She soon discerned that the group was comprised exclusively of men. Was she witnessing a fraternity initiation? She had almost decided that that was it, when she spotted a familiar face that caused her to gasp.
Daboey Gorn. What was the county solicitor doing out here in the middle of nowhere? And there was Judge Fargo, too.
Was it some sort of club meeting?
She also spotted the president of the school board, Prosper's postmaster, Herman Johnson, and Bob Whitaker, the pastor.
To a man, their attention was focused on something lying on the ground. They had formed a tight circle around it, so Kendall couldn't see it clearly enough to identify it.
She nearly jumped out of her skin when another shout went up. Herman Johnson threw his head back and released a warbling, bloodcurdling yell as several of his cohorts hoisted up the object that had been lying on the ground.
It was a Christian cross.
And nailed to it was Michael Li.
Chapter 18
The young man was naked.
Where his genitals should have been was a fountain pumping dark, red blood. His head dangled lifelessly over his thin chest. He was either dead or unconscious.
Kendall was too transfixed by horror to scream. She watched in mute terror as one of the men cupped his hands for Mr. Johnson's right foot and gave him a boost up. On eye level with Michael Li, he grabbed a handful of the boy's hair and pulled his head up, then forced open his mouth and stuffed something inside. Kendall could easily guess what it was.
As John son dropped back to the ground, everyone else cheered. When the cheering stopped, the group fell eerily silent. Moments later, they began singing a hymn.
Nausea rose in the back of Kendall's throat. She swallowed the bile to keep from retching, and began stealthily backing away, fearful now that she would be discovered. She had witnessed the vigilante-style execution of an innocent boy. If they knew she had seen them, they would show her no more mercy than they had Michael Li.
As soon as she was certain she couldn't be seen, she turned and fled, tearing through the trees more madly than she had before, heedless of the noise she made. They wouldn't hear her. They were still singing a hymn, making a travesty of the composer's holy words.
A vine tripped her and she nearly fell. Reflexively She laid a protective hand over her tummy. She knew that she had to be careful for the baby's sake. She must go slower.
But she must hurry. If the authorities were alerted immediately, they could come and arrest them all at the scene of their vile crime.
"My God," she gasped, thinking of the shockwaves this would send throughout the community. How had Herman Johnson, considered by most an obnoxious lout, talked these pillars of the community into participating in such an atrocity?
Moving quickly but no longer at a dead run, Kendall tried to retrace the path she had made earlier, but in the darkness that was impossible. Darkness also concealed the depression in the ground until it was too late.
Losing her footing, she pitched forward, falling facedown and landing hard. The fall knocked the wind out of her, and for several moments she could only lie there and suck in deep breaths.
That's when she was assailed by an overwhelming odor so ghastly that it made her gag. In the same instant, she realized that she was sprawled not on dirt but on cloth. Bracing herself on the heels of her hands, she pushed herself up. When she did, she came face to face with Bama.
Half of his face was missing, and the half that remained was badly decomposed. One of his eye sockets was empty, save for the teeming insects that were still making a meal of him.
"Ohmygodmygodmygod." Whimpering in fright, Kendall scrambled backward and vomited onto the ground.
Then, still on hands and knees, she stared down at the rotting corpse, which had obviously been buried in a grave too shallow to protect it from scavengers. Flesh had been torn from the skeleton, but animals hadn't killed him. He had died from a gunshot. There was a black, hole in the center of his forehead.
Suicide? Doubtful. Was it a coincidence that Bama's body had been left so near the scene of an execution? There was little doubt in Kendall's mind who had killed him.
Her knees were almost too shaky to support her, but she forced herself to her feet. She stepped over Bama's desecrated remains and continued to stagger blindly in the general direction of the road until she reached it. She had veered several degrees off course, but her car was in sight. She loped toward it and was glad she had left the engine running. It would save time. Besides, she didn't think her trembling hands could have handled an ignition key.
As she sped away, she planned her strategy. In order to reach the center of town, she would have to go past her house.
Why not stop there and call the sheriff? Maybe please, God Matt would be home. She needed him. His infidelity with Lottie Lynam receded to insignificance when measured against what she had just witnessed.
She focused her eyes on the road, gripped the steering wheel, and tried to concentrate on what she must do, but her mind projected images of Michael with that hideous cross. She heard again the men cheering when his genitals were stuffed into his mouth.
And Bama. Sweet, harmless Bama, who had a kind word for everyone, who predicted the weather with remarkable accuracy. He had no doubt been executed because he was a blight to the city's attractiveness. He was a nuisance, an unproductive citizen, a bad role model for Prosper's children.
My God, how many other undesirables had been disposed of or punished in this savage, barbaric fashion?
Billy Joe Crook? Surely! He was a thief, so they had severed his arm. Who would dispute the seemingly innocent, albeit tragic, story about an accident? Certainly not Billy Joe, whose life would be in jeopardy if he revealed that his misfortune had in fact been the brainchild of a group of self-appointed judges.
"An eye for an eye" was their credo. Michael Li had stepped over the line with a white girl. Castration and death were his sentence.
Kendall actually gave a glad cry when she saw Matt's car parked in front of their house. Racing up the front steps, she shouted his name. As she ran down the hall, he stepped from the bedroom, obviously fresh from the shower. His hair was still damp. A towel was wrapped around his waist.
"Kendall, where have you been? I came back to find the house empty. After our quarrel"
"Matt, thank God you're here." She threw herself into his arms and sobbed against his bare chest.
He hugged her tightly. "Darling! Can you forgive me? Can we begin again?"
"Yes, of course, but listen, listen to me!"
When she pulled herself away from him, he realized that her enthusiasm over seeing him wasn't passion-driven. "What in the world happened? You're as pale as a sheet. What's this in your hair?" He plucked a twig from it and looked at it curiously.
"Matt, it was horrible." She sobbed. "I never would have believed it if I hadn't seen it. They had Michael Li. You probably don't know him. He's . . . Never mind, I can fill you in later. You'd better get dressed. I'm going to call the police right now. They can meet us here because it's on the way. I'll lead them to"
"Kendall, get a grip. What in heaven's name are you talking about?"
Now that he'd had time to look her over, he was becoming nearly as alarmed as she. He touched her cheek, and his finger came away red. "You're bleeding. How did you get scratched up like this?"
"I'm fine. Really. Just scared."
"Who hurt you?" he demanded angrily. "The Crook twins?
If those bastards"
"No, no!" she shouted over him. "Listen, Matt. They killed Michael Li. At least I think he was dead. They had castrated him and there was blood everywhere. On him, on the ground."
She worked free of him and stepped over his pile of dirty clothes to reach the telephone. She punched out 911.
"You're not making any sense, Kendall. Who are you talking about?"
"Michael Li," she repeated impatiently. "A boy falsely accused of raping Kim Johnson. They killed Bama, too. I found his body out there when I was running. Hello? Yes? This is. No, don't put me on hold!" she screamed into the receiver, her voice cracking.
Matt moved quickly to her side. "Kendall, you're hysterical."
"No, I'm not. I swear I'm not." She swallowed, forcibly repressing the rising hysteria she had denied. Her teeth were chattering uncontrollably. "By the time the police get here, I'll be calm. I can take them straight to it."
"Straight to what?"
"Where the hogs are slaughtered. They probably do their killing there so the blood won't be noticed," she added, the thought having suddenly occurred to her. "They're smart. And there are so many of them. Peccable we know and would never suspect."
"What were you doing out in the woods alone at night?"
"I was coming to find you." Hot, salty tears spilled over her eyelids and rolled down her cheeks. "I wanted to see you.
I didn't want this thing with Lottie to fester and become irreparable. I couldn't wait until you got home to make every thing right between us. I was trying to find the deer lease, but I got lost."
"Emergency services. How can I help you?"
"Yes, hello?" She signaled Matt that someone had finally returned to the line. "I need the police or the sheriff's office immediately. My name is"
Matt snatched the receiver from her and hung it up. She gaped at him, dumbfounded. "Why'd you do that? I've got to report this! I can take them there. If they can get out there soon enough t,
"You're not going anywhere except to the shower, then to bed." He stroked her hair. "The forest can be spooky at night If you're not used to it. You got lost and panicked, darling.
You're having an anxiety attack. After a hot shower and a cold glass of wine, you'll forget all about it."
"This isn't an anxiety attack!" Realizing that her screeching tone only supported his theory, she took a deep breath. "I'm in full control of my faculties, I assure you. I'm terrified, but I'm not crazy."
"I'm not Suggesting you're crazy. But you've been under an enormous amount of stress lately, and"
She pushed him aside. "Stop patronizing me and listen.
Matt, they"
"First of all, who is this 'they' you keep referring to?"
"Just about everyone with some authority around here. I could name a dozen prominent men."
She was ticking off a list when he interrupted her again.
"And you're saying these men are connected to a castration and crucifixion? Not to mention the murder of a panhandler?"
He cocked his eyebrows skeptically. "Kendall, be reasonable.
How do you expect me to believe such a tale?"
"You believe it."
He tilted his head in puzzlement.
A shudder passed through her. "I never mentioned a crucifixion."
Her eyes dropped to the pile of discarded clothes on the floor. The soles of his boots were caked with mud, studded with twigs and pine needles. She detected a faint smell of wood smoke.
Slowly her eyes moved back up to his. He was watching her calmly, his expression bland. "You were there, weren't you?" she whispered gruffly. "You're one o f them. And Gibb, too."
"Kendall." He reached for her.
She turned and ran, but had taken no more than a few steps before he grabbed the back of her jacket and jerked her to a halt. "Let go of me!" Reaching behind her, she tried to scratch his face with her nails and derived some satisfaction when she heard him grunt in pain.
"You just couldn't leave well enough alone, could you, Miss Buttinsky? "
She elbowed him in the stomach. He released her and grabbed his gut. Kendall made a dash for the door, but he caught her again.
They struggled, and finally he managed to pin her arms to her sides. His face was contorted with rage. Spittle flew from his mouth as he bent low and shouted directly into her face.
"You want to talk to the sheriff? Or the police chief? Fine.
You'll find them out there with the rest of us."
"Who are you?"
"The Brotherhood. We mete out justice because so-called democracy and the legal system have turned against us. It's all on the side of the riffraff now. To even the odds, we're forced to take matters into our own hands."
"You kill people?"
"Sometimes."
"How many? How long has this been going on?"
"For decades."
Her knees buckled and she would have collapsed if he hadn't held her up. "We had hoped you would join us, Kendall. You certainly can't fight us."
"Wanna bet?"
She drove her knee into his groin. He swore as he bent double. Without even thinking about it, Kendall whirled, grabbed a vase of roses from the dresser, and swung it with all her might at his head. He went down like a felled tree and lay motionless.
For several moments she stared at his still form, not quite believing what she had done. Her breathing was loud and harsh. She thought of her baby. Would it survive this night?
Would she?
Only if she fled.
She removed her wedding ring and threw it down at Matt.
Then she headed for the front door at a run.
But car headlights were approaching the house. The vehicle stopped. Gibb got out of his pickup truck, came up the steps, and knocked.
On impulse, Kendall raced back into the bedroom, but only long enough to snatch a robe from the closet.
"Coming!" she called. Rushing to the front door, she shoved her arms into the robe and pulled it tightly around her to cover her dirty clothes and scratched arms. At the last moment, she remembered to kick off her shoes. Then she opened the door a crack and peered out.