The Way of the Guilty

by Jennifer Stanley

  At that moment, there was a knock on Edward’s window and Cooper let out an involuntary cry of alarm. A face appeared on the other side of the glass. It was Rich Johnson.

  The undercover officer slipped into the backseat and popped a stick of gum into his mouth. He was as refreshed as Cooper was drained. “So what movie did you kids rent?” he questioned casually, as though it weren’t after midnight and they weren’t sitting in an idling car in the middle of a dark parking lot.

  “Nothing looked good,” Edward replied flatly, but Cooper’s heart was in her throat.

  Am I going to get arrested? she wondered and held her breath.

  “Nobody’s made a decent movie since Forrest Gump.” The policeman leaned forward and handed Cooper a business card. “In case you ever need to reach me.”

  He clapped Edward on the shoulder. “Colonel. I’ll spread the word about your cab service. I know some women who’d feel safer calling a stand-up taxi service late at night. I’m certain they’d be in good hands with you. Have a nice evening.”

  Cooper exhaled and dug her truck keys out of her purse. “That’s it? He’s just going to let us go?”

  “It’s how he works.” Edward gazed out into the starless sky. “And he hasn’t let us go. He’s going to show up again without us even knowing. I told you, he’s freaking Batman.” He sighed. “And now the Dark Knight has got his eye on you.”

  9

  “He was given authority, glory and sovereign power; all peoples, nations and men of every language worshiped him. His dominion is an everlasting dominion that will not pass away, and his kingdom is one that will never be destroyed.”

  Daniel 7:14 (NIV)

  During worship service the next morning, Cooper could barely keep her eyes open. She’d arrived late, missing the first set of praise songs, and tried to sneak in as the music leader paused to introduce a new band member.

  As Cooper peered around in search of a vacant seat, Jake stood up and waved her over to his row. The empty chair was situated between Jake and Quinton, but Quinton didn’t even glance in her direction. His eyes were fixed upon the plus-sized woman onstage as she smiled at the congregation and accepted the microphone from the lead singer.

  “Thank you so much for welcoming me to Hope Street. My goal is to integrate a few Spanish hymns into our eleven o’clock service so that our Spanish-speaking friends feel at home.” She indicated a cluster of dark-haired worshippers seated in the first ten rows. “So let’s start with one that you all know. ‘How Great Is Our God,’ which translates to ‘Cuan Grande es Mi Dios.’ Please stand and sing with me!”

  Jake had to elbow Quinton in the side in order to bring the big man back to reality.

  “She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen!” Quinton breathed in awe as he rose to his feet.

  Cooper studied the woman. She had a large bosom and a full, high rump encased in a chestnut-colored skirt suit. When she turned to the side, moving forward with small, dainty steps, Cooper thought she bore a close resemblance to a hen. Her hair was full-bodied and glossy. It flew out around her face in rows of brown corkscrew curls. The most remarkable thing about her was the joy that seemed to fill her body and burst forth from her throat as she sang. Her dimpled cheeks and radiant smile were infectious and her voice rolled over the congregation like a river of milk and honey.

  “You’re right. She’s beautiful,” Cooper agreed and couldn’t help but smile. The woman’s rapture was contagious and the congregation sang the unfamiliar Spanish words with delight, grinning up at their music leader.

  When the song finished and the congregation resumed their seats, Quinton followed the woman’s every move as she walked off the stage. “She teaches Spanish in Church Hill,” he informed his neighbors. “She even bought a house on one of the most rundown streets so she could truly be active in the community.”

  “What’s her name?” Cooper asked.

  “Gloria May.” Quinton spoke the name with relish, as though each letter melted on his tongue like a piece of fine chocolate. “Sounds like poetry, doesn’t it?”

  Cooper waited to respond until Pastor Matthews finished his opening prayer and began reviewing the morning’s announcements. “How did you know she was a teacher?”

  Quinton pointed at the back of the program. “Her bio’s listed here. No mention of a husband, either,” he added brightly and then finally tore his gaze away from the back of Gloria’s head and looked at Cooper. “Did you have a rough night?”

  “Yes, and I didn’t have time to put cucumbers on my eyes, so you’re stuck sitting next to a zombie.” She yawned widely. “Not that I have any cucumbers.”

  “Did you stay up ’til midnight painting with Nathan?” Quinton nudged her playfully in the side.

  Cooper dropped her eyes. She’d barely thought about Nathan until she heard his voice on her answering machine earlier that morning. “No, I was doing something much more interesting.” She yawned again. “Tell you about it later. And Nathan won’t be joining us for Bible study. He decided to spend the whole weekend with his friend.”

  Both Jake and Quinton yawned shortly afterward. “Stop that!” Jake hissed. “Don’t you know yawns are contagious? The whole row’ll be doin’ it in a minute. ’Cept for Savannah.”

  “You can make people react just by saying the word,” Quinton informed Jake. All three friends leaned over to watch Savannah as Jake described how tired Cooper looked and mentioned that she’d been yawning over and over again since her arrival. Sure enough, Savannah’s hand rose up to cover her mouth as it stretched into an elongated oval.

  “Where’s Bryant?” Cooper inquired as she stifled a giggle.

  “On the far side by the door.” Quinton subtly pointed in that direction. “He brought his coworker—that single mom he’s mentioned a few times. I think they’re officially dating now.”

  Cooper clapped silently. “I remember him talking about her in the fall. Her name’s Jane, right? She’s in her thirties and has two children. Quite a difference from that grad student he was dating before. Maybe Bryant’s growing up.”

  At that moment, the band returned to the stage to lead the congregation in the offering hymn and Quinton’s focus was again entirely on Gloria. He sang without taking his eyes from her face, as though willing her to see only him. At one point, Cooper was certain their gazes met and Gloria’s sunny smile shone a fraction brighter.

  The four friends paid careful attention to the sermon, which was titled “Nothing Is Impossible for God.” Twenty-five minutes later, Pastor Matthews issued a benediction and the service was over, but Cooper longed to remain, to hold fast to the feeling that her prayers could be answered if she only had enough faith. To walk outside meant rejoining a world filled with uncertainty. Cooper wanted to carry the sermon’s theme inside her where she could use it like a weapon against whoever had hurt Miguel Ramos.

  Trish had insisted on having lunch prepared for them since they were meeting at her house for the second Sunday. Once again, she’d sent her husband and children on an excursion, but when she described the outing they’d planned, her voice was stronger and more energized than it had been the week before.

  Over a salad of mixed greens with cranberries and goat cheese, and sandwiches made with grilled chicken, red roasted peppers, and a cilantro mayonnaise (courtesy of a local café that catered), Trish explained the changes she’d experienced since the group had seen her last.

  “The homework reading for this week couldn’t have been timelier,” she began. “The second book of Corinthians begins by describing the God of All Comfort. After I was done with Thursday’s chemo treatment, I went to a Breast Cancer Support Group meeting. One of the women told how she’d recently written letters to her husband and her three sons. She called them ‘just in case’ letters and read one aloud to us.”

  Savannah knit her hands together. “Oh, my goodness. There couldn’t have been a dry eye in the room.”

  Trish shook her head. “No, there wasn’t
, but the loudest sobs came from me. I never cry! And I didn’t even realize I was until the woman stopped reading, got up, and put her arms around me.” Trish picked up her Bible. “When Paul refers to the pressure he and the other Christians were under in Asia, he says, ‘Indeed, in our hearts we felt the sentence of death. But this happened that we might not rely on ourselves but on God, who raises the dead.’ ” She tapped on the page. “After reading that, I realized I’ve been praying all wrong.”

  “What do you mean?” Jake asked.

  “I’ve been asking God to deliver me from this cancer, when what I should be doing is trusting in Him and praying to enjoy my life in the present. Right after I adjusted my prayers, I looked around and saw my husband and my girls so clearly. I knew that I’d been given such riches in them, yet I couldn’t remember the last time I’d told them how precious they are to me.”

  Bryant nodded. “Our study reminds us to be aware of the gifts we’ve already received. Paul also says that no matter what we ask, the answer, given through Christ, is ‘yes.’ I love that!” He smirked. “Pray big, right? I wouldn’t mind taking Al Roker’s spot on The Today Show.”

  Everyone laughed.

  Quinton held out Hope Street’s worship program and pointed at Gloria’s name. “I’m going to be praying to meet her.”

  Savannah turned toward Jake. “Let’s move on to the next homework question. Trish already touched on the first point, but what about the author’s discussion on scent? Why do we smell like death to non-believers while giving off the sweet perfume of life among ourselves?”

  “I don’t think there’s a soul on this earth who’d describe a plumber as sweet-smellin’!” Jake stated with a grin and then consulted his workbook. “I guess I do some things that make my scent kinda rotten. Paul would tell me that if I could forgive my dad for leaving us when I was a kid, I’d smell sweet to the Lord above. I keep tryin’, but I’m not there yet.” He shrugged. “Reckon I’m gonna be smellin’ like a regular workin’ man for a bit longer.”

  Smiling indulgently, Savannah said, “Perhaps Paul was saying that some people will find us unattractive because of what we believe, but to those who have similar faith, we emit a heavenly, life-giving fragrance. I’d like to think that we all smelled like that Clinique perfume, Happy.”

  Bryant scribbled a note in his workbook. “Happy, huh? That would make a nice present for Jane, the woman I brought to church today.” His cheeks turned a bit pink. “First lady I’ve ever sung in front of. I think that’s a good sign. She didn’t flee the building, anyway.”

  The friends shared a few more of their homework answers and then Cooper requested they spend their remaining time figuring out what action to take in the Miguel Ramos investigation. She told them about her adventurous evening and then opened her Bible to a passage she had circled earlier in the week.

  “Ever since I was a little girl, I’ve heard this verse in chapter four, but it never meant so much to me as it does now. Paul says, ‘But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us.’ ” She traced the verse with her fingertip. “Here we are—these fragile, breakable vessels, and yet we’re filled with God’s power.” She glanced at her friends, her mismatched blue and green eyes afire with intensity. “Pastor Matthews reminded us that nothing is impossible through Him. Until this morning, I felt pretty certain we’d reached a dead-end over Miguel, but maybe we can tap into that power, pray for something impossible, and sincerely believe that it will happen.”

  Savannah leaned forward in her seat. “Tell us what you’d like to pray for.”

  “Guidance!” Cooper answered passionately. “If it’s His will for us to solve this case, we need direction! We need to be shown a path to travel down, because I sure don’t know the way.”

  Trish moved closer to Cooper’s spot on the couch and touched her on the arm. “We all seem to be learning something about what happens to the plans we make for ourselves compared to those God has for us.” She removed her hand and fussed with her indigo turban. “He sure changed my direction.”

  “Well spoken, Trish,” Savannah stated enthusiastically. “Now let’s pray together. And we won’t forget to include Nathan, who we’ve missed today.” The friends took one another by the hand and bowed their heads in unison. As always, Savannah began the prayer with thanksgiving and then spoke of the needs expressed by the Sunrise members.

  When Savannah was finished, Cooper said a hearty “Amen!” and then exhaled in relief. She felt buoyed by hope. Her confusing feelings for Edward, the possible troubles in her sister’s marriage, Nathan’s odd behavior, Trish’s illness, and Miguel’s murder were nearly impossible for her to handle alone. To have lifted them up to a higher power allowed her an incredible sense of calm.

  “Since there’s no tellin’ if we’re gonna be detecting next weekend, let’s do somethin’ else to change our world.” Jake began to dig around in his coat pocket.

  Bryant watched him with keen eyes. “What did you have in mind?”

  Jake answered by showing them a flyer announcing a community clean-up in the East End, the area of the city that had seen such an outburst of violence over the past month. “They need a paintin’ crew to freshen up the elementary school on Saturday. Who’s in?”

  Everyone volunteered but Trish. “Sorry, but I’m going to be selfish next weekend. Phil and I are going to read the paper in bed like we did when we were first married and then my girls and I are planning to work on our scrapbooks and watch our favorite Disney movies while eating all the junk food we can stand.”

  “It’s not selfish to take that time,” Cooper replied. “It’s a gift to your family. Would you like to adopt me for a day? I love pajamas and junk food.”

  “Don’t worry about us, Trish.” Quinton rose and collected his coat and books. “There’s a certain new member of Hope Street I could ask to help out.” His hands ran over the text of Gloria’s name in the worship program. “I wonder what kind of cake is her favorite. I could bake something to take to her as a welcome gift.”

  Jake shook his head. “You got it bad, boy. Real bad.”

  Cooper looked closely at Jake, speculating whether he and Savannah were still close friends or had progressed to something more romantic. He continued to gaze at Savannah with pure adoration, fetched her food and coffee, and chauffeured her wherever she needed to go, but nothing else in their behavior toward one another seemed markedly different.

  As though reading her mind, Quinton slung an arm around Jake and laughed. “Looks like we all have it bad! Trish and Phil, Cooper and Nathan, Bryant and Jane, and hopefully, me and Gloria . . .” he trailed off, his cheeks flushed with anticipation. “I just have this feeling about her, like my prayers are being answered this very day! I’m going to call her the second I get home.”

  Quinton waved good-bye and hastened out to his car. Cooper watched his jaunty gait and laughed when he turned to blow a kiss over his shoulder. As the rest of the Sunrise members departed, she collected her purse from its hook on the hall tree. Spying an unopened package of Valentine’s Day cards featuring Miley Cyrus, she groaned inwardly. Sooner or later, she was going to have to sort out what she felt for Edward. In the meantime, she owed Nathan a confession that she was feeling tempted by another man.

  We need to talk, she thought. V-Day is creeping up and that’ll only put more pressure on.

  She inserted the demo CD that Quinton and Jake had recently completed and allowed the first song on their Songs of Our Father collection to wash over her. Quinton sang back-up and plunked out some simple chords on the piano. Jake had taken over the role of lead singer. His gravelly speaking voice was utterly transformed by devotion—made smoother and deeper like a rock softened by the power of flowing water. His classical guitar echoed the melodies while a Mr. Faucet coworker handled the percussion.

  Cooper sang along to the title track, her heart swelling with pride as her voice joined in with those of her friends.


  Songs of Our Father,

  Lift high on the wind,

  To the edge of the oceans,

  And where the rivers begin.

  She had just begun to sing the second verse when her phone signaled a new text message. Lifting the phone to eye level, she glanced at the screen. The message was from Nathan.

  WILL DROP BY 2NITE. MUST TALK. OK?

  Paused at a red light, Cooper responded by typing “OK,” and then hit the send button. A second later, her phone beeped again. Assuming she’d received another message from Nathan, Cooper gave the screen a casual glance and then frowned in confusion.

  SEND ME YR ADDY. WE NEED TO TALK. E.

  E? Cooper thought and then realized who had sent the message.

  WHEN? she typed back and then jumped as the driver behind her laid on the horn. She waved at the vexed motorist and shot through the intersection, where she’d clearly been holding up a long line of traffic.

  She almost drove off the road when she read Edward’s reply.

  2NITE.

  “What’s wrong with you, girl?” Grammy asked as Cooper returned from taking Columbus out to the field for a rodent snack. “You’ve been runnin’ like my pantyhose today. Barely two words at supper and you’ve taken the bird out three times. He’s gonna think it’s Christmas all over again.”

  Cooper sat down on Grammy’s bed and stroked Little Boy’s soft, orange fur. The rotund tabby purred in gratitude and rolled on his back, winking at Cooper with contented, amber eyes. “I’ve got men problems.”

  “Men?” Grammy’s eyes gleamed. “Oh, this is gonna be better than Rachael Ray’s cookin’. Lemme get in position.” She settled down next to Cooper and popped a butterscotch candy in her mouth. Little Boy heard the slurping and slipped out from beneath Cooper’s fingers in order to sniff at the discarded wrapper.