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“How is that any different from what you’re doing? Forcing. Controlling. Letting men have their way,” John said.
“No.” She pointed her bony finger at him and then Violet and descended another stair, her long gray hair blowing behind her. “I empowered them to take control of their life. They choose who and when and how much. And they give the Good Lord back His due. They help the poor and the needy and learn how to be kind and decent. Like I had to learn.”
Violet had no words. Mother’s reasoning was stunning, twisted. Disgusting.
“When poverty came, my drunk of a daddy left us. And my mama did what had to be done to put food on the table. One afternoon, one of the men had an interest in me. Instead of letting him take me, Mama gave him a price and a limit to what he could or couldn’t do. They didn’t get to run the show. We did and we still do. Men are violent, so we allow them to indulge their violent tendencies—by protecting the girls. A man hurts them or doesn’t comply, and they get hurt.”
They get dead was what she meant.
“And when we get our clutches on this killer...he won’t see another day either.”
Did she even care that she was basically revealing murderous intent to a federal agent? Imogene Boyd thought she was invincible. Because she had been since she was a girl. A child. And in a sick way, she believed she had God on her side because she used some of that money to do good things in His name. Violet knew little about God, but there was no way He was condoning this wicked nonsense.
“You’re nothing but a con woman, brainwashing these girls who have already been abused to believe you actually have their best interest at heart.” So much so they’d all kept their mouths shut to protect her, right along with the men—out of fear of being murdered or fear they’d lose their good thing.
“You wouldn’t understand.”
“No, you don’t understand, but you will. We’ll see how much you like being forced into doing something you don’t really want to do. See how you like living in fear. You’re going to prison for trafficking, for impeding an investigation and anything else I can possibly find to make sure you suffer for your own sins. To free these women. Lula will never know this lifestyle. Ruby and I will make sure of it.”
“And so will I,” John added.
Mother’s lips tightened. “No one in this holler will testify. You have nothing but hearsay. You think I’m stupid.”
Violet held out her phone to show she’d recorded it. Might not get admitted in court, but it was worth a shot to get someone to testify. “You think I am?”
Mother saw the recording, and it turned the tables in Violet’s favor. Fear flooded her face. “I can give you something you want. In return, you delete that and you walk out of here. I’ll deal with who’s been murdering my girls.”
“I’m not interested in Whiskey’s drugs or who he’s murdered for himself or at your request or command. If he’s the Blind Eye Killer, you’d have already dealt with him. You got nothing I want.”
Her eyes told a sinister tale. “I’m not talking about Whiskey. I have Adam,” she cooed. “You want your father more than anything. I can give him to you.”
Violet’s heart thudded in her chest, and blood whooshed in her ears as the world tilted. “You’re lying.”
“I’m not. I didn’t tell you everything then. I will now.” She came down from the porch. “Adam fancied Loretta. More than the other girls who were trapped with her. He never wanted to part with her, so he tried to steal her away again. But holler girls don’t leave, so he stayed.”
Violet’s knees turned to water. Adam was here. Under her nose. Had she encountered him? Did he know she was his daughter? “Where is he?”
“She’s lying, Violet,” John whispered. “It’s a last-ditch effort.”
She wagged her forefinger. “I’m not. And I want a promise you’ll pack it up and leave. Let us handle this ourselves. Our own way. Like we always have. Like I always have.”
The thought was tempting. Too tempting. She could find her father. Get answers. Know the truth about herself. Was she safe to be around or would she end up like him in some form or every way?
The front door opened, and Loretta Boyd stepped out and down the stairs. Her aging lines were deepened by worry, her eyes wide and frantic. Was she still in the business? She hadn’t wanted this life for Ruby, and she’d run away, only to have a horrific thing happen to her, solidifying Mother’s logic that she was better protected here. Did she also know Adam was still in the hollow? Were they...an item in some sick way?
“Loretta, go back inside. This doesn’t concern you.”
“Yes, it does,” she said softly, and that was when Violet noticed the pistol in her shaking hand.
Violet drew her Sig, aimed it at Loretta, hoping this thing would not go south; she didn’t want to hurt Loretta. John pulled his weapon too.
“Ruby’s missing. I went over to see about her, and Lula was in the house. Alone. I dropped her at Betty Jane’s. She said Ruby went outside to talk to someone, and she never came back inside. He’s got her.”
“Loretta, put the gun down and tell me who has Ruby,” Violet pleaded. “I can help her.”
Loretta faced her grandmother, ignoring Violet’s instructions. “Everyone is dead because of you. Because you’ve terrified us into thinking we can’t leave. We can’t marry. Oh, but we can have children just like you did. Especially if they’re girls. But we can’t do anything else. I didn’t want to be a holler girl, and I didn’t want Ruby to be one either, and Lula will not know this life.” She raised her gun, hand trembling.
“Wanda will decide that when she takes the helm,” Mother said. “Put that weapon away. This minute!”
