Bell Hath No Fury

by Jeremy Waldron

  “Is that Mason inside?” Markus Schneider bent at the waist, attempting to sneak a peek at my son. I stood in front of him and blocked his view.

  “I’m sorry, Markus, but now is not a good time.”

  Markus straightened his spine and stared. I tried to be polite but the timing couldn’t have been worse. With my head still swimming in questions about the medallion, my concern for King, and the work I still had to do for Dawson, Markus being here now was nothing short of suspicious.

  “I overheard what Pastor Michaels said to you.”

  My heart stopped. I crossed my arms over my chest and stared without blinking.

  “You what?” I asked, thinking back to my conversation with the pastor.

  I swore we were alone. How did Markus overhear? Where was he hiding? Why was he snooping? I swiveled my neck around on my shoulders, looking to see if we were alone. My friends were gone and, if I had to scream for help, no one would hear me over the sounds of the distant roars. I couldn’t have been more vulnerable and was thankful I had Mason with me.

  “I know, I know.” Markus took a step back and showed me his palms. “I should have said something but I didn’t want to interrupt.” He paused and held my gaze. “It looked like you were having a serious conversation.”

  Pastor Michaels’s words bounced around my head. All I could hear was his warning that Gavin had many enemies, even inside the department. Could one of them have been Markus? I knew nothing about him, yet he seemed to know an awful lot about me.

  “What are you doing here, Markus? When did you arrive?” This wasn’t how I imagined us getting together and talking about Gavin. Now I wasn’t even sure I could, after pulling a stunt like this.

  “Supporting the community after yesterday’s loss, just like everyone else. I’ve been here since the beginning.” He squinted his eyes at me. “You’re here working a story, aren’t you?”

  “I’m a reporter. I’m always working a story.”

  “Not just any story, though.”

  His words were too playful and confident for my liking. “What are you getting at?”

  “What I’m trying to say,” he huffed an uncomfortable chuckle, “is that I think you’re wondering what all this has to do with the Patriots of God.”

  I snapped my lips shut and, once again, went stiff.

  He wagged his finger in my face and smiled. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell, but you should know that it’s not the first time I’ve heard that name.”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “No? Then how is this? There is a rumor floating around that Timothy Morris mentioned the group during yesterday’s shooting.”

  “Where did you hear this?” I snapped, feeling my anger swell.

  A glimmer caught his eye. “So, it is true.”

  I felt like a fool for falling into his trap. Maybe he knew, but maybe he was only baiting me to confirm a theory he was working himself. It was a technique I used—one Gavin had taught me long ago—and it was a good skill to have. But to be a victim of it? It didn’t feel so hot.

  “You don’t have to answer. I know it’s true.” His eyes drifted over my shoulder to Mason. I once again blocked his view. “It isn’t hard to learn as long as one knows where to look.”

  As I listened to Markus gloat about how great a detective he was, I couldn’t recall ever seeing him at any point during tonight’s vigil. Yet now here he was, confronting me when I was most susceptible to his abuse.

  “Okay, so you’re a decent detective. What does this have to do with what you think you heard Pastor Michaels say to me?”

  Markus chuckled and leaned closer. “What you have to know, Samantha Bell, is that Pastor Michaels isn’t as innocent as he appears.”

  I listened to the faint beating of my heart. I couldn’t look away, no matter how hard I tried. Markus had my undivided attention and I was ready to hear him out—even if I was afraid to learn what he had to say next.

  “You see, the pastor has a secret he is not telling you. I think it is something that could save your life.”

  Chapter Forty-Six

  My jaw unhinged and dangled off my face. I wasn’t sure I was even breathing. What Markus just shared was shocking and, if proven to be true—and something inside me told me it would be—than everything wasn’t what I thought.

  “Mom, who was that?” Mason yelled through the window glass.

  Keeping my eyes on Markus, I watched him skirt the edge of the crowd still gathered in the park before disappearing into the shadows. Mason was still talking to me but I didn’t respond.

  A tremble rocked through my bones and shook my limbs as fear took control.

  Could what Markus said about Pastor Michaels be true? Did I know the pastor like I thought I did? My head squeezed with sudden pressure. There was too much information to keep up with, too many players who all seemed to want a part in the growing conspiracy surrounding me and my family.

  “Mom, what are you waiting for? Let’s go,” Mason grumbled.

  I pressed the flat of my hand to my heated forehead and felt the energy radiating from the crowd buzz louder.

  When pressed, Markus insisted he was here to support the community in mourning the loss of the students but he couldn’t tell me what time he arrived. That was a big question mark I couldn’t get past—a gaping hole that left too much unknown. He had mentioned he would be here tonight when he first caught me outside the newsroom this afternoon, so maybe I was thinking too much into his presence.

  I darted my eyes from side to side searching for the pastor but couldn’t find him anywhere. The longer I stood there thinking about what Markus just shared, the more tonight’s protests made sense.

  “Can we go now?” Mason grumbled loud enough for me to hear.

  Spinning around, I flung the door open and fell into my seat with a bang.

  “Who was that?” Mason didn’t bother taking his focus away from his phone.

  “Someone your father used to work with,” I murmured as I started the car. Pulling away from the curb, I pointed the car east. Turning to Mason, I asked, “Do you have clothes at Grandma and Grandpa Bell’s house?

  Mason’s head flinched back slightly.

  “Do you or don’t you?” I raised my voice, feeling like I was running out of time.

  “I do,” Mason stuttered.

  “And a toothbrush?”

  “Everything, Mom.” He squished his eyebrows together and spoke in a meek voice.

  Keeping one hand on the wheel and an eye on the road, I swiped through my list of contacts in my cellphone and put a call in to Gavin’s parents. After a couple of rings, Gavin’s mother, Irene Bell, answered. “Hey Irene, it’s Sam. I have Mason with me and was hoping he could sleep there tonight.”

  “Is everything all right?” It wasn’t Irene’s normal first response to be so concerned, but after yesterday, everyone was on edge.

  I flicked my gaze to my son. No. Everything is far from being fine. “Everything is fine. It’s just that I’m working on a tight deadline and would prefer if Mason wasn’t left alone while I completed it.”

  “Yes. Yes. Of course. Roger and I are home watching television.”

  “Great. Thank you.” I told Irene we would be there in under ten minutes and, as soon as I hung up the phone, I relaxed knowing Mason would be sleeping somewhere safe.

  “Mom, what’s happening in the world?”

  I readjusted my grip on the steering wheel and swallowed. “I’m not sure I know myself.”

  “Nolan told me something that Tim said just before he shot Nolan.”

  My eyes grew wide as I held my last breath in my lungs until it burned. Mason stared but I couldn’t look him in the eye. I knew what he was about to tell me.

  “Nolan said he was looking for me.”

  My lips were dry and there was a thickness in my throat that made breathing hard. I knew I should have been the one to tell Mason earlier but I’d been afraid. Maybe it was best h
e heard it from his friend instead of me.

  “I know I look different, but I never thought it would be a reason for someone to want to kill me.”

  I took my right hand off the gear shifter and reached to Mason. Pushing my fingers through his thick head of hair, I said, “Baby, the world can be a cruel place.”

  “I know, Mom. But I guess what I’m trying to say is, was that why those people came to protest tonight? Because they don’t like people of color?”

  “It could be.” I turned down the street Gavin’s parents lived on. “You know, when your father and I started dating, people said all sorts of things.”

  “Because he was black?”

  “And I was white.” I nodded. “But you can’t let their words stop you from living your life.”

  I slowed to a stop, parking in front of the house along the curb. Mason stared into his lap and was quiet for a long while before turning to face me. “Mom, am I safe?”

  I shuffled my feet and sighed. “Do you feel safe?”

  Mason cast his expression downward as he shook his head no. “Not always.”

  I reached for his hand. “Now are you feeling safe?”

  “I don’t know,” he mumbled. Then he glanced at me out of the corner of his eye. “Do you feel safe?”

  I froze. My tongue was tied. Of course I didn’t. “C’mon, get your stuff. Grandma Bell is waiting.” I pointed to the front door where Irene stood on the front stoop beneath the porch light in her night gown.

  We scampered up to the house, arriving to open arms. Irene wrapped Mason up inside her old arms and squeezed him until Mason was embarrassed. Then it was my turn and, when I hugged her, I whispered, “Thank you.”

  “Sam, I’ve been watching the news. Something big happened in Park Hill. This doesn’t have anything to do with yesterday, does it?”

  My muscles were still weak when I nodded. “I think it might.”

  Irene gasped and covered her mouth with one hand.

  “I’m hoping to learn more when I meet up with Alex King.”

  Irene pulled back and looked me in the eye. There was a familiar sparkle that made me feel at home. “Mason told us about you two.”

  “I’m sorry,” I frowned. “I’ve been meaning to say something.”

  “Don’t bother, honey.” Irene tipped her chin back and smiled. “You deserve to be happy. And, in case there is any doubt, Alex would have been Gavin’s choice, too.”

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Cooper was curled up at my feet as I sat on the couch with my legs stretched out and my laptop perched on my thighs. I was researching the medallion that left me freaked out while keeping one eye on the news.

  As soon as I’d said a quick hello to a tired Roger and said my goodbyes to Mason and Irene, I headed straight home. The entire drive, I thought about Irene’s comment about me now dating Alex. But, more than anything else, I thought about how I couldn’t answer Mason’s question about whether or not I felt safe.

  I felt awful about it. Not wanting to lie to him, Mason didn’t have to wait for an answer because he already knew what I was going to say. I didn’t feel safe. But what really left me feeling unsettled was the fact that I couldn’t put a finger on the danger I felt lurking.

  Cooper lifted his head and gave me his sweet puppy dog look as if reading my mind. I swore he could sometimes. “I know, buddy, you’ll keep me safe.” I scratched behind his ear with my toe.

  Cooper lowered his head and went back to sleep. Even with him here, the house was far too quiet for complete comfort.

  The TV screen flashed in the corner of the room and, as I read the headlines from the continuous coverage of what was happening in Park Hill, my thoughts were with King.

  I hadn’t heard from him since the last time we’d spoken on the phone. As the minutes turned to hours, my thoughts kept me in a perpetual state of uncertainty. But at least I knew where he was and that he wasn’t alone.

  A surge of emotions resurfaced and I could no longer keep my blood from boiling over.

  I closed out my internet browser and booted up a new Word document. My fingers went straight to work, pounding at the keys, as my thoughts poured out of me.

  I rehashed my day, relived my night, the words spilling onto the page easily. What was originally planned as a story to call for peace and unity quickly turned into something that sounded more like a far-fetched conspiracy. As soon as I mentioned a second shooter still on the loose, I knew I couldn’t put it to print.

  Two hours had passed by the time I checked my phone. It was now after midnight and there was still no update from King.

  Hey. Just thinking of you. I’d love to see you tonight. I’m home.

  After sending my message, I set my laptop down on the coffee table and sank deeper into the couch. Exhaustion pulled at my eyelids. As I drifted to sleep, I suddenly found myself wide awake when remembering something Markus had said earlier.

  Pushing myself upright, Cooper raised one brow. “It’s all right, boy. Just struck with a thought.”

  I reached for my laptop and quickly typed Pastor Michaels’s name into the search bar. As my screen populated, I flicked my gaze to the white eagle medallion.

  Why did you give that to me? I asked myself.

  I didn’t want it. Maybe he was hoping that it would be enough reason for me to search for what I was now looking for.

  When I rolled my gaze back to my computer screen, Pastor Michaels’s face filled my search results. A flood of memories came rushing back. The day he officiated my wedding ceremony with Gavin and how Gavin insisted it had to be him. I remembered Mason’s baptism and the smile on Pastor Michaels’s face as he held the crying child; the countless Sundays I attended his service. We had a long history and yet, now, as I stared into his picture on my computer screen, I wondered if I knew him at all.

  Digging deeper into the pastor’s online life, my heart beat wild with anticipation.

  My eyes scanned the text and I read as fast as I could, only slowing down when landing on specific details I didn’t know.

  Pastor Michaels was an activist in the mid-1990s and apparently an outspoken critic of what he called “institutionalized workplace suppression,” or his way of saying the policy of affirmative action wasn’t working.

  I didn’t find this all too surprising. I knew Pastor Michaels fought for the rights of the African American community—he always had. But it was another piece that stole my attention.

  According to the article, Pastor Michaels organized marches to rally against racial injustice during the same years King mentioned the Patriots of God coming onto the scene. The irony of the same thing happening at his vigil tonight didn’t pass me.

  I kept reading.

  And what I saw next lifted the hair on the back of my neck.

  Backing away from my computer screen, it was just like Markus said. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t heard anything about this until tonight. My head floated as stars flashed across my vision. This was huge, and yet there was no reason for me to know. But, even so, I hated the feeling like I had been purposely left in the dark over something this big.

  I reached for the medallion and plucked it off the table.

  Stroking the piece of metal with my thumb I muttered, “That’s why you were given the medallion. You’re their next target.”

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Erin Tate pushed her way through the knots of protestors, snapping photos with her cellphone along the way. She needed to record everything she could tonight because somebody here knew more about the Patriots of God and who was behind its resurrection than what she knew herself.

  She ducked beneath racial slurs. Snapped photos of screaming men and woman. And spun her way around, making sure to get as many faces recorded as possible.

  “Are you a student at Community College of Denver?” she asked a young man, receiving no response. She asked another, then another. Her words, time and again, fell on deaf ears. When no one responded, she started to feel
like she was a ghost who they couldn’t see.

  Erin came to an abrupt halt.

  Standing on the tips of her toes, she scanned the sidelines with hopes of spotting Professor Croft.

  Nothing.

  She’d been at it for hours and she still had no leads.

  The police had managed to control the crowd from the initial violence that erupted earlier and were now telling everyone they had to leave the park or face arrest. Few listened and time was running out for Erin.

  Going back to work, she asked a young woman, “Why did you come here to protest tonight?”

  “Read the sign, woman!”

  The woman shoved her shoulder into Erin’s chest and pushed her out of the way. Erin winced and gripped her ribs as the air was knocked out of her. Gasping for breath, Erin managed to refill her lungs seconds later. When she stood back up, she froze.

  Markus Schneider stared with unwavering eyes.

  Erin felt her pulse speed up when suddenly she was knocked over again. The crowd of people around her swallowed her up and, by the time she resurfaced, Markus was gone.

  Whipping her head around in all directions, Erin couldn’t find him.

  She wondered if Sam had seen him, thinking he was most likely looking for her. She shook off her thoughts and went back to searching for more information that could link Croft to tonight’s protest.

  Erin backpedaled, withdrawing from the crowd, and tried a new strategy to target the people hanging to the back. Again, no one was interested in speaking, and certainly didn’t want to go on record.

  Feeling defeated, Erin was about to give up when a young woman stepped up to her and said, “You’re asking if we are from the community college?”

  Erin blinked and stared. “Yes.”

  The woman gave Erin a quick sideways glance. “I saw you today.”

  “You did?”

  “Professor Croft’s class.” She smiled.

  “Is he here?” Erin asked. “I’d really like to speak with him.”