One Blood

Chapter Forty

Coral had one foot out the door of the shed. She didn’t want to hear what her father was telling her. She wanted out of here. She wanted Mommy.

“Spirits wouldn’t leave him be. They drove him to it. Tried to kill himself, he did. Lincoln stopped’m. Spirits didn’t like that. They wanted him so they used Randy to get him.”

Wood fell to both sides of the workbench in a torrent as her father twisted and turned the log in his big, calloused hands. It was starting to take shape.

“They want Karen, too. It’s her turn.”

“How do I stop it?” Coral screamed, an adult voice emanating from her child’s frame.

Her father carved on, then suddenly went rigid. “All done,” he whispered. “Beautiful.” He spun around in the chair.

Coral looked up into her father’s face and found Kristopher gazing down on her. She screamed.

“I want you, Mommy,” he said, grinning. “I want you and Daddy.” Kristopher grabbed the carving off the table and showed it to his child mother. He dangled the severed head of a bald, black man in front of her. The eyes bulged, the nose snorted, and a long, pink tongue lolled from blue lips.

Coral couldn’t stop screaming.

“Go ahead. Scream all you want. No one is coming.”

Coral opened her eyes. Shaw Roberts sat on a stool across from her, watching some morning game show on an old 1970s era TV. It took her a moment to regroup, but then she remembered where she was. Here Today, Gone Tomorrow.

“Bad dream?”

Coral looked away. Her nose was running. She touched one nostril tenderly and gasped when she saw red blood superimposed on the pale skin of her finger.

The dream was fading. It had felt so real.

Coral could smell the remnants of the chloroform he’d used to subdue her. She was bound to a chair. A wave of despair washed over her.

 “You can ignore me now,” Shaw said. “But you’d better get used to talking to me. I’m the only friend you got.”

“What are you talking about? You’re just a no count thug-for-hire under your brother’s thumb.” Her words surprised her.

Shaw stood and glared menacingly. “What did you just say?”

“You heard me. What’s your cut? Or are you just the fall guy?” She shook her head in disgust. “You’re just too dumb to see what you’ve gotten yourself into.”

The back of Shaw’s hand connected with the side of her face. Coral’s head rocked; she saw stars. Fresh blood bloomed on her busted lower lip.

“Told you to watch your mouth.” Shaw stomped out of the room.

Gotcha.

Coral closed her eyes and let her head clear. Once her ears stopped ringing she caught the television announcer saying, “We interrupt our coverage of Hurricane Isaac to bring you a Fox 29 News Breaking Story.”

Footage rolled of Lincoln Baker’s release from Angola.

A connection fired deep in her synapses as she watched her son’s killer walk to his freedom.

How did he get free?

Randy. Pardon. Karen. Kidnapping. Kristopher. Murder. My. Fault.

The words chased themselves through her subconscious, until she finally put it together. Randy lied to her about Karen because he hadn’t thought she could handle the truth. He’d been right to lie.

What kind of partner am I? What kind of mother?

Coral had been passive for too long. Prayer and meditation, solutions she’d preached in her book, would not get her very far in this situation. For the first time since the day before her son’s murder, Coral was wide awake.