by T. K. Chapin
CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
THE NEXT DAY, MY PHONE rang just after eight o'clock. Even though I had been up for a while, it was a bit early for a phone call on a Saturday morning. Wiping the grease from my hands in the shop, I tossed the rag to the workbench and picked up the phone. It was the police.
"You’re giving up?" I asked. My eyebrows furrowed and anger bubbled within me. "Really? You had a guy find an ammo shell from where the shooter was sitting, and there were traces of footsteps in my yard behind the garage."
"I know." The officer's response was short, but edged with an annoyance.
"Something the matter, officer?"
He cleared his throat. "My hands are tied here. I'm sorry."
Seeing something out the corner of my eye, I jerked my head over. I had to look twice as I thought my eyes were deceiving me. It was Maria in the doorway of my shop.
"Let me know if anything changes." I hung up the phone and crossed the shop floor over to her. Her eyes were red, swollen, and right then, I remembered she had known Charles when we were all in college. My heart broke with her and for her as we embraced in a grieved hug.
"I can't believe he's gone, Ron. You must be a wreck." She wiped her eyes and pulled back from our embrace.
Putting a finger to my lips, I guided her to the front yard. "It is sad, but he’s with God now so I'll be okay. How'd you hear about it?" I didn't want to give her too much information or it could unnecessarily put her in danger, and getting Emily’s mother killed wouldn’t be good.
"It’s all over the news, Ron. They didn't say the exact location, but they said he was out here in Mead on the news and released his name. I knew he had to be with you."
“What’d they say happened?”
“Still under investigation, but there was a shooting.”
I couldn't contain the dry laugh as I thought about how little investigating they were actually doing.
"What? You know something?" she grabbed my arm and said, "Tell me what you know, Ron."
Shaking my head, I turned and pulled away from her grip. "I have to get back to work."
Following behind me, she said, "Sure, always going back to 'work' when you don't want to talk about something anymore."
Stopping, I turned around and looked at her. "We're not married anymore, Maria. You don't get to talk to me like that."
"If I could go back in time and divorce you again, I would have done it sooner!"
“Now you’re just being mean, Maria.” I turned away from her and continued back into the shop to start replacing the oil pan on the Impala.
She darted over to me and blocked my path. Tilting her head, she said, "Maybe you should stop screwing with that cult. They’re obviously willing to kill anybody who gets in the way.”
“Like I told you before, Maria, I won’t stop until our daughter is out of there and safe. I don’t care what it takes. I will find a way.”
Side-stepping, I continued past her and got back to work. It was time to get my hands dirty. I couldn’t stop now. Not only did they have my daughter on a possible death row, but now they’d killed my best friend.
Maria left infuriated.
CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
THAT EVENING, AT ABOUT FIVE, I called it a day in the shop and headed out the door, flipping off the light switch as I went. Heading toward the front of the house, I was deep in thought over what my next move could be regarding Emily and getting her out of Lighthouse. Just as I came around the corner, I jumped seeing the detective sitting out on my front porch steps.
"You have some nerve coming around here," I said, furrowing my eyebrows as I met hers.
"You don't understand, Ron," she said gently as she stood and raised the corner of her jacket, revealing her badge. "I'm deep under cover. The station police officers don't know me. Henry has inside people there. We couldn’t risk it."
My chin dipped as I thought about the fact that I could've put her life in danger again and possibly gotten her killed if she were known at the station. It sounded a little suspicious, but I had no other choice than to believe her. She had given me no reason not to. Looking at her, I shook my head. "I'm sorry, Gloria."
She led me further out into the front yard and shook her head. "No, I'm sorry.” She rested her hands on her hips as she continued. “I should've explained that to you. I'm sure you felt dumb and freaked out at whom you’ve been communicating with when the cops told you they had no record of me."
"I did."
"How's your girlfriend? She been coming around here?" Gloria asked. "I told my boss about the letters and he was happy to get a date for the Cresting. We'll stop it from happening with that, but if we can dismantle this organization before then, that'd be best. We don’t know who all is involved."
"Of course." Shaking my head, I continued. "Teresa's suspicious . . . but look, detective." Shaking my head again, I struggled to put the words together. "I’m sure you know I just lost my best friend, and I'm not feeling like talking a whole lot."
She came closer, her eyes weighing heavy with some sort of understanding in them. "It's been one year since I loss Jessica. She was my best friend and in this cult too, just like Emily. Look, Ron." She brought a hand up and placed it on my shoulder and dipped her eyes to connect with mine. "It hurts to lose the people we love, but it's through taking this cult down that the loss of your friend and my friend won't be in vain. We can't let him keep killing all these innocent people."
My heart shuddered as I thought of the other night with Teresa. I had abandoned the distrust and let myself fall in love with her all over again. I felt conflicted, torn. Still, a part of me fought against all the evidence that was stacked against her. Seeing the desire for truth in the detective's eyes, I felt even worse. Those eyes weren't telling me lies, but I was telling them all kinds. I could see nothing but the truth and a desire for justice in Gloria’s warm and thoughtful look.
I sighed. “Okay. What do you want to know?"
"Where is Teresa right now? Tonight? You two are a couple, so why aren't you together on a Saturday?"
Glancing up for a second, I thought, then looked back at the detective. "It's the women's get together at The Onion."
"Go find out if she's there, and if she's not, call me and I'll help you get a trace on her cellphone." She let her hand fall to her side. "Listen, Ron. You can't go around talking about me to people. Anyone. There is a chance that anybody could be working for Henry. If he figures it out who I am, I'm dead."
"You said those who have died were all ruled suicides. Do you think he's capable of coldblooded murder?"
She frowned and didn't say anything for a second. "If they weren’t suicides, they are murder. You don't know this guy like I do. He might seem like just a kid, but he's done things that would give your nightmares nightmares."
"Okay." Glancing at my watch, I knew Teresa would still be at The Onion for a while longer.
"Let’s get going. Remember, if she isn't there, call me, Ron." The detective left, and I went inside to clean up from work and head into the city.
CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
MY NERVES SWEATED RIGHT THROUGH my button-up shirt I had on. After a long ten minutes of freaking myself out in the parking lot, I finally got out of the truck and went inside The Onion. The atmosphere was full of conversation and vibrancy as I entered through the doorway and came to the podium where a young hostess was standing.
"Hi. There's a group of women that comes in every Saturday, and I was just—"
"Oh, yes. I know them. Sweet ladies, big tips. I'll show you were they're sitting."
Following behind the hostess, I could feel my pulse race and my hand shake. I took a deep breath in, letting the smell of food fill my nose. Coming around a corner, I saw the group of ladies from church. My eyes bounced from familiar face to familiar face, and then I saw her.
"Here they are, sir," the hostess said, stopping and motioning with a sweep of her hand.
"Thank you."
My eyes conne
cted with Teresa’s, and she rose to come speak with me off to the side. Finding our way over to a quieter spot in the restaurant near the bar, we talked.
"What are you doing here, honey? What’s wrong?”
Rubbing my neck, I knew I had to lie, so I mixed a lie with some truth. "I wanted to see you. You know, I’m just so upset about Charles."
"I’m so sorry, honey." She adjusted her footing and gave me a hug. “You poor thing, I should’ve ignored you when you said you wanted to be left alone to work on your car.”
Shaking my head, I felt so bad for coming to the restaurant, for lying. A surge of pain sliced through my heart, knowing I had indeed deceived her. "No, honey. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have interrupted your ladies’ thing. I'll pick you up at 10:30 tomorrow for church. I love you." Leaning in, I kissed her lips and then left her and the restaurant behind me.
Finding Teresa there in the restaurant felt like confirmation that she was a good and honest person. I knew Teresa’s name was tied up with that cult, and those letters still didn’t paint a very good picture, but I didn’t care. Deep within me, I felt I knew better. There was no way she intended to hurt me or go through with the Cresting. Right?
CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
AFTER SUNDAY SERVICE THE NEXT day, baptisms were done. Teresa went forward. She wanted to declare the transformation that she said had gone on in her heart that morning during the sermon. Though I felt confident in her and our relationship last night when I left the restaurant, I began to wonder if she was trying to overdo it with this today.
She could have gone forward only because of my sudden appearance at The Onion last night—maybe she felt she was losing me? No matter how good I felt about her at any given moment, those letters were too hard to ignore. I couldn't pry that second letter about the progress she had made with me from my mind as I watched her wait in line to get baptized. What progress was Henry talking about? Did she know about all I knew and was just playing some twisted game? I prayed not.
The song, "I am a child of God," played across the sanctuary as people continued along the outside wall on the left to go up and get baptized on the stage. Mostly children were there, but there were also a few adults. One little girl stood out the most to me. She got baptized, and then right behind her was her father. I didn't mean to cry, but seeing a moment as precious as that stirred within me unspeakable joy, even though I was deathly conflicted with sorrow over situations in my life. Seeing a family join the family of God trumped my personal problems for the moment.
Seeing Teresa walk up the steps and over to the large metal oval trough filled with water, I prayed repeatedly that it was real, not for my own sake, but for her soul’s sake. She prayed with the pastors and took the dunk. Coming up out of the water, symbolizing herself as a new creation in Christ, she had done it.
Clapping, I looked at her on stage as she dripped with water. Our eyes met for a moment. She smiled and wiped her face with the towel that one of the associate pastors handed her.
She exited to the right of the stage, and I slipped out from my seat and joined her on the way down the aisle out of the sanctuary.
"Welcome to the family of God."
She smiled over at me. "Thank you." Leaning over, she kissed my cheek.
We came into the lobby, and Teresa went into the women's restroom to change into the pair of shorts and tee shirt that the church also provided. As I waited out in the lobby, I took a seat in a big, plush, comfortable chair and watched as the people flowed from the exits of the sanctuary. There were all types. Short, tall, fat, thin, young, old, tattooed, colored hair, and so on. So many people, but all there for one reason, for one purpose—Jesus.
Returning from the restroom, she looked lovely as her hair was wet and up in a messy ponytail. I rose to my feet and smiled as I escorted her to the parking lot. I was able to relax for a moment, hoping that everything I found out about her was a misunderstanding so we could look back on this as a joyful occasion.
Then as we walked out, I saw a man in all black near my truck. My heart raced as I recognized him from my property. "That's him! The guy who shot Charles!" I pointed toward the man.
"What’s he doing here?" Her voice trembled with fear as she came closer to me, grabbing hold of my arm.
"Probably not coming to church.” Pulling away slightly from Teresa, I shouted, “Hey!"
The masked man turned, made eye contact with me, and then took off in a dead sprint. Releasing Teresa, I tried to follow him, but he was too fast. Stopping to catch my breath near the end of the parking lot, a good sixty yards from my truck, I saw him jump a fence and then vanish.
"Call the police," I said back to Teresa as I stood upright, wiping my brow of the sweat. My eyes darted back to where I saw him disappear.
"Already on it," she replied.
Glancing over at her, I saw she already had her cellphone up to her ear.
Worry soared to new heights within me as I realized whatever the masked man was after wasn't satisfied with Charles’s death.
CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE
LEAVING MY TRUCK AT THE church, I rode with Teresa over to my house. I was worried that the guy who had killed Charles had done something to my car. Questions circled my mind on the rather quiet trip to my house. What is he after with me? Who is he? What does he know?
"You haven't said more than a few words, Ron. You okay?" Teresa's eyes were on me, glancing over in my direction every few seconds as she drove me home.
"I'm freaked out, Teresa!" I snapped. Calm down, I told myself as I took a breath. "That man had to have been screwing with my truck in broad daylight. I wish I could have caught him. He was fast, Teresa. Like a ninja assassin you see in a movie or something!"
She didn't reply, just kept driving. She didn't look happy.
I felt regret. I shouldn't have yelled. Rubbing my brow with a hand, I let out a sigh. "I'm sorry. I'm just stressed out. My daughter is in danger, and apparently, so am I."
"I know. I’m sorry you’re going through this."
I nodded. "I’m so worried."
“I’m sure the cops will find that guy. He couldn’t have gotten far.”
I laughed and turned, looking out the window. “Sure.”
The rest of the car ride was completely silent between us. How I wish I could just come out and ask her about the letters. Ask her what she was doing with me. Deciding against it, for obvious reasons, and making myself as comfortable as I could, I looked out the window and prayed. Please, Lord, I don't understand why everything in my life is going the way it is right now, but please help me take comfort in You, take comfort in Your truths, Your Love, Your understanding. It's through my faith in You that I can find rest. It's only through You that I can find the everlasting joy that endures forever. Help me stay focused on You. Amen.
CHAPTER SIXTY
COMING TO A STOP IN the driveway back at my house, I was about to get out of her car when Teresa grabbed ahold of my arm, stopping me. I turned to her, not able to look her in the eyes for long.
“What?”
"If you don’t talk to me, I can’t be here for you, Ron."
My eyes looked her over, and I felt my heart slipping in and out of love from one moment to the next, but the notes I had found in her house flashed through my mind in an instant. A ripping fear cut through my heart. "Just pray nothing happens to her."
With that, I got out of the car without a kiss, without a hug, without even so much as a goodbye. There was nothing more to say to her than silence. The sound of her wheels backing out of my driveway struck a deep, resounding fear in my chest. I didn’t know what she was going to do from here.
Peering to the left as I climbed the steps of my porch, I saw Charles's dried blood on a plank of wood. A part of me cringed. Feeling eyes on me, I looked up across the way to my neighbors’. A curtain fell back right then in a side window facing my house.
Someone was watching me.
Ignoring it, I went inside. I made a sandwich and relaxed i
n front of the television to try to distract myself from my thoughts. Then, a knock came to the door.
My heart dipped into my toes as worry filled me. Getting up on my feet, I stole a glance outside the window beside my chair and saw it was just my neighbor, Thomas.
Relaxing, a smile crept into my expression and I answered the door.
"Hey, Ron."
"Thomas."
He shook his head and laughed a little has he shot a finger back toward his own house. "I'm sure sorry about my wife. I don't have to tell you twice how they can grind on the nerves a bit. There was no need for her to go accusing you of murder, then on top if it, spyin’ on ya."
Raising a hand, I said, "It's okay."
"No, Ron. It's not. She ought not to accuse someone of murder before finding out all the facts. She just tried to tell me that the same lady who dropped you off just now was poking her nose around your place the other day when you were in town selling a car."
"Wait, what? Teresa was here the other day?"
"Who? I don’t reckon you ever introduced us to your lady friend, but regardless, my wife don’t know anything for sure! And anyway, I just want to say sorry for this problem she brought on ya."
My phone rang behind me, pulling me away from my thoughts. I was going to ignore it, but I remembered it could be the cops clearing my truck for driving. "I gotta get that, Thomas. Thanks for coming over. I appreciate it."