by David Archer
Indie had eaten a little earlier, but she made herself another egg and some toast, and sat down to join him as he ate. She smiled at him when he moaned in delight at the flavor of the steak.
“I'm glad you like my cooking, Mr. Prichard,” she said, and he nodded emphatically. “Good,” she added, “because you’re stuck with me! I've got a piece of paper that says you can't get rid of me, no matter what!” She pointed to where she had hung their framed marriage license on the wall over the table. “That's why I hung it up there, so you'd never be able to forget it!”
Sam smiled. “Baby, trust me, I could never forget! That was the most wonderful day of my life.”
They looked at each other, both of them having the same thought at the same time. “Sam,” Indie said first, “could that be what he meant? Your 'current' life—could he be talking about our wedding?”
Sam sat there for a moment, thinking, and then his eyes lit up. “I don't think so, but we're on the right track. My 'current' life began when I was shot, and lost my job as a cop, I think. If that's it, then it would be back where that happened, that warehouse downtown.”
Indie was quiet for a long moment. “I don't like it, Sam, I don't like the idea of you going in alone to face this guy. We know he's a killer, and a deadly shot, and now he's not even bothering with the 'one shot, one kill' idea; I'm scared, Sam.”
He started to smile, but then decided she deserved his honesty. “So am I, Babe,” he said. “But I'm more scared of him getting away. If he does, we'll never be free of him. We'll always be looking over our shoulders, and we can't keep bodyguards around every day for the next twenty years or so. I've got to go and face him, Babe, but we'll do it my way, this time.”
She looked into his eyes. “What's your way?” she asked.
Sam smiled, then. “This time, just as I go in, I'm gonna call Karen and let her know where I am and what's going on. That way, he can't escape; they can surround the building quietly while he and I are inside, and then announce. Between us, we can take him down.”
She nodded, clearly not satisfied, but happier than she had been before. She rubbed her arms as she sat there looking at him. “Whatever makes it so you come home to us, that's all I want. Okay?”
“I'll come home, Baby. I've got way too much to live for, and I can't imagine God would give me such wonderful gifts as you and Kenzie, and then let anything permanent happen to me.”
She leaned over and kissed him, and Kenzie chose that moment to come running into the room. “Mommy, Daddy, you gotta come see! You gotta come see what Samson can do!”
They both got up from the table and followed Kenzie into the living room, where they found the cat perched on top of the long curtain that hung over the picture window. He seemed quite proud of himself for being there, but a bit confused as to how to get back down, and Sam and Indie both laughed as Samson meowed at them in what was easily translated as, “Help!”
Sam reached up and got hold of him by the scruff of his neck and brought him down, taking a moment to hold him and rub his ears. The cat snuggled into him and began to purr.
“Samson,” he said. “You've just learned a valuable lesson. Sometimes, no matter how tough we think we are, we need help to get out of a bad situation. Now, if you're as smart as you think you are, you'll remember that and stay off the curtains!”
“And if he's as silly as I know he is,” Indie said, “then he'll be right back up there in about ten minutes, whining for you to come help him down.”
Sam smiled. “Maybe,” he said. “But he'll learn. Cats are like people that way; they eventually do learn from their mistakes.” He handed the cat back to the little girl. “Here, Sweetie, try to keep him down off the curtains, okay?”
“Okay,” she said, but Sam had a hunch he'd be rescuing the cat again before long. He and Indie went to the kitchen and sat down at the table again.
Indie looked at him for a moment, and then said, “Do you have any idea how much I love you?”
Sam smiled. “I know how much I love you, and that's all I can think about.”
She smiled back, but it didn't last long. “So, you think it's the warehouse he's talking about, then?”
“I do,” Sam said, “but I wish I could figure out how he knows so much. It's like he knows everything about me, and I can't imagine how anyone could know so much, when I'd never met him before yesterday.”
Indie shrugged. “There's been a lot about you in the newspapers, lately. Some of the stories might have mentioned you getting wounded that day, how that's what led to you becoming a PI.”
“Maybe,” Sam agreed. “Still, he knows who I talk to, where I go, even when I talk to the cops. Could he be bugging my phone?”
“I guess it's possible,” Indie said. “I know how to clone a phone, and then I can hear everything that goes through it. It's like picking up an extension, you can listen to both sides of a conversation.”
“I wonder if Unger would know how to do that.” Sam chewed his cheek for a moment, deep in thought. “There's still so much we don't know about this guy. I wonder what Herman can find on him?”
Indie shrugged. “Since we know who he is, I hadn't thought about it, but let's go see.” They got up and headed for the office after peeking in on Kenzie. The little girl and the cat were both on the couch, and both staring at the TV, where a cartoon cat was trying to catch a mouse that was smarter than he was.
“That's me,” Sam said as they walked through the hall to the office. “I'm the cat, and Unger is a really big mouse.”
“Then we need to build a better mousetrap,” Indie said. “I want this guy caught, and fast.”
“Ditto,” Sam said as they sat down at her desk. “So, where do we start?”
“Well, we'd made some notes when we were trying to figure him out. We decided he must have money, and someplace where he could practice his drive-by shooting skills. Let's see if any of that fits Unger.” She tapped the keyboard for a moment, and then waited. A few seconds later, Herman went ding, and the screen began to fill up with links.
There were a few news stories about Darrell Unger, most of which talked about various philanthropic works he'd been involved in. He was definitely wealthy; his father had been one of the founders of a large company in Denver, and he still owned a substantial portion of it, even though he didn't work for it. His net worth was estimated at around forty-five million dollars, and he was known to be a generous benefactor to several local charities and hospitals.
Unger lived in a high-scale gated community, but in the links Herman had found, there were several references to other land holdings. One of them was a large section of land outside of the county, almost twenty thousand acres that he reportedly used as a private hunting preserve. Sam pointed at the screen. “If we had time, I'd bet I could go out there and find targets set up around a road. That would be where he'd practice his shooting. He might be out there now, laying low, but I doubt it; he's hiding someplace that no one would connect to him, you can bet on it.”
Indie nodded. “And look at this one,” she said, clicking another link. “He's known for his big appetite, and loves to visit different restaurants each day. Check the photo.”
Sam leaned in and looked, and saw a photo of Unger posing at the door of a well-known eatery, and instantly saw what Indie was getting at: he wore a pair of nice dress gloves on his hands, even though the picture was taken in early May, when it wouldn't have been very cold.
“No doubt this is our guy,” Sam said. “I just wish…
“Whoa!” Indie said suddenly. “Sam, look!” She pointed at the screen, and a news story.
The picture was of a woman, and was about fifteen years old. The caption under it read, “Louise Unger Victim of Shooting.” The story underneath it told more, and Sam began to read.
Police in Denver County are investigating the shooting death of Louise Unger, wife of local businessman Darrell Unger. Mrs. Unger was killed last night while riding a horse along Highway 83, not far
from her home, and was apparently the victim of a random shooting. Police are searching for witnesses, and anyone with any information is urged to contact Sheriff's Office.
Darrell Unger was in Los Angeles at the time of his wife's death, police say, and was reached early this morning with the news. He flew home immediately to meet with his wife's family.
Mrs. Unger is survived by her husband; her mother, Diana Jacobs of Denver; and one brother, Daniel Jacobs, also of Denver. Funeral arrangements will be announced.
“Holy—Darrell Unger was Danny Jacobs's brother in law! I knew Danny'd had a sister who was murdered, that was why he joined the force, but I never knew anything about her. If he and Unger had stayed close...”
“Then that might explain how he knew so much about you, at least until...”
“Yeah,” Sam said, “until Danny got killed. But Danny knew a lot about me, and if they talked about any of it, he could have a fair amount of info about me in his head.” Sam sighed. “I think I'm right,” he said. “It's gotta be the warehouse. It's closed down, still; no one uses it for anything. It's where my old life ended, that’s for sure, so it could be said it's where my new life began. It's the perfect place for the endgame.”
Indie looked up at him. “Endgame?”
“The last moves, like in chess. When you're wrapping up the game, that's the endgame. That's what Unger's trying to do, play out the end of it. He wants to get killed, I think, or else kill the person he thinks is good enough to take him down.”
“You,” Indie said, staring at him.
“Me,” Sam answered. “That's why I'm changing the rules. If I let Karen know just as I go in, there won't be time for him to get away. I can keep him busy, while she and the police surround the place; then, when they come in, there won't be anywhere for him to go.”
She sat there and looked at him for another moment. “God, Sam, I hope you're right.”
They both jumped as Sam's phone rang. He looked to see that it was a call from Porter's church.
He touched the button to answer it on speaker. “Hello?” he said cautiously.
“Sam? This is Caleb Porter calling.”
Sam smiled into the phone. “Hey, Caleb,” he said. “How're you doing?”
Porter laughed, but it was tinged with irony. “Well, I've had better days. I wanted to call and thank you for having your wife call and warn me last night. When she said it was Darrell, I was rather disbelieving at first, I'm afraid, but the more I thought about it through the night, the more I came to accept it. Darrell's been a little odd the past week or so, and one of the things I remembered is that he made the comment just the other morning that none of us know how long we've got on this earth except for God and Death. I thought at the time that was a strange thing for a Christian to say, but if he's actually who you say he is, then he might see himself as Death for his victims, don't you think?”
Sam nodded. “I think you could be right. We know that he tends to use a single shot, as if he's proving to himself, or to someone, that he's so good at what he does that it's all he needs.”
“Yes, there's an article in the Sunday paper about the killings that are being linked to him. So many of them, I was just shocked. Darrell has always seemed one of the nicest men I've ever known. We just ordained him a Deacon a couple of months ago.”
“I knew he was a Deacon,” Sam said, “but I didn't know it was so recent. When he met me at the door of your church the other day, he mentioned that he was.”
“Well, it just goes to prove that we never know about people, do we? No matter how well we may think we know someone, we can't see what's in their hearts; only Jesus can do that. We can only pray for him, and of course, pray that he gets stopped before anyone else dies.”
“True,” Sam said.
“Listen, Sam, that was one reason I called, but the other is to invite you to come to church this evening. I was hoping you'd be there this morning, but when I didn't see you, I decided to call and ask again. I'll be preaching on Cain, who murdered his brother Abel; I think it's an appropriate premise for today, don't you?”
Sam glanced at Indie, and she nodded. “I think it's perfectly appropriate,” Sam said, “and I think you can count on us being there.”
They could hear the smile in Porter's voice. “That's wonderful, Sam, I'm looking forward to seeing you and meeting your family. Be sure to catch up with me, please?”
“Sure will,” Sam said. “We'll see you this evening.” He hung up the phone and put it away.
Indie smiled at him. “You okay with this? Going to church, I mean?”
Sam smiled and nodded. “I'm fine with it, Babe. Part of having a family is making sure they get everything they need, and I know you and I both believe in God, in Jesus. I think it's time we took Kenzie to church.”
Indie leaned back into him. “They have a special church service for kids, and I'm sure she'll like it. They start at six, so we probably should start getting ready a little early. You want to eat dinner before we go, or after?”
“Are you kidding? I just had breakfast a half hour ago, and it's almost two, now. I couldn't eat anything that soon, so I'll go for after. How about Kenzie, has she eaten?”
Indie nodded. “Breakfast and lunch down at Anita's, and I'll give her a snack before we go, to tide her over. She'll be fine.”
They went back into the main house and found Kenzie sitting on the living room floor, looking up at Samson on top of the curtain again. “Come on, Samson,” she was coaxing the cat. “Just jump, I'll catch you!”
Samson spotted Sam and Indie, and began meowing loudly. Sam sighed and reached up for the cat, who let himself be picked up again, and then handed him back to Kenzie.
“Okay,” he said, looking sideways at Indie, “maybe he isn't all that smart after all.”
7
Sam, Indie and Kenzie climbed out of the Ridgeline, their truck, in the front parking lot of the church, in an area labeled “Visitors.” Sam glanced at the big Chevy Tahoe that had followed them in, and nodded at the two big men who rode in it, but they just looked at him and sat there, parked a couple of spaces over from the Ridgeline. He shrugged and led his family into the church.
The place seemed different, this time, with people everywhere. Two gentlemen met them at the door and led them to the sanctuary, which was nicely built in what used to be one of the big assembly rooms, from when the building was a factory. It was large, capable of seating more than a thousand people, and even though they had gotten there a little early, there were many people already seated.
“I'm a little nervous,” Sam said to Indie as they dropped Kenzie off at the children's church in another large room. “I haven't actually been to a church service in several years. I think the last time was when Mom was dating a man who was a gospel singer, about ten years ago. They talked me into going one night to hear him sing. Man, what a voice!”
Indie smiled up at him. “Somebody famous?” she asked.
Sam shook his head. “Nope,” he said, “but he could sing! When he did Amazing Grace, it sent chills down your spine.”
“Hmm,” she said, still smiling. “Wonder how you'd sound on that one?”
“Maybe one day we'll find out,” Sam said. “I'll ask the band how they'd feel about it.”
They found seats near the back of the room and sat. Several people sitting close by came over and welcomed them, and a few of them recognized Sam's name. The new article that morning had mentioned his involvement in the case, and a couple of people seemed less glad to see him once they knew who he was, but most only said how awful they felt that their deacon was turning out to be such a man.
“I've known Darrell for four years,” said one man, “and I never would have thought he had it in him to harm a fly. You just never know about people, do you?”
“I'm afraid not,” Sam said. “I was a policeman for several years, and I never did get used to finding out what people are capable of.”
Someone began to play a bit
on a piano, and everyone hurried to take their seats. A man came to the pulpit and smiled.
“Isn't it good to be in the house of the Lord tonight?” he asked,
A number of people called out, “Amen!”
The man picked up a book and said, “Our first song tonight will be number one seventy-two in the Blue Book, Blessed Assurance.”
The pianist began to play, and everyone began to sing.
Blessed assurance, Jesus is mine,
Oh, what a foretaste of Glory Divine…
Sam and Indie sang along, reading the words not from a hymnal, but from a screen behind the pulpit, where a projector displayed the words for everyone to see. Sam glanced around to find that most of the people were doing likewise, though a few were holding books in their hands. They finished that song, and then two more, and then the offering plate was passed around. Sam put a fifty in it as he passed it to the person to his right.
After the offering, a young woman got up and sang Amazing Grace—Indie nudged Sam and grinned—and then Caleb Porter stepped up to the pulpit.
“So good to see you all this evening,” he said. “It's always good for my heart to know that people are here to listen to an old sinner, saved by Grace, share the Word of God, because guess what? Every preacher you'll ever see, every pastor you'll ever hear, everyone who stands up to preach the Gospel and teach the Word—every single one of us is a sinner saved by Grace.”
There were a few Amens from around the room, and Porter smiled. “Tonight, I'm going to tell you a story, a story from Scripture. It's actually a pretty short story; it's just sixteen verses long. It’s one that most people are familiar with, and you’ve most likely heard it dozens of times.
“It's a story about a murder, and yet—it's about a lot more than that. With the things that are happening in our community, nay, right within our very church, right now, I think this is a fitting message for tonight. I know that some of you are pretty upset about what's going on with our Deacon Unger, and the fact that we've learned something disturbing about him, but I think that God has allowed this to happen in our church so that we can learn something from it, and I believe He put it on my heart to bring this message tonight.