As he walks in, confused and disorientated, he notices a priest is waiting patiently on a chair, resting in quiet calm with his eyes open.
“Hello, my son,” the man says in a distinctive Irish accent. “Please, come in.”
It’s not often that Terrance Marshall is welcomed inside; usually, if he’s standing at the doors, people panic. Most people bolt the door and arm themselves if they spot him walking towards their house.
Uncomfortably, Terrance steps further inside. The slick, modern feel to the building was not something that he was expecting. The only thing that he recognizes as church-like are the two old paintings of Mary, the mother of Jesus, that hang on the styled concrete walls.
“Hello,” he says, bowing his head in respect. “I don’t know if I’m in the right place. I’m not sure if this is even my religion.” He rubs the top of his bald head. “I’m not even sure if I have a religion.”
“Not to worry. Please sit down. Tell me what’s troubling you.”
Terrance sits his large frame on a small wooden chair, scared that it might crumble under his weight. Leaning forward on his knees, looking at the ground to avoid the gaze of the bearded man in his seventies, Terrance goes to open his mouth, but nothing comes out.
In no rush, the priest waits.
“I…” Terrance sighs and looks at the ground. “I’ve come to confess my sins.”
The priest continues to wait, acknowledging what is clearly a large amount of effort for the man to be there. “Would you prefer to go somewhere quieter?”
“I think so.” Terrance nods, eyes still focused on the floor, and follows the priest along the hall and into a private room.
“Do I kneel?” Terrance asks as he sees the kneeling pad in front of a large wooden screen. In contrast to the grand main chapel, this room is small and calm, a place of sanctuary.
“Only if you want to.”
The priest ambles around to the other side of the screen, almost floating under his gown, providing Terrance the peace and solitude that he desires. With slow movements, Terrance leans his body forward, first coming to his right knee, and then moving his left knee onto the pad with the assistance of his hands. His knees won’t thank him for the motion, but then, his body hasn’t thanked him for much in the past.
He had attempted to go to reconciliation once before, a different church, a different denomination, but he couldn’t bring himself to open his mouth. He couldn’t admit what he had done. He couldn’t bring himself to relive the horrors he had caused.
That day, he walked back out of the church, consigned that he would live out his days as a criminal, and live an afterlife of eternal damnation.
But then the sickness began, and he had time to question his own mortality over and over again. With all that time alone, he questioned more than he had ever questioned before. Life, or death, caused him to think deeply, and he didn’t like the answers he gave himself.
“I have sinned more than most, Father. I have sinned more than I can remember.” He draws a long breath, filling his lungs with the cool air.
“Go on.”
“I have killed,” he begins. “At war. I killed people in Vietnam. Lots of people. I didn’t want to, but they were my orders.” He holds back the tears. “I have also killed on the streets. I’ve stolen, I’ve committed acts of violence, I’ve dealt drugs, I’ve beaten people for looking at me sideways.” Terrance’s eyes begin to blink back tears as he tries to be honest with himself. “I didn’t want this life. I didn’t want any of it. But it was the only way I knew how to survive. How else could I survive? I didn’t finish school, I had no skills, I had no family. The only thing I had was violence. That’s all I had. It’s all I knew.”
“We all make our own choices.”
“I didn’t. I didn’t choose this life. It was thrown onto me. I had nobody to help me, and this was the only way I knew how to survive. It was the only way I could survive. None of my school friends got jobs, none of them had a career, they were all dead before they reached thirty. I was lucky… because I did what I had to do to survive. I survived.”
“Perhaps, but you still had a choice. You must take responsibility for your choices. The choices you have made in life are the result of your free will. They are your decisions.”
“I do take responsibility for them.”
“And do you ask for forgiveness?” The voice behind the screen is calm. “Are you truly sorry for what you have done?”
“Yes…” Terrance’s lip quivers. “Yes, Father.”
“My son, I forgive you. The Lord forgives you. The Lord asks that you repent of your sins, but most importantly, you must ask for forgiveness first. You have taken the right step to forgiveness, both from the Lord and from yourself.”
With his head coming to rest on the back of his hands, Terrance weeps.
Soon, it turns into a deep, soulful cry full of years of repression. He lets it all out, slobbering on his hands, not even trying to sniff back the drooling tears.
“I want to be good. I want to live a life of peace.” He slobbers. “I didn’t want any of this.”
The priest walks from behind the screen and rests his hand on the shoulder of the crying man. “Now is your chance. You still have time to change things, but you must work hard to correct the wrongs of your past. That’s what is important now, not what you have done, but what you will do. Confess your sins to the authorities, and to the people that you have hurt. Now is the time for change.”
“How can I change?” Terrance continues to mumble, his forehead against his wrist. “How can I change what I am? How can I change what I’ve become?”
The priest tries to reassure him. “Love is the way that you turn this around. Love, my son.”
“But I’m dying, Father. I’m almost dead. I don’t have long left in this world.”
“If you are truly sorry, then the Lord forgives you.” The caring hand on Terrance’s shoulder radiates warmth. “But you must go in peace, my son, and live your remaining days trying to correct the wrongs of your past. You must take action to repent your sins.”
Terrance calms himself, wiping his eyes with the tissue that the priest hands him.
“You’re right, Father. I must correct the wrongs of my past.” In this quiet moment, in this quiet place, the worlds of pain he has caused flash before his eyes. In that instant, in that second, he grasps what he must do.
He must right the wrongs of his past.
“Father. I’m sorry, but I have to sin once more. I still have one more problem to solve.” Terrance stands tall, refocused, sucking in one big gulp of air, his chest expanding and his shoulders drawing back. “And it’s going to be one big, final sin.”
Chapter 28
“You were right.” Jack Grayson bursts through the front door of the lawyer’s office.
Standing next to his assistant in the boardroom, discussing their current predicament, Bill raises his eyes from a file in front of him to see what the fuss is about. The long table is covered by papers that will lead to his defense against the civil case.
It’s only been five hours since Bill sent a request through to his investigator, but Jack Grayson is good like that. Breaks codes, breaks noses and breaks records for turnaround. That’s why Bill doesn’t mind paying his high fees.
“A few homes in the area had bunkers built in the 60s. There’s a record of building permits or extensions for the address you gave me. The application is for a large, concrete basement to be used as a bunker. I was surprised because I didn’t think that there would be any records for Monty’s house, but it appears the original owners were quite the rule followers. Having said that, a lot of the bunkers were filled in over time, but I did find a website dedicated to photos of basement bunkers in California.”
“There’s a website for everything,” Bill adds, moving from the back of the table, closer to Jack.
“There’s probably even one dedicated to handsome lawyers.” Kate smiles as he closes a file on the
table. “And they’re invaluable, very intelligent assistants.”
“You would be at the top of that list, Kate.” He sits down at the end of the table, and Jack follows his lead, eager to tell him what he has found.
“There is no exact address listed for the photos of the website, but it’s listed as a bunker near in the forest near Wrightwood. The description says that it’s on a ‘very private property’. It sounds like his place.” He brings up the photo on his smartphone. “And this is what the bunker looks like on the inside.”
Bill studies the photos, flicking through the three photos on the device. “Just enough room to store something important.”
“You hope,” Kate adds.
“I saw Monty’s reaction when I looked at the basement entrance. He’s hiding something valuable, and it has to be in that basement. That’s our key. That’s where he would store the black books from his days in Kevin Wu’s prostitution racket. And that’s how we put Kevin behind bars.”
“What if it’s nothing?” Kate moves around the table. “Didn’t you mention that you also saw a basement at Terrance’s house? Isn’t it more likely that he has the black books stored down there?”
Bill stares at his assistant, the thoughts crashing through his head.
“And there’s something else you should know,” Jack adds as he sits down. “Monty Lee was in the city today.”
“Monty Lee? Are you sure?”
“I am. I went to stake out Terrance’s house again, and saw a suspicious car at the end of the road. When I went closer, it was clear that the man in the car was Monty, and he was staking out the house. He was trying to be discrete, but he wasn’t very good at it.” Jack leans forward in his chair. “He’s a lot bigger and rougher than the photos I’ve seen of him, but I’m sure it was Monty Lee.”
“How can you be sure?”
“I saw him with my own two eyes.” Jack picks up his smartphone again and flicks through more photos. “And my camera.”
He turns the phone around, and Bill studies the picture. “There’s no doubt that’s the man that I saw the other day. But what was Monty Lee doing outside Terrance’s house?”
“I’m not sure, but I’m going to assume that he was looking for a chance to settle a score.”
Bill studies the photo of Monty sitting in the front seat of his pickup truck. “I mentioned two names when I met Monty: Kevin Wu and Terrance Marshall.”
“You must have pushed the right buttons when you went and saw him. He must have been angry enough to risk everything and come out of hiding.”
Kate squints. “But why’s he come out of hiding now?”
“I think he’s going to try to finish things once and for all,” Jack states. “He must be tired of always looking over his shoulder – always wondering when Kevin or Terrance are going to find him, and pay him back for what he did to Amy Wu.”
“We have to move on both those basements tonight. Either of those places could store the things that we’re looking for. If we don’t, then Monty Lee might be planning to do something stupid. If he goes after Terrance and kills him, then we lose any chance of getting a testimony, or finding that stolen footage.”
“Which means that we lose any chance of forcing Kevin to withdraw the case.”
“Which basement are you going to start with?” Kate sits down next to them.
“Hopefully…” Bill draws a long breath. “… the right one.”
“If Monty Lee is monitoring Terrance’s house, then that leaves his place open. You could—”
“It has to wait until tomorrow,” Jack replies to Kate. “We’re not going at night.”
“It’ll be the only time we get the chance to do it, Jack.” Bill moves closer to his friend. “We have to go tonight. We can’t break into those places during the daytime.”
“It’s too dangerous to go at night. There could be anything in those basements. There could even be an armory.”
“Or a burial ground,” Kate adds.
The investigator squirms as he looks around the room, running his hand over his short-cropped hair.
“What’s wrong?” Bill questions. “Afraid of the dark?”
“I’m not scared of the dark.” The concern in Jack’s voice is clear. “I’m afraid of what’s hiding in it.”
Chapter 29
She can hear him coming.
He makes quite the noise as he opens the basement door. Mumbling, she can hear that he’s studying the broken door from her escape attempt from a week ago.
Even with the ability to leave, she didn’t exit her basement again. Every time she even went near the door, her heart rate went up. The outside world filled her with fear and terror.
Tonight, his tone sounds aggressive. As he approaches, the fear drenches her, anxiety crippling her movements.
Her shoulders tighten. Her eyes close tight.
As he walks closer, she pretends to be asleep under her dirty blanket.
“Why did you try and escape?” He moans. “Why? You have everything here. Everything. The world out there isn’t what you think it is. Your life is so much better in here.”
She doesn’t move in the hope that he will think she’s asleep and leave her alone.
“Why?”
She can hear the desperation in his voice, the pain.
He drops the bag of food on the floor; it’s heavier this time. More bread. More luxuries. Perhaps even apples. A small smile escapes her lips.
“I went to the library and got you three new books to read,” he says, grumbling. “Don’t know if you’ll like them, but they say they’re for girls your age.”
New books? Lying on her side, facing away from him under the blanket, her smile broadens.
Life is pretty good here. Why would she consider running from this?
“Listen,” he says. “Like I said, things around here are going to change shortly. I don’t know exactly when, but some things are going to happen soon. Really soon.”
She pushes the blanket back and sits up.
“So you are awake.” He comes to sit at the edge of the bed. “Our time here is coming to an end, and I don’t know what’s going to happen next. But I just want you to know that… well, I will do everything to make sure that you’re ok. You’re going to be fine.”
Without a word, she sits forward and wraps her arms around the man.
She holds him for a while until he pats her on the back. “Don’t get all soppy on me. I don’t know how things are going to change, but they will. Someone else is going to look after you.”
Desperate to avoid the emotion, he peels her arms off his shoulders, stands and trudges away.
As he walks away, she cuddles her arms around her chest, memories getting the best of her.
She remembers the day she was taken; the day they came and grabbed her from her home. She was sleeping in her room at the time, and in the middle of the night, two people grabbed her, a man and a woman, and they tied a cloth around her mouth before dragging her out the window.
At first, she was sure it must have been a nightmare, she was sure it was just a dream, but the pain quickly made it real. She tumbled into the trunk of a car, a hard slap across her cheek, and driven away at high speed.
She didn’t cry. She didn’t even make a sound. She was too scared to even move. She lay in the pitch-black, trapped in the trunk of the car, for what seemed like hours, until the car eventually stopped.
That was when the arguing started. Lying in the dark, scared out of her wits, she listened to two people argue about her fate. She recognized both voices.
They were screaming just outside the trunk.
“She has to die!”
“This has to happen!”
“You signed up for this!”
But all the while, he defended her. “I won’t let you do it,” he had said. He wouldn’t let it happen to her. He couldn’t let it happen to her.
That’s when she heard the physical fight break out. She heard a body smack against
the car, the loud crunch echoing through her confined space.
The car started again, and they began to drive away, but that’s when she heard the distinctive sound of gunshots.
Three of them.
The last shot was followed by the sound of smashing glass.
The back window of the car had been blown out, but the car didn’t stop. The car only raced away faster.
When they finally stopped, he opened the trunk and held out his hand, leading her to the concrete basement. There was nothing there then, not even a bed.
But over the years, he built everything she could need: a flushing toilet, a comfortable camp bed, a bookshelf and a desk. He even gave her a purple beanbag last year.
When she first came to the basement, she asked when she could go back home. All she wanted was to go back to her grandmother, feel that warm hug one more time.
“A number of problems have to be sorted out first,” he would say, before becoming angry. Even at seven years old, she learned not to ask the question again.
She’s learned a lot over the years, entertaining herself with her books, along with the benefit of her vivid imagination. She feels like life has been good to her, and the basement has taught her to appreciate even the smallest things in the world – the dash of sunlight on her skin, the taste of a crisp apple, the first moment she opens a new book.
But she can feel that things are changing, and she won’t let her fate be in the hands of others.
She will be in control of how her world will change.
She won’t let someone else dictate her fate.
She can’t let another man take her.
Tonight has to be the night that she faces her fears and runs to freedom.
Chapter 30
Three flashlights. Two backpacks. One gun.
The two men set off into the night, walking to their destination under the shroud of darkness. The wind howls around them, covering any other sound of the reserve.
A Time for Justice: A Legal Thriller (Bill Harvey Book 4) Page 13