Servant

by J. S. Bailey

  As soon as she held the phone to her own ear, Graham lifted the gun and pointed it at her.

  “—ello?”

  Lupe’s pulse quickened, and she prayed that her manager would detect the fear in her voice. “Valerie? It’s Lupe. I—I can’t come in today. I’m sorry about the late notice, but when I woke up I didn’t feel so well and I don’t want to make anyone else sick. Do you think you can get someone to cover for me?”

  Her manager’s tone was sympathetic. “No worries, honey! I can ask Shelly or Marge if they can come in instead. I’m sorry you don’t feel well.”

  Lupe muttered a few words of false thanks and ended the call before Valerie started recommending a dozen different home remedies that would ease her discomforts. She didn’t want a prolonged phone call to give Graham an excuse to shoot her.

  Graham gave a curt nod and put the phone into his pocket. “You’re cooperating better than I expected you to.”

  “Do I have any other choice?”

  He didn’t answer. Instead, he went to the refrigerator and opened the door. “Juice?”

  Lupe sat down at the table. “Yes, please.” She kept her gaze fixed on him while he poured her a glass of orange juice and set it on the table. “Thank you.” She took one small sip and set the glass aside. “Aren’t you going to let me eat?”

  The old man grunted and turned to the corner pantry. He brought out a package of cinnamon Pop Tarts and shook it as if he were enticing a dog with a box of biscuits. “Is this fine?”

  Lupe hated Pop Tarts, but she wasn’t going to be picky, especially when it might be the last meal she had for a long time. “Yes. Thank you.”

  Graham raised a quizzical eyebrow and tossed a silver packet of the pastries at her. She caught it and tore it open.

  “You’re up to something,” he said as she began to eat. He sat down across from her, still holding the gun; only this time he had the barrel angled toward the table instead of at her.

  She gave him a smoldering glare. “Of course I’m up to something. I’m being held captive against my will, and I would love to find a way to escape that won’t get me killed.”

  Graham’s wrinkled face cracked into a grin and he laughed until tears sprang into his eyes. “You seem to have regained some spunk, haven’t you? As soon as Randy is dead I’ll let you out of here, and you can be free to do whatever you like. Go home. Go to work. Cry over his lifeless corpse, for all I care.”

  Lupe narrowed her eyes as a new idea occurred to her. “I don’t think you really want to kill him,” she said.

  His cheeks darkened. “And why is that?”

  “Because you’re afraid of him. You’re afraid of what will happen when he dies.”

  “You’re sadly mistaken.”

  “No, I don’t think I am.” She drilled her gaze into his, praying that some remnant of the Servant Graham had once been would awaken and cast this monster away. “The first time, you couldn’t even shoot him right. The second time, you made me cut his brake lines because you were too afraid to do it yourself. What will it be this time? Are you going to ask your ‘friend’ to murder Randy for you?” Even though she could tell she was angering the man, she found herself unable to stop. “You’re an old coward. You can kill innocent people like Mary just to satisfy your curiosity, but when it comes to someone you know, your blood runs cold. You make other people do your dirty work when you don’t have the guts to do it yourself. You’re pathetic. You know what? I wonder what God thinks about all this. You used to be his chosen Servant, and now you’re this . . . this old thing that should never have been born.”

  At first Graham just stared at her, a vein throbbing in his temple being the only indication that her words had gotten to him. She imagined a labyrinth of cogs and gears churning somewhere behind his eyes as his brain mulled over what she’d said.

  Then he stood up. He came around the side of the table and grabbed her wrist, jerking her to her feet. She snatched up the package of Pop Tarts a split second before he yanked her away.

  She didn’t try to resist him as he forced her up the stairs into the bedroom that was her prison. She didn’t ask him what he was doing when he locked the door from the outside. She didn’t beg for him to have mercy on Randy and to spare both of their lives.

  Over the next several minutes, the sounds of Graham doing God knew what carried up the stairwell. Clinking, slamming, muttering . . .

  Then the front door opened and closed with a bang. An engine started up outside.

  Graham was on the move, and Lupe couldn’t do a thing to stop him.

  NEITHER RANDY nor Phil had come to any conclusions in regard to what to do about Trish’s missing body and the possibility that Graham Willard had spirited her away, but despite that Bobby found himself relaxing in their company. Randy and Phil were letting Bobby in on things they had no business sharing with him. He almost felt honored. Then again, he hadn’t had much choice in the matter. It wasn’t his fault he’d witnessed Trish’s exorcism and death. Well, maybe it was since he’d barged into Randy’s home like a madman, but that was beside the point.

  “I get that you think it would violate people’s trust by searching all of the Servants’ houses,” Bobby said to them, “but what if they all willingly let you look around a bit? I mean, if I were one of them, I’d want everyone to know I don’t have anything to hide.”

  Randy gave a thoughtful nod. “True.”

  Bobby turned to Phil. “What about you?”

  Resignation lined Phil’s face. “My concern is that I’d have to let Allison know what you were doing ransacking my house.”

  “She doesn’t need to know about this.”

  “None of them do. It pains me that we’ve come to this, but if you need to, feel free to ask Allison if I went anywhere that night.”

  “A house divided against itself cannot stand,” Randy quoted. He picked up a mug of coffee and sipped at it while he gazed unseeingly at the table.

  Phil adjusted his glasses and folded his arms. “Then let’s not consider this a division. Randy, you know I’ve sworn to do my best to guide and protect you, and may God strike me dead if I ever betray you.”

  Randy closed his eyes. “You’d better watch what you say.”

  Phil turned his gaze toward his lap, brooding.

  “Wait a minute,” Bobby said. “If you have a greater awareness of God—or whatever you told me last night—can’t you just ask him where Trish is and who took her?”

  Randy shook his head. “Does a teacher tell you the answers, or does he show you the steps you have to take to find them?”

  “Have you even tried asking him where Trish is?”

  “Of course. I know she’s close by, though just how close, I don’t know. I also know she really did die, contrary to what Father Preston thinks.”

  “And just who is this Father Preston? What if he’s in on this somehow?”

  “I take it you haven’t met him yet,” Phil said. “The man may be a bit standoffish to some people, but he’s got a good heart.”

  Standoffish. Ha. It sounded like Phil and Father Preston might be related. “Does he know about the Servants?”

  “Yes,” Randy said. “I used to cleanse the possessed in an empty meeting room at the church at night. I had to stop when there were too many close calls from parishioners showing up at inconvenient times and almost walking in on us.”

  “Does he have a key to this house?”

  “Not to my knowledge.”

  Bobby did a quick mental review of everything Randy had told him about yesterday. “Okay. So you were going to meet Father Preston here so you’d have his support while facing the police. Who got here first: you or him?”

  “Father Preston was here when we arrived,” Randy said, giving Phil a sidelong glance. “He was sitting in his car waiting for us.”

  “See,” Bobby said, “he knew about Trish because you told him. What if he’s really a sicko and snuck inside, took her body, and stuffed it into his trunk
?”

  “Because he’s Father Preston,” Randy said. “You’re making very unkind assumptions about a man you’ve never met.”

  Bobby crossed his arms. “I’m just tossing out ideas since you two seem to have run out of them. I say if the guy had the opportunity to do it, then he’s the one who did it.”

  “Your logic would make sense if Father Preston were indeed a ‘sicko,’” Phil said as a smirk played about his lips. “He’s a good priest. No scandals or anything like that. And he’s always been supportive of our cause.”

  “I don’t care what other people think about him. He had the opportunity to take Trish—”

  “And the ability to walk through walls, evidently.”

  Bobby didn’t resist the urge to say something snide. “Maybe he has more than two brain cells and guessed that Randy had a key hidden outside just like I did. But as I was saying . . .”

  Get out.

  Two words, not spoken yet fully understood, interrupted his thoughts; and Bobby felt the room start to sway as his breath left his lungs.

  It was happening again, far sooner than he’d hoped.

  He jumped up from the table. “We have to get out of here.”

  Randy’s face grew a shade paler. “Why?”

  “I don’t know. Something bad is coming.” He moved toward the front door and halted when neither of his comrades got up to follow. “I’m serious!”

  Randy looked torn between staying and leaving, but the look on Phil’s face told Bobby he wasn’t at all convinced they were in any kind of danger. “If this is some kind of joke—”

  “It isn’t!” They had to believe him. If he couldn’t convince them to leave the house, someone would die. “We’ve got to move!”

  “And where do you propose we ‘move’ to?”

  “I don’t know. Anywhere but here.”

  “If there’s some kind of danger in staying here, we could stay at Lupe’s apartment until it passes,” Randy said, shaken.

  But as soon as the suggestion had been spoken, Bobby knew her place wouldn’t be safe, either. “You both can come to my house. It’s not that far from here.”

  Spots of color formed on Phil’s white cheeks. “And what would we do then?”

  “We can figure that out later. I live at 12 Fir Street. Do you know the road?”

  “I think so,” Randy said, rising hesitantly from his chair. “Is that one of the streets off of Ridge Avenue?”

  “Uh-huh. You two can follow me.”

  Bobby ran from the house and jumped into his car. He had to take several deep breaths to slow the sudden spike in his pulse, and just as he thought the two Servants would continue ignoring his warning, both of them emerged from the house and climbed into Phil’s Taurus, casting suspicious glances his way.

  Bobby took that as his cue to leave.

  He swung a right out of the long driveway, Phil and Randy close behind. A quarter of a mile later a gray sedan passed him in the opposite lane traveling several miles an hour below the speed limit as if slowing down. Bobby peeked into his rearview mirror to see what it would do.

  In the receding distance, he saw the sedan turn into Randy’s driveway.

  It was all he could do not to slam on his brakes.

  Another glance in the mirror showed Randy gesturing wildly with his hands in the Taurus’s passenger seat. The Taurus drew back a few car lengths before speeding up again so it was right on Bobby’s tail.

  If he had to venture a guess, one of them wanted to go back to the house and confront the driver of the gray car.

  He was glad they didn’t.

  As he reentered the more populous part of Autumn Ridge, Bobby kept checking the mirrors to make sure the gray car’s driver hadn’t caught on and was following them. He almost expected to see it sitting in his driveway, but he arrived home without further incident. Phil pulled up beside him, his lips drawn in a thin line as he stared at Bobby through the window.

  He wondered if Phil believed him now and decided he probably did.

  “Did you see that car?” Bobby asked them when they met up on the porch.

  “The gray one?” Randy narrowed his eyes at Phil. “Boy, did we.”

  Bobby fumbled with the house key and almost dropped it before fitting it into the lock. They went inside and Bobby double-bolted the door for good measure. Now he would have to play host, a position with which he had little previous experience. “Have a seat. Do you need anything?”

  “Some aspirin might be useful,” Phil said as he sank into Caleb’s old place on the couch, his eyes holding a haunted look. He’d brought his black tote bag with him and set it on the floor.

  Yes, he definitely believed.

  Randy remained standing and kept glancing toward the door as if he expected someone to come knocking at any second.

  “Did you see who was driving it?” Bobby asked him.

  It took several moments for Randy to reply. “I only caught a glimpse of him. The man I saw looked thinner than Graham was when I last saw him, but it’s possible he’s lost some weight.”

  “What about the face?”

  Randy shook his head. “We were past him before I could get a decent look. Besides, he could have changed his appearance in other ways, too. Could be why he’s evaded the police for so long.”

  Phil looked up at them with remorse. “If we’d gone back there we could have ended this once and for all.”

  “And died in the act,” Bobby reminded him.

  Randy glanced to Bobby. “Not to change the subject, but a drink sounds really good right now.”

  “I don’t have that kind. I’m not twenty-one.”

  “Pop, then. Please.”

  Bobby was grateful to have something to do. “Is Dr Pepper okay? I’m almost out of Sprite.”

  “It’s perfect.”

  He hurried to the refrigerator and grabbed a can out of the shelf in the door. He returned to the living room, popped the tab, and handed the can to Randy. “I’ve never had guests here,” he blurted. “So sorry if I do something stupid.”

  “I actually think you’re quite smart,” Randy said. “By coming to a place Graham doesn’t know about, we’re staying hidden just that much longer.” He sipped at his drink and then froze. “Phil, you need to call Allison and have her take Ashley somewhere else for awhile. I’ll call Lupe.”

  Phil nodded. “Right.”

  Both men immediately went to separate ends of the small living room to speak with their significant others, and Bobby drifted to the front window and peered out at the street. None of the vehicles that passed the house were gray.

  This did not console him. A knot formed in his stomach. If Graham recognized Phil’s Taurus and had seen it pulling out of Randy’s driveway, he would have turned around and followed them. Just because Bobby hadn’t seen the car didn’t mean it wasn’t nearby.

  The fact that they outnumbered Graham three to one didn’t give him any relief, either. A single gunman could cut down a good portion of a crowd all by himself. And three people were much smaller than a crowd.

  Phil got off the phone and came up to Bobby’s side. “I just told my wife to take my daughter to her sister’s house up in Portland.”

  “That’s a long drive.”

  “Which makes it even better.”

  Bobby felt a brief sense of pride swell inside of him knowing that these people were heeding his words of warning, but fear quickly replaced it. Randy and Phil were relying on him now, and Phil was bringing his own family into it.

  What if Bobby was wrong? What if he unintentionally led them all into worse danger by removing Randy and Phil from the proverbial frying pan and placing them into the line of fire?

  No. He couldn’t think like that. He would know if he were wrong. Everyone was safe at his rental bungalow—at least for the time being.

  “What did she say when you told her Graham might be back?” he asked.

  “She was surprised, but not so surprised.” Phil clasped his hands tog
ether in front of him. “We’ve all been waiting for something like this to happen, and a lot of us expected it to be sooner rather than later. It isn’t in Graham’s nature to give up easily.”

  “You mean he’s done something like this before?”

  The man surprised him by chuckling, though the laugh conveyed little humor. “Now that, I can’t tell you. Graham owned a drug store for close to forty years and kept it open even during the times when it seemed certain to go under due to competition. He even managed to keep his marriage together when it got rocky. The man just keeps going. We all knew that since he failed to kill Randy once, he would try to do it again. He’ll keep at it until he either succeeds or dies.”

  Bobby understood why Randy had been so paranoid when he’d pushed him over in the church parking lot. “It’s hard to believe someone married a guy like that.”

  “That ‘someone’ was named Lisa. She passed away while I was the Servant. They were still married at the time.”

  “She must have been crazy.”

  Phil smiled at him. “No, just troubled. Graham loved that woman—at least we think he did, because he was always bragging about her and talking about all the good things she did—but Lisa had problems of her own. I don’t like speaking ill of the dead, but Lisa was no angel. Graham caught her having an affair twice. It nearly broke his heart, though somehow they were able to salvage their marriage and keep on as always.”

  “Maybe she knew there was more to him than he let on,” Bobby said. He peeked out the window again. No gray car. Good.

  Phil dipped his head. “From what I know now, I’m inclined to believe you’re right.”

  Randy joined them, gripping his phone in one hand and the can of Dr Pepper in the other. The lines on his face had deepened. “I called all the others to let them know what’s happened, but Lupe won’t pick up either phone so I’m hoping she’s just in the shower getting ready for work. I left her a message.”

  “Let’s hope she gets it.”

  “I don’t know,” Randy said as if in answer to something else. “I called her as soon as I woke up this morning too, and she didn’t pick up then, either. I figured she was still in bed.”