Mountain Top

by Robert Whitlow

  He put down the Bible. Ken West had called Mike a formidable adversary. Mike didn’t feel formidable. The click of the electric lock on the holding cell door was an exclamation point of his personal frailty. But the recognition of his limitations enabled Mike to enter into the common denominator of those who suffer for righteousness—God’s grace made perfect in human weakness. As he started reading again, liquid strength entered his spirit and hardened like concrete in the depths of his character. He looked up at the stark ceiling with gratitude. When he emerged from the cell, he had confidence that the change, no matter how small, would be permanent.

  Hours passed. Mike dozed some but spent most of his time reading and thinking. He didn’t try to characterize his thoughts as prayer, but nevertheless believed they were sanctified. The lights in the cell blinked on and off twice. The door opened.

  A different deputy appeared. “Come out.”

  Mike stepped into the hallway. Even after such a short period of solitary confinement, the sight of people bustling around the booking and processing areas of the jail was a shock to his system.

  “Can I keep this Bible?” he asked the deputy.

  “Sure. We have stacks of them.”

  The deputy motioned toward the booking area.

  “You can change into your street clothes. Your bail has been posted.”

  “What time is it?”

  The deputy pointed to a clock on the wall of the booking area. It was 7:35. “Is that evening or morning?” Mike asked.

  “Morning. You’re getting out too soon for breakfast. You’ll have to handle that on your own.”

  Mike had spent almost twenty hours in the holding cell. He put on his clothes.

  “What about Sam Miller?” he asked when he came out of the room.

  “We’re not authorized to release that information.”

  “I’m one of his lawyers.”

  The deputy stared at Mike in disbelief.

  “He’s right,” said the female deputy who had been on duty in the waiting room when Mike came to visit Sam on previous occasions. “He’s the lawyer who has been representing Miller.”

  “He’s at the hospital. I don’t know his current status.”

  “What happened to him?” Mike asked in alarm. “Did Brinson hit him?”

  “I don’t know his status.”

  Mike left the jail, then realized he didn’t have a car parked out front waiting for him. He also didn’t have a cell phone. He started walking down the street toward the Ashe Street Café where he knew he could make a call. A car pulled up beside him and slowed.

  “Can I give you a ride?” a familiar voice asked.

  It was Bobby Lambert. Mike got in the car. Bobby drove forward slowly.

  “Do you know what happened?” Mike asked.

  “Yes. I’m the one who posted your bond. I left the magistrate’s office a few minutes ago to meet you, but they let you out before I arrived.”

  “Thanks. Did Peg call you?”

  “Yes. I also talked to Greg Freeman.”

  “What about Sam Miller? He’s at the hospital, either beat up or with heart problems.”

  Bobby shook his head. “I don’t know anything about it. It took until morning to get everything straightened out for you. I was at the church late last night for an emergency session meeting.”

  Mike turned in his seat. “What happened?”

  “You’re out. Fired. I did my best to persuade them to wait for the truth to come out, but no one would listen to me. News of the arrest hit the street and swept you out of the church. I couldn’t protect your sabbatical payments, either. I’m sorry. All ties are severed. It’s over.”

  Mike took in the information as if listening to news about someone else.

  “I know you tried,” he said, facing forward. “Take me home. Then I need to go to the hospital.”

  As Bobby drove, Mike stared out the window at the same landscape he’d watched from the rear of Lamar Cochran’s police cruiser. Things looked the same, yet different.

  “Are you okay?” Bobby asked after several minutes of silence. “I mean, it’s a stupid question, but you’re not saying anything.”

  “Yeah. A night in jail can do a lot for your perspective on life.”

  Thirty-four

  MIKE STEPPED THROUGH THE DOOR AND SAW PEG WAITING ON the other side. In a split second, the love he’d carried in his heart to the jail cell was confirmed in her eyes. They embraced and held each other as if they’d been separated for years.

  “You were right,” Mike whispered into her ear before another wave of emotion washed over him. “I saw your face. It was glorious.”

  Peg pulled away and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.

  “No, it’s not. I’m a mess.”

  Mike touched his heart and his head.

  “Not in the places that matter.”

  Peg leaned against his chest. They held each other again.

  “Do you know what’s wrong with Sam?” Mike asked.

  “Not exactly. Muriel phoned from the hospital. It’s his heart. He’s in a regular room hooked up to a monitor.”

  “Did he have a heart attack?”

  “She wasn’t sure. The doctors were still running tests.”

  “Let’s go see them.”

  While Peg got ready, Mike held Judge’s head in his hands and rubbed a spot behind the dog’s ears for a few moments. Even his contact with the dog seemed more vibrant than the previous day. They got in the car.

  “What happened at the jail?” Peg asked. “Were you in any danger?”

  “Only from whatever is wrong in me. I was alone in a small holding cell the entire time. Your face—” Mike stopped. “I can’t began to describe—”

  “Don’t. I’m satisfied now that we’re together.”

  DURING THE DRIVE, MIKE BROKE THE NEWS ABOUT HIS TERMINATION from the church. Peg listened quietly.

  “I don’t want to go back,” she said. “I let the answering machine screen calls while you were gone. Some of the people who left messages were almost obscene in their hatred.”

  “Who—?” Mike started then stopped. “I don’t want to know.”

  They arrived at the hospital. The cardiac care rooms were on the second floor not far from where Marie Dressler died. Mike didn’t have any problem identifying Sam’s location—a deputy sheriff sat in the hallway. They approached the deputy, and Mike introduced himself.

  “I’m one of Mr. Miller’s attorneys.”

  “Go in. Chief Deputy Cochran told me you might be coming by.”

  Mike and Peg entered the room. Sam had the bed inclined to a seated position. The light blue hospital gown around his neck made his blue eyes sparkle. Muriel was sitting beside the bed. She rose and gave Peg a hug. Sam looked surprisingly normal.

  “How are you feeling?” Mike asked him.

  Sam patted his stomach. “My spirit is strong, but the doctor says my heart sent out an SOS. He and Deputy Morris want to keep me here and check me out.”

  “I thought you might have gotten beat up in a fight. Did you have any trouble with Brinson in the cell block?”

  “Nope, but we have unfinished business to attend to. He showed me places on his arms where his stepfather used to put out his cigarettes. But the real burns are a lot deeper. The Enemy didn’t want me sharing a revelation I got for the boy and sent my heart a-fluttering. I got dizzy, and the next thing I remember I was in an ambulance coming over here. They got me settled in, and I had a decent night’s sleep that included a dream about you. Muriel, please hand me my notebook.”

  Sam held up one of his tattered notebooks. “See, Muriel brought it because you should always be prepared for Papa to speak to you.”

  “I’m listening to you right now. Does that count?”

  “You know there’s a big difference.” Sam turned the pages. “But let’s see. You were in a dark place that looked like a cave. You couldn’t see anything so you were standing real still, waiting. A little light
started shining in your right hand. I looked down, and you were holding an old black Bible. When you held up the Bible, the light increased so you could see your way out of the cave.”

  “That describes it pretty well, although I’m not sure about getting out of the cave for good. I may have to go back.”

  “Things happen fast in dreams. Working it out can take years.”

  Muriel spoke. “Mr. Freeman called us here early this morning. He sounded like a nice young man. He’s going to try to get Sam’s bond reduced. Right now, it’s a lot more than our house and land are worth.”

  “He’ll work on it today,” Mike reassured her.

  They spent the rest of the morning together in the hospital room. Mike brought in breakfast from Traci’s for Peg, Muriel, and himself. Sam sampled the egg substitute on his hospital tray and pronounced it as edible as the wheat straw he spread over newly planted grass seed. Toward noon, a nurse arrived to prepare Sam for additional testing.

  “We’ll be back tomorrow,” Mike said. “Will you be here?”

  “Papa told me I was going home. It may be today; it may be tomorrow.”

  “Don’t try to outrun Deputy Morris.”

  “When my time to go comes, he won’t be able to catch me.”

  Mike stared hard at Sam for a second before the nurse came between them. Mike paused at the door and handed Morris his cell phone number.

  “Would you call me if he takes a turn for the worse?”

  “Yeah, but I go off duty at three o’clock.”

  “Please pass the number along to the man covering the next shift.” Mike paused. “And try to spend a little time with Sam yourself. You won’t regret it.”

  MIKE LOOKED AT THE BLINKING LIGHT ON THE ANSWERING machine in the kitchen.

  “Do I want to check our messages?” he asked Peg.

  “It’s up to you.”

  “Go into the great room and rest. I’ll listen to this batch.”

  Mike pressed the button. The first call was from a woman who’d recently started attending the church and promised, without a hint of condemnation in her voice, to pray for him. The second was from Greg Freeman.

  “Mike. Call me at the office as soon as possible.”

  Mike phoned the lawyer’s office.

  “Mr. Freeman is at the courthouse but should be back shortly.”

  “Is his calendar clear?”

  “Yes, and I know he wanted to talk with you.”

  “I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

  Mike listened to three more messages: two slanderous, one supportive. He went into the great room.

  “The messages are cleared. I’m going into town to meet with Greg Freeman.”

  “I put the checkbook for the money market account on the counter in the kitchen. He asked me for a retainer when I talked to him about your bond.”

  “Did he quote an amount?”

  “Yes, $10,000 for you and $10,000 for Sam.”

  Mike swallowed. “It’s not out of line for a felony arson charge. I’ve charged more than that myself, but it wouldn’t leave us much in the bank if we have to front Sam’s retainer, too. After Greg runs through that money, I’m not sure what we’ll do.”

  “Maybe we can become one of Sam’s miracle stories.”

  Mike tried to push away anxiety as he drove down the hill into town. Greg Freeman’s office was located on the second floor of a small office building on the opposite side of the courthouse from Forrest, Lambert, and Arnold. Mike parked on the street and walked up a flight of stairs. Freeman’s name and suite number were painted in black on a glass door. Mike stepped into a reception area about the same size as the cell he’d occupied at the jail. The retainer requested would go a long way toward paying the lawyer’s overhead for the rest of the year. At the sound of the door opening, a young woman came around the corner.

  “Mr. Andrews?”

  “Yes.”

  “He’s waiting for you.”

  Mike followed her down a short hall and stepped into a plain, rectangular office with a window overlooking the courthouse square. A picture of dark-haired Greg Freeman with his wife and baby daughter prominently occupied the corner of the desk. Freeman stood and shook Mike’s hand. Mike took out his checkbook and placed it on the desk.

  “Thanks for working with Bobby to get me out. I’m prepared to pay the retainer for myself and Sam. Since he’s not doing well, I don’t want to delay moving forward on his release.”

  “Hold on to your money for a few more minutes,” Freeman replied. “We may need to renegotiate. I went over to the courthouse and met with Ken West and Melissa Hall, who, by the way, easily won her first case at my expense yesterday.”

  “Hopefully, Sam and I can give you more to work with.”

  “It wouldn’t be hard. West and Hall tossed out a couple of facts that would hurt us. First, your prints were found on the gas can taken from the scene.”

  “I’m not surprised. I’ve been around Sam while he was working several times in the past weeks.”

  “And the church secretary claims Miller threatened to burn down the church after you were forced out for agreeing to represent him.”

  Mike shook his head. “It was a dream about the church, and she has her events out of sequence.”

  “We’ll get the details on that later. But the main purpose of the meeting at the DA’s office wasn’t to browbeat me into submission. Do you know Lamar Cochran?”

  “Of course, the chief deputy.”

  “He took the initiative to contact the convenience store where the 911 call was made connecting you and Miller to the fire scene.”

  “Carrington’s One-Stop?”

  Freeman glanced down at a legal pad on his desk. “That’s the place. The store has an outside surveillance camera that runs on a twenty-four-hour cycle. Cochran reached the store owner before the tape recorded over the evening of the fire. Cochran reviewed the images. The pay phone is clearly visible, and only one person made a call close in time to the fire.”

  “Could he identify the caller?”

  Freeman paused. “Yes, it was the brother of Rob Turner, the man I represented in court yesterday. The brother’s name is Vann. Cochran picked him up, and Detective Kelso is interviewing him at the jail right now.”

  “Will he talk?” Mike asked excitedly.

  “Probably not,” Freeman said, shaking his head. “He’s been arrested many times and knows keeping his mouth shut is the best way to stay out of jail.”

  “What else did West say?”

  “Nothing except that he wants your opinion about who set the fire. He respects your ability as an investigator.”

  Mike spoke slowly. “I have definite ideas, but I don’t think Ken West wants to hear them.”

  “Try them out on me. I’m your lawyer.”

  “I haven’t paid you, and after I explain everything you may want to raise your retainer.”

  “It would be better for me to know all the facts before we go forward.”

  Mike adjusted his position in the chair.

  “Okay.”

  Freeman made notes while Mike told what he’d learned representing Sam in the embezzlement case and the events surrounding the fire.

  “Do you have the date and time of the e-mail purportedly from the elder at the church?”

  “Yes.”

  “The schools have cameras. Maybe we can check with their security as well.” Mike also summarized his conversations with Braxton Hodges.

  “Do you know what Hodges is going to do next?”

  “No, except keep looking through Butch Niles’s trash can.”

  When Mike finished, Freeman stared out the window for a moment.

  “Write one check for $10,000,” he said. “And I’ll hold it in trust for a few days while we see what develops. In the meantime, it shouldn’t be too hard to get Miller’s bail reduced so he can go home from the hospital instead of back to the jail.”

  Mike left Freeman’s office. It felt good letting s
omeone share the weight of the knowledge he’d been carrying. When he arrived home, Peg handed him a packet delivered by a local courier service. Mike opened it and took out the paperwork formalizing his dismissal from the church. The termination letter was signed by Milton Chesterfield. Mike put the documents back in the packet. “The pink-slip letter from the church. I’ll save this for a day when I think my ego is getting out of hand,” he said to Peg.

  “That’s my job, and I don’t need any help.”

  “Do you want to go out and celebrate my release from jail?”

  “We’re broke. And I’d rather not see anybody. Let’s lock the doors and turn out the lights.”

  “Are you serious?”

  Peg touched him on the cheek. “I just want to be with you and hold your hand. If I squeeze tight enough, maybe no one will be able to take you away again.”

  So, they spent the evening together at home. Mike’s appetite returned, and Peg fixed a full meal. After supper, they sat on the couch together while Mike told Peg what happened in the holding cell at the jail. He made it through without tears until he showed her the Bible the guard gave him.

  “Your face was my encouragement and this was my light,” he said, holding it up. “I think the cave is behind me.”

  THE FOLLOWING DAY, FREEMAN PHONED WITH NEWS THAT SAM’S bail had been reduced to an amount that would allow a property bond secured by the Millers’ property.

  “I plagiarized your work in the embezzlement case,” Freeman said. “It saved me a lot of time.”

  “Glad it helped. Does Sam know about the bond?” Mike asked.

  “I tried to reach him at the hospital, but no one answered in his room.”

  “Is he okay?”

  “I assume so. I dialed the room directly.”

  “I’ll go over there and check,” Mike responded quickly.

  “The paperwork for his release is waiting at the magistrate’s office.”