Sonya’s bottom lip quivered with her futile attempt to respond. A confession erupted. “I didn’t know in the beginning. Honestly, I didn’t. By the time you told me you would be investigating Greater Metropolitan, I was afraid to tell you about my membership.” She sniffed hard and wiped at both eyes with the heels of her hands. “Somehow, I felt like my job would be in jeopardy if I told you. So, I just started looking for another church. I was going to tell Greater Metropolitan that I’d be moving my membership. Then I decided the best thing to do was just leave quickly and quietly.”
Her explanation sounded plausible. He gained composure. “Sonya, you still should have told me. I rely on honesty and full disclosure from the people who work for me. It’s not acceptable for you to keep something this important from me,” Maxwell chided. He felt the veins in his temples pulsating.
She stood up and her words were hard to decipher through the tears and emotion stuck in her throat. “Please, Mr. Montgomery, don’t fire me. I’ve left many churches since I started working for you. Every time I join a church, and start to feel like I can get comfortable there, you start investigating them.”
Maxwell felt sorry for her, because he suspected she’d be looking indefinitely for a good church, if there was such a beast.
“I grew up in the church. It’s an important part of me. I just keep choosing the wrong one. I’ve never even had a conversation with Bishop Jones about anything. His membership is so big. Most members never interact with him personally. Please believe me; I would never ever betray you in any way. I need this job. My nephew is ill, and I want to help my sister financially. Please, please don’t fire me.” She wiped the tears from her now-puffy eyes only to have them followed by another stream of salty water.
He was touched. Maxwell reached across his desk and handed her the box of tissue. The knowledge of her ill nephew pricked at his heart. He thought about Tyree. He also thought about the impact that his pursuit of corrupt churches had on Sonya without realizing it. But in essence, he had done her a favor. Maxwell was about to do her one more favor.
“Stop crying, Sonya.”
“I can’t help it. I really don’t want you to think that I’m disloyal. I don’t know what I’ll do if I lose this job.” She pressed her fingers against the corners of her eyes preventing the forming tears from falling. Sonya then pulled two tissues from the box and blew her nose.
“Relax; I’m not going to fire you. But, understand me, and understand me good. I will not accept anything remotely resembling disloyalty, conflict of interest, half-truths or nondisclosure in the future. Let’s be clear, you will be terminated immediately. Look, I’m not trying to give you a hard time. I just have to be sure there is no cause to doubt you.”
“No cause,” she echoed and hugged him quickly. “Thank you, thank you so much. I won’t let you down. Oh, yes, I’m considering checking out Pastor Renaldo Harris’s church, Faith Temple. He’s not on your hit list is he?” Sonya giggled. “I’m sorry. I mean he’s not on your list to be investigated is he?”
Maxwell let out a light snicker. “No, he’s not yet but join at your own risk.” He was pretty sure Sonya was being honest and hadn’t been planted in his office by Bishop Jones. Besides, Garrett had already checked her out thoroughly once he found out she was a member of Jones’s church. Although nothing detrimental was discovered, Maxwell felt justified in confronting her. She had to know how much value he placed on loyalty and trust. He was certain she’d gotten the message.
Chapter 25
Maxwell’s drive home was quick since it was late and the evening rush hour traffic had long died off. Once inside the house, he tossed his briefcase, keys, and suit jacket onto the leather chaise in the corner of the living room. He sank into the oversized sofa and folded his hands behind his head. Tranquility was elusive. Maxwell was very anxious about having so much mounting evidence against the bishop, but he hadn’t come up with a real headlining theme yet. He tossed and turned on the sofa. Every piece of evidence, every clue that led to another investigative opportunity, and every conversation with each landowner flashed through Maxwell’s mind like a slide show. He couldn’t decide whether to make the civil case surrounding the land scheme or press the prosecutor for criminal charges.
For a few minutes, he thought about what his father went through years ago. An innocent man behind bars, his livelihood, family, and reputation all ripped away. Maxwell swung his fist hard into the air. He had enough to build both a civil and criminal case. The more he pondered, the more agitated he became. Why did he have to choose? He’d go after it all. Bishop Jones would have to pay for his sins. His reputation would have to be destroyed just like Maxwell’s father’s had been. He wanted revenge. Lying there, he imagined the rage in the bishop’s eyes. Maxwell could see the humiliation painted on the bishop’s face as the criminal courtroom echoed “Guilty” and the civil case resulted in “We find in favor of the plaintiff”. Jubilations washed over Maxwell’s body. The wrinkles on his forehead faded, and he stopped clenching his teeth. His breathing slowed down as he fell asleep.
The third ring of the doorbell summoned Maxwell from his peaceful nap. His eyelids popped open, and he peered at his watch. He’d been asleep for about thirty-five minutes. The doorbell rang again with Maxwell panning around the room a little groggy. He rubbed his eyes and released a wide-mouthed yawn. He peeked through the long side panel of beveled glass next to the door. Nicole stood there with her cell phone out. Maxwell opened the door.
“I was just about to call you. I’ve been ringing your doorbell for over five minutes. Are you okay?” Nicole gently touched his face allowing her fingertips to slide down along the frame of his jaw and then over the curve of his bottom lip. She stepped into his space and planted a soft peck onto his lips.
“Hey, yeah, I’m okay; I just fell asleep for a minute on the sofa. Come on in; sorry I kept you standing outside.”
Nicole took hold of Maxwell’s hand, squeezed it, and led him over to the sofa where they both sat. “How have you been?” she asked.
“Fine, just busy; you know how it goes.” Maxwell wasn’t fully alert. With the strain between him and Nicole, he didn’t know what to say even if he had been fully alert. He’d have to stumble along. “You look nice. Were you out of town?”
“Yes, I was actually. I stopped by here before going home. I was hoping we could talk again. We haven’t spoken since my last visit.”
“I guess so.”
Her eyes fell away from his as she caressed the backside of his hand. “Well, you know, we both needed space to think.” Her eyes darted back to his while a few moments of silence made the short distance between them feel like a valley to Nicole.
“I haven’t really been able to think about much of anything other than work.”
“Come on, Maxwell, that’s exactly what I’m talking about. You can’t live your life with work being your only interest. There are some rewards that can never be attained through a career, no matter how much you invest. That is just not the way life is designed.” Nicole traced the edge of his hairline with her finger and kissed his cheek. “I’ve learned that myself over the last few weeks. I want my life’s legacy to be more than a six- or seven-figure salary and a slew of awards.” She glanced at his award sitting on the mantle.
Maxwell got up and pulled a large brown folder out of his briefcase. “I really can’t do this right now. I’m tied up on a big case and that’s not going to change anytime soon. I should be working right now.” Saved by his ringing cell phone, Maxwell held up his index finger and said, “Give me just a few minutes. I need to take this call. I’m sorry.” He walked down the hall and into his office.
Nicole’s eyes scanned the room, taking in the assortment of beautiful things. She especially admired the cathedral ceilings and the glossy black piano, which was showcased in the open space just above the living room in the loft area. Each piece of art, sculpture, and painting represented something or made some type of statement. The fa
ct that Nicole didn’t see one single family photo in Maxwell’s home or his office also made a statement. She was forced to wonder why he was so empty inside. Was he incapable of feeling or wanting anything on a personal level? What stripped away the tenderness from his heart? There had to be something that prevented him from thirsting for anything other than the next win in the courtroom.
Maxwell returned. “I’m really sorry about the interruption. It was business, and I just couldn’t put it off.”
She took one more look at the award sitting on the mantle then stood up and went to Maxwell. “I guess work is the only thing you are willing to be fully committed to. The only real thing you can give all of yourself to and not hold back on any level.” Maxwell looked away. “I know I can’t change that about you. And, I guess I don’t really want to. It’s who you are and unfortunately I have to accept that.” She stepped closer to him, as close as she could possibly get. Nicole wrapped her arms around his neck and nestled her face against his cheek. She inhaled, slowly, drawing in one last whiff of him, not wanting to let go. “We’re not traveling the same path. We don’t want the same things.” Her eyes burned, so she squeezed her lids together tightly. “That makes me sad, but it is what it is.” She blew out an elongated exhaled. “I wish you well. I hope one day there will be someone truly special in your life.” She released her hold on him. “You deserve more than a stack of folders to spend your evenings with.” Nicole pressed her lips against his briefly. She walked away from him without another word and without waiting for any response he had to offer.
Maxwell followed her to the door in silence. Dignity ushered Nicole to the door and she left without resistance. He closed the door pressing his hand against the frame as the other was holding on to the knob. Maxwell thought about the day he’d met Nicole. They’d simultaneously pulled up to a corner parking space. Neither was willing to give into the other. He knew then she was headstrong and would offer him a challenge. Despite their recent conflict, he had plenty of fond memories. Their relationship may have been unconventional, but he enjoyed having her in his space. Maxwell knew he was going to miss her, but there wasn’t an option. The boundary lines were drawn. He absolutely couldn’t allow anything or anyone to mean more to him than his mission to annihilate Bishop Jones. Sacrifices were his and had been his faithful companion for nearly a lifetime.
Chapter 26
Bishop waited patiently in his office. As the night rushed in, silence hummed throughout the office. Church events had concluded an hour ago. His secretary had been gone for hours, and the janitor had just left. Bishop Jones was alone, as it should be for his upcoming meeting. He’d gotten Jill Smith’s contact information from Simmons. When Bishop Jones called to make the appointment with her, he was careful not to fully reveal his intent. Hopefully Simmons hadn’t clued her in. He wasn’t sure and couldn’t worry about unknowns. About ten-fifteen, the phone rang.
“Bishop Jones, I’m at the side door.”
“I’ll be right there,” he said rushing out to let her in.
They didn’t speak much on the way to his office. It was awkward but necessary. Once they reached his office, he offered her a seat and closed the door.
“Why did you want to see me?” she asked seeming to squirm in the seat.
Bishop sat in a seat next to her. “Can I call you Jill?”
“Sure, that’s fine, but can you tell me why you wanted to meet with me so late or do I already know the answer?” she stated.
“Whoa, sister,” Bishop said drawing away. “I’m not Minister Simmons.”
The worry in her face didn’t vanish. “Then what do you want?”
“For you to stop your dealings with Minister Simmons. He has a family, and there’s no place for you in that picture.”
Fear appeared to sweep over Jill. She became visibly restless. “I will,” she mumbled until Bishop interrupted.
“I’m not here to judge you, but I do plan to get my message across.”
She began crying. “I didn’t want to do any of this, but I had no choice.”
“We always have choices.”
“Not me. Without the minister’s help how am I going to get my medicine?” she screamed out.
The outburst shocked Bishop and he was initially unprepared to respond. Careful not to cross the line, he refused to touch her even in a comforting way. She was vulnerable and he wasn’t getting caught in that age-old trap. He’d seen too many colleagues get crushed in those situations. The best he could do was hand her a tissue. “What’s this business about your medicine?”
“I have chronic back pain and my doctor won’t give me what I need anymore.”
“Why not?”
“He says I’m already on too many other medications and the one that works for me is too addictive. So, he won’t prescribe it. Minister Simmons lets me have a supply every month and it helps a lot. I wouldn’t be able to function without it. I couldn’t take care of my kids without the relief I get from the medicine,” she replied becoming overly emotional again.
“I wasn’t aware of your situation.” Her explanation caused him to pause. Maybe she wasn’t just a wayward woman looking for a quick fix and wad of cash. He had children. It wasn’t difficult to have compassion for her, but he had to set his personal feelings aside. One thing about him, he knew how to separate emotion from achieving goals. There had been countless instances in his ministry when he’d felt sorry about having to make moves that were unpleasant for others. “Maybe I can help you?”
“How?” she asked, sniffling. Reluctantly she said, “I’ll do whatever I have to do.” She leaned toward him and he stood to move farther away.
“Well, I want you to do what’s pleasing before God,” he said gripping the chair’s arm. “Let’s think about how the church and I can help you.”
“My medicine; I need to keep getting my medicine. Can you help me with that? That’s all I want. That’s all I need,” she said, much calmer.
“Then you’ll get your medicine. However, it will be done legally and under a doctor’s supervision. The church will help you find a doctor who will assess your medical needs.”
Jill wiped at her eyes with the back of both hands and cleared her thoughts. “I can’t pay for it.”
“I know, and that’s what the church is for, to help those who can’t help themselves. We’ll cover the cost,” he said walking to his desk. The notion snipped at his heart thinking about his grandson’s situation.
“Really, thank you. Thank you so much,” Jill responded after blowing her nose.
“Ms. Smith, I have to be very clear. You are to stop seeing Minister Simmons. The pills and whatever else you’re doing together has to stop right now,” Bishop Jones stated firmly as he stood stabbing his forefinger down into the top of his desk. “I’ve spoken with Minister Simmons, and I’ve told him the same thing. Do we understand each other?”
“I hear you, Bishop, loud and clear.”
“Good, I’m glad we have an understanding. I’ll have one of the church mothers call you about setting up the doctor’s appointment.”
“No, Bishop, I don’t want anyone else to know about me and this pill thing.”
“Don’t worry. Everything will be done in the strictest of confidence. The church doesn’t want to judge or punish you. We just want to help you.”
Chapter 27
It was midmorning and Maxwell had been shut up in his office for several hours scouring city records, statements from the landowners, Garrett’s copious notes, and several law books. His meticulous consideration of every aspect of the case against Bishop Jones was an absolute necessity. Normally, Maxwell relied on Sonya to provide most of the research, legal precedents, and statutes used to build a case. Not this round. He didn’t trust anyone to be as thorough on this one as him. He stopped writing his brief to review what he’d come up with so far. His finger moved down the paper, guiding his eyes carefully over every word. He turned the page with so much force it made a popping noise. H
e read the sixth page, planted his elbows on the desk, and lowered his forehead into the palm of his hands.
Minutes of taunting quietness passed as Maxwell thought about what this case meant to him, how much he had invested and how much he had lost along the way. He slowly dragged his hands over his head. He massaged the back of his neck squeezing hard at the ball of tension resting there. He started to pick up the pencil again. Instead, he picked up the cup of coffee sitting on his desk and hurled it across the room into the wall.
Sonya knocked on the door rapidly and then yelled out. “Mr. Montgomery, are you okay?” Maxwell didn’t respond. Just as he wiped at his forehead with a handkerchief, Sonya opened his door. “I’m sorry for barging in, but I heard a loud noise, and you didn’t answer. Is everything okay?”
“My coffee cup had an accident.”
Sonya followed Maxwell’s gaze to the wall behind the door. “Oh, my goodness, I’ll get some paper towels and clean it up,” she offered, letting her gaze shift from the mess on the floor to Maxwell and then to the mess again.
“That can wait. Come on in and close the door, please.”
Sonya walked closer and stopped in the middle of the floor. “Yes, Mr. Montgomery.”
“Have a seat. I want to ask you something.” Maxwell nodded his head toward the chair in front of his desk.
“I haven’t been back to Greater Metropolitan. I promise,” she announced. “I have not.”
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