With Cruel Intent (55 page)

time, and nobody gets hurt. The info will

be in your packet.”

“What do you mean ‘on time’?”

Lester inquired.

“We’ll have the occupant away

from the house from 8:00 p.m. to about

10:00. You’ll have the house to yourself,

do this one up right, tear it apart like you

were in a frenzy. This one has to put the

police and the media over the top,” his

handler informed him.

“They obviously don’t know about

Seymour’s arrest and the implications,” he

thought. “Okay, I’ll be there at 8:00 p.m.

and out before 10:00. Anything you want

left at the scene, pictures or anything like

that? I could do some more artwork if you

like.” Lester’s plan would move ahead

regardless of how it would impact his

employer’s scheme. He wasn’t stupid, not

by a long shot, he knew it was just a

matter of time before they figured out that

Seymour had nothing to do with the

shooting or the break-ins, but before that

revelation came he would need to be on

his way with Blanche.

“Nope, you just keep doing what

you think is working, you’ve been very

good at what you do. Your money will

show up when the job is done,” Felix

assured him.

“It better! Don’t want to have to

track you guys down. So this will be the

last time we talk, I’m abandoning my

place after Thursday, don’t try to find

me,” he concluded.

“Oh, I’m sure we won’t need to,

thanks for your help. Good luck!” Felix

hung up, a wry smile twisted across his

face.

CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN

Blanche left the library as soon as

she was able to secure front desk help.

Marcus had been kind enough to offer a

ride to the overwrought young lady, and

they were on their way to the Wood farm,

following the directions Seymour had

given her. The ride was a quiet one, she

had much to think about and sort out in her

own mind. Marcus was cautious, but

comforting with his words of hope, he

spoke with assurance and clarity that

brought peace to her mind. He knew

Seymour as well as anybody at the library

and knew that he was not the person he

was accused of being. It was not in his

nature. His confidence in a speedy

resolution would make it easier to break

the news to Mrs. Wood, and having the

older, wiser Marcus there couldn’t hurt.

They rolled up to the modest,

unassuming farm. A small country home

sat at the end of the drive, the old pickup

truck parked there, a couple of hay bales

in the back. A barn with red, peeling paint

could be seen a ways behind the house,

the doors hanging loosely from the worn

hinges, and a rusty old tractor just visible

inside. It was not what Blanche expected,

but she could see signs of the hard work

and labor that had fashioned the character

of the man she had fallen for. A woman in

her late fifties walked onto the porch, an

apron around a well worn blue dress and

a mixing bowl tucked inside the curve of

her left arm, with a spoon handle in her

right that extended into the bowl.

The two got out of the Galaxy 500,

Marcus’ pride and joy, cherry red and in

mint condition.

“Mrs. Wood,” Blanche said,

walking toward the woman on the porch

and extending her hand.

“Yes, and you must be Blanche.”

She easily recognized the librarian from

her son’s description. “You are even more

beautiful than my son described. It’s no

wonder he’s so taken with you. And

who’s your friend?”

“Mrs. Wood this is Mr. Marcus,

he works at the library with Seymour and

me.” The two shook hands.

“Well, what brings the two of you

this far out in the middle of the day?” the

puzzled woman inquired, looking back

and forth between her two visitors.

“I’m afraid we’re bringing some

bad news, Mrs. Wood. It seems that

Seymour has gotten into some trouble at

school.”

“What kind of trouble?” she asked,

not allowing Blanche to finish her

statement.

“Pretty serious trouble. He’s been

arrested for having a concealed weapon

hidden in his locker.”

The older woman staggered back,

bumped her left elbow against the screen

door and dropped the bowl, shattering it

into a hundred pieces, shards covering the

front porch. Mr. Marcus stepped quickly

to catch the woman before she went down

as well. Blanche also bolted forward to

assist, as she was able. The three moved

into the living room and Marcus led Mrs.

Wood to a chair where she sat, putting her

head in her hands.

“What does this all mean? My

Seymour would never do anything like

that. He doesn’t own a gun, where would

he get one?” Her mouth was speaking the

first things that were coming to her mind.

“Now, now Mrs. Wood, we know

as well as you do that Seymour isn’t

capable of hurting anybody. This is just

some sort of practical joke, the authorities

will get to the bottom of it and he’ll be

home in no time,” Marcus offered.

“I hope you’re right,” she said,

taking a hold of Marcus’ wrist and holding

it tightly.

“I think we should go see him,”

Blanche said.

“Absolutely! My boy must be a

mess,” she said, knowing him well. “Give

me a minute to get my things together and

we’ll go. Should we go together?” she

asked.

“You bet mum, I’m at your

disposal today. We’ll get this done

together.” His upbeat and optimistic

attitude helped to lift the women.

The trio arrived at the Valdosta

Police Station in the late afternoon and

entered the front doors, arm in arm. Mrs.

Wood approached the front desk and

spoke with the Sergeant that was manning

the station.

“Yes, young man, I believe you

have my son in custody here, and we

would like to see him,” she said,

motioning to the others with a sweep of

her hand.

“I’d love to let you speak with him

Mrs. Wood, but we’ve just transferred

him to the Sheriff’s Department. You

should be able to catch up with him

there,” the officer said, understanding the

anguish the accused mother must be

feeling.

“The Sheriff’s Department, why

have they taken him over there?”

“The Sheriff has jurisdiction over

The Stalker case and we positively

identified the gun found in your son’s

locker as the one stolen from a crime

scene, and the one used to shoot Jasper

Jackson on the weekend,” the police

officer clarified for the group.

“That’s impossible! Seymour was

with me at home on Saturday night. He

could not have shot anybody. This is

ridiculous! Somebody is railroading my

boy and I won’t put up with it!” The older

woman suddenly became very angry and

defiant. She turned, stormed away from

the desk, took the other two by the hands

and led them from the police station.

“I’ll be damned if I’m going to

stand for this bullshit!” the enraged

farmwoman hissed through clenched teeth.

“We’re going to the Sheriff’s Office.”

The drive took about ten minutes

and no one said a word. Mrs. Wood

simmered in her seat, a torrent of anger

building inside her. She’d survived the

death of a husband, the near collapse of

her farm, and she was not going to let her

son be incarcerated for something he

could not have done. She was angry! No,

furious! And somebody was going to hear

about it.

With

the

500

parked,

the

threesome made their way to the front

door, Mrs. Wood leading the way. Mr.

Marcus tried to temper her response but

she was not in the mood for listening.

Stepping inside the doors, she surveyed

the landscape, desks with clerical staff, a

few deputies milling about and a woman

seated at a main desk. She boldly walked

to the woman, slammed her fist down on

the desk for affect, and grabbed the

attention of the woman and most of the

office.

“Where in the hell have you got my

son?” she half yelled.

Arlene stammered, more than a

little surprised by the attack from the

modest looking countrywoman. “Who?

What are you talking about? Who are

you?”

“I’m Lillian Wood, and I better be

able to see my son pretty damn quick! You

hear me?” she continued her aggressive

assault.

“What is going on out here?” came

a voice from her left.

She turned to see the large Sheriff

standing with his hands on his hips, just

outside his office.

“Sheriff, this is Seymour’s mom

apparently, and wants to see him.”

“Okay Arlene, I’ll handle this.

Mrs. Wood would you step into my office

please, and are these folks with you too?”

he asked, pointing to Marcus and Blanche.

“I don’t want no run around

Sheriff, I respect you, but you got my boy,

an innocent man locked up back there and

I want to see him.”

“You’ll be allowed all the access

you want but give me a minute to talk with

you,” he explained, keeping his cool,

understanding the plight of the angered

mother.

The group entered the office, each

taking a seat, but Mrs. Wood continued to

stand and pace the floor between Blanche

and Marcus. 'The Wolf' sat in his chair

and faced the three. Before he could start

Lillian peppered him with questions and

statements, her emotions boiling over as

she collapsed into a nearby chair,

sobbing, tears flowing freely down her

wrinkled face and dropping onto the blue

dress. Blanche immediately went to her,

knelt on the floor before her and offered

her hanky that she always kept in her

clutch. The tears were blotted away and

she mumbled into the hanky, talking to

herself more than the Sheriff.

“How can it be? How can they

have him in jail when he was with me? It

just can’t be,” she uttered.

“Mrs. Wood, what was that? He

was with you, where and when?” the

Sheriff said, pen in hand and taking notes.

“Seymour, he was with me

Saturday night. We spent the day rounding

up and stacking the hay bales. Didn’t get

done till pretty late, was dark when we

finished. I fixed us a late dinner, pork and

beans, and we watched a little TV before

we both went to bed. We were together all

night, he could not have shot that black

boy,” she explained.

“I see, is there anyone else that can

corroborate your story? Did anybody else

see you around 7:00 p.m.?”

“It's no story, it’s the God’s honest

truth.” She again began to sob.

Sheriff Lupo keyed the intercom on

his desk, “Arlene, will you have Officer

Guest take a statement from each of these

people here to see Seymour, and then let

them have access to him for no more than

an hour, thanks.”

"Mrs. Wood, I know you are under

a lot of stress, but you could help our

department immensely if you would allow

us to search your home and farm without

having to go to a judge for a warrant."

"Will it get my son out of here any

faster if I let you?" she said, wiping tears

away, Blanche still kneeling before her.

"If he's innocent, yes."

"Then get to work. What do I need

to sign?"

Young Deputy Guest had the

friends and family follow her to a

conference facility. She pulled two chairs

from the room, placed them in the

hallway, and invited Blanche and Mrs.

Wood to have a seat and wait while she

interviewed Marcus. Across the building,

Sheriff Lupo had Seymour brought to his

office for an interview. It was the first

time 'The Wolf' had seen the young man