Bell Hath No Fury

by Jeremy Waldron

  The cool air was still for a long pause as the detectives gave the Lieutenant time to form his response. “Explain.”

  King went into great detail about the trajectory of each bullet that made it impossible to have come from the direction of the school entrance. King led them to the blood-stained pavement and discussed how the officers were thought to have fallen, the direction of their blood splatter, as well as how the officer’s vehicle was positioned. “These officers were ambushed by a high velocity rifle the moment they arrived, which I believe came from there.” King turned and pointed to a nearby hotel.

  “They didn’t have a chance,” Alvarez added.

  Lieutenant cocked his jaw and flicked his gaze between the hotel rooftop and the pavement where they were standing.

  “I’m guessing this second shooter is either military trained, or perhaps a cop.” King was confident with his delivery.

  Lieutenant gave King a sideways glance.

  “We know for a fact Timothy Morris was specifically targeting blacks, but it’s worth asking ourselves if this second shooter was also targeting blacks or if he was going after cops.”

  Lieutenant stared ahead and King watched his posture go rigid. “Christ.”

  “What do you want us to do, LT?” Alvarez asked.

  “If we are in fact dealing with a cop killer, then we better find whoever is behind this before another officer dies.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  As soon as we exited the Morris household, camera shutters began clicking at a dizzying speed before their operators realized it was only Erin and me.

  I lengthened my stride, smirking at the disappointed faces we passed, and made a beeline for my parked car.

  From the edge of the Morris property, I spotted Nancy Jordan glaring. When we locked eyes for a brief moment, I watched her face lift before she trotted along and quickly caught up with us.

  “I’m not interested in speaking with you, Jordan.” I kept walking. “My answer is still no.”

  “What did they say?” Nancy was now at my side. “You were in there for over a half-hour, you must have something you can share with me?”

  I was still feeling a bit queasy from the way Rick Morris attacked me. The nerve he had to suggest that Mason was the reason Timothy wanted to kill him. “I have nothing for you, Jordan.”

  “Samantha.” Nancy stretched her neck, taking up more of my vision. “The Morrises have refused to be interviewed by all of us. What makes you so special?”

  Erin spun around so fast her hair lifted off her shoulders. Blocking Nancy with her small frame, we all came to an abrupt halt. Erin narrowed her eyes and stuck her face near Nancy’s. “Maybe we were invited inside because we weren’t being pushy.”

  Nancy’s jaw dangled on its hinges. Her eyelids blinked like shutters. “Well, did they agree to sit down for an interview or not?”

  “Check our website for details, Jordan,” I called over my shoulder after beginning to move down the sidewalk once again. “You know where to find us.”

  Shaking my head, I was looking forward to stepping away from my colleagues. Nancy was grinding on my nerves. Without giving it much thought, I swiped open my phone and texted Mason just to see how he was doing.

  Dropping our bottoms into my car, Erin said, “I’d like to know what the police said to them and if they took anything from the house.”

  “Whatever it was, it clearly got on Rick’s nerves.” I slid the key into the ignition and paused with a striking thought.

  “What is it, Sam?”

  Rolling my gaze to Erin, I said, “Did you get the impression that Rick didn’t have the best relationship with his son?”

  “Yeah, I got that.” Erin’s brow wrinkled.

  Pinching the loose skin on my throat, I pursed my lips and recalled everything Ginny Morris mentioned about her family and son. “It’s just speculation on my part, but does it make sense that maybe Tim was trying to prove to his father he was a soldier, just like him?”

  Erin stared ahead without blinking.

  “I mean, what does it even mean to be a man in today’s world?” When I heard my question, I immediately thought about Mason.

  “If that is what went on here, it’s a strange way of going about it.”

  Bringing both hands to the steering wheel, I said, “The whole house smelled of testosterone.”

  “We love our country as much as we love God.” Erin repeated Ginny’s words.

  “Rick’s anger bothered me,” I admitted.

  “But can you blame him?” Erin turned to me, tucking a loose strand of blonde hair behind her ear along the way. “Because of what their son did, they’re victims of his crime. No one wants to sympathize with them. I know I wouldn’t want to be in their shoes.”

  “There is something more going on with him.” I stared at the Morris house. “I can’t put a finger on it but I think it might be worth looking into.”

  When I started the car, Erin said, “We also need to check out the political science course Tim had enrolled in.”

  I nodded, once again feeling the wave of guilt that maybe I was the reason behind Mason being targeted. “I got the feeling that his parents encouraged him to take the class. Maybe Rick’s political views will shed some light on Tim’s motives. It’s clear he has a thing against journalists, but does he express that same anger toward minorities, too?”

  Erin was jotting down notes by the time I pulled away from the curb. I mentioned my need to collect my things from the newsroom and Erin was fine with a quick detour. Besides, it would be good to catch up with Dawson and inform him of what I was working on.

  A quick fifteen-minute drive later and I was dipping the front hood of my Outback into the parking garage. Erin wanted to stay in the car to continue researching, and I promised to be quick.

  The newsroom was quiet as a tomb. No one was around and only a handful of boxes remained. Including mine. Reaching for it, there was a sticky note from Dawson.

  In case you’re looking for your orchid, I took it to make sure it received the care it needed. See you at the new office. ~ R.D.

  I smiled and scampered out as fast as I’d entered. There was no time for nostalgia.

  “Rick Morris has his own Facebook profile page,” Erin said as soon as I was back behind the wheel.

  Gripping her phone with both hands, she kept scrolling. “Anything interesting?”

  “You could guess most of the boring stuff from what we saw of him.”

  “Enlighten me.”

  “White-collar engineer job with a military weapons manufacturer, heavily involved in politics, and the real hum-dinger,” Erin flashed me a quick sideways glance, “He loves his guns.”

  “Sounds accurate.”

  “Then, there is this.” Erin turned her phone’s screen toward me. “Read what he wrote yesterday at 8:38AM—approximately thirty minutes before the first shot was fired.”

  With a hesitant heart, I took the phone between my fingers and squinted my gaze at the post.

  But the Helper, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, he will teach you all things and bring to your remembrance all that I have said to you. ~ John 14:26

  After reading it for a second time, I lifted my gaze and we stared into each other’s eyes.

  “Rick’s anger became Timothy’s.” I shrugged.

  “He said it himself.”

  “…then maybe my son wouldn’t have declared war on that school.” A cold shiver moved up my spine.

  Erin sucked back a deep breath. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

  “If he did train his son to kill—”

  “Or instructed him to go inside—”

  “We better find out.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  “What an insult,” Erin whispered as she followed me inside our new newsroom.

  It didn’t feel real. As I glanced around and took in the new office myself, it was a clear punch to the gut. A flood of old memories hit me
as I thought back to the time when journalists had been respected. People in high office would agree to speak with us, give us statements. And, in turn, we would assist them with sharing stories and public service announcements with the community. But now, working from our print facility, how could we exert that same authority and expect to be respected?

  “It even smells like death.”

  I flicked my gaze over my shoulder and smirked at Erin’s comment.

  “Does it not?”

  “Let’s find my desk.”

  “And how do you expect to do that?”

  “Use your nose.” I scrunched my nose and made sniffing noises, getting Erin to chuckle.

  I had no idea where to even begin my search. It was clear that half the staff was now gone, another consequence of the decisions made by our paper’s new owners residing in New York City.

  “Sam,” I heard Dawson calling. He waved his hand as he approached. “Have you found your desk? No, of course not.” He shook his head. “This place is a mess.” He rolled his eyes. “Follow me. I’ll show you your new home.”

  Only a week ago Dawson encouraged me to leave the paper. He recognized the platform Erin and I were building with my writing and her podcasting. He knew that was the future of journalism. Not here. Not getting demoted and being treated like second class citizens. As tempting as it was, and even with his blessing, I wasn’t ready to leave my column just yet.

  Dawson stopped at a small wooden desk. It had a strange resemblance to the tables I once sat at in high school. “It’s not much—”

  “It’s perfect,” I said, reaching for my orchid. “Though this guy might have to find a window.”

  Dawson gave me an apologetic look. Then he asked with obvious concern lining his brow, “Sam, how’s Mason?”

  “He’s at the hospital, staying with his friend.”

  “You don’t have to be here, you know. I’ll have your leave approved the moment you ask for it.”

  “Are you trying to get rid of me again?”

  Dawson laughed.

  I shook my head. “I just took a week away from the office,” I said, thinking back to last week and how Dawson refused to let me work from the office after cracking the serial killer case. “We were just visiting with the Morris family.”

  “Whoa.” Dawson shoved a hand through his thick head of hair. “I heard they weren’t allowing anybody to interview them.”

  “It’s true. However,” I shared a brief look with Erin, “we were invited inside.”

  “Anything worth reporting?”

  Thinking of Natalie’s request, I said, “I’m not going to glorify the shooter and make him out to be some anti-hero.”

  “People are curious to know why he did it.”

  “I understand.”

  Dawson cocked his head to the side and gave me an intense look.

  Erin stepped forward and stretched her neck thin. “We believe Timothy Morris might have had an accomplice.”

  A gasp sucked the air out of the space between us. I watched Dawson raise his eyebrows as he flicked his gaze back to me.

  “The Morrises didn’t say that,” I assured him. “But there are several inconsistencies in the stories coming out of yesterday that make us believe we might be on to something.”

  With his hands rooted into his hips, Dawson lowered his voice and said, “Then I suggest you keep all your preliminary theories to yourselves until you find the facts to back up your claim.”

  “Goes without saying.”

  “So now what?”

  “We’re pursuing a few leads from people who we believe might be able to confirm these theories.”

  “Good.” Dawson nodded. “Until then, perhaps I could have you report on tonight’s vigil.”

  My cell started ringing in my jacket pocket. “Consider it done,” I told Dawson. Stepping away, I answered my phone to talk to King. “Hey.”

  “How’s Nolan? Did you visit with him long?” King’s gravelly voice rumbled through my earpiece.

  “He was in good spirits.”

  “And Mason?”

  “He stayed behind, wanting to keep Nolan company.”

  There was a long awkward pause that caused my stomach to flip. I could hear that something wasn’t right in King’s voice and I braced myself for the impact I felt coming.

  “Are you still at the high school?”

  King said he was, then told me, “I told you I would call if I found something.”

  Pinching the bridge of my nose between my fingers, I closed my eyes and muttered to myself a soft plea. Please tell me it’s not about Mason.

  “Can you meet me here?”

  I checked the time. “What’s this about?”

  “It’s important you hear this in person.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  As soon as I ended my call with King, I turned to Erin. Feelings of anxiety roiled my gut. My silence made her ask what my mind was swimming in.

  “King found something,” I said in a whispery tone.

  “What?”

  “I don’t know. But it sounded urgent.” I reached for my orchid and told Dawson to put it near a window.

  “Where are you off to?” he asked.

  “North High.”

  “Promise me you’ll be careful.”

  I answered him with a single look and followed it up with a reassuring nod. “Don’t worry about me.” He rolled his eyes. “See you at the vigil this evening?”

  Dawson took my orchid into his hands and nodded.

  I felt my chest expand as I shared a quick glance with Erin before making our way to the exit. I was eager to know what King couldn’t tell me over the phone. His voice held something I had never heard before—not even on the day I was nearly killed by The Lady Killer. Something was up and I needed to know what it was.

  Erin swiped today’s paper on the way out the door and chased after me as I picked up my pace to get to King as fast as possible.

  “Sam, I don’t mean to keep bringing it up, but it’s very clear that The Times will soon be out of business.”

  I didn’t bother to shorten my stride. Erin was still fuming and she refused to miss her chance to argue why I should devote all of my energies to our own audience. Of course it was what I wanted to be doing, but I still had reservations that needed to be solved before I fully committed to our project.

  “Good thing our website is picking up momentum,” I said as I pushed my way out the door.

  Erin barely looked up from the paper she read while she walked. “You should have published this piece on the website.”

  “I’m still employed here.”

  “It was beautiful.”

  I flashed her a skeptical look.

  “Truly.”

  “Besides, you heard Dawson, he’s encouraging me to keep blogging about our investigation in real time. That’s what we should be focusing on. Bring our audience into the investigative process and show them how we decipher the clues made available to us.”

  “Of course that’s what we should be doing. That’s what I’ve been saying all along.”

  “Then what’s the issue?” Stepping into the sun, I pulled my sunglasses off the top of my head and slid them over my eyes. “The way I see it, it’s a win-win. Dawson is happy, and you’re… well, you’re content.”

  Erin hit the brakes, shaking her head.

  I stopped and turned back. “I can do both.”

  “I’m not questioning your ability to juggle the demands of both jobs.”

  “Then what are you questioning?”

  “I just know that if you didn’t have your ankle tethered to the paper, we could give 100% of our energy to growing our own audience.”

  I turned my head away. Squinting into the sunlight, I said, “I’ll tell you what. I’ll quit—if I’m not let go first—when you show me the money.”

  Erin folded her arms across her belly, cocked out a hip, and grinned.

  “Monetize the site and I’ll leave the pap
er behind.”

  “You promise?”

  I lifted my pinky. Erin stared at it for a second before she grinned and hooked hers around mine. “Watch out, Bell, I’ll have the money rolling in before you know it.”

  My phone buzzed with a text message. Reaching for it, Erin asked who it was. “Mason.”

  All good. Nolan is resting.

  A tremor of worry rolled over my stomach like lazy waves in the Gulf. “Nolan is resting,” I relayed to Erin. “C’mon, let’s not waste any more time.”

  Edging the building, I still thought that King could have found something that had to do with Mason. I needed to know, and cursed him for not giving me a little bit of a clue to what he’d discovered to at least settle my nerves. When we turned a corner, a man was leaning against my car.

  I hit the brakes and Erin nearly collided with me. “Who is that?” she asked.

  The man heard us and turned his head. Removing his sunglasses, he pushed off the car and strode over to us. Meeting him halfway, I couldn’t place him but knew he was here for me.

  “Excuse me, are you Samantha?”

  His look told me I should know who he was but I didn’t.

  “You were just leaning against her car—” Erin huffed out a sigh of disbelief.

  “Who’s asking?”

  “My name is Markus Schneider.” He held out his hand for me to shake. “Gavin was my partner on the force.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Markus Schneider lowered his hand back to his side when I refused to shake it.

  “I wasn’t sure if you would remember me.” Markus flicked a quick glance to Erin.

  I dug out my car keys and handed them to Erin, telling her I’d be to the car shortly. Once I was alone with Markus, I said, “I’m sorry, have we met before?”

  Markus took his eyes off Erin and rolled his gaze back to me. The friendly crinkles around his eyes ironed themselves out when he recognized the suspicion twinkling my eye. “I’m not sure if Gavin ever mentioned me.”