Lucifer Travels-Book #1 in the suspense, mystery thriller Page 18

I went into the living room. My mother was sitting at the dining room table. She had again made tea and biscuits. I helped myself to some. Together, we ate peacefully, talking about everything except Caroline. She had lost her place at that table—not because she was no longer loved, but because it was too painful. For once, I’d like to smile candidly, without guilt. I wanted that for not only me, but my mother as well.

  She had grown so tired and weak. I often wondered how long she could take it. I think maybe just a smile on her face would’ve saved her. Her heart was in pieces and all the small talk in the world couldn’t mend her. She was an empty vessel and our fragile souls that seemed to have been woven from glass stones would soon take another hit.

  Someone knocked on the door. Sheriff Hollis stood on our stoop.

  As my mother opened the door, he greeted her with honest apologies, thanking her for courage and faith, while commenting about how “that nigger will fry.”

  Though I hate to admit it, she took comfort in his words. I could see it in her eyes. But that was just the times we were in.

  “Thank you,” she said as they softly embraced.

  “Anytime, darling. Anything.”

  He then greeted me. “How are ya, Danny boy?”

  “I’m fine, thank you.”

  “That’s good. Real good.” He paused for a moment, not wanting to talk around my mother. “Can I speak to you outside, Danny?”

  I looked at my mother. And she of course, looked back in affirmation. Weary and listless, I dropped my fork causing this louder than normal clinging sound as it hit the glass plate. “Sure. We can talk,” I replied.

  He walked outside and I followed. I stopped on the porch steps, thinking we would talk there. But he kept walking until he reached his car and told me to get in. “Let’s go for a ride.”

  “Where?”

  “There’s something you gotta see.”

  I climbed into the car as he started it. We drove seemingly forever, on this long dirt road.

  “Here we are.” He stopped in an old depleted neighborhood on the other side of town.

  “Where’s here?” I asked.

  He pointed across the way. “You see that lil’ ol colored woman sitting on that porch over there?”

  “Yeah, I see her. So what?”

  “I think she’s someone you might wanna talk to.”

  “Why would I wanna do that?”

  “She knows something about your boy.”

  “What boy?”

  “The nigger...I mean, the colored fella!”

  “C.J? She knows him?”

  “Yeah. They’re kin.”

  “But wait. Why are you helping me? You think he’s guilty!”

  He stared through the car window and looked away into the abyss. “I do and I’m not helping. I just thought you’d wanna talk to everyone you could. So, we’re here. Now go on, I’ll be right here when you get back.”

  I hesitated.

  “Go on, boy!”

  “Okay. Okay.” I got out of the car and walked up to what struggled to be a house. But it didn’t look like a home, at least not the ones I’m used to. It was small and dreary. The dirty paint seemed more grey than the metal fence that surrounded it. I walked through this tall bed of meadows that carried everything inside it along with these dingy yellow wildflowers thinking that no beauty could come from this.

  To the right of me sat two infant children as happy as they could be, playing inside that very place, unbothered by the filth and muck that consumed it. I believed it to be a sign from God.

  As I reached the steps of the house, the woman, startled and inquisitive, rose to her feet. “Excuse me! May I help you with something?”

  “Yes, I’m here about C.J.”

  “Oh God!” she screamed as she covered her mouth with her hands. Her knees buckled.

  “What happened? What did they do to him?!”

  “No. Nothing, he’s fine!”

  “C.J’s okay?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I just had some questions pertaining to his case.”

  “You with the sheriff’s department?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  “You one a them reporters looking for a story? I told ya, I ain’t got nothing to say!”

  “No, ma’am. I’m not a reporter. My name is Daniel. I’m just a concerned citizen is all.”

  “Now why on earth would you give a hoot about a nigga who ain’t got nothing to do with you?”

  “The girl... She was my sister.”

  Her boisterous tone changed as she looked away, free of disdain, but with ire and pity.

  “He ain’t kilt that girl.”

  “I know he didn’t.”

  “How?”

  “The same way you do.” She teared up and folded her arms, trying to keep composure. She whispered something, though I’m not sure if it was to me or to God. I didn’t ask. I just looked away. I had seen enough tears for a century.

  “Would you like to come inside?”

  “Yes. If isn’t too much trouble.”

  “No. Come on in.”

  She led me past the front door where I was greeted by a setting that was a departure from the common order of things. Everything was composed. The smell was graceful and washed, and the lights were dimmed aptly. Not too dark and not too bright.

  She directed me to sit on the sofa a few feet across from her. She sat, then quickly stood back up. “Can I get you something? Tea maybe? Or would you like some coffee?”

  “That’s very kind. But, no thank you.”

  She finally sat. “So what can I do for you?”

  “I was told that you would have some information about C.J.”

  “You were told that?”

  “Yes. Sheriff Hollis brought me.”

  “Sheriff Hollis? The same sheriff who arrested him in the first place?!”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Now why would he go and do a fool thing like that? He don’t give a damn about no C.J!”

  “Ma’am, all I know is that not too long ago, my sister was here. Now she’s not. And I can’t ever bring her back. But maybe, just maybe, I can help an innocent man get his freedom.”

  “I told the sheriff what I knew more times than I can count. But that ain’t the truth they wanna hear.”

  “Well, tell me!”

  “What’s the point? What can you do? There ain’t no point in telling you!”

  “Ma’am, what do you have to lose?”

  “My time!”

  “The way I see it is, time is the one thing you do have.” But C.J…well, his time is quickly running out. All he can do is wait quietly for some dejected fella to flip a switch and plunge 2000 volts of electricity through his veins. If you can live with that, then it’s fine. So be it! But I can’t. So I’m asking you, I’m begging you! Help me!”

  She looked away to assemble her thoughts. Her face was blank, but chock full of guilt from transgressions not her own. “That day. CJ had been out all night. He came in late.”

  “Around what time?”

  “I’m not sure, but it was after midnight. He dashed through the front door in a panic, draped in sweat and covered in mud. When I asked what was wrong, he just kept repeating the same thing over and over. He said...He said, ‘they took her’.”

  “Took who?! Caroline?! They took Caroline?!”

  “I don’t know! I asked who he was talking about. But he never brought it up again.”

  “He never mentioned anything like that to me...not once.”

  “That’s just CJ being him. I bet if I asked him right now, he’d tell me to my face that he never said it. But he did. I saw his eyes that night. I ain’t never seen him like that for as long as I’ve known him. He was a proud man. A strong one. He ain’t never took shit from nobody. But that night, I saw him. And he was afraid!”

  “What do you think caused him to be afraid?”

  “I don’t know. But I know he ain’t killed that girl. I know he didn’t.”

 
She was convinced and staunch in her conviction with little to hold her steady. For the first time, I had met someone who believed in his innocence as much as I did.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Someone to Devour