Chapter 34
Christ Chapel was a white, wood-frame church no bigger than a house. It was off I-10 in northwest Tucson, right next to a neighborhood of mobiles homes. Flames devoured the church as two fire trucks nearly as big at the church itself churned out a forceful, white stream of water through a hole in the roof that billowed smoke. On the sidewalk in front of the church, black spray paint scrawled out what they now knew was Arabic for jihad. In front of the word were the numbers 1253.
Pete and George stood next to Sandra Davis and her WKLD camera crew. Sandra prepared to go on air.
“We shouldn’t have let that guy go,” George said. “Every one of his witnesses were Muslim. I bet they’re covering for him.”
“It wasn’t my call. The guy had Joe Halsey for his lawyer. We couldn’t get the charges to stick.”
Sandra Davis started her broadcast. “I’m standing here in front of Christ Chapel where, as you can see, flames engulf the tiny church. Witnesses say the church’s minister is missing and they fear his body may lie inside. This just four days after Anwar Rahal, a known radical Muslim, was arrested for suspicion of committing two counts of arson and the murder of a Catholic priest. Rahal was released from custody early yesterday morning without bail. Police haven’t said if there is a connection with the other two fires. I’m Sandra Davis. Stay tuned to WKLD for details as they emerge. Back to you, Sam.”
“Well, there goes the neighborhood,” Pete said.
“That’s not good,” George said. “Every Bible thumper in Arizona’s going to be breathing down our necks over this.”
“Or worse, they may be burning down the mosques.”
“Shouldn’t have let him go.”
“We’ll pick him up again and question him. But I’m telling you, George, for once I’m with Halsey. I don’t think the kid’s lying. I can smell a lie and all I smelled on him was his girl’s perfume. Somebody’s setting him up, I can feel it. It’s no coincidence the real killer waited until Anwar was released to commit this crime. Anwar seems like a smart kid. Even if he was guilty, he wouldn’t be dumb enough to burn this church down right after he got out.”
“And kill the minister.”
“I hope you’re wrong about that. We’ll find out when the smoke clears.”
****
Pete sat flustered, pondering three photographs aligned vertically on his desk. The top photo was of the black spray paint on the sidewalk in front of Holy Ghost Catholic Church—the numbers 1035 and the Arabic word for jihad. The second photo was the one taken of the sidewalk at the Jewish synagogue up in the Catalina Foothills. It read 76 and the Arabic word for jihad. The third photo was one taken three days ago, at the little Christ Chapel next to Gardner Estates. Black paint on the sidewalk said 1253 and the Arabic word for jihad.
“What’s the connection?” Pete uttered to himself. What did those numbers mean? They were a clue the killer had intentionally left. He was sending a message. But what? What was this lunatic trying to say?
George stepped into Pete’s office. “You figure it out yet?”
“Nobody has it figured out. Not even the FBI. This just blows my mind.”
“Maybe it doesn’t mean anything. He could be toying with us. Why give us a clue that helps him get caught?”
“I don’t know. You might be right. Is that the ballistics report in your hand?”
“It is,” George said and handed him the papers. “It was a .38, same gun used on the priest.”
“That’s no surprise.”
“Only, the minister was shot in the chest. Twice.”
“Any other evidence? Witnesses?”
“Nope.”
“Anybody say they heard a motorcycle?”
“No, but get this. I showed a picture of a ‘78 Lincoln Town Car, like Amari said tried to run her off the road. One of the neighbors thinks he may have seen a car that looked like that on the next street over from the church, but he wasn’t sure. It was dark.”
Pete rubbed the back of his neck. A sense of dread overcame him.
“Don’t worry, Pete. You got twenty-four-seven protection on Amari. The priest and the minister weren’t armed. They never knew what hit them. At least Amari’s on the lookout.”
“That’s true.”
“You ever think about getting her out of town? Put her in hiding somewhere?”
“I mentioned it once to her, but she wouldn’t go for it. Besides, if I did that, I couldn’t have a patrol officer protecting her. What if this guy just followed her out of town and got her where she had no protection?”
“You could go with her.”
“Then who’s going to find this killer?”
“I don’t know, Pete, I’m just thinking.”
“I appreciate that. By the way, you hear anything about the whereabouts of Anwar Rahal?” Shouting from down the hall interrupted Pete. He went to his door and closed it. “Anyway, I talked to his father and he hasn’t heard from him and neither has anyone at the dorm.”
“I haven’t heard anything. Maybe he pulled one last job and skipped town.”
“I don’t think so. My gut tells me no. And his mother is really worried. He was at her house the night before the church fire, but he never showed the night of the fire. She made his favorite dinner. He was supposed to be there but went missing.”
“You got a BOLO out on him, don’t you?”
“Of course, he’s the prime suspect. But he’s vanished.”
“You mean escaped,” George clarified.
“Wherever, he’s gone, that’s all I know. And what’s all that racket going on down the hall? I can hardly hear myself think.”
“You haven’t heard?”
“Heard what? I’ve been busy trying to decipher this crazy code.” More clamor came from down the hall, muffled by the closed door. “So what’s going on down there?”
“They just brought in some nut-job from Avra Valley. He’s got an arsenal in his house.”
“One of those survivalist types?”
“Something like that, only this one apparently needed cash and was caught selling illegally. As you can hear, he’s not happy about it. ATF is on the way. And get this, he had military stuff. Don’t know how he got it. Machine guns, hand grenades, even some of those fire grenades.”
“You mean incendiary grenades?”
“That’s right. You ever use one of those? I know you were in the army.”
“Once. In Korea. I threw one down the barrel of enemy artillery. Wanted to make sure they couldn’t reuse it. They’ve got thermite in them. Melted the barrel right off.”
“Wow, that’s hot.”
“This guy had some of those?”
“And regular grenades. He was selling them out of his trunk for a hundred bucks a piece.”
“So where did he get them?”
“Stolen, I guess. That’s for the ATF guys to figure out.”
“You know what bothers me? It’s who would have bought some of those? I’m afraid after the ATF guys are gone, we’ll be dealing with this later.”
George pointed to the pictures on Pete’s desk. “You’re right. This guy likes fire. I bet he’d be in the market.”
Apprehension built within Pete and he knew it was time to up the ante. “All right, that clinches it. I’ve got a phone call to make.”
“Who you calling?”
“A friend in Washington DC.”
“Someone from the FBI?”
“No, someone from the police academy.”
“Washington police academy? What’s that got to do with this case?”
“I’ll tell you later.”
****
Amari and her dad sat on her couch watching the evening news. She glanced out the window and saw Kevin coming to the front door. She got up and let him in. “Hey, Kevin, my dad’s here already. We’re watching the news.”
He came inside and tipped his orange baseball cap to her dad.
“Have a seat,” Dad said. “I’ll show you those pictures in ju
st a minute. I want to see this next story first.”
Kevin sat next to her and waited for the commercial to finish. Finally, Sam Brown of WKLD came on the screen, an image of an angry mob as his backdrop.
“Turmoil in Tucson erupted today as members from several area churches picketed outside of both area mosques. We have reports that the imam of the mosque on Speedway Boulevard was badly beaten by one of the protesters. Things don’t look any better at the mosque downtown. Sandra Davis has the story.”
The shot switched to Sandra. “I’m standing here at the Islamic Community center near campus, and let me tell you, things are getting ugly. As you can see, police have arrived to break up the protest and I even watched the police arrest a protester who waved a gas can over his head and threatened to burn the mosque to the ground. ‘An eye for an eye’ is what I heard him say.”
The screen switched back to Sam. “In the aftermath of two clergy member murders and the burning of two Christian churches and a synagogue, this reaction comes as no surprise because the main suspect in this case is a Muslim named Anwar Rahal. The latest attack occurred just one day after he was released from jail for suspicion of committing the other three crimes. Coincidentally, after the murder of Christ Chapel’s minister and the burning of his church, Anwar Rahal has gone missing. Clearly, many people are not happy about that. We here at WKLD pray that things will settle down soon before anybody else gets hurt.” Sam turned his attention to the weather girl. “Betty, what’s the weather looking like tomorrow?”
Dad grabbed the remote and flipped off the TV. “That’s just perfect. I was afraid of this.”
“So you really don’t think Rahal’s son was behind this?” she asked.
“No, Amari, I don’t. I was there when they did the polygraph. He’s not lying.”
“Then why did he skip town?”
“I don’t know. But I have a bad feeling about that.”
“A house divided, will not stand,” Kevin said.
“What’s that?” Dad asked.
“The news. How the Christians and the Muslims are fighting each other. It just reminds me of Matthew 3:35. Jesus said, ‘a house divided, cannot stand.’”
Dad furrowed his brows and pondered Kevin’s words. “Hold that thought,” he said and went into the kitchen. He came back carrying an envelope. “These are the pictures I wanted you to look at. Now I’m wondering if these numbers could be Bible verses.”
“I’ll give it a look,” Kevin said. “But I’m not sure I can help.”
“Don’t sell yourself short. Amari tells me you got the social grace of an Amazon piranha in a swimming pool, but you got a brain like a computer. Put these numbers in your head and see what happens.”
She rolled her eyes at her dad. “Kevin, I promise I didn’t say that. I just told him you were . . . special, that’s all. I told him you might be able to help us with this case.”
A wide grimace spread on Kevin’s face. “That’s hysterical. Piranha in a swimming pool. Can I use that sometime?”
“Be my guest. I’ll put it on a T-shirt for you if you can help solve this case.”
“I’ll help If I can. I brought my thinking cap,” he said and pointed to his bold, orange cap with the capital white letter T. “I bought this the day Tennessee beat Bama in 82. Broke a twelve-year losing streak. I’ve worn it for every test I’ve taken since. Never fails me.”
“Then let’s see how it works,” Dad said and handed him the three pictures. “Now, we know that is Arabic for jihad, but what we don’t know is what those numbers mean. Do those numbers mean anything to you? Any Bible verses come to mind?”
“Hmmm,” Kevin said and rubbed at his afternoon shadow. His eyes darted back and forth between numbers.
“Take your time,” she said. “Just relax and see what comes to you.”
“Hmmm,” Kevin said again and tapped his finger against his lip. “Amari, hand me that Bible on your book shelf, will you?”
She handed him the Bible and he flipped to Matthew 10:35. “Yep, just what I thought. That number 1035 refers to another verse in Matthew. You see, it says, ‘For I came to set a man against his father, and a daughter against her mother, and a daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law.’ And you see right next to the verse it says to also see Micah 7:6. That other number is 76.”
“That’s the one for the Jewish synagogue,” Dad said. “That must be why he refers to the Old Testament.”
“Let’s see,” Kevin said and flipped the pages to Micah 7:6. “Right here, ‘For son treats father contemptuously, Daughter rises up against her mother, Daughter-in-law against her mother-in law.’ It says the same thing basically, only this was for the Jews. And I think that other number refers to Luke 12:53.” Kevin flipped the pages to that verse. “Yep, says basically the same thing. So the two Christian churches get the New Testament verses and the synagogue gets the Old Testament one.”
“That is amazing,” Dad said. “All this time the FBI’s been on this, and you figure it out in a few seconds.”
“You have to know the Bible to know the verses,” Kevin said. “They would have had better luck asking Billy Graham.”
“So how does this help us find the killer?” Dad asked.
“I think we know his motive now,” Kevin said. “That’s something.”
“I don’t see motive from those verses,” Dad said.
“I see it,” Amari said. “It’s what Kevin said earlier. ‘A house divided will not stand.’ He’s trying to make the religions fight against each other. He burns the Christian and Jewish churches, then blames the Muslims.”
“And the Christians and Jews play right into his hand and oppose the Muslims,” Dad said. “He’s trying to kill two birds with one stone. Maybe he thinks he’s going to start some kind of holy war. Kevin, you’re a genius.”
“Must have been my lucky hat.”
“Then can you use that hat to tell us who’s behind all of this?”
“Not from what you gave me. What I did was the easy part. All I can tell you is this guy knows his Bible.”
Dad took the photos and dropped them back into the envelope. “And he’s got a serious beef with people who believe in that Bible.”
“And the Quran,” Kevin said. “He doesn’t care for Muslims either.”
Chapter 35
Amari pulled her Camaro onto campus and headed toward the student union parking garage. A Tucson Police Department cruiser followed close behind. They followed her everywhere, even to work at Pizza Hut, where the officer sat inside during her entire shift and followed her home afterward. She hated being followed. It was a creepy feeling. Still, she knew it was for her own good. Even though she missed her privacy, she was glad they had her back.
She pulled up to the Second Street parking garage and waited her turn to enter. She glanced into her rearview mirror. Where was the police cruiser? She must have lost him at the last red light. It was okay, she told herself. The university was crawling with campus police. Nobody would try anything in broad daylight.
She found a spot on the top level and parked. She retrieved the student parking hang tag from her glove compartment and hung it on the mirror post so she wouldn’t get a ticket. She’d gotten the hang tag the day before when she paid her spring semester tuition—with the help of her dad—and prepared to start her last semester before graduating with a bachelor’s in criminal justice. Classes started next week. Of course, she may need to skip class for a few days so she and Kevin could fly to Turin and speak to the cardinal, but she was more than willing for her grades to take the hit. So far, the bishop had not called, but she remained hopeful.
She exited the parking garage and walked to the student union. She was meeting Kevin for lunch. She had put any notion of a romance between her and Kevin out of her head. If he had any feelings other than friendship, he would let them show in his own time. Rushing him was counterproductive. Besides, she was happy being his friend. It was better than nothing.
She gl
anced around and did not see the patrol officer. She’d lost him, all right. That was okay, wasn’t it? She was in public now, lots of people. What could happen?
She continued into the food court and met up with Kevin. They bought their food and went out to eat on the patio. It was a cool January day, but Kevin always needed some fresh air after being stuck inside all day.
She set her burrito down. “So any news about Rahal’s son?”
“Not a word,” Kevin said and dipped a chip into salsa. “Rahal seems pretty sensitive about it, so I dare not ask.”
“You think something bad happened to him?”
“I don’t know. I’d like to believe he really is the killer and he skipped town before he got caught. But apparently, your dad thinks he’s being set up.”
A fire truck screamed down the street. She craned her neck to see. She smelled a hint of smoke, from somewhere close to where she’d parked.
“It’s always something,” she said, tilting her head in the direction of the fire. “I’m still a little worried about you. Have you noticed anything, had any threats? Whoever ran us off the road ran us both off the road.”
“I saw a black Mercedes at my apartment complex the other day.”
“You serious? That means they’re following you too.”
“I think they must live there. I’ve seen it several times. It’s a common car.”
“If you could afford that car, would you be living where you are now?”
“Good point. Maybe it’s a rich guy dating someone there. Who knows. It’s a common car. Don’t worry about me. I wasn’t the one on the national news, remember?”
“That’s true.”
The smoke got heavier and she could see it now, billowing from the parking garage. A campus police officer cupped his hands around his mouth to amplify his voice. “Does anyone own a white Camaro? Correction, did anybody own a white Camaro?”
****
Dad, George, several fire fighters, and half the Tucson police department stood with Amari and Kevin as they watched the smoldering remains of Amari’s 1978 white Camaro Z28. Used to be white. Everything but the front and rear bumpers was charred black.
Carbon-14: The Shroud of Turin (An Amari Johnston Novel) Page 21
