My gut instinct was to get away from him. Fast.
“Thanks for your time, Michael. I have to meet LeMont.” My cell phone rang and I answered it, my gaze still linked with Michael’s.
Tinkie was breathless. “Sarah Booth, I’m with Kiley. She brought some pictures of the baby, and one of Adam. He’s Michael. Sarah Booth, can you hear me? Michael Anderson is Adam Crenshaw.”
“I hear you loud and clear,” I said. “I’ll be right there. Tell LeMont not to do anything rash.”
“What?” Tinkie inhaled sharply. “You’re still with Michael, aren’t you?”
“Yes. We’re just leaving the Café Du Monde. Why don’t you pick up some candles and meet me at Jackson Square?”
“I’ll call LeMont right away. Oh my God, Sarah Booth, just don’t let on that you know.”
I turned my phone off and held it in my hand. “Sorry. Tinkie had to tell me something.”
“She’s with Kiley, isn’t she?” He brought the gun out of the back of his waistband with practiced ease. “I should have killed Kiley when I killed my son.”
I’d suspected that he had killed Joshua, but to hear him confirm it so casually made my heart pound even harder. “Why did you kill Joshua?”
“He was evil. His mother was a whore.” He lifted one shoulder in a casual shrug. “God laid a curse on him, just as he did on me and Doreen and all of our offspring.”
“Michael, Doreen loves you.” It was difficult to speak with the gun pointed right at my heart.
“Love? There is only God’s love, but it comes with a heavy price. I’ve had to work hard to earn his love, but I’ve almost accomplished my mission. Isn’t that interesting, Sarah Booth? Brother and sister both on missions. Doreen, misguided though she is, believes God sent her to heal.” His smile unveiled the extent of his madness. “And he sent me to destroy the spawn of Satan.”
HIS GRIP ON my elbow was firm but not cruel as we walked across Decatur Street and down one side of the Square. Darkness had fallen and it was early yet, but some fifty people had already gathered for the candlelight ceremony. Among them were some of the young people I’d grown accustomed to seeing at the Center. One of the girls I’d first met saw us, waved, and ran over. Melissa was her name. She had a tall black youth in tow.
“Michael, Ms. Delaney, this is Teko.” She tugged the young man forward. “Doreen healed his migraines last night. He’s going to help us at the Center now.” She turned to the boy. “Teko gave up his gang to help Doreen.”
Teko was a tough-looking kid with an insolent stare. My gaze dropped down to his side, where I expected to see a switchblade or a gun. I was hoping, anyway. Michael still had the barrel of his pistol against my spine, hidden by his arm and jacket.
“Where’s Doreen?” Michael asked.
“On the cathedral steps,” Melissa said. “She wanted to start there because she wants everyone to understand that her beliefs aren’t in conflict with Christianity.”
“Melissa, would you tell Doreen we need to talk with her? It’s urgent.”
The girl frowned. “She’s getting ready to start the ceremony.”
“Just tell her,” Michael said. “Now! I don’t need your excuses.”
Melissa backed up a step, looking at Michael as if she didn’t know him. She turned abruptly. Teko fell in behind her. He glanced back over his shoulder once. “Who’s that man to be talking to you like that?” he asked Melissa. “Man needs to learn some manners. Got a bad attitude.”
They disappeared in the rapidly growing crowd. Now some two hundred people were gathered. I glanced around, hoping to see Tinkie, or better yet, LeMont—with a SWAT team.
“Walk over to the side of the cathedral,” Michael said, the gun letting me know that it wasn’t a request.
I started out and Michael pulled me to the right, dodging another group of teens who recognized him and waved. “Little vermin,” he said. “I’d like to crush them all. I’ll have to settle for killing their queen.”
34
WE MADE IT THROUGH THE CROWDS AND FOUND A PLACE WHERE WE had a clear view of Doreen. She waved at us but turned back to a cluster of women who thronged around her.
“How did you find out Lillith was your mother?” If I could keep him talking, maybe Tinkie and LeMont would show up before he assassinated Doreen.
“The Crenshaws weren’t my first adoptive family. There was another one. They told me how my mother drank and slept with men. They told me how she ranted and preached when Satan took hold of her. They took me one night to hear her. She terrified me. I knew then that she was evil. Once I got old enough to drive, it wasn’t difficult to learn a lot about her.”
Doreen moved to the top of the third step, the eager crowd spreading across the pavement and into the park. Close to five hundred candles burned. Plaintive Celtic music played.
“Thank you all for coming,” Doreen said. “It’s wonderful to see so many people gathered here to pool our energy for a healthier planet.”
Doreen stood in the golden light of a gas lamp. Only slightly elevated from the crowd, she was still a singular figure. I started to say something and felt Michael’s fingers dig into my shoulder.
“Move!” Michael pushed me forward.
I stumbled forward. “Don’t do this,” I whispered. “Michael, look at Doreen. She’s special.” The faces turned toward Doreen were filled with a soft happiness. “Look at them, Michael.”
“That’s the horror if it. Doreen deceives. She has to die.”
I recognized a tall blonde woman headed toward me and I tried to dodge to the left, but Michael’s grip stopped me. I almost cried out in pain.
“Sarah Booth, dahling,” Cece said, coming out of the crowd. She carried a golden candle with intricate designs spiraling up from the base. “I brought a candle for you.”
I was afraid that Michael would shoot her if I yelled. “Cece, get out of here!” I spoke softly but with urgency.
Michael moved the barrel of the gun from my back. He eased it past my side so that he had a clear shot at Cece. In the press of people, I didn’t think Cece could see the gun.
“Sarah Booth, dahling, don’t run away from me.” Cece kept coming. Behind her was Teko, his gaze riveted on Michael.
“Cece, run!” I yelled as I pushed backwards, hoping to throw Michael off balance. He stumbled, but quickly regained his footing. “Cece!” I slammed into Michael’s arm, pushing the gun to the side. A wild shot rang out and people began to scream and panic.
To my utter amazement, Cece dove at my knees, bringing me down hard. It was a tackle that would have earned her respect on any professional team. We both hit the pavement and rolled. I heard Michael’s howl of pain, and the gun skittered toward me. I was about to grab it when a petite, manicured hand picked it up. I looked up from the pavement to see Tinkie aiming the weapon at Michael.
“Don’t even breathe,” she said, her voice and hand steady.
Michael was holding his left forearm in his right hand just above the handle of a large knife. Only a few feet away, Teko stood with his feet spread, ready to pounce.
“Come on, man,” Teko said, crouching a little lower. “I’ll take you down!”
“Not necessary,” LeMont said, stepping out of the crowd and grabbing Michael. “I’ll take it from here.” He called a uniformed officer over. “Get an ambulance,” he said. “Get his arm stitched and then take him to the station.”
TINKIE HANDED DOREEN a glass of bourbon as she huddled on her patio. LeMont sat just beyond the reach of the soft lighting, his face in shadows. We’d left Cece to handle the crowd at Jackson Square. She said she knew all the words to “Kumbaya.”
“Drink a little,” Tinkie urged Doreen. “You’re shaking.” She glanced at me. “You aren’t shaking, Sarah Booth, but I don’t have to urge you to drink.”
“Tell me everything you know,” Doreen said, taking the glass and straightening her posture. “I have to understand why my brother hated me so much.” Her voice had
begun to break, but she kept talking. “My brother and the father of my child.”
“Oh, Doreen,” Tinkie said, rubbing her shoulders. “You didn’t know. You couldn’t have known.”
“But he did,” Doreen said. When she lifted her face, she looked puzzled. “Why did he hate me so much?”
“He hated Lillith and everyone related to her, including himself,” Tinkie said gently. “He didn’t really know you.”
“But Michael had an alibi for that night,” Doreen said. “He was with Trina.”
“We believe both you and Ms. Zebrowski were drugged,” LeMont said.
“Why didn’t he just kill me when he killed Rebekah?” Doreen asked.
I did know the answer to that. “Because he wanted to destroy your ministry. By killing Rebekah, and having you convicted of her murder, he thought he could show your followers that you were a false prophet. He wanted to destroy your ministry before he killed you.”
“So much hatred,” Doreen said, her voice still shaking.
“It’s a good thing that Teko kid was there,” Tinkie said. “I’ve never seen someone throw a knife like that.”
“It wasn’t just coincidence,” Doreen said softly. “All things happen for a reason.”
The sound of the patio door creaking open made all of us freeze. I half-expected to see Cece arrive, but it wasn’t my tall, elegant friend. The latest arrival was short and wearing a nun’s habit.
“Sister Mary Magdalen,” Doreen said, rising. She went to the nun and hugged her.
“I came as soon as I heard,” the sister said. “I’m so sorry, Doreen.”
As if on cue, Tinkie, LeMont, and I rose. It was time to go. Sister Mary Magdalen might be able to offer the comfort we didn’t know how to give.
“I HAVE TO patch things up with Oscar,” Tinkie said as the elevator stopped on our floor. “I can’t go on like this.”
“Good luck,” I said, hugging her. “I’m going to bed. I’m so tired I can hardly stand up.”
Tinkie grasped my hand. “Did you ever think it was Michael?” she asked.
I thought about it. “I should have, I guess. But I never would have thought Rebekah’s father and Doreen’s brother were one and the same.”
“Me, neither,” she said. “When are you going home?”
“I’m picking Hamilton up at the airport at ten.” I couldn’t suppress my smile. “Then we’re going away for a few days.”
“And Cece said you were going to screw this up,” Tinkie said, squeezing my hand. “I never lost faith in you.”
35
BY EIGHT O’CLOCK THE NEXT MORNING, I’D DETERMINED THAT I needed to go shopping. Everything I’d brought from home was dirty. I’d been forced to wear an incredibly risqué thong and matching push-up bra under my black jeans and a green sweater.
I was short on clean clothes, but I’d awakened refreshed and eager for the day. Hamilton was coming back. In fact, he should already be on his plane, taking off from Dulles.
I repacked all of my things, which consisted of throwing them helter-skelter into the suitcase, settled my bill via the television checkout, and then scratched a hurried note asking Tinkie to make sure Kiley checked out of the Hilton, since she was living the good life on my credit card.
At eight-thirty, I placed a call to Doreen. Sister Mary Magdalen answered. Doreen was asleep.
“Doreen and I will be in Zinnia in a few days,” the nun said. “I need to settle the bill, and Doreen wants to visit her mother’s grave.”
“Is Doreen really okay?” I asked.
“She is,” Sister Mary Magdalen said. “As hard as it is to see sometimes, we both know that all things happen for a reason.”
“Does she really believe that?” I asked.
“She does,” the sister said. “And so do I.”
I was thinking about faith—Doreen’s in a Divine plan and Tinkie’s in me—when the telephone rang.
“Hello,” I said, eager to hear Hamilton’s voice.
“Ms. Delaney?”
The male caller’s voice was somewhat familiar, but I couldn’t place it. “Yes?”
“It’s Dewayne Dattilo.”
“Has something happened to Sweetie Pie?” She had only a few more days in detention.
“The hound is perfectly fine,” Dewayne said. “It’s . . . well, the sheriff said I shouldn’t call you, but I felt like I had to do it.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Mrs. Peters is asking to talk to you.”
“Connie wants to talk to me?” I sat down on the bed. “Why?”
“She said she’d go into psychiatric treatment if you’d talk to her. Sheriff Peters said no one was to call you, but I just thought if you could really talk her into getting some help, we could put an end to all of this. It’s taking a heavy toll on the sheriff.”
I closed my eyes. “Where is Coleman?”
“He’s at the hospital with her.” There was a pause. “He said he’d skin anybody who called you. I was hoping you wouldn’t have to tell him it was me.”
“Thanks, Dewayne. You did the right thing.” The hand holding the phone had begun to sweat.
“Are you coming?”
I straightened my back. “Yes. I’m on the way right now.”
After replacing the phone, I tore up the note I’d written Tinkie and wrote a new one, asking her to meet Hamilton’s plane and explain that I’d gone home to Zinnia. If Tinkie retrieved him from the airport she would still have time to make her doctor’s appointment. As I slipped out of my room with my bags, I slid the note under Tinkie’s door. I’d call her from the car when I was out of town.
Sure, it was cowardly. So much for her faith in me. Besides, I didn’t need Tinkie to tell me what I was leaving behind. I’d have a nice, long drive to think of Hamilton and what I was walking away from. In going to Zinnia, I had made my choice. I would never be able to convince Hamilton or myself otherwise.
Did I love Coleman more? I couldn’t answer that. But I’d known him longer. He was part of my life. Maybe I didn’t have the courage to live a fantasy. Maybe it was just that fantasies should never have a chance to become reality. I didn’t have any answers. I only had regret for what couldn’t be.
THE BLINDS WERE drawn in Connie’s room and I stepped into the semi-dusk, giving my eyes time to adjust. Two vases of flowers brightened the otherwise bleak room.
“So you came.”
I stepped closer to the bed, trying not to show the shock I felt. Connie was thin, but she had on make-up and her hair had been washed and styled. I’d expected Olivia de Havilland in The Snake Pit and I’d gotten Farrah Fawcett in a hospital bed.
“I hear you want to talk.” I wanted this conversation over with. I had the distinct feeling I’d been played.
“Does Coleman know you’re here?” she asked.
“No. One of the deputies called me.”
Her top lip curled. “I knew he wouldn’t ask you to get involved in this. He wants to act like you’re not to blame for what’s happened to us.”
It would do no good to deny it. “The deputy said you’d agree to psychiatric treatment if I came to talk to you.”
“And you trusted the word of a crazy woman?”
I’d just seen crazy down in New Orleans. Connie wasn’t even a pale shade of the real thing. “Look, Connie, I walked out on a lot of important things. Are you going to honor your word?”
“I just wanted to see if you’d come. That tells me plenty about how deep you’re in this with my husband.” Bright spots of anger burned on her cheeks. “That woman in New Orleans said that your relationship with my husband wasn’t the issue. She said that I had to learn to love and value myself. I figured you paid her to tell me all that happy horseshit.”
“I came because Coleman is my friend. You’re destroying him, Connie. You know that.”
“Yes,” she said. “I do. And I don’t think it’s punishment enough for a lying cheater. And don’t hand me any of that karma crap, eit
her.”
“Coleman has never cheated on you,” I said, even though I knew I was wasting my breath.
“You mean he’s never physically committed adultery.”
“That’s right. You know that, too. You’re falsely accusing Coleman.”
“Oh, I don’t think so. There are all kinds of ways to cheat. Coleman thinks about you all the time. He daydreams the things he’d like to do to you.” She raised up on her elbows and I could see the bony points of her shoulders. I’d never really believed that a person could be too thin, but Connie was living proof that it could happen.
“Coleman is maried to you. He made a decision to stay with you, if you’d let him. You’re pushing him away, Connie, and you’re destroying yourself in the bargain.”
“As if you cared what happened to me,” she said.
“I don’t care what happens to you. It would suit me just fine if you evaporated. But Coleman cares about his baby.” I looked at her body and wondered how much damage she’d already done to the fetus. Malnutrition could have severe consequences.
“Yes, Coleman cares about the baby. To him, I’m an expendable host.” Her eyes narrowed. “I hate this baby.”
“Connie, are you going to talk to a psychiatrist?” I kept my voice level, but her potential for self-destruction was scaring me.
“On one condition.”
“What’s that?”
“You give me your word that you won’t see Coleman.”
“You have my word. I haven’t been seeing him.”
“Liar! I know about the cozy cookout you two had.”
She was well informed for a woman who’d barricaded herself in a house. Then again, it was Zinnia. The grapevine was always in full bloom when it came to gossip.
“We had burgers. We talked. There’s no harm in what we did.”
“I want your word it won’t happen again.”
The fact that Connie was trying to blackmail me irked me to the max. “You have my word that Coleman and I won’t carry on a romantic relationship. That’s as good as it gets.”
Hallowed Bones Page 29
