A few minutes later the waitress returned with his drink and a red plastic basket overflowing with thick-cut fries and a hamburger bun stuffed full of mustard-yellow slathered shredded pork. One bite and Cole felt revived from the heat outside. The spicy mustard and vinegar-based sauce oozed out the corner of his mouth, and he caught it with his tongue before it dripped onto his tan linen shorts. He learned in a ‘geography of bar-b-que’ class at the University of South Carolina that the state was divided into four distinct bar-b-que sauce regions, with Charleston split between the vinegar sauce of North Carolina and the more local mustard-vinegar sauce. To him, bar-b-que was one of the two. The other, tomato and ketchup sauces were just too sweet and were unknown to him until he went to college. Popping a fat garlic-salted fry into his mouth, his longing for Southern things washed over him. He was home.
At a quarter till four Jackie finally called. “Hey, sorry for the delay. This place is crazy with all this going on. My chief has decided I can just communicate with you seeing as how the FBI is already involved and…well, you’re my brother and all. I located that Calhoun guy. Cole… He’s dead.” There was silence as Cole processed the information.
“He committed suicide. It looks like he jumped off the old bridge like ten years back. From what I know so far he was pretty messed up after you and he were found and never really got over it. Sorry bro.”
For the first time since learning of his kidnapping he was thankful for the secret his family had kept from him…that his mind had blacked out. That could have been me.
“Does he have any family? Maybe they know something.”
“Already on it. Seems he had a brother. He’s a professor or something over at the College of Charleston. Another officer here already talked to him and set up a meeting this evening. Captain was hesitant, but has agreed that you can attend. You can thank your buddy Leas for that.”
Agent Leas wasn’t his buddy, but Cole was thankful, nonetheless. Cole wanted to understand this craziness that he had just been clued in on and that meant talking to everyone that had anything to do with it, or knew of it.
Slurping down the last bit of his Sprite, Cole asked, “When and where, sis?”
“We’re to meet him at the college. Meet me at the house, say six, and we can ride over together. Hanna ‘the miracle worker babysitter’ is at the house with Billy and says she can stay on till later if I drop off some dinner. God, I love her.”
Cole interrupted, “Well, I’m at Melvin’s if you want me to grab their dinner and then head over there.”
“Perfect! Anyway, I need to run. You being in town has kicked up a shit storm here and I need to get back to work if you are ever going to pay me back.”
Cole laughed. “Okay sis, see you in a bit.”
CHAPTER 55
IT WAS ALMOST seven thirty by the time Cole and his sister reached the history complex on the C. of C. campus. Cloaked under giant live oaks and moss, the two-hundred and thirty-three year-old school with its red clay and brick exterior looked more like well-preserved Spanish ruin than a university. The emptiness of school being out for the summer only emphasized this. No wonder it was often the backdrop for movies like White Squall, The Notebook, and The Patriot. “What was all that traffic about, sis?” Cole was looking over his shoulder as he exited the SUV.
“Uh, don’t get me started. Ever since they started filming that Army Wives show here, trying to get around this campus has sucked every other weekend. Then there is some reality show shooting here, too. That show has royally pissed off some of the houtie touties. I’m glad I stay on the other side of the Cooper.”
Cole knew the show. One of those on Lifetime, the ‘men suck channel,’ Cole would always say. Granny had her TV locked on that channel whenever he visited her at her old place. After an hour or so of the channel, he didn’t know whether to hate himself or be thankful he wasn’t old enough to be poisoned, stabbed, or run over by a raging woman out for revenge of her daughter, son, or just because she had been wronged. Cole attempted to shake off this mental conversation as they walked up the steps of the old building, but Jackie kept it going.
“But I think I’ll try out as an extra for that new CBS show Reckless that they’re starting to film here. That evil Twilight vamp Cam Gigandet is too damn hot. Did you see him in Burlesque, half-naked? That eight-pack? Yum. He can wear my Lululemon spandex yoga pants anytime he wants. He just rented a place around here somewhere for when it shoots, and it’s a legal show about cops. Uh, hello! I’m perfect!” She flipped her blonde hair as though she were on some imaginary red carpet in Hollywood.
Cole smiled at his sister as they hit the top step. “Just invite me to the wedding, lady. You can do like Ryan Reynolds and Blake Lively just did and have it down the road from Mom and Dad’s at Boone Hall Plantation. If it was good enough for them and also inspire Twelve-Oaks for Gone With the Wind, then it should surely be good enough for you and Cam.” The thought of seeing his sister in a hoop-skirt flashed across his mind, causing him to think, That would be a wedding to see.
CHAPTER 56
FINDING THE PROFESSOR’S third-floor office, they walked in to a full house. Agent Leas was on the left, sitting on a weathered, deep-brown leather couch, staring across the room at two officers standing next to an oak desk. One he recognized from the Mount Pleasant PD; the other, in a grey-blue shirt, he associated with Charleston County Police. Jackie walked in with authority, as if to say ‘this is my turf.’ Their host was obviously missing. “So, where is this guy?” Jackie had little patience.
“He ran down the hall while waiting on you. Should be back in a second.” Agent Leas looked tired compared to Cole’s last visit with him just twenty-four hours earlier.
“Excuse me, sir.” Still standing in the doorway, Cole felt a hand on his back. Turning in, he was faced with a diamond-faced man almost matching Cole’s height. Hipster-styled dark hair emphasized the aquamarine, triangle eyes of man as he passed into the room. His tan suggested he was often shirtless, running some sidewalk on the Peninsula. Jackie flashed a huge grin at Cole who turned away to avoid being seen doing the same.
“Officer Mouzon, Cole, this is Assistant Professor of History Cash Calhoun.” Agent Leas was acting liaison. Cole continued to take inventory of Cash as Leas introduced everyone. Cash wore a large-patterned pastel plaid fitted shirt, rolled at the sleeves and un-tucked to hang over a pair of navy shorts. A slight amount of chest hair was revealed between deep unbuttoning at the collar. Scruff from a few days of ignoring the razor accented the look.
Cash looked at his audience from behind his paper-covered desk as if to say, “And, how can I help you…?”
Agent Leas decided to start the conversation. “Mr. Calhoun, as I explained on the phone, we need to discuss your brother and the events of his kidnapping thirty-five years ago.”
“Of course. But you do understand, I wasn’t even born yet? So I don’t know how much help I can be…well, not around for that! I was certainly around for the aftereffects.” Cash looked down at his desk in heavy thought. Looking up again, he said, “I’ll do what I can. That ruined my brother and ultimately, it took his life. I want to understand. I want to help.”
“How much do you recall, Mr. Calhoun?” Leas was taking lead on the interrogation and the other officers were more than happy to sit back and just take notes.
Cash sat behind his desk and Cole followed in getting comfortable, leaning into the open door frame.
“Like I said, I was born almost a year after that, in 1983. Mark was five when that all went down from what I understand, six when I was born. I always remember him in therapy, and the outbreaks and tantrums. My parents tried their best, but he just seemed broken and damaged. Fights, cutting himself, and ultimately a lot of alcohol. That’s how he died. Too much vodka and a jump off the Old Bridge.” Cole’s eyes were deep with emotion.
Leas was leaning up against the desk as the others sat silent. “Mr. Calhoun, were you ever told of the event, what happe
ned?”
“It wasn’t like we talked about it much around the dinner table, Agent. But, did it get mentioned, yeah. Mark had horrible nightmares when we were young. We shared the same room and I would hear him going through it. It always ended in a scream. My parents stopped coming to check by the time I was ten. There was nothing they or anyone could do; he was stuck in a very dark, painful place. He would say it was like the event was stuck on a loop, playing out over and over again in his head. Any lifeline thrown out by therapy or my parents was never reached for. It was like he just couldn’t see it, feel it… that he was safe.
“And, again, I’m sorry to have to put you through this. But, as I explained on the phone, there appears to be some recent activity that links to your brother’s, and Mr. Mouzon’s, kidnapping.”
Cash looked over at Cole, taking his first moment to contemplate what had just been said. He was looking at someone who had been there with his brother, who knew what his brother had gone through and the pain he suffered. The look on his face said he was asking himself, ‘Why has this person before him survived apparently unscathed?’ His gaze made Cole uncomfortable and he looked toward the floor out of deference. Seconds went by before Cash turned and started talking again.
“Agent, from what I understand, from what I recall hearing growing up… Mark was snatched with Mr. Mouzon and his mother. Five days later, he was found with Mr. Mouzon, here, in the marsh behind a school over in Mount Pleasant. It’s all in the police report that you sent over. Ms. Mouzon dead, them being half-starved and dehydrated, the brands.” Cash was clearly upset at having to tell the story.
The officers bent their necks to relieve their obvious cricks and readjusted their stance to settle in for the conversation. Unlike Cole, there was no sign of sympathy, just blank stares.
Looking over to Cole as he began to speak, Leas asked Cash, “Did Mark ever talk to you about it…about what happened?”
“Not directly, no. But, like I said he would say things when he was in a panic, things that seemed to be playing out in his mind as if he was still there. Your report mentions a third boy. Mark mentioned him a lot. Called him ‘Lake.’ The file has all that in there, though.”
“Are there any details not in the file that you recall?”
Cash thought hard as he looked down at the drawer of his desk. “Well, I mean, it’s hard to say. I would really have to think about that and re-read that report. The only thing that stands out is that the report says Mark didn’t remember much about the boy, no real description. But I definitely recall him saying in a dream or something that the kid was younger, maybe by a few years, and had a cut, a gash on his hand. Mark seemed worried about the Lake kid, a lot. I guess rightfully so, since he was never found. After he was about ten, Mark just stopped talking about it. Hell, he stopped talking about anything, just keeping it all in and reliving it over and over again. Agent, for him, he never got out.”
CHAPTER 57
COLE SHUDDERED AT what Cash had just described. He was being told he was held captive with this man’s brother, forced to watch his mother be tortured and left for dead. But he had no memory of it. The dream, that horrible dream, had unknowingly been his only recollection of the event. His mind had put up a wall so thick, so high that the effects that ravaged Cash’s brother had never materialized in his own mind. For the first time since hearing about his childhood he was thankful. But whether he wanted to or not, he needed a key to that dark forgotten place if he ever expected to understand and survive.
Mentally rejoining the conversation, Cole caught Leas talking to Cash, now standing to shake the agent’s hand. “Please do that, Mr. Calhoun. You have my information and the others’, too, I expect. If you do think of anything, please let us know at once.”
“Should I be worried? Is the guy back?”
Wiping down his jacket, Leas responded. “You have no concerns Mr. Calhoun, but let me ask you, have you received any strange notes, letters with cryptic messages?”
Cash’s mind showed shock and interest. “No, should I have? What kind of letter are you talking about?”
“Well, here, let me show you.” Leas walked across the room to another officer and then back to the front side of the desk. Cole recognized the letter being pulled out of a clear bag with red taped top. Cash stood to inspect the item.
“May I?”
Leas nodded. “Sure.”
Cash took the letter and inspected it further, turning it and then holding it up to the light. “Agent, I haven’t received anything like this. Is this from the man that took my brother and Mr. Mouzon?”
“We can’t really say. Perhaps someone connected to him.”
“Poinsett? Sounds like a woman to me. But what I find more interesting is the name itself.”
“What do you mean, Mr. Calhoun?” Cash had Leas’ attention.
“Well, you know that name, right?” He looked around the room, to find no agreement. Cash rolled his eyes in apparent disbelief of the stupidity he had found himself surrounded.
Shaking his head, Leas asked, “Please fill me in.”
“Well, the name Poinsett has history here in Charleston. You probably don’t know this, but the poinsettia that we see at Christmas time is named after Joel Roberts Poinsett, a Charlestonian, who discovered it in Mexico. Like Mr. Mouzon here, Poinsett was of Huguenot decent, his family having fled religious persecution. They came to the Holy City after the renovation of the Edict of Nantes in 1685. In fact, I believe the families may have arrived around the same time, in the late 1600s.” Cole knew about his Huguenot past from stories Granny told at holidays, but hearing a stranger discuss it so analytically felt uncomfortable, like he had been spied on.
Cash continued as though he were giving a seminar in some auditorium. “Born in March 1779, as a boy he lived back and forth between Europe and Charleston, learning military arts, culture, and history. This guy dined with Alexander in Russia, acted as consulate in Argentina and Chile, and worked with Andrew Jackson as a secret agent, acting as the proverbial ‘fly on the wall’ to Charleston’s discussions of secession, which Jackson used to craft policies to avoid a civil war. He even co-founded the National Institute for the Promotion of Science and Useful Arts in 1840, what you and I know as the Smithsonian Institute.”
Cole thought Leas was going to yawn when he first opened his mouth to speak. “Professor, do you know anyone who would have a link to this Poinsett person or why they would use the name?”
“Not a clue. Poinsett was a botanist; you are dealing with poisons. Not to be crass. But, poinsettias are red, like blood. And it’s a familiar family name in this region. So, maybe a relative?” He shrugged his shoulders.
“Being the oldest museum in the Country, the Charleston Museum has a huge collection of materials on subjects like that. I’d recommend trying there. I can try to see what they have, if you would like.”
Leas had already lost interest in the topic, turning back to the other agents in a sign to ‘wrap it up.’ His back turned picking up his files from one of the office’s tables, he said, “If you could, that would be great. In the meantime, this has been educational, but you are a professor after all. Thank you again for your assistance and time, Mr. Calhoun. We all appreciate it. Again, you have our information should you learn anything about this Poinsettia link, please let me know.”
Cash bent around the desk in an attempt to make eye contact with Leas. “Poinsett, agent. Not poinsettia… that is the plant.”
Turning, the agent nodded his head. “Poinsett. Just let me know what you find out as soon as possible.”
“Will do, Agent.” Cash appeared deflated by the Agent’s lack of interest in history.
The agent and other officers left the room, leaving Cole to linger. He could hear Jackie talking to the officers in the hall. Walking over to Cash, Cole extended his hand. “Cole Mouzon, sorry we didn’t get introduced under better conditions. Thank you for all your help. I’m sorry; I don’t remember your brother. Hell, I didn
’t even know about all this until a day ago. But I promise, I will do everything I can to understand this, to understand what hunted your brother, and bring this person down before he or she takes down me or anyone else.”
“What do you mean takes you down?” Cole looked slightly shocked; he had figured that Cash had been told why this was all kicking up now.
“They didn’t tell you? Someone…a woman is back and killing all those who were kidnapped. From what the tea leaves say, I’m next.”
“What!? I just assumed from what I was told earlier today that the guy was at it again kidnapping people. Killing? You?” Cash shook his head in remorse and shock. “Oh my god, I am so sorry. Well, what are you going to do? I mean they’re going to get…you said her?”
“Yeah, ‘her.’ Seems it’s someone new. And, just trying to live, man. Just trying to live.” Cole’s words were calm and patient. It was the truth. He knew it. He was still detached from any sense of fear or pain as his cold analytical side stood guard, protecting him, and yet driving him toward danger as he tried to understand and solve this mystery.
“Here, let me give you my number. Putting aside all of this, I would like to know your brother, who he was, what he went through. My inability to remember was an obvious gift, after listening to you. But whether I want to or not, I need to remember…to understand before this person comes. If you remember anything, please let me know. I will understand if getting involved is the last thing you want to do, though. Either way, I would like to hear more about your brother, if you are at all interested.” Cole grabbed a pen from the desk and tore a sheet from a stray pile of yellow Post-its. After writing down his number he shook Cash’s hand and left to join his sister, still chatting in the hall.
The Trees Beyond the Grass (A Cole Mouzon Thriller) Page 18
