Bell Hath No Fury

by Jeremy Waldron

  Lieutenant lowered his brow and muttered a few curse words under his breath as he looked around, finally seeing for the first time what was actually taking place within his city. “I hope you’re wrong, Detective. If what you’re saying is true, then God help us all.”

  Chapter Forty-Three

  My world spun around me in a dizzying array of colors. King’s words that an unarmed black man may have been killed by a cop had knocked me off my axis. And, as I stood there not knowing what to do next, I couldn’t stop wondering what, and where, Professor Croft and Rick Morris were up to now when the fabric of our city seemed to have suddenly come undone.

  “We can’t stay here.” Susan rolled her shoulders back, firmly gripping her purse straps slung over her left shoulder.

  “Neither can I,” Natalie echoed. “My time is better spent with my son.”

  We quietly nodded our heads, pretending like we understood Natalie’s grief but, the truth was, none of us could even come close to feeling the anxiety I could see lining her face. Wishing her our best, Mason turned to me with clenched fists as soon as Natalie was gone. “Mom, you have to do something.”

  My heart was still racing as I tried to come up with a solution for what I should do next. Erin and Allison were looking at me as if my decision would also influence their own. Maybe it would have, but I still had to write Dawson a story. I had to stay. Find out more about this group of protestors and why they’d decided to target the candlelit vigil. And if they were somehow connected to the Patriots of God.

  “Mason’s right, we have to do something,” I said.

  “What, Sam? What can we do?” Susan argued, flinging her hand toward the unruly crowd.

  “Look around.” I spread my arms out wide and craned my neck. “We can’t leave when there are so many people suffering.”

  “Sam—” Susan frowned.

  Flinging my arms down to my side, I dropped my chin and sidestepped to stand next to Mason. “I have work to do.”

  “Then I’m not leaving either.” Erin stepped forward.

  “And neither am I.” Allison grinned along with Erin.

  Susan bounced her gaze around the circle and, by the look on her face, I could see that she was succumbing to peer pressure. I felt a flood of gratitude bloom across my chest when Allison linked arms, and I was hit with warmth when Susan finally conceded to the group’s demands.

  “We stick together,” Susan said.

  “Always and forever.”

  Closing our circle, we all huddled together feeling the power of friendship radiate through our smiles as we swayed back and forth on our heels. Our eyes were bright and determined. Even Mason was there, staring and grinning at our silly giggles.

  “How can we help you, Sam?” Erin asked.

  “All we need is to confirm that our suspicions about Croft are right.” I looked into everyone’s eyes, catching up the girls on the theory we were working. “Because I have a feeling that this story might make front page tomorrow and I can’t afford to get it wrong.”

  “Mom, look.”

  I lifted my head and found Pastor Michaels trudging his way to our little circle. “Mason, come with me.” We moved swiftly to the pastor and quickly said, “What happened?”

  “I had a feeling something like this might happen.”

  His words were as shocking as when the protestors interrupted our songs. I stepped closer, feeling my eyebrows tightly knit as I stared up into his brown eyes. “Did you know this was going to happen? Is that why you asked to speak with me after?” I felt my body tense as I worked myself up.

  “Samantha,” he lowered his voice, “you know me better than that.”

  I ran a hand over my head and forced myself to relax. “What are you saying, then?”

  “There is something I need to show you. Something that could explain all this.” He flicked his gaze to the crowd, watching the police fight to maintain civility.

  “Okay. Show me,” I said breathlessly.

  “Not here.” The pastor looked directly into Mason’s eyes. “Son, how are you doing?”

  “Fine.” Mason shifted uncomfortably on his feet.

  “Your mother told me your story from yesterday.” The pastor paused. “How is your friend?”

  “He’s doing much better. Healing.”

  “I’m praying for him.”

  “What is it you have to show me?” I interrupted, knowing that I didn’t have time to beat around the bush.

  “Not in front of the boy.”

  I told Mason to wait by the mature tree nearby and, once it was just me and the pastor, he pushed his hand deep into his jacket pocket and pulled out a medallion. “I received this gift tonight.” He opened his palm and we both stared at the object. “A white eagle medallion.”

  “The Patriots of God,” I exhaled.

  Pastor Michaels tipped his chin back and dropped it into my hand. “You said Mason was on the school shooter’s hit list?”

  I swallowed and nodded. “The school shooter mentioned Patriots of God during his rampage.”

  A burst of shouts exploded behind us. We turned to watch the crowd grow further enraged.

  “You said it was a gift; who gave it to you?” I asked.

  “I’m not sure.”

  I narrowed my eyes.

  “It was left on the top step of the church’s front entrance just before I came here.”

  He told me the story in great detail and I felt lightheaded by the time he was finished. I cast my gaze back to the medallion. Deep inside, I knew that this was the reason why Mason was on the kill list. This group, this symbol, and the racist philosophy behind it explained everything.

  I brushed my thumb over the medallion, thinking of the tattoo Timothy Morris got recently. Then my thoughts drifted to how, against all odds, I seemed to have found myself in the middle of an investigation so closely linked to my family, how a decision Gavin made years ago may have finally come back to haunt us all.

  I lifted my gaze and met the pastor’s eyes. “There is something I need to tell you, but I need you to promise me that it will remain between us.”

  “Your secret is safe with me.”

  I thought about King and my promise to keep this information top secret, but I knew that I had to tell the pastor in hopes of it leading me to find the person who was behind this. “It’s highly likely that there was a second shooter yesterday.”

  “At the school?” The crease between his eyes deepened.

  I nodded. “And his two targets were the two officers killed.”

  The pastor stared with thoughts churning over. “I heard both officers were black.”

  “It’s true.” I felt my pulse grow weak. “And you knew one of them well.”

  “Who?” The pastor’s head tilted to one side.

  “Cook Roberts.”

  Pastor Michaels pressed the flat of his hand over his heart. I watched his gaze drop to the white eagle medallion as I tried to give it back.

  “No.” He closed my hand, wrapping the medallion inside my fingers. “You keep it.”

  “And do what with it?”

  “Find out if the group is back or not.”

  “I’m afraid I already know it is, and something tells me you do, too.” I heard my voice shake and it sparked enough fear inside of me for my knees to quake.

  A sullen look fell over the pastor’s face. “If it’s true, then lots of old feelings will resurface and a simple nudge would be all it takes to plummet our community back into the race war many of us haven’t forgotten.”

  “Like what happened here tonight?” My voice grew shrill as I pointed to the protestors.

  “Yeah.” He breathed, his eyes turning to slits. “Exactly like what happened here tonight.”

  My thoughts traveled to King and the call he’d received from Lieutenant Baker. An unarmed black man had been killed and I was just waiting for the next explosion to rock our city. “Any ideas who might have left you this memento?”

  “N
o.” Pastor Michaels leaned close and lowered his voice. “But I can see in your eyes that you do.”

  “I have an idea but I can’t say for sure.”

  “You’re one of the best reporters I know, Samantha. If anyone can figure it out, it would be you.” He straightened his spine and stood tall. “But please stay vigilant. Gavin was a vocal opponent of this group, and if they find out you’re snooping around God only knows what might happen.”

  My heart pounded harder. “Gavin was a vocal opponent of the Patriots of God?”

  The pastor nodded. “He had enemies, even within the department who wished he wouldn’t have taken some of the positions he did. If the Patriots of God are back, and know about you, Samantha, you could be in danger for what your husband did.”

  Chapter Forty-Four

  A sharp pain pulsed across my chest. My muscles were tense, though my knees threatened to give. Inside, I crumbled with fear and confusion, not sure I knew what was going on anymore. The pastor’s warning didn’t line up with what I knew of Gavin. Even as I tried to sort it out inside my head, for every question answered two more were born.

  Mason came running back to me. “Mom, what was that about?”

  I stared at Pastor Michaels and watched him work his way back to the front lines. The crowd roared, heating up like an inferno about to explode. His battle was here, tonight, to bring peace to the crowd that had come to gather on his watch. But why did he leave me with the extraordinary task of having to learn of my husband’s secret?

  “What did he give you, Mom?”

  I dropped the medallion into my pocket and turned to Mason. Not wanting to scare him any more than I knew he already was, I kept the medallion hidden. Our eyes danced and soon I felt mine begin to blur with tears.

  Mason reminded me of Gavin. Gavin had given him so many of my favorite traits, it was as if Gavin was here with me now. I clamped my hands around both of Mason’s arms and didn’t want to let go.

  “Just something for my story,” I said with blood sloshing between my ears.

  There was more to my husband than what I knew and it left me feeling breathless. This medallion confirmed we were chasing a group thought to have been killed off. What had Gavin said about them to find himself making enemies within the department he worked?

  A loud roar erupted behind us.

  Mason and I turned to look.

  Things were taking a turn and violence seemed imminent. “We have to go, baby.”

  “What? No,” Mason pleaded. “You have to stay, tell this story. Just like you said you would.”

  I shook my head. This wasn’t my place. Not anymore. “I got what I needed.” My words were firm. “Now let’s go.” I tugged on Mason’s arm.

  It wasn’t worth putting Mason in more danger than what I had already done. He’d escaped one attempt on his life, but would he again? The thought alone sent a cold shiver up my spine. I’d give my life to prevent him from having to live through another shooting.

  Together we marched to where the girls were still huddled. The jab of regret stitched my side and I couldn’t stop thinking about the secrets Gavin had kept from me. He’d told me everything. Why didn’t he tell me about this? Did he think I would never have to know?

  “Everything all right, Samantha?” Susan asked as soon as I arrived.

  “We’re leaving,” I said.

  Susan’s brows shot up, surprised.

  “Go to the car, Mason. I’ll be there in a minute.” I tossed him the keys and pointed to where I’d parked before he trotted off.

  “What’s going on, Sam?” Erin had a quizzical look on her face.

  I dove my hand inside my jacket pocket and revealed the white eagle medallion. “This.”

  Erin’s eyes widened and flashed with a terrified curiosity. “Where did you get that?”

  “What is it?” Allison asked.

  Handing the medallion to Allison, she recognized it immediately. “It’s the same as the tattoo Timothy Morris got.”

  I glanced over my shoulder toward the crowd and then shared with the girls what the pastor had told me. “The Patriots of God are back and they wanted the pastor to know.”

  “Jesus, we were right.” Erin gasped. “Why give it to the pastor?”

  My insides tied another knot. Shrugging, I said, “Maybe because whoever is behind this knows that Pastor Michaels is the leader of the black community.”

  “This is serious.” Allison sighed.

  I inhaled a deep breath, staring into the crowd. I didn’t have the answers but something told me it had to do with whatever Gavin had done years ago. “We know more about what is happening than anybody else—maybe even more than the cops.”

  “Tell us what to do, Sam, and we’ll do it.” Susan inched closer.

  I flicked my gaze to Susan. I knew she had an extremely full plate with the donations hitting her business’s bank account and was itching to get back to the office. “I need you to think really hard about what the man who gave you that donation tonight looked like.”

  “You think it could be the same person who gave Pastor Michaels that medallion?” Susan’s nose scrunched.

  “It’s worth looking into. I don’t know the details of how you’ll distribute the donations from the victim’s fund, but if you have to give money to the shooter’s family, please make it discreet.”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  “Allison.” Allison swept her gaze up to mine. “Break through Tim’s firewall. We need to know who radicalized him, what he was saying in the days leading up to the school shooting, and how he chose his targets. Something tells me that will get us closer to who might be behind this.”

  “You got it.” Allison nodded.

  “I’ll speak to his family again, ask about the tattoo.” I whipped my head around. “Erin, figure out where the professor was tonight. We need to know why he chose this specific time to protest when emotions were already high. We know these are his students and we know he’s a constitutionalist—”

  “But is he a Patriot of God?” Susan asked.

  I shrugged. “That’s what we need to find out.”

  “What are you going to do, Sam?” Erin asked.

  “Take Mason home and wait to see what King says about the call he received tonight.” My head bobbed. “Then I’m going to find out where Rick Morris was tonight.”

  “The true villain,” Erin whispered.

  I nodded once. “He made the threat and then this happens? Seems too big of a coincidence for me not to think he might have somehow influenced tonight’s activities.”

  Once we were all assigned with our next task, we group-hugged and made sure to tell each other how much we loved them when suddenly Allison’s cellphone started ringing. She answered and was off the phone within seconds.

  “Anything important?” I asked but didn’t have to. Her face told me everything I needed to know.

  “Where did you say King went?”

  I felt the blood leave my face. “Park Hill. Why, was that him?”

  She shook her head no. “But it sounds like the neighborhood in Park Hill is about to riot.”

  Chapter Forty-Five

  After splitting from the group, I called King on my way to my car. Relief swept over me the moment he answered. “Hey,” I said.

  “Hey.”

  “I know you’re busy—”

  “Is everything all right?”

  “Not really.” I choked up. King had a way of making me weak. I could be myself, be vulnerable to him by not having to play tough girl. I loved that he had that effect on me, even when we were miles apart.

  “Is it the protest? Did it get worse?”

  I gave him a quick update on what was happening, promising him it was nothing too alarming, and said, “Tell me what’s going on with you.”

  “I can’t really talk about it, Sam.”

  I grinded my teeth, frustrated by his inability to talk about his job, but I understood. Our relationship was anything but convent
ional in the sense that a detective was dating a reporter. But I could trust him and he could trust me and that was enough to keep it feeling like we weren’t totally keeping secrets from one another when we had to keep our answers short.

  “Allison received a call and said something about Park Hill possibly rioting,” I said with a furrowed brow.

  “It’s ugly, Sam.” I felt my chest tighten when hearing King’s words. “The emotions are high but, so far, people are choosing to keep their anger contained.”

  “Alex,” I paused to gather what little strength I had left inside of me, “Pastor Michaels received a gift tonight I think you might find interesting.”

  The line went silent but I could still hear him breathing. I went on to tell him about the medallion, where the pastor had found it, and how he knew what it was. “Any chance that the protest at the vigil was a distraction from what you’re working now?”

  “I don’t know about the protest, but without looking at the medallion myself, I’d say you’re not too far off.” King had to go and promised to call me later once he was finished canvasing the neighborhood.

  “Be careful,” I said as I ended our call.

  By the time I joined Mason in the car, my son was busy scrolling through his social media accounts. “They stole the show, Mom. No one is talking about yesterday’s victims anymore.”

  “Unfortunately, I think that was their intention, honey.” I took the keys off the dash and slid them into the ignition.

  “Why are they talking about racial injustice when they were white?”

  “What are you reading?” I asked.

  “Nothing. I’m watching videos of tonight’s protest. They’re already posted online.”

  I stared out over the hood of my car, not sure I had an answer. When a knock on my window kick-started my heart, I startled and gasped. His sharp eyes shined through the glass and I recognized his face immediately.

  “What is he doing here?” I mumbled as I opened my door.

  “Mom, who is that?” Mason leaned over the center console and stared.

  Pushing Mason back with the sharp part of my elbow, I said, “Stay in the car. This will only be a minute.”