Chasing Deception

by Dave Milbrandt

  He paused before continuing. “And I especially want to thank my partner, Melissa, for being the best reporter in the world to work with. When I wanted to just report the facts, you helped give this story a human angle. That’s what made this work really great.

  “Now many of you know Melissa and I have been more than just colleagues. Actually, we have fallen in love with each other. Today I want her to be more than my partner in journalism. I want her to be my partner in life as well.”

  Melissa wasn’t the only one who gasped as Jim dropped to one knee and produced an opened ring box from his right pants pocket.

  “Melissa Anne Jenkins, will you marry me?”

  At just the right moment, Jeff snapped a picture of a stunned Melissa with her mouth wide open.

  —

  12:17 p.m. Monday, April 27

  Returning from lunch in the break room, Jim opened his email and the name on the top unread message caught his attention: “Richard Nixon”. The computer’s spam filter had flagged the message, but Jim’s curiosity prompted him to open it anyway.

  Subject: Congratulations!

  Dear James,

  I was so pleased when I heard you and Melissa got engaged. You two will make a lovely couple and I’m sure the wedding will be a delightful one. Too bad your cousin won’t be able to make it.

  I also heard you won a fancy award for what happened in Crestline. Your stories weren’t too bad, but you shouldn’t let it go to your head. Without me, you would just be the guy who whines about what happens at city council meetings. I made you famous! You should thank me for that. Maybe some day I’ll give you the chance.

  Jim sat in stunned silence for a full minute before he called Dan and Melissa over to his desk.

  Melissa’s mouth hung agape as she read the note over Jim’s shoulder. “He sent you another threat? This guy really is one sick puppy.”

  Dan shook his head. “That’s a lot nicer than what I was thinking.”

  Jim snorted. “Me, too.” He shifted his focus from the computer screen to Dan. “So, what should we do? I could call his bluff and arrange a meeting.”

  “I don’t think so. The last time you two went at it, nearly 30 people died. He didn’t give you any clue where he is, but if he ever does, we’re calling the police and letting them handle things.”

  “So, what do we do in the meantime? Just wait?”

  Melissa chimed in. “That’s exactly what we do.”

  “You know how much I hate waiting.”

  “It’s better than the alternative.”

  A vision of the dead bodies sprawled out in the mountainside rec room flashed through his mind. “I suppose you’re right.”

  25

  Wednesday, May 13

  Planning for the wedding helped the couple keep their mind off the email from Jeremiah. Jim had always known Melissa was a very organized person, but he was surprised at the full-throttled energy she poured into the planning. Once they set a wedding date for the following May, she was off and running. She tended to most of the details after she left the office, but she occasionally planned the wedding during the workday. For example, the Wednesday after he proposed, she had taken news writer and fellow believer Andrea Castillo out to lunch to ask her to be a bridesmaid. Andrea, one of Melissa’s few, close friends at the Courier, immediately said “yes”. Then she called her college roommates, Cynthia Holland and Vera Kawahara, excitedly told them about the engagement, and asked them to be in the wedding. They both agreed without hesitation. These three friends, along with Elizabeth as the matron of honor, would round out her side.

  Jim was having a harder time filling out his side. Now that he was a Christian, he didn’t necessarily want to pick groomsmen from among the group of guys he had gone drinking with on Friday nights. Then he remembered Bruce Harte, a close friend in college and a Christian. He always liked Bruce because he never tried to shove Christianity down his throat. Jim admired Bruce for his strong moral standards mixed with humility. He was anything but “holier than thou”. He hadn’t talked to Bruce in nearly two years, but he knew Bruce wasn’t the type of person to mind. Bruce was editor of a small weekly Colorado newspaper, and he always liked to hear from his more “successful” J-school colleagues.

  Jim looked at his watch, noting the time. 6:23 p.m. He mentally added an hour and dialed Bruce’s home phone number. Bruce was a family man who usually was home by 6 p.m. and finished with dinner by 7:30 at the latest. Jim had often chided Bruce he wouldn’t get anywhere in journalism keeping those kinds of hours. Bruce’s quick retort was always the same. “There are some things more important than journalism.” For the first time, that sentiment made sense to Jim.

  “Harte residence.” The cheerful serenity in Bruce’s voice was unmistakable.

  When was the last time I was that relaxed at seven-thirty on a work night? “Hi Bruce, it’s Jim Mitchell.”

  “Hi Jim, I haven’t heard from you in almost two years! Man, I heard about the Pulitzer. Congratulations! I always knew you would make it big, but, my gosh, the Pulitzer?

  “There are some things more important than journalism.” Jim surprised himself as he repeated Bruce’s catchphrase.

  Bruce shifted to a more serious tone. “Excuse me, is this the same Jim Mitchell I went to grad school with? Something tells me you called to talk about something other than newspapers.”

  “Since it seems you can see right through me, let’s just get down to brass tacks. I became a Christian in January.”

  Bruce cut in. “Again man, congratulations! I have been praying for you since the second time we met! Tell me all about it.”

  Jim and Bruce talked for the next 45 minutes about everything: his conversion, Melissa, New Creation, Jeremiah Harmon, Vince, Jim’s Dad. Jim did most of the talking while Bruce listened and offered a kind comment here and there. At the end of all that, Jim asked Bruce to be a groomsman.

  “I would be honored. Name the time and place and I’ll be there!”

  They talked for a few more minutes before hanging up.

  —

  3:17 p.m. Saturday, May 16

  A couple of days later, Jim and Melissa were sitting at a tree-shaded table outside Classic Grounds, drinking ice tea and discussing wedding plans. While Melissa was happy she had found her bridesmaids and matron of honor, Jim had one more slot to fill, the most important one.

  “What about best man? I have no idea who to ask. Bruce, Jeff and Timothy have all agreed, but I don’t know if I want any of them to be my best man. A year ago, I would have asked Vince, but now…” Jim ended this thought in mid-sentence.

  Seeing the pain in his eyes that often came when he talked about his cousin, Melissa offered a suggestion. “How about your Uncle Phil? You two have grown really close these last few months. He’s a strong Christian. He loves you a great deal. I can’t think of anyone better.”

  Jim grinned. “You know, that’s a pretty good idea. I’ll ask him this weekend.”

  “Good. One problem down, 4,999 to go.” Melissa joked. Jim just stared at his glass blankly. Clearly something was on his mind.

  “Is there something wrong, dear?”

  “Nothing we need to talk about right now.”

  Melissa silently fumed. She hated when Jim acted like this. Sometimes he tried to ignore what was bothering him. She rarely let him get away with it and she wasn’t going to let it slide today either.

  “Jim, what is it?”

  “I know this is not something you will want to hear while we’re planning our wedding, but I don’t know if I’m cut out to be a reporter anymore.”

  “What?” This was news to Melissa.

  “I can only write humor columns so long. I want to do something serious with my career. I want to be a real reporter again, but the kind of stories I want to do, the Courier won’t print. I’ve been checking out some Christian magazines online and there’s a whole host of stories we’re not covering. The battle over explicit sex education in schools. The rise of
authors, actors, and musicians who are Christian. Lies put out by harmful cults posing as alternatives to traditional churches. Christian fathers taking a stronger but compassionate leadership role in the family. Stay-at-home moms. The success of homeschooling. The persecution of Christians around the world. Ending human trafficking. Funding human Christian relief agencies fighting AIDS in Africa and poverty in the Philippines. Mainstream news agencies don’t care about those stories unless they’re on the religion page. These stories matter and shouldn’t be buried in the back of the paper.

  “I want to be a real journalist! I feel narrow thinking has blinded me to the truth for years. If someone did something good for someone else, I looked for the hidden motive. If it wasn’t there, sometimes I exaggerated things to make the do-gooder look bad. I cared more about the story than the people. I proved that with Vince.” Jim took a deep breath. “Being a reporter may have been good for my ego, but it isn’t good for my soul. I need to leave the Courier before I believe I’m as great as the promotions department makes me out to be. Maybe I should look into teaching journalism at a college somewhere. I wouldn’t mind trying to clean up some of the rank one-sidedness in journalism today.”

  Melissa, who had been patiently listening, suddenly had an idea. “Are you serious about the teaching thing?”

  “Yeah, I think I am. Why?”

  “Well, like I’ve said before: ‘You’re an investigative reporter. Go investigate’. You talked about the Christian magazine websites you looked into. I’m sure you can find a couple of job websites as well.”

  “Sounds like a good idea.”

  —

  12:23 p.m. Tuesday, May 26

  Two weeks later, Jim was having lunch at Red Robin with Dr. Fred MacKinnon, chairman of the communications department at Foothill University. The university was a 7,500-student private Christian college that accepted believers and non-believers alike. Melissa and Fred were both members of the California Christian Journalists Society. Fred had mentioned an opening at a meeting earlier that year. Jim called to confirm the position was still open and arrange a meeting to discuss the particulars.

  “You expressed your desire to get into teaching and I think we have an opportunity that might interest you. One of our professors is taking a job at another college and we would like to fill his position rather than just assign the classes to other faculty. Basically, we’re looking for someone to teach three classes a semester and advise the campus paper. With your real-world experience as well as your faith, you are an ideal candidate. What do you think?”

  “That kind of offer makes it hard for a guy to say ‘no’.” Jim chuckled. “I’m definitely interested. What’s the next step?”

  “You can download the application from the website and get started there. We have a couple of other candidates, but they don’t have the same experience you do. I can’t say anything for certain, but it definitely looks positive.”

  They spent the rest of the lunch talking about the specifics of the job. When their server dropped off the bill, Fred pulled out his credit card before Jim could pick up the slip.

  “Don’t worry,” Fred waved his hand at Jim. “If things work out, you’ll pay me back by speaking at the new student orientation this fall.” They both laughed as they left their booth.

  —

  The summer had gone by faster than Jim expected. When he wasn’t at work writing his lighthearted columns he was with Melissa, either on a date or, more often, making arrangements for the wedding. The wedding invitation list had 450 people on it, but Melissa figured about 300 would attend. Like many men headed to the altar, Jim was happy to let Melissa take the lead on many of the decisions, but he often gave his opinion on reception food or party favors and the like. They got into the occasional heated argument over some minor issue that seemed so silly once they were done bickering.

  Jim was starting to feel more comfortable at church as well. Each week he recognized more and more people and those people knew him by sight as well as by name. He spent less time asking Melissa where a certain passage was in the Bible. He was able to quickly skim through the pages and find the relevant verses. At first, Jim was hesitant to take notes in the margins of his Bible. I write all over official reports at work, yet I am afraid to make a mark in the book Pastor Will calls ‘God’s Instruction Manual for Life’, he chastised himself. How else will I remember a powerful insight unless I write it down next to passage that inspired it?

  Things at work were good but sad at the same time. He enjoyed his work, but he knew he would be leaving it soon. Jim gave Ken Flaherty and Ted Nelson both a month’s notice. They tried to talk him out of leaving, but they knew they would lose that battle. When Jim Mitchell made up his mind, there was no changing it.

  —

  3:47 p.m. Friday, August 21

  His last day in the office was bittersweet. Ken, Ted and Dan Palms, along with a dozen other reporters took him out to lunch. They talked about his early days at the paper, with Dan sharing the first story.

  “I remember Jim’s first month on the job. He was assigned to do the night cops beat when Dale Henzie was out sick for a couple of days. So, it’s about nine-thirty and Jim has his ear glued to the police scanner. All of a sudden he came running up to me and said some local councilman was involved in a homicide. He grabbed his camera and before I could ask him for any details, he was out the door.

  “He comes back forty-five minutes later, looking just terrible. I asked him what happened. He said when he got the crime scene he learned the suspect had the same last name as the councilman, but was someone completely different. I told him he might want to call the police station next time to check out the details.”

  Everyone laughed at the story, even Jim. The meal was filled with such tales, frequently followed by hearty chuckling. When they got back to the office, everybody was in a lighthearted mood.

  Jim did little work that afternoon. His final column had been finished for a week now and all he had to do was some paperwork. They had thrown an office party for him the Friday before because the publisher knew he would be out of town the next week. As he sat at his desk daydreaming for a few moments, Jim admired the framed caricature drawn by the paper’s editorial cartoonist. The artist had drawn Jim in the same pose he had been in on the billboard: his sleeves rolled up and tie loosened, holding the Courier but facing front. Added to the depiction was a court jester’s hat on Jim’s head. I sure am going to miss this place.

  Jim looked at his watch and noticed it was almost 4 p.m. For the first time since he started at the paper, Jim was planning to leave early. He simply had nothing left to do. He was collecting the few belongings on his desk when his phone rang.

  It’s probably Aunt Patty wanting to know when I’m coming over for dinner.

  “Courier, this is Jim.”

  “Hello, James. It’s been a while since we last spoke. I read the other day you were leaving the paper. What a shame.”

  Jim wracked his brain to try to figure out to whom the voice on the other end of the line belonged. He felt a definite chill when he made the identification. It’s him.

  “Jeremiah?”

  “Very good, James. Very good.” The fugitive’s chuckle was devoid of any warmth. “Since it’s your last day and all, I thought I would give you something exciting to write about. Does that sound good to you?”

  Jim was so shocked he was unable to respond to the taunt.

  “As we speak, I am sitting in my car outside city hall. I have arranged for the good councilman Holcombe to meet me here. He thinks I want to move my business into downtown Emerald Valley. Boy, will he be surprised when I show up.” Jeremiah gave another mirthless laugh. “The time has come for Larry Holcombe to pay for what he did to me…and the others.”

  “What are you planning to do, Jeremiah?”

  “Why don’t you come on down and find out?” Jeremiah abruptly ended the call.

  Jim leapt out of his chair and half-ran the 20 feet to Dan’s
cubicle. He interrupted Dan as he was editing a metro feature on a local pet activist.

  “Aren’t you supposed to be leaving in a few minutes?” the editor asked with a smile.

  “My departure plans have been delayed a bit. I just got a call from Jeremiah Harmon. He said he was waiting outside Emerald Valley City Hall. He told me he had a meeting with Councilman Holcombe “

  “And what exactly does he want to say to Holcombe?”

  “I don’t know, but it didn’t sound good.” Jim glanced down at the notepad where he had recorded Jeremiah’s comments. “He said, and I quote, ‘The time has come for Larry Holcombe to pay for what he did to me and the others’. He invited me to come along and watch the festivities.”

  “I wonder if the police know what’s going on yet,” Dan wondered out loud. “You should give them a call first.”

  “I’ll call P.J. on the road. So, can I go cover the last story of my career? You owe me that much.”

  “I owe it to your fiancée not to get you killed.” Dan considered the request. “OK, you can go. But I want you to stay in the background. Why don’t we see if Henzie is free to cover the story?”

  Dan and Jim walked over to the cluttered desk of cops reporter Dale Henzie. He was writing a story about a string of robberies at a local shopping center when the two approached. Dan explained the situation and asked for his help.

  “Sure. We can probably hold this story a day anyway.” Dale saved his article on the computer and packed his satchel with some supplies. He grabbed a couple granola bars out of the bottom desk drawer in case the incident went past dinnertime.

  Dan went quickly over to the photo department, where Robbie Garcia and Katie Wallace were uploading digital photographs onto the computer and cleaning up the images by removing unwanted specs and enhancing some of the colors a little. Jeff Wang was killing time while waiting for a 5:30 p.m. assignment.