Simply Lies

Chapter 68

After finishing her call with Jan Roberts, Gibson just stared at the screen for a long time wondering what to do.

She believed she had just received confirmation that Clarisse was none other than Francine Langhorne. And her mother, Agnes Geraldine Langhorne (Leland), had gone missing from an assisted living facility in South Carolina, a facility in which perhaps the daughter had placed her mother. Had someone kidnapped her? Someone who wanted to gain leverage over the daughter? Maybe to ensure that they would get all or part of the treasure? Because it seemed like everyone was motivated by that goal.

Maybe me included, since I don’t have a job right now and I’ve got two kids to feed, clothe, and take care of.

Sam Trask’s words came rushing back to her, so she finally picked up that phone and called the woman.

“Yes?” said Clarisse, not sounding like herself.

“Did something else happen?” asked Gibson. “After you left my place?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Can we just cut the shit, please? We both have a lot to lose here.” Gibson paused and steeled herself for what she was about to say because, if she was right, it was going to be a tsunami for the woman, and she had no idea how Clarisse would react. “For God’s sake, they kidnapped your mother, Francine.”

Gibson had not turned on her stress analyzer app. She didn’t have to. She was a daughter. She had a mother. And if what had happened to Francine’s mother had happened to hers? She would be out of her mind with worry.

The woman said nothing. All Gibson could hear was elevated breathing.

“I put two and two together, Francine. I’m good at that, which I guess is why you brought me into this. I just found out your mother’s name was Agnes, coupled with what you let slip about—”

“Okay, okay, you’re fucking Sherlock Holmes!”

The call cut off.

Ten minutes went by and Gibson did nothing except stare at the phone. Come on, come on, I can help you. I really can. I want to help you.

When it rang she nearly fell out of her chair.

“I’m sorry about that,” said a now-composed Clarisse.

“I’m sorry I dumped all over you like that,” replied Gibson. “I just didn’t know if we had time to waste. Do you have any idea where your mother is? Have they made contact? Do you know who it is?”

“Can you get away?”

“Yes.”

“Meet me at this address in an hour.”

Gibson wrote down the address of a restaurant in Newport News, clicked off, quickly changed her clothes, and headed out after checking in with Silva and the kids.

She took great pains to make sure she was not followed. When Gibson pulled up in her van there was a woman standing out front. She had on a hat and sunglasses. She walked over to the van and held up her hand.

Gibson unlocked the door and Francine Langhorne climbed in.

Francine took off her glasses and said, “You’re right, we don’t have time to waste.”

“Okay.”

“You want to drive while we talk? I don’t like sitting here exposed.”

Gibson put the van in gear and headed off.

“Have they made contact?” asked Gibson.

“She’s made contact twice.”

“ ‘She’?”

“Rochelle Enders.”

Gibson looked puzzled for a moment. “Wait, is that RE?”

Francine nodded. “We were in Albuquerque together. Her family was in WITSEC, too. They lived right across the street.”

“And BD? Bruce Dixon?”

“He and Rochelle dated some back then. Rochelle broke it off, I never knew why. Then Bruce’s father died, and he and his mom left WITSEC.” She looked over at Gibson. “Rochelle killed Bruce. I don’t know the reason. She stole his identity as Daryl Oxblood to rent the van she used to take my mother from the facility in Greenville. She didn’t have to kill him. She really didn’t.”

“And she killed your father, too?”

“She denied it. And she never denied anything if she had done it. Love her or hate her, she took responsibility for what she did.”

“But who could have killed him then?”

“I was going to kill him when I got to Stormfield that night. Then I found him dead, and saw the phrase on the wall.”

“ ‘Do as I say, not as I do’? What was that about?”

“It’s what my father always said. But he meant it in a different way than normal.”

“You’re going to have to explain that.”

“We always had to do exactly what he said. They were commands, not parental advice.”

“So if she didn’t kill him, whoever did would have known that?”

“Yes.”

“Could it be your brother?” Gibson said, watching her carefully.

“Doug’s with Rochelle.”

“But I thought you and your brother left together. That he waited for you to turn eighteen.”

“He was actually waiting for Rochelle to turn eighteen, not me. He loved her. I did go with them initially. Rochelle and I just never saw eye to eye. I’m not like her and she’s not like me. But... we all endured shit that maybe allowed us to form a bond, at least for a while. Then she... made it clear I was not wanted.”

“What sort of shit?” Gibson said slowly. “And just so you know, I read the story about your father molesting little girls from your old neighborhood in New Jersey.”

Francine dropped her gaze. “Mr. Enders and my dad became really good friends. They each told the other about their backgrounds and why they were in WITSEC. They formed a bond around that. Mr. Enders had been a hit man for some Mexican cartel and then got nailed. So he flipped to keep himself out of prison and went into WITSEC with his family. Rochelle was an only child. Her father was scum; the guy had even killed little kids when working for the cartel. So of course he and my father got along great. We weren’t supposed to tell anyone about who we really were, but they didn’t give a crap about that. They just... rolled with whatever they wanted to do.”

“When you were little, did your father...?”

“I think he wanted to. I mean, he acted really... weird around me, and Dougie. But... my mother...”

“She protected you both?”

“Yes. For the only time in her life.”

“When you were older and living in New Mexico, did your father and Ender abuse you and Rochelle?”

Now Francine looked up. “In some ways it was worse.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You ever read Oliver Twist?”

“I’ve heard of it of course, but I never read it.”

“It’s about a gang of street criminals, mostly kids. Oliver Twist becomes one. The leader of the pack is Jack Dawkins, nicknamed the Artful Dodger. He was trained by an old guy named Fagin.”

“I’m not following.”

“My father and Enders went into business selling product — and Rochelle and I were the product. They pimped us out to anybody with money. And for the rich assholes, they secretly filmed the stuff. And then they blackmailed the shit out of them. And the rich assholes all paid. Because we were way, way underage. And we were expected to steal whatever we could from the men while we were with them. If we came home empty-handed, we got beaten.”

“Holy shit!”

“I slept with my first man at age thirteen. They even tried to pimp Dougie out, but he was too big and strong by then. He wouldn’t do it.”

“Then why didn’t he stop them?”

“You never knew my father. It wasn’t a matter of muscle. It was a matter of mind games. Of intimidation. Of putting you in mortal fear of your life. And no one was better at that than our old man. He ripped off the mob. Teenagers were not a challenge. My brother knew if he tried to stand up to him, Dad would’ve killed me and Rochelle without a second thought.”

“And where was your mother in all of this?”

“Drunk and stoned. I think she had given up by then.”

“I heard about what he did to knock you out of being in the school play.”

She slid back her shirtsleeve to reveal a long scar. “That was in addition to him screwing me out of starring in Twelfth Night. And the cat I brought home that pissed him off? He burned it alive, right in front of me.”

“Oh my God.”

“God never came around to my house while all that was happening.”

Gibson watched as two large tears fell onto Francine’s cheeks. She pulled the van over and gripped Francine’s hand. “I’m so sorry you had to deal with all that... horror.”

“It made me stronger in some ways. And totally blew me up in others. And you see the result.”

“And Rochelle’s mother?”

“She finally just bugged out, leaving Rochelle to fend for herself. FYI, I hate my mother. And I pity my mother. And I guess as the years went by the pity became stronger than the hate.”

“So you took care of her?”

“There were no happy times with my father. There were happy times with my mother. If he hadn’t been in the picture, things would have been far different. For all of us. Yes, she had her issues, the booze, and the drugs, but they were almost all because of him. So when I was old enough and had enough money, I found her and put her in assisted living.”

“Couldn’t you have gone to the US Marshals Service? They could have made all this stop, surely.”

Francine glared at her. “Are you joking? The local marshals were in on it.”

“What!”

“My dad offered me up to them. That way he got special privileges. They let him and Enders do whatever they wanted.”

“What were their names?”

“One’s dead. The other guy’s in Norfolk now.”

“Not Earl Beckett?”

“That’s him. I got into his office when I was working on the cleaning detail for the federal building.” She slid out a thumb drive from her bag. “And got this.”

“There was no way he put any of that on a government computer,” said Gibson.

“No, but they had a file on my father that I thought might be helpful. And, more importantly, I wanted to find out who else Beckett had guarded since.”

“Did you get a list?”

“Yeah, but I haven’t started checking it yet.”

“You could have gone to the police, the school principal, somebody, Francine. Isn’t there anyone that could have helped you back then?”

“My father was all about the details, so he had already thought of that. I have my mountains of notebooks, so I guess I take after him in that way. Anyway, no one knew he was Harry Langhorne who had been accused of pedophilia back in Jersey. He and Enders spread rumors, through the cops, the schools, our pediatricians even, that we made shit up. That Rochelle and I couldn’t be trusted. My father and Rochelle’s dad even made us write up confessions saying it was all a lie just in case somebody suspected. They threatened to kill us if we didn’t.”

Francine focused on a photograph taped to the dash of Gibson’s kids. Next to it was a note that had a round face beside a large heart with the word “Mom” in childish scrawl.

“I can never have kids because of how forced sex at that age hurt me physically.” She sighed and sat back. “Rochelle had it even worse. I don’t know everything they did to her.”

“Why was she treated differently?”

“Because she wouldn’t cry. All the stuff they did to her, she refused to cry. And she wouldn’t beg them to stop. That pissed them off beyond belief. I guess I was the weak one. I cried, and I begged. Not that it did much good.”

Gibson sat back and looked at her with a conflicted expression. Francine noted this and said, “You don’t believe me?”

“I want to, but—”

“—but I’m a liar. A good one. Yeah, I know. Well, it doesn’t really matter if you believe me or not, does it?”

“But why involve me?” said Gibson. “You said you knew about me when I was a cop.”

“It was before then. At Temple.”

“Were you a student?”

“No. I worked in the cafeteria, and at odd jobs on campus. I also helped with the theater productions. I did that for free because... well, I liked it.”

“Why did you say I had everything and then I just pissed it away? I had to work my ass off for everything. I didn’t come from money, Francine.”

“I wasn’t talking about money.” She glanced at her. “Basketball star, the lead in all of those plays, a loving family. I would watch all of you walk around campus when they came to visit. There goes Mickey Rogers, the baddest badass on campus. You were a rock star. Everybody just... loved you. I... never knew how that felt. So, in my mind, you had it all. I thought you were going to be a pro basketball star, or rock the boards on Broadway.”

“But I never did because I wasn’t good enough, Francine. Playing ball in college and being in college theater is way different from doing it at the next level. The funnel gets really, really narrow.”

“I wanted you to try. I wanted—”

“—to live vicariously through me?”

“Pathetic, I know. But I didn’t have a whole lot else going on.”

“And baiting me into all this?”

“I’ll tell you the truth, though you probably won’t believe it.” She paused and looked directly at Gibson. “I wanted to kick your ass. I wanted to find the treasure before you did, even with all your resources at ProEye. You had failed at life, at least I saw it that way. But if I could beat you. If I could show the world that—”

“—that you were the real rock star, and, what, everybody would love you?” Gibson stared grimly at her. She pointed at the car seats in the back. “I made the choices in my life. I got married and had kids because that’s what I wanted. I don’t owe you or anybody else an explanation because it’s nobody’s fucking business but mine. So you waited all these years and decided to blow my life up and put my kids in danger all so you could feel, what, good about yourself? That is pathetic.”

Francine didn’t shrink under these harsh words. She simply nodded. “You’re right. Everything you just said is true. I’m a pathetic loser. You hate me and you should hate me.” She opened the van door. “I will take care of this. I’ll get Trask off your case. I’ll find the treasure and that will be that. So you’ll be good to go.”

“You can’t guarantee any of that.”

“Nothing in life is guaranteed. But I’ll do my best.”

Gibson’s tone softened. “Look, I know you’ve had a shitty life. And I’m sorry for that. If that had happened to me, I’d probably be in an institution.”

“I have been in an institution, and I wouldn’t recommend it,” said Francine bluntly.

Gibson stiffened at this. “What about your mother?”

“Once I have the treasure, I can buy her freedom.”

“And Earl Beckett?”

“What about him?”

“Does he just get away with this?”

“I can’t do anything about the people he’s already hurt, but I’m going to do my best to stop him from hurting anybody else.”

“So if you didn’t kill your father, and Rochelle didn’t kill him? Doug?”

“No, Doug wouldn’t do that, not without Rochelle knowing.”

“Did Beckett know about the phrase, ‘Do as I say...’?”

“Sure. He used to lord that over us, too.”

“Beckett said your father got away cleanly, as though he had help.”

“I suppose so, yes.”

“Could his help have been Beckett?”

Francine shot her a glance. “Why would he do that?”

“For a piece of the treasure?”

Francine closed the van door, fully reengaged. “You think?”

“And then your father did what he always did. He screwed the guy. But Beckett strikes me as one tenacious bastard. He kept looking. And he found the man. And he killed the man.”

“If we could only prove that.”

Gibson sat back and looked thoughtful. “The only thing I can’t figure is that phrase was written by two different people. Which means if Beckett killed him, he might not be working alone.”

“What about Wilson Sullivan?”

Gibson nodded. “It could be. I could find nothing on the guy past twenty years ago.”

“That’s interesting,” said Francine.

“And it was Sullivan who brought Beckett into this thing. Maybe that was by design if they both killed him. And now they want the treasure. And you found Sullivan looking for it at Stormfield. We also have Nathan Trask out there. He expects the two of us to find it. Or else.”

“Like I said, I’ll take care of Trask.”

“But you can just walk away from that. Claim you never found it.”

Surprisingly, Francine shook her head. “I wasn’t lying when I told you the sorts of crimes that Trask and my father were involved in. Sex trafficking of minors was a big one. They killed a bunch of them in San Antonio to keep them from testifying. That’s why I went to Trask in the first place. I wanted to nail him. I didn’t care about the money or the commission he might pay. I just don’t want them to hurt any more kids.”

Gibson sat back, looking conflicted.

Francine noted this and said, “I’m a bad person, Mickey. I’ve committed crimes. I’ve hurt people. But... I don’t like men who do shit to kids and get away with it.”

“It took iron balls to voluntarily go in and meet with that psycho,” said Gibson. “When his goons snatched me I’ve never been more afraid in my life.”

“I guess my only advantage is, I’ve had to deal with psychos my whole life, with my father being the predominate one. After a while, the fear is still there, but it’s no longer paralyzing.”

“Sam Trask told me you had been by to see him, as a podiatrist.”

“He’s a very nice man. I have no idea how his son ended up the way he did.”

“He also suggested that we work together to get this done.”

“Nathan Trask is very dangerous. And you have two little kids. I never should have let you go near the man. Look, you’re going to walk away. You have to walk away. Now. I’ll get the guy or die trying. And rest assured, no one will miss me if I get killed.”

“I will.”

Gibson let that statement hang out there for a few moments as the women locked gazes.

“You can’t mean that. After all I’ve done to you.”

“My father taught me to not judge someone unless I’ve walked in their shoes. I don’t know anyone who’s walked in your shoes. Yeah, I’m pissed at what you’ve done to me. But... you risked your life to take some really bad people down. As a former cop that counts with me.”

Francine said, “But you’ve already got a job. And you should go back to doing it, starting right now. But you have my word that I will die before I let them hurt you or your kids.” She glanced at the photo of Tommy and Darby again. “You have no reason to believe me, I know, but that is the truth.”

“FYI, I got fired from ProEye. Now that I know about Beckett, I think he was the asshole who made it happen. And you know me, Francine, from way back. I don’t give up. From what I know about you, you’re the same as me.”

“What exactly are you saying, Mickey?”

“Sam Trask thought we might be a stronger force working together than separately. Why don’t we find out if he’s right?”