Past Prologue: Where are our Children (A Serial Novel) Episode 4 of 9

by Gary Sapp

heated parent teacher conference at the elementary school where she taught third grade. The parent had cursed her and threatened bodily harm to her if his son’s grades didn’t magically rise over the remainder of the semester. Special Agent Christopher Prince would have called himself a bold faced liar if he claimed there wasn’t times during his career that he wanted to use his badge and his resources…to engage in behavior that ventured outside the law.

  The man who helped aid in the death of his beloved came closest to witnessing that…behavior first hand.

  He never liked to talk about how Hoshi had died…or that his father was taken from him in an automotive incident as well…killed by a drunk driver while he was returning home from duty.

  Besides…I know there is enough death here today without me digging up graves from the past.

  “You must have loved her deeply.”

  “I did.” And Chris unclutched his fist as he admitted as much to Roxanne.

  “I can tell.” Roxanne said. “I see how much attention to detail you paid when you drew her. The texture of the canvas as I mentioned before, the hues and colors that you chose. No matter how still she may have sat, the areas around her mouth and eyes wouldn’t have been the same each day you went back to work on her portrait. Some of your strokes were generated from memory.” And then she faced him down. “And I know love in a man’s eyes when I see it.”

  “Do you?”

  Now it was Roxanne’s turn to whither under the fire of his gaze. Two more guests walked up to Chris and greeted him warmly. He acknowledged them one at a time and returned his attention to Roxanne after they moved on to other family members.

  After some of people in his house had begun to file out Roxanne said: “I also came today to speak with you about another matter. It’s important.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “It’s about your friend. There is something that you should know about Dr. Hicks Dupree—“

  “Angel?” Chris asked. “How do you know her?”

  Before Roxanne could answer his question Chris noticed a hush over the remaining crowd as his high school bud ushers someone of his own race into Chris’ home.

  Angel had arrived.

  The crowd parted like the red sea in that old Bible story as she limped past them in route to reaching him. Chris could hear all of the hateful mutterings and comments and sure that his childhood friend could hear them loud and clear.

  Rumors could be a vicious thing. Lies were worse still. Chris had seen his name attached to both before. Now he knew that despite all of the help she’d been giving the bureau, that Angel was being persecuted in the court of public opinion for her brief involvement in Pandora.

  And now Roxanne Sanchez, a woman who otherwise fascinated him like know woman had since Hoshi Givens, was going to join in with the persecutors for one reason or another. And that angered him some.

  “Christopher,” Angel hugged him fiercely. She was wearing a cream button up blouse with a knee length black skirt and flats. Heels only tired her leg out faster. She reeked of a beer keg. She was off duty, he told himself, and she had been there for me when I told her the entire truth about Keaton’s kidnapping of me all those years ago. She turned to Roxanne and the younger woman’s gaze would have charred though Angel if only Roxanne had an igniter.

  Angel must have noticed the bad vibes reverberating off of Roxanne. “Have we met?”

  “My name is Roxanne Sanchez.”

  Angel nodded. “The Private Investigator,” Angel reached out her hand but Roxanne folded one arm across the other and stood on her heels. “And yes…I think we have met before actually. Your name rang a bell with me when Christopher mentioned you before.” Angel folded her own arms and stood her ground preparing for whatever sparring came next. “Once again, Roxanne, I’m very sorry that your sister’s…case ended the way that it did.”

  Roxanne said: “And once again you refuse to take any responsibility for your part in her demise.” She exhaled audibly through her nostrils. “Listen, I don’t want to discuss my sister with you, not here.”

  “Sister,” Chris asked. “What are you two talking about?”

  Roxanne glared at Angel a moment longer. “Why don’t you answer your friend’s question, Doctor?” She made the last word as if she had cursed her. “Why don’t you answer all of his questions, even the ones he doesn’t know he has for you yet. In speaking of questions, Doctor, how is your husband?”

  “My husband is my business and none of yours.”

  Angel and Roxanne engaged in an endless game of stare down until Roxanne seemed to have enough, said her goodbye to Chris and turned to leave them where they stood.

  “What in the hell was all of that about?” He asked Angel after Roxanne showed herself out.

  Angel frowned. “It’s complicated.”

  “Try me, Doc, you and I have done complicated before.”

  “You’re new friend is the younger sister of Maria Sanchez.”

  Chris searched his professional memory banks for the file with that name located inside of it. Shit. “Sanchez.” He felt his hairless brow rising on his forehead. “The female serial killer you aided the bureau in capturing a few years back?”

  “One and the same,” Angel replied. “And ‘bringing her in’ might be the greatest understatement you make this year, Christopher. You don’t know how I damned wish that the case would have ended far simpler…and less messy than it actually did.”

  “Alright,” Chris said after he thought about it at a deeper level. “Maria Sanchez did die under controversial circumstances while in the bureau’s custody.”

  “She did,” Angel told him. And Angel made a point to stare long and hard at his front door where Roxanne Sanchez had showed herself out. “And I’m sure that she blames most of it on me because ultimately, I was the one who talked Maria into surrendering herself over to the FBI.”

  Xavier

  Too much ginger ale has that effect on you Bro.

  Xavier Prince followed his older brother into the cafeteria’s bathroom and locked the door behind him. There were two ‘out of order’ signs and a plain clothed Peacekeeper between the two brothers and Denise’s family and friends who were dining on the far side of the building. A House in Chains Number One couldn’t help but grin knowing that his disguise had gotten him this far undetected by either friend or foe. He wore clothes two sizes too big, his hair was a chariot of fire and his teeth were on golden pond.

  Chris, on the other hand looked good, in fact he was looking more like their father every day. He had gained some weight around his middle, but he was far from unhealthy looking. Xavier was thankful for the extra layer of skin attached to his own nose because this bathroom stank as if hadn’t been cleaned in months. He guessed that the cleanliness is close to Godliness didn’t apply to a church’s bathroom. He kept his distance while Chris handled his business, using the extra time to remove his brim, shades and false facial hair. Hopefully his pimp manner of walking hadn’t given him away. A man couldn’t change his DNA, his fingerprints or his walk no matter how much he had practiced the night before.

  “Xavier?”

  “Hello, big brother.”

  Chris turned his clean shaven head ever so slightly to be sure he wasn’t seeing ghosts. “Is that really you? What are you doing here?” Chris scanned the dirty bathroom. “How did you get in here?”

  Xavier turned on his shame face. There had been no other way of guaranteeing he’d get to see his brother; even wearing the disguise. “I’ve been riding with you all along.”

  “There was a bit of delay when the cars lined up to drive to the church. I don’t remember seeing you get in either family car.”

  “You’re hearing me, Chris, but you’re not listening.” Xavier said slowly, letting the other man catch up to his meaning. “Like I said before, I rode in the hertz with you all along.”

  “Don’t tell me you were in the goddamn casket, Xavier,” Chris paced within a small area of space. And
then he let out a burst of uncontrollable laughter. “You know shit like that lowers our chance of getting into heaven.”

  Xavier laughed with his brother…stopping long enough to put his ear to the door, unnecessarily listening for anyone coming. The Circle had worked out an arrangement with the funeral home and had securely…and respectfully buried Denise in the plot that she and Chris had picked out when they were still married. The face and the upper torso that his brother and everyone else saw earlier inside the church was a finely detailed mannequin. Grace Edwards had contracted the work out to several individuals who specialized in that kind of thing and the three men had worked on the model from the time the news had broken of Denise’s unfortunate demise.

  Xavier then told Chris that he had been smuggled into the casket when Denise’s actual body had been removed. Chris frowned at that. The younger brother reminded him that desperate times dictated just as desperate measures.

  “I had to see you, Chris.”

  The older brother’s facial expression bounced from anger to disbelief to hardened resolve then back again.

  “All of this trouble that you went through,” Chris said. “I appreciate you coming here.”

  “It was a beautiful ceremony. Denise and Erica would have been pleased with how you have honored their memories.” He feigned a punch to his brother’s gut. “Look at you, Bro; you’ve put on a few pounds.”

  As soon as he said it, Xavier wished he could have taken his sentiment back. I see that