CHAPTER EIGHT
“You boys always know how to challenge me,” said Dr. Bordelon, the parish coroner.
“This one will challenge my heart. I’m not gonna lie.
Their skulls were opened. All of them. And some of them were not sutured back together.
I can’t tell you anything else until I examine them all. It’s gonna take me a while.”
“What the fuck were they doing to these children?” muttered Luke.
“Luke? Come here, honey,” said Riley.
Luke walked over to where Riley, Jane, and Kelsey were standing near the boy they’d found. Keith was signing to him, showing him new words and they seemed to be connecting, as he knew they would.
“What’s up, Riley?” he asked feeling defeated.
“I’m not sure how this boy has survived,” she said shaking her head. “I think they expected him to die like the others.”
“Can we help him?” he asked.
“I believe we can but we’ll have to operate on him again and I’m not sure he’ll sit still for that.
Keith is a tremendous help. They damaged the side of the brain that controls his movements to his right side.
The misshapen head was due to having an open wound, and probably brain swelling when placed in that room.
By some unbelievable miracle, the wound closed but while the brain was swollen.
Which, by the way, should have killed him as well. ”
“Well, it didn’t so let’s figure out why and be grateful. If he doesn’t have family, we’ll keep him with our own children. One more will just add to the love.”
“I love that you sound like your grandmother. Luke, he keeps asking for paper and pen,” said Kelsey.
“We’ll get him as much paper and as many pens as he wants. For now, let’s just get him somewhere safe.”
Keith, Hex, and the medical team traveled back to Belle Fleur with the boy, while the others stayed to help with the removal of the bodies and conducted a sweep of the entire place with a fine-tooth comb.
At first they were certain that they would find nothing. But when Luke stared at the volumes of medical texts on the wall of one room, he tilted his head sideways as if hoping something would pop out.
“What’s wrong?” asked Eric.
“When we were little and wanted to hide a bad test paper from our parents, where did we hide it?” asked Luke.
“In a book,” nodded Eric staring at the wall.
Carefully, the two men took one book at a time, thumbing through the pages. Occasionally, slips of paper with names, phone numbers or addresses would fall out. They placed them in a stack on the desk and continued around the room.
Eric stared up at the top shelf of books and frowned.
“Hey Luke? How many pages were in the Iliad?”
“I don’t know, five-hundred or so. Why?”
“How many were in The Odyssey?”
“I don’t know. Again, maybe four or five hundred depending on the print. Why are you asking this?” he frowned turning to where he stood.
Eric was pointing above his head. Volumes of classical literature were lined up along the two bookcases on the top shelf. Each book was close to five or six inches wide, indicating a thousand or more pages.
“You are a very good man,” smirked Luke.
One by one they lifted the books off the shelf and carefully opened each one. Inside were no pages, no illustrations, no words. Instead, were smaller notebooks containing detailed notes of every child they’d ever performed surgery on.
Some of the children had names, some did not. They were simply numbered like cattle being pushed through a slaughter house.
Eric’s ebony skin was turning ashen around his knuckles. Luke reached for his hand, gently squeezing.
“Easy, brother. We’re going to find these maniacs. They’ll pay for whatever they’ve done. You know that.” Luke continued to keep skin to skin contact with Eric, hoping to make the big beast calm down. But it wasn’t to be.
When all the notebooks were removed from the dummy books, when every scrap of paper was safely ensconced in a box, he turned to look.
“Take it to the car,” he said calmly.
“Eric, we can’t burn it down brother. Not yet. There could still be evidence here.”
“I’m not gonna burn it,” he said staring at the room. Luke gave a nod to Hex and Cam and they carried the boxes out of the room. They waited a few moments, then heard what they knew was Eric.
Rushing back inside to ensure he didn’t hurt himself, they watched as he ripped every shelf from the wall, tearing plaster and sheetrock, wood splintering into a million pieces. He tore the plywood from one of the windows and carried it toward the reception area, leaning it against the desk.
Using a can of spray paint he’d found in one of the rooms, he spray painted his message, tossing the can aside and leaving the building. Luke, Cam and Hex stared at one another.
Run while you can – I dare you
“Someone’s gonna die,” said Hex. Luke nodded.
“Yep. And it won’t be us.”
“Yep. And I’m gonna help him.”