by Rich Foster
Gonzales went out to check the garage. When he returned he was carrying what appeared to be a length of pipe. He held it up. “Our boy cut the barrel off his shotgun.”
“Maybe it was back up for the Kellner killing?” suggested Conner. Gonzales shrugged.
They kept searching. Eventually Egan came back to the insulation. “Hey Luis! What do you think this wire is for?”
“There’s a spool of stuff like that on the workbench in the garage.”
“Anything with it?”
“I don’t know. I’ll go take a look.”
Gonzales came back into the house with the roll of wire. “Maybe he was fixing his toaster,” he said laughing.
Egan swore. “Aw, shit! He’s up to something a lot worse. This spool has, Property of Corbet Mills, stamped on it. They had dynamite stolen a couple weeks ago.” Egan rubbed his face where a headache was forming. “I better get the sheriff on the line, right now!”
Lester was well into his sermon. Sweat poured off his face, soaking his collar. His voice swelled and fell as he described how the Devil would stalk sinners. All would be tempted like Peter. How many would fall to temptation he asked?
The people in the audience were drifting in the heat. He leaned close to the microphone and shouted, “Three times he renounced his Lord!” Those who were nodding off were blasted back to alertness. He paused with his arm raised and three fingers in the air. He dropped his voice to a whisper, “and those who will deny God,” he hissed … “GOD WILL DENY!” he shouted. Again he slammed his fist down on the pulpit. Again he paused for effect. He pulled the silk handkerchief from his breast pocket and mopped his face.
To his annoyance he saw the double doors at the back of the sanctuary closing. Why, would Hugh close the doors on a night like this? He resumed his sermon.
A couple minutes later the whole congregation gasped. Everyone’s attention was shifted; the congregants were staring at something to the side and behind him. Leeds turned his head. Helen, the church organist, was seated as usual, but her head was tilted far back. The man standing behind her had a fistful of her hair in one hand and a pistol in the other. The gun barrel was pushed into Helen’s mouth. Lester recognized Goodman. His knees went weak from fear.
“Evening Preacher!” howled Goodman. “Don’t anybody move unless you want this lady to die.” He dragged Helen off the organ seat and out onto the stage. Helen struggled stay on her feet as Robert dragged her by her hair. Fear shook her as she choked on the gun.
“How dare you do this in the church!” Leeds exclaimed with genuine indignation.
Goodman jerked the gun out of Helen’s mouth. The muzzle broke one of her teeth. He jabbed the gun at Leeds’s head. “How dare I?” he roared back. “How dare you! You lying hypocrite!”
Leeds, fearful of the gun and Goodman’s charges fell to his knees shaking in terror. Before the whole congregation, the pastor wet his pants.
Robert was fueled on alcohol and hate. He had the power! Malevolence flowed from him. He returned the gun to Helen’s head while he slipped off his rucksack. A sawed off shotgun was slung in the external webbing. “One of you, by each window get up and close the window. If you try to jump out I’ll kill this woman. Her blood will be on your hands.”
The room was still except for Helen’s sobbing. Slowly six people rose and closed the windows. The wooden windows slammed closed with the finality of prison gates.
Herb Loudon, on the aisle toward the back of the church, hopped up and ran for the doors. He told himself he was being decisive by running for help. In truth, it was craven fear that drove him from his pew. He slammed into the crash bars. They did not budge. His face smashed into the heavy wood panels with a dull thud. The mayor of Mason Forks fell to the floor, unconscious.
“Brothers and Sisters,” said Robert, “I told you we aren’t going anywhere.” Using his free hand he opened the backpack and began to unload. He pulled out a cable lock. He tossed it at Leeds. Go chain the crash bars together on the doors. Leeds walked down the center aisle a destroyed man. He could not hide the fear in his eyes and he knew everyone there could see it. The front of his linen suit pants was sodden with urine. Lester chained the bars together. He thought of not closing the lock, but when he glanced back over his shoulder, Goodman seemed to know his thoughts, because he gently rapped the gun tip against Helen's head. Lester shut the lock.
Babies were crying in the church nursery. It was hot and like the grownups, they were uncomfortable. Fourteen-year-old Sally Kendal helped Mrs. Deitz with the toddlers. She tried to amuse a small girl who wanted her mother. In the corner, a black and white video feed brought the church service into the nursery, but the volume was turned down. With one eye she watched the service. They were having some sort of skit in the church. Liking theater, she regretted not being upstairs. A man was holding a gun. Sally reached over and turned up the volume, but the poor audio feed was hard to understand over the crying of the babies.
“Now I want Walter Swanson to come up here.” He rose slowly. “Come on up here Walt! I need your help.” Walter reluctantly walked up the aisle. “My lawyer told me during the trial just how helpful you can be when you’ve got a mind to.”
Robert pulled six bundles of dynamite from his backpack; a collective gasp ran through the church. Each bundle held four sticks taped together, with a blasting cap attached and a long coiled wire lead. Goodman lifted a plunger detonator from the pack and set it on the altar. Two wire leads ran to a buss bar. Robert shoved a bundle of dynamite into Walter’s hands; he then put the barrel of his gun against Walter’s forehead.
“Now Walter, wire that first bundle in.” With trembling hands Walter pushed the dynamite’s twin leads into the spring catch on the buss bar. “Now let’s see if you can do this without getting us all killed. I want you to take this dynamite over and put it at the base of that first column. We’re going to put one of these on each post holding up the roof.”
Walter screwed up his courage to speak. “Come on Mr. Goodman, you don’t have to do this,” he said with his hands outspread plaintively. Goodman’s eyes blazed. The gun moved. The roar of the blast left ears ringing, people screamed, as a bullet tore through Walter’s empty hand. If there were any doubts that Goodman was a serious threat, those doubts were gone.
Moments before the shot, Sally called Mrs. Deitz over to the closed circuit monitor. The older woman came over, rocking a baby in each arm.
“Look,” said Sally, “they’re having a play in the church.” Mrs. Deitz watched as Walter Swanson appeared at the front by the altar. A moment later she recognized Robert Goodman. She watched as Goodman moved the gun. The sound of the shot came through the floor. All the babies cried in unison.
“Oh my God!” she cried almost dropping the babies in her arms. “We need to call the police!”
“Why?”
“This isn’t a play! We need to get to a phone.”
Sally pulled a cell phone from her pocket. Mrs. Deitz dialed 911.
Outside of the church Hugh Johnson found himself laying face down on the pavement. He didn’t recall fainting. But what had happened? The last thing he remembered was ducking out into the parking lot for a cigarette. That was the main reason he volunteered to be an usher, so he could easily slip out if nature or a smoke called. Hugh sat up. The world rolled around before him. His head ached violently. He put his hand on the sore spot, when he brought it back down there was blood on his fingertips. Rising haltingly he stumbled into the church. His equilibrium was off. Perhaps, it was a stroke? Looking for help he went to the sanctuary doors. Strangely, there was a crow bar pushed through the two handles. Still confused, Hugh removed the bar and pulled on the doors.
Inside the sanctuary the rear doors moved. The panels opened a crack until the bike lock on the crash bars stopped them. At the altar, Robert swung his gun up and in one motion fired. The noise thundered through the church. A hole appeared high in the right door. Hysteria spread. “Stay seated!” Robert yelled.
He swept the congregation with the barrel of the gun. Slowly the pandemonium subsided.
Death missed Hugh by inches. He felt the air rush as the bullet passed his head. Small bits of wood struck his face. He tumbled backwards, spraining his wrist on the cold tile floor. From the sanctuary he heard screams. Making a hasty retreat, he scrambled toward safety and the phone in the church office.
“Now,” said Robert loudly sure that the people feared him. “Walt is going to help me and then we will have a talk.”
One of the elders stood. “What do you want?”
Robert let loose with a barrage of swearing that caused the man’s courage to wilt. He sat down again.
Reverend Leeds knelt next to the organist. Robert reached over Leeds’s shoulder and pulled the yellow silk handkerchief from his breast pocket. He tossed it toward Walter. “Wrap this around your hand. Then put these charges out.”
The shooting fed the blood lust in Robert. For the first time in his life he felt powerful and in control. People had to fear him or else. In his mind the members of the New Life Redemption Church became responsible not only for May and Lisa’s death, but for every miserable failing in his life.
Walter did as he was told. He felt sick. His hand felt numb, yet throbbed in pain. Blood dripped off his fingers, staining the carpet. As he worked to run out the wires he feared what would happen to him before the night was out.
Detective Patrick Egan spoke with Sheriff Gaines. They speculated about what was found in Goodman’s house.
“I think you better get over to the Haskell woman’s place. She was named in the original suit. Her husband was driving the bus. God knows what you may find if Goodman’s been there. She has kids.”
Egan flagged Conner over and told him to radio in for Calley Haskell’s address.
Gaines continued, “I think you better get over to the church, too. A man doesn’t need dynamite to kill just one or two people.”
Gaines was still speaking with Egan when Luis Gonzales interrupted.
“Pat, dispatch just called. 911 received two calls from the New Life Redemption Church. There’s a man in the sanctuary with a gun.”
“You hear that chief?” Egan said into his phone.
“Yea, I’m rolling. Go ahead and check out the Haskell house, and pray to God that Goodman hasn’t been there. I’ll radio in for a bomb squad. I should be on scene within fifteen minutes.” Gaines almost hung up before he added, “Call Rowley in, and tell him to bring his sniper rifle.”
Egan turned back to Mitch Conner. “Get over to the Haskell house. If this nut job has already been there you’re going to find bodies. But, at least we know where he is right now. Watch out for trip wires in the house. In fact, break a window to get in. Don’t use the door. We don’t know what Goodman’s plans were for the dynamite.”
The deputies spilled out of Goodman’s house and headed for the church. They turned on their lights and sirens. They wanted Goodman to know they were there. It might stop him from killing again. As they pulled into the lot Hugh scurried over.
“Someone’s in the church with a gun! Shot right through the door!” Egan saw blood on Hugh’s hand.” Are you hit?”
“No, but he nearly got me!”
“How many people are in there?”
“Church seats about two hundred fifty. It’s less than half full. A hundred, a hundred and twenty maybe?”
“A paramedic should be here soon. They can take a look at that cut. How many other entrances are there to the church?”
“Just a side door up behind the platform.”
“Who else is here?”
“That’s it, well except for the nursery, that’s in the basement.”
Egan sent Conner’s partner around to watch the door at the back. He and Gonzales entered the foyer of the church. Egan peaked through the bullet hole in the sanctuary door. He could see Goodman moving back and forth. Then he saw the detonator setting on the altar. He moved outside where he radioed in.
“We have a hostage situation confirmed at the New Life Redemption Church in Mason Forks. It appears the perpetrator is Robert Goodman. He probably has the building wired with dynamite. Roll everyone you can spare.” He turned to Luis. “We need to clear out the nursery. If this building goes they’ll all get buried.”
The two deputies re-entered the church. From the foyer, stairs led downward beneath the sanctuary. They came into short corridor with classrooms a large room at the end of the hall. They followed the sound of crying babies. The two officers swept into the room with guns drawn in combat positions. It was unlikely that Goodman had partners, but he and Gonzales took no chances. Sally and Mrs. Deitz sat fearfully in the corner. It took a moment for Egan to realize what they were watching on the monitor.
Gathering up the babies and letting the toddlers walk they were able to evacuate in a single trip. They hurried the kids outside where the sky was pink silk, with red and, orange ribbons in the evening light. “Pretty!” One child exclaimed.
“Take the kids down the hill to Abbey’s restaurant. Ask her to give them lemonade or something. I don’t want them near the church.” Egan said.
With the help of Hugh and several deputies, Sally and Mrs. Deitz moved the toddlers and babies down the drive.
From the distance came the cry of sirens. More squad cars and ambulances rolled into the parking lot. Gaines was one.
“Hello again, Pat,” he said, wearily. “This is becoming one hell of a night and it’s only eight-fifteen! What do we have?”
“Goodman has the church wired.”
“I heard that on my radio. So did every news group with a police scanner. They’ll be descending on us soon. Set up a perimeter.”
Egan gave orders to other deputies while Gaines rubbed his jaw. “How did you find out he wired the church?”
“I saw a detonator on the altar. We have a live video feed from the sanctuary down to the nursery in the basement.”
“That, I want to see.” Gaines turned to an idle deputy. “Get across the road to Hiram’s Hardware, break in the fastest way you can find. Bring me at least two hundred feet of coaxial cable and connectors.”
Gaines strode across the parking lot toward the church. He slowly circled the building hoping for an opening where a sniper could get off a shot. But all the windows and doors were closed. He entered the foyer. When he peaked through the bullet hole he could see Goodman pacing on the stage.
Gaines’s eyes roved around the foyer.
“See if there’s an attic above this part, or if there is any access from the bell tower into the sanctuary. We need to find a place where Rowley can set up for a shot.” Egan gestured to a couple deputies near the door. They spread out moving toward the bell tower.
When Egan and Gaines got back to their car Deputy Conner was waiting.
“It’s all clear at the Haskell place. No one’s around.”
“That just means she’s probably in there,” Gaines said sourly, nodding toward the church.
Inside the sanctuary the air was stifling. Two pole fans hummed, slowly sweeping the room, but they did nothing more than move around the odor of sweat and fear. Reverend Leeds shifted on his knees a destroyed and frightened man. Beside him the organist sobbed disconsolately. Walter was back in his seat a blood soaked jacket wrapped around his hand.
From outside the church came the sound of a voice on a bullhorn. “Robert Goodman, this is Sheriff Gavin Gaines, I’d like to talk with you. Why don’t you call me on anyone’s cell phone? Just dial 911 and they’ll patch you through.”
The people in the church turned their heads expectantly toward the door, hoping for rescue.
“You hope to be saved?” snarled Robert. “Are you all afraid to die? Don’t you all know that Jesus saves?”
His eyes held madness. Like a domesticated wolf that tasted first blood, he was now turned. He paced the stage. Gaines’s voice droned on outside.
“What about my wife? he bellowed. “Do you think she wanted to die? Wh
at about my daughter, do you think she wanted to go see your precious Jesus?”
He stared at the congregants. All who made eye contact with him broke it off. “You knew that bus was a piece of crap! You all let Lisa be run down like a dog in the street!” Spittle flew from his lips as he spat out the words.
“Who wants to go see Jesus tonight?” Robert grabbed a handful of Lester’s hair and jerked his head up. He put the cold barrel of the gun against Leeds head, and asked, “Who loves Jesus? Who’s willing to die tonight?”
Leeds trembled and began to mutter, “Oh my God, oh my God, no!” Robert aimed the gun at the audience. “What about you? Or You? Or you?” he asked as he swept the room.
He brought the gun back close to the reverend’s head. He pulled Lester’s hair back until Leeds was looking up at Goodman’s upside down face. Lester could feel the heat of Robert’s breath on his face. He could smell the odor of booze and dead cigarettes. Leeds felt the gun touch his right ear.
“What about you Reverend? Are you ready to die?” “No!” mumbled Leeds.
Goodman squeezed the trigger. The explosion ripped through the room. A hot blast burnt Lester’s cheek. A piece of his ear tore away as his right eardrum ruptured from the pressure wave. Overhead, a chandelier globe disintegrated. Glass rained down on those below.
Gaines, Egan and two deputies carrying a bettering ram sprinted for the church. The sheriff drew his service revolver as they dashed across the foyer to the sanctuary doors. He signaled for the men with the ram to wait as he peeped through the bullet hole. He saw both Goodman and Leeds whose head was bloody. Through the door he heard Robert’s clear voice.