“What you mean, Marquise?” the voice on the other end quickly turned hysterical. “Who? What’s going on?”
“Call 9-1-1. Mannford Christian Fellowship! You got that, babe? Mannford Christian Fellowship.”
“Marquise! Marquise!” the woman cried loudly. In the background, Al heard a baby begin to wail.
Before Marquise could hang up, gunshots rang out.
“We gotta move,” Al whispered urgently to Misty and Marquise. “Follow me.” Al crouched down, making sure he couldn’t be seen above the top of the pew as he raced to a side door off the sanctuary, pausing to make sure that Misty and Marquise were behind him. When more gunshots sounded, the church’s front doors banged open. In their flight, Al took a fleeting glance at the cross hanging on the wall above the podium.
Keiana’s hands trembled so violently that she dropped her phone. Everything seemed to move in slow motion. Even in the urgency of the moment, she couldn’t call fast enough. Finally, her hand reached the phone, and she dialed 9-1-1.
“9-1-1, what is your emergency?” a dispatcher asked, sounding way too calm for the situation.
“Quick, send the police to Mannford Christian Fellowship. Someone’s shooting at my boyfriend. Please, please hurry. We have a baby girl. Please hurry,” Keiana said, trying her hardest to be understood through her sobs.
“Yes, ma’am. I’ve dispatched police units. They’re on their way.”
Al cracked open the side door so they could slide through and down the stairs that led into the small pool-like baptistry. They would have to hide out there and pray the men didn’t think to check that spot. But how long would that last? They would be sitting ducks, so to speak. Still, they had no other options. Breathing in and out in short, quick whiffs, his heart pounding, Al motioned for them to follow as he stepped hesitantly into the water of the baptistry. With each step, the warmth hugged his legs and then his stomach. Being in the pool should have felt comfortable, holy. But Al was preoccupied with hoping it would provide cover as they all crouched down so the water covered them up to their waists.
Misty’s hand surged through the water to squeeze her husband’s. Her eyes showed fear, but the set of her jaw told him that she wasn’t going to go down without fierce prayer cover.
“Come on, man!” the voice shouted again. “Deshaun just want to talk to you! No harm, no foul here. Just two men talkin’. Come on out here, now!”
Al knew better to than to believe the man’s promise. He’d most likely shoot them all. Al glanced over at Marquise, who clearly had the same realization.
“Deshaun know you in there, Marquise,” he continued, his voice coming from just outside the sanctuary doors.
The doors opened, and soon Al heard the sounds of feet padding on the carpet.
“Might as well come out right now. Deshaun ain’t playin’ wit’ you, nicka. Come on out! Now!”
Still holding Al’s hand, Misty reached over to clasp Marquise’s hand as well. “Pray!” her lips said soundlessly. The gently undulating water belied the tidal wave of trouble rolling in just outside the baptistry’s doors.
Trudging, kicking, dragging — sounds of the footsteps of the vile stranger searching for Marquise desecrated the inner sanctum of the sanctuary and moved closer. The stranger found the light switches and clicked them on one by one.
Doors opened and then slammed closed in succession around them. Al knew it would be only a matter of moments before the stranger chose the door leading directly to them. Al stared at the side of the pool without really seeing.
“I commit us into Your safekeeping, O Lord,” Al whispered.
Beneath the door at the top of the stairs, shadows appeared. Al held his breath as the doorknob twisted, the hinges creaked, and the door opened. Someone flicked on the light illuminating the pool and the three figures in it.
Two men stepped to the edge of the baptistry and stared down at them with menace in their eyes. Both raised their guns and pointed them directly at Marquise.
“Deshaun done got you now, nigga.”
Al’s heart pounded as he stared up at the men. The short ‘fro, gold-grilled teeth, and heavy jewelry of the one who called himself Deshaun stood in sharp contrast to the buttoned-up shirt, dress slacks, and staid appearance of the athletically built, blond-haired man who stood behind him. However, the men were wearing matching sinister sneers as they took in Al and Misty.
The blond-haired man spoke brutishly, just above a whisper. “You all best come on up here.”
Instinctively, before he could give it another thought, Al moved. He found it awkward to push quickly through the water to stand in front of Misty and Marquise, but he did his best. “No!” he shouted. “There will be no bloodshed in this church!”
“He’s right! We will not let you shed this man’s blood!” Misty shouted, matching Al’s tone. “No, in Jesus’ name!”
From behind Al, Marquise’s hand touched his shoulder. “Hey man, you can’t do this for me.” He pushed his way past Al and Misty and slowly began to walk up the submerged stairs.
“Yeah, nicka! Get yo butt up here. You best get up here now if you know what’s good for you!” the man yelled.
“No!” Al shouted. He and Misty together grabbed Marquise’s shirt, refusing to let him move any farther.
Marquise pushed their hands off of him. With sweat pouring from his forehead and his breathing coming in near gasps, he turned back toward them. “This is the way it’s got to be,” he said and grimaced. “I’m sorry I brought you into this.”
“Shut up and keep walking,” the man said. “All of you.”
“Leave them out of it, Deshaun. You want me, not them, man. They’re good people.”
Al breathed in deeply, trying to calm his nerves. Unless God intervened, they were all going to die. He swallowed hard over the lump that had settled into his throat and looked at his beautiful wife. She’s been such a wonderful partner in ministry and in life, he thought. “Misty, I love you so much, sweetheart.”
Her eyes glinted with tears. “I love you, too.”
“Enough! I said get yo butts up here!” Deshaun shouted again.
With two guns pointed toward them, the three mounted the stairs, holding tightly to one another. The water dripping from their clothes made the walkway slippery, forcing them to move slowly.
Deshaun and the other man kept their guns pointed at the trio, urging them to move faster. As they stepped back into the now well-lit sanctuary, the sound of advancing police sirens made all of them pause and turn toward the outer doors.
The door abruptly swung open with a kick, jolting all those inside. Mayor Truman Henderson burst brazenly into the room. His gaze seemed unfocused and wild as he stumbled — shaking and muttering to himself. He glanced toward the front at the two men. “Jonathon,” he said, staring pleadingly at the blond-haired man.
Jonathon and Deshaun, now wearing panicked expressions, turned back toward Marquise, Al, and Misty. Both began to yell with a new level of urgency, their voices sounding shaky and panicked. “Get over here. Now!” They nodded toward the front pew. Al noticed a slight tremble in their hands as they pointed their guns at the three. “Get over here,” they continued to shout at the top of their lungs and motion wildly. “Get over here!” The gunmen were feeling cornered, as the police surrounded.
Al moved slowly and cautiously toward the pew, still holding Misty’s hand. No sudden movements, he thought, knowing this could end very badly. He inwardly whispered a thank you to Marquise’s girlfriend who had obviously called for help.
“Sit there,” the blond man directed.
As Al, Misty, and Marquise took their seats close to the center aisle, Al continued to keep his eyes glued to the men’s twitchy hands as they clutched their guns. The sirens grew louder and closer.
Mayor Henderson threw himself on the altar that covered the front
of the sanctuary, lifting his head to look at the three hostages. Something in his eyes sharpened as he took in the situation. He shook his head wildly and flung himself against Jonathon. “We’re toast,” he said and staggered as the man stepped away. “We’re toast, gentlemen!”
“Shut up, fool!” Deshaun shouted at the mayor. “Shut up!” He turned his gun toward Mayor Henderson.
“No, don’t!” Jonathon yelled. Sweat had formed on his brow and upper lip.
Deshaun slowly lowered his gun and began to pace, muttering to himself and constantly glancing from Marquise to the mayor to the church-entrance doors at the back of the sanctuary.
As he crumpled onto a pew not far from where they sat, Mayor Truman seemed unaware of the danger he’d just avoided.
The lights and sirens of several police cruisers now flashed directly outside, adding to the insane drama playing out inside the church.
“Help us, Jesus,” Al said softly, but loud enough for Misty and Marquise to hear.
“Yes, Lord,” Misty responded back.
“Deliver us, Lord,” Al continued. “Save us, Lord.”
Jonathon mounted the podium and stared at the back of the sanctuary.
Deshaun stopped his pacing and rushed to peek out the window. Then he retreated quickly back to the front. “The cops everywhere out there, man.”
Jonathon leveled his gun at Al, Misty, and Marquise and motioned for them to move away from the center and toward the other end of the pew farthest from the entrance. His face showed little emotion.
Al and Marquise moved. Acting with one mind, they pushed Misty between them to protect her.
“Lord, we need You to show up,” Al said. “Help us, Jesus.”
Mayor Henderson stood, took a few steps toward the back, then fell forward onto the carpeted aisle. There he lay, curled into a fetal position, sobbing.
Chapter
25
9:20 P.M.
“Ward 6 is super quiet tonight. Not sure what Commander Holfield was talking about.” Tyler looked at his partner, Chris, who sat on the passenger side of the squad car. They’d been expecting trouble from the downtown riots, but they’d received no word of any. So they’d spent their time riding up and down the quiet tree-lined streets.
“I hear you, Ty,” Chris said, patting his knee. “Holfield said this ward is still a tinderbox? I don’t think so. No action here.”
“Agreed,” Tyler sighed. “Let’s grab a coffee.”
“Yep, let’s,” Chris said.
Tyler slowed the patrol car as they neared a convenience store. He parked near the entrance and had his hand on the door when he heard an urgent call from dispatch over his police scanner.
“Officers 23, 29, 33, 35 to 3434 East Thirty-fourth Avenue. Possible hostage situation at Mannford Christian Fellowship. I repeat, 23, 29, 33, 35 to 3434 East Thirty-fourth Avenue. Approach with extreme caution. Other units there reporting that Mayor Henderson is inside the building. Suspects considered armed and dangerous. I repeat suspects, allegedly including Mayor Truman Henderson, are armed and dangerous. Please approach the area with extreme caution.”
“What?” Tyler said. “Did we hear right?
“The mayor?” Chris said. “Could be a suspect — not a hostage? Are they sure?”
Tyler had hoped that they wouldn’t have to police a riot again. They had both heard updates throughout the evening that the crowd downtown was still belligerent, but nothing that the officers assigned to that area couldn’t handle. No, this was altogether different. A hostage situation rarely ended well — especially with such a high-ranking person involved. With all thoughts of coffee now gone, Tyler glanced at Chris. “Let’s go, partner.”
“Boy, oh boy. I’m with you,” Chris said. “Let’s get after it.”
Tyler nodded grimly, started the patrol car, and sped out of the parking lot.
With the address on the other side of their patrol area, Tyler knew it would take at least ten minutes to get there. “Hold on tight,” he said. Switching the lights and siren on, he pressed the accelerator to the floor. He knew a lot could happen in ten minutes — and they didn’t have a lot of time to play with. Five minutes later, they pulled up next to the other patrol cars. He spotted Lieutenant Dana Rogers and several other officers standing behind their cars, some with guns pointing toward the church doors and windows. With his heart pounding, he turned off the lights and siren and exited the vehicle.
“Any word from the inside?” Tyler asked the Lieutenant.
“Not a word yet. But be ready gentlemen. Commander Holfield says we’ll be handling the negotiations. SWAT has been called, though. They’re on their way, too.”
“We’ll be ready, Lieutenant,” Tyler said.
“Yep, looks like it’s going to be a party in the park,” Chris added wryly.
“You’ve got that right, Haney,” Lieutenant Rogers answered.
Tyler and Chris then grabbed rifles from their trunk and took positions behind their vehicle, their rifles cocked and ready.
Everything was eerily silent, leaving Tyler alone with his thoughts. He couldn’t figure why Mayor Henderson would be involved in something at this little church in a rundown neighborhood. The dispatcher had to be wrong in her information. The mayor a suspect? No, that couldn’t be right.
“Here come our comrades,” Chris called across to Tyler, interrupting his thoughts.
“Yep, I hear ’em.”
Large black SWAT vehicles rolled in and parked to the side of the church just past the squad cars.
Surreal. A movie script couldn’t have been written better, Tyler thought.
The SWAT vehicles were followed close behind by news-media satellite trucks, which arrived en masse. The live-news trucks and mobile units swarmed in like so many bees buzzing frantically — equipment, cameras, and live-coverage reporters at the ready. Each media-unit team scrambled to position themselves as closely as they were allowed in order to get the best possible shot.
Helicopters arrived soon after, both news and police, and flew overhead. The eerie silence was shattered.
Jan’s cell phone rang. She roused her head from her stylish off-white traditional couch. Drowsy with the waning light, she reached over and retrieved it from the handsome cherrywood end table.
“H—Hello,” she said, trying to keep the sleepy sound from her voice.
“Mom? Are you watching the news?”
Her daughter-in-law’s voice woke her. “Laura? Why it’s you,” Jan’s heart lurched. What would Laura say? Why was she calling? “Hi, honey . . . I’m so glad you called. No, no. I was reading my Bible and getting ready to turn in. Why? What’s going on? What about the news?”
“Oh, Mom. Turn it on! You won’t believe what is going on right now in Mannford! Tyler . . .”
“Oh, my goodness. Okay. Let me get that remote.” Jan fished around the couch cushions until she pulled it out. “Here it is,” she said to herself and flipped on the television.
“BREAKING NEWS” rolled across the bottom of the screen as an on-scene reporter stood in front of yellow police tape. “The police aren’t saying much except that three individuals are being held hostage inside the Mannford Christian Fellowship church just up the road.” The reporter pointed as the camera panned to show the church, surrounded by what looked from a distance to be almost a dozen squad cars. “So far, the word is that all the hostages are uninjured, but there is an unconfirmed report that the mayor of Mannford, Truman Henderson, is inside the church — not as a hostage but as a perpetrator, together with police-officer Jonathon Collins and one other person, Deshaun Woodson, who is reported to be a drug dealer. All are said to be the perpetrators of this current hostage crisis. We will keep you posted with further updates as soon as they become available. Reporting live from Mannford Eyewitness 5 News, Liz Redman.”
Jan struggled to wr
ap her mind around what this news reporter was suggesting. “Mayor Henderson? Surely that can’t be!” she said, still clutching the phone in one hand and the remote in her other. “Our mayor — What on earth? That is unbelievable,” Jan said, incredulous. “Do you think Tyler is there?”
“I think so,” Laura said. “You know he is on the task force that negotiates with perpetrators in just these sorts of circumstances. It is hard to believe. This is all a complete shocker. Please pray for Tyler’s safety and for all the officers.”
“Oh my goodness, Laura. You’re absolutely right. I will definitely pray for Tyler and everyone involved. But Mayor Henderson? I . . . I don’t understand. All of this is all so unreal. I will be praying. Goodness gracious!”
“Yes, I agree, Mom!” Laura replied.
With the seriousness of the situation, Jan debated whether she should express her other concerns to Laura but felt a nudge within her spirit that it was the right time. “Laura,” she started cautiously. “I must say that I’ve also been praying. Ever since you were here earlier, I’ve been praying for you and Tyler, honey. Please tell me that you have had a change of heart about a . . . d-divorce.”
Jan could hear a slight sniffle on the other end of the line. “Oh, Mom! From the moment I left your house, I felt really horrible. I visited a lawyer, but that made me feel even worse. The thought of a divorce — I don’t know. It’s all so overwhelming. It isn’t what I want, Mom, but I didn’t know what else to do,” Laura said, her emotions running high. “But when I got home! You wouldn’t believe it. My Tyler had fixed dinner and had all sorts of lovely things prepared for me. I was stunned. I can’t wait to see him tonight, but now with all this going on — ” She grew quiet.
Jan knew to let her daughter-in-law process in the silence before trying to say anything comforting to her. So as she waited, she breathed an inward prayer for God to protect Tyler, to have His hand on the situation, and to bring Laura and Tyler closer together.
Three Nights In Mannford Page 14