Chapter 9: Up in Flames
"You've got bones in your closet, you got ghosts in your town. Ain't no doubt that they're gonna come out, they're waitin' for the sun to go down"-Little Big Town
Ben Healy sat alone in his kitchen. His hands rested upon the hard marble of his kitchen counter. He took a deep breath as he looked out the window as the morning fog slowly moved as if it were a living being across the dead grass of his shaggy lawn.
The television echoed in the background. He could hear the news reporter from where he stood.
"Local Ku Klux member was sent to the hospital tonight after an apparent assault last night," the reporter announced from the television.
Ben shook his head. He had been there. There was an assault. Jim Bowman had three of his fingers cut off by Robert Swanson, a local black man. It had been a real bloody mess when he had gotten there. Jim Bowman had cried like a small child as he watched his fingers being placed into a small bucket of ice.
"Sources say that charges have been filed," the reporter stated.
Ben chuckled and shook his head as he said to himself, "Salome is going to have a field day with that one."
Talking to himself had become commonplace for him ever since his wife left him. He looked down at his dirty dishes and shook his head. He wished he had a girlfriend, or hell to even have his wife back. The single life wasn't something that he enjoyed too much.
"Death," he heard a hoarse whisper from behind him.
"Merlie," he asked as he turned quickly expecting to see the spirit of Merlie-Ann Temple. What he saw was completely different.
A bloody Native American woman stood in the corner of his kitchen. Her eyes glared at him. He watched as flames burned inside of her eyes. Ben shook his head as the woman opened her mouth to speak but only blood fell from her toothless mouth.
"Evil," the woman hissed angrily.
Ben closed his eyes and placed his hands over his ears. He tightened his closed eyes and willed the apparition away. He had had enough of ghosts to last him a lifetime. He was tired of being haunted.
"I ain't got time for yal," he snapped in anger.
He opened his eyes and removed his hands from his ears and watched as the bloody apparition faded away from his sight. He shook his head and took a deep breath in order to calm his breaking nerves.
"This town is full of ghosts," he said as he looked up to the ceiling and shaking his head, "Why do you all gotta be cryptic? Why can't you all just come out and say what ya want instead of scarin' folks?"
...
A teenaged Salome stood in front of an abandoned grave. Weeds clawed desperately up the marble of the stone and partly hid the name of her father, Christopher Buck. The wind blew her long pony tail around her as she leaned upon a shovel that she had brought with her into the grave yard.
A single hot tear formed in her eye as she looked down at her father's grave in bitter hatred. The cold winter wind blew through her thin flannel shirt and light blue jeans as she looked down at the unloved grave.
"You aren't why I came here today," she informed harshly to the man that slept under the dirt, "I should throw your bones all over the Carolinas just so I can laugh in the knowledge that your rotten soul is damned to search always."
Salome shook her head and wiped away the angry tears as it fell down her cheek. She walked toward another grave and glared down at it.
SALOME BUCK was engraved in beautiful cursive script upon the beautiful grey grave stone. There were no weeds growing up near this stone. It was well taken care of. The only question was why where was there a grave stone with her name on it?
Freshly dug up earth was under her feet as she examining it. She pondered the many reasons why there would be a grave with her name on it, but no reasonable answer came to her mind.
"This is why I'm here," she whispered to herself as she grabbed the shovel and held it close to her. She argued inside of her mind on whether she wanted to dig into this dirt and find out what was hidden there. It could be something that she did not want to see or know about or it could be something of great importance.
Without thinking anymore on the what ifs, she slammed the shovel into the fresh earth and dug deep into the ground. She dug until her shovel hit something hard. She looked down into the shallow hole that she had dug and shook her head at what was looking up at her. A wooden coffin with a dirtied black and white picture from her high school year book looked up at her, daring her to open the latch and see what was inside.
"Go ahead," the voice of Lucas Buck said from behind her, "Open it."
She looked over her shoulder and shook her head as she took him in. He was wearing his brown police officer uniform. She rolled her eyes at her brother's presence. She had made it very clear to him that she wanted nothing to do with him and the rage that inhabited the both of them. She wanted to ignore their shared blood bond.
"Is this some kind of sick joke," she hissed in anger as she looked back down at the coffin, "You gonna put me in the ground? Should I be thanking you for the beautiful headstone?"
"Open it," he demanded with a small smile forming on his lips as he walked to stand behind her as she knelt down and quickly forced the lid open only to be greeted with a large amount of bills laying inside of the coffin.
"What is this," she asked in confusion as she looked at the large sum of cash just laying there. She touched the money lightly as if it were some sort of wild animal. She had known that Lucas had money but she had never actually seen it before.
"That is $68,000," he answered as he looked down at his little sister, "It's all yours. A graduation present."
"What," she asked as she looked up at him quickly.
"I'm gonna be in your future whether you like it or not," he stated in a matter of fact tone as he leaned over and picked up a handful of cash and smelled it as if it were a beautiful spring flower that had just bloomed, "I may need a good lawyer one day, Sally May."
Her jaw dropped at her brother's kindness. She had been so ugly to him in the previous years. She could hardly believe that he was giving her all this money just for her to go to school in Charleston.
"Why," she asked in disbelief.
"Because contrary to what you believe," he said as he looked into her eyes, "I do love you, Sally May."
She looked at him as curiosity came over her. Her eyes twinkled as she became overwhelmed with what her older brother had just confessed to her. She knew, deep inside, that he did love her. He had to. He had saved her when he could have very easily allowed her to die.
"So you'd just help," she asked as her eyes twinkled with a mixture of deep emotions, "After how horrible I've been to you?"
He chuckled at her and handed her the handful of cash. She took it and looked down at her hand. Her new tattoo flashed up at her, reminding her of just how much power that she and Lucas possessed inside of them.
"Growing up, Salome, is like groping in the dark," Lucas revealed with a small smile, "Sometimes you need a little help."
She looked away from him quickly. She had no idea what to say to him. She had never been driven to being speechless, but somehow Lucas Buck had done it. It was not a lie when she said that he was stronger than her. He had the ability to affect everyone and not be affected, she had the ability to affect everyone but she could be affected as well.
She listened as he turned from her and started to walk silently away from her. She closed her eyes and dropped the cash into the coffin. She turned quickly as a harsh cold wind blew between the two of them causing the fallen leaves to rustle around them.
"Thank you," she said as she ran after him. She stopped in front of him and watched as he turned around to face her with a mischievous grin on his features.
"You ain't gotta thank me for the-"
"No," she stated as she stepped forward and looked up into his eyes. She shook her head as she bit at her bottom lip nervously, "Thank you for saving me from Daddy. For letting me exist. You could have had it all for yourself, but instead you decided to share. Thank you Lucas," she nodded as she bit back tears, "Thank you for sharing with me."
...
Mary's body shook in nervousness as she walked toward the door of the principal's office. She felt as if she were a small child that had gotten sent to the principal for being cranky and refusing to do her work. Her hands shook as she pushed the door open and apprehensiveness over took her as she looked at Superintendent Chalmers, Selena, and Principal Jon McKay looked at her with cold indifference in their eyes.
She forced her feet forward and smiled at her bosses as she stood in front of the desk.
"What can I help you with," she asked as she looked at the two men and to Selena who stood in the corner with a proud smile upon her face.
"Uhm, Ms. Murphy," Jon said with his own apprehension in his voice, "We've decided to rearrange our classes."
She smiled and exhaled the breath that she had been holding in since she had gotten the call to come to the office during her conference period.
"Oh thank God," she announced with a growing smile, "I thought I was being fired."
Selena smiled and said in her husky voice, "I, for one, and all for the new changes. I think that it will benefit the children's education greatly."
Mary forced a smile on her face as she looked over to the vile teacher. She wanted to just tear the backstabbing slut into pieces for what she had done to her earlier in the semester.
"Well, let me hear it," Mary said enthusiastically, relieved that she still had her job.
"We've decided that splitting the children up by learning capabilities at such a young age is not very good for the development, ya know, their self-esteem," Chalmers stated in a very formal business tone, "So we are going back to the way things were."
"The way things were," she asked in confusion. Her heart beat as she waited for the reply. Her future depended on this answer.
"Yes," Chalmers answered, "with Ms. Coombs teaching the 5th grade."
"So I'm being moved to a-"
"Oh, I'm so sorry sweetie," Selena interrupted in mock sadness, "But they've decided that I am better qualified to teach these children. It takes a certain kind of person to teach small town children."
Mary felt her heart drop into her stomach as her world was taken from her. She was jobless now. She felt as if she was the most worthless person in the entire world at that moment.
"Selena," Chalmers chided quickly. Selena smiled as she looked at Mary's paling face.
"Well looks like you all don't need me anymore," Selena announced as she waved at the principal and walked out of the office, leaving Mary alone with her bosses.
"We're very sorry but," Jon tried to explain, but Mary raised her hand up at him to stop him from saying another word.
"You've said enough," she stated as she shook her head and bit back the hot tears that formed in her eyes.
She turned quickly and walked out of the office and back to her classroom. She sighed as she looked around her small classroom that she had decorated the day before the first day of school. This had become her home away from home. She loved her students and now it was all taken away from her.
"Fuck," she whispered in anger as she threw her few personal items into a small cardboard box. Her hidden picture of her girlfriend fell to the floor as she picked up the box and walked toward the door to leave.
"You need some help," Selena asked as she picked the picture off of the ground and looked at the photograph of Abigail White. She smiled as she took in the woman's eyes and short hair.
"She's pretty," Selena admitted as she handed the photograph. "Do you need some help? I can help you if ya want."
Mary felt rage bubbling inside of her as she looked into Selena's brown eyes.
"Go fuck yourself you white trash fuck twat," Mary hissed and instantly felt the anger escaping her. She moved passed Selena and quickly made her way out of the small school and toward her car.
She threw the box into her back seat and then threw her purse into the front passenger seat of her car. She hurriedly jumped into her car and shut the door and started the car.
She screamed as worry, betrayal, and anger came over her. Tears fell from her eyes as self-hatred bombarded her as if declaring war on her self-esteem. She banged her fists against the steering wheel as sobs escaped her.
"Fuck," she cried as she thought of Abigail.
She had tried to be there for Abby, but Abby had become emotionally distant in the last few weeks as she dug herself deeper and deeper into the story. Abby hadn't even cared about Carrie's death! Abby had said that she was overreacting to the death of an animal, but Carrie had become like a child to them.
A glint from the sun came from the passenger seat and hit her eye. She turned quickly to see the syringe full of euphoria staring at her, begging her to take it. It begged for her to experience true euphoria once again.
It promised to take away all of these pains, all of the self-hatred. It was there for her.
...
Craig Healy walked into the empty hall of the school from the gym where he had been taking the remaining shots for the yearbook. The high school basketball game had ended an hour ago and he was just finishing up on taking pictures of the decorations that the cheerleaders had made. The old air conditioner bumped through the school's hallway as it turned on. The lights flickered slightly and reflected off the newly waxed tiled floor. Pictures and trophy cases lined the hall that he was standing in.
As he fiddled with his camera, he heard the sound of footsteps coming from behind him. He turned quickly to see a dark figure standing in the darkness, just where the lights decided to not come on as if they were in collaboration with the shadowy figure.
He felt a sense of foreboding come over him as he looked at the tall dark figure.
"Hello," Craig asked as he placed his feet in a readied position in case he had to make a run for it, "Can I help you?"
There was no answer from the figure in the dark hallway.
He felt his feet move forward on their own accord. The feeling of foreboding came over him in greater waves and he stopped quickly.
"Buddy," he stated as he looked at the dark figure.
His eyes widened as he watched the large floor tiles levitate in the air as if by magic. The overhead lights flickered on and off as he watched the tiles move through the air with a dramatic speed towards him.
"Shit," he hissed as he rushed forward with the tiles following close behind him. He turned on a dime and listened as the tiles hit the wall with a very loud bang.
Craig hurried out of the school and through the parking lot to his old beat up car. His heart beat with a ferocity that could only be compared to the beating of a wild stallion. He had never been so afraid in his life than he had been alone in that hallway.
He took a deep breath to calm his beating heart and broken nerves and threw his bag and camera into the passenger seat. He started the car and sighed. A smile came over his face at how lucky he had been that he had survived such a strange encounter.
He had learned long ago that strange things always happened in Trinity and it was best not to question them…but that's what he was what he was doing. He was helping a reporter question the goings on in Trinity, South Carolina.
He was lucky that there wasn't a bomb strapped to the undercarriage of his car. He was lucky that his momma's house hadn't been burned down yet or that she hadn't mysteriously died. He was very lucky.
He pulled onto the highway as his nerves finally calmed down. He fiddled with the radio and smiled as one of his favorite songs played on the radio. He tapped on to the steering wheel and bobbed his head as Creedence Clearwater Revival's Bad Moon Rising played in his car.
"Hello Craig," a feminine voice announced from the back seat of his car.
Craig jumped and caused the car to swerve violently as he looked at Salome Martin's reflection in the small overhead mirror that he had duct taped on. He righted his car and watched as the female attorney examined her sharp painted nails in boredom.
"How the hell did you get in here," he asked as he caught his breath for what seemed like the hundredth time.
"Faith," she answered casually as a smile grew upon her sharp features, "So our little reporter still hasn't left?"
"Mrs. Martin-"
"How's your momma," she asked with a smile, "She like the check I gave her for that little patch of land out by the river where you and Bobby Joe used to smoke pot together?"
He had made a deal with the devil and he had to pay for it. He had asked Salome if she would by the land that his mother had been so desperately trying to sell to pay off the house and to pay the rest of his father's burial fees. He had to repay her by betraying Abby.
Lucas Buck frightened him, but Salome Martin was the darkness that would eventually drown him. His heart beat as if he had just run five miles straight without stopping. He felt like he would die from those piercing eyes of hers.
"She's the only one that hasn't left," he answered obediently.
She smiled at him and asked, "How is life? Good," she didn't wait for an answer, "Good. Now tell me what Abigail White knows."
"She doesn't know a lot," Craig answered honestly, "But she's learning more and more every day."
Salome smiled at his answer and chuckled. Craig felt a cold otherworldly shiver move up and down his spine as he watched her move a stray strand of hair from her eyes allowing the tattoo of the All Seeing Eye to be seen.
"You really did dig your grave on this one," she informed him with a smile as she looked out the tinted windows of his mother's old car, "Don't let that conscience eat you up too much. You Healy men all have that conscience thing in common. Just squish the little cricket, that's how I'd take care of it."
"Look Mrs. Martin, I can't help you anymore," he confided, "She's on pursuit of the truth. I tried tellin' her that we went too deep on this."
"Don't worry Craig," Salome said with an amused smile, "I'm not mad. I just wanted to thank you personally for finally seeing the light."
He breathed a sigh of relief as he felt the anxiety being lifted off of his chest. He had worried that she would be angry with him.
"I also got this for you," Craig stated as he searched through his bag, "Zack told me that if I wanted to keep my fingers that I needed to do this for him."
She smiled as he handed her a manila folder full of police reports, psychiatric notes, and photos of a grizzly scene. She chuckled as she flipped through the ghastly, bloody photographs.
"Ha ha," she said in delight as she pulled a photograph of a young Abigail White and examined it with bright eyes. She peered over to Craig who was looking at her through the rear view mirror.
"As always," she announced as she placed the photo back into its place within the file, "your payment will go into your account."
"I don't understand why-"
"This is Southern politics honey," she announced as she looked out the window into the darkness that surrounded them, "It's best you don't ask questions."
He nodded at her answer and took a deep breath. She had reassured him that she was not angry but he felt a new sense of foreboding come over him.
"Drop me off at my office," she demanded with a sweet smile as she looked back at him to see how pale he had become, "I'll be talkin' to your parole officer soon, Mr. Healy. I'll speak highly of how you have been so cooperative with me. I may even speak with the judge."
He inwardly scowled at the fact that she had brought up how he had needed her a few years before when he had broken into the feed store. He nodded as he pulled over to the side of the road in front of the law office and waited as she opened the back door and stood on the sidewalk, fixing her blouse. She smiled at him and looked into his eyes.
"You have a good night now Craig," she stated sweetly as she turned on her heels and allowed him to creep away.
He floored the gas as he tried to put as much distance between him and the senator's wife. He took a deep breath as he came upon the long stretch of road that led to his home. He had survived whatever mind trick Salome Martin was trying to play with him.
He shook his head as a new sense of urgency flowed through his veins and beat within his heart. He wanted to leave. He wanted to leave Trinity. It seemed so easy to just leave. He could do it. He would do it.
Craig put the gas pedal to the floor and sped passed his mother's home and toward the city limit sign. There was only two ways out of Trinity and that was either going North or going South. He had chosen to go South.
He sighed as he came to the bridge that led away from his home. He stopped in the middle of the road and took a deep breath as thought entered his mind on whether he should leave town or not.
Could he leave his mother alone in Trinity?
Salome had ensured him financial stability now that he had betrayed Abby for a few thousand dollars.
He made his decision and slowly moved forward over the bridge, leaving his past behind once and for all.
As his car moved toward the bridge a loud siren came from behind him and flashing bright lights signaled for him to pull over. He could see his cousin sitting in the passenger side of the patrol car alongside Lucas Buck.
The town had refused to let him leave.
...
Mary sat alone in her bathtub covered in bubbles. Abby had yet to come home like she had promised that morning. She had become used to being neglected, but this was too much. She had lost her job and needed someone to talk to.
Tears ran down her cheeks and fell down her throat and met up with the bubbles that floated on top of the scalding water. It felt as if the whole world was falling in on her and the only person that she had to talk to hadn't even bothered to call her to tell her that she was coming home.
Abigail no longer cared about her.
She was unloved once again.
Mary turned her attentions on to the beautiful syringe sitting upon the toilet seat just within reach of her. She felt it begging for her to embrace it.
Her hands trembled as she obeyed the object's pleas. She wanted to feel that euphoria that it promised her, the euphoria that she had tried so desperately to escape once before. She quickly uncapped it and placed it over her arm.
She sobbed as the sharp metal needle pierced through the paper thin skin of her arm and injected the drug into her body. She took a deep breath as a warming sensation filled her as the euphoria took over her and warmed her thin body. She smiled as a feeling of peace and love came over her body, but it was only momentarily.
Mary hissed as the euphoria quickly disappeared and was quickly replaced by an intense burning sensation that coursed through her veins and into her heart. She screamed in pain as the altered drug coursed through her body.
She forced herself to reach for the cordless phone upon the toilet seat with the last ounce of strength that she had as the drug continued burning her body like a wild fire burning through a forest in the hot summer. She dialed 911 and felt relief come over her when she heard someone's voice.
"911, what's your emergency?"
She screamed in pain as the drug coursed through her causing black and red spots to come over her body. She felt her heart beating as if it were running a marathon. She felt as if her heart would burst from the strength of this drug.
The pain became so unbearable that she lost all ability to keep herself awake. She passed out with half of her body handing out of the tub with the phone laying on the ground, the operator was begging for a reply from her. Her hair touched lightly on the tiled floor as the empty syringe rolled under the tub as if it were running from the scene of the crime.
Salome smiled as she placed her feet upon her desk as she listened to her new client. She looked down at his file and chuckled as she looked down at the grotesque photographs from the scene of the crime.
"You really did a number on him, Mr. Swanson," she stated with a proud smile, "What did you use?"
"Well I used my daddy's book makin' tools. I did just what you-"
Salome's closed office door opened with a loud bang and revealed Abigail White standing in the door frame glaring knives into the young lawyer. Salome smiled as she took in the angry woman's stance.
"Hello Ms. White," Salome announced in the kindest voice that she could muster up, "I'm with a client right now…I don't think it would be too troublesome if you'd take a seat and wait."
"We need to talk," Abby informed her in a harsh tone as she glared into Salome's darkened eyes, "Now."
Salome smiled as she pulled her feet off of the desk and waved toward her client that sat in the chair in front of her desk.
"Meet Mr. Robert Swanson," she said with a smile, "He took care of your Jim Bowman, the man that is responsible for your broken window."
"How'd you know about that," Abby asked.
Robert and Salome chuckled together. Abby watched as the two shared a secretive glance.
"Mrs. Martin knows everything 'bout everyone," Robert stated with a smile as Abby watched Salome raise her hand to move a stray piece of hair from her face and deliberately allowing them to see the tattoo of the eye upon her wrist.
"Mr. Swanson is my new client," she informed Abby with a smile, "Why don't you ask what he did to have the privilege of being my favorite client."
Abby watched as an amused grin painted Salome's features as she looked at the black man in front of her.
"What," Abby asked as she looked at the old man.
"My daddy was a carpenter," Robert stated as he leaned back in the chair, "Built some book cases for Lucas Buck a few years back. They were the most beautiful book cases that I ever saw. This other man, Mr. Jim Bowman, came around askin' if my daddy could make him some that were far more beautiful than Sheriff Buck's."
Abby watched as Salome smiled brightly as if she had just heard the best joke of all time. Abby felt a cold chill move through her back as she watched the man take a deep breath.
"When my daddy went over to his house, he had a surprise waitin' there for him," Robert said in anger as he recalled the memory as if it had happened yesterday, "When he got out of his car there were six Klan members all covered in white sheets waitin' for him," he paused as anger momentarily passed through his eyes, "They hung him up in the tree. They said he had looked at a white woman wrong."
Salome chuckled and added, "He cut Jim's fingers off with his daddy's own book making' tools. Kind of…poetic, if you'd ask me."
Robert nodded and added, "I waited for six years to catch him off guard. There wasn't ever any evidence to send him to jail. When I got there he asked what I was doin' and I said I wasn't makin' no book cases."
Abby turned to Salome and glared at her.
"Are you taking this case for publicity," Abby asked harshly.
Salome shook her head and replied in a matter of fact tone, "I care about my people, Ms. White. Maybe you should start learnin' to care about the people that you love."
Salome quickly moved her attentions back to her client and smiled at him as she closed his case file.
"Come by tomorrow," she informed him and watched as he thanked her and walked out. She looked at Abby and smiled at her with a knowing grin.
"Please take a seat," Salome demanded with a smile as she waved to the empty chairs in front of her desk.
"What's your deal," Abby asked as she took her seat in front of the desk. Her eyes bore into Salome's own eyes, daring her to speak the truth.
"You are becoming obsessed with Ms. White," Salome informed her as she leaned back into her chair, "Careful," she warned, "Obsession, they say, is the first step in possession."
"You got a man off for shooting a postman," she informed, referring to an old case that Salome had tried before she had married Albert Martin, "How?"
"He got shot in the leg," Salome answered simply, "It's not like he died or was a vegetable."
"And you're okay with that?"
Salome smiled brightly at the question and replied, "My bank account was. And Trinity enjoys the newly paved road that my client helped finish as part of his community service that he received," she paused, "Now, I'll ask again Ms. White, what can I do for you today?"
"You told me on the first day I met you that I needed to leave Trinity," Abby answered, "Why?"
Salome's eyes sparkled at Abby's question. A knowing smile formed across her pink lips as she said, "People…and animals…aren't safe here. As you have seen for yourself."
Rage surged through Abby's veins at Salome's joke toward her dog.
"You son of a-"
"Ah ah," Salome warned as she wagged her finger at the young reporter, "Not nice. Not nice at all."
"You are sick," Abby stated harshly.
"I didn't do anything," Salome informed her, "Don't lay your problems at my feet. I'm aware of the plight that homosexuals face every day, but don't go blamin' me for someone else's close mindedness. If I supported the Klan and their backwoods ideas, I'd be representing them and not the man that cut off their dragon's fingers."
Abby shook her head in anger and replied, "That doesn't-"
"And for future reference," Salome interrupted quickly, "I'm not a fan of unwarranted accusations. I've been hearing too many of them in the last couple of weeks. You vultures are trying to pin what happened on my husband on me…and you…well you are trying to pin every vile thing that has happened to you on me."
"Then who killed my dog," Abby asked, "Was it the sheriff? You two own this town. Kind of funny that it is the world's best kept secret that you two are related."
"It's not a secret," Salome informed her as she looked into the corner of her office to see the bloody Native American woman standing in the darkness with judgmental eyes glaring at her. She just smiled dismissively at the apparition and looked back to Abby.
"Maybe it was your past that killed your little dog," Salome suggested.
"The past can't hurt me."
Salome chuckled and replied in amusement, "Oh honey, you really don't know anything do you?"
Abby looked at the dark haired woman in confusion as she watched Salome remove herself from her rolling chair and walk toward a large file cabinet. She watched as Salome's long fingers scanned through her many manila files and quickly pulled out a large file.
"Are you aware that Craig Healy has investigated you," Salome asked as she walked back toward her desk and leaned on the wood in front of Abby, "He's had a secret file on you. On your family."
"What," she asked in surprise as she grabbed the file away from Salome's extended hand and looked at the pictures of her burned family members, "What's this?"
"This is the South, Ms. White," Salome informed her, "The past isn't dead here. It is very much alive."
Salome watched amusedly as Abby pawed through the many notes on her and her family's mysterious murder by fire. Salome turned her attentions back onto the ghost in the corner and lifted her brow at the apparition as if it was something that she was better than.
Her attentions quickly snapped back to Abby and said, "You don't want that black spot released to the public then I suggest you drop everything and get out now."
"How'd he," she started to ask and watched as a wicked smile crossed Salome's features once again.
"This is politics," Salome explained, "You think that they would just let you come in and destroy their keepers?"
"They?"
Salome smiled and pushed herself away from the desk and grabbed the file out of Abby's hand. She placed it safely back into its home with the other files that she kept over the years.
"And what if I can't leave town," Abby asked as she stood from the chair and eyed Salome with an intense worry that radiated from her.
"Don't come crying to me when things burn up around you," Salome informed her.
"I want to know the truth, Mrs. Martin," Abby said with intensity in her voice, "I can't go back empty handed."
Salome smiled and shrugged her shoulders as she replied mysteriously, "The secret history of the South is written in blood."
"I don't understand," Abby said as she shook her head and followed Salome as she walked toward her door, "Who are you?"
Salome smiled as she opened the door and Zachery walked up to them. A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he looked down on the two women that stood in front of him.
"Who am I Zack," she asked with a wide smile.
Abby noticed that Zachery was taken by this strange question that Salome had just asked, but she noticed the sparkle of understanding in his eyes.
"You're Salome Martin," he answered obediently.
Salome smiled in appreciation and asked, "Have you ever doubted that Zack?"
"I never dared to," he answered honestly as he allowed his gaze to fall upon the young reporter.
Salome turned her head slightly and watched as the Native American woman faded from its place in the corner of her office and she allowed a bright smile come over.
"Walk with me," she announced happily, "The both of you."
She smiled as the two followed her out of the office and toward the sidewalk. She watched as Zachery lit a cigarette and took a long drag off of it as she looked out at the trees.
"Give me a story," Abby begged as she watched Salome close her eyes and sniff the changing of the season in the air.
"You're the investigative reporter," Salome answered as she turned to look down at the woman, "Investigate."
"What did you mean by blood," Abby asked.
Salome smiled and moved to give herself some distance from the tobacco smoke that was wafting off of Zachery's cigarette.
"Family," Salome answered, "Geneo-"
A loud blast escaped from behind the three and large balls of fire lit up the night sky, painting the black sky with vibrant shades of reds and oranges. The blast from the office sent the three falling toward the concrete ground as burning boards and other debris from the explosion fell around them.
Salome felt a whirling of chants filling her mind as she looked at Abigail that lay beside her and then to the burning remnants of her office. She watched as a tribe of dancing Native Americans danced around the large fire as if they were celebrating the win of a major war.
She watched as a fuzziness came over her vision and pulled her into the dark waters of unconsciousness as if it were trying to drown her.
Thanks for all the lovely reviews! I've worked really hard on this little story so they mean the world to me :)
So what is going to happen to Craig?
Is Mary going to die?
Who blew up Salome's office?
So many questions with this chapter!
