The Believer

by Kym Davis Boyles

  “At least he doesn’t give up easily,” Cai said aloud before realizing that she had.

  Delilah stared at her. “I outta call down there to the city manager and tell how he’s harassing you. He’s a married man and there got to be some code of conduct or something they have to live by.”

  “No, you will not.” Cai looked over at her mother, “I’ll handle it myself.”

  “That man’s evil,” Delilah commented with her pursed lips, not satisfied with Cai’s answer. “Don’t get caught up with the devil. You need to start going to church. JMC has helped us out a lot, at least go visit and introduce yourself to the pastor. He’s a good man.”

  Cai could feel her blood pressure rise listening to her mother; she was tired of hearing about the Lord and the church. “Momma, aren’t you tired of barely living? Don’t you think that you deserve more and that DJ deserves to have a place that’s bright and spacious where he can run around and be happy?”

  Delilah walked slowly to the sink and turned on the faucet to wash the bowl in her hand. “I got exactly what the Lord got for me and that suits me just fine.”

  Cai shook her head and sighed. “Well, it doesn’t suit me just fine.”

  “I hope that doesn’t mean that you’re going to follow up with that devil.”

  “Momma, I’m a grown woman and I can make my own decisions.”

  “I’m just trying to help.” Delilah continued to wash the bowl. “I just think that you need to concentrate on your future.”

  Cai smiled; the flowers had surprisingly brightened her day even if they were from the chief. With the box in her arms, she stood up then looked over at her mother. “You’re right momma, I’m going to do just that.”

  Chapter 18

  Leon was still standing in the front of the dull white classroom in the youth center with his hands free but purposely relaxed behind his back, feeling the same rush he felt when he used to stand in the pulpit. The joy of being in his element, similar to preaching in his church, almost surpassed the nagging nausea that grew at the thought of being placed back in handcuffs and put into the prison van to head back to his cell.

  Leon loved leaving the prison to speak. When he begged Flint to get him out of there, leaving to speak was the next best thing that Flint could come up with. The red tape that it took to get out was thick but Flint’s team worked hard to cut through it. One thing that everyone had in common, no matter their position, was a love for money. He learned that the warden was no different.

  “Pastor, you did a good job today,” Johnson complimented him as the last of the young men exited the large room.

  Leon looked over at the woman whose grey uniform blouse looked too tight across her bust and thick waist. It was the first time that she made conversation with him. She was usually quiet even after he had worked so hard to get her to warm up to him. He smiled at her, realizing that he was breaking down her arduous exterior. “I love doing this,” he said.

  “I can tell,” she responded.

  He had watched her; he had listened to her. She was smart and appeared educated and that impressed him. As far as looks, he considered her a struggling kind of pretty and far too heavy for his usual tastes; she was the type of woman that he would have never looked at twice or been attracted to ever outside of prison walls.

  “I just don’t want the kids to ever give up on their dreams.” He smiled. He was watching her and he sensed that she knew that he had been by her nervous disposition. “I guess a preacher has to be a good convincing speaker. I wish I had that kind of guts,” she continued. “I struggled with public speaking in college.”

  He could sense that even with the ability to intimidate inmates with the uniform she wore, she had no confidence behind it. “You should be confident, as pretty and smart as you are.” There, he had cast the line and now he just had to wait for the bite. “I wouldn’t have thought that about you.”

  Johnson looked at him then parted her lips to speak—

  “Are we almost ready?” Mattias interrupted, peeking inside the room with his scowled face of importance. Leon looked toward the door at Mattias. Leon took him to be the type to believe that his CO position in the prison was the closest he'd ever get to being a police officer. The interruption threw Leon off a bit and he couldn’t miss this opportunity with Johnson. He held his tongue with the young man, no longer in a position not to.

  “Almost,” Johnson responded to Mattias. Mattias nodded, remaining outside and focusing on whatever out there held his attention.

  “What’s your first name?” Leon asked the woman.

  Johnson blinked. “What?”

  “Johnson seems so harsh, what do your friends call you?” Leon asked, looking her in the eyes.

  Johnson shifted her balance, seemingly uncomfortable with his question. He waited to see if she would respond. “Charlotte,” she responded, still refusing to smile.

  Leon smiled. “Then I’ll call you Charlotte,” Leon nodded, “that suits you much better.”

  There was a brief moment of silence between the two as Leon watched her. She appeared uneasy. “I admire how you want to help young people,” Charlotte said, looking away from Leon and attempting to avoid eye contact.

  “Don’t admire me, Charlotte; I just do what I’m meant to do, encourage people, remind these kids that they don’t have to make bad choices.”

  She smiled at him. Leon stared at her. “COs do smile. I made you smile.”

  Charlotte continued to grin. “This isn’t a smiley type of job, Ladson. And I’ve never told an inmate my name before.”

  Leon watched her; he was making progress. “Then I must be special.”

  Charlotte looked away from him but it was too late. He had captured her and he knew it. “So why is a smart girl like you doing a job like this?”

  She looked embarrassed. “It’s not so bad. After I got my associate’s degree, I couldn’t find work in my field so I took what was offered to me. Now, six years later...”

  “Six years later, you’re here,” Leon said. “Wow.”

  “Yeah, are you ready?” she asked him.

  “Sure,” he lied; he was never ready and never would be ready to have cuffs put around his wrists.

  She placed her hands on the cuffs on her side. “We could use someone like you to talk to my nephew. He’s had some problems,” Charlotte said, approaching Leon. She walked up to him and grabbed his wrists. Leon smelled her. “What are you doing?” she asked, stepping back from him.

  “Smelling you; you smell nice.”

  At first she looked perplexed; unsure of whether to be offended or flattered. “Thank you,” Charlotte said, clearly uncomfortable in her response.

  Gazing at her, he held his hands up, ready for the cuffs. “Maybe I can be of some assistance and talk to your nephew if you want me to.”

  “I’ll see if my sister- in- law can bring him to one of your talks,” Charlotte replied removing the handcuffs from her side and preparing to put them on Leon. She paused, seeing the director of the program walk in.

  Mr. Lugo, a tall tanned Latino man walked over and held out his hand to shake Leon’s. “You have a powerful story, Mr. Ladson, and I thank you for coming to speak to our young men today. Perhaps a book is in order,” the man said with a thick Spanish accent.

  Leon smiled. Perhaps a book is in order. “Maybe I’ll look into that,” he responded.

  “Today was very beneficial to our young men,” the man said.

  “My pleasure, sir, young people just need to hear that someone cares and understands.”

  “I agree,” the man said with a large smile. “Well, until next time amigo, take care.” The man walked toward the door, nodding at Charlotte before opening the door and closing it behind him.

  Leon looked toward the door, hearing Mattias laugh loudly as he spoke to someone outside of the room. Leon looked over at Charlotte. “Thank you,” he said to her as she placed the first cuff on him.

  “For what?” she asked. />
  “For not cuffing me in front of him,” Leon said, “just allowing me to maintain some sense of dignity.”

  Charlotte nodded. “They don’t need to see everything. Besides, you’re always on your best behavior and I appreciate that.”

  Leon smiled, looking into her face. She noticed and averted her eyes shyly away from his. Leon bent down to look her in the face as she tried not to make eye contact with him. “Has anyone ever told you how beautiful you are?”

  Charlotte blushed as she secured his cuffs.

  Leon grinned. “Are you embarrassed? You do know that you’re beautiful, right?”

  Charlotte continued to stay focused though Leon could tell that it was becoming more and more difficult. He knew he was taking a chance; maybe what he sensed as her vulnerability actually wasn’t. He could always have called it wrong. Leon looked to the door to make sure that the little boy CO wasn’t about to walk in. Leon looked back at Charlotte, holding his cuffed hands out, then abruptly leaned forward and kissed her on the lips. The kiss was a slow peck but he knew by the widening of her eyes that it took her completely by surprise. Watching her baffled expression in reaction to his kiss caused Leon to smile. Still in cuffs, he winked at her before backing up toward the door, pushing it closed and locking it. He watched her. She stood frozen, unable to move, not particularly frightened but vulnerable.

  He hoped that she wouldn’t scream as he walked toward her. She didn’t. He approached her slowly and then aggressively pushed her body up against the wall as his mouth tasted her lips, her face and her neck. His ribcage hitting her body hard almost caused him to holler out in pain from his recovering injuries but he chose to ignore and endure as necessary. He took his mouth off of her then looked her in the eye. He held his cuffed wrists up high in front of her face. “Take them off,” Leon said.

  Taking deep nervous breaths, Charlotte fumbled nervously with her keys and inserted them into Leon’s cuffs. The cuffs dropped to the floor as Leon grabbed her face, kissing her on her mouth and neck. Leon watched Charlotte throw her neck back and close her eyes relishing every touch, wanting more of him. He hurriedly unbuttoned her gray state issued correctional blouse. Yes, he had called it correctly.

  Chapter 19

  With Ben sitting beside him on the passenger side of his truck, Greg drove according to the electronic navigation system's instructions toward Delilah’s house. The closer they got, the more familiar the area became. Greg knew this side of town and the neighborhood they were entering very well from his days on patrol. It was among the worst in the city, known to be drug and gang infested with no shortage of drama. Greg recalled the slew of phone calls from residents who were too afraid to leave their homes for fear of gang violence.

  “Boy, after all of my hard work, look where I end back up at,” Ben said looking out the window.

  Greg laughed. “Graduating to the Department of Criminal Investigations doesn’t mean you can’t ever go back, my friend.”

  “Some things I want to forget,” Ben said looking around as he rode. “Remember that big bust we did in this neighborhood?”

  Greg let out a deep disappointing breath. “That was a crazy night man,” Greg said, glancing over at Ben.

  “You’re telling me,” Ben said, staring out as they passed the houses with empty bottles and trash in the yards. “All of that hard work to see it disappear into thin air.”

  Greg nodded, remembering the fallout from the drug bust. “Yeah, that was a hard pill to swallow,” he said, continuing to follow the automated voice of the navigation system.

  Ben frowned at the thought. “We worked so hard on that case and James gave it up talking about how we mishandled evidence and there was no way we could get a conviction. We did everything by the book and he knows it. I’ll never be able to wrap my head around that one.”

  “Me neither but we did our job and that’s the most important thing.”

  Ben glanced over at Greg. “I know you think I just have something against the guy but I didn’t trust him when I worked under him and I don’t trust him now.”

  Greg raised his eyebrows as he continued driving. “You made that clear.”

  “Look,” Ben said, “I consider myself a struggling saint. I haven’t been saved as long as you so I got some of my old ways and I can admit that. All I know is I’m saved by the blood of Jesus but I know a liar and a schemer when I see one and I’ve always seen that in him.”

  Greg shrugged. “What do you want me to say, Ben?”

  Ben threw his hands up in frustration. “I don’t want you to say anything but I want you to open your eyes and see people for who they are, man.”

  “My eyes aren’t closed. I just choose to give people a chance because God gave me so many.”

  Ben shook his head. “You don’t think people run out of chances?”

  Greg sighed. “Maybe they should but God doesn’t have that restriction on us so I choose to give the chief the benefit of the doubt.”

  “You sure that’s it?”

  Greg glared over at Ben. “What does that mean?”

  “I mean you’ve got a soft spot for him because he’s black.”

  “What?”

  “Come on man; don’t forget I know you very well. James is a black man who worked hard against the system to get where he is and you don’t want to take that from him. I get that but the problem with that is it makes you blind to who he really is.”

  Greg shook his head. “That’s not true. Race and color don’t matter to me. You know that.”

  Ben shrugged. “I thought I knew that but you let this guy get a pass for some reason. So what if he joined the church and became a trustee? He wouldn’t be the first snake to infiltrate the church. Didn’t you learn that from Leon?”

  “We’re not going to do this now,” Greg said, “we’ve got a more pressing issue.”

  “I’m just trying to figure out why you don’t see it? It was never suspicious to you that he lives like a rock star? What police chief can live like that?”

  “Now, you’re stretching because Victoria has money,” Greg said.

  “Maybe you’re right, maybe I’m making it all up,” Ben said.

  Ben looked over at Greg then turned and looked out the passenger side window. Greg remained silent as he pulled his truck up to the small beige house with bars on all of the windows, worn vinyl siding and crooked unhinged window sills. The lack of maintenance was typical of the houses in the neighborhood. They were desperately in need of extensive repairs if not complete demolition altogether. On the beige house’s unkempt grass were large dirt patches and an old faded blue Mazda. Greg noticed the brightest spot of the struggling yard and that was the small red and yellow riding toy in the walkway.

  “How’s Ms. Rice holding up?” Ben asked.

  “I’ve spoken to her every day and this is the first day that she didn’t turn me down when I asked to visit.” Greg thought about his visit to the morgue with Delilah. “I tell you man, as a pastor, I’ve seen a lot of things but I’ll never forget the way she screamed when she saw Devon in that morgue. I have no words for that.”

  “That’s rough,” Ben said, continuing to look out the window. “But living in this neighborhood, he might not have ever had a chance.”

  “Well, he certainly wasn’t given the chance,” Greg said, turning the truck’s ignition off.

  Ben unbuckled his seatbelt. “It always amazes me that gangs fight for territory in the poorest of the poorest neighborhoods.”

  Greg nodded. “Trying to get rid of them is like trying to stomp out a thousand roaches.”

  “Exactly,” Ben agreed as he opened the heavy passenger side door which squeaked loudly. “When are you going to get rid of this old heap of junk and step into the 21st century?”

  “When you stop rooting for the Yankees,” Greg answered with a sly grin.

  “That’ll be a cold day…”

  The men laughed as they approached the house and Greg pushed open the creaky short m
etal fence. They walked up the concrete steps to the front door, searching for a doorbell. There was only a faint light where the doorbell button should have been so he knocked on the door instead. No answer. Greg knocked again, trying to decide how long they should wait. “She was expecting me so not sure what’s going on.”

  “Maybe she’s asleep,” Ben said, looking nervously behind him around the neighborhood.

  “We can come back,” Greg said turning to walk off when the door opened.

  Greg turned around to see Ms. Delilah wearing a multi-colored striped house dress, standing and staring out at them as if not expecting them even after having spoken to Greg just three hours earlier.

  “Yes?” the woman asked them. Delilah looked as if she hadn’t slept in days and Greg figured that there was a good chance that she hadn’t. He placed his brown leather bound bible under his arm and extended his hand out toward the woman. “Ms. Delilah, is this still a good time to visit?”

  “I’m sorry, it slipped my mind that you were coming.” She looked over at Ben. “Hello. I seen you before.”

  Greg turned slightly in Ben’s direction. “You may remember him from the church. This is my good friend, Officer Ben Donati.”

  Ben extended his hand toward her. “How do you do, Ms. Delilah?”

  Delilah looked around the two of them out at the street as if to ensure that they were alone. “I’m fine,” she answered before pushing the screened door out for them. “Come on in.”

  “I never said that my boy was perfect pastor, but I’m saying that he had plenty of friends and I ain’t never heard of nobody not liking him,” Delilah said in her slight southern twang while walking slowly toward them from the kitchen. “When I got sick, my boy worked hard for all of us. He loved his baby and he wasn’t involved with no gangs, I don’t care what nobody say.”

  Delilah placed two red plastic cups of ice water on coasters in front of them on the coffee table.