Dead hunt, p.28
Dead Hunt, page 28
‘‘Public service. What the man did was sell teenage girls. He would have these extravagant parties for girls from orphanages and homes for delinquent girls. He would always have teenagers, nothing else, strictly teenagers. His official line was that they were harder to place than younger children and needed the extra help. Sometimes these parties would host parents looking for children to adopt. But you see, these prospective parents were really people shopping for slaves. They would pick out what they wanted, place the order with him, and he would fill it—with the help of some corrupt officials, of course. Sometimes the places he got the girls didn’t have the kind of girl somebody wanted, and local girls would disappear after some of these parties. Not right away—he knew that would attract attention—but in a few weeks or a few months. Sometimes it was a young tourist who would go missing. Officially, the parents were told their daughters drowned in the ocean or ran away. I know now that just about every one that went missing was kidnapped by my brother-in-law.
‘‘Like an idiot, when my husband told me what he discovered, I told my sister what Alain was doing. I told her she had to take her children and leave. She just laughed at me and said, ‘He wouldn’t sell his own children, silly.’ I just stared at her. I couldn’t believe she knew about it. I thought she misunderstood what I said. I said, ‘Jerusha, he’s selling the kids he’s supposed to be helping.’ She got that look she got when she disagreed with me. She would put her head down and glare at me. Then she told me if God had blessed these children, He wouldn’t have taken their parents. I couldn’t believe she said it. I didn’t know how to respond.
‘‘The next day, Alain came to my house. I remember it like yesterday. Ellen was fifteen. It was summer—1975. Ellen and her friend Laney had just got back from seeing Jaws. They were wearing shorts and sun tops, sitting in the grass talking and giggling. I was on the porch reading a magazine. Alain came up on the porch all friendly. He didn’t threaten or anything like that; he just looked over at the two of them and said how nubile Ellen and Laney were, how they were almost ready for plucking.
‘‘A chill went up my spine like I’ve never felt before. I couldn’t say anything. All I could do was sit there staring at him. He just turned and walked away. That evening my husband was late, and I was scared to death. Scared that they killed him. When he finally did come in, I told him we were leaving the Outer Banks, I didn’t care if we had to wash toilets or panhandle for the rest of our lives, I wasn’t staying here. He agreed to go and we moved to Tennessee. It was a good move. We did well there. Earl and me both found good jobs. After a while he opened his own office. I have never again to this day laid eyes on my sister,’’ said Sarah.
They all sat in silence for several moments. Carley looked at the thin, gold chain bracelet on her arm and back up at her grandmother. She put a hand over hers. It was Ellen who spoke first.
‘‘I remember moving that summer. I was so mad at you and Dad for taking me away from school and my friends. Why didn’t you tell me? I never understood why we up and moved with no warning.’’
‘‘You were just fifteen, Ellen. What was I going to tell you?’’ Sarah said. She looked at Diane and Kingsley. ‘‘You said a woman escaped from prison. Is this her?’’ She picked up the photograph and looked at it. ‘‘She looks kind of like my sister. Is she one of the triplets?’’
‘‘We believe it’s Iris,’’ said Diane.
‘‘You said she is a murderer?’’ she said.
‘‘She was convicted of murder in Georgia, sent to prison, and recently escaped,’’ said Kingsley. ‘‘We believe she was sold by her father when she was about fifteen. We think what she went through turned her into a serial killer.’’
The grandmother looked shocked. Frankly, Diane found it hard to believe that anything about her sister’s family would shock her at this point.
‘‘Poor little Iris.’’ She shook her head. ‘‘I told my sister. I told her. She wouldn’t listen. Stupid, stupid woman. They were the cutest little girls, just like three little peas in a pod.’’
‘‘Do you know what happened to any of the family?’’ asked Diane.
‘‘I never tried to find out. I never wanted to be in their crosshairs again. I was afraid to move back to this area, but Earl wanted to retire here and Ellen had married a boy from here. I just prayed they’d forgot about us and we would never run across them. We never have.’’
‘‘How old would Alain Delaflote be now?’’ asked Diane.
‘‘Let’s see, he was five years older than my sister; that would make him about sixty-five. Young enough to still be in business,’’ Sarah said. ‘‘Can you arrest him? I wouldn’t want him coming after Carley. She’s a little older than he likes, but...’’
‘‘We will certainly take a careful look at them,’’ said Kingsley. ‘‘We will not tell him you talked to us. We won’t mention you or your family.’’
‘‘Thank you for that,’’ Sarah said.
‘‘Do you know where they live?’’ asked Diane.
‘‘Like I said, I have never tried to find them. They used to live out on Mosshazel Island. Back when they moved out there it was the only privately owned island on the coast. You follow Highway 70 about thirty miles beyond Beaufort to a little village called Croker. They had their own private ferry used to run from there to the island. It might still be there. They had one of those big white-columned houses in the middle of the island. There was a little village on the island called East Croker. Not much to it.’’
Kingsley rose as if to leave. ‘‘Thank you for speaking with us,’’ he said. ‘‘I can see it wasn’t easy, but we really need to find Iris. We’ll investigate the whole Delaflote family and look into the lost children.’’
‘‘Do you think you can find any of them?’’ she asked.
There was so much hope in her eyes that Diane hated to say no, I doubt we have a chance in hell. She didn’t know what to say.
Kingsley spoke first. ‘‘I don’t know. But Iris escaped from her captors. There is always hope.’’
They left Carley’s house, thanking the three women and taking cookies Carley’s mother wrapped up for them.
‘‘Carley’s life changed today,’’ said Diane.
‘‘It did, didn’t it? I think things are better out in the open. At least now she knows to avoid anyone named Delaflote,’’ said Kingsley. ‘‘So, do you want to ride out to the island?’’
‘‘Not without backup,’’ said Diane. ‘‘Are you nuts?’’
Kingsley laughed. ‘‘I guess you’re right. It’s exciting to be so close. Let’s look for a motel near this place— what did she say, Croker? We’ll call the marshals. Maybe they’re finished with chasing their wild goose and will hurry out here.’’
Diane followed Highway 70 south to Morehead City and on to Beaufort. It was a little over fifty miles. She wanted to find a motel in Beaufort. According to her GPS maps it was the last large city they would pass near. But Kingsley wanted to get closer.
‘‘Why?’’ asked Diane. ‘‘We aren’t going over to the island. You heard what she said; you have to take a ferry. That means there’s no quick getaway in case of emergency.’’
‘‘I know, but there are other tourist towns beyond Beaufort. They will have motels,’’ said Kingsley.
Diane threw up her hands and agreed. Beaufort was a little more than an hour’s drive from New Bern. She drove about twelve miles beyond Beaufort. It wasn’t a straight drive. This part of North Carolina was a water world. They crossed large rivers and small creeks and passed through many small tourist towns.
Many places Diane would have liked to stop and just look at the scenery—the water, the boats, the ships. The low green landscape was less lush than the vegetation she was used to in Rosewood; the trees weren’t as tall. Nor was it as subtropical as the barrier islands of Georgia. It was beautiful away from the towns, very peaceful looking. She would have stopped to look, but she was tired from their long trip. Maybe they could find a good place to watch the sun set over the sound. Sunsets here were supposed to be pretty spectacular.
‘‘You can pull in at this convenience store ahead and we can stock up,’’ said Kingsley.
‘‘You don’t want to find a restaurant?’’ said Diane.
‘‘Not really. Do you? I’d rather just get some snacks and find a place to stay.’’
Diane filled up the gas tank while Kingsley went in for food. When the tank was full she moved the vehicle to the side of the store and went in to pay. Kingsley had two bags full of food—junk food, from the glimpse she caught of the contents of one of his bags.
‘‘I got us some of those dip dogs,’’ he said.
‘‘Some what?’’ said Diane.
‘‘Corn dogs, you may call them,’’ he said, grinning as he went out the door.
There were few people in the small store, so Diane was able to pay quickly and grab a Coke and a bag of peanuts. She paid for the gas and snacks and slipped the peanuts in her pocket.
She walked out to the SUV and fingered the UNLOCK button on the key chain. A bottle of water rolled from behind the SUV and bumped into her foot. She turned to look and everything went black.
Chapter 48
Diane heard a groan coming through the pain and fog in her head.
‘‘What the hell?’’ It was Kingsley.
She opened her eyes and tried to move. Her hands were bound behind her back and her ankles were tied together. She stayed still a moment and breathed deeply, assessing her situation.
They were in the rear compartment of a minivan with its backseats stripped out. It was new by the look of it. The windows were dark but she could see out the front. It was still daylight. The driver was young. She could see his cheek and his blond hair. The kid. The one who drugged them at the restaurant and the one who was renting an apartment in her building. It had to be him. Hell, has he been following us— from Rosewood?
She looked at Kingsley. He was equally bound and apparently equally dazed. Their eyes met and Diane motioned with hers for him to look at the driver.
Kingsley glanced over his shoulder at the kid and looked back at Diane.
‘‘Is he...?Kingsley whispered.
Diane nodded. ‘‘Bobby Banks? I think so.’’ ‘‘Hey, kid,’’ said Kingsley. ‘‘Have you been following us? You’re really good. I didn’t see you and I’m pretty good at spotting a tail.’’
‘‘Just keep quiet,’’ the kid said.
‘‘Where are we going?’’ said Kingsley.
‘‘Don’t make me mad,’’ he said.
While they spoke, Diane tugged at the ropes that held her. Kingsley was doing the same. They were tight but Diane thought if she tried she could bring her arms down and around her butt and legs to get her hands in front of her. As quietly as she could, she wiggled and maneuvered until her hands were in front where she could reach the rope with her teeth.
Kingsley was trying to do the same but with less success. He wasn’t quite as flexible or as slim as Diane. She was almost loose when the van stopped abruptly. The kid looked around, then grabbed something beside his seat and rushed back. Kingsley tripped him with his feet and the kid went flying on top of him.
‘‘You bastard,’’ the kid screamed. He had a temper.
Diane reached around to grab his neck, trying to pull him off. Suddenly there was a loud pop, and a cry came from Kingsley.
Diane pulled at the kid. He whipped around and punched her hard on the side of her head.
‘‘See what you made me do?’’
Diane tried to shake the stars out of her head. She looked over at Kingsley and called to him. She could see blood on his shirt inside his coat. He was shot somewhere in the upper left chest, near the shoulder. She glanced at the gun in the kid’s hand. It wasn’t Kingsley’s gun, which the kid surely had taken from him. It was a small caliber; that was good. With Kingsley’s gun the wound would have been so much worse.
‘‘I need to see about him,’’ said Diane.
‘‘Well, see about him. You did this. I didn’t.’’ He went back up to the front. ‘‘I’m watching you. I can see you in the mirror. If you try anything funny again, I’ll pop you,’’ he said. He made the motion of shooting her with the gun in his hand before he turned around and put the van in gear and stepped on the gas.
Suddenly the van rocked back and forth. Diane could see they were driving onto the back of a ferry. They were going to cross the water. Great. Kingsley was shot and now they were really cut off.
‘‘I have to drive the ferry, but I can see you. If you try to move out of the van, I’ll pop you good. Bambam-bam.’’
He hadn’t retied Diane’s hands behind her. She was grateful for that. He felt cocky and secure because he had shot someone, she thought. Maybe that was good.
The van rocked again but more gently as the ferry started out over the water. Her head throbbed and she felt sick.
Just focus.
Her hands were still tied, but with them in front she could at least look after Kingsley. She squirmed her way to him, bound as she was, and opened his coat and shirt to look at the wound. It was bleeding freely.
‘‘Can you turn and let me see the exit wound?’’ she said.
Even with both of them trying, she couldn’t get his coat moved so that she could see the wound.
‘‘I think it’s a through shot,’’ she said to him. ‘‘From the placement, I don’t think it hit your shoulder girdle,’’ she said. ‘‘Wiggle your fingers.’’
She watched as he obeyed her.
‘‘Can you move your shoulder?’’ she asked.
He shrugged and moved it back and forth. ‘‘Hurts like hell,’’ he said.
‘‘Doesn’t seem to have broken any bones,’’ she said. ‘‘That’s good.’’
She felt a wave of nausea sweep over her.
‘‘You sick?’’ he whispered.
‘‘I’m fine. How about you?’’ she asked.
‘‘I’m a good sailor,’’ he said. ‘‘No nausea. Just a bullet hole in me. I’m sorry . . . we should have stayed in Beaufort.’’
‘‘I’m not sure what happened. Was he following us all this time?’’ she asked.
‘‘I don’t know,’’ he said.
She needed to bandage his wound. What with? She would use her jacket, but she couldn’t get it off. She looked around the van. There were plastic grocery sacks. She emptied them onto the floor. Nothing useful, no paper towels, just cakes, nuts and fruit. Just the snacks. Okay. She stuffed the nuts and a couple of bananas in her pocket.
It was then she realized she felt her cell phone in the front inside pocket of her jacket. Why didn’t he take it? He must have felt for weapons and would know it was there. He took Kingsley’s Beretta. Why didn’t he take the phone? Because he didn’t need to. No towers, no signal—no service.
She had an idea about the phone. Not one that would get them out of the immediate situation, but one that might help in the long run.
Okay, think. She ignored the throbbing in her head and the queasiness of her stomach and tried to look at all the resources they had.
‘‘How do you feel?’’ she asked.
‘‘All right, considering,’’ he said, smiling.
She scrambled down to his feet and took off his shoes and socks. She took the time to put the shoes back on before she continued. She didn’t want to take the chance that the kid would suddenly decide to dump them somewhere and Kingsley would be without shoes.
‘‘What are you doing?’’ Kingsley whispered.
‘‘Your socks are the only thing I can get at right now to dress your wound,’’ she said.
‘‘You know, I don’t really like the sound of that,’’ he said. ‘‘My socks?’’
Diane smiled briefly. At least he was alert and not focused too much on pain. She thought it was a good sign. She folded one of the socks and put it next to the wound. She folded the other one.
‘‘I’m going to have to try and scoot my hands up your jacket and shirt to put this in place,’’ she said. She rolled him over.
I’m an idiot, she thought. Letting myself get in a situation like this. I should have my PhD revoked. Then, Keep alert. Forget about the pain in your head. While he was on his stomach, she untied his ropes.
‘‘I’m watching you,’’ said the kid.
She looked up front. He had popped his head inside the window and was pointing a gun at her.
Diane froze. ‘‘I know,’’ she said with all the calm she could muster, ‘‘but I have to dress his wounds. He’s too injured to do anything. If he dies, you are going to be in a great deal of trouble. I think you know that. And I am still tied up and you still have two guns.’’
‘‘Tie him back up when you finish. If you don’t, I’ll shoot you too. Then where will you be? I’ll tell you where, in the water, that’s where, feeding the fishes.’’ He laughed as if he had just told a terribly funny joke.
‘‘I understand. Just let me tend his wound and I’ll tie him back up,’’ she said. God, he’s a little maniac, unpredictable and with a temper, thought Diane. Her hands shook as she reached for Kingsley’s jacket. Stay calm, stay calm, stay calm, she kept telling herself.
‘‘You’d better. Remember, I’m watching,’’ he said, grinning at her and pretended to shoot, mimicking an explosion noise before he disappeared from the window.
The ferry rocked back and forth on the water and Diane felt sick. She concentrated on breathing evenly.
Kingsley helped her take off his jacket and shirt, wincing at the effort. Blood was running from the entrance and exit wounds, but they were small and Kingsley could move his arms and shoulders. It was painful, but it was possible. She used strips of his shirt to fashion bandages. She put his jacket back on. She untied and retied his feet, then she tied his hands in front of him.
‘‘I’ve tucked the end of the rope under the loops here where it’s hidden,’’ she said, her mouth close to his ear. ‘‘If he checks your hands, he’ll see that the ropes are tight. But if you pull on this loop here, free the rope and pull on it, it will come undone,’’ she whispered.
