“Henry Hillington was as mean and nasty as one of those snakes they dance with on Sunday mornings. A man like that hates himself and don’t know why, so he blames everybody else for the way he feels. He treated that boy worse than Elias did. He smacked him around, called him names, made fun of the way that boy walked and talked so much I hollered at him more than once to just leave him the fuck alone,” Griselda said. She stubbed out her cigarette and lit another one.
“But I didn’t do or say enough. Nobody did. Nobody looked out for that boy the way they should have. Then Henry started taking him out on the boat to gather the crab pots alone. Just the two of them,” Griselda said. Her eyes bore into Titus, saying things she couldn’t bring herself to speak aloud. Titus heard the words she refused to say and felt his skin begin to crawl.
“Then one day Henry Hillington got locked in the outhouse out back of the church and got bit by about seven or eight copperheads and water moccasins. Somebody locked him in there and dumped one of Elias’s aquariums on top of him. That was in 2000, I think,” Griselda said.
“I never heard about any of this. I graduated in 2000, but my Pop never said anything about a murder on the island,” Titus said.
Griselda chuckled. “Shit, even the old sheriff didn’t give a damn about Henry. Most people in Charon proper probably don’t even remember him. And Elias worked hard to make sure nobody actually called it murder. Didn’t want Sheriff Bennings over here taking too close a look at his operation, I reckon.”
“Was it the boy? Was he the one who did it? Whatever happened to him?” Titus asked.
Griselda expelled another cloud of smoke. “I don’t know. After Henry died, he just seemed to … slip away. I think he either ran away or they sent him away. If he did run away, wherever he ended up I hope the people there lock their doors at night and keep an eye on their pets.”
“But you think he killed Henry? Poured those snakes down on his head?” Titus asked.
“If I’m being honest, Henry was the kind of man that was going to find someone to kill him sooner or later. And the way he treated that child, I ain’t waste no tears on him. But that poor boy. The kind of pain they put him through, the hatred they poured into him all in the name of what they called church, well, I don’t think one killing would be enough for him, do you? That kind of hurt stays hungry.”
Griselda stubbed out her second cigarette. She said softly, “That kind of hurt has to eat.”
SEVENTEEN
Titus pulled into his parking spot at the sheriff’s office. He pulled out his notepad and wrote down Elias Hillington’s name, then wrote, “Missing boy? Murdered?” next to it. If even half of what Griselda had told him was true, then Holy Rock deserved his full attention.
The phrase carved into the skin of those children originated with Holy Rock. The mystery boy who killed Elias’s brother happened to be half-Black, according to Griselda. The fact that Elias, a racist, raised and abused a mixed-raced child. The fact that the victims were Black boys and girls no younger than fifteen but no older than seventeen. It felt like all this was connected in ways that he couldn’t yet see. But it also felt like everything he’d learned today was significant.
His instructors at the Academy had their own version of string theory. The way they explained it, there were invisible strings that vibrated unseen in the liminal spaces between sunrise and secrets, between rumor, shadows, and lies. Strings that pulled all this together. All you had to do was find the seam and unravel it. Or rip it apart.
As he got out of the SUV, he noticed a van with Indiana plates parked near the entrance. Titus paused midstep. He should have known she was coming no matter what he said.
Titus sighed. That was Kellie’s SOP. Ask for forgiveness rather than ask for permission. Of course, this was America; she didn’t need his permission to come to the Old Dominion. He just wished she had listened this one time.
“And if wishes were horses, beggars would ride,” he mumbled to himself as he entered the station.
She was standing near the switchboard talking to Carla while Davy, Steve, and another man looked on. Davy had more stars in his eyes than the Andromeda galaxy.
Kellie had that effect on some people.
“Oh, hey, boss. We were just talking to your friend here,” Carla said. Davy started to inexplicably turn red around his ears.
“Boss? Do you make them call you that, Virginia?” Kellie asked. She looked at him over her shoulder, long dark auburn hair spilling down her back like the colors of autumn personified. He knew under that mane, under that leather jacket she wore, under the shirt was a tattoo that took up most of her back. It was a medieval castle with the words DOUBT THOU THE STARS ARE FIRE across her shoulder blades and NEVER DOUBT I LOVE across the small of her back. Kellie loved Shakespeare. He remembered kissing those words in the dark. Her voice husky with something deeper than desire as she whispered one word over and over.
“Harder.”
Titus blinked his eyes furiously behind his shades. He told himself it was the shock of seeing her in the flesh again after two years that ignited that reverie in his mind. He took off his hat and forced himself to not pause as he walked over to Kellie and her audience.
“I don’t make anyone say anything. That’s not how this office works,” Titus said.
Kellie smiled at him. “Titus Crown is never one to overstep his authority,” Kellie said with a wink.
He took a deep breath.
She still smoked, but not recently. She knew he hated it, so if his nose was correct, she’d forgone her morning cig. But the pack she had smoked yesterday still claimed its place on her skin and in her hair. His ego told him she skipped that cigarette specifically for him, but the cop in him said she did it to get close to him to convince him to come on her podcast. He found he didn’t really mind either way. He had to admit it was nice to see her. To hear her musical laugh. He didn’t want her back and he was more than happy with Darlene, but it was still nice seeing Kellie Stoner and her honey-brown eyes all the same.
“That’s right, Ms. Stoner,” Titus said. Kellie raised an eyebrow a second before bursting out with that laugh. He remembered when they would take turns raising an eyebrow at each other.
Except that one time you did overstep, with Red DeCrain. You sure overstepped with that motherfucker, a voice said in hushed tones inside his mind.
“It’s Ms. Stoner now?” Kellie asked. At first, she seemed slightly irritated, then she noticed the slightest curl at the corners of his mouth. “Ohhh, that’s a Titus joke. It’s such a rare occurrence I forgot what it looked like. Like seeing Bigfoot riding the Loch Ness monster.”
“Did y’all really used to go out?” Davy said. It came out in a burst of syllables, like he’d been holding it in for months.
“Let’s go in my office. After I talk to Kellie we’ll meet, okay?” Titus said. Carla and Davy nodded.
“I mean, it’s none of my business, I was just curious, I mean, really—” Davy babbled.
“You’re right. It’s none of your business,” Titus said.
“Year and a half. We dated for nearly two years, then Titus went home. He did do me the honor of breaking up in person. You know you left your Luke Cage T-shirt at my place? I used it for a pillowcase for a long time.” Kellie said. She smiled, but it never got past her cheeks. It never got close to her honey-dipped eyes.
Titus felt his heart flutter in his chest. He cleared his throat. “Um, we can talk in my office,” he said. He started to put his hand on the small of her back to guide her toward the door, then stopped himself. He pulled his hand back like he was about to touch a hot stove.
“Yes, sir, boss. By the way, are those your party cuffs or your work ones?” she said. She saluted him, then laughed again.
Titus didn’t say another word, but headed for the office. When she and the man following her with puppy-dog eyes were seated, Titus tossed his hat on its hook and took his seat on the opposite side of the desk.
“You can’t say stuff like that in front of my team.”
“Stuff like what? You mean the handcuffs thing? Jesus, Virginia, it was just a joke. We are all adults here,” Kellie said. She chuckled a bit, and Titus knew she wanted to say something else sarcastic. Then he would chastise her, then she’d say another sarcastic statement, then, if this were the old days, they would find themselves pressed against each other as she pinned him against the wall.
But this wasn’t the old days.
“Speaking of adults, you haven’t introduced me to your friend,” Titus said.
“Oh, this is Hector. Hector, this is Sheriff Titus Crown, former special agent for the FBI Fort Wayne Office,” Kellie said. Hector held out his hand and Titus took it firmly but not with any type of aggression. Hector tried to match his grip, failed, then pulled his hand away.
“Good to meet you, Sheriff. I do all the sound for the podcast.”
“Where’s your equipment?” Titus asked.
“Oh yeah, it’s in the van. Kellie said—”
“I said let’s just stop by, because if I called you and asked for a time for an interview, you’d put me off till Judgment Day,” Kellie said.
Titus took off his shades. “You would have been right. We have a lot going on, not just the Spearman case.”