Prelude (An Alec Winters Series, Book 1) Page 4

  Even drunk, Buck was too big, too strong to best, but Alec was obstinate and refused to give up. The last time his dad batted him away, Alec landed on his butt halfway across the room. Temporarily free, Buck tried once again to grab Catalina, but the terrified girl darted out of his reach.

  Angered beyond reason now, Alec leapt to his feet. He ran head-on at Buck, roaring in rage as the new vine produced its initial bloom. The bloom burst forth into the first fiery flames of vengeance filling Alec with untold power and authority.

  When Buck heard the loud, unnerving bellows that seemed to shake the home’s very foundation, he finally turned around to look at his attacker. With that one gaze, the drunken fool fell backwards onto Cat’s bed. Terrorized and quaking, he defensively put up his hands to ward off the attacker. Then, he covered his face in an attempt to hide from what he saw.

  “Oh, dear God in heaven, heavenly Father, have mercy on me,” Buck shrieked in horror. Then, suddenly appearing sober, he continued to pray, “I’m a wretched sinner, an evil man. I didn’t know I fought with your mighty devil, Beelzebub. I’m sorry, Father. I didn’t know you’d sent your devil to stop me. I know it’s wrong to desire my own daughter, to force her. I won’t do it again. I won’t touch her again. Please, I’ll stop now. I’ll never touch her again. Please, please take your hellish red-eyed devil away, I beg you! Take this nightmare demon away from me! I swear on my very life, I’ll never touch her again, please, please, please. I beg you!” Buck, frightened beyond reason by what he saw, blathered on and cried for some time. Next, he tightly closed his eyes to avoid the horrifying sight of the eight-foot red monster towering over him.

  When Alec heard Buck’s ramblings, he halted his planned attack with one foot still off the floor. His father appeared to be experiencing some kind of alcohol-induced hallucination. Buck wailed out pitifully, quaking in fear, but Alec couldn’t determine what caused that reaction. His father struggled to breathe and panted as if running for his life. As Alec listened to Buck’s continual prayers, he felt a small bit of mercy for the old bastard and tried to reach out to him.

  “What’s wrong with you, Dad?” Alec asked. “Can you hear me?”

  “Bless me father for I have sinned, forgive my erring ways…,” Buck muttered as he recited every prayer and catechism response he’d ever learned as a boy in Catholic school. Soon, the words Buck spoke became gibberish and unintelligible.

  “What’s wrong with you, old man?” Alec asked again with true concern as he leaned over his father. Buck, keeping his eyes tightly shut, didn’t respond, so Alec shook his shoulder a little.

  “Sssst,” Buck hissed when the demon’s fiery hand touched him. He sharply sucked in his breath as if scalded. Even that slight contact from the messenger of hell burned through his shirt and skin to the bone. He wanted to jerk away from the searing pain and heat, but now, he was too weak, too petrified to move even a fraction of an inch.

  “Dad, can you hear me?”

  Buck still didn’t answer. He couldn’t. He heard another message, a terrifying edict. The words Alec spoke were lost on the man as the intonation of the beast roared with the voice of a thousand mighty celestial beings, all filled with rage—all, disgusted by Buck’s perverted actions. Adding their voices to the chorus, the message was clear, “Tonight you will pay!”

  Buck finally opened his eyes to stare up at the demon as its fanged mouth opened wide and the eyes, those terrible crimson eyes, became even more blood red. He took the spoken words to heart certain that he had heard the pronouncement of God. God was angry with him and with good cause. Taking stock of his miserable life as it quickly flashed before his eyes, he knew his punishment was justified. Buck was certain that God would send him straight to hell. The monstrous red devil that towered over him would drag him there personally.

  Buck was sure that neither death nor purgatory would be allowed…not for him. No, there was something special prepared for the likes of him…his human flesh would roast in the eternal flames forever. The heat coming off the fiery demon was merely a reminder of how hot and everlasting those fires were and would always remain.

  The very thought of eternal hellfire caused hot tendrils of terror to encase Buck’s heart, squeezing mercilessly while icy fingers ran up his spine and down his left arm. The years of seeking pleasure through self-abuse, engorging, drinking, and whoring, had finally caught up with him. Buck choked and spluttered as he beheld the monster’s face. After one final gasping breath, the light in Buck’s eyes went out even though the twisted terror was frozen on his face.

  That happened only moments before Catalina slammed the metal base of a lamp into his head. Alec, surprised by his sister’s actions, wasn’t positive but he thought his father died an instant before Catalina hit Buck with the lamp. He’d heard the family elders discuss death’s process on many occasions. He’d heard Buck make a rasping, guttural sound and could only assume it was a ‘death-rattle’ as they’d described.

  “I hope you die, you old bastard!” Catalina screamed before she hit him again, leaving a wide gash across Buck’s brow. Seeing her father terrorized and beaten had renewed her own courage and fortitude. With that righteous indignation, she was no longer a helpless child; though small, she was now an angry young woman. She yelled the things she’d wanted to scream for many months. All the past hate and anxiety poured out in a torrid, sarcastic barrage.

  “How in God’s name could you ever imagine that I wanted you? How could you believe that I asked for it? I hated it. I hated you. I hated this perverted life. I tried to fight you off each time, but you wouldn’t hear. Why didn’t you hear me, daddy? It was rape, you deluded, insane excuse for a man! I wanted to die every time you touched me. God forgive me for praying for this end, but your death is the answer to my prayers. I hope you burn in hell for what you’ve done!”

  Everything in the room grew deathly quiet and still as the two siblings surveyed their father’s destruction. Neither of them breathed. Neither of them moved for several long seconds. Nothing could be said that would take any of it back. There was nothing either Alec or Catalina could do to restore their father or their sense of peace.

  “He’s dead, Cat. He can’t hurt you anymore,” Alec softly advised. He took the lamp from her shaking hands and set it aside.

  Cat never took her eyes off her father’s body. He became a fixed point as she asked, “Are you sure he’s dead, Alec?” Cautiously leaning in, she placed a hand near Buck’s nose and mouth to feel for breath and to confirm it on her own.

  “I’m sure,” Alec gently reassured.

  “Good!” she exclaimed. Triumphant at the news, Cat was glad her father was dead. Only a short moment later, she worried, “What will this mean for us, Alec? What will this mean for mother? Are we in bad trouble?”

  “I can’t honestly say,” Alec whispered.

  She turned toward her brother with worry furrowing her brow, but the look quickly changed to one of awe. Now, in stark contrast to his father’s reaction, his sister sobbed joyfully as she held out her arms and ran the short distance to her brother.

  “Oh, my angel! My bright shining angel! You’ve come to rescue me. Thank you, Lord of All, for answering my prayers! You heard me! I’d almost given up all hope, but here, you’ve sent your beautiful angel to redeem me. You’ve saved me! Wrap me in your wonderful white wings, my angel, and take me from this place. Take me away from here.”

  Alec, stunned by Catalina’s reaction, was speechless. She’d seen him as an angel, while his father saw him as the devil. However, he had little time to react because almost immediately the heavy ‘bang, bang, bang’ of police officers’ fists battered against the front door.

  Chapter 7

  Buck Winters died that night.

  Alec was certain that his father, terrorized by what he’d seen, died of ‘fright.’ He was also sure that Buck’s death was the realization of his own sins. His father’s heart had stopped seconds before Cat hit him with the lamp. The stench of urine fi
lled the air as his last act of contrition. His ugly, drunken face remained frozen in a twisted grimace of unadulterated panic, horror, and dread caused by the last site he’d seen—son, devil, or angel?

  Alec wasn’t sure.

  How could he be both savior and tormentor in the same instance? Catalina had run to him with outstretched arms whereas his father had been terrorized when he looked on his son. It didn’t make any sense at all, at least, none that the seventeen-year-old teenager could make out.

  Police officers use a certain method when they’re called to handle a disturbance. The heavy ‘bang, bang, bang’ of fists made an unnervingly loud ‘boom-boom-boom’ racket on the solid wooden front door. Their thunderous shouts could be heard upstairs, “Police! Open up!” The loud-mouthed cries finally pulled Cassidy out of the trance she’d enjoyed for more than a decade.

  Cassidy stumbled to her feet, went to the door, and after they’d looked through the downstairs, she followed the two officers upstairs. When she saw Buck’s half-naked body laid-out on Catalina’s bed with her son and daughter helplessly standing by, she gasped. Her hand fluttered wildly to her chest fearing her own heart would stop.

  “Is he really dead,” Cassidy asked in a quavering voice as she looked to her son for answers.

  Alec solemnly nodded.

  “Yes ma’am, he’s dead alright,” an officer replied after checking for a pulse.

  While one officer corralled the family back downstairs to the living room, the second police officer cordoned off the area to preserve the crime scene. Then, they called in a report and the waiting began. They waited for a female officer to stay with Catalina. Next, they waited for an ambulance to take her to the hospital. Then, they waited for two senior detectives to arrive. Lastly, they waited for the medical examiner to give a cause of death. During all that time, a steady stream of curious patrolmen filled the house. It didn’t take long for those in charge to stop waiting and start assuming.

  When the first detective, Rodney DeVry, saw evidence of such a violent struggle in Catalina’s bedroom, along with the abrasive choke marks and bruising on the dead man’s neck, he focused the investigation on Alec. An overwhelming amount of evidence pointed to the young man as the murderer. With that glaring proof of guilt and the testimony of neighbors who’d heard the loud disturbance and witnessed Alec’s arrival at the Carrollton Avenue home, the detective didn’t look any further. In his opinion, the son was guilty as sin and DeVry was determined Alec wouldn’t get away with the murder of his father.

  “Listen,” Detective DeVry spouted to the group of officers that remained in the bedroom, “he’s almost eighteen years old. The bastard is large enough at nearly six feet tall and a hundred seventy pounds. With his athletic prowess, he’s fully capable of doing the damage seen in the bedroom and more—especially since Buck Winters reeks of alcohol. The body is practically naked. Alec Winters had the advantage. He attacked and killed his drunken, abusive father. Nothing else to say.”

  “He was protecting his little sister,” one of the officers protested.

  “I don’t think even a young athlete could overpower Buck Winters,” another added. “He’s a bull of a man. I bet he weighs nearly three hundred pounds!”

  “Yeah, how many men do you know that can overpower someone who outweighs them by a hundred pounds? Not many that we know of for sure.”

  “He’s a good kid.” More and more comments filled the hallway, all from the many officers who stood outside the bedroom, kicking imaginary dust off the carpet.

  “He’s the starting quarterback and the reason we had a winning season!”

  “I’ve even heard he’s an honor student. You can’t blame him for defending his little sister! Anyone would do the same!”

  “That doesn’t concern our investigation,” DeVry stubbornly countered.

  “It should,” Detective Abel Boudreaux chided. “We should look at all the evidence before jumping to conclusions.”

  “Hell no!” DeVry heatedly retorted, overly conscious of his low clearance ratings. “I’m not presuming anything or jumping to conclusions. The evidence speaks for itself. It wasn’t self-defense; it was unmitigated murder. It’s the easiest ‘open and shut’ case I’ve snagged in years. And, it is my case!”

  “It’s our case,” Detective Boudreaux countered, but his objections went unanswered.

  In spite of the many murmured protests, DeVry had Alec arrested right then. “You’re going to face punishment as an adult, young man. What do you think about that?” the detective taunted as he smugly glared at Alec. “Read’em his rights and get’em outta here.”

  A young officer handcuffed Alec, as he repeated the Miranda rights, “Alexander Saguache Winters, you have the right to remain silent; anything you say can and will be used against you in court; you have the right to an attorney and to have that attorney present during questioning. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed to you. Do you understand?”

  Alec nodded.

  “Speak up!” DeVry ordered.

  “I understand,” Alec dutifully said.

  Chapter 8

  At police headquarters, Alec was booked. He verified his address and other pertinent information was correct on his driver’s license. He was fingerprinted and his picture taken. After these steps, he was led to an interrogation room. On the way, Danaé Chisholm suddenly appeared.

  “What’s going on, Alec?” she asked in surprise. “What are you doing here?’

  “He has the right to remain silent, Missy,” the gruff booking sergeant replied.

  “Oh, I see,” Danaé responded while taking in the full scene. “I guess he can listen though, right?” She didn’t wait for a response and continued, “Don’t worry, Alec. I’m here to get my father out of the drunk-tank, but as soon as we’re finished, I’ll get you some help. I’ll let your family and friends know.”

  “Thanks, Danaé,” Alec glumly replied.

  “Chin up, Alec, and don’t worry. Really, your grandfather told me to remind you that everything will be all right.” That news might’ve been comforting if his grandfather was alive, but he wasn’t. He’d been dead for many years. Alec dismissed the comment and tried hard to stave off the dire thoughts of his future.

  In the interrogation room, Alec readily disclosed that he had tried to stop his father from raping his sister, but denied killing him. He gave every detail he could remember, but he didn’t mention that he was the cause of Buck’s fright. He didn’t mention Catalina’s reaction either. He knew the men around him would never understand that part of his story…He didn’t fully understand it either. He listened to all the accusations thrown at him and refused to confess to a crime he didn’t physically commit. He obstinately held to the only statement he could make, “I didn’t kill my father. I protected my sister.”

  “There isn’t any physical evidence that your sister was in imminent danger or that your father had ever raped her,” DeVry argued.

  “She’s at the hospital now,” Alec softly responded. “There will be evidence.”

  “How do you think that’s going to help you?” DeVry sarcastically allowed. “If you know this with certainty, how long were you aware of his abuse? Did you use that knowledge to plan his murder on this very night? Was this premeditated?”

  “No, I didn’t know that my father abused my sister until tonight.”

  “If that’s the case, we have to consider that your father didn’t attack you first. This wasn’t self-defense. Even if he had molested her for months, you weren’t under attack from him. Besides, she might have encouraged him…pretty little thing like that…no one knows for sure whether or not she enticed him to her bedroom.”

  “That’s a terrible thing to say!” Alec stormed, nearly losing his resolve to stay calm. “Are you out of your mind? She’s a child…Are you suggesting that she seduced him! Do you think she is responsible for his deviant behavior?”

  “I’m suggesting that you initiated this,” DeVry nervously
sidestepped the question, avoiding a very slippery slope. “The smart thing to do was to call the police, but you took matters and justice into your own hands. You became the judge and jury. We don’t much care for vigilante justice in Nawlins.”

  “No,” Alec said, “you only care about your clearance rate. You don’t care about the truth.”

  “You’re the tough-guy, but you smart-alecky types always get what’s coming to you. Let’s see how smart and tough you are when you go to jail for murder. You’re only a few weeks shy of eighteen and I’m going to make sure you’re tried as an adult. No juvie hall for you!”

  The intimidation tactics might’ve worked if Alec hadn’t caught a whiff of the vanilla-scented tobacco his Grandfather Saguache had always smoked. The aroma seemed to permeate the room as if his grandfather stood beside him. Did he really tell Danaé that everything would be all right? Alec wondered. Is it possible that I’m not alone? Remembering his ancestral heritage gave Alec renewed courage and hope. A feeling of deep calm settled on the young man, reminding him that more than five generations stood behind him.

  “I’ll go to trial and take my chances in court,” Alec quietly contended.

  Alec spent the first night in lock-up. His arraignment would take place the following day at three o’clock. If anyone of his friends or family worked to help him, he’d find out the details then. He didn’t expect an outpouring of support. What could his mother do? She was practically useless. What could Cat or Sabrina do? To the authorities, they were only children.