Feeling his heart begin to race with sudden excitement, the doors opened behind him.
When he turned his head, his body followed. The pastor expected more members of his congregation to follow just as they had streamed through his opened doors steadily since mid-morning but, this time, the man was alone.
“Welcome, my brother.” The pastor clasped his hands in front of him and smiled. The stranger hid beneath a worn baseball cap and took a moment to look around. “Please, come inside. This is a safe place for all.”
Without responding, the man swept his gaze across the walls before locking on the pastor’s eyes. The pastor felt his ribs squeeze when the stranger’s dark, piercing gaze narrowed on his own. The man’s look was not one of grief or sorrow like the other faces he had seen pouring through his doors today. Instead, his was one of confusion.
“Speak with me, my brother.” The pastor took tiny steps toward his visitor. “What is it that brings you into God’s house tonight?”
The stranger lifted his foot and walked confidently toward the pastor at a relaxed pace. He carried a guitar case and didn’t appear bothered by the pastor continuing to speak without receiving a response.
“If you are here to speak about what happened today at the school,” the Pastor said, “you have found your place of refuge.” Today, the pastor had prayed alongside many grieving visitors, answered questions to the best of his ability, and done his best to bring peace to their troubled lives.
The stranger stopped within arms-reach of the pastor and continued to stare. “Forgive me, Pastor, for I have sinned.”
The pastor tucked his chin into his neck and grinned. “Lucky for you, you have come to the right place. For I, too, am a sinner.” Bringing his hands to the stranger’s strained shoulders, the pastor said, “Let us pray.”
They both bowed their heads, the pastor’s prayers echoing between the many rows of pews behind them. The stranger stood without moving, hanging onto his guitar case as if it were part of himself. When they finished, the stranger muttered a quick thank you.
“Are you new to the neighborhood?” the pastor asked.
Keeping his gaze pointed to the floor, the stranger shook his head. “I must be going.”
“Please stay, I could use some company.” The pastor extended his arm to an empty pew.
The stranger declined and stepped away from the pastor’s warm hands. “Really, I must be going.”
“Very well then.” The pastor didn’t argue.
The stranger spun on a heel and quickly trotted toward the exit. But, before leaving, he stopped, turned, and said, “Forgive me, Pastor, I didn’t catch your name.”
The pastor tipped his head back and said confidently, “Dwayne Michaels.”
A knowing smirk pulled on the stranger’s lips.
A wave of chills rolled beneath the pastor’s collar and the initial odd feeling he’d had when the stranger arrived was back, stronger than before. He turned his head to the side, hoping the stranger would offer his name freely in a kind gesture.
“Yes, that is right. Now I remember,” the stranger said, bobbing his head.
The pastor stared with a quizzical look on his face, thinking the stranger’s response was rather odd. “And yours, brother? What is your name?”
The stranger pulled his hat further over his eyes, flashed a broad knowing smile, and then pushed his way through the doors, exiting the building without another word.
Chapter Eleven
The cords in my neck flexed as I fought back the urge to groan. I released the phone onto the table and dropped my head into my hands. My fingers curled deep into my scalp as I struggled to understand why no one could give me a straight answer.
Nolan and King were still missing. I didn’t even know if they were alive.
The sound of my teeth grinding filled my head. I wished I could go back in time, relive the laughter that filled this house twelve hours earlier. No matter how hard I squeezed my eyes shut, those memories were drowned out by everything that had happened today.
I fell back into my chair and cradled my unsettled stomach.
Even worse than getting the run-around at hospitals was that King wasn’t picking up his phone or responding to any of my dozens of messages. Worry tangled my stomach into uncomfortable knots and, when I began shaking uncontrollably, I knew the trauma of today was finally catching up with me.
I told myself that I was stronger than what I felt but it was only a lie.
Flipping my head around to the corkboard on the back wall, I stood and plucked Mrs. Dreiss’s phone number away from its tack. Staring at it, I knew I should have done this hours ago, but I struggled to find the words I wanted to ask. I had to do it—make the call and hope that I would receive the news I wanted to hear.
I watched my thumb tremble as I dialed Nolan’s house.
Sucking back a quick breath of air, I put the phone to my ear and listened to it ring. I held that little breath inside until my lungs burned. My nerves were getting the best of me. I was afraid and uncertain and hoped that I wouldn’t be the one to break the news to her. Mason’s words about Nolan’s shooting was something I would never forget—something that would make me count my blessings daily.
The line clicked over and I got the family voicemail.
With parted lips, I paused. After taking a moment to collect my thoughts, I said, “Natalie, it’s Mason’s mom, Samantha Bell. I was calling to tell you that we are thinking of you and your family. Call us if you need anything. Anything at all.”
Then I hung up, feeling regret pinch my gut as I thought how lucky I was to have my son safe and at home with me now. The front door clicked open. When I turned to see who it was, Susan and Allison stepped inside.
“Sam, I hope you don’t mind that we brought Chinese for dinner.” Susan held up two huge plastic bags of food.
I leaned against the threshold leading into the kitchen. Crossing my arms, I couldn’t even force a smile. Even without eating since breakfast, I wasn’t hungry. “Thanks, but I don’t have much of an appetite.”
“Me either,” Allison said, leaning in to give me a tight bear hug. Then she pulled back, bounced her gaze around, and, without saying it, I knew what she was thinking.
“It’s happening again,” I said, thinking how tonight was beginning to remind me of when everyone came over after solving The Lady Killer murders.
Allison rolled her misty eyes over me and flashed a weak smile. “It feels that way, doesn’t it?”
“And here I’m starting to believe that maybe I’m bad luck.”
“Just stop with that right now,” Susan interrupted after setting the bags of Chinese on the kitchen table. “You know that’s not true,” she said, wrapping her arms around me.
“It’s how it feels, though,” I muttered into her shoulder.
“We’re not going anywhere,” Susan said with Allison’s approval. “And you’re not bad luck.”
I called both of them in and the three of us dropped our heads together and hugged each other as tight as possible. Tears started to fall. When I stared into their doting eyes, it only made me cry harder.
Allison rubbed my back and asked, “How is Mason?”
I swiped my hand over my eyes and said, “He’s alive.”
“And we’re thankful for that.” Susan nodded.
“His friend was shot,” I said, hearing a collective gasp suck all the air out of the room. I looked my friends in the eye and added, “We don’t know anything yet. I called everyone and no one can confirm his whereabouts.”
“Not even Alex?”
I choked on my next words. “I haven’t heard from him, either.”
“Jesus.” Susan reached for me again.
Feeling weak and exhausted, we moved to the kitchen table. The three of us sat there staring at our hands, not knowing what to say. The phone rang and my eyes flew open, hope blooming across my chest.
Susan gave me a look that said, what are you waiting for, answer i
t already. I jumped to my feet and answered. “Sam, oh, thank God, you answered. How is Mason? Is he home?”
I turned back to the girls and shook my head. Covering the mic with my hand, I whispered, “It’s my sister.”
“Sam, are you there?”
“I’m here, Heather.” I sighed. “Mason is here, too.”
“I’ve been so worried. It’s all over national news. Have you spoken with Mom?”
I stared through the kitchen window, catching my own reflection in the darkness of night. I thought of my mom living in Arizona and how I had forgotten to call her with all the other phone calls I had been making. “No,” I said to Heather.
“Sam, you have to call her.” Heather was always telling me what to do, even with her living on the East Coast. “If she sees this on the news, she’s going to freak. Hell, I freaked. I mean, you just broke that big serial killer case, and now this?”
“It’s been an incredibly difficult day, as I’m sure you can imagine.” I turned around to see Erin had arrived. I gave her a small wave and watched the girls greet her with another round of hugs.
“It sounds like you have company.”
“The girls are here.”
“I’ll let you go,” Heather said. “I just wanted to call and tell you that I was thinking of you.”
“Thank you.”
“I’m glad that Mason is okay. Please hug him for me, will you? I miss you guys.”
I promised Heather I would, saying, “I’ll call you once things die down.”
“Sam, don’t worry about Mom. I’ll call her for you.”
Heather closed out our call and I pulled my phone away from my ear. Erin’s sullen look was even worse than my own. I padded to the table, squeezed her shoulder, and dropped into the empty chair. Then told her I still couldn’t find Nolan or Alex.
Erin cast her gaze to the table and didn’t act surprised.
“How many?” I asked, staring at Erin from beneath my brow.
Talking to the table, Erin muttered, “When I left there were 11 confirmed causalities.”
“Was Nolan one of them?”
Erin lifted her gaze and I felt my heart pause when wanting to ask if any of the dead were King. “Names of the deceased haven’t been released, but there were nine students and two officers.”
“How many critically injured?” Susan asked.
Erin turned to Susan. “Fourteen in critical condition.”
“Two police officers?” Allison’s brow furrowed and glanced to me.
Holding my breath, I was hanging on to the word officer, never once hearing detective. King was alive. He had to be.
“The first two officers to arrive on scene.” Erin frowned.
The kitchen fell quiet. No one was eating and we sat silently as the food went cold—still tucked away in their neat little boxes. Tears hit our eyes and we all wished we could have done something to have prevented this. The immense suffering I was feeling was intense. Just as I was once again struggling to maintain my grasp on what little information we had to work with, I heard a small knock on the front door. A second later, King stepped inside.
Chapter Twelve
I pushed away from the table and ran through the house, jumping into Alex’s arms. The moment King wrapped his arms around me, I melted into his hard chest and hung off his thick neck. Then I began to shake.
“I thought I lost you,” I admitted.
“You didn’t.” He squeezed harder.
I tipped my head back and pounded my fist against his breast. “Then why didn’t you call?”
His eyes said what he couldn’t; they spoke of immense grief and devastation. “Did you find Mason? Did he make it out safely?”
Tears pooled in the corners of my eyes as I nodded. “He’s here. In his room.”
King’s large hand cupped the back of my skull and pulled my head against his body. I listened to his heart pound like the bass in an orchestra. “I saw everything, Sam.”
“I know. Mason told me you were there.”
The tips of his fingers dug deeper into my flesh as I felt him struggle to contain his grief.
“I have been trying to track down Nolan.” My words were muffled by his jacket. “No one is telling me anything. What happened to him? Where is he? Mason said you were with him. We waited for as long as we could but you never came.”
King lowered his gaze and took my face between his hands. Stroking my cheek with his thumbs, he murmured, “Sam, Nolan was shot and is hurt really bad.”
I felt my expression fall from my face. I swayed my eyes inside of King’s blues, and was afraid to ask the dozen follow-up questions that were swirling between my ears.
“Nolan got out.” A small smile curled King’s lips. “He was alive the last I saw.”
I moaned and rubbed my forehead. “Thank you, Lord.”
“I don’t know where they took him, Sam.” King’s fingers massaged my tense neck loose. He closed his eyes and said, “But we’ll find him.”
“Did they catch the shooter?” Erin asked from the kitchen.
King lifted his head. With hooded eyes he said, “The shooter shot himself. He’s dead.”
“Coward,” I heard someone mutter.
“Come inside.” I tugged on King’s hand and moved to the living room window. Staring outside, it still didn’t make any sense to me why someone would shoot up a school.
King worked the room, giving each of my friends a hug. Words were quiet, sentences short. And as we each let our heads drop into our hands, King made his way back to me.
Snaking my hands around his tight waist, I touched his face, looked him in his eyes and asked, “How are you?” He cast his gaze to the floor. “Are you okay?”
A subtle shake of his head had me worried. His eyes lifted. “Can we talk in private?”
My breath caught in my chest as I nodded. We excused ourselves and went to the kitchen. “Are you hungry?” I asked, pointing to the meal no one had touched. “Susan brought Chinese but none of us are hungry.”
King declined and rubbed the back of his neck.
Something was on his mind, his actions worrying me further. I shuffled my feet over the floor and said, “What is it?”
King stared. “Something Nolan told me as he was being wheeled out by the paramedics.”
I crossed my arms and tucked my hands deep into my armpits.
King scrubbed a hand over his strong jaw and glanced to Mason’s closed bedroom door. “The shooter said something to Nolan just before shooting him.”
My brows pinched. “What?”
Licking his lips, King lowered his voice to a whisper and said, “That he was looking specifically for Mason.”
I did a double take with my eyes. Suddenly, my entire flesh burned with tiny needle pricks. “Why would he be looking for Mason?” I asked.
“Let’s just put it this way: Nearly all of today’s victims were black.”
I flicked my gaze to an old photograph of my dead husband, Gavin, and found myself staring into his chocolate eyes. It didn’t take me long to recall Mason’s recent bullying episode at school and receiving a call from Principal Craig to come speak to him about fighting.
“But Nolan is white,” I said.
King raised his eyebrows. “A white kid who is friends with Mason.”
Struggling to accept what King was telling me, I argued, “I’m white—”
“And Gavin was black.” King’s words were clipped and if it weren’t for the fact that he knew Gavin as well as anybody, I might not have accepted his tone when speaking of my late husband.
My chest rose and fell as I paced from sink to counter and back, helping to lower my rising blood pressure. “What are you saying, that this was a hate crime?”
“The early assessment makes me think so.”
“What you’re saying is Nolan got shot because he’s friends with a 16-year-old biracial kid from the Highlands?” When I heard my voice rise, I immediately regretted it, hoping Mason didn�
��t hear.
“Sam, I’m only sharing what Nolan told me. There is a lot still unknown, but I thought it worth mentioning to you so that maybe we know what to protect Mason from.”
“The world?” I shook my head and King sighed. I turned my back to him and said softly, “Then maybe the shooter got what he deserved.”
“Sorry to interrupt,” Allison announced as she stepped into the kitchen.
“We’re in the middle of something.” I spun around with my hair swishing across my shoulders. One glance and I could see that Allison had something she wanted to say. “I’m sorry. I’m not feeling myself.”
“None of us are, Sam.” Allison was quick to forgive. “But I saw what the shooter said. I watched his live feed at the office.”
“You did?”
Allison nodded. “I’ll never be able to erase his voice from my head.” Allison shook her head. “But King is right. This was a deliberate attack on the black community, my community.” Allison pointed at her chest. “The shooter said it himself. And if Nolan was shot for being friends with Mason, we can’t ignore it.”
“Did you see the video?” I asked King.
He shook his head.
“It was taken down,” Allison confirmed.
“The shooter is already dead.” My bones ached. “What else can we do?”
“Pastor Michaels has his doors open late.” Allison stepped forward. “People are gathering, coming together to show their solidarity. Maybe it would be good for Mason to be with his peers?”
I gave King a look.
“This isn’t a time to hide,” Allison added.
I was still staring at King when he finally nodded. “No, you’re right.” I glanced to Allison. “We need to stick together. I’ll see if Mason’s awake.”
Chapter Thirteen
Mason opened the door before I even knocked. Surprised, I blinked and stared into his coffee bean eyes and said, “Pastor Michaels—”
“I’m coming Mom.”
My eyes opened further. Then my gaze drifted to his right shoulder as my head titled on its side. “Okay, well…”
Bell Hath No Fury Page 4
