“What about Clementine?” asked Hex.
“This one is puzzling,” said Luke. “She was the all-American mom. She baked for the kids school bake sales, she was in a book club with the women in her neighborhood, she made lap quilts for hospice patients. This woman, by all accounts, was a saint. So, why did she kill herself?”
“Not just that,” said Milo, “but why did she kill herself in such a horrible way? She could have taken pills or shot herself. Are we certain this was a suicide?”
“We can get the reports from the coroner and the police but it looks like it was. Her prints were on the tools in the shed, the hatchet, as well as the hammer and screwdriver used to nail it to the walls.”
“Do you know what this feels like to me?” said Griff. “It feels like someone who thought they should be punished in their death. Think about it. She could have taken an overdose. She could have jumped off a bridge, driven her car off a bridge. She could have shot herself. Instead, she did something that would cause the maximum amount of suffering and pain. That’s someone seeking penance in death.”
“So, you think she did something wrong? Something to deserve the penance?” asked Hex.
“I don’t think she deserved that but I’m saying I think she thought she deserved it. The question is, what would be so horrible, terrible that she believed she needed to kill herself?”
“Why can’t these damn ghosts just speak to us?” asked Luke staring off across the property. There was another storm coming and they knew that it could slow their progress.
“Luke, y’all come have some dinner,” said Ajei standing in the doorway with some of the other medical staff, including Shep. “You’ve done enough for today. You’ll figure this out but you won’t do it on an empty stomach and exhausted.”
“She’s right, Luke. You guys have to take care of yourselves,” said Shep. “I know this is stressful and I know that you guys want to figure this out but you can’t do that if you get sick.”
“You’re right,” he said kissing his wife. He looked at Shep and shook his head. “I’m not kissing you for the advice.”
“No problem. I think I’ll pass on that,” he smirked.
Dinner was always an event at Belle Fleur. Mama Irene started the tradition of making sure everyone was together when possible. It was the time of day to truly break bread together, talk about the day’s events and just reconnect with the family. Tonight was no different.
They made sure to put the cases on the shelf and only talk about Belle Fleur. Discussions surrounded the possibility of flooding due to all the rain, the animals restlessness not going away, and Mardi Gras creeping up on them quickly.
“You know we’re going to have the parade of boats again,” said Ajei. “Your grandmother insists on that every year and we’re not going to disappoint her.”
“I know, I know,” said Luke. “In fact, I think I’ll put Carl and Adam in charge of it this year. They both know how she likes the floats to be decorated and we can put out word for the parade among the other families in the area.”
“I’m glad you’re agreeing to all of this,” smiled Ajei. “It makes all our lives easier when you do.”
“I thought Mardi Gras happened in the city,” said Shep.
“It does,” said Ben, “but it also happens in the rural areas. In fact, most people go to New Orleans and miss some of the most beautiful traditions in the smaller towns. We love our celebrations out here. In fact, we try to avoid the city if at all possible.”
“You know, probably a crap time to bring this up, but I had a roommate in bootcamp that died at Mardi Gras,” said Shep.
“That’s terrible,” frowned Ajei. “We probably heard about it. How long ago was that?”
“Maybe twelve years ago,” he said shrugging. “We all told him not to come down here. He was just a kid but heard that it didn’t matter, he’d be able to get liquor and women. I think the women were definitely his priority.”
“How did he die?” asked Carl.
“Alcohol poisoning. Literally drank his body to death. We were shocked. So much so that the drill instructors gave us three days off. No one ever does that during bootcamp.”
“That sucks, Shep,” said Eric. “Sorry, brother.”
“Hey, can I ask y’all something?” he said staring at the men and women.
“You can ask whatever you like. You’ve been vetted, you’ve signed the NDA, I think we can trust you,” smirked Luke.
“I wasn’t immune to hearing the stories of REAPER, Steel Patriots, REAPER Patriots, all of you. Most recently of course, were the real life in front of my eyes stories of Voodoo Guardians.” They all nodded, waiting for the question. “What is it that makes all of you so much better than the others? I mean, all Special Forces teams are cream of the crop. They spend more time training, more time learning to stay alive but you guys are on another level. How?”
“It’s a great question,” said Luke. “I’d attribute it to all of them.” He nodded toward a group of tables with the retired seniors. His father, Nine, Trak, and Wilson were deep in conversation while Tailor and Alec were laughing and joking, as usual.
The other men and women were talking, laughing, telling stories and just seemingly enjoying themselves. But he saw what Shep saw. Men and women in their seventies, eighties, and even early nineties that were in peak physical form. His own mother still looked like she was in her thirties or forties.
