Bell Hath No Fury

by Jeremy Waldron

  “You look beautiful.” He looped his hand around her waist and kept it there all the way to his car. Opening the door for her, Susan again thought how today was beginning so much better than yesterday.

  During the short drive to her office, they talked about this weekend’s Bronco game and plans for dinner. By the time they were parked out front, Benjamin caught Susan’s hand. “You do great work. Remember that when things get tough.”

  “Thank you.” Her face beamed. “I know.”

  Benjamin took her face inside his hand and kissed her goodbye. “I’ll call you later.”

  Susan watched Benjamin drive away and, once he was out of sight, she turned on a heel and hurried up the sidewalk. Her cheeks were flush with memories lingering and she could still feel the way Benjamin’s lips made her body tingle. He was so perfect, she thought. How did I get so lucky?

  “Susan Young?”

  Susan swept her gaze up and nearly smacked into Rick Morris. “Yes.” Rick introduced himself, but Susan knew who he was from Samantha. If it hadn’t been for Sam, Susan would have recognized Rick from the news clips she had seen. “What can I do for you?”

  “I would have called but I thought meeting in person would be better.” Rick kept his hands buried deep inside his jacket pockets and shifted uncomfortably back and forth on his feet as if he was riding ocean swells on a boat. “I was told you have money for me.”

  “Who told you that?” Susan’s eyebrows squished.

  “I can’t really say.”

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Morris—”

  “Please, call me Rick.”

  “Rick,” Susan paused to meet his intense gaze, “I’m going to have to ask you to direct your questions to our attorney.”

  “To your attorney? What is this?” Rick’s face ripened apple red. “I thought you were accepting donations to the victim’s fund.”

  “You’re correct.”

  “And my son is a victim,” Rick snapped, taking an aggressive stance.

  Susan stood, unsure how to phrase her words without causing further damage. “I’m sorry for your loss, Mr. Morris. But I’m afraid I can’t speak about specifics.”

  “It’s simple. Either you have the money or you don’t. And I know you do.”

  Susan felt smaller than she was as Rick towered over her. “Mr. Morris—”

  “No. I told you to call me Rick. You’re not listening. No one is listening,” he fumed. “We are victims, too. My son deserves what the others are receiving.”

  Susan stared, her gaze bouncing between his wild eyes. “Again, I’m sorry for your loss. Please contact our attorney. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

  Susan ducked and stepped around Rick. Jolted by his hand clamping around her arm, Susan’s heartrate spiked. Feeling terrified, Susan thought about screaming for help but instead said, “Let go of me or I’ll call the cops.”

  “I expect to get an answer from you by tomorrow about how much my family will receive. I know you have the funds,” he sneered. “If I don’t hear from you, just think how the white community will react to you playing favorites.”

  Susan’s thoughts flashed back to last night. She remembered the words of hate she’d heard being screamed at both sides. The community was already divided. If Rick acted on his threat, Susan could only imagine how she would be blamed for further dividing her own community between racial lines.

  Rick released Susan’s arm when Carly stepped out and asked, “Susan, is everything okay?”

  Susan’s fingers tingled with pins and needles as the blood rushed back into her arm. Without looking, she knew it would bruise. “I’m fine.” Her voice cracked as she nodded enthusiastically.

  “Tomorrow,” Rick whispered close to Susan’s ear before walking off.

  As soon as he was gone, Susan rushed into her office, shut the door behind her, and immediately reached for the phone to call for help.

  Chapter Fifty-One

  Draped in the comfort and protection of King’s arms, I smiled at nothing in particular. All my uneasy feelings were washed away when King agreed to stay with me overnight. It was the first time I shared a bed with someone who wasn’t Gavin. With Mason out of the house, it made it easy to not think too much into what I—what we—were doing.

  I was hyper-aware of the way King held onto me. He made me feel safe, and I knew he cared. Though he never said it, I knew he worried about my safety—Mason’s too.

  Latching both hands onto his forearms, I closed my eyes and inhaled his sweet scent.

  I loved everything about him. We hadn’t been dating for long, but our relationship was mature. We were two consenting adults knowing exactly what we were doing. There was no need to beat around the bush or play any games. This was meant to be. While I knew Gavin would approve, it didn’t hurt to have Irene tell me the same thing.

  When King stirred, I twisted around in his arms and faced him.

  His eyes were heavy with sleep but, as soon as he saw me, he cracked a smile.

  Taking my face between his rough hands, the pads of his thumbs stroked my rosy cheeks. Our eyes swayed back and forth and King could see something was on my mind.

  “Did you get much sleep?” he asked.

  “Alex, why did you never marry?”

  He rolled onto his back, tucked one arm behind his head, and stared up at the ceiling.

  I tucked my body against his side and traced lazy circles over his chest with the tips of my fingers. “I’m sorry, too early for those type of questions?”

  He didn’t react. “There was someone close once.”

  I was jolted with surprise. This was news to me. I liked that there was still something mysterious about him that I didn’t already know. “What happened?”

  “Her name was Angelina.” His words came out in a soft whisper. “But it fell through not long after I made Detective.”

  Silence fell over us and I knew the story all too well. The job of detective was a demanding one and King’s schedule was rigorous. Having to be on call twenty-four-seven was only half the reason dating a detective was difficult. It was the other half of him witnessing the gruesome leftovers by the sickest members of our society that proved disastrous. It wasn’t a lifestyle meant for everyone but I knew it better than anybody—experienced as much as he had.

  “I’m glad you haven’t found anybody,” I murmured.

  King lifted his head off the pillow and looked me in the eye.

  “And Gavin would be happy, too.”

  King brushed his fingers up and down my arm, holding me tight.

  “It’s not weird for you, is it?” I asked.

  King’s hand stopped moving and he took his time to answer. “Gavin was one of my best friends. I know he would rather it be me than anybody else. It’s not weird. I just don’t want to pretend like I can fill Gavin’s shoes.”

  “No one is asking you to,” I said, sharing Irene’s words. I crawled up King’s body and pressed my lips against his. “Can I make you breakfast?”

  “You can make me anything you’d like.”

  We kissed again before he tossed the covers and disappeared into the shower. As soon as he was gone, I made the mistake of turning on the television.

  The news cycle was already going.

  I stared with disbelief filling my eyes.

  The screen filled with images of cars flipped over, fires burning, shops vandalized. What happened? Overnight, Park Hill erupted as news spread about the shooting of innocent Dennis Hall. The people blamed the white officers who were first on scene, but I knew that was a lie. The cops weren’t responsible. It was this second shooter we were hoping to find—the one no one could talk about—and as the sickening feeling in my stomach spread, I knew that this was the exact response this asshole wanted.

  King’s cellphone beeped with a series of messages, most of which I ignored. A second later, King walked out with only a towel wrapped around his tight waist.

  “Look at what happened,” I said, pointing to the TV. />
  King’s face tensed as she stared. “Bloody hell.” King muttered a few curses beneath his breath. “This was what I was afraid might happen.”

  “You weren’t the only one.”

  King reached for his phone. “It’s an update from LT,” he said after catching himself up on his backlog of messages.

  “Still have time for breakfast?”

  When his eyes landed on me, I watched his shoulders relax. “Yeah. But I might have to eat and run.”

  I let King have some privacy when getting dressed and headed into the kitchen, not wanting to miss my chance to feed him before we both headed off to work. Taking the eggs and sliced bread out of the fridge, I was embarrassed by how little food I kept in the house. But there was still the Chinese Susan had brought the other night. Though I knew King wouldn’t mind eating that if we had to, I decided on sticking with my original plan.

  After turning on the burner, I checked my own messages. There was still nothing from Nancy Jordan. I was starting to doubt she had anything new on Professor Croft that Erin and I didn’t already know. But there was still a chance she knew something else. And that was what had me worried most. If she jumped the gun on telling this story first, she might be the reason the second shooter would be tipped off that we were on to him.

  I fed Cooper and then called Mason.

  Irene answered after the second ring. “Just calling to check in,” I said.

  Irene was quick to jump into telling me they were safe and last night’s activity stayed close to the commercial zones. There wasn’t anything to worry about. “Here’s Mason, darling.” The phone rustled. “Good talking with you, Sam. Be careful out there when you’re working.”

  When Mason got on the phone, I said, “Hey sweetie, did you sleep well?”

  “I’m still tired.”

  “Grandma Irene said you were watching the news.”

  “Not really, but I know what’s going on. Is that why you’re calling?”

  Plopping the sliced bread into the toaster, I held my phone to my ear with my shoulder. “I have a busy day of work ahead of me. I just wanted you to know in case anything came up and you were wondering where I was.”

  “I know, Mom. You’re always working.”

  My entire body ached with the truth of his words. I didn’t have a choice. “Anyway—”

  “Mom, I want to visit Nolan today.”

  I paused and stood still. “I’ll tell you what, if I can catch a break, I’ll come pick you up and we can go together.”

  “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

  I could just see Mason rolling his eyes at me. “Mason, you saw what happened last night, heard what’s happening in Grandma Bell’s neighborhood. It’s dangerous out there and I’m trying to figure out what is happening to keep us safe.”

  “I knew it,” Mason grumbled. “It’s always about you.”

  “Mason—” I heard the phone line click and knew I had lost him.

  I spun around and felt my body close. Heat flushed up my spine. I didn’t know what to do about my teenage son. He could be such a pill sometimes.

  Cracking an egg, I watched it sizzle in the pan as my thoughts churned, filing through the case, reminding myself of everything I knew. I couldn’t stop thinking about Markus and how he seemed like a likely suspect except for the fact that he was being so brutally honest with me. Did he not know that I would learn of his past? He didn’t seem that arrogant. However, he did have enough arrows pointing his way for me to wonder if he was the mysterious second shooter.

  First, he knew Pastor Michaels’s secret connection to Kenneth Wayne’s conviction. Second, he probably held enough resentment against Lieutenant Baker to want to take action. Those alone were enough for me to believe he had reason to justify the killings.

  Either way, it was clear to me that both the lieutenant and the pastor weren’t safe.

  The toast popped and the egg yolks were running—just the way I liked them—by the time King snuck up behind me and wrapped his big, strong arms around my body.

  He gathered my hair inside his hands, nuzzled his nose in my neck, and said, “I can feel your mind is already drifting to work.”

  “And what does that feel like?”

  “It feels like this.” He massaged my stiff neck, my shoulders almost instantly releasing their stress. Despite how great his hands felt working out the knots in my back, I found it impossible to stay relaxed knowing how close this case was coming between me and my family. “Relax,” he said.

  “I can’t.” King spun me around and I tipped my chin back to look him in his eyes. “I keep thinking about Markus and his determination to wedge his way into my life. It’s like he’s following my shadow, wanting me to know he’s not far from where these crimes are being committed.”

  “I’ll look into it.” King gripped my hips and yanked me closer. “I promise.”

  I knew he would, but King’s words last night had me feeling spooked. Had Markus fooled me into believing he was here because of Gavin? Or did I have it all wrong?

  King lowered his brow and moved to the plates of food. Taking them both into his hands, he said, “I’d like to know myself.” He flicked his gaze to me. “Ask him why he came to say hi to you and not me.” He winked, getting me to laugh, but the moment of joy was short-lived.

  “If Gavin had enemies inside the department—people who are your colleagues now—you would tell me, wouldn’t you?” My muscle fibers quaked.

  King came to a dead stop and stared into my eyes. I saw a twinkle of truth sparkling in his blues when he said, “Of course.”

  King sat at the table and I followed him but I still couldn’t shake the nerves out of my system. “My face has been published everywhere lately. Anyone can find me. I make myself an easy target every time I publish an article someone doesn’t agree with.” My worries were coming out as fast and straight as an arrow. King was my target, and I felt bad for shooting him with all my concerns.

  King draped his hand over mine, looked me in the eye. “I’ll check Markus out.”

  When he squeezed my hand, I knew I had to let this go—trust him to do everything in his power to check out this potential danger. He released my hand when his cellphone rang.

  “It’s Alvarez,” he said, glancing at the screen. Excusing himself from the table, he took the call in the living room.

  My stomach was still unsettled as my thoughts kept tumbling inside my head.

  I couldn’t stop thinking how Lieutenant Baker not only was promoted to detective, but now sat high on the totem pole of command within the police department. If Markus resented him then, I could only imagine how he was feeling about him now.

  If only I could confront Markus without tipping him off that we were onto a second shooter, then maybe I could learn enough to give us an idea what he’d been up to since coming back to town. But, first, I needed to warn Pastor Michaels that his secret was out and that is life could be in danger.

  My own cellphone rang and, when I picked it up, Erin said, “Sam, are you home?”

  “I’m home.” My blood rushed to my toes.

  “I’m coming over. You’re not going to believe what I discovered.”

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  The Sniper set down his pen and rubbed his eyes. He stared at the letter he had rewritten a half-dozen times, thinking he had finally gotten it right.

  The news flickered on the television in the background. He hadn’t got much sleep since his journey began. He sat there, alone, thinking how Kenneth Wayne would be proud of him and his crusade. After all, the Sniper was doing it for him—for the future of his community.

  Wayne had sat behind bars for far too long, and the fact that the Sniper knew he had been convicted under false pretenses left him with a sour taste in his mouth. The Sniper swore to bring revenge to the people who’d wronged Wayne. He promised to do anything to get people to remember the man who was wrongly convicted of a crime he didn’t commit. It seemed as the world had forgotte
n, moved on, and was okay with putting an innocent man in prison. But not the Sniper. He would never forget.

  Reaching for his coffee mug, the Sniper brought it to his mouth. It was empty so he stood and went to make another pot when he stopped to stare at the television.

  Turning up the volume, a smirk sprouted at the corner of his mouth.

  The morning anchor spoke of riots and unrest. The Park Hill community was reacting exactly as the Sniper had hoped. Yes, Dennis Hall was shot by those evil white cops. The Sniper laughed hysterically.

  But then he stopped when he heard the news anchor say, “The police are investigating whether there is a connection between the riots and the protests that erupted into violence at last night’s candle light vigil for the school shooting victims of North High.”

  With his heart knocking loud against his chest, pride filled his lungs. His skin was raw. He was devious in his master plan as he considered it a stroke of genius. The Sniper even considered thanking Pastor Michaels for his assistance. If it were not for his vigil, the Sniper wouldn’t have had the perfect distraction that had allowed him to sow the seeds of doubt.

  Laughing his way to the coffee maker, he knew that ballistics would come back and clear the names of the two officers. But, for now, he had the community believing him. The Sniper dumped the ground beans into the back of the machine, flipped the switch on, and checked his watch for the time.

  He had his next target already in the crosshairs. With the city’s unrest, the Sniper was granted easy access to complete his mission and let the city of Denver know that the Patriots of God were back. That Kenneth Wayne deserved to be set free.

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  As soon as I was off the phone with Erin, I immediately put a call in to Allison.

  “I understand that, Sam. I’m trying my best.” Allison was as tense as I felt. The urgency to hack into Timothy Morris’s accounts was wearing on us all.

  “I know you are, sweetie.” I pressed my hand flat on my forehead, not wanting to add to her stress. But time was running out.