by Jada Ryker
He snorted. “I doubt that, Marisa.”
“You’re thinking I am blaming my mother, when actually Mosely has the power over his own life. I went to college full-time and worked full-time. Mosely could have done that. It’s as if Mom and my brother have some sort of dysfunctional relationship, in which each one gets something they need from the other.” Marisa met Alex’s shuttered gaze. “And the irony? My brother is now a mirror image of my father, with the drinking, the laziness, and the destructive relationships with women. It’s come full circle.”
Alex looked away. “I can see why you struggle in your interactions with your brother.”
“When Althea invited me to spend time at her house after school and on weekends, she extended the same invitations to my brothers. Even though I tried to get Mosely and my other brothers to go with me, I was the only one to take her up on it.”
“That sounds like Althea. Even though she couldn’t make the bullying stop at school, she opened her home to you as a safe haven.”
The bus took a corner sharply, throwing Marisa and Alex against the window. With an apology, he pulled himself off her and met her eyes very directly. “Marisa. Are you very hurt by Russell’s, I mean Parvis’, deception?”
Marisa blinked at the change of subject. She told herself she was not blinking away tears. “He’s hurt a lot of people, not just me, with his deceptions and his so-called ‘investigative’ reporting.”
The tall buildings, sidewalks, and pedestrians passed by the window in a slow motion panorama.
“I saw you in the kitchen.”
Marisa jerked her head away from the window. “What?”
“While I was escaping Verna, I saw you and Parvis kissing through the kitchen window.” The blue eyes holding hers were filled with compassion and something else Marisa couldn’t identify.
“I suffered a brief lapse in judgment. It doesn’t mean anything.” Marisa turned her head to stare out the window.
Fred braked, bringing the bus to a smooth stop in front of the senior citizens’ center. The other passengers stood up, and slowly filed past their seat. Fred met Marisa’s eyes in the mirror. “End of the line, Marisa!”
Marisa forced herself to smile. “Thanks, Fred.”
“Marisa…we still have a murder to solve.”
“Yes, Alex. Fred said he’d drop you off. Tara will be here any moment with my car, its tire fixed. I will meet you at Mr. Worthington’s house. We will see what the head of the Church of the Eternal Devotion has to say about the murders.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Her heart heavy in her chest as she slowly pulled herself up the steps to her dead daughter’s apartment, Renee Walker felt sick. Old and sick. All she’d ever wanted was to be safe and secure, petted and pampered. She wanted to be a wife and a mother, with a pretty house and a nice car and beautiful clothes. For awhile, she’d thought she was living her dream. Zoe was a gorgeous child with her huge brown eyes and long dark hair. Her handsome husband Harlan had held the respected position of school principal.
And then…
Her mind skittered toward the nights Harlan had disappeared from their room. She’d thought he was downstairs, watching television.
One night, she’d gotten up. Her acid reflux was burning in her chest, and she needed to find her antacids. Sleepily pulling on her robe, she’d walked silently down the hall. Outside Zoe’s room, Renee had paused. The sounds within…was Zoe having a nightmare? She’d carefully opened the door. And she’d seen…
Renee had squeezed her eyes shut, but she couldn’t erase the image burned in her brain of Harlan and Zoe.
In a daze, Renee had returned to her bedroom and fallen into bed.
As she lay stiffly in the double bed, she had imagined a fork in the road in front of her. Along one path, she’d march back to that room and stop…what was happening. And then, call the police. Her husband in jail. His dark perversion blazing on the front page of the newspaper. Her comfortable lifestyle gone. Looks of pity from her friends. And the other path…Renee had sniffed, and rolled up tighter in her blankets. She had thought, it was just a nightmare. I didn’t really see anything. She’d determinedly willed herself to sleep.
Life had gone on in her household. And then … Zoe had told her grandmother.
Renee had tried to tell her mother Zoe was mistaken. Her blue eyes blazing, Esther had told her if she did not protect her daughter, then Esther would.
And shortly afterward, Harlan was dead.
Renee’s breath hitched on a sob. And then the incidents with Harlan and the other children had come out.
“I’m so sorry, Zoe,” Renee whispered. “If only I had chosen the other path.”
Tears filled her eyes as she staggered out of the stairwell and into the hallway. Renee nearly swooned when she saw a dark figure outside Jonah’s doorway, just doors from Zoe’s apartment. She opened her mouth to scream, and nearly sagged in relief as she recognized the blue uniform and cap. A muscular policeman was bending over the door knob, holding a dark duffel bag.
Renee leaned against the wall and closed her eyes. By the time she regained control of herself in the dimly illuminated hall, it was deserted. She wondered if the policeman had news regarding her daughter’s death. Renee walked to the door and tried to turn the knob of Jonah’s apartment. It turned noiselessly under her shaking hand.
When she entered the quiet living room, Mrs. Walker was vaguely surprised only a small lamp was on. Beyond the tiny circle of light, with the blinds and curtains tightly closed, darkness shrouded the apartment.
Renee stood still, listening intently. There was a faint rustling sound from the direction of the kitchen. Pushing down the minor stirrings of disquiet, she picked her way through the living room furniture to the kitchen.
A sharp, familiar odor assailed her nostrils. In the shadows, the policeman had his back to her, holding a container. She could hear the liquid running out of it, onto the floor. “What are you doing?” she cried.
The figure jerked up and spun around to face her, splashing her designer dress with liquid from the plastic orange container in his hands.
Automatically, Renee rubbed at the wetness on her dress. “Gasoline?” She was bewildered. “What are you doing with gasoline?”
The hat pulled low over the face, the menacing figure placed the container on the floor, and slowly advanced toward her.
“What are you doing?” Renee’s voice was rising in panic. “Get away from me!” She backed into the wall, and screamed.
As the deadly figure reached for her with outstretched, claw-like hands, Renee fainted. As she lost consciousness, she thought she saw Zoe’s face, her large brown eyes accusing and unforgiving.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Grabbing his cane, Henry Worthington stalked around his desk, its cherry surface littered with papers, to face Alex and Marisa. In spite of his experience with the bear trap, he limped only slightly. “Ms. Adair, that’s insane. If I killed every member of my flock who wasn’t perfect or who strayed, then I’d be left with a congregation of zero.”
Something in the man’s voice tugged at Marisa’s memory. She shook off the feeling of familiarity. “You have a church the size of a small city, and your coffers are filled with donations. What if Zoe was blackmailing you? You’d face the loss of your mega church.”
“Um, Marisa.” Alex pulled at her arm.
Annoyed, Marisa turned to him. “What?”
“If Mr. Worthington killed Zoe, and then got his leg caught in the animal trap, how did he get to the hospital to kill Jonah?”
Marisa clenched her teeth. “He obviously has a partner who took care of Jonah.”
Henry held up one hand, his face white with pain or fear. “I didn’t kill Zoe. She was a troubled young woman. I tried to help her. What would she blackmail me about?”
Marisa advanced across the expensive oriental carpet until her nose was nearly touching his. “You’re embezzling from the church, and Jonah found out about
it. The last thing he did on his computer was a search of ministers who’d embezzled from churches. You must have done it before, gotten caught, and then decided to pull a bigger scam on a grander scale.”
“I didn’t kill anyone and I’ve never stolen from any church.” Henry’s blue eyes were clear and direct.
The door swung open, and Flora May Masters bustled into the room with a large basket, covered with a towel. “I fried you up a chicken, Henry, and whipped up some mashed potatoes and gravy. You’re lucky the hospital food didn’t kill you—” She broke off her tirade as she realized Henry was not alone.
“We’re just leaving,” Alex said firmly as he steered Marisa toward the door.
Marisa managed to twist around. “Flora May! Great to see you! I am Mrs. Flaxton’s friend.”
Flora May stopped, the basket on her arm. “Miss Adair? What are you doing here?”
“Wow, that chicken smells great! We love chicken, don’t we, Alex?” Marisa gritted as he dragged her toward the door.
Henry was outraged. “You have the utter gall to accuse me of murder and then try to cadge some of my homemade chicken?”
Outside, Marisa turned on Alex. “Why do you have to be such a pain in the ass?” When her cell phone rang, Alex turned away with a sigh of relief.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“Whoever heard of an emergency meeting of a support group?” Marisa grumped as she locked her car in the Baptist church graveled parking lot. She shivered. The church looked ominous in the darkness, with the full moon overhead. Deep shadows ran from the church onto the grounds, and shaded the grass around the towering trees. After the call on her cell, Alex had tried to talk her out of going off on her own. He had tried to convince her to take him with her. Now, she wished she’d listened to him.
Marisa shook off her unease, and quickly opened the side door leading to the basement. The hall was dimly lit by widely spaced overhead bulbs. As Marisa passed by the closed doors, many decorated with children’s drawings, she wondered if she was the last to arrive. As she opened the meeting room door, she was surprised to see it lit only by candles. As she reached for the light switch, an authoritative voice stopped her. “Don’t turn on the light!”
Marisa peered into the shadows cast by the candle light. The chairs in the circle were occupied by darker shadows. She located a vacant one, and slid into it. She looked into the face of her neighbor. The shadowy scarf told her it was Dustin. “Why are we sitting in the dark?”
“We are here to confront Parvis Stidham.”
Marisa gasped. In the chair in the center of the circle, a man was wiggling and making a muffled noise. She rose, shaking off Dustin’s hand. “Parvis?”
“Muuummhhh!”
Marisa ran her hands over him. His wrists were taped together, and his ankles were bound to the chair with wide strips of tape. She started to pull at the tape.
Dustin gently took her hands. “Sit down, Marisa. Our stories do need to be told, but not the way he went about it. We want to help the young man understand what he’s done to us with his writing. If we don’t at least try to help him see the ramifications of his writing, we’re moral cowards. We’re not going to hurt him, I give you my word.”
Marisa noticed he limped slightly as he led her back to her chair. When he nudged her back into her chair, she didn’t resist. The voice. The limp. The scarf. Dustin was Henry!
“Sierra, would you like to begin?”
With tears streaming down her cheeks, Sierra told the group about meeting Parvis in a club. She’d inadvertently mentioned the group. She’d explained she was sworn to secrecy, and couldn’t tell him anything more. He’d flirted with her and complimented her. He’d proceeded to buy her drink after drink, and she’d told him all about the group.
“I know I didn’t have to drink them, but I did. I’m sorry I told him about it. I asked him at the end of the night if he’d keep it a secret, and he promised he would. He broke his promise.” In the near darkness, she covered her face with her hands and sobbed.
As each of the members took their turn in telling Parvis how his article had affected their lives, he stopped squirming. Marisa wondered if he was listening, or simply had given up trying to escape.
Marisa took the floor and told the group of his masquerade. “He used his alter ego to get close to me, so he could gather information on recent murders for his website. He tricked me and everyone around him.” Shaking with anger and pain, Marisa stood over Parvis. “You’re a poor excuse for a human being, Parvis Stidham. You exploit people’s pain. You write about it, suck profit from it like a parasite, but you don’t have the compassion to feel anything but triumph and greed.”
With a crash, the huge window to the right of the circle shattered and a long shape fell to the floor. The candles on that side of the room extinguished, leaving only the glow of the remaining candles in the opposite corner.
Labored breathing filled the room. “Don’t move,” gasped the lump on the floor. “I’ve got you covered!”
“With what? A broken rib?”
William’s voice sent shivers down Marisa’s spine. In the dark, she hadn’t realized he was there.
Next to her, Fred rose from his seat. “Don’t move, young man. We’ll call you an ambulance.”
The lump wriggled. As it rose up in the near darkness, it moaned. “No! Let Marisa go! I’m here to rescue her!”
Marisa jerked. “Alex?”
Welton’s low chuckle filled the surprised silence. “In all my born days, I ain’t never seen a cavalry ride to the rescue on a dang rappellin’ rope.”
“Alex, if you’ve broken your fool neck on my account, I’ll kill you.” Marisa rushed to the squirming dark body.
To the accompaniment of tinkling shards of glass, Marisa helped Alex to his feet.
“Oh, how exciting!” Sierra was thrilled. “You swoop in here like a chivalrous superhero to save the day!” In the dim glow of the candles, her smooth caramel face was enraptured and her liquid chocolate eyes were fixed on Alex.
For a reason she couldn’t identify, Marisa steered Alex away from the wide-eyed Sierra. Staggering under his weight, she helped him to her empty seat.
Alex raised his head and stared at the chair in the center. “What the hell? Is someone taped to that chair?”
Squirming against the bonds, the figure in the chair said, “Mmmph mumph MUMPH!”
Marisa wondered if it was, “Please help me!” or “It’s me, Parvis!” or even “This is fun!” Marisa shook her head. Probably not the latter.
“Alex, stop being ridiculous. I think you must have hit your head when you fell. What were you thinking, swinging around and crashing into things? You could have gotten yourself killed!”
Alex was stung. “Marisa, you wouldn’t tell me anything about that phone call. I followed you because I had a feeling you were in danger. There were cars parked outside, but no lights inside. I go rappelling on the weekends, and I had my ropes and hooks in the car. It was the only way I could get inside. It’s a good thing I did. I don’t know what’s going on here, but it’s obviously not good.”
“This is my support group!”
“What, something related to sadism and masochism? Dominance and bondage?” Alex shook his head, slinging glass particles. He unsteadily gained his feet, and turned to the wriggling mass.
“Stop, Alex, that’s Parvis Stidham. The group…brought him here…”
Alex stopped. “Huh. I can see using a bound Stidham as some sort of aversion therapy—I know he’s giving me the willies—”
“MMUMPH!”
Parvis really sounds mad under that gag, Marisa thought.
The disguised Henry stepped forward. “Stop! Stidham deliberately used charm and guile to get information about us from a vulnerable young woman. He wrote a damning article about us. He gave clues to our identities easy enough for a child to solve. We brought him here to help him understand the pain he has caused us and others. We—”
Flashing
blue lights strobed around the room. “Oh, no! There are police cars outside!” Fred’s voice was full of agony.
“We have to stop them before they see this room with the broken glass. We’ll have to hope it’s too dark for them to see the dangling rope.” Marisa quickly pulled the tape from Parvis’ wrists and ankles. “If you try to tell them you were held against your will, we’ll all contradict you. It’s our word against yours!” She ripped the tape from his mouth.
Parvis stood up, rubbing his wrists and his chest heaving. “And you think your methods will teach me a lesson—”
“Shut up. You’re lucky we didn’t hurt you when we had the chance.” She turned to the group. “We’ll innocently file out the side door, as we would after any meeting. We’ll have to wait for the police to leave, then come back in and clean up the glass. Alex will have to retrieve his rope.”
Outside, a large figure loomed up in the dark parking lot. “What is going on here?”
Fred nimbly skipped toward the officer, The Library bobbing at his heels. “This is a closed meeting of our support group. We pay rent to the church to be able to meet here in private. What’s the problem?”
“We got a report of a man dangling from the bell tower of the church.” The officer surveyed the throng of innocent faces. “It must have been a hoax. Carry on.”
* * * * *
As she burrowed deeper under the covers of her comfortable bed, Marisa heaved a long, deep sigh. The mess was cleaned up at the church. They’d taped cardboard over the broken window, and left a contrite note for the pastor. Alex, still grouchy over his unnecessary and painful rescue attempt, was bedded down on the pull-out sofa bed in her office.
When the doorbell rang, Marisa bolted upright in her bed. Her arm swung for the lamp, inadvertently sending it crashing to the floor.
Alex, dressed in a t-shirt and shorts, hurtled through the doorway of her room.
“Alex!” Marisa shivered. In the dim moonlight, he looked like a wild animal, ready to spring. “I knocked over the lamp! Someone’s at the door!”