Knock Out
Page 118
- Background:
- Text Font:
- Text Size:
- Line Height:
- Line Break Height:
- Frame:
“‘A community of the elect’?” Ethan raised a brow. “I don’t see that Caldicot has any extraordinary powers. And all these people here, are they being taught something, or are they being used? You have gathered so much money and power by putting your sons to use that you can convince these people to do just about anything, at least for a while. How long do people stay here, Mr. Backman? How long before they realize there is nothing here for them?”
“Are you quite done, Sheriff? I don’t care for your sarcasm. This is where I choose to be. I’m safe here, and I come and go as I please. That old barn is set a good half-mile from the county road, a road that few drive.”
“If everyone here is free to leave, then why did Autumn see your family burying people in the family cemetery?”
The old man’s eyes held a momentary look of regret, and then he let it go. “Two of our visitors—not worthy of us, a rare mistake by Caldicot—threatened to expose us unless we paid them. It was a grave decision, not arrived at easily, but they were not as important as Twilight. I had to protect our secrecy, no matter what. Kjell had to remove them, unfortunately. It has been a difficult time for me, Sheriff.”
“And just how did Grace and Blessed find Autumn?”
“Ah, that was a simple matter for Caldicot. He is a clever man. He knew Joanna lived in Boston. All he had to do was look up my poor Martin’s obituary, and there was her maiden name. With that and what she and Autumn had told us, it required only a few well-placed phone calls to search out her family and friends, and her connection to Titusville, Virginia.
“Now, Sheriff, I have answered your questions. I have an offer for you. You will leave here alive and the woman with you if she wishes, if you convince Autumn to remain with her family. She will not suffer; she will come to be happy here, I promise you. She will be with her family, and I always protect what is mine.”
69
SUDDENLY THEODORE LOWERED his face in his hands a moment and whispered through his fingers, “But I couldn’t protect poor Blessed.” He raised his head. “My firstborn is not possessed of an agile mind. It was foolhardy of him to follow you into the Titus Hitch Wilderness. He should have waited for a better time. But he could not conceive of failing—he and Grace had never failed before, at anything we asked them to do.
“And now Grace is dead. The two of them were always so very close, in their minds, in their hearts.” Theodore raised his head. “You took part of my family, Sheriff; you owe me Autumn to pay for what you’ve done to me.”
Ethan smiled at the profane old man. “You’re worried Blessed will never be able to stymie anyone again, isn’t that right, Theo?”
Theodore slammed his fist onto his throne arm. “You will call me Father or Mr. Backman!”
He sighed, then straightened, trying, Ethan thought, to look like a monarch rather than a pathetic old man. His hands fisted, making the veins ride high under his parchment skin.
He said, pride bursting in his voice, “Whatever happens, it is my granddaughter who did it to him. With no direction from anyone, with no training, with no understanding at all, this little seven-year-old girl simply pulled it out of herself. Did she destroy his power? Wipe it out of him forever? I hope not. But this child is amazing. Blessed was helpless against her. She is her father’s daughter, my own granddaughter. Ah, Martin, another tragedy. I wonder what he would have achieved if he’d only remained with me in Bricker’s Bowl.”
“Why did he leave, Mr. Backman?”
“He was a boy, and he did not understand that with our gifts the Backmans behave as we choose, we are not bound by ordinary rules. We fought, always fought. One evening he said I was crazy, that I was using him, and I lost my temper and beat him. It never occurred to me that he would leave, but he did, and that was his choice. That left Grace and Blessed with us, and now only Blessed. I believe Autumn can help him. What she took she can give back. She must stay, Sheriff. Do you wish to live? Do you wish Autumn’s mother to live? If so, you must convince the child to stay here, with her grandfather, with her uncle.”
Ethan said, “Listen to me, sir, you must. You believe her mother and I can convince Autumn to stay. But Autumn doesn’t want to be here, and when she meets you, I doubt she’ll be leaping into your lap. She loves her mother, and if you harm me or her mother, she will never trust you, and she will find a way to leave, or to do you in. You must let her go.”
Theodore’s old voice was shrill. “You will listen to me, Sheriff. I have lost too much to let her go. No, Sheriff. The child will not leave Twilight.”
“Are you quite done, Sheriff? I don’t care for your sarcasm. This is where I choose to be. I’m safe here, and I come and go as I please. That old barn is set a good half-mile from the county road, a road that few drive.”
“If everyone here is free to leave, then why did Autumn see your family burying people in the family cemetery?”
The old man’s eyes held a momentary look of regret, and then he let it go. “Two of our visitors—not worthy of us, a rare mistake by Caldicot—threatened to expose us unless we paid them. It was a grave decision, not arrived at easily, but they were not as important as Twilight. I had to protect our secrecy, no matter what. Kjell had to remove them, unfortunately. It has been a difficult time for me, Sheriff.”
“And just how did Grace and Blessed find Autumn?”
“Ah, that was a simple matter for Caldicot. He is a clever man. He knew Joanna lived in Boston. All he had to do was look up my poor Martin’s obituary, and there was her maiden name. With that and what she and Autumn had told us, it required only a few well-placed phone calls to search out her family and friends, and her connection to Titusville, Virginia.
“Now, Sheriff, I have answered your questions. I have an offer for you. You will leave here alive and the woman with you if she wishes, if you convince Autumn to remain with her family. She will not suffer; she will come to be happy here, I promise you. She will be with her family, and I always protect what is mine.”
69
SUDDENLY THEODORE LOWERED his face in his hands a moment and whispered through his fingers, “But I couldn’t protect poor Blessed.” He raised his head. “My firstborn is not possessed of an agile mind. It was foolhardy of him to follow you into the Titus Hitch Wilderness. He should have waited for a better time. But he could not conceive of failing—he and Grace had never failed before, at anything we asked them to do.
“And now Grace is dead. The two of them were always so very close, in their minds, in their hearts.” Theodore raised his head. “You took part of my family, Sheriff; you owe me Autumn to pay for what you’ve done to me.”
Ethan smiled at the profane old man. “You’re worried Blessed will never be able to stymie anyone again, isn’t that right, Theo?”
Theodore slammed his fist onto his throne arm. “You will call me Father or Mr. Backman!”
He sighed, then straightened, trying, Ethan thought, to look like a monarch rather than a pathetic old man. His hands fisted, making the veins ride high under his parchment skin.
He said, pride bursting in his voice, “Whatever happens, it is my granddaughter who did it to him. With no direction from anyone, with no training, with no understanding at all, this little seven-year-old girl simply pulled it out of herself. Did she destroy his power? Wipe it out of him forever? I hope not. But this child is amazing. Blessed was helpless against her. She is her father’s daughter, my own granddaughter. Ah, Martin, another tragedy. I wonder what he would have achieved if he’d only remained with me in Bricker’s Bowl.”
“Why did he leave, Mr. Backman?”
“He was a boy, and he did not understand that with our gifts the Backmans behave as we choose, we are not bound by ordinary rules. We fought, always fought. One evening he said I was crazy, that I was using him, and I lost my temper and beat him. It never occurred to me that he would leave, but he did, and that was his choice. That left Grace and Blessed with us, and now only Blessed. I believe Autumn can help him. What she took she can give back. She must stay, Sheriff. Do you wish to live? Do you wish Autumn’s mother to live? If so, you must convince the child to stay here, with her grandfather, with her uncle.”
Ethan said, “Listen to me, sir, you must. You believe her mother and I can convince Autumn to stay. But Autumn doesn’t want to be here, and when she meets you, I doubt she’ll be leaping into your lap. She loves her mother, and if you harm me or her mother, she will never trust you, and she will find a way to leave, or to do you in. You must let her go.”
Theodore’s old voice was shrill. “You will listen to me, Sheriff. I have lost too much to let her go. No, Sheriff. The child will not leave Twilight.”
