Between Black and White (McMurtrie and Drake Legal Thrillers #2)(96)
Bo had forgotten about Helen Lewis. He had forgotten about the gun Maggie Walton was pointing at him. I have to know . . .
“Roosevelt threatened my family. That is something that you do not do.”
“How? How could my daddy threaten you? Sitting in your big house on the hill. How could a damn field hand threaten you?”
“He threatened me with you, Bocephus,” Maggie hissed. Then without hesitation she lowered the barrel of the gun and fired it.
Bo’s left kneecap exploded with pain, and he crumpled to the ground. As he did, he saw Helen Lewis fire her pistol. Helen’s shot hit Maggie in the shoulder, and she staggered backwards. The next bullet hit Maggie in the stomach, and she lowered the shotgun to her hip, her legs wobbling. She looked like she was about to fall, and Helen lowered her weapon slightly, glancing at Bo. “Are you all—?”
“No, General!” Bo screamed, but he was too late.
Maggie Walton fired the shotgun from her hip, and the district attorney general went down. Helen landed on her back and rolled over on her stomach. Then she stopped moving.
Dead, Bo thought, cradling his destroyed knee in his arms. Another casualty.
“I hate to say I told you so,” Maggie said, chuckling. “That bitch didn’t have it in her to take me out.”
Bo stared at her. Maggie’s white blouse was now stained red on both collarbones, but she was still alive. And she still had the gun.
Gritting his teeth against the pain and placing all of his weight on his right leg, Bo managed to stand. “How could my daddy threaten you with me?” he spat.
Maggie Walton took two steps toward Bo and put the barrel of the gun against Bo’s forehead. Hate shone in her eyes as she spat the words out. “Because he wasn’t your daddy.”
Bo blinked, and his right leg buckled. He fell to his knees and looked down at the brown sand, then back up at Maggie Walton. “What?”
“Roosevelt wasn’t your father. He married Pearl a few months after she got pregnant with you.” Maggie paused, lowering her voice to just above a whisper. “Truth is, Bo, you’ve hated your real daddy all your life.”
Bo raised his eyes from the sand, the truth finally dawning on him. “No,” he whispered.
“Yes,” Maggie spat. “Your daddy was my husband. Andrew Davis Walton. Imperial Wizard of the Tennessee Knights of the Ku Klux Klan. Andy had an affair with your momma, and you were the result. You ask me why I hate you. I’ve wanted you dead from the moment you breathed air.”
Despite the unbearable pain in his kneecap, Bo felt numb all over. His arms hung limp from his sides as he stared up at Maggie Walton. “Why didn’t you have me killed as a baby then?”
“Because your daddy wouldn’t let me,” Maggie said, her teeth clinched together in anger. “Andy owned up to what he had done, but he would not kill his own son.” Maggie laughed, but the bitterness in the sound was palpable. “How’s that for irony? You have hated Andy Walton your whole life, and he is the only reason you have lived as long as you have. The minute I put Andy out of his misery, I began to plan your death. At first I wanted the state to do it. I would have gotten so much satisfaction out of watching you put to death for the murder of your own father. But Helen couldn’t get it done, and Ray Ray stopped my hired gun from doing it, so now I guess I’m just going to have to do it myself.”
She took a step back and raised the shotgun at him.
“Why did Andy kill Da—?” Bo paused, closing his eyes. “Roosevelt?” he corrected himself. “Why did Andy kill Roosevelt?”
“Roosevelt came up to the house and said he wanted money for your upbringing. Said it wasn’t fair for the son of Andy Walton to be brought up dirt poor, and that everyone was going to know the truth if we didn’t start giving them a stipend.” She paused. “Greedy meddling nigger. I told Andy that he had to get rid of Roosevelt, and that he could think of it as a birthday present to me.” She shrugged, squinting at Bo. “Truth was Andy was glad to kill Roosevelt. What bothered him was that you saw. Can you believe that? He was worried about you.”
Bo looked up at Maggie Walton. He was beginning to get dizzy, and he blinked his eyes. He was bleeding profusely from his kneecap, and he figured he was about to pass out from blood loss.
“My momma?” Bo asked. “What happened to my momma?”
Maggie squinted at him and lowered her voice to just above a whisper. “She’s right behind you, Bocephus.”
Bo wrinkled his face in confusion and turned his head toward the pond.
“Andy was so upset when he learned that I killed his nigger whore,” Maggie continued, her voice even softer. “I stabbed her with a butcher knife. Then I took her body down to one of Andy’s lumber yards and had her corpse incinerated.” She paused. “I spread her ashes on the pond behind you.”
Bo closed his eyes. His momma hadn’t left him. She hadn’t disappeared. The monster had killed her too.
He had no further questions.
“You spent your whole life chasing revenge against Andy,” Maggie said, raising her voice.
Bo knew he was about to die. He kept his eyes closed and thought about Jazz. And T. J. and Lila. His own upbringing had been a lie, but theirs had not been. They were real. And they’ll be better off without me, he thought.