A Thousand Lies (4 page)

Linny giggled, then scooped up the crackers in her spoon and popped them into her mouth, making a big deal out of the crunching sound.

Brendan sat quietly, watching the interaction between the women, and knew his instinct about Julie had been spot on. She fit into the family. If Anson didn’t exist, life would be pretty close to perfect.

After they’d finished eating, Julie took Linny into the kitchen to help clean up, leaving Brendan alone with his mother.

“If we stay here, we’re going to need some things from home,” Delle said.

“I know. I’ll take Belinda with me to help get what you need.”

Delle frowned. “I don’t want her to go back there without me. I’m afraid your daddy will take his anger out on her.”

Brendan leaned forward. “Mama. Look at me.”

Delle lifted her gaze.

“I’m bigger than Dad. I’m stronger than Dad. And I will take a gun. Does that ease your concerns?”

She leaned back against the pillows and closed her eyes, staying silent for several long moments. When she finally looked up, there were tears in her eyes.

“I am so sorry.”

Brendan frowned. “
You
have nothing to be sorry about. I’ll get some paper. Make a list of what you want us to get. Sam and Chance will most likely still be there. They wouldn’t let Anson pull any shit, okay?”

“Yes. Okay.”

“Get my phone while you’re there,” she added. “It’s just inside the cabinet door next to the sink.”

Brendan laughed. “That’s a weird place to keep a phone, Mama.”

She shrugged. “I don’t have a pocket in this dress and I like to keep it close by while I work.”

Brendan thought that was odd and looked up, but when she wouldn’t meet his gaze, it took him a few moments to realize she was afraid of her own husband. He didn’t know what to think. His parents had always fought, but he’d never thought of his mother being afraid.

“Do you have a gun in the house, too?” he asked.

“No. Your daddy keeps all the guns.”

He frowned. “I’ll go get that paper and pen.”

Delle said a quick prayer. Her precariously balanced world was finally coming undone.

****

Julie offered to stay at the apartment until they got back. Linny was as scared of going back as her mother was for her to leave. She sat in the front seat as they drove away, her knees pulled up beneath her chin, trying to make herself as small as possible.

Brendan knew it was a defense mechanism for staying out of trouble. The smaller you are, the less likely it is that anyone will see you. He wondered how often she did that at home.

She hadn’t said two words since they left New Orleans and was staring out the window at the passing scenery while picking at her cuticles in quiet agitation. She finally broke the silence, Brendan got why she’d been so quiet.

“Will Daddy still be mad?”

“Honey, Anson is always mad about something, remember?”

Linny sighed. “You’re right. He is, isn’t he?” She got quiet all over again, and then she cast a sideways glance at her brother. “If I tell you something, you won’t tell Daddy, will you?”

“I haven’t told him anything but ‘Go to hell’ in so long that we have nothing to talk about. Of course I won’t tell.”

She unfolded her legs and put her feet down in the floorboard as if bracing herself to confess.

“I have a secret place in the swamp where I play. When I’m there, I am Queen Belinda and my subjects are the critters who live there. I call you Sir Brendan. Mama is Lady Delle, and Daddy is the Evil Overlord.”

Brendan grinned. “You got that last part right.”

She giggled again. “Don’t tell. He would be really mad.”

“I cross my heart and hope to die,” Brendan said solemnly and made the sign of a cross over his heart.

She nodded, satisfied with the pledge.

“What do you call Sam and Chance?” he asked.

“Big Samuel, the blacksmith, makes the armor you wear, and Chance is the court jester.”

He was a little surprised at how she had segregated the members of her own family into these odd caricatures of themselves and how spot-on she was with her perceptions. He watched the changing expressions on her face with a mixture of curiosity and regret. They’d all been born into a tough family, but somehow it seemed worse for a girl.

“Are you lonesome, Linny?”

She frowned. “What do you mean?”

“You never get to play with other little girls. You don’t have sleepovers or best friends, or anything like that, do you?”

She shrugged. “Mama says it wouldn’t be safe.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Sometimes I’m sorry, too,” she said, then sank back into the seat. She pulled her knees up beneath her chin again, an unintentional “tell” of the urge to hide.

Brendan frowned. “Life will get better for you. I’ll make sure of that.”

She reached across the seat and patted his arm. “I sure do love you, Bren.”

“I love you, too, baby girl,” Brendan said and swallowed past the lump in his throat.

A few minutes later, he turned off the road into the driveway, bracing himself for the confrontation that was bound to come. When they parked at the house, he got his handgun out of the console and loaded it.

Linny’s eyes widened. “What’s that for?”

“Just in case. Let’s go,” he said and tucked it into the waistband at the back of his jeans.

Their exit from an air-conditioned vehicle into the Louisiana heat was palpable. Brendan paused, eyeing the house in which he’d grown up and the land around it.

Except for that massive grove of bamboo, it was typical Louisiana low country, a density of growth thick enough to hide anything living or dead, and water in abundance almost anywhere within walking distance. Even the ground on which he was standing held water as close to the surface as a mother holds her babe to her bosom. It was an old place, full of centuries of secrets and betrayals—deaths and lies.

He couldn’t help but wonder how many thousands of lies had been told under the roof of that house. Some of no consequence, surely—while others were vile enough to change the course of a man’s life. One thing was for certain, the man of this house was nothing but a liar, capable of a thousand lies all on his own.

“Is everything okay, Bren?”

He shook off the weight of the centuries and reached for her hand. “Everything is fine, sugar. Let’s get this over with and get back to your mama.”

****

The clear sky that had come with daybreak was swiftly disappearing behind the building storm clouds as Sam and Chance continued loading the bales of pot into Wes Riordan’s motor home. From the outside, the motor home looked like a retiree’s dream straight off of a KOA campground. Riordan had even gone so far as to have a bike rack mounted on the back with dual bicycles chained in place. The driver, a man named Marty, looked like someone’s grandfather in a floral Hawaiian shirt, cotton shorts, and a little golf hat covering his bald head.

But the motor home was no retiree dream. It was gutted down to the floor and walls, and the windows were darkly tinted. He added packing straps and rubberized treading to keep pallets of marijuana from sliding; leaving just enough room for Wes and Thorpe, his hired gun, to ride guard inside.

Riordan was a tall man with a non-descript face. While he could do nothing about his height, he dressed down to stay under the radar of normal curiosity. Not a lot of people even knew he existed, which was intentional.

Anson Poe was one of the few he did business with personally. So far, their association worked. Poe grew good stuff in large quantity, but today was the first time Wes had come to pick up a load in daylight, and Riordan was more than a little antsy. He stepped outside to check the weather, then glanced down at his watch. It was nearly 2:30. He needed to be out of here before the storm front blew in, or he’d miss his connection farther down the line.

“Hurry the hell up, you two!” Wes snapped, aiming his complaints at Sam and Chance.

Anson frowned at his sons. He needed to keep his best customer happy and added his voice to the urgency.

“Get a move on, damn it! The sky’s about to unload and he should’ve been gone ten minutes ago.”

“Yes, Daddy,” Sam said, as he and Chance kept carrying bale after bale of marijuana up from the room beneath the shed.

Thunder rumbled in the distance.

“Damn it! Someone’s coming and it better not be the cops,” Wes muttered, as the rumble of an engine was suddenly heard over the dissipating thunder.

Anson glanced out and recognized the car.

“I pay plenty to make sure I am not bothered by the parish police. Besides, that’s my youngest son’s car. He and my girl took my old lady to the doctor this morning. She spilled hot coffee on her bare feet. They’re probably just bringing her home.”

“I didn’t know you had another son,” Wes said.

“Well, I do. We don’t like each other much, but he’s mine.”

“What about all this?” Wes asked, gesturing toward the bales of pot.

“What about it? He knows what I grow.”

“Well, alright then,” Wes said. Wes watched them pull up to the house, then glanced over his shoulder. Only a couple more minutes and he’d be out of here. He looked back, eyeing the tall, dark-haired man and the young girl who got out, then gave the girl a second look. Watching her walk was like watching silk blowing in a breeze—all smooth and fluid, without a jerk to her step.

“That is one fine-looking girl you’ve got there,” he said softly.

Anson looked up toward the house, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully.

“Yeah, she takes after me.”

Wes’s eyes narrowed as he watched her disappear inside.

“Damn shame she’s your kin. She’d bring a good hundred thousand on the open market.”

Anson didn’t know whether to be pissed the man had pretty much offered to buy his daughter or stunned at the money she was worth.

“She’s only nine.”

“The ones I know like ‘em young.”

Anson turned around and pointed a finger under Wes’s nose. “We’re done talking about this now.”

Wes backed off and held up his hands. “No offense meant. Just talking about stuff I know, that’s all.”

“We’re done here, Daddy,” Sam said.

“About time,” Wes muttered, eyeing the sweat-stained shirt and the size of Samuel Poe’s chest. He was one big son of a bitch. “Say, boy, if you ever want to move up in the world, there’s a place for you in my crew.”

Sam looked up. “Are you talking to me?”

Wes nodded.

Still pissed by what he’d overheard Riordan say about Linny, Sam answered shortly. “Not interested,” he said and walked out of the packing shed with Chance right behind him.

Anson was more concerned that Wes had offered Sam a job than he had been by his half-hearted comment about buying Belinda.

“Damn it, Riordan. First, you eyeball my girl, and now you try to steal my son out from under me. It’s time for you to get the hell on down the road.”

Wes grinned as he handed over the money. “Nice doing business with you, Poe. We’ll be in touch.”

The trio climbed inside the motor home and drove away as Anson settled his hat down on his head, grabbed the grocery sack full of hundred dollar bills, and headed toward the house.

****

Brendan pulled an old duffle bag from the closet and, with Linny’s help, began gathering up the clothes on Delle’s list.

“Where does Mama keep her underwear?”

“In there,” she said, pointing to a dresser near the closet.

“Count out eight of each and put them in the bag, okay?”

She was counting them out into her arms when they both heard footsteps coming up the stairs.

“It’s Daddy!” she whispered and threw the underwear in the bag, then stood behind Brendan.

“It’s okay, honey. I hear your brothers talking. They’re here, too.”

She shivered. “He’s gonna be mad.”

“Well, he’s gonna have to just get himself glad because he only has himself to blame.”

She ran back to the dresser and scooted down between it and the corner wall.

Brendan was stunned. He had no idea she was this afraid. “Damn it, Belinda, I won’t let him hurt you.”

“I know,” she whispered. “I just don’t want to see his face. His mean face scares me.”

Before he could say more, his brothers walked in.

Sam looked toward the bed, expecting to see his mother there. “Hey, Bren, where’s Mama and Linny?”

He pointed in the corner. “There’s your baby sister, hiding in a corner, scared to death of her own damned father. Mama is at my place, and they’re both staying with me until she can walk again.”

Sam went to the corner. “Come here, little girl. Daddy’s not gonna hurt you,” he said softly. He pulled Linny out from behind the dresser, sat down on the bed, and plopped her down beside him.

Chance was still trying to process what Brendan just said. “She can’t walk? Why the hell not?”

“First-degree burns on the bottoms of her feet. Second-degree burns on the tops and between her toes.”

“Bren carried Mama to the bathroom,” Linny said softly.

Sam frowned. “This didn’t need to happen.”

“But it did, and we all know why,” Brendan said.

Another set of footsteps was coming up the stairs. Anson was on the way.

“He’s not gonna like this,” Sam said as Linny positioned herself behind him.

“As if I give a fuck,” Brendan said and then he pointed at Linny. “Mama wants her pink nightgown. Can you find that?”

Linny ducked into the closet just as Anson walked into the room.

Like the boys, he’d expected to see Delle laid out on the bed, not a half-packed duffle bag. He eyed his sons’ expressions, and he knew they were pissed at him, but he didn’t care. It wasn’t the first time, and it most likely wouldn’t be the last. At six feet two inches, he was an imposing sight, especially when he was mad, and right now, he was furious.

“Where’s Delle? Where’s my wife?”

“She’s staying with me,” Brendan said. “And so’s Linny.”

Anson eyed Sam and Chance’s expressions. Brendan had just usurped his power, not only by defying him, but taking his wife and daughter away. It was time to remind them all he was still boss.