Judas Burning

by Carolyn Haines

“My grandmother used to tell me that looking and getting are two different things.” She patted his shoulder.

  “I’ll cover the talent competition,” Tucker said, pretending to be miffed. “What about Angie Salter’s funeral? It’s tomorrow afternoon.”

  Dixon considered. “You can cover it for the paper, but I think we should both go. For Linda’s sake.” The typesetter had gone home, too upset to work.

  “Right. We should do that.” He hesitated. “Dixon, there were men up at the Hickory Pit at lunchtime. They were talking, saying they were going to hunt down the guy who killed Angie and shoot him in the woods.”

  Dixon had hoped the mob mentality would wane once the shock of finding the second body had passed. “It was probably just big talk.”

  “I don’t think so. They’re gathering tomorrow morning. Some of the men are taking off work. They’re going to search the woods with four-wheelers and boats. If that Mexican is in there, they say they’re going to kill him.”

  Dixon slumped in her chair.

  “I want to catch the guy who did this, but those men aren’t planning on bringing him back alive,” Tucker continued

  Dixon stood up. “I’m going to set this story into type, and then I’m going to find J.D. and tell him what you heard. Did you recognize any of the men?”

  “Mack Prentiss and Edward Smith. The others I didn’t know.”

  Dixon took her copy to the typesetting machine. In another year, she’d have computers so the stories could be typeset in column inches. Now, though, they just had to limp along as best they could. She’d finished when the telephone rang. Tucker answered, then came to get her.

  “It’s some kid. I could hardly understand him.” He handed her the portable.

  “Dixon Sinclair.”

  “Daddy tried to hang himself.” The voice was lost in sorrow. “His friend called me and told me. Said they took Daddy to the hospital and no one knows what happened.”

  “Zander?” She stood up. “Where are you?”

  “Even if he lives, they’re gone put him in the gas chamber anyway.” He sobbed. “He’s going to die and he didn’t do anything.”

  “I’m coming out to your house. Stay there. I want to talk to you.” She listened to his crying. “Stay right there, Zander. I mean it. I’m on the way.”

  She hung up the phone. “Tucker, you’re going to have to talk to J.D. about those men. I’ve got an emergency.”

  “Who was that?” he asked.

  She considered how much to tell him. “Zander Jones. His father is going to be executed soon for the murder of my father.” She grabbed her purse as she talked. “I’ve got to get out to his place. Something bad has happened.”

  “I’ll take care of things,” Tucker said.

  She took a breath. “Whether we can afford it or not, you get a raise.”

  She stepped into the late afternoon heat and headed to her truck. Things were getting out of control.

  Light slanted through the bedroom window, falling directly on the open suitcase on the bed. Eustace put a second pair of jeans into the suitcase, along with his socks and four pair of underwear. From his dresser drawer he got four pullover shirts. That would be enough.

  He shut the suitcase and carried it to the living room, where Camille sat motionless in a rocker. Light filtered through the stained glass window onto her face. Eustace stopped beside her. “I’ll be okay,” he said.

  “Don’t leave me.” She whispered the words.

  “I have to.” He swallowed something hard and painful in his throat. “I have to, Camille. If I go, they’ll look for me. They’ll leave you alone.”

  “I didn’t do anything.”

  He set the suitcase down and knelt beside her. “Where did you get that bracelet, Camille?” It wouldn’t be long before J.D. came back, asking that very question. Camille’s answer, whatever it might be, would be less important if Eustace were gone. With Vivian’s encouragement, the finger of guilt would point to him and the chase would be on.

  “I told you, and I told J.D. Mama gave me the bracelet.”

  Eustace touched her hair, running his fingers lightly down the fine, reddish gold tresses. “I wish that were true, Camille. That bracelet belongs to a dead girl.” Eustace could still see the sparkle of it on Angie Salter’s wrist as she’d held up the beer.

  “You’re mistaken. Daddy gave it to Mama. Mama got tired of it and gave it to me.”

  “When?” Eustace asked.

  “Last week. It was the day the girls disappeared. She was up here in the ski boat. She came to the landing.”

  Eustace held himself very still. “Vivian was here?”

  Camille hesitated. “Only for a while. She didn’t come to the house, just the landing. She was upset. Something had happened. She had the bracelet, and when I told her it was pretty, she gave it to me.”

  “Where was it?”

  “On the seat of the ski boat.”

  “Did she say anything else?”

  “She told me to keep it hidden, somewhere safe.”

  The tide of rage was so strong it left Eustace light-headed. Camille’s eyes narrowed. She could sense his emotions, and he knew he had to be careful.

  “It’s okay that Vivian was here,” he said calmly, watching to see if she believed him.

  “She told me not to tell you.”

  “Camille, you can tell me anything.”

  “Can I?”

  His heart was pounding. “Yes, you can. Why was Vivian upset?”

  “She didn’t say.”

  “You’re smart. Why do you think she was upset?”

  “Why do you care?” she countered.

  “Because I care about you. If Vivian is in trouble, it’s going to make you unhappy.”

  “Mama’s not in trouble.”

  “The day she came to the landing, was that the same day she told you she wanted to sell the houseboat?” He rocked back on his heels.

  “Are you leaving?”

  He considered. He only wanted to protect Camille. Now he had to determine the best way to do it.

  “I’m not sure. I don’t want to go.”

  “Okay, I’ll tell you. It wasn’t the day she told me she wanted to sell the houseboat. It was before that. She’d been skiing on the river, and something had gone wrong. That’s why she was upset.”

  Eustace thought about it. “If she was skiing, who was driving the boat?”

  Camille was puzzled. “She didn’t say.”

  Eustace shrugged, playing it cool. “Doesn’t really matter. Did she say why she was upset?”

  “Her shirt was torn. She was dirty.” Camille frowned. “Mama’s never dirty.”

  “Was her hair wet?”

  “Sure. She’d been skiing.”

  “Camille, I’m going to ask you something, and I need for you to tell me the truth.” He touched her hair. “Do you know what happened to those girls?”

  She shook her head. “I saw them on the sandbar. I was afraid to tell.”

  “It’s okay. You can tell me now.”

  “I went up river to Hathaway’s Point. That’s when I saw the man. He was in the woods, and he was hiding.”

  Eustace took her head. “Did he have the girls?”

  “No, they were on the sandbar.”

  “This was before or after your mother stopped by?”

  “Before. I came home. I wanted to be home before you came back from running the trotlines. I was drawing down by the dock when Mama came by.”

  Eustace pieced the time together. “I never saw her on the river.”

  “She went back downriver to Cumbest Bluff.”

  “Camille, did you look in her boat?”

  “Why are you asking that?”

  “Please, just answer me.”

  “From the dock. I walked down to meet her, and I waited at the landing. I saw the bracelet on the seat of the boat.” She smiled. “It was sparkling in the sun, like the water.”

  He stroked her hand. “Could you
see into the bottom of her boat?”

  “You think she had those girls.” She pulled her hand away. “You hate her enough to think she took those girls.”

  Eustace couldn’t deny it. “Someone took them.”

  J.D. drove to the back of the jewelry store. He hadn’t been expecting the call from Clive so soon. When he drove past the newspaper, Tucker was at the front desk. There was no sign of Dixon or her truck.

  He knocked on the back door and felt the metal give as Clive pulled the door open.

  “The bracelet was sold at Zimball’s Jewelry on Hillcrest Road in Mobile,” Clive said.

  “You’re certain?”

  “Better than that. I know who bought it.”

  J.D. grinned. “Damn, Clive, I should put you on the payroll.”

  “Big Jim Welford.”

  J.D. blinked. “Welford?”

  “Who did you think it would be?” Clive asked. “A bracelet like that, had to be someone with money.”

  “True enough,” J.D. said. “They were positive?”

  “Without a doubt.” Clive tilted his head to examine J.D. “They had Welford’s Visa card account number. He made the purchase about four weeks ago. Had his correct address.” J.D. nodded. “Does Welford purchase a lot of jewelry?”

  “Not from me. His wife wears a diamond engagement ring and a diamond ring guard.” His lip twitched up. “Showy but not really expensive. Last thing he bought in here was a pair of hoop earrings for Attie for Christmas. About fifty dollars. Big Jim feels jewelry is too flashy for his wife.” He nodded. “So who was the bracelet for?”

  “Thank you, Clive.” J.D. turned toward the back door. “Do you want to see the e-mail confirmation I got?”

  “Right now, what I have to do is find Welford.”

  “That could be tricky. I heard at the Rotary meeting that he was headed up to Montana for a week of vacation. I think he wants to avoid that reporter woman. She sure tanned his hide in the newspaper.”

  “She sure did,” J.D. said, but he was thinking about Welford and his sudden vacation plans.

  The Jones house was dark against the twilight sky, and Dixon sat in her truck. Something held her back from walking up on the porch and knocking on the door. The house was isolated, tucked back on a dirt driveway off a poorly maintained dirt road. It looked as if the paper companies owned the land behind the house. It had been clear-cut at one point but now had a ten-year growth of too-thick pines. The trees were black against the fading light, surrounding the house with darkness.

  She thought back to Zander’s call. He’d been upset, but surely not enough to harm himself. She didn’t want to walk into a scene where a kid had given in to despair over his father’s suicide attempt. Still, she couldn’t sit outside the house all night. She had work to do at the newspaper, and if Zander needed help, she had to find him now. The truck door creaked as she opened it and got out. She went to the steps, listening for anyone inside the dark house.

  “Zander,” she called. “Come out and talk with me.” Her cell phone was in the truck. She could call J.D., but the sheriff had his hands full with a mob on the verge of going berserk. She could handle this on her own. Chances were the boy was just upset and needed someone to talk to.

  “Zander?”

  She went up the steps and onto the porch. The stain she’d noticed before was still there, though faded. A fly buzzed and settled on it.

  She knocked hard on the door and called out, “Zander!”

  She turned the doorknob and the door opened. Where were Olena and her baby? Her car was gone. She could be anywhere.

  “Zander?”

  She stepped inside. The lingering smells of food hung heavy in the air. This was ridiculous. She had no right to be in the house, even if she was trying to help Zander.

  She was turning around to leave when she heard a noise in one of the back rooms. The hair on her arms stood on end. The sound was unidentifiable. It could have been someone dragging across the floor or moving something heavy. She was going to call J.D.

  It was darker now, and she heard the sound again, definitely something being dragged. Her mouth was dry with fear. If Zander or Olena were sick or injured and she left …

  She took a step backward and felt something under her foot. She flailed her arms in a vain attempt to keep her balance. Her hand snatched at a small table that came over on top of her as she fell. She hit hard enough to knock the wind out of her lungs, and as she lay huffing on the floor, she heard steps. In the dim light she saw a silhouette.

  “Be still,” he whispered, his accent Spanish.

  Dixon stopped all movement. “Francisco,” she said.

  “Si,” he answered. “Do not move.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Big Jim Welford. Hollywood Hog. Mr. Religion. All were popular nicknames for the Chickasaw County superintendent of education.

  J.D. drove the twelve miles to the Welfords’ place on Lolly Road at ninety-five miles an hour. He’d never thought about Welford’s being involved in the girls’ disappearance. He should have, though. If Welford were sexually involved with Angie, he would have a lot to lose.

  J.D. berated himself as he made a ninety-degree curve, his right wheels sliding off the shoulder as he pressed the gas harder to correct the car. Calvin had been the suspect. J.D.’s absolute dislike of Vivian had affected his logic. He’d sympathized with Calvin, married to such a paranoid bitch. Calvin’s taking up with a mistress would be understandable. Angie had been far advanced for her age. She was the kind of girl who would set her cap for someone like Calvin, a man who could buy her things and pave her way. A man with power and influence.

  But Big Jim? The man was a deacon in the Baptist church. He was a pillar of the community, the man who set the moral tone for the school system. If Welford was screwing and murdering girls, the entire county would be in a crisis of faith.

  And what of Chavez? Robert Medino, with his theories and suppositions, had planted a seed that had grown into a fearsome briar. J.D. felt as if he’d been played.

  He turned down the drive, lined with balsa cedars, and sped up to the house. He was gratified to see lights in the cedar-shake house. It must have cost at least half a million. Welford’s political connections had served him well. J.D. had heard that Calvin financed Welford’s hundred-acre spread and six-thousand-square-foot home at an interest rate of 3 percent. That had never been J.D.’s business—before.

  Lydia Welford answered his knock. She was a petite blonde who normally hid her curvaceous figure in jumpers and sack dresses. This evening she wore Capri pants and a halter top that revealed plenty.

  “What are you doing here, J.D.? We’re just about to walk out the door.”

  “Montana,” he said.

  “Right. We’re—”

  “Where’s Big Jim?”

  She frowned at his rudeness. “Packing. As I was saying, we’re running late for our flight.”

  “I need to talk to him.” J.D. moved past her into the house.

  She put her hands on her hips. “Can’t this wait?”

  “No. Where is he?” He didn’t wait for an answer but stepped onto the expensive Persian carpet and headed for the interior of the house. Lydia was following at his heels, yipping like a Chihuahua.

  “You can’t come barging in here like this. We don’t have time for—”

  He moved through a study and down a hallway to a ground-floor bedroom. Without knocking, he opened the door and stepped into the room. Welford was folding a sweater into his suitcase. He looked up, confused.

  “What are you doing here, J.D.?”

  The sheriff brought the bracelet out of his pocket. He saw a flash of recognition.

  “What’s that?” Welford asked

  “You should recognize it since you paid for it,” J.D. said.

  “What?” Lydia made a grab for the bracelet, but J.D. moved it out of her reach.

  “He bought that? For whom?” She was almost hopping in her high heels, trying to gra
b the bracelet.

  “Shut up, Lydia,” Welford snapped. “J.D. has made a serious mistake.”

  “No, I haven’t,” J.D. said. “I have a copy of the credit card transaction from Zimball’s Jewelry in Mobile.”

  Welford pointed at his wife. “Go put some coffee on.”

  “I’m not leaving here until I find out where that bracelet came from and why you bought it. You told me I couldn’t have expensive jewelry. You said the people in Chickasaw County would resent us if I wore things like that.” Her words were becoming more heated.

  “Lydia, go put on a pot of coffee. Then you’re going to wait in the kitchen until I come in there.”

  “What about our flight?”

  “Fuck our flight!” Big Jim thundered.

  Lydia turned on her heel and left the room. Welford closed the door behind her.

  “I did buy the bracelet.”

  J.D. waited.

  “I picked it up at Zimball’s a few weeks ago. For Calvin. He wanted a present for someone he was seeing, and he didn’t want it to come back on his credit card because of Vivian.”

  J.D. couldn’t be sure, but he thought Welford was telling the truth. “So you were an accessory to Calvin’s extramarital affair?”

  Welford waved his hand in the air. “Could you imagine being married to Vivian? She had Calvin’s balls in a vice so tight he was almost emasculated. When he told me he was seeing someone on the side, I thought ‘good for him.’ “

  “Except who he was seeing was a fifteen-year-old girl who is now dead.”

  Welford didn’t fake surprise. “I know. He told me just after Angie disappeared that he’d been seeing her. He’d arranged with a photographer in Mobile to do some pictures of her for a modeling portfolio. He was terrified.”

  “And you didn’t come to me.”

  “Calvin didn’t kill that girl. He didn’t. He begged me not to tell anyone because he knew how it would look.”

  “You’re an accessory to his crimes, whatever they are, Big Jim. I just want you to understand that right now. If he killed those girls, you’re an accessory to kidnapping and murder.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. I never—”

  “You’ve got to cancel your vacation.”