by J. M. LeDuc
“There has to be more to it than that.”
“Joe Rattle, you remember him?”
Sin nodded.
“He said he wasn’t going to take being used and opted out of his agreement.”
“It’s nice to know someone still has a pair around here,” Sin interrupted.
“Yeah, well his pair cost him his boat and his house,” Troy said. “Word is he cut a deal with The Blue Oyster to privately sell his catch. Two weeks later the place burnt down from a grease fire.”
Sin looked back toward the boats. “Damn.”
“After that, no one would touch his catch. He ended up leaving and went to live with his daughter up in Tampa. No one has complained since then.”
“I don’t get it. As much as I hated this place, I remember these people as being levelheaded. How could they let someone like Heap take control of their lives?”
“That’s just it,” Troy emphasized. “They don’t think it’s Heap. They think it’s God.”
Troy’s words hit Sin hard. She stood ramrod straight and stared at him. “Come again. God?”
“Everyone in Tumbleboat believes that Heap is a prophet.”
Sin wiped her windblown hair from her eyes. “You’ve got to be fuckin’ with me?”
“Nope, and it’s just not the people on Tumbleboat. Hell, half of the citizens in the Lower Keys are members of his church.”
Sin’s eyes opened wide. “I would love to get a look at this church of his.”
Troy guzzled the rest of his bottle. “Finish that beer and I’ll show you Heap’s pride and joy.”
“The Church of the New Son.”
Troy placed his sunglasses on his head, drowning out the twinkle in his eyes. “That would be the one,” he said.
Outside, Sin went to straddle her bike. Troy squeezed her shoulder. “Let’s take mine.”
“Why?”
“Word on the street says that Heap hasn’t exactly warmed up to your ‘charms,’ and Bubba is the security guard at the entrance gate. We have a lot better chance getting on the grounds if we show up on my bike together.”
Sin wasn’t happy, but she agreed.
As Troy started his Harley, Sin made herself comfortable on the back.
Troy turned his head toward her and smirked. “Feel free to get real close if you want.”
Sin slapped his helmet. “Kiss my ass and drive.”
Troy laughed as he twisted the throttle and gunned his bike.
Within twenty minutes, Sin had subconsciously laid her head on his shoulder. It wasn’t until a carload of teenagers whistled at them at a stop light that she was even aware of her position. Embarrassed and a little mad at herself, she gave them the finger and sat up straight.
She tightened her grip on Troy’s waist when she realized they were nearing the cemetery where her mother was buried.
One block past the cemetery entrance, they pulled off the road onto a shell-rock side street. Troy shut the bike off and removed his sunglasses.
He nodded his head at the ornate, gaudy building ahead of them. “That is the Church of the New Son.”
Sin finger combed and shook out her hair. “Damn,” she said, “it’s huge.” She paused for a moment to think. “This doesn’t make sense.”
“What doesn’t make sense?”
Sin swung her leg off the saddle and stretched her spine. “That monstrosity must hold at least ten-thousand people. There is no way he has that many people attend his church.”
Troy smirked. “You’re as smart as you are sexy.”
Sin rolled her eyes. “Keep it in your pants and get me inside.”
Troy silently laughed. “I have one demand before we go any further.”
Sin’s hip jutted to the side at the tone of his words. She crossed her arms and scrunched up her lips. “And that would be?”
“You need to keep the attitude in check. Let me do the talking.”
Sin huffed. “Fine, let’s go.”
Five minutes later, they pulled up to a set of gold rod iron gates, which had a shield welded onto them with the letters P and H embossed in gold.
“Subtle,” Sin’s words dripped sarcasm.
She quickly surveyed the area. Security cameras and motion detectors every fifty-feet, she thought. There is a guard posted here and another posted at the church entrance and on the roof. Those I can see are all armed. What the fuck is going on in there?
While she was getting a lay of the land, the door of the security booth opened and Bubba stepped out. “Well, well, well,” he said, “it looks like Troy’s been fishin’,” he scrunched his bulbous, red nose, “and it smells like he caught himself a rotten tuna.”
Sin’s muscles contracted.
She felt Troy’s posture stiffen as she tightened her grip on his waist. He reached back and squeezed her thigh—hard.
“I brought Sergeant O’Malley here because she asked to see the church.”
As Troy continued to talk to Bubba, Sin’s senses were tingling. Her instincts told her that someone else was watching. That’s when she noticed the red light flashing on the control panel inside the security booth.
“The church is closed today,” Bubba said. “Sorry ‘bout yer luck.” He pulled a toothpick out of his jean’s pocket and flipped it in his mouth.
Troy was about to respond when Sin opened her mouth. “Why don’t we let Prophet Heap decide whether his church is open or not.”
Bubba smirked. “ ‘Fraid he ain’t here.”
Sin ignored his response. “Is that correct, Prophet? You’re not on the premises?”
She caught Troy looking at her like she was nuts—until the prophet’s voice came from the speaker.
“It would be my pleasure to show the sergeant around God’s house,” he drawled. “Please let the deputy and the sergeant through.”
Bubba flipped the toothpick from one side of his mouth to the other and back again. With each flip, his face became a darker shade of red. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that his rage was increasing with his hue. He grabbed a visitor’s pass from the counter and slammed it into Troy’s hand. Bubba leaned close to Sin, pulled the toothpick from his mouth, and pointed the chewed end at her. “You embarrass me again and I’ll . . .”
Sin leaned into him and sneered. “You don’t need any help from me. You are an embarrassment to the human race.”
Troy gunned the bike as soon as the opening in the gate was wide enough. “Nice,” he said. “I asked you to do one thing, just one, and you couldn’t even do that.”
Sin just smirked as the bike lunged forward.
The guard at the entrance was another ‘punk’ from Sin’s adolescence—Ronald Shell. Dirty looks were exchanged as he led the duo into the church.
“Prophet Heap directed me to escort you to his outer office until he finishes his meeting.”
Sin’s eyes and mind were in overdrive. She couldn’t wait to get a tour of this place.
Sin flipped through magazines and continuously glanced at her watch. Patience was not one of her virtues. She stuck her wrist under Troy’s nose. “It’s been thirty minutes,” she mouthed. “Who the hell does he think he is?”
As Troy was about to answer, Heap and another man emerged from his office.
Prophet Heap’s smile was almost as big as his ego. “You remember Police Chief Miller, don’t you, Sergeant?” he asked.
Ezekiel Miller stood next to Heap, painted a pasty smile on his face, puffed out his chest, and attempted to pull his trousers past his ever-expanding waistline.
Sin took a final glance at her watch and arched her eyebrow. “I remember Patrolman Miller.” Condescension bled through her words. “Congratulations on your promotions.”
Miller’s face scrunched, turning sour. He stepped forward and belly bumped Sin.
The smell of stale liquor and tobacco permeated her personal space. Sin put her hands up in mock surrender and glanced at his enormous girth. “Whoa, Chief. We don’t want that thing
to explode.”
He flipped a toothpick into his mouth.
Like father like son, Sin thought.
“You’ll find I’m not so easy to whoop as my boy, O’Malley,” he hissed, “so don’t try me.”
Sin’s expression didn’t change. “I’m not here to make enemies, Miller.”
His thick tongue protruded from his trout-like lips and flicked the toothpick into the corner of his mouth. “Too late,” he snarled. “I’ll be watchin’ you.”
Sin stood her ground. “Back atcha.”
The chief tipped his hat at Troy and appeared to almost bow towards the prophet. “I will see you both Tuesday night.”
He stepped forward and shoulder bumped Sin. She could tell he expected her to lose her balance, and she saw goose bumps flood his flesh when he became misdirected from their collision.
Sin followed him out with her eyes. Turning back towards the others, she saw Heap shaking his head.
“You do have a way with people,” Heap laughed. “Follow me and I will give you the grand tour.”
An hour later, the three of them were back where they started.
Heap pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the sweat from his brow. “Well, Sergeant, I hope this has inspired you to attend services on Sunday.”
Sin quickly changed the subject. “The church is very impressive, Prophet. How large did you say the facility was?”
Heap wiped his brow again. “I don’t recall saying, but the entire building is twenty-thousand-square-feet and we have plans to erect two adjacent buildings.”
Sin’s mind was racing. From her peripheral vision, she saw Troy start to fidget.
He gestured to the clock on the wall. “I hate to break up this conversation, but I just realized the time. I am on duty in an hour. Do you mind if we rush out, Prophet Heap?”
“Not at all, Deputy. I am late for a meeting, also.”
“Thank you for your hospitality,” Troy answered. “Sergeant O’Malley—ready?”
13
Sin was deep in thought the entire ride back home. She knew the dimensions of the sanctuary and the other rooms inside the church didn’t add up to the total square footage. She was also thinking about Ezekiel Miller’s remarks. What meeting would Troy be attending with both Miller and Heap. The more she reflected, the angrier she became.
When they arrived back in Tumbleboat, her words and disposition were curt as she thanked Troy for taking her to the church.
He grabbed her arm as she began to walk away. “What happened to the girl that rode with me on the way to the church?” he asked.
Sin jerked her arm from his grasp. “She was fooled by your charm, but don’t worry. It won’t happen again.”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
Sin stepped toward Troy. “You say you’ve changed, but you haven’t. You are still the same piece of shit you were back in high school.”
Troy threw his arms up. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about Miller saying that he was going to see you at a meeting on Tuesday. If you are against Heap and his cronies, why are you attending a meeting with them?”
Troy shook his head and straddled his bike. “You need to learn to give people the benefit of the doubt. Instead of jumping to conclusions, why didn’t you just ask?”
Sin leaned against her bike and crossed her ankles. “I’m listening.”
Troy started his Harley and shifted into first gear. “I’m late for work. Lose the attitude, put on a dress, and I will pick you up for dinner at eight.”
He gunned the throttle, fishtailing out of the shell-rock drive.
Dinner? Sin smirked. Some guys just like to be punished.
After checking on her dad, she left Carmelita a note and left to take care of some things of her own.
Sin always thought best when there were noise and people around. Without even thinking where she was going, she pulled her bike into the Lower Keys Saloon. She eyed the parking lot and not seeing any of her ‘buddies’ vehicles, she ventured inside to quench her thirst and think.
A while later, the bar started to fill up with locals and Sin thought it best to leave before she was the cause of any more trouble. Thirst quenched and notes written, Sin left with a plan. Not much of one, but it was better than nothing.
Walking outside in the late day sun, she slid her mirror-lensed sunglasses down onto her eyes, straddled her bike, and made a quick phone call before kick-starting her Harley.
14
Sin pulled up to the Navy base in Key West. She was checked through by the MP and given directions to the base commander’s office.
“I appreciate your assistance, Captain,” she said.
Captain Jackson rolled the cigar from one side of his mouth to the other, finished signing an acquisition order, and nodded. “It’s the least I can do for an American hero,” he said, stogie clenched between his teeth.
“I’m just a soldier doing my job like everyone else, Sir.”
“Modest, I like that,” he said handing her the paper. A quizzical look painted his expression as he placed the well-chewed cigar in the crystal ashtray. “Tell me, Sergeant, are you sure this gear is for recreational purposes?”
Sin, straight faced—without a glint of a tell—answered, “I’m on leave, Captain. I just figured I would get a little recreational diving in during my down time.”
Captain Jackson emitted a belly laugh. “Get out of here, O’Malley before I change my mind.”
Sin saluted the colonel and left to fill the requisition order.
She handed the corporal manning the equipment locker a piece of paper. “Would you mind sending this equipment to my residence?”
He looked at the requisition and then at Sin. “I’ll send it to Sixteen Hundred Pennsylvania Avenue if you want, Ma’am.”
Sin smiled. “I don’t think there is much need for SCUBA equipment in D.C. Maybe next time.”
Papers and manifests signed, she headed back to Tumbleboat to talk to Carmelita before getting ready for dinner.
Sin sat at the red light on U.S. 1, the road that led off Key West. She glanced in her rearview mirror and noticed a pick-up truck tailing her about five vehicles back. She couldn’t make out the occupants, but she knew she had seen the truck before.
That’s the same truck I saw pass me when I pulled onto the base, she thought. Let’s see how badly they want to tail me.
The light turned green and she eased off the clutch, following the line of traffic off the Key. About a half mile down the road, she pulled onto a service road that led to the local airport.
Sin had spent a good portion of her youth in the recesses of the airport trying to escape her life on Tumbleboat. She hoped it hadn’t been redesigned in the years she’d been away.
As soon as she entered the service road, she gunned the throttle of her bike and roared down a long road of airplane hangars. Sliding her bike around a one-hundred-and-eighty-degree right hand turn she stayed on the throttle and disappeared between two buildings. She cut the engine to her bike and glided into an open hangar about fifty yards from the end of the row.
Good old, Charlie, she thought, he still leaves his hangar wide open. She quickly dismounted and threw an old painter’s tarp over her bike. She ducked low behind the tarp and watched the pick-up make its way past.
From the hangar, she heard the truck stop and both doors open.
“What the hell, the bitch couldn’ta just disappeared.”
“Shut up and check the open hangars.”
Sin recognized the voices. The first belonged to Ronnie, the guard from the church who escorted her to and from Heap’s office and the second belonged to Bubba.
She heard the crunching of footsteps on the sand-beaten asphalt as one of them neared her position. With precision movements, she withdrew her sidearm from her waist holster, thumbed off the safety, and waited for him to get a little closer. Sin’s thigh muscles started to quiver as she pos
itioned herself on the balls of her feet. It was the beginning of an adrenaline rush. When others would be frightened, she was just getting amped up.
About to spring from her spot, she heard a familiar voice. It was Charlie.
“One move and I’ll blow the back of your head off.”
“Whoa, easy buddy, I’m here on official business.”
“Official, ha,” Charlie said, “then why don’t you drop that gun and show me a badge and a warrant.”
“It ain’t that kind of official, I’m here on behalf of Prophet Heap.”
Sin could hear the ‘thunk’ of metal on bone and she had to bite her lip from laughing.
“Damn,” the intruder cried. “That hurt.”
“Shut up.”
Sin peered around the tarp and saw Charlie take a couple of steps back from Ronnie before saying anything else.
“Put your hands on top of your head.”
Ronnie rubbed the knot on his head and kept flapping his lips. “You don’t know what yer doin’, old man. Didn’t you hear me say I was here for the Prophet?”
Charlie thumbed the hammer back on his Smith and Wesson 32 police special. “He’s just another piece of shit, money hungry, fat fuck as far as I’m concerned.”
Ronnie went to move his hands and Charlie fired a shot above his head.
Sin watched Ronnie drop to the ground in the fetal position, hands covering his head.
Charlie walked up and rolled him onto his back with the toe of his boot. Sin could see Ronnie quaking with fear.
“You’re going to stand up—slowly—and walk back to your truck and drive out of here. If I don’t hear tires squealing in thirty seconds . . .” Charlie thumbed the hammer back again, “the next one won’t miss.”
Sin watched as the guard stumbled to his feet and ran out of the hangar.
Charlie stood at the entrance and watched the man run. “One more thing,” he yelled. “Pick your fat-ass friend up off my property and haul his carcass out of here with you.”
Charlie turned to look back into the hangar. “Come on out, Sinclair.” He was the only one who called her by her full name.
