by Jim Laughter
Preach edged closer to the window, still holding Robbie around his waist. The boy struggled but his grandfather was too strong.
“Don’t worry, James,” Preach said to the boy. “You’ll be resurrected soon to be with Jesus.”
“I need you to put the boy down,” Benjamin repeated. “You don’t want to harm your grandson.”
Robbie’s muffled cries filled the room.
“Look at your grandson, sir. You’re scaring him. You love Robbie. You don’t want to hurt him.”
Preach turned Robbie around and looked at the boy but didn’t seem to recognize him.
“I’m sorry, James,” he said. “God’s ways are not our ways.”
“Clear to fire,” George Benjamin spoke into the portable radio. “Take your shot.”
Preach Preston stood Robbie on his feet and grabbed his arm to drag him to the window. The boy fell to the floor and shrugged away from his grandfather’s grasp which left him exposed to the open window.
A rifle shot sounded from below and a sniper’s bullet slammed into Preach’s chest, puncturing his right lung. The bullet exited his back, shattering his shoulder blade. His crooked right arm raised into the air as if in a desperate act of prayer. The impact of the bullet knocked Preach backward and to the floor. Blood gushed from the wounds and soaked the front and back of his shirt.
Preach Preston lay on his back gasping for air, the sound of blood gurgling in his throat from the bullet wound in his lung. A dark pool of blood seeped from underneath the evangelist as his life spilled onto the floor.
Benjamin knelt down beside Preach Preston and placed his ear near his lips, listening to Preach’s final words.
“Eloi, Eloi, lama sabach thani?”
Grundy Cooper loosened Robbie’s bonds and tried to keep the boy from seeing his grandfather’s dead body. “What did he say, George?” Benjamin didn’t answer.
“George!” Cooper repeated. “George? What did he say, George?”
“My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?”
Epilogue
“Are you going home for Thanksgiving?” Lynn Keller asked George Benjamin. She, Morris, and Benjamin were just wrapping up their final paperwork for the day. It didn’t feel like Tuesday but then again, it didn’t feel like November. The last few weeks had passed in a blur since they’d solved the interstate serial killer case. There had been so many loose ends to tie, so many people to talk to, so many details to document, and case files to close. How they’d managed to get it all done in three weeks was simply a miracle.
“Yes ma’am,” George answered then grinned at Keller, ribbing her on her fetish about being called ma’am. “Latrice and I fly out in the morning. We’ll be in Tulsa by early afternoon, spend Thanksgiving with our folks then fly back to DC Sunday night. We’ve been invited to attend Dr. Robert Marks’ church Sunday morning.”
“Dr. Marks?” Keller asked. “The pastor the Tulsa police arrested?”
“Uh-huh,” George answered. “He wants me to talk to his adult Sunday School class about the case.”
“Sounds like fun,” Keller scoffed.
“Oklahoma,” Morris said, not looking up from the case file he was signing for the last time. “Land of steers, queers and long-neck beers.”
“Not to mention some pretty damn good murder investigators,” Keller countered. “Texas sure as hell didn’t contribute to solving our case.”
“Hell Keller, Texas is the only thing that keeps Oklahoma from falling off the damn map,” Morris said. “Squeezed in there between Texas, Kansas, and Arkansas, it’s like a boil on a buffalo’s ass just waitin’ to be popped.”
“Are you going to tell your folks?” Keller asked George.
“Tell’em what?” Morris cut in. “Tell’em how he come in here like a bombin’ run of the Tuskegee Airmen and took over my case, then run my ass all over the country tryin’ to catch that crazy son-of-a-bitch preacher?”
George just shook his head. Here we go again. “Well sir, just for your information, the 332nd Fighter Group, better known as the Tuskegee Airmen, wasn’t a bombing squadron. They were a fighter squadron of black pilots flying North American P-51 Mustangs that escorted B-25 bombers over Germany during World War-2. They flew over fifteen-hundred escort missions and only lost twenty-five bombers to enemy aircraft, saving thousands of American bomber crews from being shot down.”
“Do tell?”
“Yes sir. And if truth be told, there weren’t a lot of black people in those bombers. Just good old redneck white boys whose asses were in a sling.”
Morris pushed away from his desk and laid the file he was working on aside.
Crap. Now I’ve done it. The time has come that someone is going to get his ass kicked.
“Gettin’ pretty damn cocky there, ain’t ya rook?”
“No sir, I…”
“Fergit it, kid,” Morris interrupted. He stood and crossed the room to the table where George and Keller were packing case files into a cardboard storage container. To George’s surprise, Morris extended his right hand. He looked at Keller who nodded for George to accept Morris’ offer of friendship.
“Truth is, kid, you did a hell of a job on this case.”
George started to reply but Morris waved him off.
“Now don’t get me wrong, boy, I ain’t offerin’ to adopt you or nothin’. I just want you to know that I’m happy you joined our little team.”
“So this means you want me to stay? Not go back to fraud?”
“Fraud? Hell no, you ain’t goin’ back to fraud. That’s for geeks and pencil necks,” Morris answered. “Besides, we need some color in this office. Too many damn crackers and corn-cobbers ‘round here.” He looked at Keller and winked.
“I don’t know,” George said. “If all I want to do is fetch coffee and donuts for other agents, I can think of easier places to work than here.”
“Coffee and donuts?” Morris replied. “Hell son, you’ll be doin’ more than fetchin’ coffee and donuts.”
“Sir I…”
“You’ll be part of an important team of investigators who will solve crimes and save lives,” Morris continued. He extended his hand to George again. “Equal partners.”
George shook Morris’ hand and exchanged glances with Keller. “So this means you’re going to stop the racial remarks, sir?”
“Hell no,” Morris answered. “This ain’t no invitation for you to date my daughter, rookie, or for you to start playin’ rap music and break dancin’ here in the office. It’s an offer for you make somethin’ of yourself and to serve the bureau where you can be the most useful. Nothin’ more.”
“You never did answer my question,” Keller said to George. “Are you going to tell your folks?”
“Tell’em what?” Morris asked. “Don’t you think they know he’s comin’ home?”
Keller laid her hand on George’s arm. “Our boy here is going to be a daddy.” She smiled at George then back at Morris. “You’re going to be an uncle.”
“Oh my God!” Morris exclaimed. “That’s all we need—a little nappy-headed Chicken George runnin’ around this damn office!”
One of these days I really am going to kick his wrinkled old white ass. Right out into the damn street!
* * *
Simon, Cheri, Abigail, and Robbie Preston sat holding hands at their Thanksgiving dinner table. An empty chair marked a sad spot at the end of the table, a seat usually occupied this time of year by the patriarch of their family, Samuel Preston.
It had been a month since Preach Preston’s funeral and there were still deep wounds this family would need healed before they’d ever be normal again. The revelation that their beloved father and grandfather had been a serial killer still haunted Simon’s dreams. He knew what it meant to be a dedicated minister. To doubt the man who had been such an example to him disturbed him deeply. All he’d known his whole life was a father devoted to God and to prayer and to serving the people entrusted to him by heaven. Now to think
that his father had gone astray in his calling cut deep into Simon’s spirit.
Preach Preston’s funeral had been a simple yet tasteful event. The All Faith Worship Center was filled to capacity with hundreds of ministers and their families who had known Preach through the years. The forgiving spirit of so many people overwhelmed Simon and Cheri, knowing that the family of God did not hold them to blame for Preach’s actions. Everyone expressed their love and admiration for the man who had spent his whole life serving God. They refused to hold the last six months of his life against him. Only eternity would judge his soul.
Of course, there were others who attended the funeral out of morbid self-righteous curiosity to see the body of a man killed by the FBI during an act of unforgiveable torture of his own grandson. But these people didn’t know the real Preach Preston and would never understand the mission he’d believed God had called him to fulfill—the very kinds of people and attitudes Preach had been trying to eradicate from the church of the living God.
“Before we have our dinner,” Simon Preston began, “why don’t we each take a moment and say what we’re thankful for?” He looked around the table at his wife and children, knowing full well the internal feelings and battles each one was fighting.
“I’ll start,” he said. It was his place as head of the family now to lead his home in the path of hope, not forgetting, but not dwelling, on things past.
“I’m thankful for a good home and for healthy kids,” he said. “And I’m thankful for a wife who loves me. Mostly, I’m thankful for a God who loves and understands me, and who knows and understands all things from the beginning to the end of time.”
A tear coursed down Cheri’s cheek. “I’m also thankful for our wonderful family—for Abigail and Robbie, and for all the love you bring into this house.”
“I’m thankful for Grandpa,” Abby said before her mother could finish her offering of thanks. Simon and Cheri looked at Abby and saw tears well up in her eyes.
“I know what he did was wrong and I don’t really understand why he did the things he did. But I’m still thankful for him. I think maybe he was sick or something and didn’t really mean to hurt those people. I just know he loved us and only wanted what was best for us.”
Tears spilled out of Abigail’s eyes but she didn’t turn loose of her mother and father’s hands to wipe them away. “I still love him and I’m thankful he was my grandpa.”
“Me too,” Robbie said. “He was the best grandpa ever. I don’t think he was going to hurt me that day. Besides, he told me that I would be with Jesus.”
Robbie looked at his dad. “Is Grandpa with Jesus now, Daddy?”
Simon Preston squeezed the hands of his children. Tears fell from his eyes and stained his tie. “Yes son,” he answered. “Grandpa is with Jesus now.”
Read the newest Keller & Morris thriller on January 2nd. A Killer in Time: Kindle - Nook - Kobo
Books by Jim Laughter
Keller & Morris thrillers
The Apostle Murders
Kindle - Nook - Kobo
A Killer in Time
Kindle - Nook - Kobo
Other novels
From Victim to Hero:
The Untold Story of Steven Stayner
(True story of the Steven Stayner kidnapping)
Kindle - Nook
Polar City Red
(Climate fiction)
Kindle
Books of the Galactic Axia
(YA Science Fiction)
Adventure Series
1. Escape to Destiny
Kindle
2. The Horicon Experience
Kindle
3. Space Trader
Kindle
4. First Contact
Kindle
Ghost Series
1. Ghost in the Dark
Kindle
2. The Blue Ghost
Coming soon
Table of Contents
What they’re saying about The Apostle Murders
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Seven
Epilogue
Books by Jim Laughter
