Sinner Read online

  “You saw what we could do last night.”

  “If you can do in a group, under pressure, what you did last night . . .” He stopped there.

  “We can take over the world,” she finished.

  Kinnard smiled.“Maybe not, but you get the picture.”

  They landed at nine and drove in an armored FBI Cadillac to the vicinity of Union Cemetery, just offWarwick Trafficway, two miles south of city central. The street was blockaded by several police cruisers, but onlookers were crossing into the large cemetery from the perimeter. Streams of people walked or ran toward a grove at the center of the burial grounds.

  Lawhead swore and made a quick call on his cell.He snapped the phone closed.An officer who was trying his best to keep the road clear for authorized traffic waved them through the barricade.

  “How long have they had the scene secured?” Billy asked.

  “The bodies were discovered by a jogger at six thirty this morning. We were on-site with the local authorities shortly after. The crime scene is secured, but the cemetery is open access. They can’t secure the whole thing.”

  The hanging had occurred among a group of large trees at the heart of the cemetery. Darcy saw the ropes hanging from two adjacent trees before they crossed the yellow tape that cordoned off the crime scene. Federal Bureau of Investigation—Crime Scene—Do Not Cross.

  Two dangling ropes with nooses at the ends of each. The thick fiber ropes were twisted around themselves atop eighteen-inch loops, which were stained dark brown with blood. Her stomach turned.Whoever was behind this had chosen one of the most offensive symbols in American history to elicit precisely this kind of reaction. It was all far too sick for her tastes.

  And as for those gathered . . . Gazing around, she wondered why they weren’t rioting already.

  “You really think it’s wise to keep those up?” she asked. “Everyone can see the ropes. Even from the perimeter.”

  “Follow me,” Lawhead said. He climbed from the car and walked to a white tent. Darcy and Billy followed with Kinnard, wearing glasses.

  The two bodies had been laid out on white evidence mats in the center of the tent. A porous mesh cloth was tented over the bodies of each. A black woman in a purple dress who looked to be in her early twenties, and an older man who could have been her father. Their faces were bloated, eyes open, mouths gaping. Ropeburned wrists, bloodshot stares.

  Darcy turned away, nauseated. She took one look around the tent, saw that the crime scene investigators had the situation covered, and stepped back outside.

  A thousand stares met hers. People lined the perimeter, twenty, maybe thirty deep, set back fifty yards from the tent. If they weren’t staring at her, they were looking up at the ropes. An eerie quiet gripped them all.

  “You okay?” Billy took her elbow.

  “Not really, no. I don’t belong here.”

  “I know how you feel.”

  A fire truck was extending its ladder to remove the ropes.

  “What kind of monster would do this?”

  “The same kind of monster who was in your house two nights ago,” Billy said.

  Her head spun with the memory of the long night. So much had hap-pened in such a short space of time. It was hard for her to wrap her mind around it all.

  “Trust me, the world is full of people who would just as soon hang their neighbors as put up with them. I should know. I made my living defending some of those people.”

  Kinnard emerged from the tent with Lawhead. “You two okay?”

  “Darcy was just making a good point,” Billy said. “Remind us again exactly what it is you want us to do here.”

  Lawhead scanned the onlookers at the perimeter. “More than likely he’s out there now, watching.”His eyes settled on Billy.“You’re looking for a white male, middle-aged.”

  Kinnard and Lawhead looked at him like scientists studying a new specimen. They both had worn glasses for the duration of the flight, unwilling to subject themselves to whatever forces probed Annie Ruling at the council meeting.

  “You sure you’re up to this?”Kinnard asked. “It’s entirely up to you, as agreed. You say the word and we’re gone.”

  “What about Darcy?” Billy asked.

  “You’re welcome to join us,” Kinnard said to her.

  Billy nodded. Plucked off his glasses, baring his green eyes. “Wait here for Darcy and me.”

  “No,”Kinnard said. “I go with you. And I don’t want you any closer to the perimeter than ten feet.”

  Yes, of course, their protector.

  “Isn’t this a bit dangerous? Seeing as there are people who might want us dead?”

  “No one could possibly know you’re here.Washington would be a different matter. Ready?”

  “Go ahead,” Lawhead said. “I have a call. I’ll catch up with you.”

  Darcy followed Billy and Kinnard toward the perimeter, feeling even more out of sorts than she had earlier. Not because she was useless here, although she certainly felt like a third leg, but because they were now part of the spectacle. Three white goons walking around inside the perimeter, returning the stares of those gathered with hate in their hearts.

  And she was the straggler, dressed like some kind of hippie behind the clean-cut attorney with his armed guard.

  “Anything?” Kinnard asked.

  Billy grunted and walked on, scanning the crowd, slowing at each white face. Darcy nearly turned and cut back for the tent several times but reminded herself there was nothing in the tent that was her business either.

  “Anything?” Kinnard was impatient.

  “Plenty. Frankly I’m not sure how much of this I can take.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning you have a problem here,my friend. Somebody better start talking to these people about why . . .” He stopped and stared at a man who held a noose in his right hand, twirling it in small circles, eyes fixed on them.

  “You okay?” Kinnard asked.

  Billy walked on. “Fine.”

  Darcy turned and headed back toward the tent. “I’ll see you when you finish.”

  She stood by one of the ambulances and watched as Billy and Kinnard slowly made their full circuit before regrouping at the tent with Lawhead.

  “Well?” the FBI man asked.

  Billy slid his glasses over glazed eyes, hands trembling.He looked back at the crowd, as if testing the waters to see if the glasses were protecting him from their thoughts.

  “Billy? You okay, son?”

  “I’m fine.”

  But he wasn’t, she thought.

  “What did you get?” Lawhead pushed.

  “More than I bargained for. How long are we going to be here?”

  “They’ll keep the scene secured for a few days. The heavy lifting will be done in a few hours. No reason to believe he’s out there?”

  “No. If he’s out there, he’s either not thinking about the crime or our eyes didn’t meet.”

  “So it’s working, then,” Kinnard said.

  “Working, yes.”

  Lawhead took Billy’s elbow. “That’s good. But before you go again, I want you to make a sweep inside the tent.”

  “Again?”

  “You know as well as I do there’s a good chance he’s close by. You know how explosive the situation could get. Please, if there’s even a small chance you can expose him . . .”

  Billy hesitated. “Once more. That’s all I think I can handle.”

  * * *

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  * * *

  DARCY DIDN’T think she was up to hanging out with two dead bodies or she would have followed them in. But she wasn’t up to being the object of so many stares either.

  She found her predicament positively absurd! Enraging even.

  Without allowing herself another moment’s hesitation, Darcy headed for the gap in the perimeter where two police cars controlled access to the crime scene.

  She strode up to the barricade where an officer stepped in
her path.

  “May I help you?”

  “Yes, you can let me through. I need to get some air.”

  “I understand. Maybe I could get you an escort.”

  “No, I don’t want an escort. I’m fine, these people have nothing against me.”

  “I really think you should wait for an escort, ma’am.”

  Darcy pulled off her glasses and stared him in the eyes. “You have no authority to keep me here. Let me pass.”

  He blinked. Twice. Then he stepped aside. “Of course, ma’am.”

  “If they ask, tell them I’m waiting in the trees over there.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She stepped past him,wondering if she’d really done that. Of course she had! The power she held in this new voice of hers was a bit stunning. She put her glasses back on and headed for the public restrooms, eyes fixed ahead, refusing to be intimidated by a dozen angry stares.

  There was no way she could know for certain that this ability of hers worked every time. In fact, of the three events thus far, only Annie’s reaction to her suggestion she slap Manning was irrefutably linked to a power beyond her comprehension. Billy’s kiss and this passing could be explained by other means.

  Why are you so resistant to the idea, Darcy?

  Because it was too much. Who’d ever heard of such a preposterous thing? The world turned on its axis, round and round without even the slightest pause, regardless of what anyone did. Some things did not change. Movies of superheroes who’d evolved, or vampires who fed on the living were one thing. This . . . this was another.

  Then again, so was writing in the books below the monastery with Billy as a child.

  The bulk of the crowd was gathered around the scene a hundred yards to her back now. Dozens, maybe hundreds, were still hopping the fences and pouring into the cemetery from all sides, coming to see what all the fuss was about. But the main entrance was guarded and lay directly behind the trees she walked to. Large gravestones rose from the ground like guards for the dead.

  Darcy walked around a few of the monuments.

  David Wilber

  1999–2023

  Who Loved Truth More Than Life

  Rest in Peace

  Another to Zephaniah Smith. Where did these names come from? America was a mishmash of a hundred cultures all thrown into one giant pot and stirred slowly over the fires of time. A delicious stew of harmonious humanity celebrating diversity and tolerance. Naming their children Zephaniah Smith.

  “You lost?”

  Darcy turned around, startled by the low voice. Five men stared at her from a distance of ten feet, two with their feet planted on headstones. She recognized the one who appeared to be their leader by the noose stuffed half into his jeans pocket. He’d stared at her from the crowd earlier.

  “No, not really. You?” she asked.

  “You look lost to me,” the man said. They were blacks, gangbangers with red and blue bandanas wrapped around their upper arms. Silver chains with crosses hung heavy from their necks.

  “Last I checked we were in Union Cemetery, close to downtown,Kansas City,” she said. “You need directions somewhere?”

  One of the others chuckled.“Man, she got it going, James.”

  “Shut up, fool.”He jerked his chin at Darcy. “You think a smart mouth makes you any better?”

  Darcy glanced at the rope. “What’s the noose for?”

  “They’re used for hangings. Or did you think your kind were the only ones who knew how to have fun?”

  It occurred to her that she might be in a bit of trouble here. She looked at them all, eyes fired for violence. Maybe she’d spoken too soon. There were times to fight back and times to walk away, and although she wasn’t very good at the latter, this was shaping up to be a time for it.

  “I’m sorry for your loss,” she said with as much sincerity as she could. And she meant it.

  James walked slowly up to her, grinning. He reached out for her chin, and although every bone in her body begged her to snap, she made no attempt to stop him. His finger traced a line down her cheek, down her neck, over her shoulder.

  Darcy began to tremble.

  “What’s a lily-white party girl like you doing in our town? Hmmm?”

  She swallowed. “I’m trying to help you out.”

  The one who’d chuckled earlier looked back at the crowd, then stepped up with the others. She took a step backward, then another, and ran into Zephaniah Smith’s large tombstone. She thought about screaming Billy’s name but knew he’d never hear her.

  “All dressed up like a rock star,” James said, plucking at the straps on her dress. “You came down here to rock out with the monkeys, celebrate the lynching. Huh?”

  “Sing for us, rock star,” one dressed in a red shirt said.

  They pressed closer, forming a tight circle that prevented her from seeing past them. Her fear spiked and she began to sweat.

  “You’re mistaking me for someone else,” she said. “I don’t have a racist bone in my body.”

  “That so? How many times have I heard that? I saw the way you walked around all high and mighty.”

  “Come on, sing for us, lily-white,” the one in the red shirt repeated.

  “Disappointed by the turnout, party girl?” James said. His gleaming white teeth and wet lips were close, covered in the smell of tobacco. “I knew that girl you have in the tent back there. She was the valedictorian at my high school four years ago. You people never get it, do you?”

  Darcy felt smothered. She could smell their deodorant, their breath, feel the heat from their bodies. Trapped. Boarded up, sealed tight, no way out.

  “Please . . .” She felt her reserves of courage waning and closed her eyes. “Please, please . . .” Her own shift from defiance to dread sickened her, but she felt powerless to stop her sinking emotions.

  “You heard him,” James said. “Sing and we might let you walk away.” She felt something touch her head, then slide down over her face. The noose, she saw with a glance. He’d slipped the noose over her head.

  “How does it feel?”

  She cowered against Zephaniah Smith’s tombstone, hands flat against the surface on either side. She should sing, she thought. Just sing. How she’d found herself in such a predicament was no longer a relevant question. She had to get out, that was all that mattered now.

  “Go on,” James said, mouth hovering an inch from her face. “Sing like a bird.”

  “Please . . .”

  “Sing!” he screamed.

  She flinched and began to sing through a flood of tears. Random words unconnected to any tune she knew. “Please, don’t hurt me, please save me, please, I beg you, I beg you, I beg you.”

  “What else, huh, baby? What else you beg us to do?”

  She could barely think straight. Fury pushed her fear back—but then it returned, even more tangible than before.

  “Sing for us that lily-white lullaby, baby,” James said, lifting the glasses from her face.

  Darcy clenched her eyes and tried to sing again, but the words refused to form any tune. “Please leave me alone. Please . . .”

  She couldn’t do this. Any moment and she would crack; she could feel the outrage coiled inside her mind, straining against good sense. When she snapped she would launch herself at them fingernails first, take some skin with her, and then be beaten to a pulp, she knew that. And she didn’t want that. But she just couldn’t cower here and sing for them.

  “Please . . .” she whispered. “Billy, please. Please don’t do this.”

  “Please don’t do this,” he mimicked. The noose tightened. “Don’t do what? Make you sing or hang you by the neck? Isn’t that what you people want us blacks to do for you? Perform like a bunch of monkeys?”

  “No, no, that’s not me.”

  Their leader leaned forward and licked her cheek. Her control broke then, while his tongue was still on her face.

  “Don’t!” She lowered her head, shoved both arms out, and
pounded into his gut like a battering ram.“Don’t.Don’t you dare touch me! Don’t, you sick beast!”

  “Mother of . . .” Hands grabbed her and pinned her back against the tombstone, but she kicked out with both feet.

  However noble and courageous her attack, it yielded nothing but rage from them. They smothered her, punched her in her gut. A hand slapped her face.

  One of them got his arm around her throat and began to choke her so she couldn’t breathe, much less beg for . . .

  Then Darcy remembered her voice. A distant abstract detail floating on the edge of her mind. Save yourself, Darcy! Look in their eyes and speak to them and save yourself!

  She snapped her eyes wide. James grabbed her face in one hand and squeezed her cheeks tight. “You’re going to pay for that, lily-white.”

  Darcy tried to scream at him; nothing but rasping air came out.

  “Back off, James. You can’t kill her,” one of them said.

  “No?”His fist slammed into her gut and she jerked forward against the arm coiled around her throat. She tried to suck in some air, found none. Her oxygen-deprived head pounded; the world began to fade.

  She was going to pass out! She wanted to look them in the eyes and use her voice, but now she was going to pass . . .

  James grabbed her hair and jerked her head back so that she was forced to stare into his face. “It’s nothing personal, lily-white, but we’re going to send a message. And you’re our messenger.”

  His eyes were only a few inches from hers when the arm around her throat relaxed.

  She forced a single word from her lungs with her last reserve of air. “No,” she breathed.

  Then she sucked at the air. Her lungs filled with oxygen. James continued to drill her with his malignant stare. It isn’t going to work. Tears blurred her vision. And then Darcy did the only thing left in her heart to do, knowing that they were going to kill her.

  She screamed her rage. “No, no, no!” she screamed, each word growing in volume. “Let me go, you sick dog, you have no right to touch me, no, no . . .”

  The arm tightened, cutting off her voice.

  James froze, breathing hard. His eyes were wide.

  “Let her go,” one of the others said.