“It all began with a dream.”
When Mike finished, Kelso looked at West. “It’s no secret that Niles likes to hit the high-stakes tables in Atlantic City and Las Vegas.”
West turned to Mike. “It would be foolish to build a case against a state legislator solely based on the testimony of a known criminal like Vann Turner. The key will be bringing pressure against one or more of the other individuals you mentioned and see if one of them turns against his coconspirators.”
Mike handed Kelso a copy of the e-mail. “Do you want to check this out?”
“Yeah, we’ll get our computer guy to work on it. He’s good at tracking things down.”
West shook his head. “I liked it better when the high-tech stuff involved identifying blood types.”
MIKE AND FREEMAN WALKED TOGETHER FROM THE COURTHOUSE.
“How do you think it went?” Freeman asked.
“Too soon to guess. They were listening, but we need something a lot more important than a meeting at the DA’s office. That was a huge risk, but I think it was worth it.”
“Your story was even more convincing the second time,” Freeman said. “You really thought outside the box in your investigation.”
They crossed the street at traffic light four.
“By the way, how did you get the memo of the Hatcher, Bunt, and Linden meeting?” Freeman asked.
Mike stepped onto the sidewalk. “You’re my lawyer, but that needs to stay confidential. I don’t want to jeopardize a close personal relationship.”
When they reached the other side of the street, Freeman spoke. “If we let Kelso dust it, I bet Bobby Lambert’s fingerprints are on it.”
“If I was as smart as you claim,” Mike answered, staring straight ahead. “I’d keep my mouth more tightly shut.”
AT HOME, MIKE PHONED SAM AND TOLD HIM WHAT HAD happened. Peg, who was sitting on the couch reading a book, listened.
“You should have seen their faces when I started off with your dream about the hatchet, nails, and tree,” Mike said. “They probably thought Greg Freeman was going to claim that I was mentally incompetent, but when we left, they were already working on a plan to follow up, using my leads.”
“I wrote a letter to the Brinson boy,” Sam said. “What’s the best way to get it to him at the jail?”
“Did you hear what I told you?” Mike asked. “The arson case against us is unraveling.”
“Yep, but if I don’t get the message to Brinson, I’ll be in a kind of trouble no lawyer can get me out of. Papa has a call on that boy’s life, and he needs to see the way to freedom so he can follow it.”
Mike sighed. “You could send it by mail to the jail, but the quickest way would be to ask Lamar Cochran to deliver it in person.”
“That’s a good idea. I’ll catch Lamar in town tomorrow. He likes to eat breakfast at Traci’s.”
“But don’t tell him anything—”
Mike looked down at the receiver that had gone dead in his hand. He turned to Peg.
“When Sam claimed I was going to be like him,” Mike said, “I thought he meant odd and hard to understand with a box of tattered notebooks on the floor of my closet. But it’s really simple. He cares about other people and what God wants to do in their lives. That’s a good example for anyone to follow.”
Peg took a sip of water. “Pretty soon you’ll be saying ‘Papa’ and rubbing your belly when you have a good idea.”
Mike patted his stomach. “The only idea I have right now has to do with what we’re going to eat for supper.”
Thirty-six
THE FOLLOWING DAY, MIKE RECEIVED A CALL FROM GREG Freeman.
“I just got off the phone with Ken West. Things are happening fast. Kelso brought Vann Turner back in for questioning and confronted him with the gas can evidence, the convenience store video, and who knows what else that he made up. Vann got scared and started shifting blame to Butch Niles.”
“What kind of blame?”
“That Niles used a third party to pass money to Turner as payment for making the 911 call. I suspect Turner, acting alone or with help, is the one who set the fire and then made the call blaming it on you and Sam, but, of course, he didn’t admit that. After that, West came in and raised the specter of the recidivist statute. The thought of a life sentence without parole really loosened Vann’s tongue, and he identified the go-between. That guy and Niles are being brought in for interrogation.”
“Niles is the kind who will roll over on someone else.”
“And West called the state attorney general to notify them of the investigation.”
Mike’s mental wheels were turning. “The federal authorities will also want a piece of Niles, especially when Linden and Bunt are mentioned. I’m sure there’s more to them than I was able to uncover.”
AFTER HE HUNG UP THE PHONE, MIKE WENT INTO THE ART ROOM where Peg was finishing her third watercolor for the baby’s room. A chubby little girl holding a red ball lay on a beach towel in the shade of an umbrella.
“Does that umbrella block all the UV rays?” Mike asked.
“In my picture it does.”
Mike sat on the bed and told her what he’d learned from Greg Freeman.
“It was strange—like hearing information about a case I was handling for someone else,” he said. “But as soon as the call ended, I realized this is about me. West wouldn’t have contacted Freeman if he still harbored doubts about what I told him.”
Peg looked at him anxiously. “So, are the charges against you and Sam going to be dismissed?”
“That wasn’t mentioned.”
“Did you ask him?”
“No,” Mike replied sheepishly. “I was too interested in what he was telling me about the ongoing investigation.”
Peg held out a paintbrush toward him. “Call him back or I’ll paint your nose redder than that ball in the picture!”
Freeman wasn’t in the office, and Mike left a message.
THAT AFTERNOON’S EDITION OF THE LOCAL NEWSPAPER CARRIED a headline in the middle of the front page announcing “Legislator Niles Questioned.”
Mike quickly scanned the article for new information. Braxton Hodges reported that Niles met with Detective Kelso but revealed nothing inflammatory. In fact, the big news was simply the fact of “an ongoing investigation.” Mike finished the article and phoned the reporter.
“That was the teaser article,” Hodges said. “Did you see the quote I got from Niles denying any wrongdoing?”
“Yes.”
“That’s the setup to make him look like a massive liar when the truth comes out. The second article will bring out his gambling habits. It’s all designed to make readers anticipate the next revelation.”
“Who’s providing you information?”
“Not you,” the reporter snapped.
“Don’t be touchy. You didn’t wait on me. Now that I’m the client, not the lawyer, I can talk if you promise not to use my information until confirmed.”
“I confirm everything.”
“Are you recording me?”
There was a brief silence. “Not now.”
“Good. Don’t let your finger slip over to the Record button by accident.”
Mike told him what he knew about the investigation.
“This is what I suspected all along,” Hodges said excitedly. “What about Maxwell Forrest and Bobby Lambert?”
“I hope they’re not involved.”
“Don’t kid me. The lawyers in these kinds of deals always know enough to be indicted as coconspirators.”
“Their names didn’t come up.”
“What about Brian Dressler?”
“He will probably end up as a material witness once he cuts a deal.”
“When will this go public?”
“When the grand jury meets. After that, Ken West will have to issue at least a brief public statement.”
“I need to be ahead of him. Do you have a contact at the Attorney General’s Office in Raleigh
?”
“No, my political connections are paper thin. Judge Coberg is the closest I come to the power structure.”
Hodges was quiet for a second. “Never mind. I know who can give me some inside information.”
AT FIVE O’CLOCK, GREG FREEMAN RETURNED MIKE’S CALL.
“I forgot to ask about the charges against Sam and me,” Mike said. “What’s going to happen?”
“I didn’t know myself until a few minutes ago. Melissa Hall phoned and told me they want to leave everything status quo until indictments are handed down against Hatcher and his crowd. Dismissal of the charges would really tip off potential defendants that they are in the DA’s sights.”
“But the case against Sam and me is dead.”
Freeman paused. “Yes. It’s over.”
MIKE HUNG UP THE PHONE AND TOOK A DEEP BREATH. HE’D grown so used to the crushing weight of his circumstances that he’d forgotten what a stress-free breath of air felt like. He went into the kitchen, found Peg, and told her the good news.
She cried. Mike held her and felt the tension draining from the muscles in her back.
“It’s been worse for you than me,” he said. “I’m sorry.”
Peg wiped her eyes. “You don’t need to apologize. I just want our lives back to normal.”
“Once the charges are dismissed, we won’t be back to normal,” he said, stroking her hair with his hand, “but we’ll be able to start looking for it.”
Peg lifted her chin and gave him a quick kiss. “Normal is the love I have for you. That’s where I want to live for the rest of my life.”
LATER, MIKE COULD HEAR PEG SINGING SOFTLY. IT HAD BEEN A long time between melodies. Peg had hung the picture of the woman who looked like Muriel Miller in the kitchen. Mike looked at it while he phoned Sam.
“Yep. I thought this thing would work itself out,” the old man responded. “What are you doing tomorrow?”
“Uh, I don’t have any plans.”
“I’d like to visit your mountain top. I had a dream about it last night.”
“Is your heart strong enough for a climb?” Mike asked in surprise.
“I saw the doctor yesterday, and he told me to increase my exercise. I’ve been lying about the house too much. I need some fresh air.”
“Do you mind if my dog comes along?”
“Nope.”
“Okay. I’ll pick you up around nine in the morning.”
SAM GOT IN THE CAR AND PATTED JUDGE’S HEAD THAT DRAPED OVER the seat.
“Can we stop for a cup of coffee?” the old man asked. “Muriel likes it weak, and I haven’t had a stout cup since Wednesday.”
“Where do you like to go?”
“The place you passed on the way to the house is fine.”
At the convenience store, Mike also purchased a few snacks for the hike. Sam eyed a rack of spicy beef jerky sticks, but Mike shook his head.
“I don’t want us to get in trouble with Muriel. If she finds out you ate some of those, she won’t let you come outside and play in the future.”
“You’re right, but I can’t be cut off from treats. If that happens, I’ll start dreaming about the foods I can’t eat, and there won’t be time for Papa to show me the important stuff.”
Mike paid for the snacks and coffee.
“Tell me about the dream you had about me.”
“There will be time for that later.”
They arrived at the parking lot for Hank’s Grocery. The weather had been warm all week, and the trees on the hillsides were full of fresh green leaves primed for a busy summer of photosynthesis. Clouds streaked the sky, but they were wispy and high up. The early morning breeze had died down by the time they parked near the trailhead.
“I always tell the man who owns the grocery that I’m here,” Mike said when he turned off the car.
Mike and Sam entered the store. Judge stayed in the vehicle with the window cracked open and barked in anticipation of the hike. Buzz Carrier was behind the counter. He glanced up at Mike then awkwardly looked away.
“Buzz, I know what you’ve heard,” Mike said. “But it’s not true. Soon things will start coming out in the open. Keep reading the paper before you sell the last copy, and you’ll find out.”
“Sorry, Mike, it was a shock to our family. I didn’t know what to think.”
Sam looked around the store. “You sell about everything, don’t you?”
“Yes, sir, but I can’t compete with the big-box outfits. They sell most items for less than what I have to pay for them.”
Sam pointed to an index card covered with faded pencil writing that was taped to the wall behind the cash register.
“Did your daddy write that card?”
Buzz turned. “Yeah. It’s some Bible verses about running an honest business. Did you know him?”
“Nope.” Sam rubbed the top of his head. “But I don’t think your daddy would be upset if you decided to sell this place and open a motorcycle shop.”
Buzz’s mouth dropped open. He looked at Mike.
“Did you know that’s what I’ve been thinking about doing?”
“No,” Mike replied. “I saw your motorcycle parked out front last summer, but you never mentioned opening a shop to me.”
Buzz kept talking to Sam as if he’d not heard Mike. “But I didn’t want to go against the family heritage. We’ve run this place for three generations. I wanted to get my daddy’s permission to sell it when he was sick in the hospital, but he died before I got the chance.”
“You’re a good man, and you honored him when he was alive,” Sam said. “Now, it’s time to go in the direction you believe is right.”
Buzz nodded his head several times then stuck out his hand to Sam.
“Thanks, I really appreciate you talking to me. What’s your name?”
Mike answered. “This is Sam Miller, the other man charged with setting fire to the Little Creek Church.”
For the third time, Buzz looked perplexed. “Oh, sorry about that. You fellows have a good hike. And take your time. I’ll keep an eye on the car.”
Sam smiled. “When you open your motorcycle business, put that card behind the cash register.”
Mike and Sam left the store and walked to the car. Mike opened the door, and Judge bounded out.
“Do you have any questions?” Sam asked as they moved toward the opening in the trees that marked the beginning of the old logging road.
“Let me answer it myself,” Mike replied. “Papa told you what to say to Buzz because He loves him and wants to help him. What else should I ask?”
Sam chuckled. “I’m not used to you talking this way.”
“Too confusing?” Mike asked.
“Yep. Let me ponder your question while we walk.”
Mike carried a small backpack and set a slow pace, but Sam didn’t seem to have any problem keeping up. As they walked along, the old man began identifying the trees and plants. Mike was amazed at Sam’s knowledge.
“You must learn a lot working in lawn maintenance,” Mike said after Sam identified a small fern sprouting from the middle of a moss patch.
“Papa has given us a beautiful world. I enjoy finding out as much about it as I can.”
They took a couple of water breaks. Sam took sips from his water bottle. Mike took out the blue plastic bowl and served Judge. At the second stop, Sam took a deeper drink.
“I’m glad this part of the trial is going to be over soon,” the old man said.
Mike propped his foot on a boulder and glanced up at the approaching ridgeline.
“You mean trail.”
“No, this test you and I’ve been going through. It’s not been easy. My business is down to nothing, and worry has put wrinkles on Muriel’s face in places that will be hard for her to make happy with her best smile.”
“Yeah. Peg is emotionally drained, and I’ve been—” Mike stopped and looked at Sam. “You know, I’ve been stressed out, but I’m more thankful than ever. God met me in that jai
l cell and put a peace in my heart unlike anything I imagined existed. It’s crazy, but what makes me sad now is the news about what is going to happen to Jack Hatcher, Butch Niles, and the other people who tried so hard to destroy our lives.”
Sam smiled. “Papa knew what He was doing when He told me to ask you for help. Do you know why it upsets you when you hear that someone is going to be caught and judged for their sins?”
“No.”
“Because Papa wants to save people. These folks deserve to be punished, but if you’d never met Jack Hatcher and ran into him in a jail cell, would you tell him about the Master?”
“I hope so.”
Sam patted Mike on the shoulder. “You would. Papa is letting you know what it means to love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you. I’ve been praying for those men since the day I had my dream. If I ever start hating them, I’d be in jail whether the sheriff ’s department puts me there or not. Now, even if they all go to prison, it won’t be the end of our job. The Helper wants to help them get right with the Master.”
They reached the crest of the hill. A pleasant breeze greeted them.
“Now, I want my dream,” Mike demanded.
Sam took a few deep breaths. “Can’t I enjoy the view of the promised land for a few minutes? Think about what I said. Judge wants to show me an interesting smell.”
Mike watched the old man follow the dog around the meadow. Twice, Sam bent over as if sampling a scent himself. In a few minutes, he returned.
The two men stood near the rock where God called Mike into the ministry and gazed over the valleys and hills of Barlow County.
“You know,” Sam said, “a mountain top isn’t just a place on earth; it’s a vision Papa puts in your heart. How big a ministry does the Master have for you?”
“I don’t know. Right now, it’s Peg.”
Sam nodded. “That’s a good answer—if you also include baby Isaac.”
Mike laughed.
“See, even the mention of his name makes you laugh.”
“Okay, tell me the dream.”
Sam was silent. They continued to gaze at the scene. When Mike finally glanced at Sam, he saw a tear running down the old man’s right cheek.
Mountain Top Page 42
