Blood of Cain (Sean O'Brien (Mystery/Thrillers)) by Tom Lowe Read Free Book Online

nothing out. What happened?”
    She nodded and stared at the lighthouse a moment before looking back at me. She took a deep breath and began telling me everything that happened in her life during the last twenty-four hours. She said, “I know I shouldn’t have run off, but I didn't know what to do. I had Lonnie's blood on my hands and shirt. I've had some trouble before with the police in my life … I just didn't want to go there. I got scared and ran.”
    “What kind of trouble?”
    “I've had to become pretty independent. My childhood turned to shit, so as I grew older I made up my mind that no one would hurt me again.”
    “Why would the killer attack your friend, Lonnie, in the middle of the night? Was it a mugging gone very badly, or was it some kind of revenge killing?”
    “I don't know.”
    “Did he have enemies? Someone he owed money to, maybe? Deal in drugs?”
    “I don’t know that either.”
    “And you never got a good look at the killer's face, right?”
    “He wore a hoodie. It was too dark.”
    “Why were you working at the carnival?”
    “I grew up in an Irish-American gypsy family. I'm used to being on the road. But we … or they, don’t call themselves gypsies. The name used is travelers.”
    “So did you begin working in a carnival because you like to travel?”
    “That's part of it. The other part is because I'm looking for somebody.”
    “Who's that?”
    “The man who … who hurt me , murdered my mother and father, and stole something from my grandmother, something my grandfather had given her a long time ago.” Her nostrils flared slightly, eyes forceful.
    “Who is this man you're trying to find?”
    “My uncle.”
    I thought about Nick's
'Uncle Nick'
comment earlier to her. “I'm sorry to hear that. Does this man work at that carnival?”
    “I was hoping he did, but I guess I was wrong. A friend of mine told me he thought he'd seen my uncle working at a county fair that came through Charleston, South Carolina. That isn't too far from where I'd lived. So I went there. My friend said this guy was working as a weight and age guesser. That sounded like something my uncle would do.”
    “Was he good at it?”
    “Yeah, he was. As a traveler, working the summer circuit, he would sell senior citizens a new roof when they didn't need one. He’d convince people their driveway needed paving, whatever. He worked with a three-man crew, did crappy work, and like basically conned his way throughout the South. They stayed one step away from the sheriff.”
    “When was the last time you saw him?”
    “It’s been a little more than four years.”
    “Why try to find him on your own? Maybe you should turn it over to the police.”
    “They couldn’t ever find him. It’s a cold case. My grandmother’s scared shitless of him. I can’t prove he raped me from the time I was twelve ‘till I could hold a butcher knife in my hand. Before he was spotted working at a carnival, we’d heard he was a preacher in some Kentucky mountain town. He’s mentally a sicko, but he can charm people, especially women. He knows hypnosis, too. We heard he settled there, Kentucky. Somebody supposedly started calling him a prophet. He stole every dollar the little church had.”
    “How do you know this?”
    “FBI. They came around when a man fitting my uncle’s description robbed a bank in South Boston. And he did it without a gun. The teller said she couldn’t remember anything, even giving the money to him. It was like she’d been hypnotized. My uncle's picture was on the bank's security tapes. My grandmother identified him.”
    “Is the FBI still actively looking for your uncle?”
    “I think so.”
    “What would you do if you found him?”
    She was silent for a few seconds, her eyes drifting across the marina, fingers gripping her knees, knuckles cotton-white. She swallowed dryly and whispered, “I don’t know.”
    “Could this man have killed Lonnie?”
    “Maybe. If he was somehow there. He could