Praise the Lord for that.
“Now sit down and tell me what’s bugging you,” she said, moving bags and girlie things out of the way.
“What’s bugging me? Try murder, mayhem, and a fine man.”
She chuckled. “I hear you, sis. Tell me all about it.”
“Why did you tell Jazz about Adam?” I should have asked what I really wanted to know, which was, why did you tell Jazz about the baby?
She scooted nearer to me and placed a hand on my shoulder. “He cares about you. He really does. I thought he should know why you stopped living.”
“Do I look like a corpse to you?”
She stroked my arm. “Not the kind that comes to me with a tag on its toe; but, sweetie, you haven’t put your past behind you in a healthy way. It changed you. You’re not yourself yet—and it’s been seven years.”
“Why does everyone want me to let her go?”
“I was talking about Adam. Who are you speaking of?”
My sister the doctor. She knew the wound reveals the cure, but I wouldn’t speak of it anymore. She didn’t push me.
“I had a fight with Jazz. I told him I didn’t want to see him again. Again.”
“He’s persistent, and why wouldn’t he be? You’re amazing.”
I pushed bags, but not merchandise, onto the hardwood floor. I rubbed the satin pajamas against my face. “Do you believe in love at first sight, Car?”
“I certainly did on your birthday.”
“Was I that obvious?”
“He was.”
“I’m a psychologist. I don’t believe in love at first sight.”
“And you’ve been crying for…what?”
“I’m in sin.”
She eased over to me and widened her eyes. “You slept with him?”
“No, but he stayed here last night far longer than I should have allowed him to.”
Carly shook her head and chuckled. “I think God can work with you on that one.”
“Every time I see him, we get more intimate.”
She pounced on me again for details. “Are you feeling each other up?”
“No. It’s just that…”
“You want to feel each other up?”
“Well, yes.”
She looked disappointed. “You know what that’s called?”
“Lust?”
She placed her hand on top of mine. “Try normal. I know it’s hard to do therapy on yourself, but if it were anyone else, you’d say this is a common reaction for two people who care about each other and find each other attractive. Seems to me like the most you two are doing is some hand-holding and talking.”
“He thinks he loves me.”
“And you think you love him.”
“It’s impossible.”
“Is it, Bell?” she said, reaching for the box of chocolates. “You’re a Bible girl; do you think David and Bathsheba had love at first sight?”
“I think it was lust at first sight.”
She opened the box and started looking over the selections. “But they did come to love each other,” Carly said.
I picked up my new pajamas and lay them across my chest, sinking into the cushions of my sofa. “So they eventually loved each other. Look what they went through. And speaking of David and Bathsheba, what if Jazz and I are merely sexually attracted to each other?”
“Bell, you’re always talking about love. You’re the love guru. Now you’re telling me that when you meet a man who gets your attention, it can’t be about love?”
“I just don’t want to be stupid.”
“Sometimes love is stupid. And reckless and irrational. I think you’re afraid of him.” She nibbled on a piece of dark chocolate. “Yum.”
“Yes, I’m afraid of him. I don’t want to be stupid, reckless, and irrational. I like how I used to be, before Jazz came into my life.”
“Can you calm down for a minute? Let’s just say the two of you started with love. You’re a loving human being, and so is he. For example, when I told him everyone who loves you calls you Bell, right away that’s what he called you.”
“He was flirting.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.”
“What’s your point, Carly?”
“My point is, maybe that’s a God thing. How do you know he doesn’t want what everybody wants—to love and be loved. Everybody needs friends and family. It’s not just sex people want.”
“I know, but…”
“But what? Are you disappointed that he could possibly just want to be your friend?”
I decided not to answer, nor to ponder that question deeply.
“I’m not the one who went to seminary, Bell, but I did read that love chapter in First Corinthians. What does it say in that Bible translation you like so much? I know you’ve got it memorized.”
“The Message?”
“That’s the one.”
“It’s a paraphrase by Eugene Peterson, not a literal translation.”
“Just quote it, girl.”
“It says, ‘Love never gives up. Love cares more for others than for self. Love doesn’t want what it doesn’t have.’” I nudged her. “See? I’ve messed up already.”
“Keep quoting,” she said.
“‘Love doesn’t strut.’”
“You messed that up on your birthday in that little red dress,” Carly teased.
We both laughed, and I continued.
“‘Doesn’t have a swelled head.’”
“Another strike against Bell. God is definitely winning here,” Carly said.
“If you don’t quit throwing stones at me, I’m going to stop this impromptu Bible study.”
“No, you won’t. You’re on a roll. Give me some more.”
“‘Doesn’t force itself on others.’ I almost violated that one last night, too.”
“Girl, spare me the details. If it had been me, I’d have on a scarlet letter this morning, and it wouldn’t be C for ‘Carly.’”
I laughed, thankful I didn’t have to wear a scarlet letter A that wasn’t for “Amanda.”
“‘Isn’t always “me first.” Doesn’t fly off the handle.’” I sighed. “I suck at love according to this, Carly.”
“I know, but keep going. You’re almost at the part that closes the deal.”
“‘Doesn’t keep score of the sins of others.’” I cleared my throat. “Add another strike against me, but I digress. ‘Doesn’t revel when others grovel.’”
I considered that one. I may not have slept with him, but based on this passage of Scripture, I still have a lot to repent about.
But I went on, The Message spanking me. “‘Takes pleasure in the flowering of truth. Puts up with anything. Trusts God always.’”
“Okay,” Carly said. “Stop right there. Repeat that last line.”
“‘Trusts God always.’”
“That’s what I’m talking about, boo. Why don’t you take whatever you feel, give it to God, and trust Him to keep you and Jazzy safe?”
“You sure you didn’t go to seminary, Carly?”
“I’m sure. But I did go to Godiva. So let’s get fat off those chocolate-covered strawberries.”
“Sounds like a God thing to me.”
“They didn’t name the place ‘God Divas’ for nothing.”
Carly was right. People do need love, friends, and family. Clad in my new-and-improved blue pajamas, after she left I basked in the afterglow of the sisterly fun we’d shared. God’s word softened my heart and tempered my worried thoughts.
I went into my bedroom and lay across my bed, smelling of peaches.
Love doesn’t fly off the handle.
It was late, nearly eleven, but I picked up my cordless phone from my night table, punched *67, then dialed Jazz’s cell phone number. That way, if I bailed, he wouldn’t know it was me who called. This maneuver is a primary in my arsenal. I had not completely surrendered my bag of tricks to God. It was part of my personal stash of manipulations I’d reserved for self-pre
servation—and I mean self-preservation in the bad way.
After the first ring, I hung up.
I dialed again.
Hung up again.
I repeated the sequence once more, in case I had any doubts about my capacity for being ridiculous.
Hearing a knock at my door interrupted this futile endeavor.
My heart caught in my throat.
Is that Jazz? Who else would it be at this hour?
My heart rate quickened, and I prayed that God would give me the strength to stay in godly love and remember the Bible study Carly and I had had earlier.
I opened the door, thinking to myself, If it is Jazz, he’s going to get mad because I didn’t say “Who is it?”
Rocky stood there, a manila folder in his hands and worry etching lines in his youthful face.
“Rock, come in. What’s wrong?”
“Susan Hines is gone.”
Chapter
Twenty-two
ISNATCHED ROCKY into my apartment as though he were my last chance for love.
“Nice pajamas, babe.”
“What do you mean she’s gone?”
“She split. Hit the road. Took off. Gone with the wind.”
“No more goneisms, Rocky.” I motioned to my dinette table. “Have a seat. Let’s see if we can figure out what’s going on.”
He settled into a chair and plopped the manila file he carried down on the table. “This is the information I got when she first came. It’s just emergency contact stuff and a few notes I took.”
“I saw her this morning, and she talked, but just for a few minutes.” I stopped, considering what I’d experienced. “How was her behavior the rest of the day?”
“As far as I know, she didn’t say anything to anyone else today, but she did seem unusually agitated. I figured she just stepped out to get some air or something, but when she hadn’t returned a few hours later, I got concerned.”
Rocky slid the file to me, and I opened it and pulled out her contact sheet. “Have you called any of these numbers?”
“They’re all wrong numbers.”
“What about her last known address?”
“She lists this one in Detroit as her most recent previous address and this one in Romulus as her present address.”
I looked at her contact information. The Detroit address was number 2345 on the same east-side street I’d been to. “This is Jonathan Vogel’s house.”
Shoot. Ready or not, I had to check with Jazz. And whether I liked it or not, I was stuck working on the investigation with him.
Rocky pointed to the Romulus address. “How much do you wanna bet this address is where she really comes from?” Rocky said. “Parents, maybe?”
“Or Gabriel.”
“She wouldn’t give us his address, would she?”
“She would if she wanted us to find him.”
His puppy eyes looked concerned. “Why would she want us to find him?”
“To save him. Exactly what did Susan say when she arrived at the Rock House? Did she say why she left the group?”
“She said someone she trusted told her about us and that things hadn’t been going well. She said she wanted to get herself together. The same kind of stuff anybody else would say.”
“Did she say someone she trusts or trusted told her about you?”
“I dunno. What difference does that make?”
“It can make a tremendous difference. Anyway, she told me Gabriel forced her to leave.”
He rubbed his hand over his chin. “Now that’s interesting. She didn’t tell me that.”
“Rocky, I believe she’s convinced that Vogel Senior wants to kill him. She’s not stable, and she’s still enamored with Gabriel. I found that out in our little chat today.”
“Whoa. You think she might try to hurt somebody?”
“I think she’ll do anything to protect him.” I paused momentarily to compose my thoughts. “If two men are dead, and she thinks she knows who is responsible, she might do something. Whatever the truth, there’s bound to be trouble brewing in Gabriel’s little paradise.” I drummed my fingers on the tabletop. My mind spun. “Parts of Romulus are rural enough to hide out in. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if that is where his lair is. I’m going to try and find her.”
“Bell, you’d better not go there on your own. Get dressed and I’ll go with you.”
“I’ll call Jazz to meet me.”
He responded with his “I’m not sure you’ll actually do that” puppy eyes.
I gave him my own version of “you have my word” puppy eyes. “I’ll be fine, Rock. Jazz won’t let anything happen to me. You go back to the house in case Susan returns.”
He hesitated.
“It’s fine. I’m going to call Jazz to meet me at that address.”
Still not convinced, he narrowed his puppy eyes at me.
I gave him my brightest smile. “I promise I’ll be good.”
He still didn’t look convinced, but he relented. I always wear Rocky down. “Okay,” he said. “You’d better call me. I want to be sure you’re okay. Susan, too.”
“I will, Rock. I’ll take my cell phone.”
“Babe, you and that cell phone are a bad combination. You’re always forgetting it, not turning it on, or forgetting to charge it.”
“I have it with me, on, and charged most of the time,” I protested.
“Yeah, if, in your world, thirty percent is ‘most of the time.’”
“I’ll take it with me and make sure it’s on, honest.”
He grazed his fingers through his hair, his blond spikes now styled in a tiny faux Mohawk. “Fine. I’m hoping it’s just her folks at that address.”
“She thinks Gabriel is her folks.”
Rocky massaged his neck. “If it’s Gabriel, let Jazz handle the heroics. Okay?”
“I’ll be careful, babe.” I jumped up and kissed my pal on the cheek.
A grin spread across his face and his cheeks colored. He usually loves it when I call him babe. “Don’t call me babe, Jazz’s girlfriend, and thanks for inviting him to church.”
“Don’t call me Jazz’s girlfriend, and I didn’t invite him. He showed up on his own.”
“Then you might want to take cover. God is doing something.”
Take cover, indeed.
I saw Rocky out, then I rushed into my bedroom to get changed. I went from blue pajamas to a conservative blue suit in record time. Thank God for the teeny-weeny Afro. I could make a quick work of hair grooming.
As I left, I locked my front door and said a little prayer for protection and guidance. I could hear my cordless phone inside the apartment ringing. I hoped it wasn’t the answer to my prayer, because, with Susan’s file and the MapQuest directions I’d printed tucked under my arm, I kept going.
Chapter
Twenty-three
AS SOON AS I HIT I-94 heading east toward Romulus, I dug around my favorite purse for my cell phone. I located it and flipped it open. The low-battery warning flashed on the screen, and I realized in my haste I’d forgotten the charger for my car.
Shoot.
I hoped I had enough charge to call Jazz. Even though it was after eleven, I figured Jazz would answer.
I still didn’t feel quite ready to talk to him, but Rocky was right, I didn’t need to go after Susan alone. Psychologist, heal thyself. I helped people sort through their problems for a living, but I couldn’t decide how to handle Jazz. Susan needed help, though. I had to put my nerves aside and make the call. I punched in his number.
He answered on the first ring.
“Aha. I got you this time,” his mellow voice said. “Are you ready to make up?”
“This is about business.”
“Is that why you called me and hung up three times?”
“How did you know it was me?”
“I’m a cop. I know how to find out who’s calling me.”
“That’s cheating.”
“I’m sorry about earlier
, Bell. I just want you to find some peace about your baby.”
My stomach flipped and dipped again. The truth: I had fallen in love with Lieutenant Jazz Brown, and I wanted to try to work things out, at least enough for us to be friends. “I’m sorry, too, but listen, about this business…”
“You just refuse to talk about her, don’t you?”
I sure did.
“Jazz, Susan Hines left the Rock House this afternoon. I have reason to believe she may be trying to find Gabriel.”
He swore. “She’s talking?”
“According to Rocky, I’m the only one she’s spoken to since she watched the news broadcast on Thursday and saw that Jonathan and Damon were dead.”
“I’ve looked up every Michael Wright around here. None of them are the cult guy. I don’t know where this guy is. Or who he is.”
A feeling—edgy and worn—settled on me. “It must be an alias. Susan left some bogus emergency phone numbers with Rocky.”
“Maybe they’re not bogus. Maybe she just hasn’t called them in a long time. What are they? I’ll run a check on them.”
I gave him the numbers from the file.
“Jazz, I’m in my car. She left two addresses. I’m sure one of them is the house where Jonathan Vogel Junior lived. The other is a place in Romulus.”
“Whose place is it?”
“That’s what I’m on my way to find out. It may be her parents, a friend…”
“Or a nutjob. Lucy, you’re not heading over there alone, are you?”
I laughed at his Ricky Ricardo imitation. “I want you to meet me. I think it’s imperative that we find her as soon as possible.”
The phone connection started to break up.
“Can you hear me, Jazz?” Something garbled.
Shoot.
“Can you hear me?”
I stared, disbelieving, at the dead phone and then tossed it onto the seat next to me.
If my MapQuest directions were correct, I’d be there in a few minutes. I chewed on my lower lip and pondered the possibilities—a family member or friend of Susan’s could live there.
Wright is still an option.
But, I argued, it was likely that Wright’s paranoia and narcissism had increased over the years. He would have diligently trained his disciples in the fine art of secrecy. Surely, Susan wouldn’t reveal his whereabouts.
Murder, Mayhem & a Fine Man Page 17