The Death of 1977 (Book 3)

The breathtaking slap of warm, salty water brought a crushed and wounded Lynnette to her senses. With her two swollen eyes the woman tried to look around, but all she could make out in front and from left to right were blurry splotches. The salty water that was splashed into her face began to singe the bloody wounds that lacerated her nearly naked body.

She could feel her arms being restrained from above while her naked feet dangled beneath her. From her head all the way to her toes felt as if she had been beaten with spikes. Every inch of her body was in pain. Her face was a blood soaked mess and her clothes were nearly falling right off of her.

"Good evening, my love." She heard Livingston's voice draw near.

The man was actually standing right in front of her. The sun had gone down for the day, which left the cabin bathing in a subdued warmness from a lantern that was burning within a corner of the room. The crashing waves outside weren't at their highest tide as of yet. They sounded subtle and somewhat at ease still.

"Everyone has gone home for the night." Livingston said as he paced back and forth in front of Lynnette. "You'll have to forgive my friends and their not so delicate approach with you. I had to stop them after a while before they ended up killing you altogether." Livingston then caressed her face. "You're a rugged little thing, aren't you? I can tell that you've been through a lot in your life."

Lynnette couldn't even feel her own tongue or face for that matter. Everything around her was nothing but shapes.

Lifting her chin up, Livingston said, "Yes...you were once a lovely little bird."

"Jose." Lynnette gagged on her own blood.

"Oh, your boyfriend took a nice, long dive in the sea." Livingston plainly remarked. "Did you know that this island is surrounded by sharks? Nurse sharks, bull sharks; there's even been some great white sightings here and there. If that answers your question."

Lynnette shut her eyes and tried not to imagine anymore calamity coming to Jose's already dead body that had been discarded like garbage.

"Don't be too distraught, my love. People vanish around here all the time. One more dead body washing ashore won't exactly put a dent in the economy." Livingston stood back. "Now, my friends and I are very busy men, so I'm going to try and make this as painless as possible for you." He began to speak ever so politely. "We're not here to play a round of the Ministers Cat; rather, I want some information from you. You see, ever since I returned, this American girl has been the talk all over town. And I am just dying to know what makes her so popular."

"I'm nobody." Lynnette struggled to cough.

"Oh, come now, just like the old song goes, everyone is someone." He began to pace all over again. "You have to be someone, Lynnette Glover, from Cypress, Ohio."

Lynnette's eyes could make out the three other men standing at various points in the cabin with their weapons drawn. Though she couldn't focus on their faces, she could tell all the same that they were ready at a moment's notice to carry out any order that Livingston had in mind.

"I want to know why you are here all the way from a place called Ohio. And please don't say for the luxurious beaches."

Lynnette dropped her head in agony at that second and slurred, "I was looking for someone."

"Who might that be?"

Lynnette considered her answer at first. Whether wrong or correct, she realized that whatever she uttered would end up getting her killed.

Poking out his right ear, Livingston said aloud, "Who did you say you were looking for again?"

Lynnette held her breath for as long as she possibly could without losing conciseness. "Just take what you want from me, please." She whispered.

"Besides a tight snatch, what do you have that I want?" Livingston's tenor grew sharp. "You came here searching for someone, and I want to know who that someone is. Because the last time I checked, women from the states don't stay as tourists two and a half months just for the fun of it. Who are you working for? The FBI? CIA?"

"I don't work for

Philippe shouted. "She be lookin' for Arthur

that, and I know that, but what we don't know is why she is looking for such a man." Livingston said as he once again

Lynnette's heart skipped just as many beats as it did months ago inside the old apartment building back home. All the twisting and turning she

was this doctor, who after a criminal was beheaded, took the dead man's head and called out his name. The dead man's eyes connected with the doctor's before shutting all over again. The doctor once more called out the man's name, and the man opened his eyes and looked at the doctor before he finally bled out, shut his eyes, and eventually died. Thirty seconds, that's how long a severed head

Livingston then knelt down and picked up a long butcher knife from off the floor. Lynnette started to wiggle back and forth with what

case you're wondering, I am trying to frighten you with true stories." He scraped his chin with the tip of the blade.

see her one and

"You wanna see him again? Tell us what we want to

"I'm here for Arthur

and began to walk away. "We

know what

At that very moment, all four men paused. Livingston turned around and grinned, "We all know what he is.

"No...I know what

inside the cabin. Each of the henchmen handed one another penetrating stares while Livingston skittishly

again?"

Both he, and his

what she gwan on about?" One of the other men

looking in his direction. "Just

"You

know

"Yes...yes, I

you one of Arthur

me and my

refined frown on his blushing face as to say he

"Who do you work

I don't work

"Then how do you

us. My fiancé was one

here!" Another one of the

up!"

was as thick as billowing smoke from a blazing inferno. Everyone gathered seemed to be either overwrought or breathless. Lynnette could see Livingston nervously fidgeting

"Hey, mon, how

"I'm going to entertain this a bit more. If you know about the Bushards, how is it that

"I...I saw Arthur kill his sister."

Livingston stood back and stared awkwardly at Lynnette. "He...he

"Yes."

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