Bell Hath No Fury

by Jeremy Waldron

  “Look,” the woman stepped closer, “I’ll make you a deal.”

  “What kind of deal?”

  “If I’m going to allow you to interview me, then you need to make sure my name is front and center in whatever paper you get your story published in.”

  Erin shifted her weight to her opposite leg. She thought about her website and podcast with Sam and said, “I might be able to do that.”

  “Oh,” the woman wiggled her eyebrows, “and tag me in all the social media posts, too.” She grinned. “I want to go viral.”

  Erin resisted the urge to roll her eyes at the ridiculous request but decided to play along. After having a night like this one, she was about to do anything to learn what Croft said to get his students to come here tonight—and be so passionate about it, too.

  “I think I can do that.”

  “Great. My name is Heidi Strauss.” The woman perked up. “What do you want to know?”

  Erin jotted down Heidi’s name. “Is everyone here from Professor Croft’s class?”

  “Nah. Not everyone.” Heidi pointed to the current students and then picked out a dozen faces she said were from prior classes Croft taught. “We might not be all from the same class, but we did all come here to make sure our voices could be heard.”

  Erin did a quick once-over of Heidi. She was well dressed, seemed to come from a well-to-do family. Erin couldn’t possibly understand why a white middle class, suburbia-raised child, like she assumed Heidi to be, could be so worked up about being treated like she was a minority herself.

  “Why here? Why tonight? Why target a community who is grieving?” Erin’s questions flew off her tongue at the speed of light.

  “Simple.” Heidi bounced excitedly on her toes. “Professor Croft encouraged us to come here tonight for extra credit.”

  “And the people who aren’t currently enrolled in his class, what do they get out of it?”

  “Media coverage.” Heidi turned and faced the cameras. She smiled and waved before spinning back around to Erin. “Croft knew they would be here. He’s never wrong, you know?”

  Erin didn’t know what to think as she stared over Heidi’s shoulder toward the satellite vans and TV news crews.

  “Oh, he said something else, too.”

  “Who, Croft?”

  “Yeah. Said something big was going to happen.” Heidi’s eyes drifted down Erin, thinking that her being interviewed by Erin was the big thing Croft had mentioned. But Erin knew the girl had completely missed the point. “Looks like he was right.”

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Cooper’s barking pulled me instantly from my deep sleep. His ears were tucked back and his tail stiff as an arrow. Rubbing my eyes, I swung my feet to the floor and said, “Coop. What is it boy?”

  He stared at the front door, growling.

  Flipping my hair over my shoulder, I perked an ear and glanced around the dark house. Remembering I was alone, my heart knocked harder. I turned my attention back to the front door, glad to see the deadbolt still locked.

  A subtle knock sent Cooper into a frenzy.

  “Coop, easy!” I stood, moved to the door cautiously, and checked to see who it was.

  My lungs released at the sight of King.

  Grabbing Cooper by the collar, I opened the door and pulled him back. “Hey, sorry. I fell asleep on the couch. Come in.”

  Cooper’s tail wagged as King bent to greet him. Rubbing his ears, King met my sleepy gaze. “I got your message. It’s not too late, is it?”

  I pushed my hand through my messy hair and turned toward the couch. “You should have called.” When King didn’t respond, I glanced over my shoulder to find him giving me a look like I was crazy. “You did call, didn’t you?”

  He raised both his eyebrows and grinned.

  I rubbed my forehead with feelings of shame squeezing my temples. “Sorry,” I said squishing one side of my face.

  “Is Mason home?”

  I shook my head. “I dropped him at Gavin’s parents’ house.” King stood but kept his hand on Cooper’s head. “I saw the news, Alex. What happened? Did the police really murder an unarmed black man?”

  King kicked off his shoes, removed his jacket, and moved to the couch. “It’s bad, Sam.” He flicked his gaze over to me. “Tension between the community and the police hasn’t been this high—”

  “Since the mid-90s?” I finished, falling into the opposite corner of the couch.

  King stared for a moment before nodding. “We’ve requested to put a rush on the ballistics tests, but I’m certain we’re dealing with the same shooter as yesterday.”

  I inhaled a deep breath, staring at the floor where Cooper was lying at my feet. A dark cloud fell over me as my thoughts tangled into a web of knots. I had so much I wanted to ask but didn’t know where to begin. Without looking in King’s direction I asked, “Did Gavin have any enemies within the department?”

  King’s spine peeled off the couch cushion. Resting his elbows on his knees, he turned his head and looked at me with a quirked eyebrow. “This has nothing to do with Gavin.”

  I locked eyes, wanting to believe King. It would have been so much easier if it was true but I couldn’t get the pastor’s warning out of my head—couldn’t stop linking my entire family to this group I knew nothing about until today.

  “I need to show you something,” I said.

  Kings lips slightly parted as he watched me retrieve the medallion from under my notebook on the coffee table. Handing it to him he asked, “Where did you get this?”

  “You know what it is?”

  Kings eyes rounded like saucers. “I do.”

  “Do you remember the name Markus Schneider?”

  King’s brows knitted tightly together. “I do, but how do you know it? That was a long time ago. And, if memory serves me correct, before you and Gavin got together.”

  “You have a good memory.” My smile was small, feeling flustered by a less than ideal situation. “Markus is back in town.”

  King inhaled a deep breath and cast his gaze downward to his hand still holding the medallion. “Did he give this to you?” King’s voice grew urgent, protective. He snapped his neck and faced me. “Tell me, Samantha. This isn’t just a medallion but a symbol, a call to arms. If Markus gave it to you, I need to know now.”

  A wave of heat traveled beneath my shirt. I was completely breathless when I asked, “You think it could be him?”

  King’s blue eyes hooded and his voice dropped to a whisper. “Depends if he gave this to you or not.”

  Rubbing my hands over my thighs, I stood, stepped over Cooper, and crossed my arms. “He didn’t give it to me, but someone left it for Pastor Michaels to find.”

  King shot up off the couch, rooted his hands on his hips and, when I turned to meet his gaze, he quickly looked away.

  Over the next several minutes I told King how Pastor Michaels found the medallion waiting for him moments before he was to join tonight’s vigil. King stared wide-eyed, hanging on to every word, deciding not to respond with any follow-up questions until I was completely finished.

  “Did the pastor seem afraid?”

  I watched King’s chest rise and fall as I thought about the big secret Markus revealed to me about Pastor Michaels. I drew my brows together and said to King, “You know?”

  King tucked his chin and flashed me a questioning look.

  “You know the pastor’s secret.” I felt my blood pump fast as I closed the gap that kept me separated from King. “How he was a key witness in the trial of Kenneth Wayne.”

  King kept his eyes on me as he tipped his head back.

  “I’ve done my research, Alex. I know how important Pastor Michaels’s testimony was to have the Patriots of God’s second in command convicted of murder. But is it true?”

  King lowered his brow. “Is what true, Sam?”

  My heart knocked so fast I thought I might pass out, face-plant into the floor. “Did the pastor commit perjury?”

/>   King’s cheeks hollowed. “It’s a long story, and one that no one should be speaking about.”

  Clenching my fist, I held my chin high. “Why hadn’t you told me that Pastor Michaels was a key witness in a double murder trial?”

  “Sometimes you have to break rules in order to see justice served.”

  “Christ Almighty, Alex.” My muscles quivered with the sudden shock of confirming the story’s truth.

  “That trial, Kenneth Wayne’s conviction, put an end to the Patriots of God, Sam. That was the goal. The reason Denver didn’t completely burn to the ground.”

  “But he lied?”

  “Would it be different if he wasn’t a man of God?”

  “No.” I hated King for being right. It didn’t matter who lied about what. It served a greater good, I understood that, but something about it still felt wrong. “And you couldn’t have mentioned this to me after I told you about Tim spouting off about being a Patriot of God?”

  King’s Adam’s apple slid up his throat when he visibly swallowed. “I don’t know what to tell you.”

  “Markus is telling me more than you are.”

  “What else did Markus say?” King’s jaw twitched. “And where have you been meeting with him?”

  “He said the pastor’s secret isn’t safe.”

  “I’d say he’s right if somebody is giving him that.” King pointed at the medallion.

  I wrapped my body in my arms, not feeling like myself. Suddenly, the house was much colder. King stepped forward and pulled me into his chest. I latched my hands around his waist and rested my ear against his heart, stealing all his warmth. “I’m worried about Pastor Michaels.”

  “You should have told me about Markus as soon as he tracked you down.”

  “Until tonight, I didn’t see reason to.” Tipping my chin back, I looked into King’s dark gaze. “Who is he and why are you talking about him like he’s a bad guy?”

  King’s eyes narrowed as his voice dropped down to a raspy breath. He hooked my chin with his finger to make sure I didn’t look away. “Sam, Markus is no good, and certainly no friend of Gavin’s.”

  I felt disoriented and knew there was a reason I’d sent Mason to Gavin’s parents tonight. “I know their partnership ended in divorce, but that’s as much as Gavin ever shared. Gavin never spoke of it and, like you said, it was before our time.” King’s eyes frowned. “Tell me what happened, Alex. I need to know. Erin and I are uncovering more dirt than we anticipated and I can’t be caught off guard when chasing somebody—or something—that poses so much threat to my family.”

  King threaded his fingers through mine and led me to the couch. He told me to sit. Despite being as stiff as a board, my insides fluttered with eagerness. King’s eyes were pointed down at our fingers dancing with each other. There was a long pause before he started up. “Markus and Gavin were one of the few mixed partnerships in the department. At first, they seemed perfect together. Both competitive, motivated, extremely smart.”

  “So, what happened?” I asked when King paused.

  King blew out a heavy breath and started up again. “Markus started to resent people of color after being passed on a promotion to detective.” King lifted his eyes and stared. “The person who received the promotion was black.”

  “One of our victims?”

  King shook his head. “But you do know him.”

  My head tilted to one side.

  “Lieutenant Kent Baker.” King paused to allow me a moment to catch up. Once he saw I was ready, he continued. “Markus got caught up in the movement. In those days, everyone was talking race, picking sides. That’s why Gavin refused to speak of him. Markus wouldn’t shut up. To him, it was everyone’s fault but his own that he didn’t move up the ladder. Eventually, Gavin had enough and requested he be assigned to a new partner. You know Gavin. He was a patient man until he wasn’t.”

  I laughed, remembering Gavin exactly how Alex phrased it.

  “Gavin was focused on his job. There were no gray areas with him. Markus thought DPD was discriminating against whites and left the force, not on good terms, either.”

  “So why is he back?”

  King tugged on my fingers as he shook his head. “Truthfully, I can’t believe he is.”

  “Was Markus a known member of the Patriots of God?”

  King swept his ocean blue gaze up to me. “Not to my knowledge but, again, that was a long time ago.”

  I chewed the inside of my cheek, thinking how just when my suspicions were pointing me in the direction of Rick Morris and Professor Croft, I found myself spun in a completely new direction. Turning my focus to the medallion, I asked, “Is Markus the second shooter?”

  “His timing certainly seems suspicious.” King shrugged one shoulder. “He’s also a trained marksman. An excellent shot, if I remember right.”

  I thought more about the facts and how whoever was behind this had to be smart. We weren’t just chasing an average career criminal but somebody who was well-versed in the history of what happened between the city and the police force. It had Markus’s name written all over it. But was it him?

  “You said a black cop killed Douglas Davis, the leader of Patriots of God?”

  King confirmed with a single nod.

  My palms began to sweat. “It was Gavin wasn’t it?”

  “No.”

  “No?” My brow furrowed. “I could have sworn that’s what you were telling me at the school this morning.” King was still shaking his head when I asked, “If not Gavin, then who?”

  “Sam,” King was slow with his words, “Lieutenant Baker was the one who took the kill shot.”

  Chapter Fifty

  Susan Young smiled as she woke and nuzzled her nose deeper into her big fluffy pillow. The musky masculine scent surrounding her had her waking easily.

  Pushing her hand beneath the covers, her fingers searched for the hard body she’d had her limbs wrapped around last night but it was gone. Hearing the television flicker on, Susan tucked her elbow beneath her head and curled up on one side, finding the man she had been looking for. Benjamin stood at the foot of the bed, tying his tie while staring at the screen.

  “You’re not leaving, are you?” Susan was afraid he’d been called in to work.

  Turning his head, Benjamin flashed her his award-winning smile. It was bright and full and everything Susan needed to start her day off right. He turned on a heel, purposely leaving his tie dangling loosely around his neck as he crawled back into bed.

  Susan rolled onto her back. Reaching for his tie, she took it between her fingers and pulled the big man on top of her.

  The mattress crumbled beneath his weight as he fell to one side. Keeping his head propped up on his bent elbow, Benjamin tucked a long lock of Susan’s hair behind her ear. With seduction drooping his eyelids closed, he leaned in for a kiss.

  Susan’s heart knocked and, though she wanted nothing more than a repeat of last night, she quickly turned her head away. “Not with morning breath,” she said, covering her mouth.

  Benjamin didn’t seem to care. He peppered kisses over Susan’s neck, smoothing his hand up over her fluttering bare stomach before landing on a breast. Things were moving fast between them, but Susan knew Benjamin was unlike any other man she had been with before. And she wasn’t going to miss an opportunity so good.

  “Careful, don’t start something you can’t stop.” Susan’s body tingled with anticipation.

  Benjamin had been her escape from the stress of work, her way of forgetting the fear she felt after everything she’d experienced in the last forty-eight hours. Even with the amount of work she knew was waiting for her at the office, she could delay the start of her day if it meant being with her new boy-toy for just a little while longer.

  She hooked one leg over the back of his and asked in a raspy breath, “I have time, do you?”

  Benjamin chuckled. “Kiss me and I might find the time.”

  “Benjamin! No.” Susan giggled, her body
squirming beneath his. “Let me brush my teeth first.”

  “If you leave this bed,” his hand ironed down her side, “I’m not coming back.”

  Susan turned her head and pointed to the soft spot behind her ear. “You can keep kissing me here.”

  “Like this?” Benjamin’s lips brushed the exact place Susan pointed.

  “Just like that,” she purred.

  Things were heating up and Susan was close to giving in to his demands, when suddenly both their attentions were stolen by what they heard the news anchor say on the television.

  “Did you know about this?” Benjamin asked without looking at Susan.

  “I was there.” Susan’s mind traveled to last night’s vigil.

  Shaking his head, Benjamin rolled off the bed and approached the TV with both hands planted firmly into his hips. “I worked on those kids who were shot.” He pointed to the television, expressing his disgust. “They will never be the same. And people are protesting a candle light vigil?”

  “Turn it off,” Susan requested.

  Benjamin turned back to the television and sighed. Reaching for the remote, he flicked it off. “I’m sorry.”

  Susan got out of bed and approached him. “It’s awful, I know.”

  Benjamin lifted his arm and let it fall over Susan’s back. Holding her tight, he said, “It just seems like no one has any empathy anymore.”

  Susan stood on her tiptoes and pecked at Benjamin’s lips. “I’m going to take a shower and, after I’m dressed, I would like it if you would take me to work.”

  Benjamin kissed her again, the mood lost to the tragedy, as he nudged her toward the shower.

  After Susan left the girls last night, she’d gone straight to her office. She worked a couple more hours, still unsure how to handle the strange request she’d agreed to when she accepted the envelope addressed to the Morris family. And, to complicate things even further, it wasn’t just a small sum of money. Inside the envelope, she had found a check written for ten grand.

  Showered and dressed, Susan found Benjamin in the kitchen of her condo finishing a glass of orange juice. “Ready?”