Storm Gathering

by Rene Gutteridge

  Aaron started to close the album when a picture fell out the back. It was a picture of Taylor with Sammy. They were at a party, and he was smiling casually at the camera. Just behind him, but definitely in the background, was Taylor, who was staring at the camera awkwardly, smiling timidly. Sammy Earle didn’t even seem to know she was there.

  Aaron remembered the framed photograph of the couple, which had been knocked over by the window in Taylor’s apartment. It had been taken as evidence. Why would she keep a photograph out after they broke it off?

  Aaron closed the albums and put them back in the chest. He walked to the kitchen, looked around, and then headed down the hallway. As he did, he tried to imagine what might have happened. He envisioned the woman being dragged down the hallway. Did she scream? Did she struggle? Was she forced? or tricked?

  Aaron observed her bedroom, trying to see if anything seemed out of place. But after fifteen minutes, still nothing significant.

  He sat on her bed, pulling out the small bedside drawer. Inside was a Bible, looking nearly brand-new. Aaron picked it up and flipped through it. Most of the pages were still crisp, unread, but there was a bookmark in Esther. Immediately Aaron noticed that passages and verses were underlined, highlighted, starred. He could hardly believe it. Not a single page in the rest of the Bible looked to be touched, but Esther had been well-read.

  Aaron focused on what Taylor had underlined, various seemingly unrelated verses in the first chapter of Esther.

  “On the seventh day of the feast, when King Xerxes was half drunk with wine, he told Mehuman, Biztha, Harbona, Bigtha, Abagtha, Zethar, and Carcas, the seven eunuchs who attended him, to bring Queen Vashti to him with the royal crown on her head. He wanted all the men to gaze on her beauty, for she was a very beautiful woman. But when they conveyed the king’s order to Queen Vashti, she refused to come.”

  Refused to come was underlined twice.

  “Women everywhere will begin to despise their husbands when they learn that Queen Vashti has refused to appear before the king. Before this day is out, the wife of every one of us, your officials throughout the empire, will hear what the queen did and will start talking to their husbands the same way.

  “One day as Mordecai was on duty at the palace, two of the king’s eunuchs, Bigthana and Teresh—who were guards at the door of the king’s private quarters—became angry at King Xerxes and plotted to assassinate him.”

  Taylor’s attention seemed to be on King Xerxes and his relationship with Queen Vashti, but it seemed she had missed the forest for the trees. What exactly was she searching for from God’s Word? An answer? A solution? And why the book of Esther?

  For Aaron, the book’s theme showed Esther’s bravery when one of the king’s men decided to plot to annihilate all the Jews and her and Mordecai’s ingenuity in exposing the man for who he was.

  Aaron wasn’t sure if Taylor had read the rest of the book. Flipping through it, he didn’t see anything else that was underlined. If Taylor had read the rest of the book, she would know that King Xerxes became a hero to the Jews and a friend to them. But what Taylor was underlining didn’t make sense in the context of the story.

  Flipping back through the pages, Aaron found one more set of verses underlined with a light blue pen in chapter 4. He’d almost missed it.

  “Mordecai sent back this reply to Esther: ‘Don’t think for a moment that you will escape there in the palace when all other Jews are killed. If you keep quiet at a time like this, deliverance for the Jews will arise from some other place, but you and your relatives will die. What’s more, who can say but that you have been elevated to the palace for such a time as this?’ ”

  The very end was underlined:

  “Then Esther sent this reply to Mordecai: ‘Go and gather together all the Jews of Susa and fast for me. Do not eat or drink for three days, night or day. My maids and I will do the same. And then, though it is against the law, I will go in to see the king. If I must die, I am willing to die.’ ”

  Aaron shook his head, riffled through the rest of the Bible one more time, and closed it, putting it gently back in the drawer. This woman was becoming more and more of an enigma. Something told him he wasn’t seeing the forest for the trees either.

  The door swung open and a woman with large glasses and curly hair walked inside, sifting through some papers. “Jim says he needs this signed today, and Rick Stanley called, said that the meeting is on for tomorrow at two—” She looked up, stopped, and stared at Mick. The papers fell out of the folder and slid across the floor.

  Mick reached in his back pocket and pulled out Aaron’s badge. “Don’t be scared, ma’am. I’m with the police.”

  She glanced at his clothes, her face still bright with fear.

  “Undercover,” Mick added quickly.

  “What are you doing here?” she breathed, uncertainty building with each drawled word she spoke.

  “We’re still investigating the disappearance of Taylor Franks. What is your name, ma’am?”

  The woman’s eyes widened. “Uh-uh . . . JoAnne.”

  “JoAnne what?” Mick tried his best to get the attention off him.

  “Meeler. JoAnne Meeler.”

  “And what is your relationship with Taylor Franks?” Mick lowered his voice, trying to sound authoritative. Apparently it was working. JoAnne looked like she’d been caught red-handed.

  “Nothing. No. Don’t know her.”

  Mick went to the door and shut it, gesturing toward a chair that JoAnne should sit in, which she did. While her back was turned, Mick quietly turned the lock. “You’re telling me you don’t know Taylor Franks?”

  JoAnne stuttered through a difficult sentence until it finally came out. “N-no. Yes. I-I mean, I don’t know her. I’ve t-talked to her a couple of times on the phone, but—”

  “A couple of times on the phone?”

  “She was calling for Mr Earle.” JoAnne looked like she was about to hyperventilate. “I don’t know the woman. She called for him all the time.”

  “So you talked to her more than twice?”

  JoAnne’s face flushed. “Yes, of course I talked to her, but nothing more than saying, ‘Hold on; let me see if he’s in.’ There were two times that I can remember that I had a longer conversation with her.”

  “About?”

  “Once she was very upset, crying hysterically, as I recall. I never could quite understand what the matter was, but at the end of it, I gathered they’d had some sort of fight.”

  “And the other time?”

  “It was shortly before they broke up. She called, was real curt. Snapped at me, said some things about Sammy.”

  “What kinds of things?”

  “Well, I don’t cuss so I couldn’t say, but I’m sure you can figure it out.”

  “So she was mad at him.”

  “You could say that.”

  “Do you know why?”

  JoAnne was staring at Mick, pushing her glasses up her nose with a shaking hand.

  “Ma’am? Do you know why she was mad at Mr. Earle?”

  JoAnn didn’t answer and Mick grew hopeful. The woman knew something. Something very important. “Ma’am? I’m asking if you knew why she was mad. If you know something, you need to say it.”

  JoAnne stood up suddenly, backing away, trembling from head to toe.

  “Ma’am?”

  She stumbled over a rug, catching herself on the side of Earle’s desk. “Stop it! Right there! Stay where you are!”

  Mick squeezed the badge in his hand. “Ms. Meeler, you—”

  “You’re him!” she said frantically. “You’re the—you’re Mick Kline!”

  Mick held out his hands, trying to calm JoAnne down. But the color had drained from her face, and she was now backed up against the far wall of the office.

  “Don’t scream,” Mick said.

  JoAnne opened her mouth like she intended to do just that, but all that came out were strange gurgling noises. One hand was patting her chest as if
she were trying to restart her heart, and the other was pointing and waving at him as if she were hoping it would turn into a gun.

  “Ma’am!” Mick said, his tone cautious but stern. “Calm down! I’m not going to hurt you!”

  JoAnne swallowed, her hands dropping to her sides, then flat against the wall behind her. “Wh-what are you doing here?” Tears brimmed.

  “I’m not going to hurt you,” Mick reiterated. “I’m just here to find out what happened to Taylor. The police want to pin this on me, but I didn’t do it. All I want to know is what happened to Taylor and who’s behind it. That’s all.” He studied JoAnne’s face, and some of what he was saying seemed to register. But she still looked scared.

  Mick continued. “I think Sammy Earle could be behind this. I’ve done some research on him, and the fact of the matter is, he’s not the most compassionate guy around. Heard he’s not very nice.”

  “It’s true,” JoAnne agreed. “He’s not a very nice man.” Her body relaxed a little, though she was still so flat against the wall she looked like part of the wallpaper.

  “Sounds like you have firsthand knowledge of this,” Mick said. He put his hands in his pockets, trying to look casual. JoAnne looked away. “It’s okay. You can tell me. Anything you tell me could help.”

  JoAnne’s nostrils flared, and her expression clouded. “He’s the definition of jerk.”

  “What does he do?”

  “Thinks he rules the world. No respect. No kindness. I don’t know that he’s ever said a nice thing to me, to tell you the truth. Most of the time he complains about my hair or what I wear. It’s like he’s embarrassed that I work for him, but I’m probably the only person who will put up with his ego. I’ve noticed he only treats women this way. He treats me like I’m trash, and I serve him like he’s some king.” She glanced at Mick with shame. “I’m not proud of it.”

  “So why do you work for him?”

  “I probably should tell him where to shove it, but I need this job. It’s got benefits and pays well. So I put up with it. He probably knows that too.”

  “What do his coworkers think of him?”

  “As long as he’s bringing in the big dough and the big clients, what do they care?” JoAnne folded her arms against her chest.

  Mick stepped closer. She hardly seemed to notice. She was thinking something troubling by the way her eyebrows folded inward. “What do you know about his relationship with Taylor?”

  “Not much,” JoAnne said.

  Mick sensed she wasn’t telling everything she knew. “When she disappeared, did people call here, wondering if Sammy was okay or upset?”

  “Naw. Nobody really knew Taylor’s name. I mean, he’d take her to parties and stuff but wouldn’t introduce her to many people. She’d sit in a corner by herself. If a man came up to talk with her, then Sammy would be right there. But other than that, she was expected to just stay out of the way. It was like Sammy wanted a beautiful woman on his arm but didn’t want to deal with caring about her.”

  “He’s a cold man.”

  JoAnne didn’t respond.

  “Look, I need information, and I have a feeling that if roles were reversed, Sammy Earle would have no qualms about digging up dirt on you and sharing it with the world. Now is your chance to give information to somebody who could set things straight. Maybe even save someone’s life.”

  “You think Sammy Earle could murder somebody? or kidnap them?” JoAnne asked.

  “Sounds like he would have no problem getting rid of something that’s in his way, even if it was a human being.”

  JoAnne looked sideways, her eyes cast away in deep thought. Then she looked at Mick. “I’ll tell you this, but I swear I’ll deny it if anybody asks me. Sammy would kill me if he knew I knew. And he doesn’t know I know, so I would rather it stay that way.”

  “Okay.”

  She took a deep breath. “This is all I know. One day—it’s been a year or so ago—Taylor came up here and broke up with Sammy. I think Sammy was pretty shocked. He thought she was totally dependent on him, you know? I guess he didn’t realize there’s only so much a woman can take. So she was really bold, came here to do it in person and give him a piece of her mind. There was a lot of shouting, I know that. And after about fifteen minutes, Taylor left. She looked pretty calm. But Sammy was beside himself. He had to leave the office.”

  “Interesting.”

  JoAnne nodded. “But here’s what I wanted to say. I think this will tell you what kind of person Sammy Earle really is. A couple of weeks after they broke up, he ruined her credit.”

  “How?”

  “Somehow he got ahold of some documents and falsified information, from what I could tell. Anyway, her credit is completely ruined, and she can’t get a credit card or a loan or anything. It will probably take her years to get it straightened out, and of course Sammy covered his tracks really well, I’m assuming. He’s pretty slick.”

  “How do you know this?”

  “I heard most of it through the door. Sammy talks really loud, especially when he’s mad. Taylor called as soon as she figured out what he did, and Sammy just laughed and told her she had it coming.”

  Mick shook his head. “That’s unbelievable. I don’t understand why the police aren’t looking at this angle.”

  “One cop came by not long after it happened. But he’s the only one who’s been here. I guess he was just confirming that Sammy had an alibi. I don’t know what that alibi is, though.”

  Mick scratched his head and leaned on Sammy’s desk. “JoAnne, is there anything else you can tell me that would help?”

  “There’s really not. That’s all I know.”

  Mick sighed.

  The doorknob rattled on Earle’s office door. Mick spun toward the door. JoAnne covered her mouth.

  Outside, they could hear Sammy swearing. “JoAnne! Where are you? My door’s locked! Why is my door locked?!”

  JoAnne stared at Mick, who gestured with his hands to stay calm. He moved closer to her and whispered, “He doesn’t have a key?”

  “No,” she whispered back. “He never locks it.”

  Mick looked out the window. “No fire escape?”

  “Not through this office.” JoAnne was trembling again.

  Mick put a gentle hand on her shoulder while they listened to Sammy curse and call JoAnne all kinds of despicable names. JoAnne’s eyes reflected the lacerating effects of his words.

  “Don’t listen to that nonsense,” Mick said to her, and she looked at him right as Sammy was calling her the dumbest person on earth. “It’s not true. He’s a liar.”

  JoAnne smiled a little. “Thanks.”

  “What do you think he’ll do?”

  JoAnne looked back at the now silent door. “Come on,” she said, pulling at his shirt as she walked toward it. She put her ear to the door and listened. “He’s gone. I’m sure he went to get the janitor.” She cracked the door open and peeked out. Then she pulled Mick out of the office and shoved him toward the door. “Go! Hurry! Get out of here before he comes back!” She grinned, like this was the most excitement she’d had in her life in a long time.

  Mick looked at her. “What about you?”

  Confidence calmed her eyes. “I’ll be fine.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Yeah. Good luck. Now go! And try to find a shower, will you?”

  Mick smiled and raced down the hallway.

  Aaron returned to Taylor’s living room. He couldn’t get himself to leave. Not quite yet. He sat on the couch, trying to imagine what Mick’s time here was like, trying to imagine who this Taylor Franks was. His mind wandered to his worries about Mick and where he might be. Was he even still alive? A detective had called late last night to tell him that they had not found Mick’s body in the fire. But was he hurt? And how in the world did he escape all that? Endless questions. No control.

  All he could do was pray, and so he did. In the home of the stranger whose disappearance had led to this mess, Aaro
n prayed for Taylor, for Mick, for the police. Once there were clear definitions for everybody in his life. Now the lines were blurred. All the boundaries had folded in on top of one another.

  Aaron shook his head. His prayers hit the ceiling and fell flat onto the floor in a smoking heap at his feet.

  Aaron’s stomach grumbled, and he realized he had not eaten anything all day. “Do not eat or drink for three days, night or day.” Aaron sat up on the couch. A fast! Yes, just like Esther and Mordecai. He would fast for three days and three nights. He had nearly completed one day already.

  He knew that the weak body fell easier to the knees than the strong one.

  Even over the buzzing sound of the sharpener, Crawford could hear the birds chirping their delight at the spectacular sunset outside. On this Saturday evening in autumn, Crawford’s firehouse was ablaze. The curtains flapped delicately in the slight breeze through the open windows.

  But as peaceful as the environment was, Crawford’s unsettled spirit gnawed at him, though in a quite innocuous way. He was not one to be torn into pieces on the inside. Merely nibbled at. He’d learned long ago to save himself. At all costs, save himself.

  So, basking in the warm and final light of the day, Crawford mused over the fact that it had been about forty-eight hours since they’d almost captured Mick Kline. How he’d escaped was anybody’s guess, but the theory was that he’d swum downstream. Of course, nobody had known there was even a streambed there, or they might have thought about that. The farmer who owned the land said normally the bed is close to dry, but the wet season had caused it to swell.

  Lucky for Mick Kline.

  Crawford was formulating a plan. Deep in his mind, in a nearly unreachable place that had formed years ago, churned a desire to see things as they should be. And Crawford, long ago, had decided to let that part of himself remain untouched, to rise to be unequal, to play as though there were no boundaries. Oh, it was such a small part of who he was! But powerful. And intelligent. And passionate.