Bell Hath No Fury

by Jeremy Waldron

  “You need to warn him, Sam.”

  My stomach clenched as my thoughts locked on Pastor Michaels. “I will.”

  “Like, right now.” Allison left little room to argue. “If he hasn’t connected the dots…” Her words trailed off to nothing but anxious breath.

  She knew about Pastor Michaels being gifted the white eagle medallion and after I mentioned how the murder of Dennis Hall wasn’t as it seemed, Allison jumped to the same conclusion I had. Pastor Michaels’s life was in danger. Though I debated whether I should have further explained to Allison that he had a secret of his own, in the end I decided against telling her about him committing perjury. I didn’t want to be the one to taint his reputation—especially when the community needed him.

  “Just get inside Tim’s accounts. Oh, and be on the lookout for the name Markus Schneider,” I said to Allison the moment I heard King step back into the kitchen. I turned to face him and stared into the deep contours mapping out his face. There was something he wanted to tell me. I could see the urgency flickering in his eyes.

  “And who might that be?” Allison asked.

  “I’ll tell you later.”

  “I don’t like secrets, Sam.”

  “You have to trust me on this.” I told Allison I loved her and then ended our call, promising to check in as soon as I could.

  King scrubbed a wistful hand over his face.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “The ballistics came back.”

  “And?”

  King gripped his waist just above his belt. “The bullet that killed Cook Roberts was fired from the same rifle as the one that killed Dennis Hall.”

  My breath remained even. “What does your gut tell you?”

  “That Markus has every reason to be the one killing these people.” King blew out a heavy breath as if surprised by his own conclusion.

  There was a knock on my door just before Erin came spilling over the threshold. She had her hair tied up into a messy bun and her coat hung open like she had left in a rush. I called out to her, moved to King, and pressed my lips against his. “I’ll call you later.”

  “Wait? You’re not even going to finish breakfast,” King called after me.

  “Lock up when you leave.” I hooked my arm through Erin’s and dragged her to her car.

  “Did he sleep over?” Erin had a knowing glimmer in her eye. She was dying to know if King and I had finally slept together.

  “Mason is at his grandparents’ house and I didn’t feel safe home alone,” I said, falling into the passenger seat.

  Erin hurried around the front of her car and jumped behind the wheel. “I’m not trying to put my nose where it doesn’t belong.”

  I flashed her a skeptical look.

  “It’s fine if you two are sleeping together. I was just surprised to see him, is all.”

  “Really?” My cheeks burned with embarrassment.

  “Really.” Erin’s face was deadpan. “I thought King would have been out all night. I saw the news. Park Hill is rioting. Didn’t you see?”

  I flicked my gaze forward, a pressure headache forming. I wanted to tell Erin everything that I’d learned since I’d last seen her, but I didn’t know how. “I saw.”

  “Can you believe those cops killed an unarmed black man?” She cranked the engine and blasted the defrost.

  “They didn’t.” My eyes dulled to a half-mast.

  Erin paused, turned her head, and stared.

  I rolled my gaze and stared back. “The cops didn’t kill Dennis Hall.”

  Recognition flashed over her eyes. Her lips parted, then quickly snapped shut.

  “It’s him, Erin. The second shooter. He set this all up. King just confirmed it with ballistics.”

  Erin swallowed hard. “My God, another black man dead and the entire community is rallying against the department.”

  “Tell me you found something on the professor?” I kept my theories about Markus to myself, not wanting to take Erin’s focus off of whatever urgent news she couldn’t wait to share.

  “Croft never appeared last night but I did catch a break.”

  I felt my body lean closer to her, my stomach eagerly fluttering to know what she’d found.

  “Once I got home, I did some research and was able to find some information that I thought might be useful.” She pulled away from the curb and continued debriefing me, telling me that a student of his did confirm that he was behind last night’s march on the vigil. “Croft was a protestor in the 90s and, get this,” she paused and glanced to me with eyes glowing, “Markus Schneider was his student.”

  “Holy shit.” The trap doors in my stomach opened and my insides dropped to the floor.

  “Yeah. Big. I know.” Erin nodded and rolled her eyes back to the road. “I don’t know what it means, Sam, but something tells me you might.”

  My thoughts spun into a tight web of possibility. I wondered if we were wasting our time chasing Croft or Rick Morris when suddenly everything seemed to be pointing directly at Markus.

  “Are you sure about that?” I asked, making sure we weren’t chasing our own tails.

  “Positive.” Erin didn’t even flinch.

  I didn’t pay attention to where we were driving. Didn’t really care. The walls around me were crumbling and I couldn’t help but feel like I was drowning in a big conspiracy to attack the police department Gavin once worked for.

  “I saw him, Sam. I saw Markus last night.”

  “He told us he was going to be there,” I was quick to counter.

  “You saw him, didn’t you?” Erin didn’t wait for me to respond. She already knew that I had. “What did he say to you?”

  My head was still spinning, trying to make sense of the facts we had. Croft never showed at the protest he’d organized. Dennis Hall was shot about the same time the protestors arrived. “Maybe Croft and Markus are working together,” I muttered.

  The car went silent and I could feel Erin’s muscles tense.

  “Markus only showed his face after the vigil had been disrupted. Croft could have been in Park Hill knowing everyone’s attention was in the park.” I paused and felt my pulse race. I turned to Erin with big saucer eyes. “Markus overheard my conversation with Pastor Michaels.”

  “The one where he gave you the medallion?”

  I nodded.

  Erin’s brow furrowed with confusion. I quickly caught her up, telling her how Markus told me Pastor Michaels committed perjury in order to have Kenneth Wayne convicted of a double homicide. Erin listened with a slack jaw as I continued rambling on. I was hearing everything I was saying and still couldn’t believe it myself. By the end of my story, Erin knew everything I did, including that Lieutenant Baker was promoted to detective years ago and that had sown the seeds of resentment Markus had for the whole department.

  “If Croft and Markus are working together, what does Croft have to gain from this?” Erin asked.

  “I’m not sure I have an answer. But Croft has a platform to spark debate; maybe that’s all Markus needed?”

  Erin grimaced and shook her head. “But Croft was the one missing from last night.”

  She wasn’t convinced, and I still had my own doubts. Between all three of our suspects, Markus had the closest ties to Cooks Roberts, but Markus and Rick both had reason to feel like their community had let them down. I couldn’t see a reason for Croft to pull the trigger, but I did for Markus.

  Erin slammed on the brakes. The tires squealed as I jolted forward in my seat, bracing my hands on the dash to minimize the impact. Once the car had come to a complete stop, Erin stared with an unwavering gaze that had me nervous. “Are you sure the pastor lied under oath?”

  Markus had brought it to my attention. But if it hadn’t been for King’s confirmation, I wouldn’t have been certain. Nodding, I said, “I’m sure. King confirmed it.”

  “That’s what this is about then.” Her eyes were bright as lightbulbs. “Look, Sam, we’re certain this second shoote
r is a Patriot of God.” I nodded. “And if the pastor lied under oath to put Kenneth Wayne behind bars, that’s the reason to attack the same people working for the justice system that unfairly sentenced him.”

  I stared ahead, looking at nothing in particular. The sound of the engine was purring and I understood what Erin was saying except it didn’t explain why they chose to begin their battle by targeting a school.

  Erin was still gripping the steering wheel with both hands when she asked, “Could you sit in prison knowing you were framed by the police?”

  “You’re talking like Kenneth Wayne is behind the terror attacks.”

  Erin raised her brows. “Maybe he is orchestrating it from the inside?”

  “He’s been dormant for nearly two decades. Why start up his fight now?”

  “I don’t know.” Erin shrugged. “But maybe we should learn if any of our suspects have been visiting him recently.”

  Erin was onto something. Wayne was here in Colorado. It would be easy to pay him a visit. I agreed we should, but added, “The pastor doesn’t know that his secret is out.”

  “Call him, Sam.” Erin smacked the wheel with the palm of her hand. “Tell him now. He needs to know.”

  I dug out my cellphone with my heart hammering and made the call. The line rang twice before clicking over to voicemail. I ripped out a string of curse words. “Pastor, it’s Sam.” Erin dropped the gear and pointed her car into the sea of traffic. “Your secret isn’t safe. You know the one I’m referring to. The one you’ve been living with for close to twenty years. I know about it and so do others. Listen, I’m coming to the church now. Don’t talk to anyone. Your life could be in danger.”

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  Red brake lights stared back at me like little devil’s eyes laughing at our sorry attempt to speed to the church. I slammed my fist down on the dash. The sound of it cracked the air. Erin’s knee bounced and she couldn’t sit still.

  It seemed we hit every road block imaginable, including traffic. It was slow moving and I grew extremely frustrated by our inability to get to where we needed to go. Every second counted and Pastor Michaels still hadn’t responded to my message.

  Finally, we funneled past the accident that had caused the delay and Erin put her foot down to the floorboard and sped off. A minute later, we were zipping into the church parking lot and coming to a dead stop near the front entrance.

  I had my door open before the wheels stopped turning. My feet hit the ground running. Rushing inside, I was afraid that we might have been too late. Scared of what we might find, we couldn’t know when the second shooter would strike again, but were betting that he would. Erin kept pace and, as soon as we entered the big room, we ran up the aisles until digging our heels into the ground when seeing the pastor alive.

  Pastor Michaels came out of nowhere and, when he saw the two of us, he raised his eyebrows and smiled. I sucked back a deep relieved breath, wanting to keel over and die with embarrassment.

  “Don’t act so surprised to see me.” The pastor chuckled. “I practically live here. You, on the other hand,” he angled toward us, “probably have work to do.”

  “Did you get my message?”

  He responded with a questioning look.

  “I left you a message.” Erin nudged me to move along, step closer to the man we had come to see. My feet dragged over the floor as I walked, my heart heavy as if afraid of getting too close to the eyes I once thought of as pure.

  “I’m sorry, Sam. I must have missed it.” The pastor gripped his bible between both hands and brought it to his chest. “Unfortunately, another funeral request came to my desk. As if I didn’t have enough already to conduct this week.”

  “Dennis?” My whispers grew louder as they echoed off the chamber walls.

  The pastor frowned and nodded once. “What is it that couldn’t wait?”

  Wiping my palms on my thighs, I asked, “Is there somewhere we can talk in private?”

  The pastor flicked his eyes to Erin. “We are alone and beneath the eyes of God.” He leaned forward and stood on the tips of his toes. “Whatever it is you came to say can be told in the presence of Jesus.”

  I felt my neck pulsating, a throbbing ache stitching my side. “I have some questions I wanted to ask you about the Kenneth Wayne murder trial.”

  The pastor’s face flushed pale. “You’re right.” His eyes sank deep into his skull. “We better have this conversation in my office.”

  We followed Pastor Michaels through the corridors and into his office. Shutting the door behind him, we each took a seat. I watched the pastor stare at the wooden cross hanging on his wall. He had the sagging look of a man riddled with a life of guilt. The room spun and the air buzzed with anticipation. His shoulders curled forward when he broke the silence saying, “I have feared when this day would come.”

  Struggling to keep my own emotions from boiling over, I told him how I’d learned of his secret. “But what I want to know is how Markus Schneider knows.”

  The pastor was still staring at the cross. His lips fluttered soft whispers only he could hear. Erin nudged him into spilling the truth by saying, “Markus was with the department when you were made a witness, isn’t that right, Pastor?”

  Breaking his trance, the pastor cast his gaze to his threaded fingers, closed his eyes, and smiled as if finding peace in prayer.

  “Markus overheard our conversation last night,” I said with a rolling stomach. “Was he the one you were warning me about?”

  The pastor opened his eyes, turned to me, and asked, “Do you have the medallion with you?”

  I pushed my hand deep into my pants pocket and retrieved the medallion.

  “Can I see it?” His eyes were so soft I wondered if he hadn’t already made peace with himself for the danger he had put himself in long ago.

  I dropped the medallion into his open palm. Pastor Michaels inspected it for a moment before saying, “I know Markus was there last night.” He lifted his gaze and locked it on mine. “And, yes, Markus was the one name I was thinking of when I warned you about Gavin having enemies.”

  The hair lifted off my nape and I momentarily stopped breathing to consider the weight of what he had just said. Markus was Gavin’s enemy, yet he was here, trying to be friends with me. Why?

  “Do you think Markus left that for you to find?” I asked.

  Pastor Michaels set the medallion down on top of his desk and pushed it back to me. “I knew this day was coming. My day of judgement.” His smile never hit his eyes. “There hasn’t been a day that has gone by since I testified in Wayne’s trial that I haven’t felt death breathing down my neck. The fear I’ve lived in since then has been punishment from God for what I did.”

  “We need to protect you.” I gripped the edge of his desk, watching my knuckles go white. “Let us take you to the police. It’s clear your life is in danger.”

  Shaking his head, he refused. “I can’t run away from this. I’m not going to hide, either.”

  “You could die, you know that?” My heart drummed so loud I swore everyone in the room could hear it.

  Without flinching, the pastor looked us in our eyes and said, “We will all face that moment of truth when the Lord calls our name.”

  “So, if Markus knows about your perjury, who else knew?” Erin asked.

  The pastor swiveled in his chair and brought both elbows to the table’s surface. “Gavin knew. So did Lieutenant Baker.” Before Erin could present him with a follow up question, he said, “But they would never speak out.”

  I wondered if he could be so certain about that. We all had our breaking points. Maybe someone had reached their limit. “That doesn’t explain how Markus knew.”

  The pastor peeled his gaze off the cross. “He should have never known.”

  “Who revealed your secret. And why?”

  There was a soft knock on the wooden office door. The pastor called out to his visitor, inviting her inside. A middle-aged woman peeked her head i
nto the small study and said to the pastor, “It’s time.”

  Pastor Michaels nodded. “Thank you. I’ll be out in a moment.” As soon as the door shut, he turned his attention back to us. “My community is in turmoil and needs me to attend to them.”

  “Your community is taking their fight to the police under false pretenses.” I told him how Dennis Hall wasn’t killed by the white officers like everyone had thought. As soon as I said it, I knew I’d let too much of my own secret escape.

  Pastor Michaels stood and ironed his hands down his front. With wisdom filling his eyes, he said, “That doesn’t erase the fact that Dennis is dead and hearts are broken.”

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  Alex King sat at his detective desk downtown reading up on the trial of Kenneth Wayne. He wanted to remind himself of the details, the timeline of events. It was a different time, a lifetime ago. So much had happened since that even his outlook had changed. King was one of the few white officers who knew the pastor’s secret. Gavin had let him in on it. Though Gavin hadn’t approved of the strategy himself, it hadn’t been his decision to make. Nor was it King’s.

  King had Wayne’s photo pulled up on a second browser and he printed off Wayne’s criminal record for reference. He couldn’t stop thinking about Markus or the legacy of Wayne and the Patriots of God that had been left behind the day he was sentenced to a lifetime in prison.

  Someone knew the pastor’s secret and was making a point to let him know, but who?

  Searching old files in the police database, King couldn’t find anyone from those days who wasn’t already locked up or six feet underground. Yet someone from the movement was working hard to reignite the tension between neighborhoods. Why?

  King dove back into the stacks of reports he had printed off on Wayne.

  According to the prison warden, Wayne had a reputation for good behavior. His last report even mentioned Wayne’s work to assist other prisoners toward a successful path of rehabilitation.

  King’s knee stopped bouncing when he lifted his gaze off the text.