Judas Burning (33 page)

“Olena, you have to call the sheriff. You can’t harbor a wanted criminal.”

“Girl, that’s where you’re wrong. I’m not in the business of seeing another innocent man get punished for a crime he didn’t commit. I can do what I damn well please as long as I believe it’s the right thing.” She stood up. “Now, I need some hot water. Are you going to help me or not?”

Vivian Holbert opened the door to J.D.’s knock. She tilted her head and smiled. “You’re beginning to make a habit of stopping by when I’m home all alone. Is that deliberate, Sheriff?”

“Where’s Calvin?”

“The bank, maybe. Or he’s holed up with Big Jim, drinking.” She frowned and looked up, feigning deep concentration. “Or, maybe he’s fucking his mistress.” She smiled. “You didn’t think I knew? That bitch.”

“Who are you talking about?” J.D. asked.

“Oh, play innocent, that’s okay. I know she’s a friend of yours.”

For the life of him, he couldn’t begin to imagine who Vivian was referring to. “Dixon?”

She laughed again, this time the sound was brittle. “Don’t play me for a fool, J.D. You know Beatrice Smart and Calvin are having an affair.”

“I know no such thing,” J.D. said. “I need to see Calvin. Now.”

“Check at the parsonage. I think it’s rather kinky, don’t you? Having sex in the church.”

“I can’t speak for Calvin, but Beatrice is happily married. I can’t believe she’d cheat on her husband.”

“You are such a pussy, J.D. You are. Get out of here.” She slammed the door hard.

J.D. stood for a moment, wondering if the entire scene had been a ploy to protect Calvin. No. Vivian was far too self-centered to expend that much energy on saving anyone except herself.

He went down the walk to the patrol car. He would try the bank and the school board office.

Eustace came to and felt a sharp pain in his side. He knew his ribs were broken. His hands were bound behind his back, and he was seated against the base of one of the oaks in his yard.

Three men wearing camouflage were milling about, drinking beer, laughing, and joking. They intended to take justice into their own hands.

The most important thing was to avoid waking Camille. He could endure anything they did to him as long as Camille was safe. If she stayed in the camp, he didn’t believe they would bother her. These men were Vivian’s agents. But Vivian didn’t understand that no one governed a mob. If Camille came outside and the men were drunk enough and aroused enough, they would punish her, too.

“He’s awake,” one of them said. They started toward him.

He looked down at the ground, forcing his body into total relaxation.

“Are we gonna hang him first or burn him?” one of the men asked.

“We’ll do it at the same time, like he did those girls.”

“I don’t know what Vivian told you, but I didn’t hurt those girls. If you do anything to me, J.D. will see to it that you spend the rest of your lives in jail. Vivian can’t protect you from that.”

“Old man, the sheriff won’t touch us.”

Eustace kept his gaze on the ground. He didn’t want to provoke the men. “Boys, you don’t want to sacrifice the rest of your lives. I didn’t hurt those girls.”

“Let’s do it,” one said.

“You can kill me, but you’ll pay a terrible price.”

“He’s just trying to bluff you.” The man who’d been talking stepped forward. He put his boot on Eustace’s shin. “I could snap that crippled leg of his.”

In the light from the shed Eustace could see the man’s tucked-in camouflaged pants and his combat boots. He wasn’t a soldier; he was a hunter, a man who was used to killing things that couldn’t fight back. More than anything, Eustace wanted to hit him. If he were going to die, he wanted to do it while he was trying to kill his opponent. To make that attempt might endanger Camille, though, so he would sit in the dirt like a tied dog.

“What’s the matter, old man? You afraid.”

“Yeah,” Eustace said.

The man pressed harder on his leg. Eustace wanted to scream, but he didn’t. He’d failed to turn the air conditioner back on in the camp. It would be getting hot in there. Camille didn’t sleep well in the heat. The least noise might awaken her.

“I didn’t hurt those girls,” he repeated.

“Stop saying that.” The man with his boot on Eustace’s leg pressed harder. “If you say that one more time I’m going to snap this bone.”

Eustace sat silent.

“Get the rope and the gasoline,” the man said.

Eustace could hear the river. It had been his life for a long time. Things were changing. Pollution from the Leaf had begun to affect the harvest offish. Folks were moving onto the banks, pouring sewage and filth into it. Boats were churning back and forth, filled with drunken teenagers who had more money than sense. Maybe it wasn’t a bad time to leave. His only regret was Camille. God, he didn’t want to leave her. And he wanted to see Vivian punished. She’d hurt those girls. He didn’t know why, and he didn’t care. But he knew she’d done it. And now she’d set him up so that he would die for what she’d done. He had to hand it to her. It was a masterful plan.

The man returned with a can of gasoline. Eustace felt the rope jerked around his neck, and he closed his
eyes
in preparation for the gas.

“What do you men think you’re doing?” Camille’s question came from the edge of the darkness.

Eustace opened his
eyes
to see her not fifty feet away, in a long white nightgown that billowed around her thin frame.

“Grab her!” one of the men ordered.

J.D. had scouted all of Holbert’s usual haunts. No luck. The bank president didn’t seem to be anywhere in town. J.D. wondered if Big Jim Welford had telephoned him and warned him off. If so, Big Jim would pay for it.

On the off-chance that Holbert had been injured, J.D. swung by the hospital. Nothing. Back in the patrol car, he drove to Main Street and turned toward the newspaper. In his several passes, he hadn’t seen Dixon Sinclair’s truck, either.

When he pulled past the newspaper, he saw Tucker sitting at one of the front desks. Pulling into a parking space, he got out and walked to the front door. It was locked, but when he tapped on the glass, Tucker rose and let him in.

“Where’s Dixon?” J.D. asked.

“She got a call. That black kid, Zander, called to say his father had tried to commit suicide. Dixon took off about two hours ago, and I haven’t heard from her.”

“She has a cell phone?”

“I’ve called. Four times. No answer.”

J.D. slowly inhaled. He remembered her asking him about a stay of execution. “She really believes Jones is innocent?”

“She doesn’t confide in me, but I’d have to say she’s got serious doubts.”

“I’m going to check on her.” J.D. started toward the door. He felt Tucker’s hand on his arm and turned around.

“I’m going, too.”

“The hell you are.”

“I am. I can either ride with you and entertain you, or I’ll follow in my own car. If something’s going on, I’m going to be there. Dixon is not only my boss, she’s my friend.”

J.D. had no doubt the reporter would follow him. He’d best keep the young man under his thumb. “Come on.” He stepped out the door so Tucker could lock it. “Have you seen Calvin this evening?”

“I saw him downtown about an hour ago.”

That stopped J.D. “Where?”

“He was in the Hickory Pit. With Beatrice Smart.”

The dots connected in J.D.’s brain. “I’ve got to go.” He bolted toward his patrol car, Tucker right behind him. As J.D. got behind the wheel, Tucker hurled himself into the passenger seat.

“Get out. This could be dangerous.”

“All the more reason I’m not going to budge.”

J.D. put the car in drive. “When this is over, I’m going to charge you with something.”

Tucker’s grin was self-assured. “I always wanted to be one of those journalists who gave their all for a good story.”

“This isn’t a joke.” J.D. coasted past the Hickory Pit. Only two tables were filled, neither by Holbert or Beatrice. He took a right and floored it, doing seventy down Providence Street toward the Smart residence.

“Is it Beatrice or Calvin you’re worried about?” Tucker asked.

“Both of them.”

“And Dixon?”

“I have a lot more faith that Dixon can take care of herself.”

When he stopped the car at Beatrice’s home, J.D. grasped Tucker’s shoulder. “Stay in the car. If you don’t, I’ll pick you up and throw you in the back. Then you won’t have a choice.”

Tucker leaned against the seat. “I’ll stay here. You have my word.”

J.D. got out and walked around the house, skirting the front porch, where a light burned. He checked the garage and saw John Smart’s vehicle, but there was no sign of Beatrice’s. Slipping past the hedge that surrounded the old clapboard house, he peered through the back window into the kitchen. John Smart was pouring a glass of red wine. His shoulders sagged and he checked his watch twice while J.D. watched.

J.D. knocked at the back door.

“Sheriff,” John said as he opened the door. “Is something wrong?”

“Where’s Beatrice?”

“She got a call from a member of the congregation. An emergency. She was supposed to be home an hour ago.”

“Where’d she go?”

“She wouldn’t say.” John’s worry was obvious. “I tried her cell phone, but there wasn’t an answer.”

J.D. thought about Dixon and hoped that his assessment of her was correct. “You don’t know who called?”

John shook his head. “Beatrice has this confidentiality thing. If the person requests secrecy, she obliges. Even from me. It used to be one of the things I admired about her.”

“Do you have caller I.D.?”

John stepped back to let J.D. enter. “I’m such a fool. That never occurred to me. I guess I’m not much of a detective.”

“No, you’re just an honest man,” J.D. said as he walked past him to Beatrice’s office. He picked up the telephone and checked the caller I.D. log. The call had come from the bank just after six o’clock. Holbert, or someone at the bank, had called. But Vivian could as easily have been at the bank.

“Did Beatrice say anything at all before she left?”

John considered. “Only that the caller had dropped a real bombshell.”

Which could mean anything, J.D. thought. Maybe Holbert had called to confess his relationship with Angie Salter. Or the murders. If that were the case, Beatrice could be in real danger. If Calvin did confess and Bea didn’t offer the absolution he sought, then Calvin could kill her. The person who had killed the girls was twisted enough for anything.

“What’s wrong?” John asked.

“If you hear from Bea, call me immediately,” he said. “It’s possible she’s with Calvin. If she is, tell her to get away from him as quickly as possible.”

“What’s going on?” His voice cracked with worry.

J.D. shook his head. “There’s nothing I can tell you that will help. Just call me on my cell phone if you hear from Beatrice. Find out where she is, who she’s with. If it’s Calvin or Vivian, make her get away from them.”

John nodded. “Is she in danger?”

“I can’t say for certain.”

Eustace struggled against the bonds that held him to the tree. “Camille, get out of here.”

She stood motionless. The men, too, were frozen. They stared at her as if she were an apparition.