by BJ Bourg
“Watch your mouth, boy. You’d better not go around spreading any lies about me. There’re consequences for that kind of thing.”
“Oh, they’re not lies. Everyone thinks Kimberly fell, but you and I both know you pushed her.”
“I did no such thing. She slipped and fell and hit her head. I didn’t do nothing to her. You were too young to even know what was going on.”
“Yeah, that’s what you were counting on, but you’d be surprised what kids can remember.” Matthew stepped closer. “And I’m not a kid anymore.”
“So…what? Are you going to tell your mommy on me?” Foster let out a guttural laugh. “She won’t believe a damn thing you say. I’ve got total control over her and she trusts everything I tell her. I could punch her right in the face and make her apologize to my fist.”
Matthew felt his blood boiling, but he tried to remind himself to remain calm. “I want you to apologize for what you did to Sissy, and I want you to apologize for all the things you did to me. If you do that, I won’t hurt you.”
Foster laughed again. “You…hurt me? Now, that’s a good one. As I recall, you’re only good at one thing, and that’s getting your ass beat. I don’t care how long you spent in the military. The military don’t make real men—real men are born.”
“You’re right about one thing; the military didn’t make a man out of me—I was a man before I went in. Those beatings were not for naught, that’s for sure. It taught me some things about me and it taught me some things about you.”
“Oh, yeah, what’s that?”
“It taught me that you’re a coward and you prey on young children and women who are helpless and won’t fight back.” Matthew clenched his fists. “It also taught me that I can take everything you’ve got and still keep going.”
“If you think you’ve seen all I’ve got, then you’re dumber than you look. You ain’t never seen the devil come out of me, boy, but if you keep walking toward me, you will—” Foster stopped talking and, in one swift motion, swung the tree branch he’d been holding directly toward Matthew’s temple.
Matthew quickly brought his left arm up and the branch crashed harmlessly into his elbow, sending speckles of dead bark and wood raining down over him. Before Foster could rear back with his hand to strike again, Matthew kicked him in the groin. Foster dropped heavily to his knees, clutching at the front of his pants. Moving deliberately, Matthew stepped forward and grabbed a handful of Foster’s hair. Jerking his face upward, Matthew smashed his fist into Foster’s nose. The older man cried out in pain and collapsed in a heap to the ground.
“How’s that feel, you old bastard?” Matthew asked. Foster just lay there groaning. Matthew leaned over and jerked him back to his knees by the hair. “This is for Sissy…” Matthew punched him as hard as he could in the left temple, knocking him unconscious.
Matthew straightened and stared down at the man he had dreamed of killing for many years. Suddenly, Foster didn’t seem worth the effort. Matthew turned when a soft voice called his name. It was his mother.
“Is it true? About Sissy?”
Matthew nodded. The sun was just starting to rise and he could see tears streaming down her face.
“I’m so sorry I wasn’t strong enough to leave,” she said. “I’m so sorry for all you went through. The torture, the hate. It’s all my fault.”
“No, mom, it’s okay. He didn’t break me; he just showed me how strong and determined I truly am.” Matthew turned back toward Foster. “I’m going to need you to go inside now,” he told his mother. “You’re not going to want to see this.”
“Please don’t kill him…he’s not worth it.”
“I’m not going to kill him,” he promised, “but you will not want to see this.”
When his mom was gone, he unzipped his pants. “If you pee on me, I pee on you—that’s the law. It’s right there in the rule book of life, page three, section eight…”
CHAPTER 41
Mechant Loup Police Department
It was twenty after eight when Foster finished telling the story about Matthew beating him up and urinating on him. He said Matthew had barreled his way into the back yard immediately after driving up to the house and attacked him without provocation. He said the younger man hit him when he wasn’t expecting it and beat him while he was down.
“And then he pissed all over me while I was unconscious.” Foster shook his head. “That’s no way to greet someone after going years without seeing them.”
It was obvious Foster didn’t want me to know why Matthew beat him up. “Damn,” I said as convincing as I could muster, “Matthew sure sounds like a hothead.”
“He is!”
“And a bit psychotic. I mean, who goes around peeing on people?”
“That’s what I thought, but then Pearly gets all mad at me and makes me leave the house. Tells me she doesn’t want to see me again until her children leave. She didn’t even let me get cleaned up first. I had to walk into the hotel lobby smelling like piss.”
I could’ve challenged him on his earlier lie about leaving the house on his own accord, but I decided to keep pressing him about the reason for the beating.
“Well, Matthew’s obviously crazy and I’m sure it doesn’t make any sense, but why’d he want to fight with you? He must’ve said something while he was attacking you.”
Foster was quiet for a long moment. When he didn’t answer right away, I told him I could ask Pearly and the others at the house. “I’m sure someone overheard what was being said between y’all,” I said. “If you don’t remember, I can head out to the house right now and interview everyone.”
“I mean, I remember some of it,” he finally said. “You’re right, it didn’t make sense. He was babbling about Kimberly’s accident and trying to accuse me of pushing her.”
“Kimberly?”
“She’s his sister. She fell and hit her head when she was a little girl. She had severe brain damage and has been in a wheelchair ever since. Pearly had a job and couldn’t care for Kimberly like she needed to, so Kimberly was sent to live with her grandparents on her dad’s side.”
“Who’s their father?”
“Some guy named Willis Bernard. I’ve never met him.” Foster shrugged. “As far as I know, he’s never been a part of their lives. I know he’s never paid child support and he’s never visited the kids. I think that’s why Matthew turned out bad. You know what they say about boys who grow up without their dad.”
After momentarily wondering about my own biological father and whether or not he’d be willing to meet with me, I studied Foster, trying to imagine him pushing a little girl. I could actually envision him doing it. “So, if I understand you correctly, Matthew thinks you pushed his little sister and that’s why he attacked you?”
“Yeah, that’s the gist of it. Crazy, isn’t it?”
“I have to ask; did you push her?”
Foster acted offended. “I’d never intentionally hurt a little girl.”
Based on his answer, which wasn’t actually a denial, I was certain he’d pushed the little girl. “When I sit down and visit with Matthew, what’s he going to say is the reason he peed on you?”
“He’ll probably try to say I pissed on him when he was younger, but that’s a lie. I never did nothing like that to no one.”
“Would he say you abused him in any other way?”
Foster squirmed in his chair and hesitated before shaking his head. “No, he…he wouldn’t say anything more than that, and I don’t believe he’s got a reason to want me dead.”
“He attacked you and knocked you unconscious, Foster, so I’d say he’s mad about something. If it’s not about him, it must be about his sister.” I squinted. “When Matthew was beating you, did he say anything else? Anything at all?”
Foster was thoughtful. After a minute, he raised an eyebrow. “He did! He was demanding that I apologize for something.”
“For what?”
“The…the thing with Kimberly.
He said I should apologize for what I did to Kimberly and to him.”
“Did you apologize?”
Foster shook his head.
“Then you need to apologize, and it’ll all be over”—I snapped my fingers—“just like that. My guess is he really believes you hurt his sister and he’s not going to stop until you pay for your sins or you make it right by apologizing.”
“For what? I didn’t do nothing.”
“Tell me about the accident. How’d it happen?”
“It was a long time ago…”
“It might have been a long time ago, but that kind of thing is hard to forget.” I placed my forearms on the desk and leaned close. “Where did it happen?”
“At our house, back when we lived in Breechville, Kentucky.”
“Where at your house—did it happen indoors or outdoors?”
“It was outside, near my old truck. She slipped and fell on the sidewalk, hit her head on the ground.” He frowned. “It was really scary.”
“Where was Matthew when it happened?”
“He was also on the sidewalk. They had just got through playing with some paint or something. I’m actually not sure what they were doing, but she fell and hit her head. Matthew might have even pushed her, and that might be why he’s blaming me now.”
“Where were you when she fell? I mean, if you were close to Kimberly, maybe you were obscuring Matthew’s view and he didn’t actually see what happened. And if you were close to Kimberly that might explain why Matthew mistakenly thinks you pushed her. If we could somehow convince him that it was an accident, he might feel bad for trying to kill you and he might admit what he did.”
“I…I really think it’s Connie who paid somebody to kill me, so it’s probably better if you just talked to her. I don’t think Matthew knows anything.”
“Why don’t you let me worry about who knows what, okay? Now, let’s get back to Kimberly…where were you when she fell?”
“I…I was too far to push her.”
“You know, a simple fall wouldn’t produce the kind of brain injury Kimberly sustained. Kids fall all the time and they bounce right back up and keep going.” I paused to let him think about it. “She must’ve hit the ground with some degree of force—the kind of force that would come from a push.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. You need to find out who Connie paid, because he’s still out there somewhere. I mean, I don’t even know who to watch out for. It could be anybody.”
“Foster, if you pushed Kimberly, you need to tell me, and you need to apologize, so I can let Matthew know I’m taking care of things. Once he thinks justice is being served and that you’ve apologized, he might lay down his sword. It might convince him to confess to what he did.”
“You mean, if I tell you I pushed Kimberly and say I’m sorry, you think it might make Matthew admit to killing Mitch and then trying to kill me?”
“It’s worth a try. After all, he was trying to get you to do that while he was beating on you.”
Foster nodded his head slowly. “Okay, you can tell him I admitted to pushing Kimberly, but only if it’ll help clear this up.”
“It has to be believable, so you need to give me some details that’ll ring true with him.”
“Um, you can tell him that he spilled paint all over my truck and I was fussing him when Kimberly ran up to attack me.” Foster paused and swallowed. “You can tell him…you can say that I pushed Kimberly off of me without realizing it and she fell backward and hit her head.”
“Should I tell him you were angry when you pushed her?”
“If you think it’ll help.”
“Should I also tell him you apologized for peeing on him?”
Foster hesitated. “I…I guess so.”
“What should I say was the reason you peed on him? You know, to convince him you’re sincere?”
“You can just say it was because he refused to apologize for trying to escape.”
“Escape?” I echoed. “From where?”
Foster clamped his mouth shut. It appeared he knew he’d said too much.
I crossed my arms and shook my head. “It’s no wonder this kid wants you dead. It sounds like you were a real asshole.”
CHAPTER 42
It was two more hours before I wrapped up Foster’s statement. As bad as I wanted to arrest him for injuring Kimberly Bernard, the incident had occurred outside of my jurisdiction and eighteen years ago, so the best I could do was forward the information to the appropriate police department in Kentucky.
Susan and I dropped Foster off at the Corner Pub and then we followed him to the motel. Once he was safely inside, we left and were heading to speak with Matthew when Melvin called.
“Preach to me,” I said. “I need some good news.”
“The spent casings from the shooting last night matched the casings from the murder,” he said, “and Jack and Brandy’s hands came back clean—there was no gunshot residue on either of them.”
I wasn’t surprised. “We’ve got a new suspect. Where are you?”
He told me he was ten minutes from town, so I gave him Pearly Blake’s address and told him what we’d learned. “I’m going to need you out at the house in case things get ugly. I don’t think he knows we’re looking at him, so there shouldn’t be any trouble, but you never know.”
Melvin said he’d be there in a few minutes and we waited for him at the beginning of Lacy Court. When I saw his truck approaching, I turned in front of him and led the way down the street. I slowed when we arrived at Pearly’s house. There weren’t as many cars in the driveway as the first time I’d visited, and I wondered if Matthew was there.
Melvin slipped out of his truck and made his way around to the back of the two-story, barn-style home. I glanced at Susan and she eased out of the Tahoe and stood in the open doorway. She nodded toward the AR-15 that was in the back seat. “I know my mobility’s an issue, but I can cover you from here with the rifle,” she offered. “I’ll keep it low unless a threat presents itself.”
I nodded and waited until Melvin’s voice came over the radio to let me know he was in position. I then strode across the front yard and rapped on the door. Pearly answered my knock and cocked her head to the side as she stared at me through the glass of the storm door. She was wearing tights and a tank top—as though she thought she was twenty years younger—and she asked if there was something wrong.
I glanced past her and saw a wheelchair parked at the end of a long sofa. A girl was sitting in it. On the sofa next to her was the elderly man who had answered the door the last time I’d been here. His name was Desmond. When I had earlier asked Foster to name everyone in the house, he had mentioned that the man’s last name was Lemon and Foster said he was Kimberly’s grandfather.
“Can I help you?” Pearly asked when I didn’t answer her first question.
“I’d like to speak with Matthew,” I said. “Is he home?”
“I’m afraid not. He went to the store, but he should be back later. I think he might be doing some early Christmas shopping.”
I stole another glance at Kimberly and frowned. “How’s she doing?”
Pearly turned to view her daughter, and then opened the storm door to slip outside. When she spoke, her voice was low. “She’s never been the same since the incident.”
“I noticed you didn’t call it an accident.”
“That’s because it wasn’t an accident.”
“How do you know that?”
“I didn’t know until Matthew confronted Foster about it when they arrived here Friday night.” Pearly lowered her sickly eyes. “He tried telling me when he was younger, but I wouldn’t listen. I didn’t want to believe Foster was capable of hurting Kimberly.”
I detected movement behind Pearly and noticed Desmond Lemon had moved from where he was sitting and now stood just on the other side of the glass listening intently to our conversation. Pearly hadn’t seen him and I kept my eyes off of him so as not to alert
her. If the man wanted to hear what she said, who was I to deny him?
CHAPTER 43
“Didn’t Foster beat Matthew?” I asked Pearly. “Back when he was a little boy?”
“He disciplined him, but he never beat him. I mean, I wouldn’t call it a beating.”
“We’ll just agree to disagree on that point. If Foster was capable of beating Matthew, then you had to know he was capable of harming Kimberly.”
“Like I said, he only disciplined Matthew.”
“I see. Did he ever urinate on Matthew and dunk his head in a toilet?”
That got Pearly’s attention. “Where’d you hear that?”
“From Foster.”
“He admitted doing that?”
“If I heard it from him, I guess he did admit it, right?”
She sighed. “He only did it because Matthew refused to apologize. He was trying to teach Matthew a lesson.”
“Why was Matthew supposed to apologize?”
“He tried to run away from home.”
“Run away or escape?” I asked, remembering what Foster had said. “I have reason to believe Foster was keeping Matthew locked up against his will.”
“Only for his own good.”
I leaned back and studied Pearly’s face. I’d heard that love was blind, but how on earth could this woman have been so utterly and completely blind? What type of woman would take the side of her “man” over her own child?
“Where was Matthew being locked up?” I asked. “Was he locked in his room or a closet or what?”
“In the, um, he was living in the basement.”
“Was he free to come and go as he pleased?”
“He was a child—of course he couldn’t come and go as he pleased. There were rules and he had to abide by them.”
“Was the door to the basement locked?”
She hesitated. “Only after he tried to escape.”
“When was that?”
“Before the toilet incident.”
