CROSSOVER (THE CHASER CHRONICLES Book 1)

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CROSSOVER (THE CHASER CHRONICLES Book 1) Page 5

by John C. Dalglish


  He slowly turned his coffee cup around in circles, watching the last few drops chase each other around the bottom, before he began.

  “I was three months into my training with my mentor, Justin Maddox, when he called me one night to go with him on a chase. Of course, I was ready to go and met him down at an old warehouse. We sat and waited for nearly two hours until I spotted the Runner. He wore the same clothes then as he does now, black trench coat and everything.”

  I tried to imagine myself meeting Harbinger in an empty warehouse after dark. Definitely not my idea of a night on the town.

  “Harbinger showed up in physical form, knowing we couldn’t cross him over as long as he was manifested. I have no idea if he knew we were waiting for him that night, but he’s been corporeal every time I’ve run into him since. I think he always stays manifested when he thinks a Chaser could be around.”

  The waitress stopped at our table and refilled our cups. Buddy dumped powdered creamer in his, stirred it slowly, and took a sip before continuing.

  “Justin had brought his sword but left the cross at home. Instead, he had a knife. The plan was for me to sneak up behind Harbinger while Justin confronted him. I’d stab him with the knife, causing him to return to spirit form long enough for Justin to cross him over.”

  “What happened?”

  “Justin stepped out and engaged Harbinger while I slipped around to a spot behind the Runner. As soon as I was in position, I lunged and stabbed the Runner in the back. Unfortunately, Harbinger was stronger than Justin had anticipated. The Runner spun, knocked me to the ground with his fist, and retrieved the knife from where it had landed next to me. Justin moved in and thrust his blessed sword, but Harbinger remained manifested and was uninjured.”

  Buddy paused, the painful memories etching his face. His voice lowered to a whisper, and his eyes carried a far off look. He was back at the battle.

  “Harbinger found the knife, swung around on Justin, and the blade cut across Justin’s throat. Justin fell back, and before he could gather himself, the Runner drove the blade into his chest.”

  I sat quietly to show respect for the old man’s memory of his mentor. Finally, Buddy looked up at me.

  “I escaped while Harbinger absorbed power from Justin. I’ve hunted him ever since, but I’ve never had the right opportunity to take him down.”

  “Why didn’t you shoot him? Why the knife?”

  “If you kill a Runner in physical form, he’s not crossed over. A gun is not a weapon of spiritual battle, and if he dies, he comes back.”

  Something else was bothering me.

  “Why do you think Harbinger keeps warning me not to follow you? Did he ever do that to you?”

  He pondered the thought for a minute before looking me straight in the eyes.

  “He never warned me, but he was never afraid of me, either.”

  His statement stopped me, and it took a minute to register what he was saying.

  “Are you suggesting Harbinger is afraid of me?”

  I dismissed the idea as unlikely.

  Buddy nodded. “Not what you are now, but what you will become.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The power of the Spirit is much stronger in you now than it was in beginning with me or my mentor. I believe Harbinger senses the threat.”

  “If you’re right, why hasn’t he killed me? He’s had two shots at me, and I wouldn’t have been able to protect myself. Both times he surprised me, and I’m no match for his speed.”

  “You’ve not committed to the mission. He’s being prevented from harming you until you decide.”

  “How?”

  Buddy just shrugged his shoulders. “Some things are not ours to know.”

  I slumped back in my seat and tried to assess what Buddy was telling me.

  I lingered on the idea of trying to explain to Mandy, a cop who fights bad guys all day, that there’s a whole other world of bad guys she’s never seen. She’d probably look at me like I looked at Buddy the first time he told me.

  I’d been present, witnessed the reality of it all, and still was having a hard time believing my own eyes and ears. Just the same, it’s a calling with few equals. The opportunity to preserve free will for the living.

  Buddy was watching me out of the corner of his eye.

  “You’ve made a decision, haven’t you?”

  Buddy Daniels can be very creepy sometimes.

  “Yes, I think I have. I need to spend time in prayer to be sure it’s the right one, though.”

  Buddy smiled and stood up. He already knew which it would be.

  Like I said, creepy.

  CHAPTER 8

  That afternoon, after Buddy had dropped me at the house, I decided not to go into the office. Instead, I wanted to take a walk and hash out my thoughts. My favorite way to communicate with God is to walk and talk.

  Don’t get me wrong, I’ve got nothing against kneeling in prayer. But I’ve always felt the Lord with me when I walked, my focus on Him.

  July was beginning to roll into August, and other than a calendar, there was no way to tell. Both months are hot and dry. After a half hour or so of walking, I reached Endicott Park. It’s typical of most city parks with swing sets, slides, and jogging paths. I found a shady spot under a big oak tree and stretched out.

  Lord, you know what you’re asking, and you know if I’m strong enough, but I need to know inside. Please give me the faith to step forward and accept the mission. I want to be your servant…

  *******

  “Hey mister, you okay?”

  I could see the man, and I could feel him shaking me, but I was slow to react. Finally, I was able to respond.

  “Yes, thank you.”

  I guessed him to be in his early twenties with red hair and an equally red beard. His t-shirt bore the words ‘Keep Calm and Pray.’

  “You were sitting there mumbling something and your eyes were wide open. I thought you might have heat stroke or something.”

  I got to my feet and looked at my watch. Six-thirty. I’d been here four hours, praying and listening. I was aware of what I’d been doing, but had no idea of the time span.

  “I’m fine, but thanks for stopping. I appreciate it.”

  “You’re welcome. Have a nice night.”

  He put headphones on and continued down the jogging path.

  I walked home, feeling refreshed and alive. God had challenged me to step up, and I wasn’t going to let Him down. I had my answer and all that was left to do was tell Buddy.

  Feeling energized, I turned my walk home into a jog.

  *******

  When I got to the house, I found a voicemail from Mandy on my phone. I dialed her number and she picked up on the second ring.

  “Hello.”

  “Hi, Mandy. It’s me.”

  “Hey, Jack. How’s it goin’?”

  “Good, you?”

  “Better. I got my own car back, which means no more patrol cars for a while, and I’m in the mood to celebrate. You with me?”

  I laughed.

  “Sure. What did ya have in mind?”

  “Applebee’s? I’m buying.”

  “Sounds good. Let me clean up and I’ll meet you there in a half hour.”

  “Great and hurry up.”

  “Okay, why?”

  “Because I’m already here.”

  I laughed and hung up.

  *******

  I managed to cut the half hour down to twenty minutes and found her at a table near the back. She looked nice in a teal sleeveless shirt and black slacks. Her hair rested on her shoulders, curled at the ends. She had a glass of wine in her hand and a bottle sitting on the table. There was more than one glass gone from the bottle.

  “Got a head start, I see.”

  She smiled up at me.

  “This is my second, don’t worry.”

  “What makes you think I’m worried?”

  She gave me a knowing look.

  I’ve always
watched out for her, even though she could take care of herself in most situations. A history of alcohol abuse ran through her family, and she knew I was wary of her slipping into the same pattern. I sat down as she poured me some wine.

  Mandy lifted her glass. “To good friends.”

  “To beautiful dinner partners who pay,” I responded.

  We clinked our glasses as she rolled her eyes. The waitress arrived, and after giving our orders, Mandy sat back in her chair. She seemed to be studying me.

  “Something’s different with you lately. What’s up?”

  I don’t make a habit of lying, especially to Mandy, but I couldn’t tell her the whole story. Not yet.

  “Just feeling good these days. I have work to do and I’m feeling energized by it all.”

  “That’s great. I thought maybe there might be a new girlfriend I didn’t know about.”

  I laughed.

  “No time for dating these days with my crowded schedule.”

  I’ve dated occasionally, and even had an exclusive relationship or two, but nothing lasting. Mandy had always been there to give me advice, or lend a shoulder to cry on, but I’d given up trying to find someone who measured up to her.

  Problem is I’m a coward, at least when it comes to telling her how I really feel, and I’m pretty sure she doesn’t feel the same way.

  Dinner arrived and we ate, tasting each other’s entrées and laughing with our mouths full. When the plates were taken away, I decided to broach the subject most on my mind these days.

  “So, I’ve been offered a position serving in a special ministry. I’m considering it seriously.”

  Her eyebrows went up as her glass went down.

  “I knew something was up! What kind of position?”

  “Well, it kinda ties in with my P.I. work. I find people who need ministering to, and then try to help them. Sometimes it will take me into dangerous places, but I would be doing a lot of good.”

  She squinted at me as she does when examining a suspicious piece of evidence.

  “Somebody is being deliberately vague. What ministry is it?”

  “I guess the best way to describe it would be to call it a ‘seek and help’ ministry.”

  Mandy’s expression was now so suspicious I could barely see her eyes.

  “Who made the offer? Is it a local ministry?”

  “The Lord has brought the opportunity into my path, and I want your opinion. It’s here in St. Louis.”

  She relaxed visibly when she found out I wouldn’t be moving away.

  “What kind of danger?”

  “Oh, look who’s worried about whom, now?” I grinned at her. “Some of the people I help could be combative.”

  “Are they mentally ill?”

  I laughed. “No.”

  “I can see you’re not going to give me all the details so I’ll give you a broad answer to your question. If I had an opportunity to make a difference for the Lord, I would consider it a privilege.”

  I thought about it for a few minutes as she watched me. I had gone as far as I dared with the subject. I knew she meant it—Mandy never felt she did enough—but like me, she’d never found her place.

  “I’m sorry to be so vague, but I appreciate your advice.”

  She sat forward and looked me directly in the eyes.

  “You know I’m always here for you, right?”

  I smiled. It was one of nicest things she’d ever said to me.

  “Yes, and it means the world to me.”

  CHAPTER 9

  After dinner with Mandy, I went home and crawled into bed. An hour later, I was still awake and staring at the ceiling. As my dad used to say, it was time to ‘fish or cut bait.’ I got out of bed and kneeled, my face in my hands.

  “Lord, you know me better than I know myself. You have called me to this work and promised to equip me. I don’t know what awaits me, but I am willing. I choose to serve you as a Chaser.”

  I returned to my bed without hearing any great fanfare. There was no heavenly chorus of amen greeting my decision. What I did feel was a peace settling over me, and I slipped into a wonderful sleep.

  *******

  The next morning, I was at Buddy’s door before seven. He answered with sleep still in his eyes.

  “You’re here early. What’s the occasion?”

  Turnabout is fair play, and at least I wasn’t getting him up at the crack of dawn.

  “We need to talk.”

  “Sure, come in. Sarah’s just putting coffee on.”

  I followed Buddy into the kitchen where Sarah had put an old-fashion percolator to work. It smelled fantastic.

  “Good morning, Jack. Eggs and toast?”

  “Yes, please. That would be great.”

  Buddy sat down and gestured at the chair across from him. We made small talk until breakfast was ready, and ate in silence as I made a pig of myself. I’m sure Sarah was reevaluating the impact on their budget of having me eat here. I sipped my third cup of coffee.

  “This coffee is excellent.”

  Sarah looked pleased.

  “Thank you. I get the beans ground at the market, and we use a percolator. I think it’s much fresher that way.”

  “I agree. I need to dump my drip maker.”

  Buddy got up and filled his cup again, but instead of returning to the table, he went to the back door.

  “Let’s talk out on the patio, Jack.”

  I thanked Sarah for breakfast and followed Buddy outside. He was standing near the edge of the patio, staring out towards the cemetery. I came up beside him. He spoke without looking at me.

  “You’ve made your decision.”

  It wasn’t a question.

  “Yes.”

  “Are you certain?”

  “I am.”

  “Then we must prepare you.”

  That’s right. He didn’t ask me what my decision was, only if I was certain. Remind me not to play poker with this man.

  “Tell me what needs to be done,” I said.

  “There’s someone you need to meet. I’ll make the appointment and call you this afternoon.”

  Sarah came out to join us, carrying her coffee and the newspaper. The day was warm, but not uncomfortable, with a slight breeze that rustled the leaves. I could see why they loved this spot.

  She opened the newspaper as she spoke. “Congratulations, Jack. You’ll be in my prayers every day, just like my husband.”

  She sipped her coffee without looking up. I stared at Buddy.

  “You tell her?”

  “No,” he smiled. “She has the Spirit too, Jack.”

  She was off my poker-playing list as well.

  I said my goodbyes and headed for the office.

  Despite making the Earth-shattering declaration that I would become a Chaser, the day seemed to be pretty much the same as any other. I guess I expected more hoopla, maybe a chorus of angels or something, when I signed on.

  Instead, Buddy had acted as if it was a foregone conclusion.

  Apparently, I was just the last to figure it out.

  *******

  I parked on the street in front of my office and headed up the staircase to the second floor. The usual pile of mail was in the usual place with the usual bills. The one exception was plain white envelope with a handwritten address. It was from Libby Samms.

  I dumped the rest of the mail on the desk, grabbed my St. Louis Blues letter opener shaped like a skate blade, and sliced open Mrs. Samms letter.

  A brochure of sorts fell out along with a short note. The brochure was from a funeral home. A cross with doves flying around it was on the cover. Inside, I found the information on the funeral for David Samms. I stared at it, startled to see a client’s name so soon after a case. I don’t often see death in the lives of people I investigate.

  I opened the note, leaning back in my chair.

  Dear Mr. Carter,

  I wanted to make you aware of my husband’s passing. He suffered a heart attack just a day a
fter our meeting at the coffee shop.

  I am very grateful for your efforts, which relieved me of any doubt as to my husband’s faithfulness.

  Regards,

  Libby Samms

  I took another look at the funeral announcement. The funeral was tomorrow, and I decided to attend if I could. I needed to tell her what her husband was really doing at the bar.

  The phone rang, startling me.

  “Jack Carter Investigations.”

  “Hi, Jack. It’s Buddy.”

  “Hi Buddy, or do I call you Sensei?”

  He laughed.

  “Call me what you want, but be here at three this afternoon to pick me up. I’ve arranged our appointment.”

  “Okay, see you then.”

  ********

  At ten to three, I pulled up in front of Buddy’s house. He came out immediately and got in. He wore his robe but no cross or sword. I was beginning to think the robe was because he was cold all the time, even in summer. His face bore a fixed, serious expression.

  “Turn around, go back to the highway, then north. I’ll tell you where to go from there.”

  I looked at him, decided against small talk, and did as he said. A few minutes later, he pointed at a road coming up on the right.

  “Turn here.”

  I followed his instruction, and we headed down a small side street, which dead-ended a half-mile down. The entire block at the end belonged to a church.

  ‘Journey Chapel’ was as much a chapel as Busch Stadium is a ball field. The place was huge. Manicured lawns, paved sidewalks, and at least six different entrances. A slender spire with a cross at the top started at the ground and rose up the front of the building until it touched the sky.

  An electronic signboard scrolled service times and scheduled functions in a non-stop neon stream. Under the moving lights sat a small sign, hand-painted in an artistic, but simple manner.

  Gary Edwards-Pastor.

  Buddy pointed again.

  “Over there, park in back.”

  I drove around to the rear of the church and parked where Buddy indicated. He got out and I followed. When he got to a small wooden door, he knocked twice.

 

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