Blood Orchard Part 19

Francine yelled as her pent up ire bubbled over. She charged Sylvia, clutched the ma.s.sive lever, and cranked it with all her might.

"Do you think Francine h.e.l.ler wants back in?"

Jay stepped into the living room. "I've had enough surprises for one day."

Coren peered through the gla.s.s. "Well, it sure isn't Pritchard."

"Who is it?"

"I don't know. Could be a neighbor."

Coren opened the door. Vance stepped into view and said h.e.l.lo with a right jab. Blood sprayed from Coren's nose as he staggered against the kitchen table. Vance crossed the threshold and dropped a hammer fist. Coren rolled onto the floor, the attack missing his head by inches.

Jay raised his hands in surrender. "What the h.e.l.l's going on here?"

Vance's leer leeched onto Jay. He advanced over Coren, c.o.c.ked his fist back, and then paused. His arm dropped to his side and he blinked.

"Jay Donovan? What's going on?"

Jay shrugged and lowered his hands. "That's what I'd like to know."

"Are you Coren Raines?"

The homeowner in question stood to his feet and pinched his nostrils. His voice was nasal when he spoke. "I'll go get him. I think he's in the john."

"The h.e.l.l with that!"

Coren backed against the wall. "Listen, whoever you are, you're breaking and entering, trespa.s.sing, and -"

Vance punched Coren in the jaw with a left jab. Coren crumpled to the floor.

Jay stepped in front of Vance. "Enough! I've got TV cameras set up in every room of this house!"

Vance backed off and rubbed his knuckles. "Good, because this guy has my daughters!"

Coren glared at him. "You're crazy."

"I'm not the one with three open graves in my backyard! And I know for a fact that those bodies are Pritchard's girls!"

Jay waved his hand before Vance's face. "Who disappeared fifteen years ago. He didn't even live here then."

Coren stood, swayed, and then regained his balance. "Vance Trammell? Coren Raines. Nice to meet you."

Vance knocked away Coren's outstretched hand and c.o.c.ked his arm.

Jay stood his ground. "Vance! I know you're h.e.l.l-bent on finding your daughters, but they're not here! I already looked!"

Vance pointed in Jay's face. "You expect me to believe that? There's triplets buried out there. It seems pretty obvious that he's guilty."

"They've been buried out there for fifteen years."

"Then why is he digging them up?"

Coren glanced around the room for a means of self-defense. "Hey, they dug themselves out!"

Vance rushed. "You liar!"

Jay held him back. "Vance! Listen to me! I've already interrogated him! And believe you and me, he didn't dig up Pritchard's daughters!"

"Malarkey! Pritchard told me he's hiding something!"

"Is that right? Well, who lived here before him that's so saintly?"

"Ray Hodge, that's who! A friend of mine!"

Coren stepped forward. "Then who is Edwold Gentry?"

"How should I know?"

"Because Hodge signed his t.i.tle over to him."

Vance blinked. His reminiscence from a mere ten minutes ago returned full force. He stepped back and Jay released him. "How do you know that?"

"Google."

"Google." Vance shook his head and grabbed a chair. "Mind if I sit down?"

"Be my guest. You just punched me in the face." Coren joined Jay's side. "What do you know?"

"I know something's not right here." Vance buried his face in his hands, grumbled, and then looked up. "Ray told me once that Hank Adler and Burl Nelson were pressuring him to sell the house. Now I learn that he signed over the t.i.tle. It makes perfect sense. Edwold Gentry was probably an alias so they could sweep it under the rug. But why? They never did anything with the property."

"Sure they did. They turned it into a cemetery."

The three men exchanged glances as the pieces of the puzzle glued together.

Vance trembled and his face contorted. He was on the verge of breaking down. His voice was hoa.r.s.e. "They took my girls. Hank and Burl took my girls." He shook his head. "Why?"

Jay scratched his beard. "Because they're triplets. They didn't want three more bullies in this town."

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE.

Sylvia's legs tore at the knees with a pop and squelch, spraying blood on Francine. She cried out, her face crimson and twisted. She writhed as she dangled on the rack, teetering on unconsciousness.

Francine released the crank. She stared, dumbfounded by the surreal image. Sylvia's legs twitched in place, secured by the straps, spurting like fountains. Loren's relentless screams snapped Francine back to reality.

"Oohh! Oohh!"

Francine raised her hand as she approached Loren. She still clutched the pear. Loren jerked from side to side and strained her neck like a bobblehead. Francine taunted her, opening and shutting the razor-sharp leaves as she inched them toward her face.

Francine glanced out of the corner of her eye. Mr. Adler pulled up his overalls and kicked aside Henna's decapitated body. He was drenched in blood. He wiped the sweat off his forehead.

Loren's sobs reinforced Francine's focus. She c.o.c.ked back the pear in a punching stance.

Hank laughed and nodded. "Jam it in there real hard."

Francine followed orders. She charged Loren and jabbed the pear. Loren clamped her mouth shut seconds before impact. The metal tip shattered her incisors. Her cries were cut short as Francine squeezed the handle. The leaves sprang open. Francine yanked the pear from her mouth and stepped back. Teeth poured from Loren's bleeding mouth, as did a severed tongue, and plopped on the dirt.

Francine grinned as Loren choked on blood and canines. Her face paled and turned purplish-blue, at which point her body went limp.

Hank barged in front of Francine and crouched. He undid the chair straps and grabbed Loren's ankles. He then twisted her legs like a pretzel, breaking bones through skin. "There. Now she won't be going nowhere."

Francine's wide-eyed stare roved the stalls. All of the Blondies were still, either unconscious or dead. Sylvia dangled from the bloodstained rack, dismembered and agape. Loren was slouched forward, red drivel splattering her entangled feet. Henna's decapitated and defiled body seeped fluids in the dirt like a slaughtered cow. Francine was beside herself. The bullies would never hara.s.s her again.

"Hank? What have you done?"

The accomplices turned in unison. Burl walked toward them with the shovel in hand. His chin was black-and-blue and the gash on his head trickled blood down the back of his neck.

He pointed the shovel. "What's the matter with you? You're a lunatic!"

Hank wiped his hands on his overalls. "I had help, seeing how you decided to nap."

"You killed them!"

"We didn't buy Hodge's property for a farmer's market, Burl. We needed burial grounds."

"For the sheriff's daughters?" Burl shook his head, then jabbed the blade into the dirt. "I had no part in this! I'm not even here! This is all your doing!" He gestured at Francine. "Yours, too! They bullied you! You're still alive, aren't you?"

Francine nodded. When she spoke, her voice was monotone, as if hypnotized. "If they were alive, they'd bully me."

"Oh waa waa, you baby!"

Hank stepped into Burl's face. "Shut it, Burl! You act like they never bullied you! You were scared of 'em!"

The shovel trembled in Burl's fist, a mixture of ire and arthritis. "You lied to me, Hank! That farmer's market...That was my dream!"

"You can have your dream. You'll just have some bodies beneath it."

Burl's mind kept pace with his stomach, twisting and knotting. He wished he had avoided vengeance. He sure should have distrusted Hank. Now he had three bodies on his conscience in the presence of two murderers. He itched to crush Hank's skull with the shovel and knock some sense into Francine.

He closed his eyes, and then opened them. He yearned to sweep the mess under a rug. Pritchard's daughters had to be buried. Calling 9-1-1 would land him a death sentence. There was no hiding the fact that he was an accomplice.

"As soon as it's dark we haul them out! That's it! You hear me? Then you forget I was even here."

Hank sneered. "We'll bury them in Hodge's backyard, put that swamp to use. You best believe I got their plots picked out."

Burl turned his back, headed for the doors. "I'll get the truck."

Francine was entranced. The images played over and over in her head. Loren choking at her hands. Sylvia's limbs severed, twitching in their shackles. Mr. Adler with his pants down, forcing himself on Henna as he decapitated her. She held herself tight, and then rocked back and forth. She wondered if her parents were looking for her yet. Home seemed so distant; a dream forgotten seconds after waking.

The pear slipped from her fingers, clanked on the dirt. Her actions would yield consequences. Her father would beat her. Her mother would cry herself to sleep. Sheriff Pritchard might even lock her up.

She sat on a hay bale and stared into s.p.a.ce. A grin teased her lips. The Blondies were gone, problem solved. That was all that mattered. Regardless of the repercussions, her life would be peaceful and worry-free. And she would live happily ever after.

The end.

"The barn! Of course!"

"Jay, what are you babbling about?"

"Adler's barn was a torture chamber! I was snooping around there the other night!"

"What? You just now remembered that? That whole time you were pointing fingers at me you knew that he was hiding a torture chamber? When did you plan on breaking the news?"

"It didn't click. I just thought it was a sick collection at the time. I'm a reporter, not a P.I."

Vance clutched his temples. "I'm going to kill him."

Jay ran into the living room and peered out the window. "Coren, does your truck run? We need to get to that barn."

"Both of you calm down. Are you sure we're not jumping to conclusions? Vance here was ready to kill me a second ago and Jay you weren't far off the same ledge."

Vance grabbed Coren's s.h.i.+rt collar and slammed him against the wall. "Jumping to conclusions? Pritchard's daughters are buried in your backyard, which used to be owned by Adler and Nelson, and Farmer Hank has a torture chamber in his barn! No one's jumping to conclusions!"

"Alright, alright! The keys are on the fridge!"

Vance released Coren, reached over the freezer, and found the keys. "Let's go. I'll drive."

Coren was at his heels. "Just to warn you, Pritchard's been staking out my house for the past day."

"Pritchard stakes out everybody's house. He's a small town sheriff. He'll fine you for breathing."

Hank dropped Burl's decapitated body on Barter's burnt remains. He caught his breath as he scanned the barn. His mind was set. He would bury Barter beneath the rack and Burl a stall or two over, not far from where he slaughtered his first pig.

He chuckled and grabbed the shovel. He needed the graves dug by sunset. A light in the barn would yield unwanted attention. He crossed the dirt and proceeded to move the rack as sweet reminiscence made him drool like a rabid dog.