CONTENTS
Title Page
Other Cole Sage Mysteries
Please Consider This
Epigraph
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Please Consider This
About the Author
Also by Micheal Maxwell
Copyright Page
OTHER COLE SAGE MYSTERIES
Diamonds and Cole (Cole Sage Mystery #1)
Cellar of Cole (Cole Sage Mystery #2)
Helix of Cole (Cole Sage Mystery #3)
Cole Dust (Cole Sage Mystery #4)
Cole Shoot (Cole Sage Mystery #5)
Cole Fire (Cole Sage Mystery #6)
Heart of Cole (Cole Sage Mystery #7)
Cole Mine (Cole Sage Mystery #8)
Soul of Cole (Cole Sage Mystery #9)
PLEASE CONSIDER THIS
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Each of us is a book waiting to be written, and that book, if written, results in a person explained.
—Thomas M. Cirignano
CHAPTER 1
“What is the hold up?”
“I’m putting on my shoes!” He wasn’t, he was reading the news on his computer. Russ Walker wanted to be sure he was up on all the latest before his morning debate session.
“For fifteen minutes?” Sharon was now standing in the archway outside Russ’ office. “Get off the computer!”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake. They’re not going anywhere.”
“Nine o’clock means nine o’clock. Not nine-fifteen or nine-thirty.” Sharon stood hands on hips, head cocked to the left and a scowl that would make babies cry. “Let’s go already.”
Russ stood, yanked at the back of his running shorts through his warm-up pants. He felt like an idiot. Running shorts? He hadn’t run more than ten paces in the last twenty years, and that was when a rattler was is the back yard flower bed. The outfit Sharon bought him for his sixty-fifth birthday was an embarrassment and the butt of endless jokes from his buddies.
“Let’s get this done.” Russ grumbled as he closed the front door.
“You’ll thank me someday for getting you up off your duff and out for some exercise. ’Sides, I think you’re just teasing. Once we get going, and you and Warren get arguing about whatever it is you two argue about, you don’t even know you’re walking.”
“We don’t argue, we have meaningful, spirited, discussions.” Russ went down the steps and off they went.
“OK, as long as you are enjoying yourself, that’s all that matters.”
“Be more fun over a cup of coffee and a cinnamon roll.” Russ finally laughed. It was a daily ritual that eventually showed that all his bluster was just an act.
Sharon gave him a swat on the butt and picked up the pace.
Warren and Judy Poore lived two blocks from Sharon and Russ. The two couples met over forty years ago and they have been friends ever since. The Poore’s came to Orvin as young marrieds. Warren was the assistant pastor at the Calvary Methodist Church where Russ and Sharon attended.
Sharon and Judy were pregnant together. Their kids grew up together. Brownies, Cub Scouts, ballet, swimming, dance, t-ball, little league, softball, soccer, Pop Warner football, piano, practices and recitals, Judy and Sharon were there. Rain or shine they carpooled through activities and ten years of school. The Poore and Walker kids were often confused for each other, the wrong boys matched with the wrong sister. It was like one large cooperative family. That is until they reached Jr. High, then hormones, cooties, and peer pressure drove a wedge between the kids, and that was that.
The men bonded over their love of music. They traded recordings of their favorites, some of which, without a doubt, the members of Calvary Methodist would have raised their collective eyebrows at. They started with cassettes, moved to mini-discs (short lived), then to CDs. With the purchase of their first computers they entered the digital world. They learned to burn CDs, then DVDs. The ocean of music available to them on MP3s they found on the World Wide Web was a King Solomon’s Mine to the Musicaholics. Now they pass flash drives in the foyer of the church, red for Warren and black for Russ. Like an info drop between spies they were sly and silent, transferring their stash of new tracks with a quick handshake.
As Sharon and Russ made their way the last few yards to the Poore’s, Russ couldn’t help but admire the beauty of the morning. “Makes you glad to be alive!”
“Now there is a change of spirits!” Sharon grinned. All it took was to get Russ outside in the fresh air and he was a new man. She knew how much he hated exercise, but she was bound and determined to get him up and moving.
The Poore’s house was like a photo from House Beautiful; the all-American white picket fence, manicured lawn, gigantic front porch with a swing on each end; Truly a dream home. Judy had a knack for decorating that Sharon could only dream of.
Sharon went up to the door first. After forty years, the formality of knocking was neither observed nor expected.
“Good Mornin’!” Sharon called out as she went through the front door. The house seemed unusually quiet. She moved to the bottom of the stairs and called up, “Let’s get a move on, you two!”
“And you were rushing me!” Russ teased.
The faint sound of a radio announcer came from the kitchen/family room end of the house. Sharon turned and gave Russ what he would later recall as a concerned look. He moved toward the kitchen.
“Hey, are you guys here?” Sharon called, with a bit less enthusiasm than before.
As Russ entered the kitchen he noticed that the usual mess of breakfast dishes and coffee cups was nowhere to be seen. Walking past the snack bar, the first thing he saw was the family room wall and a three foot splattering of blood, tissue and what appeared to be hair. Russ’ eyes seemed locked on the circle. He was unable to process the nova of crimson that was spread across family photos and the God Bless Our Home stitchery.
“Russ? Whatcha doin’ in there?” She peered across the kitchen, and out a back window to see if their friends had stepped outside.
Sharon’s voice thawed Russ’ frozen muscles. His eyes slowly moved down, fully aware of the carnage he would find.
Slumped on the sofa Warren Poore sat, head leaning in an odd, unnatural, position. A clotted, dangling, drip of blood hung from his bottom lip. The top of his head was an open mass of red and pink tissue. Warren’s white Sooners t-shirt was a solid red from neck to waist.
“Russ!” Sharon was getting closer.
“Go home!” Russ shouted.
“What?”
“Leave, get out! Go home, call 911!”
Her voice was drawing ever closer.
“Damn you woman, do as you’re told!” Russ screamed.
In all their years of marriage, Russ Walker never swore at his wife. He seldom, if ever, raised his voice. The combination of the two sent a wave of shock and nausea though Sharon. Not understanding or knowing the cause of the outburst she turned and ran all the way home. With each step her tears grew. Her mind was grabbing at every memory, replaying every moment in the house, and every synapse searching for what just happened.
The reality of what h
e found began to sink in and Russ shifted his gaze from his friend’s lifeless body and around the room. On the floor near the end of the sofa Judy was slouched, her head resting against a cushion. Her mouth was wide open. She stared with dead eyes at the ceiling. A large hole was surrounded by blood on the front of her white Cancun sweatshirt.
There was no blood behind Judy. Russ let his eyes slowly move from her head to her feet. She wasn’t wearing shoes. Her bare feet were a strange hue of purplish blue. At her feet was a trail of blood. Russ followed the blood as its path led into the kitchen. There were several partial foot prints from where he stepped in her blood. On the back side of the snack bar was a large pool of cordovan liquid, an ever narrowing, ever thinning trail of her blood leading to where she leaned.
Russ felt his neck with two fingers. As the space in front of him began to twinkle and shift to black and white he realized he wasn’t breathing. His heart was rapidly beating out the pounding in his head. He took a deep breath and held it. The vein on the side of his neck was thumping hard against his fingers. His heart was pounding.
Far away and in another world the sound of sirens pulsed. As they grew ever louder Russ felt his hands tingle and his legs began to quiver and shake. He backed up from where he stood and collapsed in a thick leather recliner. Across the room the circle of Warren’s life matter was in Russ’ direct line of vision. He closed his eyes.
With his eyes closed his memory took over and he saw an image of Warren and Judy sitting on the couch with brightly colored packages on their laps and surrounding them on the sofa. In his mind he heard the laughter of a hundred gatherings. He heard Happy Birthday being sung accompanied with visions of Warren, Judy, Sharon, the children of both families at various ages, all surrounding the couch, all different seasons, all different years, all different ages.
Time was no longer a thing Russ was aware of so he couldn’t determine how long he was in the chair when he heard a loud, deep voice come from the front of the house.
“Police!”
“In here!” Russ’s voice broke with emotion.
Seconds later two police officers with guns drawn entered the room. From somewhere down the hall the booming voice of another officer yelled, “Clear.”
“Mister Walker?”
Russ did not respond.
“Are you okay sir? Mister Walker?”
“Russ felt his head nod and his voice say, “Yeah, I’m okay.”
“Let’s get you out of here, alright?”
Russ felt the strong hand of the officer take his arm and help him to his feet. Out on the street a siren slowly wound down. He heard doors slamming shut with metallic thuds.
“We have some folks who are going to check you over. You’ve had a pretty bad shock this morning. Can you do that for me?”
Russ nodded the affirmative.
As the officer half led, half carried Russ to the front door and the waiting paramedics his eyes landed on something that looked strangely out of place. Not that he hadn’t seen it before, and not that it wasn’t something normal for the Poore home, but on the counter by the sink was Warren’s open Bible.
“I wonder what he was reading,” His voice was lost in the crackling chatter of police radios.
“What’s that?”
Russ didn’t respond.
CHAPTER 2
“Good morning everybody!” Kelly approached the door of the Love, Laugh, and Learn Indian Children’s Center. “Nobody has a key?”
“No, Warren isn’t here yet.” One of the six people waiting at the door volunteered.
“Well that’s kind of weird.” Kelly scanned the group hoping for more information. “I have one. Let me open the door.”
Kelly unlocked the door and the group of four women and two men filed in. They spread out to their various work areas and began the morning tasks. Ray Chandler, the older of the two men, went to the back and turned on all the lights. It seemed strange to be in the building without Warren.
Maryann Kopek approached Kelly with a concerned look. “You think we should give him a call?”
“Yeah, it’s kind of weird that he just wouldn’t show up.” Kelly went into the office and Maryann followed. Just as she was about to dial the number, she heard a man’s voice coming from the front doors.
“Anybody home?”
Maryann stuck her head out of the office door, then turned and whispered, “Kelly, it’s a policeman.”
“Good morning officer, something we can help you with?” From the look on the officer’s face this was not a community service visit.
“Are you in charge, ma’am?”
“For today she is.” Maryann took a small step back.
“I guess so, I’m Kelly Sage.” She extended her hand to the ruddy faced officer.
“Is there a place we can talk privately?” The policeman shifted his hat from one hand to the other and back again.
“Is something wrong?” Kelly glanced at Maryann as uneasiness began to come over her.
“Better we didn’t talk out here.” He looked past Maryann into the large open room of the Center. “How many other folks are here?”
“About seven, counting us.” Maryann came a little closer.
“Okay.” The officer looked toward the office door.
“Let’s go in here,” Kelly suggested, re-entering the office.
“My name is Hawke.” Maryann looked at him suspiciously. “Short for Whitehawke.” He looked at Maryann and ran his hand through his jet black hair defiantly.
She smiled. “Thought so. I know your sister.”
“So, what’s this about?” Kelly braced herself for what must surely be bad news.
“You ladies might want to have a seat. I’m afraid I have some bad news.” Kelly and Maryann sat. Kelly’s heart raced knowing something must have happened to Warren Poore. “It seems, well, the thing is Pastor Poore and his wife were found dead this morning.” Officer Hawke found himself unable to take his eyes off the floor.
“Oh, my Lord.” Kelly threw her hand over her mouth feeling her heart skip a beat.
Maryann gasped. “What happened?”
“Well, it appears to be a murder/suicide. One of the fellows at the scene was familiar with your work here and thought somebody should come down and let you know, in case you want to lock up, or I don’t know. I’m really sorry ma’am. It’s a terrible thing to have to break to you.” The young officer was plainly out of his depth, as he stumbled for what he felt was the right thing to say.
Kelly stood and crossed her arms across her chest. “I can’t believe it. Why? We just, he was just, he worked here yesterday and was happy as could be.” She looked from Maryann to the policeman and back, completely stunned.
“I don’t know ma’am. The investigation will be ongoing. Is there anything I can do for you ladies?”
“Have their daughters been contacted?”
“I don’t know ma’am. I was told to come here and tell whoever was in charge.” As far as Officer Hawke was concerned his task was accomplished. He moved almost unnoticed toward the door.
Maryann sobbed and pleaded through her tears. “Will you tell the others, Kelly? I couldn’t possibly.”
“Yes, sweetie, I’ll take care of it. Thank you, Officer. Is there anything we need to do, should we lock up and go home, or…”
“Just a second, ma’am.” The young officer took his radio and spoke, “Lt. Bishop, Hawke here.”
“Go ahead,” the radio squawked.
“Sir, do the folks here need to lock up and leave?”
“I’m on my way there. Please keep anybody there out of the office.” Hawke’s eyes met Kelly’s and they led Maryann out of the room.
“Will do.”
“See you in a few minutes.” The voice on the other end of the radio was firm but with a hint of regard for the rookie policeman.
“Yes sir.” Officer Hawke stepped out into the entry, closing the office door behind him. “I guess you heard that.”
“Yes, I understand.” Kelly looked out to the great room. The staff of volunteers busily vacuumed, straightened, and prepared for the day as usual, completely unaware.
In an hour, a group of fifteen to twenty kindergarteners would come through the door, most accompanied by their mothers, some alone. As was the tradition of the people from the reservation, they all looked out for each other’s children. To hug, scold, help, and nurture was the duty and responsibility of all.
“Is she going to be okay?” Officer Hawke observed Maryann now facing the windows in the front of the building.
“I think so. This is such a shock. She lost her daughter not long ago. Her emotions are still pretty raw.” Kelly suddenly felt the need to reassure the young policeman that things were under control.
“Yes ma’am.” Officer Hawke bowed his head for a long moment. “Please keep everybody out of the office until Lt. Bishop gets here.”
“No problem.”
“I’ll be outside.” Hawke moved toward the door. “I’m sorry I had to bring you such bad news.”
“I imagine it’s never easy.” Kelly gave Hawke a reassuring smile.
“This was my first time.” Hawke turned and quickly exited the building.
Kelly went to the center of the play area and called out, “Everyone, everyone, can we all gather here for a minute?” From the various stations in the large open space the staff of the Center made their way to where Kelly stood.
“What’s going on?” Ray Chandler spoke first.
“Let’s wait till we’re all here.” Kelly breathed a prayer. As she watched the group of friends, and longtime members of Warren Poore’s congregation, Kelly felt a wave of emotion sweep over her. You can do this Kelly, she thought to herself.
Emma Connor was the last one to the circle. Kelly looked at the group and one by one made eye contact. “I’m afraid I have some terrible news. Before I say anything, can we just stop and have a word of prayer?” Several of the people answered in the affirmative. “Lord, please prepare our hearts for the sorrow that we all will share. I ask your guidance in helping me choose my words and I pray that we will all hold each other close. Amen.”
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