JOURNEY (THE CHASER CHRONICLES Book 2)

by John C. Dalglish

  The Counselor relaxed back in his chair, but now Buddy was leaning forward, staring at me intently. “Jack, do you remember asking me why Harbinger had warned you not to be a Chaser?”

  I did. We were having lunch at a Denny’s, and I’d asked him if he’d received a similar warning. He’d shaken his head. It was the same day I’d learned how his mentor died. “Sure, I remember.”

  “And what was my answer?”

  “Fear. You thought he was afraid of the Spirit’s power within me.”

  “That’s right. Fear. And since our encounter at the post office, where you got the edge on him, I think he’s more afraid than ever.”

  “But why target Brother Timmons? Why not come after me directly?”

  Buddy looked at the Gary, then back at me. “We think he’s going to attack you through those closest to you. He’s trying to force you to quit.”

  I sat speechless, the faces of all the people I care about running through my mind. I suffered another involuntary shudder.

  CHAPTER 3

  A knock on the office door startled all of us. Brother Edwards answered it. “Yes?”

  “It’s Detective Myers.”

  He opened the door. “Please come in, Detective.”

  I watched the look on Mandy’s face as she sized up the office. I remembered my own sense of wonder at the sheer size and majesty of the room.

  Mandy waved her arm at the room around her. “Nice office, Pastor. Is it an old section of the church?”

  Brother Edwards had taken a seat behind his desk. “Very perceptive. In fact, this is the original Journey Chapel, dating back to before the time of Lewis and Clark.”

  “Wow, very cool.” She took the seat offered her in front of Brother Edwards. “Despite the age of the building, I noticed you have the latest in security cameras. Do you they work?”

  I saw Gary Edwards’s jaw tighten slightly. “Of course. You can’t be too careful.”

  “Do you have one pointed at the back parking lot?”

  “I believe so.”

  I couldn’t understand why the pastor was playing dumb. A video could show exactly what happened, and who was responsible. Mandy appeared to be equally mystified. “Can we look at the video?”

  Slowly, Gary Edwards got up from his seat. “Follow me.”

  I wasn’t sure if he meant just the detective, but Buddy and I were right behind them.

  We went out into the hallway, retracing our steps toward the entrance, but stopped at the next-to-last door. The pastor turned a key in the lock and opened the door, and we all filed into a small room. Multiple monitors were set up on a desk, a joystick control in front of them and a video recording machine on the floor.

  Buddy and I leaned against the wall, while Gary and Mandy took the two chairs. The pastor pushed a button and spun a knob, and the back parking lot jumped onto one of the screens. When the exact shot we were looking for came on, it suddenly occurred to me why Gary didn’t bring attention to the cameras.

  He’d already seen the footage!

  The still picture began to move as the pastor slowly rotated the knob forward.

  Two cars were parked in the back lot, one facing the camera and the other facing away. Brother Timmons came into view at the bottom of the screen, walking quickly toward his vehicle, occasionally glancing around him.

  Mandy saw it, too. “He appears to be nervous. Pastor, were you aware if he was afraid of someone?”

  Gary didn’t answer as the video continued forward. The young clergyman’s car was facing away from the camera, so when Timmons got in and shut the door, we could only see through the rear window.

  Suddenly, a huge figure filled the rear window, there were a few quick movements, and the passenger door swung open. I couldn’t take my eyes off the open car door, waiting for the killer to emerge, but no one got out.

  The pastor sped the tape up slightly, letting it run for another ten minutes until we saw the church secretary head out to her car and find Brother Timmons. Pastor Edwards stopped the tape with the woman’s face frozen in a scream.

  Mandy looked at the pastor. “Who’s the woman?”

  “Our church secretary, Samantha Wilton.”

  “Was the killer still in the car when she found Timmons?”

  Brother Edwards shook his head.

  Mandy stared at him, confused. “What about earlier tape, did you get him climbing into the car?”

  Again, the pastor shook his head.

  “What are you trying to tell me, the killer is invisible?”

  Gary shrugged. “I don’t know what to tell you.”

  Now I know why the pastor wasn’t anxious to share the video.

  Detective Amanda Myers didn’t like to be jerked around, and she clearly thought that was the case here. “I don’t know what you’re trying to pull, but I want a copy of that tape. I’ll have my people look at it.”

  She glared at Brother Edwards, waiting. “Are you going to make me get a warrant?”

  “Certainly not.” He pushed the eject button. “And I assure you, no one is trying to ‘pull’ anything.” He handed the tape to the detective.

  Mandy took it, brushed past me, and left. Nothing was said for several minutes. Finally, Brother Edwards got up. “Let’s go back to my office.”

  Once there, he dropped into his desk chair with a sigh. “I had hoped to avoid that.”Normally, Buddy and I would be able to see a Runner, but the camera can’t. The guy in the back seat was huge and visible, but only a Runner had the ability to turn back from physical form to spirit. When he got in and out of the car, he was in spirit form, and thus invisible to the cameras.

  Harbinger had just started a war, and it was going to be me who ended it.

  CHAPTER 4

  It was a long evening at the church comforting the employees and parishioners who attended Journey Chapel. Word had spread quickly through the congregation, and people showed up in a steady stream, most to sit and pray within the main sanctuary.

  Everyone was shaken by the brutal death of one of their own, and it seemed impossible to think of anyone who would want to harm Brother Timmons, never mind kill him. Buddy, Gary, and I carried the extra burden of knowing who was responsible, as well as the concern for everyone else who might be a target.

  It was well after seven before I could get away and head for my place. I wanted some time to myself, both to pray and to listen. I needed to know what the Spirit wanted me to do next.

  Home for me was a small bungalow in the rather confusing location of North Drive, in West End, not far from Eastgate Park. It’s a lot easier to find than it sounds. The house was two bedrooms, a kitchen, and a living room. It was all I needed, and I hadn’t even bothered to buy much furniture.

  As I pulled into the driveway, my cell phone started to ring, a familiar name on the screen. “Hi, Mandy.”

  I hoped she wasn’t still angry for what happened in the security office, and felt I was part of Pastor Gary trying to put one over on her.

  “Hi, Jack. Can you come down to the station? I need to get a statement.”

  She’s using her all-business tone, not a good sign.

  “Right now? I just pulled into my driveway.”

  She hesitated. “It can wait until the morning. Nine o’clock.”

  “Great. Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.” The line went dead.

  My romantic feelings for Mandy aside, she was still my best friend, and I hated when she was mad at me. If you looked up ‘Cold Shoulder’ in the dictionary, you’d find a picture of Amanda Myers glaring at you.

  I put my phone away, dragged myself out of the car, and went to the door. Taking a long look around to make sure I wasn’t being followed, I let myself in to the small foyer.

  I left my keys on a hook by the door and headed into the kitchen. I stared at the contents of my fridge for a few minutes before deciding I wasn’t hungry. Going to the medicine cabinet, I washed down a couple Tylenol PM with some water and headed for the
bedroom.

  Dropping onto the only piece of furniture in the room, the bed, I was dozing off in minutes. Unable to keep my eyes open, I decided prayer would have to wait for the morning.

  Sorry, Lord.

  *******

  The smell of popcorn and cotton candy filled my nose. I heard loud music, carnival music maybe, but sadder. As I drifted downward, swirls of red and white appeared below me, and as they came into focus, I realized it was a big-top circus tent.

  It grew closer as I descended, and eventually I was standing next to it, my feet sinking into sawdust. A noise from inside the tent caught me off guard. I’d been expecting happy voices and laughter, but instead I heard crying.

  Moving through the flap and into the tent, I saw a crowd of people in the stands, all dressed as clowns. Each clown wore a red teardrop, painted under one eye as part of their makeup. Sitting in the middle of the center ring was a bright yellow clown car with a casket resting on its roof.

  The vision blurred, like a TV changing channels, and I found myself looking at a figure walking toward a bright light. As I watched, the figure hesitated, then turned toward me. He was dressed in a clown outfit, complete with makeup, but didn’t have the painted teardrop.

  He ran directly at me, his oversized clown shoes flopping wildly, forcing him to pick up his feet in exaggerated steps. One hand was atop his head, holding down an orange wig, which flopped almost as much as the shoes.

  He raced toward me, his shoes making a comical ‘klop, klop, klop’ sound. As soon as he passed me, the bright light disappeared into a vacuum.

  My eyes popped open immediately. Having experienced the visions of a Chaser many times, I have a regular routine, taught to me by Buddy.

  Grabbing the pen and pad I kept next to the bed, I quickly wrote down as much as I could remember. This vision was a first for me, not just because the Runner was a clown, but because I didn’t get a look at his real face. All my previous visions showed me the Runner’s real face.

  After jotting down the notes, I looked at my phone. It was only one in the morning, so I rolled over to go back to sleep. Apparently, I was mistaken. Now fully awake, it was time to pray.

  As Buddy once told me, when he woke me at the butt-crack of dawn, “If it’s past midnight, it’s morning, isn’t it?” I can’t argue with logic like that.

  CHAPTER 5

  I’d fallen back to sleep around three-thirty, and woke up again at seven-thirty. I had ninety minutes until my meeting with Mandy. While I normally look forward to seeing her, the tone of her voice last night had me on edge. Mandy was a very smart and tough interrogator.

  Man, I hope she doesn’t squint at me when she asks the questions.

  Mandy had this habit of narrowing her eyes when she thought you were hiding something, and I could swear she was looking right into my brain, reading the data for herself. It was very unnerving.

  I got up and showered, had a bowl of cereal, and made some coffee. As I carried a steaming cup to the living room, my phone started to ring. Going back into the bedroom, I picked it up. “Hello.”

  “Hi, Jack. It’s Buddy.”

  “Morning, Buddy. What time did things finish up at the church last night?”

  “Almost midnight. Detective Myers came back over and got a statement from both myself and Brother Edwards.”

  Mandy must have gone back to Journey after I turned her down.

  “She’s a bulldog. It’s my turn to see her this morning. Anything I should know?”

  “Just that she thinks the security video was tampered with, and you can’t really blame her. It’s not like we can say, ‘Oh, that’s a Runner, they can become invisible,’ and expect her to believe it.”

  I laughed. “No, I guess not.”

  “Anyway, the funeral for Brother Timmons is tentatively scheduled for next Tuesday.”

  I checked my watch. “Okay. I gotta run. I’ll talk to you later. Say hi to Sarah.”

  “Will do. Bye.”

  *******

  I arrived at police headquarters ten minutes early. Going up to the second floor, I found Mandy doing paperwork at her desk. “Hey.”

  She looked up. “Hi, Jack.”

  “I’m early,” I tried hopefully.

  “Good.” She stood up. “Let’s go into interview room four.”

  Apparently, the interview would be conducted by the cold-shouldered Amanda Myers. Once in the room, I took a seat facing her. The metal handcuff loop, which was welded to the table, was right in front of me. “You’re not going to need this, I hope.”

  She gave me a polite smile. “You never know.”

  Laying a pad on the table, she uncapped her pen and looked at me. “So, tell me what your connection with Journey Chapel is.”

  At least she’s not squinting at me.

  “I attend services there.”

  “Sure, I know that. Why did the pastor specifically call you and Buddy to come to the scene?”

  “Did you ask Brother Edwards?”

  “Yes, but I want to know what you have to say.”

  There was no point in being evasive, and besides, I felt for her. She was in a tough spot, trying to solve a murder she couldn’t, only she didn’t know it.

  I kept a smile plastered to my face. “Do you remember the night we met for dinner and I told you I’d been offered a new ministry?”

  “Sure, it was right before you started getting beat up all the time.”

  “Hey, not all the time…well, maybe... Never mind that. The ministry I referred to is under the direction of Brother Edwards and Journey Chapel.”

  “And what does that have to do with the death of the young minister?”

  “Brother Timmons is…was…a counselor to me in my ministry.”

  Detective Amanda Myers set her pen down and leaned forward. Her tone softened as Mandy suddenly reappeared.

  “Look, Jack. You’re not a suspect in the murder, and I know you go to church there, but I need any help I can get. There are things at Journey that don’t add up, heck, they don’t even make sense.”

  What should I say? ‘I love you, Mandy. I would do anything for you, but I can’t explain this to you.’ Yeah, right!

  “Mandy, I don’t have anything to give you that would help on the case, but I will tell you the people at Journey are top shelf. They’re good folks.”

  She slumped back in her chair. “I believe you, Jack. It’s just I’ve got a dead man, no fingerprints, no weapon, and a video tape that makes the killer look invisible.”

  “Sounds like an almost impossible case.”

  “You have no idea!”

  Actually, I do.

  She got up and started pacing. “Timmons still had his wallet on him, with about thirty bucks and his ATM card in it, so it doesn’t appear to be robbery. The tape appears to show the killer waited for Timmons in the backseat, which indicates some sort of an assassination, but I can’t find anyone who even disliked the man. There isn’t any family in the area, and he lived alone.”

  “Did you hear from your people on the tape? Did they find anything?”

  “Not yet. I should hear something later today.”

  I stood up. “I’m sorry I can’t be more help.”

  “Can’t or won’t?”

  I was surprised by her anger. “Mandy, you know me better than that. I’d give you anything useful I had.”

  She gave me a sheepish grin and touched my arm. “I know, and I’m sorry about jumping you like that.”

  “It’s okay. I know the pressure is on.”

  She walked over to the table and picked up her pad. “I have to ask, where were you yesterday morning?”

  “In my office.” I followed her to the door. “And if you need anything, that’s where I’ll be this afternoon.”

  “Thanks, Jack. I appreciate it.”

  CHAPTER 6

  After grabbing a bite to eat, I went to the office. Pushing the door open, it dragged across the usual pile of mail dropped through the slot. Bills
, credit card pre-approvals, and coupons for fast food. I quickly scanned the pile before depositing it in the trash.

  Sitting at my desk, I got out the notes from last night’s vision. Obviously, I was looking for a clown, or at least, a circus performer. I opened my computer, and pulled up the St. Louis Post-Dispatch website. Before I could click on the Obituary tab, the front page caught my eye.

  American Big-Top Tours Honors One of Its Own

  In a spectacle never seen before, the performers of American Big-Top paid tribute to one of their long-time clowns, Burt Cummins. He passed away suddenly on Thursday from a heart attack.

  To honor their friend, every member of the traveling circus dressed in a clown outfit, then packed the stands of the big-top tent and held a memorial for their friend. The coffin was perched atop a yellow car used in his performances in a macabre and unforgettable send-off.

  Mr. Cummins was fifty-four, and been with the circus for twenty-six years. His wife and three children are all part of the clown show, and his first grandchild was set to join the act at the Big-Top Tour’s next stop in Kansas City.

  My reading was interrupted by the phone. “Jack Carter.”

  “Hi, Jack. It’s Mom.”

  “Hey, Mom. How are you?”

  “Good.”

  My mother, Annie Carter, lived here in St. Louis. Dad died of cancer a few years ago, and since then, Mom has had one mission in life. Me.

  She spent her time worrying about, praying for, and doting on her only child. “What time will you be here tonight?”

  I had a regular dinner date at home, usually on Fridays, and it was almost always the best meal I’d have all week. “Sixish okay?”

  “That’s fine. Fettuccine is on the menu, sound good?”

  “Sounds wonderful. Is it okay if I ask Mandy to join us?”

  “Of course, dear. I’m always glad to see Amanda.”

  After years of friendship, Mandy had graduated from my mother calling her ‘that cop lady’ to just Amanda, and she’d become one of my mother’s favorite people. “Good, I’ll ask her and let you know.”