Scarlet Angel (Mindf*ck #3)(41)
“The whole town is too scared to speak,” Donny says, watching as people read the message on the street and walk away, their steps hurrying like they’re going to carry home a piece of devil if they dawdle too long.
Donny gestures to the road we need to turn on, and stops me when we’re in front of a small, white house. It even has a fucking white picket fence.
“Cross your fingers this one doesn’t slam the door on our faces too,” Donny says as he climbs out.
I hop out as well, straightening my tie, and we walk up the cracked sidewalk to the house. The blinds by the front window crack open, and all I get is a glimpse of an eye before they seal shut again.
Donny raises his hand to knock, but the woman opens the door, staring at us like she’s been expecting us all day.
“You the FBI?”
“Yes, ma’am. We’re here to—”
“I know what you’re here for. You work for that Johnson guy?”
My lips twitch. “We have different agendas. Mine includes getting the truth about what happened here ten years ago. We may be able to save lives if we know more.”
Her lips tense. “Ain’t a life you can save that needs saving,” she says bitterly. “This whole town needs to burn. Only reason I’m still here is because I knew this day would eventually come. One day, someone would want to hear them babies’ story, and finally give them justice.”
Donny swallows hard as the woman wipes her tears away.
“Come on,” she says, gesturing us in.
Donny shuts the door behind him, and Diana points to the couch where she apparently wants us to sit.
“I can’t tell you everything. You’ll need to learn about Robert from someone who knows all those details. But I can tell you about my babies. They were good to my son. Always good.”
She takes a seat in her chair, and she pulls out her phone.
“Any information you could give us at all would be helpful,” I tell her, my gut tensing at the prospect of finally having answers and wondering just how fucked up things are about to get.
We wait patiently while she calls someone.
“Hey, baby. Nah, I’m fine,” she says to…her boyfriend? Her kid? No wedding ring or men’s belongings around, so not a husband.
“You still dating that pretty lawyer lady? The one with all the security at her apartment building?”
She eyes us, as she listens to the person on the other line.
“Good. Go stay with her until I tell you otherwise. Momma’s about to tell a story that’s been burning a hole for over ten years.”