Gnosis

by Tom Wallace

  “If Stone was innocent, why did he run?” Milt said. “Why did he open fire?”

  “Because he was stupid.”

  “Well, duh.”

  “He hated cops, saw us as a threat to his freedom, and wasn’t about to let us put him behind bars again. He would rather go toe to toe with us than go back to prison.” Dantzler was quiet for several seconds, then said, “Don’t you find it interesting that Stone had the rifle and ammo right there in the living room?”

  “No, not really.”

  “Well, I do.”

  “What are you saying, Jack?”

  “Something Rocky said when we first got there has stayed with me. He said, ‘I’ve been told you were coming, and I ain’t got nothing to say to you.’ How did he know we were coming?”

  “He saw us out on the street in front of his house. The four of us, huddled together, talking. He’s an ex-con-he could spot a cop a mile away. Hell, he could smell a cop a mile away.”

  “That’s possible.”

  “But you don’t sound like you believe it.”

  “I don’t. I think he meant exactly what he said-he knew we were coming to see him.”

  “Other than the four of us, who knew we were going to see Rocky?”

  “Rich knew. Laurie. Bruce Rawlinson. I told Charlie Bolton. And I’m sure others knew as well. It wasn’t like some big secret.”

  “You’re inferring there is a leak in the department.”

  “Stone knew we were on the way. So, yeah, there’s a leak somewhere.”

  “Jesus, now we’re not only fighting the bad guys on the outside, we’re fighting the enemy within. That pretty much sucks.” Milt scratched his head and grimaced. “You have a candidate for who the snitch might be?”

  “No. But I’ll wager you this,” Dantzler said. “The snitch, whoever he turns out to be, is the person who killed those four people.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  There were times when Dantzler cursed his own stubbornness. This was one of those times.

  His stubbornness placed him squarely at odds against his colleagues, all of whom were willing to convict Stone for the Colt Rogers and Devon Fraley slayings. They also believed that given his kinship to Eli, and his access to the murder weapon, Stone was a likely suspect for the murder of those two boys in 1982. Although none of them believed deep in their heart of hearts that Stone was the lone killer, they were willing to cast aside their true feelings and grant him that distinction.

  Sympathy had replaced evidence.

  All Dantzler had to do was sign off on it and both cases would be closed. Like that, simple as snapping his fingers. Sealed, air tight, official. With Dantzler’s blessing, the late Kevin “Rocky” Stone would forever be remembered as a four-time murderer.

  But marching in lock-step with the crowd wasn’t part of Dantzler’s nature. It never had been, and he wasn’t about to change now. This was especially true when he was certain the crowd was marching in the wrong direction and to the beat of a misguided tune. If he was deemed an outsider, a lone wolf, so be it. He would always stand his ground against an erroneous consensus.

  If Dantzler gave the green light, and if Jeff Rosen agreed-which he would-then Kirk Foster could go to his boss, the governor, and have him sign the required documents necessary to free Eli. Within a matter of hours, John Elijah Whitehouse, the Reverend, would be released from prison and allowed to return home, to be reunited with his family, to live out his final days being cared for by his loved ones.

  But as much as he wanted to, Dantzler wasn’t about to sign off on it. He couldn’t agree with the prevailing sentiment. There were, he argued, too many stumbling blocks standing in his path. For starters, he couldn’t convince himself that the easy way was the correct way. In his experience, it was usually the exact opposite. The hard way typically turned out to be the correct way. Also, nothing had changed evidence-wise, a fact his colleagues seemed willing to overlook or dismiss. Dantzler wasn’t prepared to take that leap, regardless of any sympathy or empathy for Eli.

  Empathy is never enough to overturn a jury verdict.

  No, Eli didn’t kill Rogers and Fraley, and Dantzler remained convinced the old man didn’t kill those two young boys, either. But the mountain of evidence said otherwise, that Eli did in fact kill Osteen and Fowler. Until or unless Dantzler could bring down that mountain, Eli had to remain in jail. As a detective, he was bound to the evidence, not to the tug of his heart.

  Dantzler was now the lone voice arguing against laying the four murders on Kevin Stone. That made his the lone voice keeping an innocent man behind bars.

  He felt like a traitor to his own cause.

  *****

  Dantzler pulled up next to the Church of the Holy Father, got out of his car, and walked around to the front door. Standing outside, he could hear a voice coming from inside the church. He opened the door slightly and peered inside, fearing he had arrived in the middle of an evening service, or possibly a funeral. But he hadn’t. The church was empty, save for Isaac Whitehouse, who was standing alone in the pulpit, reciting a passage from Paul’s letter to Galatians in a deep, melodious voice.

  Isaac stopped speaking the moment he saw Dantzler open the door and step inside the church. Closing his Bible and notebook, he waved Dantzler forward. Stepping down off the stage, Isaac stopped at the second row of seats, leaned over, and picked up a small tape recorder. After turning off the recording device, he extended his hand to Dantzler.

  “It’s an old habit of mine to record my sermons in advance,” Isaac said. “I’ll listen to it several times between now and Sunday, make a few notes, pick out the obvious flaws. This way, I have the opportunity to critique it, to see if I’m being redundant, of if I am using certain phrases too often, or being plain old boring. There’s nothing worse than a dull sermon. This gives me some idea of the strengths and weaknesses before the curtain goes up on Sunday.”

  “Sorry if I interrupted,” Dantzler said.

  “Don’t apologize. I was almost finished. And to be honest with you, it wasn’t going particularly well. I’ll record it again later this evening, after I do a major overhaul.” Isaac pointed to one of the pews. “Have a seat, Detective. Or if you prefer, we can go to my office.”

  “This will be fine,” Dantzler said, sitting. “Did you hear about your cousin, Kevin Stone?”

  Isaac nodded. “Rachel told me. A real tragedy, Detective Dantzler. A sad end to a sad life.”

  “Will you preach at the funeral?”

  “There won’t be a funeral per se, only a brief graveside service. But, yes, I will say a few words for Kevin. He was, after all, family. I feel it’s my responsibility to help lay him to rest.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Where will he be buried?”

  “He won’t be. Believe it or not, Kevin had a will. He wanted to be cremated and have his ashes scattered over his mother’s grave.”

  “Mind my asking who is paying for the cremation?”

  “Rachel and Kirk.”

  “When was the last time you saw Kevin?” Dantzler asked.

  “Let me think about that. Oh, five years ago, maybe. I only saw him once or twice after his release from prison.” Isaac looked away. “I know you’ll find this hard to believe, Detective Dantzler, but Kevin was one of the nicest, sweetest young kids you could ever hope to meet. He was two years older than me, and when I was young-I’m talking really young-Kevin was my big hero. He was only six or seven, but I thought he was just so cool. And he always treated me like a kid brother, his best pal. Then Aunt Grace died and everything changed. His father, Vince, was a great guy, but he was simply too busy to keep a close watch on Kevin. Vince was a plumber and an electrician. He worked all the time. All the time. And to be perfectly frank, Vince lacked good parenting skills. He was a good guy, a mediocre father.

  “About a year or so after Grace died, this would be when Kevin was eight or nine, he began hanging arou
nd with the wrong crowd,” Isaac continued. “That’s when he drifted away from us. Sadly, it meant drifting away from the very people who could have helped him through what had to be a difficult time.

  “Was Kevin close to his mother?”

  “Yes, very close. And she had terrific parenting skills. Once she was gone, Kevin had no one who could help him channel his anger and frustration.”

  “My father was killed when I was six, my mother when I was fourteen. I know something about anger and frustration.”

  “I didn’t know. It must have been horrible for you.”

  “Did Eli try to help?” Dantzler said.

  “Eli and my mother both tried. They even asked Kevin to move in with us full-time, said it would be the best thing for him. Vince agreed. But Kevin didn’t want to, and I suppose none of the adults felt like pushing the issue. In retrospect, it was a mistake letting him have his way. Left alone, Kevin became a street kid, hanging out with and influenced by the wrong people. He also became mean, bitter, and exceptionally hot-headed. It didn’t take much for him to explode.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  “Are you the one who shot Kevin?”

  “No. But only because someone else shot him first.”

  “Rachel said a detective was wounded. How is he doing?”

  “Barring complications he should be okay. He was very lucky.”

  “I’ll say a prayer for him.”

  Dantzler said, “Back in ’eighty-two, did Kevin spend much time at your house?”

  “By then, he had become a professional boxer and was doing quite a bit of traveling. He was hardly ever in our house. Why do you ask?”

  “I’m looking at him as the possible shooter of those two kids in Eli’s barn.”

  “You’re putting me on, right?”

  “It’s not possible?”

  “Kevin may have killed them with his fists, but not with a gun. And certainly not with Eli’s twenty-two. That simply could not have happened.”

  “Why not?”

  “Kevin didn’t have access to Eli’s safe. He didn’t have a clue where the safe was located. Only a handful of people did.” Isaac let out a deep sigh. “Are you convinced Eli is innocent?”

  “Yes.”

  “Eli is fortunate to have you in his corner. You and Rachel.”

  “What about you? Aren’t you in his corner?”

  “I’ve seen the evidence against Eli, Detective Dantzler, and it is overwhelming. I can only believe what I see.”

  “You believe in God, but you can’t see him.” Dantzler stood. “We believe what we want to believe, Brother Isaac. For whatever reason, you don’t want to believe Eli is innocent.”

  Isaac remained silent as Dantzler left the church.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  Working a closed case was like performing open-heart surgery on a corpse: no matter how many faulty arteries you replaced, the patient didn’t get any better.

  Right now, Dantzler’s patient, the Eli Whitehouse case, was barely on life support.

  In a career that spanned more than twenty years, he had never worked a case this frustrating or this perplexing. Most cases had doors he could open, paths he could follow, evidence he could pursue. Not this one. This case offered nothing. There was nowhere to go, no new direction to turn, no fresh ideas. Dantzler felt like a painter who was staring at a blank canvas without a single brush to work with.

  “That’s some look you have on your face, Jack,” Laurie said, stepping into the War Room. “You look like a man pondering the mystery of the universe.”

  “That might be an easier mystery to solve than this one,” Dantzler said. He was sitting at the table drinking a Diet Pepsi. “Remind me again why I was dumb enough to take on a closed case.”

  “Because you are convinced an innocent man is behind bars for a crime he didn’t commit, and that’s a situation you cannot tolerate. A very noble undertaking on your part, regardless of how this case turns out.”

  “Oh, yeah? Well, let me clue you in on something. For all my efforts, all of our efforts, we haven’t changed a damn thing. The evidence as it now stands points directly at Eli Whitehouse as the shooter of those two kids in ’eighty-two. And we aren’t even close to catching the person who killed Rogers and Fraley. All this work and we’ve accomplished nothing. We’re still standing on square one, stuck in neutral.”

  “I know.”

  “And what makes it especially frustrating is Eli could end it all by simply giving us a name. Two words from him and we have the shooter of four people. Three cases solved. And Eli could walk out of prison a free man. But he won’t. The one person we’re all trying to help refuses to help himself. Thinking about it makes me want to walk away.”

  “It’ll never happen.”

  Dantzler shook his head. “No, I can’t walk away, not as long as I remain convinced Eli’s case is connected to the Rogers and Fraley murders. Four people are dead-their families deserve answers.”

  “Tell me, Jack. Have you seriously considered the possibility Eli did kill those two boys in ’eighty-two? That he is guilty? You’ve even admitted that nothing about the evidence has changed or been disproved. Maybe there is no new evidence. Maybe the verdict was the correct one.” Laurie sat across from Dantzler. “That would, of course, mean there are two shooters. It would also mean that by focusing all our attention on Eli’s case, we’ve placed too much emphasis and aimed too many resources in the wrong direction. By doing so, we’ve given the Rogers/Fraley killer a big advantage.”

  “There is only one shooter.”

  “Okay, so who are the suspects?” Laurie asked. “If you’ve ruled out Kevin Stone, who’s next on your list?”

  “I have no answer,” Dantzler admitted. “And at this point, I have nowhere to turn.”

  “Eli is your salvation.”

  “I thought I was supposed to be his.”

  “Why not approach him one more time? See what he’ll do?”

  “Won’t work.”

  “Can’t hurt to give it one more shot. Who knows? He might have a change of heart.”

  “Waste of time. Eli is not giving us the name.”

  “So… what will you do?”

  “What I’ve always done.” Dantzler stood and picked up the stack of files from the table. “Go back over the case-all three cases-and study them again from top to bottom. Keep my fingers crossed that something new or enlightening jumps out. At this stage of the game, it’s the only thing I can do. The only thing I know how to do.”

  *****

  Dantzler went home, arriving seconds ahead of a soft, gentle spring shower as pleasant as it was unexpected. An hour later, the rain had passed, the night air was warm and sticky, and he was standing on his deck, drink in hand, looking out at the lake, feeling one of those funky moods beginning to sneak up on him like an invisible assassin closing in from behind.

  He sipped his Pernod and thought about the case. More specifically, he thought about Isaac Whitehouse, the one name that kept popping up on his detective’s radar. Of all the players in this drama, Eli’s eldest child was the most mysterious and the most bewildering. His actions, his beliefs, seemed so unnatural, so unlike those of a normal child. So unlike those of his siblings.

  Rachel was convinced of Eli’s innocence, and Tommy, despite his personal problems, indicated he also felt Eli had been wrongly convicted. Not so with Isaac, who, during his two meetings with Dantzler, showed not an inkling of love or affection for Eli, only a grudging respect for the old man’s preaching ability. He refused to believe Eli might be innocent, and even more troubling, he displayed an almost total indifference to the possibility his father could leave the prison and die a free man.

  It was almost as if Isaac wanted his father to remain locked behind those steel prison bars until his last dying breath.

  Not even the biblical Isaac held such a harsh opinion of his father Abraham.

  Dantzler tried to dismiss Isaac Whitehouse as a suspect in the murder
of those two boys in 1982, but he couldn’t. His instincts wouldn’t allow it. Did he see Isaac as the shooter? No. Dantzler quickly ruled out that possibility. But ruling Isaac out as somehow being involved in the crime wasn’t so easy to do. As Dantzler saw it, there were several critical factors preventing a quick dismissal of Isaac as a suspect.

  To begin with, Isaac knew the combination to the safe, which gave him access to the.22. He could easily have gotten the gun and given it to the shooter, having made sure Eli’s prints were on it. Given Isaac’s apparent apathy toward his father, such action, although unlikely, was not beyond the realm of possibility.

  Also, Isaac was only a couple years younger than the two victims, and although he denied knowing them, it didn’t mean he was telling the truth. They may have been friends, or at the very least, acquaintances. If so, and if a link could be established, it enhanced the likelihood that Isaac was somehow involved. If nothing else, it would prove him to be a liar.

  And having been involved in the crime, Isaac could be counted on to remain silent all these years.

  But why would Isaac help perpetrate such a crime? Did he really hate Eli enough to watch him sent to prison for a crime he didn’t commit? Was Isaac that bitter, that cruel and uncaring? And if Isaac was involved, who was he covering for? Who was he protecting? Who was the shooter?

  So many unanswered questions, so many dots yet to be connected.

  Dantzler went into the kitchen and made another drink. Sitting at the table, his thoughts kept coming back to the two meetings with Isaac. During those talks, Isaac demonstrated no love for his father, but neither had he displayed any outward or overt signs of hate. Or at least, none Dantzler could detect. More than anything, Isaac seemed indifferent, almost strangely removed from his father’s plight. It was as though he simply didn’t care what happened.

  But was Isaac Whitehouse an accessory to a double murder? Was he so hate-filled, so heartless, that he was willing to ruin his own father’s life? Could any son feel so much animosity toward his father?