Blood Divine

by Greg Howard

  With the phone to his ear, Randy looked down as he listened. Faint traces of Lillie Mae’s voice trickled out into the otherwise quiet room. Cooper silently mouthed each word, the message branded into his memory.

  Cooper. Listen to me carefully. Whatever you do, don’t come home. Stay away, do you hear me? Stay away from Georgetown. He’s back, and it’s not me he wants, it’s—

  The abrupt dial tone at the end of the message and the alarm lacing her voice were reason enough to defy her wishes. She’d been scared. And who the hell was this he?

  Randy handed the phone back to Cooper. “As soon as I got the call from dispatch, I checked the hospital. No luck there.”

  Cooper flinched at considering the idea of Lillie Mae in the hospital lucky.

  Randy retrieved a small spiral notepad and pencil from the inside pocket of his jacket. “When’s the last time you talked to her?”

  Cooper gripped the sofa cushion with both hands and squeezed. “A couple of weeks ago, I guess.” Or more. Too long.

  Flipping over to a blank page, Randy jotted something down on the pad. “How did she seem the last few times you talked to her?”

  “Scattered. Forgetful.”

  More scribbling in the pad.

  Cooper stared down at the well-worn Oriental rug, retreating into its hypnotizing pattern and projecting away his panicky angst so Randy wouldn’t see any trace of the scared, flimsy, little boy he once was. That wasn’t him anymore, and he’d be damned if he would let a childhood crush shake him up tonight.

  He looked up and lowered his voice a notch. “I don’t think I’m overreacting here. This isn’t like Lillie Mae. Sure she’s forgetful, but she rarely leaves this house. A trip to Winn-Dixie would be the highlight of her week.”

  “Yeah, I see her there sometimes,” Randy said, writing something else in the notebook. “Always keeps me up to date on what’s going on with you.” He looked up, the slightest trace of a smile creeping up on the right side of his mouth. “And I never said you were overreacting.”

  Cooper’s cheeks grew hot. Why couldn’t it have been anyone else on the other side of that door instead of the one person who could still reduce his insides to Silly Putty? As much as he hated to admit it, the passing of ten years had done absolutely nothing to diminish the effect Randy had on him. The embarrassment and the sting of rejection that had walloped him that night on the beach now picked at the scab around his heart with needling precision. He didn’t need this tonight, and he wouldn’t make the same mistake twice with Randy.

  Cooper sat up straight. “There’s food out on the kitchen counter and a pot of water on the stove. Looks like she was making dinner.”

  Randy stood, walked over to the swinging door, and peeked into the kitchen. “Maybe she just got confused and wandered off down the street or something. Happens more than you’d think with some of the older folks around here.”

  “I thought that too.” Scooting to the edge of the sofa, Cooper grabbed the Bible and flipped to the page with the family tree, the picture of the young girl still wedged in the fold. “Then I found this.” He turned the book around and slid it across the coffee table. Randy walked over, leaned down, and inspected the page, his brow contracting the closer he got to it.

  Cooper wondered if same childhood memories flooded into Randy’s mind. They likely remembered that day differently. Randy would remember a thrilling adventure, unexplained occurrences, and four kids getting the bejesus scared out of them. Cooper remembered a lot more.

  Randy’s face hovered just inches above the page. “Looks like blood.”

  Cooper nodded. “Do you know who owns Warfield now?”

  Randy stared at the page like he waited for a secret, invisible message to suddenly reveal itself. “That place has changed hands a few times since we were kids. I’d have to look it up.”

  “Would you? Seems like the only clue we have.”

  Randy looked up. “Sure, Red.”

  Cooper picked up the picture and held it up. “I also found this.”

  Randy moved around the coffee table, took the photo out of Cooper’s hand without asking, and nudged him in the side to scoot over. Cooper obliged and slid to the right. He fought the urge to smile. No need making something out of nothing. The ease with which they moved around each other was just that of childhood familiarity. Nothing more.

  Randy studied the sepia image. “This can’t be Lillie Mae. It’s too old.”

  Cooper shook his head. “Look at the back.”

  Their knees and shoulders touched. The casual closeness reminded Cooper of when they were kids, and their appetites for mystery and adventure were as endless as their overactive imaginations.

  Randy inspected the back of the picture, ran his thumb over the words written there, and handed it back to Cooper. “Who’s Sally? Family?”

  “Don’t know. I haven’t seen it before. Lillie Mae never really talks about her family, though. I don’t know anything about them. I found it in the Bible along with that.” Cooper pointed to the desecrated page without looking at it. He sunk back into the sofa and chewed on the tip of his index finger.

  Looking down at the marred page like it had more clues to offer, Randy patted Cooper’s knee and let his hand rest there. “Coop, I know you’re worried, but it’s going to be okay. We’ll find her.”

  Cooper’s heart responded to the physical contact with a heavy thump, which he inwardly cursed. He’d spent his life riffling through a Rolodex of men in search of just one that measured up to this man. Gorgeous, sweet, straight Randy. Trace memories of the drunken pass he’d made at Randy the night of Kevin’s funeral hung in the air between them with tacit awkwardness. Or maybe that was all just in Cooper’s head.

  Randy had reacted so kindly that night. After all, Cooper was upset and drowning his grief in a few bombers of Budweiser. After deftly redirecting Cooper’s sloppy advance with a peck on the forehead and a brotherly bear hug, Randy had never mentioned it again. Of course, Cooper never saw him again, either. Until tonight. Lesson learned on opening himself up to that kind of rejection. Never again.

  Cooper moved his knee away, letting Randy’s hand fall to the cushion. That’s when he noticed Randy’s ring finger was bare. Only an untanned circle of skin remained where a wedding band should have been. Cooper almost asked about his wife—Renee?—but he decided against it.

  Randy lifted the open Bible and rested it on his knees. His index finger followed a maze of lines and names on the family tree, carefully avoiding the bloody addition. “Check this out.”

  Cooper leaned in over Randy’s shoulder. Only a couple of entries had been filled in above Lillie Mae’s name. A mother, Sarabeth, was listed without a last name. Randy pointed to the scribble on the Mother line above Sarabeth’s name, faded and barely legible.

  Sally P.

  The line designated for Sarabeth’s father, was blank. Beyond that, no other genealogical entries had been made.

  “I guess I’ve never looked at this very closely. Like I said, Lillie Mae never mentioned her family.”

  “Well, that solves mystery number one. Sally P. is obviously a distant relative of yours.” Randy set the book back down on the coffee table and checked his watch.

  Cooper took it as a sign he would be leaving soon. He scooted a few inches away and faced Randy. “So what do we do now?”

  “I’ll get a couple of cars out around the neighborhood and see if we can lay eyes on her. You know this is a quiet, friendly area. If any of the neighbors see her, I bet they call us or bring her back here. I’ll check the restaurants down on the Harborwalk first. Maybe she wandered into one of them.”

  Cooper pointed to the Bible. “And that?” He couldn’t bring himself to say the word out loud.

  Randy squeezed Cooper’s knee once and then stood. Cooper knew better than to read too much into the intimate, friendly gesture. “I’ll ride out to Warfield myself and take a look around, though I think the odds are pretty slim she would be way out there
. She might have cut her finger cooking and wrote that in the Bible in a moment of confusion.”

  Cooper thought of the peeling knife in the kitchen. There wasn’t any blood on it. “That’s it?” Cooper caught the irritation lacing his voice and dialed it back a notch. “What about the voice-mail message? She referred to someone. She said it’s not me he wants.”

  Randy’s lips tightened into a thin line, and he squinted his eyes. “You did say she sounded scattered lately, right? Forgetful. Maybe that’s all it was.”

  Cooper looked away and poked his thumb deep down into the cushion. He didn’t buy the Mayberry-esque assessment of the situation. Maybe Randy was too used to dealing with small-town crime to assume the worst like Cooper did. Teenagers drinking beer on the Harborwalk. People peeling out of the Dairy Queen drive-through without paying. Or maybe he just didn’t want Cooper to worry.

  Randy put a hand on Cooper’s shoulder. “Listen, just stay put in case she shows up. I can’t make an official report until she’s been missing for twenty-four hours, but I’ll make certain my people know this a priority.” He pulled out his notepad again, scribbled a series of numbers on a page, ripped it out, and handed it to Cooper. “You can call me at this number anytime. Day or night.”

  Cooper took the paper and nodded, but he knew he couldn’t stay put with Lillie Mae out there somewhere. He led Randy into the foyer where they shook hands again, and Cooper opened the door for him.

  “I’ll be in touch.” Randy put on his cap and walked out into the chilly night. He paused at the bottom of the porch stairs and turned back, flashing that annoyingly sexy smile of his. “It’s really good to see you.”

  Cooper tried to form words and only succeeded in producing a half wave and a quick nod.

  Randy lingered a moment longer, before turning back to the street. He called over his shoulder. “Try not to worry, Red.”

  Cooper managed to get his mouth open, but still no words emerged. What in the hell was the matter with him?

  When the taillights of the police car disappeared down the dark street, Cooper closed the door and stood in the center of the foyer. Alone. The house was quiet again. Only ticking.

  Stay put. Not likely.

  He had a feeling Randy and his team wouldn’t find Lillie Mae wandering around the streets of Georgetown or knocking back a cold one somewhere down on the Harborwalk. He knew in his gut what he had to do, no matter how much he didn’t want to.

  Ghosts or no ghosts, he was going to Warfield.

  Chapter Five

  The sleet had stopped for the moment, and the night sky was the deepest of blues. A showy full moon illuminated blue-gray clouds, and gleaming stars peeked through a three dimensional haze. Cooper’s apprehension grew inside him with every passing mile as he fixed his gaze on the shimmering concrete ahead. The heater hummed on low, and he was glad to be locked safely inside his SUV. The image of the defiled family tree flashed in his mind, sending a shiver down his spine. He drew his coat together around his neck. He knew little of his grandmother’s past. She had always been tight-lipped about it. He should have talked to her more. He should have asked more questions.

  A lump of anxiety clotted in his throat as he searched the right side of the road. The headlights finally cast their beam on the sign. Unassuming and simple, the three-foot-wide white rectangle dangled from a charcoal post. Black letters materialized through the lingering fog like a ghostly calling card written in thin air: Warfield.

  He took a deep breath and eased the car onto Warfield Road, if it could be called a road. A two-mile single-lane dirt trail cut through a dense fortress of pine trees was more like it. Cooper hadn’t been down that road in twenty years, and he never dreamed he would be back.

  Alarm twisted in the pit of his stomach, awakened by an invisible toxic presence as thick and consuming as the fog cloaking the SUV. He tightened his prickling fingers around the steering wheel. It had been more than a decade since he yielded to that side of his nature, and the memory of the destruction left in his wake strengthened his resolve. He inhaled a deep, calming breath, and exhaled the errant energy away. He needed to get a grip.

  After two miles of clammy palms and an accelerated heartbeat, the stone gates finally appeared, more crumbled and vine-ridden than he remembered. Darkened gas lanterns punctuated each column. Passing through the gates, Cooper knew he’d crossed the point of no return. He swallowed hard and relaxed his shoulders, which had edged their way up to his ears.

  A shadowy collection of dilapidated structures broke through the fog, the ruins guarding the plantation like ancient sentries. The old slave village. A handful of decaying cabins lined each side of the road, anchored by a modest chapel with a free-standing bell tower. It was a sparse reflection of a forgotten community once teeming with more than one hundred fifty slaves.

  Twenty feet ahead on the right, the last cabin sat innocuously under the protection of an imposing oak tree. Warped boards coated in green moss broke free of weather beaten walls. The sunken roof had long lost its battle with the elements. Cooper scanned the porch. No rocking chair. No Blue. It was empty. Of course it was.

  He focused on a moonlit speck of the manor house in the distance. A somber chorus of Spanish moss hung from the tree limb canopy over the road, waving him forward. Live oaks flanked the road like precisely positioned mile markers measuring his tentative progress to the end of Oak Alley.

  He pulled up to the front of the house and shut off the engine. Chilly night air seeped into the SUV, spoiling the illusion of his warm, safe haven. The front door of the manor house sat in the crosshairs of his headlights. Calling to him. Summoning him. The tightness in his chest became a dull ache, and he rubbed it without thinking.

  Cooper reached over to the passenger seat and grabbed the flashlight he’d found in a junk drawer at Phipps House. Those heavy black industrial types also made pretty good weapons, if needed. He pushed the button on the side, but nothing happened. He tapped the top of it in his palm, and a dim light appeared, growing into a full, steady beam. Staring up at the house through the sleet-speckled windshield, he took a deep breath, exhaled, and exited the car.

  The icy ground crackled under every heavy step, the sound violating the otherwise silent night. He stopped a few feet from the landing of the front door. Under the less than robust beam of his flashlight, the house didn’t look as imposing as he feared. Awash in green and black moss and dotted with boarded windows, white paint peeled off the exterior like wet Band-Aids. The house appeared beaten down. Powerless.

  Cooper directed the light across the front of the house and sighed. What the hell was he doing? Randy was right. Lillie Mae wasn’t way out here.

  A voice emerged from some far corner of his mind—distant, hollow, and frail.

  Leave, Cooper.

  He spun around and cast the beam of light in every direction, nearly losing his balance on the slick ground cover. Though he didn’t see anyone, he was sure he’d heard it.

  He knows you’re here. It’s not safe.

  Cooper pressed a finger to his temple. He had no doubt. He’d know that voice anywhere. But it had definitely sounded in his head and not out loud.

  He peered into the darkness of the yard. “Lillie Mae?”

  A wall of icy wind slammed into his chest, filling his lungs with frozen air and muting him.

  Please, Cooper. Go now!

  Some internal compass guided him around the side of the house. He picked up his pace and headed for a small structure up ahead, inexplicably drawn to it.

  Moonlit Spanish moss danced over a clay-shingled roof, and a brick chimney rose from the center of the small building like a miniature steeple. Broken windows and vine-covered walls scarred the insignificant structure anchored by two weather-beaten doors on each end of the façade. The old kitchen house.

  Cooper closed his eyes and listened, but he didn’t hear Lillie Mae’s voice again. Frustrated and anxious, he stared at the building. A barrage of reasons why he should not
enter it barreled through his mind. That had never stopped him before. Act first, ask questions later—that was his M.O. Besides, if there was even the slightest chance that Lillie Mae was in there, that was reason enough.

  As he took a step toward the door, a chill slithered down his neck and back, leaving an army of tiny goose bumps in its wake. Cooper turned and aimed the flashlight back toward the manor house. The beam flickered twice before going out, leaving him stranded and blind with moonlight as his only source of illumination.

  Shadows of stunted breath, like dry ice rising up from the bottom of his throat, slipped through his parted lips. Something moved about twenty feet away. He focused on an imposing figure blocking his path back to the SUV. He couldn’t determine where the man had come from, though he knew he wasn’t there seconds before.

  “Hello?” His voice was much less authoritative than he’d intended.

  The broad-shouldered man walked forward. No, he glided. Without the crunch of frozen grass under foot, he floated like he was standing still on a moving walkway. Cooper shook his head. The weariness of the day had caught up with him, playing tricks with his vision again. He drew back his shoulders and straightened his spine, though his six feet were no match for the man’s height.

  He stepped to the left, drawing the stranger into the moonlight. Waves of golden hair framed a pale face that looked carved out of granite. His dark eyes gleamed in the moonlight, set against nearly translucent skin. A white button-down shirt hugged his defined chest, neatly tucked into the narrow waist of strategically wrinkled khakis. Penny loafers topped off the clichéd Carolina college-boy attire. The man stopped ten feet away. His refined beauty momentarily stunned Cooper. He was angelic. And young.

  The guy was exactly the type Cooper would target at the bar. He would have immediately zeroed in on a face and body like that. However, the beautiful stranger wasn’t right. Something in his eyes was off. They were cold, dead, and tinted with danger. His suspicions resurfaced. What was a guy like that doing lurking around a deserted plantation at night? Maybe he knew something about Lillie Mae. Maybe he brought her here.