Burt started to say something in response, but he heard the gate at the end of their 200-yard driveway open.
“Now what’s a fancy car like that doing out here?” Burt stood up straight. “It’d better not be one of those church folk, or I’ll take care of them.”
Even at that distance, they knew it wasn’t a car they recognized.
“Shut the garage door, Burt. Cover up that van.”
Burt moved quickly, and Caylee hobbled back to the front of her car, the shotgun slung over her right shoulder, watching as the man in a nice suit shut their gate, and started to drive his shiny BMW up the gravel driveway.
CHAPTER 11
“Quite the welcoming party,” Tex Hunter mumbled under his breath as his car moved up the driveway, the pebbles crunching under the tires. The girl with a shotgun on her shoulder watched him closely as a large male quickly closed the garage door.
Hunter parked his sedan back from the girl, and turned the car around, facing the gate. That made it easier for a quick escape.
He texted Ray Jones his location and said that if Ray didn’t hear from him in two hours, he should come for a drive. He took a deep breath, checked that the girl in the rearview mirror wasn’t advancing towards him, then exited the car.
As soon as he opened the door, dogs started barking.
An older man stepped out the front door of the house, looked at the man standing near the garage door, and then said something to the girl. The girl looked angry with him but did as directed; first, taking the shotgun off her shoulder and then walking in the front door of the one-story house.
The brick house was bland in color but long enough to fit six bedrooms. The area around the house was what Hunter expected—overgrown grass, unkempt yard, and way too many run-down cars. Exactly what he thought the home of a racist should look like.
The older man had grease stains on his shirt, and his jeans were torn at the knees. He stood just under five-foot-nine, but if he stood up straight and didn’t slouch, then he might gain an extra inch. His thin gray hair was frizzy, and his skin had seen too many hours in the sun, but it was the smoking that had clearly taken its toll.
As had the cancer.
And the emphysema.
If there was ever an advertisement for why kids shouldn’t start smoking, Chuck Johnson was it.
“Who are you?” The man’s question was blunt, followed by a deep cough.
“My name is Tex Hunter. I’m a defense attorney. I’m here to talk with Chuck Johnson.”
The man spat on the ground, a mixture of phlegm and blood. “We don’t get many strangers up here, especially ones dressed in nice suits.”
“You must be Mr. Johnson.” Hunter held out his hand, but the man ignored it. “Lucas Bauer mentioned you were friends.”
“Lucas said that? I don’t believe you.” Chuck raised his eyebrows.
“Why not?”
“Because Lucas doesn’t want people to know we’re friends. It wouldn’t be good for his business.” Chuck spat on the ground again and stepped closer. “You’ve lied to me, and that’s not a good start to this conversation.”
“You and Reverend Green weren’t friends. I know that’s the truth.”
“We don’t call him ‘Reverend’ up here. He was no priest. He didn’t spread the word of the Lord. He was a dark-skinned troublemaker. He didn’t like me, and I didn’t like him.” The man pointed at Hunter. “And I don’t like you either.”
Chuck looked over his shoulder at his brother, Burt, leaning against the garage door, ready to pounce the moment that Chuck needed any physical backup. Chuck dipped his head towards his brother, and Hunter watched as Burt walked around the side of the house.
“I’ll get to the point.” Hunter stepped closer, staring down at Chuck. “I need your help in the case of the murder of Reverend Green. I’m defending the man charged with his murder. I’m sure that you would like to help that man.”
“As much as I’m happy that the faith healer murdered Green, I’m not going to help him. He’s not my family, and he doesn’t believe what I believe. I want nothing to do with him.”
“Perhaps we can discuss this further inside?” Hunter pressed.
“No chance.” Chuck laughed. “I don’t trust lawyers as a general rule, and in your case, I’m not going to make an exception.”
“What I came here to ask, Chuck, is where were you on the night of February 1st?”
Chuck stiffened but smiled when he looked over his shoulder.
Burt Johnson walked from the side of the garage, holding two black barking Doberman dogs by the leash. Despite his strength, Burt struggled to keep them from charging at Hunter, leaning backward as he pulled on the leash.
“You’d better not be thinking of framing me, lawyer boy, because I’ll warn you—I can be very dangerous.”
“I’m not framing anyone; I’m asking questions.”
The dogs came closer to Hunter. They snarled, drool dripping from their mouths. They were hungry. That was clear. Burt yanked one back, but it only made the dog angrier.
“And I’m not answering any more questions.” Chuck crossed his arms. “So, unless you want to become dinner for my dogs, it’s time for you to leave.”
The dogs pulled Burt closer.
The smell of wet dog hung in the air.
They were within inches.
But Hunter didn’t budge.
He took a step closer to Chuck, closer to the threat of the dogs. “This case is pointing me in your direction, and I’m going to be looking into your past.”
The dogs snarled again.
Hunter saw Caylee walk out the front door, but his focus was on Chuck.
“I don’t care about your laws, lawyer boy. We live by the laws of the White Alliance Coalition.” Chuck spat on the ground for the third time, right next to Hunter’s shoes.
“If I find out that you had anything to do with the murder of Reverend Green, or the Baptist church shooting, I’m going to bring this whole house down on top of you.” Hunter stepped within inches of Chuck’s face. “Watch your step, Chuck.”
“Back off! Get back!”
A shotgun was pointed in Hunter’s face.
“Back off! I’ll shoot you!” The anger in the girl’s voice was clear.
Hunter stared at Caylee Johnson holding the shotgun barrel only a foot away from his face. The gun was steady.
“Back off! I’ll shoot you!” she repeated.
“That’s my girl.” Chuck smiled. “Full of hate for boys like you. You see, we don’t like city boys. Now, get off my property, lawyer boy. I don’t want to have to bury a lawyer up here.”
Hunter held the stare.
The shotgun moved closer.
The dogs continued to snarl.
“I’m coming for you, Chuck.” Hunter turned and walked back to the safety of his car.
Danger was very close.
And so was the solution.
CHAPTER 12
The lunchtime sun snuck through a small gap in the blinds, trying to poke its way in to wake up the hardy souls who had been drinking since the place opened.
Tex Hunter gazed into his whiskey, the thoughts of the case forcing his mind to travel to places it hadn’t in a long time. The deeper he dug into the case, the deeper he went into the family dramas, the deeper he dug into his own hurt.
He didn’t like that. Not one bit.
But as he did with all his strong emotions, he was trying to dull them with the taste of whiskey.
His life hadn’t been easy—he knew that. From the day the handcuffs went on his father’s wrists, Hunter’s life was a constant struggle—his relationships, his work, his reputation. Most people ran once they found out who he was related to.
That was his lot in life, and as he approached his mid-forties, he understood that he had to do the best with what he had been blessed with. And he had been blessed—he had a great career, a comfortable life, many of the luxuries that the modern world had to offer.
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But love was something that eluded him.
He sipped his whiskey, disappearing deeper into his thoughts.
Why is love so hard? Why is it so hard to be vulnerable? Why is it so hard to let the stone wall down?
It was only the soft touch of Esther’s hand on his shoulder that brought him back to reality.
“Are you ready?” she asked.
He drew a long breath. “I think so.”
He stood tall and buttoned up his suit. He reached across and finished his drink, his second. Together, they walked out of the dive bar and onto the main road, then towards the Comer Children’s Hospital.
“Come on, big guy.” Esther playfully punched him on the arm. “You saved this girl’s life. There’s nothing to worry about here.”
“That’s not what I’m worried about.”
“What are you worried about then?”
“My family’s reputation.”
Esther didn’t respond. She didn’t even know where to start.
For Hunter, it was a train of thought that didn’t have a station to stop at. He knew how to fix most things, he knew how to solve most problems, but there was one thing he couldn’t fix, one thing that was beyond his capabilities.
His father’s convictions.
That was the reason why he wasn’t driven to have a family of his own; all he knew was the pain from his late childhood.
“The young girl, Eva, seeing her at ten years old, having her innocence taken away, reminded me of my past and how much it affected me. She’s the same age as I was when everything changed.” Hunter put his hands in his pockets as they walked across the street. “And the further I go into this case, the more I think about my family. The more I find out about these people, the more these questions continue to bubble away in my mind. I hate it, Esther. I hate it. This is my head, and I should be able to control the thoughts in there. But with my father, I can’t. I can’t switch it off.”
“And so you thought you would suppress those thoughts with whiskey?”
“That usually works.”
“It’s not healthy, Tex. You have to face your emotions. You have to acknowledge what they are and face them head-on. Otherwise, they’ll just keep coming back, worse and worse each time. It’s time for you to face these feelings. If you don’t have someone to talk to, then I know a really good psychologist that you could contact. He’ll help you process these demons.”
“We all have a past—even Reverend Green hated people.” Hunter shrugged.
“Don’t change the subject, Tex.” Esther rolled her eyes. “This is about you, not Reverend Green. You can’t keep focusing on work.”
“Yes, I can.”
They walked into the busy hospital foyer. Hunter hated that smell; the mixture of disinfectant, ammonia, and fresh flowers made him nauseous.
“Okay then. This should calm your nerves. I saw footage of Reverend Green trying to reach out to the White Alliance Coalition. There was footage on YouTube of Green talking to the daughter, Caylee Johnson, that was posted a year ago. He offered his hand in peace when he found her outside a local shop.”
“Interesting. Was it heated?”
“Not until Chuck Johnson came along. It was a very calm discussion, and the daughter really seemed to listen to Green, but then Chuck came to his daughter’s ‘defense’.” Esther used her hands to indicate the quotation marks. “Chuck pushed Green and told him to stay away from his daughter. So I think that maybe Caylee Johnson is a soft spot, a way to get some evidence about Chuck. She might be more open to a conversation.”
“Caylee isn’t weak.” He stated. “But if Chuck is protective of her, then it may be the leverage that we need.”
After Esther spoke with the receptionist in the hospital’s foyer, Hunter stopped to buy a bouquet of yellow daisies, but even they smelled like they were grown in a hospital. With the flowers in hand, he walked in silence along a corridor, moving past people rushing to save lives, past people comforting each other, and into the elevator.
“Want to hear a joke?” Esther smiled as she tried to lighten Hunter’s mood.
“Is it really tasteless, really dirty, or just really bad?”
“I’ll tell the joke, and you can make up your own mind.” Esther hoped to elicit a smile. The elevator doors closed, and Hunter pressed the button for the 4th floor. “My friend was a good guy. He was always thinking of others, always giving out gifts. Even when he was on the ground dying from eating peanuts, he managed to give me a present. It seemed really important to him that I got his Epi-pen.”
Hunter managed a grin as they walked out of the elevator and down another corridor.
“That almost worked, so how about some dirty jokes?”
“Go on.” Hunter smirked, his dimples visible.
“A man came into the hospital with burns on eighty percent of his legs, and the nurse helped the EMT transfer him to a hospital bed. The doctor said, ‘Give him two Viagra.’ The nurse asked, ‘Will that help his burns?’ ‘No, but it’ll keep the sheets off his legs!’”
Hunter chuckled.
“A hot blonde orders a double entendre at the bar… and the bartender gives it to her.”
He laughed.
“A man was arrested by a female police officer. She started saying, ‘Anything you say will be held against you—’, and he shouted out, ‘Boobs!’”
“Are you sure that you weren’t a dirty old drunk man in a past life?”
“That’s my whole family history. We were English drunks before coming here one hundred years ago and trying to sober up.” Esther touched Hunter’s elbow to lead him into the private room. “Come on.”
Hunter was barely a foot in the door of the room before a tall African American man stepped forward.
“What are you doing here?” The man grunted. The stress on his face was clear. He looked like he hadn’t slept in weeks.
“I’ve come to bring Eva flowers.” Hunter offered the peace offering. “And to see how she’s doing.”
Hunter looked to the girl, and his heart broke. The ten-year-old was hooked up to tubes, wires, and multiple machines. Her eyes were closed, and the drugs that were pumping through her veins kept them that way. The machines beeped, whirled, and hummed, drowning out any thoughts.
She had a Cubs signed jersey draped over the end of her bed; her favorite team had rallied once they heard of her plight. The whole city had. The room was filled with cards, flowers, and gifts. While school shootings were becoming the norm, nobody wanted to hear of a young girl shot as she played outside a church.
Despite Hunter’s best efforts to save her, Eva West received the brunt of the bullet shot into her chest on the day of the Baptist church shooting. She couldn’t breathe by herself and had spent the last month in an induced coma.
“Get out. You’re not welcome here. You’re the son of a serial killer who defends other killers. You’re not welcome anywhere near my daughter.” The man pointed his finger at Hunter. “This is your fault!”
“Dwight, please.” A woman, Eva’s mother, stepped around the bed. “This man saved our daughter’s life. Without him, she would’ve taken the whole bullet.”
Hunter presented the bouquet of flowers to the mother. “I pray that she pulls through.”
“You wouldn’t know how to pray.” The father turned his back to the visitors. “You wouldn’t know the first thing about the Lord!”
The mother offered Hunter and Esther half a smile, and Hunter returned the same. This was not the time for him to press forward.
Hunter turned and walked back down the hospital corridor, Esther following a step behind.
His pace was quick, and Esther struggled to keep up.
“Sorry, Tex, I was wrong,” Esther said as they stepped back into the elevator. “I thought they would’ve embraced you.”
“Hatred is a powerful emotion, Esther. One of the strongest.”
They rode the elevator in silence; Hunter trying to keep his sadness at bay while
Esther gave him the space to do that. Without a word between them, they walked out of the elevator, through the corridors, and back past the reception desk.
When they stepped out of the hospital foyer into the cold air, Esther looked to her boss. “What can I do?”
“There’s not much you can do at the moment.”
“Come on, Tex.” She brushed a strand of hair away from her face. “There must be something I can help with. Let me help you. I really want to.”
He drew a long breath and looked back at the hospital, up at the windows of level four. “If you really want, you can look into Chuck’s family. Do a little bit of digging around, but don’t get close to them. They’re dangerous, so don’t confront them at all. The daughter may be a chance to push Chuck’s buttons, and get the leverage we need. She’s twenty-one, and if she showed some interest in what Green was saying, then she might be our chance to get some information. Ask around, search the Internet, that sort of thing. I want to find out how she spends her days, who she’s close to, where her income comes from, how she supports herself.”
“I’m on it, boss.”
“But be careful. Don’t get too close to the fire.”
“Yes, boss,” she replied with a cheeky grin. “It seems like you’re feeling emotional, and that means you’re going to do one of two things right now—either go back to the bar or go back to work.”
“You know me too well, Esther. I’m going to see if I can meet with Nancy Bleathman, and find out what she knows.”
“What will she know?”
“I’m not sure, but I’m sure that Anderson isn’t a killer. Even if he hasn’t been completely honest with us, he doesn’t have the look of a murderer. He was in the wrong place at the wrong time, but the list of people that had a motive to kill Green is long. We have so many potential suspects.”
“What does your gut say?”
“Lucas Bauer. After I chat with Bleathman, I’m going to follow him. See what he’s about. Bauer may be the key to the case, and possibly the church shooting. I have to get close enough to him to find out what he knows, and who he knows.”
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