Melt (Book 8): Hold

by Pike, JJ

  “I’m here when you do want to talk about it. I know I deserve…”

  “No. I mean I don’t want to talk about it ever. As in, never. I’m their father. There’s an end to it.”

  Alice was shocked into silence.

  “I raised them. I loved them. They are my whole life. You don’t get to change that now.”

  Alice nodded.

  “You bring it up again and I will walk away.” He waited. “Do you understand?”

  “Yes. Thank you. I mean, sorry. I mean, I don’t know what to say. You’re the best. You’ve always been the best. And for all we know…”

  “You might not think so when you hear what I have to say.” He dug in his pocket and pulled out the worry doll Fran had been holding when she died.

  Alice looked at her husband, her heart in her mouth. Bill had said the doll was his. Fran had said it was hers. Oh, God. What terrible justice would it be if he told her that he and Fran had been lovers. I deserve whatever punishment I get. This is what happens if you lie to your husband.

  “This doll belonged to Fran.”

  Alice’s tongue was stuck to the roof of her mouth. She couldn’t speak. Her brain was about to fritz out.

  “Her name wasn’t Fran.”

  Alice shook her head.

  “Her name was Eloise Cloe Farmanday.”

  She’d heard that name. Where had she heard that name?

  “But even that was a lie. I believe it was a name she took to disguise her identity when she moved to the States.”

  The name. Where had she heard that name?

  “She gave this doll to me when I was in Guatemala.”

  The world began to spin backwards, sideways, losing its place in the heavens. Bill had never been to Guatemala. She had to be dreaming. Asleep and dreaming a horrible dream. But what could it all mean? She couldn’t make it out at all.

  “She was young. Perhaps in her late teens. I didn’t recognize her. She gave me a piece of cake.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “The doll came from another little girl, but I believe it was Fran—Eloise, whatever her name really was—who gave it to her to give to me.”

  “Why would you go to Guatemala?”

  “To meet Mateo Hernandez.”

  Alice staggered backwards. She could bear anything, but not this.

  “I killed him, Alice.” Bill didn’t look like Bill. He was a Picasso painting, all overblown eyes and strange lines. He morphed and blended, moving in and out of focus. “I killed him because I couldn’t bear what he’d done to you. And he laughed. He laughed and I shot him.”

  She couldn’t breathe. Mateo Hernandez was dead, but it was she who was breathless.

  “I do not regret it. The man deserved to die. He was an evil man. For this I’m not sorry.”

  She would wake up soon. She’d wake up in her own bed and tell Bill about this horrible, unending nightmare. He’d tell her she was his darling, wrap his arms around her, make it all better.

  “Fran was his daughter.”

  Alice shook her head. She’d called Fran her sister, her friend; carried her body to her grave; made sure she was safe from the predators. Fran? Fran wasn’t Fran?

  “Fran was Mateo Hernandez’s daughter. She told me, right before she killed herself. I ruined her life, she said, so she ruined mine. This whole thing, MELT being released into the world, is Fran—if that’s her name—this is Francesca Hernandez’s revenge.”

  Alice didn’t believe in language anymore. Words had no sense. No meaning. No form. Nothing.

  “The world is ending because of me.” said Bill, “So you see, I want to be a father for just a little while longer. You can’t take that away from me. I’m already hurting too much. Just leave me that small consolation. Can you do that for me?”

  The inky black of night—the stuff that lived inside of Alice, not the cool velvet night that lived in the sky—rose and threw its cloak over her head.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Alistair hadn’t known how deep his rage went until he learned that Josephine Morgan had killed one of his tribe. Though he kept his mouth firmly shut in the minutes after Jacinta’s revelation he knew he’d perjure himself ten times over to see her swing.

  Fortunately for him, that wasn’t necessary. His second in command—the one whom, only hours ago, he’d casually considered replacing with Jo Morgan—had cleaved to the letter of the law. It wasn’t merely justice that was about to be served; it was poetry.

  Richard led the way back to the circle where the trial was to be held.

  If “Jo” was so good at her job, perhaps she could see the change in their bearing. Richard was still bowed and limping, but he and Jacinta were bristling with righteous indignation.

  They were sworn in, each of them reciting the words of the oath without stumbling, and then gave themselves over to Richard’s capable interrogation.

  “Josephine Morgan. You have been accused of shirking your responsibilities, interfering with the pursuit of happiness, and spying on our homestead on behalf of the FBI.”

  Jo didn’t react.

  “We have a further charge to add to this list. That charge is murder.”

  Alistair kept his head down. Now more than ever, he didn’t want anyone to think he was enjoying himself. He allowed the shock from the crowd to boom through his frazzled frame and energize him. What a day this was. A day for revelations and intrigue and the truth being brought into the light.

  “We will present testimony proving that you killed Arthur Foss.”

  “I did not!” It was the first time Jo had spoken since the trial had begun. That gave her utterance some weight, but not enough to calm the swell of outrage that engulfed the Ridgers.

  Arthur had been a popular neighbor; funny, easy-going, always ready with a story to cheer your day. He wasn’t the hardest working Ridger, but he had other virtues. He knew all about Bill Everlee and his buried silver. That silver had itched away at Alistair’s brain ever since he’d learned about it. With Alice and Bill away from home he’d been delivered of the perfect opportunity to go looking for a small fortune.

  “Mandy Belken. You offered yourself as a defense witness for Mizz Morgan. In light of these new accusations do you wish to continue in that role?”

  Mandy stepped back. “I don’t know anything about any murders. I have nothing more to say.”

  Richard thanked her for her service, reminded the crowd that she had done her duty, implored that she neither be questioned nor punished for her service to the court, and moved on. “Who will stand for the defendant?”

  Who would be that stupid? No one. Not even wimpy old Herb.

  “She must have counsel if we are to proceed.”

  Still, no one stepped forward.

  “Kurt Elfton. I call on you to serve as Josephine Morgan’s defense.”

  “Me?” Kurt blushed deeply. “But I…”

  He was allowed to refuse, by law, but it would be regarded as a failure of character, given the circumstances. They’d never dealt with a murderer before. They would all want this to be fair and impartial. Kurt was known as a deep thinker and a generous soul. Even Jo Morgan could have no objection to him serving in her stead.

  “I’ll do it,” said Kurt. “But I need a moment to confer with Josephine.”

  The two were permitted to remove a small distance and talk. Josephine—she hardly deserved the courtesy of him calling her by her rightful name but it came to him out of habit—had learned the Wolfjaw way and covered her mouth when she spoke. There were no lips to read, but their bodies fairly shouted out what they were saying. She shook her head. Not once, not twice, but three times.

  When they returned, Kurt was ashen and withdrawn and Jo barely less lively.

  “How do you plead?” Richard had resigned himself to sitting, but he was no less authoritative.

  “Not guilty,” said Kurt.

  “Alistair Lewk. If you would step forward, please.”

  Ali
stair did as he was bidden and stepped in front of the judge.

  Richard left him standing there, with his hands folded in front of him, as he addressed the crowd. “We have an unusual situation. Arthur Foss is no longer with us. Alistair had conversations with Arthur prior to his death, so we’re going to allow those conversations into testimony.”

  It wasn’t usually permitted. He’d said, under oath, that he wouldn’t speak facts he did not know to be absolutely true. Alistair wanted to honor that oath in so far as it was possible.

  “I will ask that you relay the facts leading up to Arthur Foss’ death.”

  Alistair didn’t look at the crowd. He did not want to appear to be grandstanding or pandering. He needed to play the part he felt: the injured but vindicated leader who’d sent his people on a mission only to have that mission go horribly wrong. “We have been conducting raids throughout the county since we learned that Manhattan was being evacuated.”

  Richard wiped his forehead. He was sweating heavily.

  “I wanted Ridgers to have as much stockpiled as possible. We heard reports of domestic refugees flooding the counties around New York and I had no reason to believe they would stop there.”

  “Get to the point,” said Richard. That was acceptable. Alistair needed to be seen to cooperate fully. He couldn’t pad his testimony or drag his feet.

  “Alice and Bill Everlee had decamped. I’d heard rumors that Bill Everlee had been hoarding silver ingots.”

  He heard some murmurings behind him. Surely Arthur hadn’t shared that information with anyone else? It was highly prized information.

  “Arthur, who knew Bill slightly from their college days, requested that he be allowed to lead the raid on Bill’s house.” Alistair took a deep breath. He needed to lay out the facts as plainly as possible so that when he and Jacinta came to the “skip” in the record it wouldn’t stand out too much. They weren’t going to lie, but they were going to sail perilously close to the edge of truth’s natural border. “Arthur had been there before. More than once. He and Bill met from time to time, shot pool in one of the local bars, got caught up. Arthur said he’d take his family, which would make the raid seem less raid-like. He believed he could drive in, stay in Bill’s cabin, and look around at his leisure.”

  “But that didn’t happen?”

  “It did not. Arthur scouted the cabin some days earlier, to make sure Bill and Alice had not returned.”

  “Go on.”

  “The Everlee parents hadn’t returned, but the cabin had been partially trashed. There were floorboards and wall panels and beams ripped up and strewn about the place.”

  “Do we know who trashed their cabin?”

  “We do not.”

  “Continue.”

  “Arthur fell. It was an easy mistake. Any one of us could have done the same in the dark. He fell and dropped his keys.”

  Richard narrowed his eyes. “Why is this relevant?”

  “His keys had fallen into the floor. He could neither see them nor feel them. He crawled under the house, but the damage was not that extensive. There was no way his keys were on the ground. After a thorough inspection, Arthur decided to abandon his keys. However…” This wasn’t going to land well. When Arthur had told him what he’d done, Alistair had wanted to slap him in the stocks and leave him there, but that would have required that he report why he was being punished and that wasn’t an option. “Arthur torched the house so his keys would not be found.”

  The crowd shuffled and chattered. There was some debate in the back as to why anyone would be that freaking stupid, but Richard pressed on.

  “He torched the Everlee’s house?”

  “Correct.”

  “Go on.”

  “Arthur insisted he be allowed to go back to the property, as planned, with his family and search for the silver.”

  “In a burnt-down shell of a house?”

  “He had searched the house, your honor. He wanted to go back and search the underground spaces, of which there are many. Alice has boasted to me of her root cellar more than once. They’re prepared. Not as well prepared as we are, but they do relatively well for civilians.”

  Richard turned to Kurt. “Any questions so far?”

  Kurt shook his head.

  “So Arthur went back? With Gail and the children?”

  Alistair understood what Richard wanted of him. He needed to stick to the facts, not get sidetracked with stories of the Everlees and their root cellar. “Correct. Arthur took Gail and the children to the Everlee property.”

  “And then what happened?”

  “I am not an eyewitness to the events that unfolded, but I do have them firsthand from his wife, Gail. Arthur was shot and killed.”

  “By Josephine Morgan?”

  “Gail did not see who pulled the trigger, but if Jacinta might be allowed to speak?” Alistair gestured towards Jacinta who stood ready to give testimony.

  Richard shook his head. “Not yet. You say that Gail did not see who shot Arthur?”

  “Correct.”

  “But she is missing, is she not?”

  “She is.”

  “How long has she been missing?”

  “Since the day after Arthur was shot.”

  “We don’t know where she went? Or why?”

  Alistair shook his head. She’d been every bit as obsessed with the silver as Arthur, but he had no one to back his assertion that she’d probably gone back to the Everlee property and come to some harm. Best to let that one lie and concentrate on Arthur’s murder. At least there they had an eyewitness of sorts.

  “So. To Jacinta. You say you know something?”

  Jacinta didn’t hesitate. She stepped up and spoke plainly. “I saw Josephine Morgan bury Arthur’s body.”

  The crowd exploded. It took many minutes for Richard to regain order.

  All the while, Alistair kept his eyes on Jo. Her eyes flicked from side to side and she allowed her head to tilt ever so slightly. She’d done it. The woman had actually buried Arthur. She waved her representative over and whispered in his ear.

  When she was done, Kurt returned to his position.

  “You have something to add to the proceedings, Mr. Elfton?”

  “I do not, your honor.”

  The noise from the crowd was deafening. If she was pleading the fifth, even now, she looked as guilty as sin.

  “Jacinta Baule, you are testifying as an eyewitness, are you not?”

  “I am.”

  “Please tell the Council what you saw. Be as detailed as you can. In the absence of an eyewitness to the shooting we’re going to rely heavily on this testimony of Arthur’s burial.”

  Jacinta nodded. “I was in the woods over by the quarry. I saw a car on the trail…”

  “Can you say what kind of car this was?”

  She shook her head. “It was dark. Cars aren’t my thing.”

  “Very well. Continue.”

  “A man and a woman emerged from the car. They removed a large object which I later learned was Arthur.”

  Richard paused her while the crowd had their say. When they’d settled he nodded at her to continue. “Who was this man who got out of the car?”

  Jacinta shrugged. “I’d never seen him before. I don’t know who he was.”

  “Continue.”

  “They dug a pit.”

  “A grave?”

  “No, a square pit. Like this.” She paced the dimensions of a large, square hole in the ground. “They lay the body in the pit. The man left for a short time. Jo Morgan prayed. When the man came back, he also prayed, then he poured something over Arthur and set him on fire.”

  “He set Arthur’s body on fire?” Richard was as horrified as everyone around him. If any detail sealed Josephine Morgan’s sentence it was that act of barbarity.

  “He did. He burned him, then they covered him in dirt; they buried his burned body in that square pit.”

  “I hesitate to ask this next question. How do you know it w
as Arthur? Please tell me you didn’t dig him up.”

  “No. I waited and I watched. They dumped Arthur’s car in the lake.”

  Kurt stepped forward. “I have a question for Jacinta.”

  Jo waved her hands. “Leave it. Don’t ask questions. Just leave it.”

  “Proceed,” said Richard.

  “Why didn’t you report this to the Council?”

  “I didn’t have direct, incontrovertible evidence.” Jacinta was a true believer. No one in this circle would doubt that she’d held her peace because of her oath. Without knowing a truth to be the absolute truth and not conjecture, you were bidden not to speak. It was one of the things that made a Ridger a true Ridger; this adherence to their law.

  “And now you do?” said Kurt.

  “Alistair sent Arthur to the Everlee house right at that time.”

  Alistair nodded.

  “I didn’t know that before. I didn’t know Arthur had been there. I only knew he’d gone missing.”

  “When did you learn that?”

  “Today. This hour. Just after the soldiers told me Josephine was an FBI agent.”

  Kurt stepped back. He checked in with his client but she was still mouthing, “No, no. Leave it.”

  “Let me understand you, Miss Baule. You saw a man being burned in his grave, but you did not speak of it?” Richard sounded confused.

  “I did not. It is not my place to interfere with the lives of others. I didn’t know who he was at that time. When I saw the car being dumped in the lake, I didn’t put the pieces together. Only now, when Alistair told me Arthur had gone to the Everlee house and not come back, did I make sense of what I had seen.”

  “Your boss doesn’t share his plans with you?”

  “Not if they don’t concern me, no.”

  Richard took a deep breath and stood up from his chair. “We have some complicated testimony to consider. I am going to ask the Council to retire and deliberate carefully with open hearts.”

  Alistair nodded. Good. Very good.

  “This is a circumstantial case which relies heavily on hearsay. Arthur Foss told Alistair that there was silver at the Everlee house. He went there of his own volition and did not return. Gail returned from that sortie, but she spoke only to Alistair and then, a day later, left Wolfjaw. She has not been heard from since.” He turned to Alistair. “Is this your sworn testimony?”