump from the plane, or you never go up in the first place. You’re on board, and the door is open. You’ll do the right thing. I know you will.”
“Talk to my mom?”
“Yeah. If any of these Blondeauxs with pertinent information are ever going to open up, it’s going to be her.”
Chapter 61
Angel left Donald at the motel with his warm, calm assurances. However, she didn’t get far before pulling over onto the road's shoulder to throw up. Random cars whizzed by, not realizing that she was doubled over on the opposite side of her truck. The breeze cooled her baking skin.
Before getting back in the driver’s seat, she dialed her cell. Her mom answered. “Hello, dear.”
“Mom. Can I swing by?”
“You’re always welcome.” Plates clacked in the background.
“Is Dad there?”
“Mmm, no. He’s at the store. It’s just me. Is everything okay?”
“I’ll be there in a bit.”
For the rest of the journey, she sipped on water as the wind dried her sweat. Mark hadn’t texted yet about boarding for his trip to Florida. Her thoughts were overwhelming, so much so, she had to imagine the best possible outcomes. Rob would still be her Dad, no matter. Despite his suspicious nature, he had never been abusive. Rob had been a decent, yet apathetic father who ran guns and broke thumbs. Now she understood his attitude toward her - his passive-aggressive resentment.
All of her sensibilities were tangled, hating that her parents so willingly participated in the family business. People got hurt and sometimes died in their dealings. They destroyed innocent lives. The guilt of doing nothing ate at her. They were her parents, and the obligation had been smothering.
When she pulled into her mother’s driveway, the water in her stomach bubbled again. She slid from the Rock onto the cracked driveway. Her feet felt every groove and pebble of the trek to the front door. Maybe she needed more time.
“Mom?” She opened the door without knocking.
“In the kitchen, dear.”
Angel walked past her giant adolescent portrait on the wall, not seeing one iota of Rob in her face. She had missed out on a second life parallel to this one. Who she truly was, or should’ve been, was in question. Her mother slowly put away dishes in the kitchen.
“Isn’t this a surprise?” She didn’t sound cheerful. “How’s life over in the Trap?”
“Mind-numbing.” Angel sat at the small island that could squeeze six.
“You sounded stressed on the phone.”
“I found something.”
Her mother secured two clean glasses, putting them in the cabinet. “Do I need a lawyer?”
“You are a lawyer.”
“What did you find, dear?”
“Two things, actually. Do you know if Lucy May and Joe-Joe had a relationship when she was here?”
Her expression flattened. She turned away. “They were getting along. Nothing
romantic. Why?”
“Oh, nothing. My stupid train of thought.”
“Okay. And two?”
“Two… does Dad know I’m not his biological daughter?” There it was, like ripping off a bandage.
Mable froze with her hands still in the cabinet. “You found out it was a shotgun wedding? Of course, someone blabbed.”
“Does he know it was a baseball player?”
Her head dipped and she turned to face her. Angel watched her mother move to the doors under the sink. She knelt, reaching far inside to pull out a small case. She opened the black container, retrieving a wand used to detect listening devices.
“Really, Mom?”
Without a word, her mother performed a search of her person. “Good. You’re clean.” Mable put down the wand, then went to her purse. After digging through a full wallet, she took the opposite chair.
Angel put her cell on the table, proving it was off.
Her mom said, “Tell me what you know.”
Angel shook her head. “You explain it to me. That way, I’ll know how truthful you’re actually willing to be.”
“Warning me not to dig a hole.” Her mom unfolded a picture, placing it on the table. “Simon Hill.”
“That’s a good start.” Angel recognized herself in his eyes.
“Does the FBI know?” She asked, unapologetic, barely looking at the young man’s image.
“I’ll ask the questions, and you’ll answer them.”
Her mom’s eyes closed with a slight nod. “Ask away.”
“Did Paulette kill those kids?”
“I suspect so, but she never spoke of it. No one did.”
“Except Uncle Earl. To me.”
Her fingers fiddled with the mail on the table. “I guess you can say my mother gave us deniable plausibility. I’m surprised Uncle Earl spoke to you.”
“Honestly, he’s bitter. The family left him behind when cohesiveness had always been its strength. The patronne messed up.”
“I agree.”
“Were you raped?” Her voice cracked.
“Your Aunt Lorna, Izzy, and I drove to Brockton for one of the parties the players had after a game. There was drinking and some drugs, but we were responsible. We each had a player flirting with us, handing us drinks. The next thing we know, it’s morning. We were in separate bedrooms, and when we compared stories, we knew something wasn’t right.”
“And you told maw maw Paulette?”
Tears formed in her mom’s eyes. “We all got pregnant. All three of us.”
Angel stopped her. “Aunt Izzy got pregnant, too?”
“We were all on the same cycle, dear.” She nodded. “Bobby is Izzy’s son. She passed him off to Lorna to be raised with Lucy May as fraternal twins. Izzy couldn’t handle a baby. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but Izzy isn’t one to raise a child with the men-folk. With any partner, really.”
“And no one knows this? How did she hide the pregnancy?”
“Easy enough in a small town when your maw maw is the mid-wife and a doctor. Izzy said she went away for police training. Your maw maw paired me and Lorna up with Doug and Rob to explain our babies.”
“That’s why Doug was so shitty. And Dad.”
“Your Dad loves you. The way he acts… it’s just the way he is.”
“So, you tell maw maw Paulette you were raped, but you don’t know by who, so she has to punish the entire team.”
She appeared ashamed. “We didn’t want them punished. But my mom said they’d just go on date-raping other girls and something had to be done. A few weeks later, the bus goes missing.”
“Where are they buried?”
“I don’t know.”
Angel wiped her eyes with a napkin. “Why didn’t you and Dad have more children?”
Her expression remained flat. “He wanted to keep trying, but… three miscarriages. Two doctors said I couldn’t anymore. You were a miracle.”
“God had nothing to do with me.”
“You don’t have to tell your father. You are his daughter, through and through.”
Angel snatched the picture and ran her fingers over the boy’s face. “I think this is the most honest you’ve ever been with me.”
“What are you going to do?” her mom asked.
“The FBI doesn’t know yet. Family comes first, right? What else can I do, but go on like I have no idea.”
A male voice projected from the living room. “No idea about what?”
Angel turned to see her father at the entrance of the kitchen. He suddenly appeared fragile, even vulnerable. “Oh, nothing. The house. Lucy May and Izzy both think I’m giving it to them. I have no idea.”
“She should sell it to Izzy,” her mom said with a knowing glance.
“She should follow her heart,” Rob said.
Chapter 62
Mark spent his time alone in the house, slowly packing up. Torn between his mom’s non-life-threatening surgery and avenging his grandfather. He’d love to tell his mom that Earl Blondeaux had been arrested, and that her father could rest in peace. His sister’s kid picked the perfect time to get sick. He checked his cell every ten minutes for a missed call or text.
Angel wanted him to leave anyway, but she was overprotective. Either that, or he really liked the danger. Case in point, removing his stitches with a pair of scissors. He was no Rambo, but he sorta was. Could that be what drew him to her? Would he feel the same way if she was a schoolteacher?
Her big personality had grown on him, but John Belcher couldn’t know that. Sometimes, he felt like a puppet but couldn’t look up to see who had the strings.
Angel had taken the plastic baggy of pictures with her to Agent Ruby. They were in the middle of planning an intense strategy while he was on the sidelines. He sighed. It was two hours until his flight, and it was an hour's drive to the airport.
He found himself in the basement, endlessly staring at the cage, imagining himself in that horror. There was no evidence to uncover. Nothing Angel was hiding. He envied her career, still thinking he had a few years left before he aged out of applying to the Bureau.
His own theory was that the house had been bequeathed to Angel to right two wrongs in Lemon Twig. She needed to debunk Bobby’s murder confession and find the missing baseball players. Somehow, though, he felt they were related if not entwined.
His cell phone rang, but the screen indicated a restricted number. In the law profession, those numbers weren’t to be ignored. He answered. “Office of Mark Senn, Attorney at Law.”
“Mark Senn?” A healthy male southern accent.
“Speaking.”
“You want answers about your grandfather’s murder? I got them for you.” The man purposely spoke weird, as if disguising his voice.
Mark’s skin tingled. The accent seemed local. He ran to the window to peer around the yard. “Agent Blondeaux might be the one you need to speak to.”
“I can’t reveal myself to her. This is for you.”
Mark scratched at his temple. “I’m not just going to show up somewhere alone, not in this town.”
“This ain’t gonna be a phone interview. Pick a place that’s public if you’re scared.”
“Seems you’re the one that’s scared.”
“I guess I made a mistake.”
Mark stammered. “No. No. I want to do this. Show up at the Southern Grill.”
“I’ll be wearing a blue Cubs cap. And do not bring the agent.”
Chapter 63
Angel only made it four blocks away from her parent’s home before needing to pull over again. Not to be sick, however. Agent Ruby had sent her a text.
From Ruby: All your surveillance is down. Could be outage or software issue. Be careful.
Angel responded: On way.
Mark’s safety flashed before her eyes. The bear vibrated as the Rock encroached on seventy miles per hour on a road with a limit of forty-five. It was time to stop being a victim and summon the strength to see this through.
If Simon Hill were still alive, he’d be near fifty. But all she could imagine was a fresh-faced boy not even out of high school. Her father was a man much younger than she was now. What kind of relationship could she and Rob have? And would it be through prison bars?
Her hands gripped the wheel like a vise. Her last text to Mark hung up while sending, spinning endlessly. He had to be on his way to the airport. Either that or lousy service wasn’t out of the question. The Rock’s engine protested at eighty miles per hour.
She slowed a bit, fearing blowing the engine. The Rock was her happy place - her comfort zone. But this time, it wasn’t enough. Just as the bear was never enough for Bobby, could Mark possibly become her real rock? She imagined his arms wrapped around her, but it didn’t feel right.
“Sorry, Mark. It’s not you, it’s me.” She laughed and sniffled. Tears wanted to fall, but she fought them back. Did she really expect to fall in love with Mark during this operation?
The entire investigation had changed. Angel drove back to the Trap more resolute. She was either going to solve the crime and make the clan pay - or not. Success or failure; there was no in-between. Once she was done with Lemon Twig, there’d be no reason to ever return. The town was scorched earth - uninhabitable.
The truck skidded to a halt at the house. Angel saw that Mark’s vehicle was nowhere in sight. A peek in the garage revealed nothing. Just because his car was gone didn’t mean he was safe. No sign of forced entry, although it seemed every Blondeaux had a key.
With her Glock at the ready, she entered the house to find nothing out of the ordinary. No one struggled in an attempted abduction. She called out for Mark but heard silence. The first floor revealed nothing, and all the upstairs rooms were clear, also. She flipped the light on for the basement, but no light came on.
Thinking it had burned out, she turned to the microwave to see that it was off, also. The electricity was out. Could a breaker have been tripped? She used the natural light to guide her way to the cage. It was empty.
Blood Parish Page 20
