“Thanks so much for caring and for praying for us.” Laura’s voice came in not much more than a whisper.
“I’m relieved that you didn’t go through with your plans,” Jan said, her words coming in a rush. “The problems you and Tyler are experiencing can all be worked out. Nothing is too hard for the Lord. Remember to place everything in His hands. He will help you and Tyler fix whatever needs fixing. For now, we need to focus our prayers on just getting him and those hostages home safely. You know, even in this, God can be glorified and work it all out for our good according to His will.”
“Thank you, Mom.”
“You bet, honey. I’ll stay in prayer for Tyler and everyone involved in this hostage crisis. What a mess all this is!”
“Boy, is it.”
“Let me know if you hear from Tyler. Okay, honey?”
“I will.”
Jan sensed that Laura wasn’t quite finished with their conversation. And she smiled when she heard a weak, “Mom?”
“Yes, honey,” she answered.
“I love you,” Laura said.
“I love you, too,” Jan said. She hung up the phone and closed her eyes. Only this time it wasn’t to sleep. Bowing her head, she placed a hand over her heart. “Oh, Jesus, make things right . . . Oh, Jesus . . .”
Keiana sat in tears on the couch. “What am I going to do?” All she knew was that she didn’t want to be alone. She grabbed her cell phone and shakily called her brother Lawrence and broke the news to him, asking him to come over.
An expletive escaped Lawrence’s mouth as soon as she told him. “I’ll be right there.”
After she hung up, she called Akil, Marquise’s work partner, and then she called her friend Jackie. Each person responded with shock and followed it with an announcement that they were heading to her home immediately.
She hoped that their presence would bring her some peace and comfort. But her mind continued to play back her conversation with Marquise and the gunshot she heard at the end of their call.
“You have to be alive, boy,” she kept saying over and over. “Don’t you die on me. Don’t you dare die.”
Within ten minutes, all three appeared at her doorstep. She greeted each with a “Thanks for coming” and a hug, trying desperately to keep her tears at bay.
Lawrence, Akil, and Jackie each hugged Keiana warmly.
She shared again what she knew, which she admitted wasn’t much. They turned on the television to see if the news offered other details. As Jackie sat close to her and held her hand, Keiana noticed Lawrence and Akil, both restless and pacing back and forth.
When Lawrence glanced over at her, she raised an eyebrow.
Both men approached her. “I’m sorry, Keiana, but I gotta to go over there and see what’s going on,” Lawrence said.
“Yeah, I’m gonna go, too,” Akil said.
“We’ll call as soon as we hear anything, baby sister,” Lawrence said, hugging her tightly. “I swear, baby girl, I don’t know anything about this.”
“Me either, Keiana,” Akil added. He looked as bewildered as Lawrence did.
“Okay, y’all,” Keiana said dismally and nodded. “You all go on. Call me if you find out anything. Swear to me that you will call me right away, you hear?”
Not long after they left, Keiana’s cell phone rang. The caller ID told her it was Marquise’s mom. She figured Lawrence must have called her, since she had been in such a state that she didn’t even think to do that.
“Keiana, baby, what’s going on down there? Yo brother Lawrence just told me what’s happening. Dear Lawd, I just talked to Marquise this mornin’,” Marquise’s mother said, sounding incredulous and fearful. “How on earth he mixed up in this mess, baby?”
His mother’s words broke the dam of emotion she had been trying to keep inside, and the flood of tears returned.
Her friend Jackie grabbed a Kleenex box. Keiana took the Kleenex she offered and wiped her eyes and nose.
With no answers for Marquise’s mother, Keiana stood dead silent, watching Jackie move to pick up a suddenly fussy and fidgety Nisha. Baby girl seemed to know that something was amiss.
“I don’t know, Mrs. Taylor,” Keiana finally answered, trying to hold the phone in her trembling hand. “I know that he and Lawrence went down to that protest last night,” she added, once she was able to get her crying under control, “but I don’t know what this is all about. I just don’t know.”
“We all just pure sick over here about this!” Marquise’s mom said.
Keiana burst into sobs again.
“Give it here, Keiana,” Jackie said, putting the baby on the floor and taking the cell phone. “Mrs. Taylor, this is Keiana’s friend Jackie. I’m sorry, but she is just too upset to talk right now. We also need to keep the line open for the authorities. I’m sure she will call you back as soon as we hear something more definitive.” She paused to listen to Marquise’s mom, then nodded. “All right, ma’am. Yes, I’ll tell her.” Jackie ended the call and placed the phone on an end table.
“She said it’s gonna be all right, Keiana. That God’s got this.” She picked up Nisha and placed her in her playpen. Then she returned and sat close to Keiana, who continued to weep.
When the doorbell rang, Keiana jumped in surprise. She and Jackie looked at each other before Jackie stood again.
“I’ll go and check. Okay, honey?” Jackie said. She rubbed Keiana’s back before she headed to the door. She looked through the peephole. “They look official.”
“Let them in,” Keiana said, her strength nearly sapped.
“Hi . . . Keiana Simpson?” came a man’s voice, clearly speaking to Jackie.
“No, I’m her friend. Come on in.”
The officers, a tall thin man with dark hair and a petite red-headed woman — both looking to be in their twenties — walked straight toward her.
The man spoke first. “I’m Jordan Finley and this is Ricki Tenner. We’re with the Crime Scene Crisis Intervention Unit.” Both reached their hands out to Keiana.
Nisha started to fuss.
“I’ll go get her, Keiana,” Jackie said.
“Thank you.” Keiana forced a smile and wiped her tears. “Please have a seat.”
“Thanks,” the officers said in unison.
“We are here on behalf of the Mannford police department,” Ricki said. “Ms. Simpson, — Keiana, we’ve come to bring you up-to-date about everything we know at this point. We have also come to offer any help and support that you may need.”
“What we know so far,” Jordan said, taking over, “is that Marquise is at Mannford Christian Fellowship. A hostage situation is unfolding, and I am sorry to say that Marquise is a hostage. As you know, this is quite an unusual turn of events. The alleged perpetrators seem to be a man named Deshaun Woodson, an officer named Jonathon Collins, and . . .” Jordan paused and glanced at Ricki. “And Mayor Henderson.”
“The mayor? Did . . . did you say the mayor of Mannford?” Keiana asked, her teary eyes wide with confusion and disbelief.
Ricki shook her head sadly. “You heard correctly. We are receiving information that there may be two other hostages as well, those being the pastor of that church and his wife. We are still working to confirm this. We at the MPD, the SWAT team and other pertinent law enforcement have been called in to defuse the situation. As soon as we know anything, you also will know it.”
Jordan patted Keiana on the hand. “Is there anything we can do for you tonight, Keiana?”
Bring my Marquise safely home to me, she thought. But instead she nodded. “Yes, please, if either of you can talk to Marquise, please tell him that I love him, and that baby Nisha loves him, too.” Keiana blinked several times, trying to fend off a fresh flow of tears.
“You bet, Keiana,” Ricki said. “We will be in touch and will keep you notified of all update
s. Be aware that the news media may try to contact you by phone or show up at your door. Know that you are under no obligation to answer any questions. In fact, it may be better if you don’t talk to them at all for the time being. This is, understandably, a sensitive situation.”
“I’ll stay here with her and make sure nobody bothers her,” Jackie said.
Ricki nodded and smiled. “We’ll also arrange to have a patrol officer posted for you and your baby’s protection. All right?”
Jordan and Ricki both stood. Ricki handed Keiana a business card. She also took down Keiana’s cell number. “Please call us anytime,” Jordan said and gently shook her hand once again before leaving.
As Jackie relocked the door, Keiana glanced down at the card. “Please bring him back to me,” she whispered, as the tears came again.
Old Deacon Harold Nunnely’s jaw dropped as he sat on his couch and watched the news reports of what was happening at his church. He put his head in his hands. “Oh my God, oh my God! Won’t you help us now?” As the anguish sunk onto him, he wrapped his arms tightly around himself, unsure of what to do, but then he prayed. Amid the voices of the news reporter and the raucous sounds of the live report, he prayed. Amid the sound of his own pounding heart, he prayed. Even through the nagging worry over the safety of his young pastor, he prayed.
Then he listened — in patient expectation — for the Lord’s voice. That heavenly Voice. Peace seeped in. That peace he’d come to rely on, that peace that had at all times bypassed his understanding. It emanated and settled on and around him. He understood then what he was to do.
Hurriedly he roused his old frame from his couch and picked up his cell phone. “I’m going to call Pastor Al’s family in Seattle,” he said to himself. “Yessir, that’s what I’m going to do.”
After talking to the pastor’s family, he turned his attention to his church family. He called as many members of Mannford Christian Fellowship as he could. His message was the same each time. After he broke the news, he said rousing words: “Meet me there. We gon’ pray!”
“Evelyn?” He said to his wife who stood nearby, obviously listening in.
“Let’s go, Harold,” she said, grabbing her husband’s weathered, work-worn hand.
“Yes, darlin’, let’s go,” Harold said, squeezing the hand of his bride of fifty years as they stood together to leave.
As they drove closer to the church, they passed more onlookers, television vans, and police officers. Harold had to stop the car when he neared a blockade of officers. Several law enforcement vehicles with lights flashing blocked the street entirely. Straight ahead stood an officer holding up his hand to their car.
“Officer, can you please tell us what in the world is going on? I think our pastor and his wife are in there,” Harold said.
“Are you sure, sir? We have been trying to determine if that is the case,” the police officer answered. “Preliminary reports show that there is only one hostage in there.”
“Well, I don’t know about that, but on television I saw Pastor Al’s vehicle close to the door where he always parks.”
“Wait right here, sir,” the officer said, turning his back to report the additional evidence through his radio to his superiors.
Al spied Jonathon grab his phone and start dialing. he wondered who this gunman could be calling.
“Commander Holfield, Officer Jonathon Collins here. I guess we’ve got us a little situation with all six of us in here, don’t we?”
Al’s stomach sunk. That man’s a police officer? Oh my goodness! He looked back and forth at the three men, including the mayor, who now lay slumped on the floor. What in the world? Oh my Lord Jesus, what is happening in Mannford?
“Yes, Johnnie.”
Al was surprised that Jonathon had his phone set to speaker mode.
“We’ve got a few problems to work through,” the commander said. “Why don’t you all just come on out of there? We’ll help you resolve all of this, Johnnie.”
Jonathon stayed silent for several moments. He looked at Deshaun and the mayor, then glided his eyes over to Al, Misty, and Marquise. His jaw muscles tensed. “I’ll be in touch,” he said, then abruptly hung up.
Chapter
26
Al sat huddled with Misty and Marquise on the front middle pew. He prayed quietly as he cautiously observed Deshaun. It seemed that from their posts on the podium he and the other man, Jonathon, were taking turns peering out the back window and then glaring at the three of them. Pacing back and forth, Deshaun kept up a steady stream of profanity-laced complaints all while waving his gun haphazardly in the air.
“Why Deshaun gotta get hooked up in all this mess? Ain’t goin’ to end well. But Deshaun ain’t goin’ down alone.” He turned his sights directly on Marquise. “You hear me, pretty boy Mar-Quise? This nigga here ain’t goin’ down alone.” Deshaun pointed the gun directly at the man sitting close to Al.
Before giving it a thought, Al stood and placed himself in front of Misty and Marquise.
Marquise stood just as quickly next to Al and placed his hand on Al’s shoulder. “No, man. No!” he whispered fiercely. “You can’t do this for me.”
Incredulous, Al felt Misty push to position herself between him and Marquise. He wrapped his arms around her tightly. And she in turn wrapped hers around Marquise. He could feel their trembles matching his own. The wet clothing and extreme circumstances were taking a toll. But they had to brave it. If Al was going to die, he wasn’t going to do it cowering.
“God has not given us a spirit of fear or timidity,” he whispered, as much to remind himself as to strengthen Misty and Marquise.
“But a spirit of power and love and of a sound mind,” Misty whispered back.
Deshaun threw his head back, laughed, and lowered his gun. “Ooh-Wee. You niggas thought that was it, didn’t you?”
“Oh, Lord, help us,” Al prayed. He’s toying with us now. He knew they would be brave, but that didn’t mean they weren’t afraid, as he sensed from his wife’s quickened breathing. His heart broke for her. He caught Marquise’s eyes, too, from where he still stood huddled next to Misty — his face a study in fortitude. Al nodded to his newfound comrade. The three continued to stand, but just as Al’s jangled emotions and heartbeat had finally calmed after Deshaun’s assault, loud shouting caused him to jerk around toward Jonathon. The man had broken his scowling, brooding silence to stride angrily toward them — shouting and demanding, “Sit down! All of you!”
Shaken, Al and the others relented and sat back down. “Oh, Lord, keep us. This is too much, Lord. Deliver us from this wickedness,” Al prayed in a low voice. He kept his eyes peeled as the tall blond man jumped back up on the platform with Deshaun. Jonathon then pushed Deshaun forcefully backward.
“Dude,” Jonathon said through clenched teeth. “Would you please cut the crap? We got a situation here that we need to work through.”
“Man, don’t be walkin’ up on Deshaun like that,” Deshaun said, angrily pushing Jonathon back. “It’ll straight up get serious right here real quick! Deshaun a grown man. You best not put yo’ hands on me, and you betta speak to Deshaun like you got some sense.”
The two stood face to face, staring each other down.
“All right. Look, man,” Jonathon sneered. “We’ve got to get our crap together if we have any hope of making it out of here in one piece.”
“I can deal with it, dude,” Deshaun shouted angrily, cocking his head from side to side. “Just don’t be runnin’ up on Deshaun like that.”
“Agreed,” Jonathon spat out.
Guardedly, Al watched the two men and then glanced quickly at Misty and Marquise, to find them observing the men just as carefully.
The two men lowered their voices in apparent deliberation. Both scowled and sent menacing glances back toward the three hostages and then toward Mayor Henderson, who sti
ll lay like a stone, unmoving, on the carpeted aisle. Al wondered if in his stupor the mayor could hear anything of what was going on around him.
As though reading Al’s mind, the mayor began a low mutter to himself.
“I miss you, Mom,” the mayor whispered. “Why’d you have to die? You left me when I needed you the most. But I’m glad you’re not here to see your only child like this.” Tears slipped out of the corners of his eyes and fell unheeded onto the red-carpeted floor.
“Dear Jesus, help,” Al lowered his head and prayed.
Across town at city hall, a swarm of media waited on one side of the chamber’s closed doors, while ten members of the city council engaged in an emergency meeting within. After a conference-call briefing from the chief of police, the ten were assembled in their places around a large, oblong conference desk.
“Guess Mayor Henderson’s not coming back for our meeting after all,” Lisa Ann said sarcastically. She pursed her lips and swept her stare around the table. “Well, what say we put together a halfway coherent statement? Those sharks out there smell blood and are circling in for the kill. Mayor Henderson’s given them a heck of a lot to chomp on.” Her eyes flashed with anger. “Damage control central, here!” She slapped the desk in frustration. “What in God’s green universe do we tell the media?” She looked around at the other council members.
“Your guess is as good as mine, Nobles,” Councilman James Lyles answered with a scowl. He shook his balding head from side to side. “We all know that Truman hasn’t been running Mannford for the past year. We’ve been covering for his sorry tail, doing all his work, and trying to keep his nose clean. Yeah! Let’s face it, for a while now we’ve all been literally wiping coke dust from his nose and running hookers away from his office.”
“He’s hit rock bottom, and he’s dragging us down with him.” Nobles agreed. Closing her eyes briefly, she pulled her manicured fingers through her thick dark hair and massaged her temples. “We should have put a stop to this months ago, had that intervention earlier. We should have —”
Three Nights In Mannford Page 15