Tonya smiled as she wiped the moisture from her eyes. “He’s kind of clueless on the physical stuff. In fact, I had to tell him how he got me in this condition to begin with.”
Dr. Williamson let out a loud laugh. “Well, I must admit I expected him to know at least that much.”
“Oh, don’t get me wrong. Robert is a wonderful husband, and he’s going to make a great dad, but you’re right. He’s clueless when it comes to my body and this baby.”
“I’m sure he’s doing the best he can, so take it easy on him.”
When her appointment was over, Tonya waddled down the corridor toward the elevators. After pushing the down button, she leaned against a nearby wall and rested.
“Are you all right?” asked a man in a powder blue nurse’s outfit.
The voice startled her. “What? Ah, yeah, I’m fine. Just tired.”
“How many months are you?”
She laughed as she touched her belly. “Eight down, one to go.”
“I bet you’re excited, huh?”
Tonya nodded her head. “I don’t know what I’m looking forward to the most: having a baby or getting my body back to the way it used to be.”
The black man grinned. “Well, I admire you women. You go through so much in order to bring something so precious into the world. I got to hand it to you.”
“Well, somebody’s got to do it, and it certainly isn’t going to be a man.”
He nodded. He couldn’t agree with her more. “So, what were you doing here?”
“I just had an appointment with Dr. Williamson. He wanted to run a few tests to make sure I’m fine.”
“And everything went well, I hope?”
“Perfect.”
“Good,” the man said. “I’m glad to hear it.”
As he finished his statement, the elevator door slid open, revealing an empty car. Tonya took a few steps forward, but she appeared a little unsteady on her feet.
“Wow,” she muttered. “I really don’t feel very good.”
The man grimaced, then patted her on the arm. “I’ll tell you what. If you hold the door for me, I’ll get something that will help you out. Okay?”
She stared at him, a look of confusion on her face.
“Just trust me, all right?”
Tonya nodded, holding the door open button. The man jogged halfway down the hall and grabbed a wheelchair that had been abandoned in the corridor. Pushing it as quickly as he could, the man returned to the elevator. “Your chariot, madam.”
She smiled and settled her wide frame into the seat. “Normally you wouldn’t catch me in one of these for a million bucks, but to be honest with you, I think the rest will do me good.”
“I was heading outside anyway, so it would be my pleasure to assist you to the parking lot.”
“Thanks,” Tonya said. “I appreciate it.”
As the elevator door slid shut, the smile that had filled the man’s face during the entire conversation quickly faded. Reaching into his pocket, he grabbed the hypodermic needle that he had prepared ten minutes earlier and brought it into view. After removing the cap, the man inched the syringe toward the exposed flesh of the unsuspecting woman.
“Don’t worry, Tonya,” he whispered. “The baby won’t feel a thing.”
Before she had a chance to question his comment or the use of her name, he jabbed the needle into her neck and watched her succumb to the potent chemical. The elevator door opened a moment later and he wasted no time pushing the sleeping woman through the lobby, right past the security staff at the front desk.
“Is she all right?” asked one of the guards.
“Dead tired,” he answered as he rolled her toward the black vehicle that waited outside.
LATER that night, Payne and Ariane went to the movies. Unfortunately, the theater was so packed they were actually relieved when the film ended.
“Well, what do you think?” he asked as they walked outside. “Did you like it?”
“Like what?”
“Um, the movie we just saw.”
Ariane smiled, giggling at her atypical behavior. “I’m sorry. I should’ve been able to figure that out. I’ve got a slight headache from that darn crowd. I guess I’m kind of out of it right now.”
“No problem, as long as you aren’t trying to back out of tomorrow.”
“No chance there, mister. In fact, I think I have our entire weekend planned.”
“Oh, you do, do you? Well, what do I have to look forward to?”
Ariane glanced at him and smiled. “I figured we can start off tomorrow morning with breakfast and a round of golf. Then, when I’m done kicking your butt, we can grab some lunch before heading back to your pool for some skinny-dipping and a variety of aquatic activities that will never be in the Olympics.”
“I don’t know.” Payne laughed. “The TV ratings would go through the roof if the Olympics used some of the events that I have in mind.”
She blushed slightly. “Then on Saturday, if you’re not too tired, I figured we can work on perfecting our routines.”
Payne threw his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close. “That sounds pretty good to me. But one question still remains: What’s on the itinerary for tonight?”
Ariane frowned. “Nothing but sleep. As I mentioned, I’ve got a slight headache, and I think it has to do with a lack of rest. If it’s okay with you, I just want to go home and snooze.”
“Sure, that’s fine.” In truth, he was disappointed, but he didn’t want to make her feel guilty. “I guess I’ll just go home and do some paperwork. You know me. My job always comes first.”
CHAPTER 5
Friday, July 2nd
Plantation Isle, Louisiana
(42 miles southeast of New Orleans)
THE cross was ten feet high, six feet wide, and built with a sole purpose in mind. The carpenter had used the right kind of wood, soaked it in the ideal fuel, and planted it into the ground at the appropriate angle. The Plantation had one shot to do this right, and they wanted it to go smoothly. It would set the perfect tone for their new guests.
“Torch it,” Octavian Holmes snarled through the constraints of his black hood. The wooden beams were set aflame, and before long fiery sparks shot high into the predawn sky, illuminating the row of cabins that encircled the grass field.
Ironically, the image brought a smile to Holmes’s shrouded face. As a child, he had witnessed a similar scene, a cross being burned in his family’s front yard, and it had evoked a far different reaction. It had terrified him. The bright glow of the smoldering wood. The sharp stench of smoke. The dancing specters in white hoods and sheets. The racial taunts, the threats of violence, the fear in his father’s eyes. All of it had left an indelible mark on his young psyche, a scar that had remained for years. Now things were different. He was no longer a scared boy, cowering with his family, seeking strength and protection. Now the roles were reversed. He built the cross. He lit the flame. And he controlled the guest list.