The Death of Kevin Frye
By Coleen Frazer-Hambrick
Jesus the Son and
The Holy Spirit
Without whom nothing could be accomplished.
Copyright © 2010 by Coleen Frazer-Hambrick
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. For information e-mail Mrs. Frazer-Hambrick at [email protected]
“Good morning. Beautiful day; isn’t it?” Jazz smiled.
Victor’s normally dark expression, accentuated by his dark eyes and short dark beard, brightened when he saw her smile. “It’s snowing.”
“Yeah, I know.” she shivered. He wanted to take her in his arms and warm her, but walked with her toward her office instead. They ignored the other personnel already busy at work.
“Got any plans this weekend?” she asked.
“No, not really, except to ask you out tonight.” Victor replied quietly, not intending for her to hear him.
“Okay, what time?” she asked as she pulled off her hat, revealing beautiful dark hair.
“Does seven sound good?”
“It sounds good to me. Do you know where I live?”
“No,” he lied.
“I live on 1716 Pinedale, apartment fourteen.”
“That’s not far from me!”
She reached up to pat his shoulder, smiling. As she walked away she shot one more glance at him. He watched her for a moment, and then turned toward his own office.
Back at his desk, he picked up a report, his mind far away from his work. He shook his head at himself. He should never have let himself fall for her. He stared out a nearby window at the snow. How could he express to her his feelings? He loved her, he’d loved her for a long time now, but she wasn’t aware of it. Or was she?
At five o’clock, Jazz gathered her things to leave the office, but before she could get to the elevator, Keri caught her.
“So, is all the buzz true?”
“What buzz?”
“Seriously, Jazz. It’s the biggest news since Chad pulled a full Monty at least year’s New Year’s party.”
“What is it you want to know, Keri?”
“You and Victor?”
“Oh, that.”
“So it is true.”
“You’re acting like we’re in high school. Yes, Keri, I’m going out with Victor.”
“Well, it’s about time. The sexual tension in the office has been almost unbearable.”
“Oh, my gosh, Keri!”
“I’m just saying...” Keri caught a glimpse of Victor coming up behind Jazz. She walked away smiling mischievously, leaving her sentence trailing.
“See you tonight; right?”
“I’ll pick you up at seven.”
“Where are we going?”
“See you at seven.”
Jazz smiled as she watched him walk away, glad he was finally getting the message. She wondered why it seemed to take him so long to get up the nerve to ask her out. He didn’t seem the type to be shy, but he always seemed to hesitate around her. Still, she sensed something in him she’d not seen in any of the others she’d dated. A small voice told her that she probably shouldn’t encourage a relationship with him, but he intrigued her so much that she ignored the voice, deciding that it was probably because he was older. At the apartment, she began to prepare for their first date.
When Victor arrived at Jazz’s apartment and knocked, he felt nervous. He hoped she wasn’t like the others. After a few moments, Jazz opened the door.
“Hi. I’m almost ready. Would you like to come in? I just have to get my coat.”
“Sure,” he replied.
While Victor waited he assessed the room, habitually checking out possible escape routes. Her apartment was just big enough for a couple with no kids. On his right was a small kitchenette, to the left, her bedroom, a window by the door, and by the television, but no back door.
On his left beside the bedroom door, Victor noticed a small Christmas tree standing proudly beside a fireplace with a nativity on the mantle.
Something about the little Christmas decorations touched his heart. Thoughtfully he fingered a glass bottle with a tiny red Christmas ship sailing on a blue glass ocean. The ornament looked like an antique. The fresh, clean pine aroma from the tree accentuated a feeling he could not name, but liked. It gave him a sense of home that he’d not had for a very long time.
“I was just finished getting ready and was on my way to get my coat and gloves when you rang the doorbell. Sorry to keep you waiting.”
“You look great.”
“Thank you,” she said reaching down to pet a longhaired Siamese cat curled up on the couch. Jazz scratched her head.
“She sure has huge paws.” Victor commented, while helping Jazz into her coat.
“Shhh… Owshegotme is sensitive.” Jazz laughed.
Victor gave Jazz a puzzled look, “‘Ow she’...what?”
“Ow-she-got-me.” Jazz repeated slowly, “I call her Owie for short. She has a bad habit of jumping on my shoulder from the ground, especially when I have food. My back is all scratched up.”
When they were ready, he held the door open for her as they left the apartment, and as she got into his little black Intimidator convertible.
“Nice car,” she commented as she rubbed her hands along the leather interior.
Pleased with her compliments, he started the engine. Quiet, powerful vibrations set the car in motion.
“Something tells me you have a taste for the fast lane.”
“What gave you that idea?”
“The car mostly. It’s a go-fast car.”
“I’ll give you a drive in the summer with the top down. We’ll have to find a place way out in the country, and let it go. It’s got a lot of power, and I’m always in danger of getting a ticket.”
“I’ll bet.”
They drove out of town to the parking lot of the Romantic Knights restaurant and pub. It looked like a medieval castle, complete with a moat filled with rushing water.
“I’ve always wanted to come here,” Jazz laughed as they crossed the drawbridge pathway.
“I’m glad I get to be the one who takes you first.” Victor opened a huge, oak door with intricate carvings of knights, gargoyles, and dragons. When they got inside, he spoke to the hostess who led them to their table by a large window. A waitress handed them menus and took their drink order.
The restaurant was as medieval on the inside as on the outside. Dark tapestries were hanging on the walls by booths. On one wall, a huge fireplace with a roast suckling pig rotated on a skewer. Savory aromas came from the kitchen, along with the clatter of pots and pans. Through the speakers soft classical music played. Sconces in the walls, like the torches Jazz had seen in movies, gave the restaurant dim light, highlighting the medieval look. She almost expected Merlin to come stalking out of the kitchen wearing a druid robe, an ill-tempered scowl on his face and an owl perched on his shoulder.
“This is really nice,” Jazz scanned the menu, but almost lost a gasp when she saw the cost of the selections.
“What are you going to order?” Victor asked as he also searched the choices.
“I’m not sure, what are you going to have?”
“The steak and lobster is one of my favorite dinners here. The steak absolutely melts in your mouth.”
“I think I’ll have steak.”
Victor nodded as the waitress returned with their drinks and took their order.
From their window they could see the snow covered Oklahoma countryside beneath a clouded sky illuminated by the lights from town. “What a beautiful night,” Jazz exclaimed. “I love to come out this way at night in winter, especially on a crystal clear night. The stars are so sharp and bright it’s almost painful.”
“But tonight is cloudy.”
“Yes, but that’s wonderful, too. Look how heavy those clouds are! And it looks like we’re going to have another snow. I love this time of year.”
“Winter?”
“Yeah. Sunshine is nice, but I love the rain and snow storms we sometimes have too. Gray cold days make everything seem so cozy in the house.”
“You’re the first person I’ve ever heard talk about winter that way.”
Jazz laughed, “So what brought you to Prairie Oak?”
“You did.”
“Me?”
“Yeah, from the moment I saw you I knew I was supposed to be here.”
“Seriously, Victor,” Jazz blushed, not realizing the truth he’d revealed.
“I needed a change. I’d been living in Houston, and decided to move. I wasn’t really sure where I should go, or what I ought to do. Passing through on my way to Tulsa, I decided I’d stay here. Got the job at the magazine, and… well you know the rest.”
“You look too young to be going through mid-life crisis.”
“There are a lot of crises besides mid-life,” he said as he took another sip from his wine.
“You’re much too serious. You’ve got to lighten up.”
“Okay. I’ll give it a shot, but you’ll have to be patient with me. I don’t do light very easily. What brought you here?”
“I worked at a bank, got tired of living in a big city. I got the job with the magazine and moved. Did you know I’m from Houston?”
“I think you mentioned it once,”
“Have you lived anywhere else besides Houston?”
“My job took me a lot of places. I got tired of traveling all the time, that’s why I decided on the magazine. It’s pretty steady. The money isn’t great, but it’s enough to live on for awhile, at least until I decide what I want to do.”
Their dinner arrived and it was as good as the aroma promised. The steak almost melted in their mouths, satisfying their delicate sensory organs. They ate, relishing the potatoes and grilled vegetable sides that came with the meal.
After they ate, they chose a rich chocolate volcano dessert topped with vanilla ice cream and crystallized coffee. Each ordered a cup of coffee to go with the dessert.
“That was great, thanks Victor.” Jazz said as they drove out of the parking lot.
“What movie would you like to see?”
“Quite honestly, I really don’t want to go to a movie.”
“Okay, do you want to go home?”
“No, what I’d really like to do is take a walk. It’s hard to have a conversation in a movie. Besides, after that meal, I feel I really need to walk it off. Let’s make that another time.”
Victor was quick to pick up on the cues; yes, there would be another time. He would make sure of that.
“It’s cold outside.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“Okay, how about the little park downtown?”
“That sounds good to me.”
The glittering snow reflecting the Christmas lights made the park more beautiful than usual. Victor wanted to put his arm around her or hold her hand, but still wasn’t quite sure whether she’d accept it, so he buried his hands deeper in his leather coat.
“One thing I have noticed,” Jazz commented, picking up the thread of conversation from dinner, “is that you don’t smile and laugh much.”
“I forget to.” He replied, momentarily taken off his guard.
“How could you forget?”
“Jazz, my life hasn’t been one where good clean laughter happens very easily.”
“You need to let more color in.”
“I’m working on that.”
The Christmas lights on her face hid her blush, but he knew she completely understood what he was saying. “Is your name short for Jasmine?”
“Actually my name is Jasmine Rose. People have shortened it to Jazz. Sometimes my dad calls me Jazzy-Rose. I like that, but I don’t tell every one.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s Dad’s name for me.”
“You’re close to your dad?”
“Yeah, we’re a lot alike, and we both enjoy Christmas”
“What’s so special about Christmas to you, Jazz?”
“I love the lights, the festivity and the warmth, even when the weather’s cold. Mostly, though, I like what Christmas stands for.”
Almost forgetting her as they walked, Victor wanted to ask why people care about a guy who was born over two thousand years ago. His mind wandered and then suddenly he realized he’d been quiet longer than he’d intended.
“Jazz, I’m sorry. I sometimes forget when people are with me.”
“You must be alone a lot. Why?”
“It’s just the way my life has turned out,”
Jazz smiled, gently patting his shoulder.
“What makes you so different?” he asked quietly.
“I didn’t think I was all that different from any other girl.” She laughed.
“You’re different than the girls I’ve known. I like the difference.”
“Thanks. “
“Are you getting cold?” he asked as he noticed her shiver.
“A little, would you like to come to my apartment for coffee?”
“No, I’d better not drink coffee this late. We’ll make that another time.”
They got back to his car and drove back to her apartment. Victor walked Jazz to her door.
“I’ve really enjoyed tonight. I hope you weren’t disappointed about not going to a movie.”
“No, not at all. I enjoyed the company.”
“I’ve enjoyed the evening too.”
Not sure what she expected, he bent down to kiss her but she put her hand to his chest.
“Victor, I think you’re a neat guy and I’d like to go out again sometime, but I’m not ready for that yet.”
“Uh, yeah, I guess,” he stammered, embarrassed that he’d tried.
“Okay. Will I see you at the office Monday?”
“Yeah, I’ll be there… Jazz, I’m sorry, I hope I didn’t make you mad.”
She smiled, “No, I just don’t like to rush into any relationship.”
“Okay, I...uh...Jazz, since I’ve already made a fool of myself tonight, would you like to do something tomorrow?”
“Did you have something in mind?”
“Well, there’s the Prairie Oak Holiday Festival going on tomorrow. Would you like to go?”
“Sounds like fun. What time?”
“How ‘bout if I pick you up in the morning after breakfast? We can eat lunch at one of the vendors.”
“Okay. Thanks for the great evening.”
Victor walked to his car and waved; glad he’d asked.
Back in his sparse apartment he cleaned his favorite handgun methodically, unaware of the dark image an old mirror reflected back at him. He could have kicked himself for trying to kiss her. What made him think she wanted that now? Finally, he switched the light off and lay down, but the thoughts of their evening together brought a terrible weight on him. He was tired of sleeping alone, tired of being alone. He flicked the lamp back on and pulled the drawer open to fish out an old, wrinkled photograph of her. Dark thoughts floated through his brain until he finally drifted to sleep.
In the morning, as planned, they drove to the festival located in the Prairie Oak Veterans Memorial Park located outside town. A golden highway of clouds streamed from the nine o’clock sun to the glorious still visible full moon. Icy wind blew as the two walked through the parking lot to the entrance of the indoor park and waited in line to enter the huge building.
The warm summer-like air was a nice change from the freezing temperature outside. A plethora of carnival food and coffee aromas came drifting to Jazz and Victor as they took their coats to a locker beside the front door. Then they began their walk through the park, meandering through the craft and artisan booths set up on the grass.
Near the swimming pool, they stopped at a booth where a tall, thin man with long gray hair and beard sat talking to potential customers. A four-foot stained glass peacock hanging from a cherry wood frame caught Jazz’s eye. Victor could see she loved the glass that scattered jeweled light on the ground from the sun shining through the Plexiglas roof.
Catching the vendor’s attention while she was distracted, Victor whispered, “How much?”
The vendor winked as he whispered the price.
“Here,” Victor slipped the man a wad of bills, “I’ll be back later. Wrap it in paper; would you?” the man nodded. Victor and Jazz were soon on their way to another vendor.
“Are you getting hungry?” Jazz asked a little while later.
“I’m beginning to. What sounds good to you?”
“Soup sounds really good.”
“Let’s stop at that soup and salad restaurant we passed by the pool.”
“Okay.”
They turned around and went back to the sidewalk café and ordered, then found a quiet place on the grass and sat down.
“I like sitting on the grass, but the only place to do it is here. There aren’t any bugs to bite.”
“You can in California. No chiggers.”
“You’ve lived in California?”
“No, but I had business to do there once. Nice place, but very crowded. I think I like Oklahoma better.”
“You’ve been a lot of places on business. What did you do?”
“I was head exterminator for a big company.” Victor replied vaguely, “I got tired of it.”
“I’ve never heard of an exterminator traveling like you did.”
“I specialized in rats.” he muttered, “They were big. It wasn’t pleasant.”
“Rats? I don’t like rats.”
“Neither do I. Is your soup good?”
“Yeah, it’s great. I love New England clam. I’d like to go there some day in the fall. I want to get some photos of the autumn trees and lighthouses.” Jazz sipped appreciatively at the soup.
“Maybe we could go together. I’ve been there, it’s very beautiful.”
“Maybe. We’ll just have to see. Are you done eating?”
“Just about,” Victor finished the last of his soup and stood up holding out his hand to help her up. Her touch made him feel strangely nervous. He picked up their trash and threw it away.
“Let’s go back to the vendor booths, there’s a restroom near the pool.” Jazz said as she pointed past the vendor selling the stained glass.
They walked back. While she was inside, Victor ducked back and picked up his treasure.
“Scoring some points?” the grinning vendor asked.
“No, it’s more along the lines of a thank you,” Victor replied.
“Well, it’s going to score you some points. He’ll be glad to be with her.”
“Who?”
“The peacock.”
Ignoring the odd comment, Victor turned quickly almost running into a young man of medium build, with a freckled face and reddish hair that was combed into a fan Mohawk. They glanced in each other’s face. Neither spoke. Victor committed his appearance to memory.
Acting on instinct, he began to walk the opposite way from the restrooms, where he’d left Jazz. He recognized something he knew well in the hard eyes, but he wanted to make sure he wasn’t imagining things. If he was correct, the man would follow him, and he’d have to find a way to lose him. He should have been more careful, especially with Jazz. He scowled at his mistake, hoping it wouldn’t bite him later.
When he thought it was safe, he glanced backwards nonchalantly to see if the man was behind him. Yes, he was still there, but not as close.
Now he had to find a way to lose the shadow, whoever he was. He wandered through the park awhile, trying to decide what to do. By now, Jazz was wondering where he was. Would she wait for him there, or would she start wandering around looking for him? What was he going to say to her when he finally rejoined her? As crowded and as big as this place was, he doubted if she’d find him, but he didn’t want her to find him. He had to keep this guy occupied and away from Jazz.
He made his way to the park entrance, and saw the man slink behind him toward the front door. After leaving the entrance, Victor made his way to the far side of the parking lot. When he felt he was a safe distance he began to wander as if he’d forgotten where he’d parked. He expertly walked by each car, feeling in wheel wells, looking in windows, moving on to the next car.
As he walked an idea came to him. Casually Victor stopped, rested the package against his knees and pulled his cell phone out of its holster. He dialed, and then began to walk again.
“Jazz?” he asked.
“Victor? Where are you?”
“Listen, something’s come up, and I have to leave, I’ll explain it later.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I can’t talk now. Go to our locker, and you’ll find my car keys with your coat. Take my car home.”
“What’s going on? How are you going to get back?”
“Don’t worry about me, I’ll come by later. Okay?”
“Victor you sound like you’re in trouble. What can I do?”
“Nothing, just take my car home.” He hung up. The temptation to add, “I love you,” was too overwhelming for him to linger on the phone any longer. She wasn’t ready for that, he wasn’t sure if he was either.
He pocketed his cell phone and continued his search. He stopped at a white jeep, looked in the window and found the keys sitting in the console, almost blending in with the dark interior. He opened the door, slid into the driver’s seat and started the jeep, driving quickly out of the parking lot. As Victor pulled out on the highway, he noticed a red sports car pull out behind him. He could just make out the guy’s head with the unusual Mohawk.
Jazz clicked her cell phone off, confused. What was going on? He acted so strange sometimes.
She went back to the front desk to retrieve the keys and her coat. Her active imagination started on several paths, none of which made sense. She hoped he would be back soon.
As she sat in her apartment, Jazz desperately tried to keep the tears and her anger from overwhelming her. Picking up her cell phone, she started to dial his number. “No. If he’s going to dump me because I didn’t let him kiss me last night, good riddance... but if he didn’t like it, why did he ask me out today? It just doesn’t make sense.”
At a loss of what to do, Jazz stayed home. She didn’t want to miss Victor when he came, she had too many questions she wanted to ask, and as time went on her anger built. In the evening, she took her shower and slipped into her favorite green silk pajamas and slippers, but she didn’t go to bed. She plugged a movie into the DVD player and lay on the couch. Owie jumped up purring as if she knew Jazz needed some comfort. The animal curled into a ball and fell asleep as Jazz scratched her ears.
She yawned. The movie was just into the introduction when she closed her eyes, lost in the vague voices of a storyline she almost knew by heart. Suddenly she flinched, a soft knock at her door startled her into wakefulness. She glanced at the clock, and saw that it was only 8:30. Hoping she didn’t look the wreck she felt, she looked out the fisheye peephole. Victor was standing there, waiting for her to open the door. Quickly she brushed the stray hair away from her face and opened for him.
Victor noticed her strained voice as she invited him in and felt rotten. He came in and leaned his gift on a wall. Jazz, ignoring the brown wrapped package, went back to the kitchen and poured a cup of tea. “Do you want some?” she asked, trying to act normal.
“Yeah, it sounds really good.” Victor answered, angered by his clumsy response. How was he going to get past this without telling her the truth? The disgust he felt at himself deepened.
Jazz poured his tea, and picked up his keys from her counter. “Here are your keys. Victor, I’m not going to beat around the bush. What happened today?”
“Can we sit down?”
“Sure.” She wasn’t exactly warm, but he sensed she wasn’t ready to toss him out either. He sat down with her on the couch. He picked up her hand, “I’m sorry for today. That’s not the way I intended the day to go.”
“I’m still pretty angry,” she responded, “but I’m trying to let you give the explanation.”
“An old colleague of mine called from the emergency room here in town. Since he’s just here on business, he didn’t know who else to call. I stayed with him until a doctor could see him, then the doctor gave him some powerful pain medicine, and I needed to take him back to his hotel. I just got back from there.”
Is he going to be okay?” doubt apparent in her voice.
“Yeah, he was on the roof of a two story building. Squirrels had been getting in the attic and were chewing the wires. He slipped and fell into bushes. He’s bruised, but okay.”
Victor let her take her time with his story. He felt that if he said anything else at this moment, he would tell her the whole truth. He wasn’t ready for that, and knew she wasn’t ready for it either.
She sat silent a moment, staring at his hand holding hers. She’d wanted him to ask her out for a long time. She enjoyed being with him but what was she supposed to think with this? If it had been anyone else but Victor she’d probably not want to see him again, but somehow she couldn’t just blow him off. For this few minutes they were silent, the only words that came to her mind were, “second chance.”
“Okay Victor,” she said aloud, “just don’t do that again. Does your friend need any more help?”
“No, the doctor said he’d be able to drive himself to the airport tomorrow. He’s going back to Houston in the morning. Does this mean I’m forgiven?”
Jazz gave him a half smile, “Are you hungry?”
“I’m famished. But first I want you to come here for a minute.”
He pulled Jazz to the package.
“What’s going on with this?” Jazz looked at him a moment, not sure what to say or to expect.
Victor smiled, “Open it.” He placed her hand on the paper. Gingerly she tore the wrapper and gasped, admiring the colors as she balanced the peacock glass on the floor with her hand.
“Victor, this is so extravagant, I saw the price. I can’t accept this.”
Victor’s face dropped, he hadn’t expected her to not want it. “I thought you liked it, have I done something wrong again?”
“No, you haven’t done anything wrong, but you didn’t have to buy this to make up for today.”
“But I didn’t. Remember when you first saw it? I could tell you liked it, and I wanted to make up to you after I tried to kiss you last night. You never made me feel like you thought I was the idiot I felt myself to be.”
“Stop it Victor. You’re a lot of fun to be with.”
“I wasn’t much fun today.”
“Never mind, I love it”
“So what do you think? Will it go in the front window?”
“But…”
“Let’s see what we need to put this thing up. Do you have tools?”
“Yeah, but I don’t know what kind of hangers to use.”
“Don’t worry about that. Let’s see what you have.”
Jazz pulled out her toolbox and various hooks she had on hand to display her photographs. It didn’t take long before the peacock was hanging in the window. They stood back admiring it for a moment, and then went to the counter.
Jazz took left over chicken pot pie out of the fridge and put some on a plate, then microwaved it. When she opened the door and put it in front of him, the aroma made his stomach growl.
“Did you make this?” Victor asked between mouthfuls.
“Yeah, it’s an old recipe of my mom’s. It’s great on a cold night.”
Victor nodded his head, then when his mouth was clear said, “The glass will look a lot nicer with the sun shining through it. Are you doing anything tomorrow?”
“I go to church in the morning. Would you like to come? We could have dinner here.”
“To church? I’m not sure, Jazz. I’ve only been to church once. That was a very long time ago.”
“They’re really friendly,” she told him, “but if you’d rather not, you can come over after I get back.”
Victor was quiet a moment, then asked, “Why do you go to church? It seems like more trouble than its worth.”
Jazz’s eyes expressed unusual surprise. “I’m the only one that’s asked me that before.”
Victor laughed, “What do you mean?”
“A couple of years ago, I asked myself why I go to church. I was trying to decide if I wanted to go because I wanted to, or because it made Mom and Dad happy.”
“What did you decide?”
“I decided I was going because I like being a Christian. It’s hard to explain, I don’t expect you to understand if you aren’t one.”
“Why? What’s so special about a guy who was killed a couple of thousands of years ago?”
“You’re asking a tough question. I can’t really tell you why I believe. I think a lot of it has to do with the way I was raised. I guess if I was reading my Bible the way I’m supposed to, I could answer your questions better.”
“If you believe the Bible, why don’t you read it?”
“I don’t know. I can’t even say I don’t have time. I just don’t take the time. I guess I figure I can learn all I need at church.”
An insistent voice told Victor he’d be sorry if he went to church, but he hated to tell her no, especially after the fiasco of today. Maybe going to church wouldn’t be so bad. Christians were like anyone else. There would be the good and the bad, but he wished she’d not asked.
“Could I pick you up for breakfast?”
“That would be nice. I’d like that. Hey, let’s just go to the service. It starts at 11:00. If you like it, we can go to Sunday school another time. Would that make you feel a little better about going?”
“Will you miss it if you skip?”
“It doesn’t hurt to skip once in awhile.”
“Okay. We’ll have breakfast and I’ll try your church, but now I think I need to go home. I’m really exhausted.” Victor put on his coat, and together they walked out the door. An icy wind whipped around the corner. I’ll see you tomorrow, and I promise I won’t try to kiss you this time.”
“Thanks, Victor. Attempted kisses can be expensive.” Jazz laughed, “I’ll see you tomorrow morning around 8:45?”
“Yep.”
Victor hesitated in the frozen wind. “Jazz, I know you don’t want a kiss, but I’d really like to thank you for forgiving me for today. Is a hug safe?”
“Sure, why not.”
For the first time in their friendship, Victor gathered her up in his arms, as he’d wanted to for months. She slid her arms around his waist. His arms enfolded her to himself, warming her in the cold air. Closing his eyes his imagination took him places Jazz would not have wanted him to go if she’d known.
The longer he held her the more difficult he found keeping his desire for her under control. It would be much easier to apologize later than ask permission now. He could take her back into her apartment. No one would be able to stop him, not even Jazz. They would call it rape... but he didn’t want it to be rape. It could wait until tomorrow, they’d have all day together and he’d have plenty of time to make it their idea, not just his. But tomorrow was too far away. He wanted her now. He held her more tightly to himself. “Now” pounded in his ears.
Jazz had never experienced a man holding her as Victor held her at that moment, perfectly communicating urgent desire. With a thrill of intimacy, she could feel the short stubble of his beard through her hair and for the first time in her life she saw a glimpse of what married life would be like as she enjoyed the security his arms gave her. Caught up in the thrill of his embrace, the feelings aroused by the nearness of his body called her to give him what they both wanted.
Victor kissed her neck momentarily sending ecstasy through her, and then he moved his lips close to her ear, “I almost ruined our friendship today. Thanks.” A moment longer in his arms, then he released her.
“Maybe I should have let you kiss me, Victor,” Jazz laughed a little breathlessly, “that was some hug.”
He turned and walked down the stairs toward his car, waving to her before he got in.
She waved back as he drove away. As soon as she saw his tail lights disappear around the corner, she went back into her warm apartment.
Preparing for bed, a million thoughts swirled in her mind, all centering on one subject.
Part of her brain told her she should end it right here and never let him take her out again, but her heart whispered that she’d already fallen for him and it was too late for both of them. If she didn’t know he wanted more than friendship before that embrace, she certainly knew it now.
Owie jumped on the bed meowing. She snuggled her nose in Jazz’s cheek, Jazz lifted the covers and the cat crawled in and lay down purring next to Jazz’s warm body.
Victor glanced in the rear view mirror as he drove away, watching her door shut as he turned the corner from her apartment. He drove around two blocks. No one could be observed following him, he did not see headlights behind him or the red sports car beneath the passing streetlights.
Back on her street he turned his lights off and pulled to a stop beneath a tree near her apartment. In spite of the cold he turned his engine off.
Patiently he sat for an hour forcing his brain to put everything out except the details of the day. Who was the shadow? Why was he tailing them? Whom did he work for? Was he an amateur? He seemed to be.
He glanced at Jazz’s window just in time to see the lights go off. He kept wondering if she was thinking about him. Obviously she knew what he was feeling, what his desire was. How could she not know? He wanted her to know, but how would she feel about him when he told her the truth?
He yawned and shivered wishing for her in his arms. He had to get some sleep. He left the apartment and returned to his own dreary place. He dragged himself to his room, stripped to his T-shirt and boxers and crawled into bed, but found he could not relax enough to fall asleep.
Now that he didn’t have to focus, his mind became a jumbled mass of thoughts, one crowding into the other. The feel of her warm body in his arms brought healing and pain to his body and soul. In spite of the cold he began to sweat. He turned on his side, staring out the window.
At the door of her apartment, the cat ran up beside him winding her way around his legs. He reached down and scratched her ears. She looked up at him and meowed.
Jazz opened the door to his knock. She was wearing a maroon dress but was barefoot. Owie darted in the warm living room while Jazz invited Victor to come in. “Sorry Victor, I woke up a little late, I’m almost ready. I’ll be out in a minute.”
“That’s okay. I’m a little early, take your time. I’m not in a hurry.” And that was the truth. He didn’t want to spend Sunday alone, but spending it in church wasn’t exactly his idea of a good time either. He sat on the couch and waited. The cat jumped into his lap.
After five minutes Jazz returned from her room and lifted Owie from Victor’s lap, stroking her head. She put the animal on the couch. “Thanks for waiting. Are you ready?”
“As ready as I can be.”
“Victor, you’ll be fine. Hey do you mind stopping at an art store on the way home? I have to pick up some photos they framed for me.”
“Sure, no problem.”
“Thanks.”
After breakfast, they drove toward the church and pulled into the parking lot. The brown building was roughly octagonal in shape with an extension, an obvious addition to the main building. The moment Victor’s feet touched the ice covered asphalt of the church parking lot, a sick feeling began to grow in his gut, weighting more heavily than the bacon and eggs in his stomach from breakfast. He could do nothing about it now. They walked through the door.
Contemporary Church music played while Jazz led Victor to a seat by the middle isle of the church. Although he would have preferred the back pew, he sat at the end of the row. There was nothing to do now except wait for the service to be over.
Soon a middle-aged man walked on stage to a simple wooden podium and smiled, “Good morning. As you know, Christmas is coming soon. If you still would like to volunteer to decorate the church....” Annoyed at the mundane business affairs, Victor wished the man would get on with it.
During the announcements, a red sports car slowed down, hesitated a moment then pulled into the parking lot and parked. The driver waited until he was sure the service started and then came in quietly, sitting down on the last row, next to a grandmother and her fifteen-year-old granddaughter. The woman scooted her granddaughter closer to her, eyeing the stranger nervously. “Typical”, the man thought to himself, ignoring the women.
The man at the podium finally stopped talking about church business and the music began. The man led the congregation with great depth of feeling. It was obvious he was in love with his music and Victor had to admit he enjoyed watching, even though he had little knowledge of the words to the songs the man led.
As he listened, he found there was something in his memory which made the old hymns they sang pleasantly familiar. What vague impression of a memory was he experiencing? As far as he knew he’d never been in church until his twelfth year and third set of foster parents. That was not a good experience at all. A feeling of peace seemed to settle on his soul.
Expertly the worship leader quieted the congregation with a brief interlude of prayer. Victor, who scoffed at church services before, felt an uncanny sensation, as if an unseen presence had entered and was, in fact, sitting beside him. He could almost hear a voice whisper to him, but he had no idea what that voice was saying.
The congregation seated themselves as a man came to take the worship leader’s place. He had close cut brown hair, a hawkish nose and piercing brown eyes which suggested to Victor that he was either slightly crazy or very passionate.
“Today we’re going to talk about prayer. You may ask, ‘Brother Jim, is my prayer really effective?’ This is one of the great mysteries and questions of Christians in every generation and around the world.
“‘How can I think my insignificant prayer can make any difference?’ Let me tell you my friend, it can make a difference because God loves you and wants to give you good gifts. Let’s see what Jesus had to say about prayer. Turn to John 14: 1-14.…”
As soon as the man began to speak, Victor found himself caught up with the words and with watching the preacher pace back and forth, sometimes on stage, sometimes up the isles. Once in awhile the preacher would stop in front of one member of the congregation, speaking to that person as if they were having a private conversation.
Victor liked what he heard and saw in the preacher. Through the weaving of his words, the idea that God might truly exist and was someone who loved him no matter what Victor was began to take shape in his heart. The answers to his questions were somewhere here, not in a relationship with Jazz. As he listened, he realized what he’d seen in the man wasn’t craziness it was passion. For the first time in years, this preacher helped him feel like there might be hope for him: hope for a future with Jazz, hope for a normal life.
He leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes. But suddenly he sat up again, sorrow almost choking him. How could God love him? If there really was a God, he certainly would know what kind of man Victor had become. No, he’d never feel peace. Why even try to change?
Victor’s ears picked up the thread of the preacher’s words again, “‘...I will do whatever you ask in my name, so that the Son may bring glory to the Father. You may ask me for anything in my name, and I will do it.’” The preacher closed his eyes and paused a moment to allow the words to sink in.
As if in answer to Victor’s slavery, he opened them again, walked to Victor, looked him in the eye and put his hand on his shoulder. Victor could not turn his eyes away from that piercing gaze that looked deep into his soul, “Let me tell you some good news friend: it doesn’t matter what you have done or who you are because God’s love and forgiveness isn’t based on what you have done or who you are. God’s love is based on what Jesus did on the cross and who He is. It doesn’t matter if you’ve committed the terrible act of murder or rape or are unforgiving toward your neighbor. God wants you for his child and he can help you make the changes you need to make through Jesus. He will change what you are now; He is the only one who can. With God nothing is impossible; he will always be The Gateway of Hope.” The preacher moved on.
What that did to him, Victor couldn’t quite grasp. He felt confused. Who was this guy? And why those particular words when his hope seemed to die within his own soul. Stunned and shaken, he suddenly felt an odd but familiar prickle in his neck. Obeying the instinct, he slowly turned his head, as if idly looking at nothing in particular. He stiffened when he saw the stranger with the Mohawk sitting behind them and to the left. Pretending not to notice him, Victor made another visual sweep across the sanctuary and when his gaze returned to the place the man had been sitting, he found the seat empty.
Suddenly he was aware of Jazz grabbing his hand and leading him out of the isle, “Come on, I want you to meet Pastor Jim,”
They caught up with the preacher who stood beside his wife. She had long dark hair, streaked with some gray. She seemed a strong woman, capable of keeping any man in check. “Pastor Jim, Andrea,” Jazz said, “this is Victor. He’s a co-worker.”
Both Andrea and Pastor Jim shook Victor’s hand with firm, honest grasps. They seemed genuine.
“Just a co-worker Jazz?” Pastor Jim grinned, eyes glinting.
“Yes, just a co-worker…”
“It’s nice to meet you Victor. Are you from here?” Andrea asked.
“No, I lived in Houston before coming.”
“Did you know Jazz in Houston?”
“No,”
The preacher looked into Victor’s eyes and held them; he squirmed inside.
“Well, Houston is a big place. It was a silly question. I hope you enjoyed our service. Do you attend a church?”
“No. I haven’t been to a church since I was a kid.”
“I hope you’ll come back. We may be small, but we have a lot to offer.”
“Thank you, sir.” They shook hands again,
They left the pastor and his wife, but as they were about to walk out the door, Jazz turned to the sound of a man’s voice calling out, “Jazz?”
“Oh hi, Mr. Ray. How are you?”
“I’m fine, how are your dad and mom?”
“Oh, they’re doing great. I’ll tell them you asked about them.”
“Thanks.”
“Mr. Ray, this is my friend Victor. Victor, this is our Chief of Police, Duncan Ray, he’s an old friend of the family.” Victor found himself shaking hands with a taller bald man of deep complexion. His face was lined and hard, it was obvious he’d seen much.
Cautiously Victor exchanged greetings with the chief, most definitely a man he did not want to know any more intimately than this brief encounter. Jazz soon led him away, but Victor could feel Chief Ray’s eyes staring after him.
Duncan scowled as he watched them walk away. He felt uneasy and wondered if Mike knew about his daughter’s friend. Something didn’t seem right.
Jazz led Victor out of the building and they returned to the car.
“Thanks for coming to church with me. I hope you didn’t mind Pastor Jim teasing us a little bit. He does it all the time. I’ll probably get it the next time I see him.”
“Why?”
“He was probably concerned about how you’d feel. He knows how to tease, but he also has a good sense when not to.”
“I see. I liked your pastor. He seems like a real person, not pretentious.”
“He is real. He and Andrea have gone through some difficult times. They even had some marital trouble, but their faith has made them stronger in their marriage.”
“You mean being a Christian doesn’t make things easier?”
“No, in fact I’d go so far as to say it makes things harder.”
“Why?”
Jazz laughed, “Victor, you sure aren’t afraid of asking hard questions. But that’s another one I can’t answer. I think it has something to do with Satan.”
“Satan? You mean a real person who is as evil as God is supposed to be good?”
“Something like that, but Satan isn’t as strong as God, and he loses in the end.”
“How do you know?”
“It says it in the last book of the Bible.”
“That seems fitting, being the last book.”
They got out of the car and walked toward the little art mall, a bell rang as they entered. Inside several shops surrounded an inner café. They walked into one with art from the local artists. Victor could see everything from furniture to jewelry, paintings, photographs and clothing.
Jazz picked up her photos, then fingered a few of the other pieces while commenting on each of them.
“I love this shop,” she finally said. The bell rang again, but Jazz didn’t think much about it. Victor, however, was on the alert. Cautiously he glanced around the room, He sensed a menace in the store, but wasn’t sure where the threat was; then he glanced behind him. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a shadow sneak on the other side of the window. “This place is a nightmare,” Victor thought to himself. They needed to leave now, but he wasn’t sure how he was going to get her to hurry.
He put his hand inside his jacket feeling comforted by the weight of the hardware under the cloth. Just one bullet would take care of the problem, but he didn’t want to have to take care of the problem with Jazz there, and it was too public a place anyway. His arrest was certain, and he knew Jazz would be lost to him, no matter what the outcome.
“I guess I’m ready,” she said without realizing she’d rescued him, “we need to get home. I have a roast in the slow cooker. I don’t want it to dry out.”
“A roast? That sounds good. We’d better hurry.”
When they arrived at the apartment, he was certain he’d lost the unwelcome guest, but was cautious as they walked to her door. As they entered, the aroma greeted them.
Jazz, it smells great.”
“I hope it is. I love roast on Sundays after church. I don’t get to cook one very often, not unless I have company. It’s too much for one to eat.”
“Sounds like a set up to me. You planned to ask me over for lunch anyway; didn’t you.”
“I guess I’m an easy read.” Jazz blushed, “You’re right. I’d already decided Friday night to ask you over for lunch today.”
Victor shook his head at her.
“What?”
“After yesterday, I’m surprised you even want me around.”
“Victor, one of the things about forgiveness is forgetting, too. It’s time to forget it.”
“That doesn’t sound easy to me. Forgiveness is hard enough, but forgetting? How do you do it?”
Jazz was silent a moment, then said, “I haven’t figured out how yet. But it doesn’t matter. I like being with you. Besides, I made you go to church with me. I should feed you too.”
“I have to warn you, Jazz, I’ve led a really rotten life. I don’t know if you want a fiend like me getting too involved with you. You’d better be careful,” his hazel eyes turned cold, but she missed the signal.
“Rotten is a pretty strong word. I need a little adventure in my life.”
“You don’t know what adventure is like.”
Jazz laughed, “You’re too serious, you need to loosen up. Hey, I think the roast is ready, let’s eat.”
“That sounds good to me,” Victor carefully folded his jacket and laid it on the couch.
“I could hang that up for you if you’d like,” Jazz suggested while laying her hand on the jacket.
“No, it’s okay,” he said, grabbing her wrist quickly, then moving his hand to hers, intertwining their fingers. She squeezed his hand, unaware of his fears.
She smiled and they sat down to eat.
“Do you have family?” Jazz asked, surprising Victor with the question.
“No, my parents died years ago. Why do you ask?”
“Well, if you don’t have anywhere to go, I’d like you to come over for Christmas.”
“Are you sure about traveling with a man you barely know? Especially after that man just told you he is a fiend.”
“We’ve worked together for a long time now. I know I’ll be alright.”
“I’m not sure Jazz. You said you didn’t want to rush into a relationship. Isn’t this like taking me home to meet the folks?”
“Yep, that’s exactly what it is. You’re going to have to meet the folks. It doesn’t mean we’re getting married. I just wanted you to have a place to go for Christmas. It’s not a time for being alone.”
“I’m used to it by now. I’m sure your family doesn’t want an intruder.”
“Don’t you know I wouldn’t enjoy Christmas knowing you were alone? Mom and Dad don’t mind. Since Christmas is on Friday we can be back by Monday and be ready for work on Tuesday. Besides, it’s not like we’ll be sharing a room or anything. Okay? I’m glad that‘s settled.”
“Jazz, I haven’t said yes, yet.”
“Oh good grief. Mom and Dad would feel better if I wasn’t driving alone. We’ll drive home and stay the weekend with them. You’re coming. I’ll just let them know.”
Victor shook his head, allowing himself to give in. He took a bite of dinner, “This is delicious. I could get used to this.”
“Thanks Victor, I’m glad you like it. You’ll have to come over more often.”
“So, is that an invitation to come over after work tomorrow?”
“Only if you want it to be.”
Not knowing what to say to that, Victor took another bite of roast. On the counter, Jazz’s camera bag sat, waiting for her to dash out with it.
“How did you get started in photography?”
Jazz laughed, “It was really by accident. I picked up a small digital point and shoot, and soon found it to be a passion. After that, my dad gave me a digital SLR.”
“You’ve got a good eye. Do I hear Owie?”
“Yeah... oh, the cat...” Jazz got up and opened the door. The cat complained as she walked in, jumped on the couch and curled up, clearly annoyed at being forgotten.
Victor chuckled softly. Yes, he could get used to a regular life. “It seems Owie doesn’t forgive easily.”
“I spoil her. She’s great company. Hey, what did you think of Pastor Jim’s sermon?”
Victor stopped eating a moment, “Why do you ask?”
“No reason in particular. Dad and Mom always have that discussion after church and it seemed a natural thing to ask.”
“I see. Well, I had some questions.”
“Yeah, well ever since Friday night you’ve been asking questions. I’m not surprised about that.”
“Your preacher said that God loves everyone, no matter what they’ve done. I can’t see how that’s fair.”
“From what I understand, it isn’t fair.”
“What do you mean?”
“Victor, I don’t read my Bible very much, but I have heard about this all my life. God loves us even though we don’t deserve it. That’s why Jesus came in the first place.”
“But he said even murderers and rapists? I don’t understand.”
“You haven’t raped anyone; have you?” Jazz teased.
“No,” Victor said truthfully, but seriously. Jazz instantly realized she’d been too flippant.
“Victor, you need to talk to Pastor Jim sometime. He could give you the answers you’re looking for. I wish I was more prepared to.”
“I heard him say that God’s love wasn’t based on what we’ve done. I guess that’s plain enough. It’s what he’d tell me if I talked to him.”
“That’s true, but I still think you need to visit with him.”
“Maybe sometime.” Victor felt a little frustrated. Why couldn’t she tell him the things he wanted to know? He didn’t want to talk to her pastor, he was asking her.
Jazz felt somewhat awkward. “Want dessert?” she finally asked.
“Dessert too? Jazz, I’m going to have to watch myself around you. I could gain weight.”
Jazz laughed, “It’s nothing spectacular, just an angel food cake with strawberries and whipped topping.”
“You’re the angel. I’m the bad man.”
Jazz handed him a plate of cake and strawberries laughing.
Finished with their dinner, Victor helped Jazz clear the table and clean up. While Jazz washed the last of the dishes, he walked over to his jacket, still on the couch. Suddenly he stiffened as he glanced out the window. The familiar red sports car slowly drove by the front of the apartment. Absently he called to Jazz, “Do you have any movies?”
“What do you want to watch?”
“It doesn’t matter.” He responded, sitting on the couch. The cat jumped into his lap.
“She’s awfully particular about who she purrs for,” Jazz said, laughing when she came in. She scratched the cat’s head playfully. Owie just blinked at her with quivering blue eyes.
“She’s not a very good judge of character,” Victor replied scratching underneath the cat’s chin. She lifted her head for Victor to continue, bringing a cat’s smile to her feline face.
Jazz rubbed her hand on Victor’s shoulder. “You may not think much of your character, but I do. Here are my movies; what do you want to watch first?”
“I’ve never seen most of these movies, you pick one.”
“You’ve never seen ‘It’s a Wonderful Life’ or ‘White Christmas’?”
“No, should I have?”
“Well, they’re old stand bys, at least my family watches them every year. We’ll just have to watch all of them.”
“Today?”
“No, of course not. We’ll watch one at a time.” She picked up Charles Dickens Christmas Carol. “I love the way George C. Scott plays Scrooge. We’ll watch this. I’ll pour some coffee.”
Jazz poured a cup for them both. The aroma of the coffee helped Victor forget his worry. He closed his eyes, listening to Jazz making noise in the kitchen. He could almost imagine what it would be like to be listening to her as his wife. He smiled.
“What are you smiling at?” Jazz laughed, catching him in the moment.
“Just appreciating the atmosphere.”
She blushed and popped the movie into the player then sat down next to Victor as he took the coffee she offered.
The movie opened to a busy foggy street scene, the walks and roads covered in snow and ice. A bell mournfully tolled out the hour as if to announce doom and death, the wind howled icily with the haunting eerie sound of distant wailing voices.
The narrator began his opening lines, but soon Victor was lost in thought, easily distracted from the storyline. All that would register in his mind was that Jazz sat next to him enjoying the movie.
He reached over the couch, put his arm on the back and let it slip down to rest on her shoulders. It was an obvious pass and he hoped she’d allow it. She looked up at him and smiled. She didn’t move his arm and seemed to snuggle closer. Victor was grateful. At that moment, feeling genuine comfort from someone meant more to him than that smile she gave him each time she saw him.
His mind thought about nothing in particular, except that Jazz was close beside him. He let nothing else steal peace from him, not the car outside, not his own unhappiness, not his life. It would have been easy to doze off, but he wanted to savor the moment with this beautiful young woman. His arm brought her a little closer, she put her hand on his chest. He kissed her hair. Time went by too quickly and soon the ending credits played. It was dark outside.
“I love that movie. It’s funny, though. Every time I watch it, it always ends the same.”
Victor looked at her wondering what she meant, but then caught that familiar glimmer in her eyes.
“Yep,” he responded, “It’s amazing how that works.”
Jazz laughed, glad he understood the joke, “Not many people get that the first time,” she smiled broadly, “I’m proud of you.”
“Thanks,” he chuckled, “It’s getting a late. I think I’d better go.” He and Jazz both got up from the couch. Being closer to his jacket, Jazz made a step to retrieve it, but he reached for her and pulled her into his arms, moving her away from his coat. She didn’t resist, but didn’t allow the embrace to last too long.
“Thanks Victor,”
“No, thank you. I don’t think I can remember a better Sunday.”
“Even going to church?”
“It wasn’t as bad as I thought, especially because I was with you.”
“I enjoy your company.”
“I’ll see you in the morning,” he said as he opened the door, “It’s too cold outside, don’t come out.”
“Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Victor waved, she shut the door. The night seemed colder and more menacing than ever. Going to his car he felt hot in spite of the icy air blowing his face. If she’d picked up his coat she would have felt or dropped the gun. He didn’t know what he would have said.
Not seeing any sign of the threat, he made his way back to his car and home again, being sure not to allow anyone to follow him.
Victor did not see the stalker again and by the time the week of Christmas arrived, the incident seemed less important.
On the evening of their departure, Victor walked Jazz to her car. “Are you packed and ready to go?”
On the evening of their departure, Victor walked Jazz to her car. “Are you packed and ready to go?”
“Yeah, I just have to put my stuff in your car. I’ve been really looking forward to this. I’m glad you’re coming.”
“I’ll come by to pick you up in an hour. There’s a few things I need to do first, one of which is take a shower.”
“I was thinking of a shower myself.”
“I’ll see you in an hour.”
“Okay.” Jazz got in her car and drove home. He watched her a few minutes.
It was six when they left her apartment. They picked up a quick burger on the way out of town and were soon passing over the highway. It was a long, uneventful trip, but Victor’s little car and their companionship made the trip enjoyable. They reached her parents two story Tudor house by mid afternoon on Christmas Eve.
They got out of the car, and Jazz ran into the house adorned with homey Christmas decorations, pulling Victor along with her. She called her parents who came out of a side room. Mike, a well built man with receding dark hairline, and Jillian, a small woman with red hair came hugging their daughter as soon as they saw her.
“Jazz, you’re as beautiful as always,” her mother said giving her daughter another hug.
“How’s my baby girl?” her dad asked.
Jazz pulled Victor next to her, “I’ve missed you both so much! Mom, Dad, this is Victor. Victor, this is my mom and dad, Jillian and Mike.” Jillian gave Victor an unexpected hug, while Mike gave him a firm handshake.
“We’re both so glad you came to spend Christmas with us. No one should spend the holidays alone.” Jillian said with a warm smile.
“And we’re grateful that you came with Jazz. She shouldn’t be driving all this way by herself.” her dad added.
Jazz laughed, “Didn’t I tell you? Mom and Dad don’t like it when I drive by myself.”
Mike shook his head at his daughter and laughed, “You’ve always had your own mind about things, Jazzy. Come on Victor. I’ll help you unload the car.” Mike led Victor away. Jazz went with her mother.
“So how was the trip?” Jillian asked her daughter as they walked into the kitchen. Jazz immediately sat down and started cutting apples on the small table in the middle of the kitchen, as decorated for the holidays as the rest of the house.
“It was fine. I slept a lot of the way.” Jazz replied, catching her Mother’s eyebrows raise, a sure sign of worry, “I wasn’t afraid he’d do anything. We’ve been seeing each other as friends since before Thanksgiving. He did try to kiss me on our first date, but I wouldn’t let him. He hasn’t tried since.”
“I’ll bet not. I’m surprised he didn’t stop asking you out after that. What happened?”
Jazz smiled, “He felt really bad, but he asked me to spend the next day with him at a holiday festival in the park. I guess he probably wouldn’t have asked me out again if I’d have said no. We had a nice time and went to church together that Sunday.”
“So you guys have been going out a lot?”
“Just about every evening and most weekends. I really do like him.”
‘That’s nice,” Jillian smiled at her daughter, “but be careful. It’s the chivalrous ones you have to watch out for. What’s his relationship with God like?”
“He has a lot of questions,” Jazz replied carefully. She could feel her face turn red, and hoped her mother wouldn’t notice or ask any more questions.
“Does that mean he isn’t a Christian?”
Jazz avoided her mom’s eyes. She should have known her mother would ask. “He’s interested.”
Jillian placed her hand on her daughter’s shoulder, “Interested in you or Christianity? Jazz, all your life we’ve stressed to you the importance of loving and marrying a person who believes the way you do. I can’t choose your spouse for you. I just want you to be aware of the difficulties you might face married to someone who doesn’t have the same faith, or someone who doesn’t have faith.”
“Thanks Mom. I’ll be careful, but we’re not talking marriage or anything like that.”
“You guys might not be thinking of marriage, but dating is the precursor, whether it’s Victor or anyone else.”
“I know Mom, but don’t worry. You’ve raised me well.”
Jillian smiled and kissed her daughter. Dinner was almost ready. They called Mike and Victor to the table, and enjoyed a nice family meal together. Victor was surprised at the family traditions they kept, and realized how much he’d missed growing up.
After dinner, Jazz took him to the room he’d be staying in. “So, through there is the bathroom. There should be towels in the cabinet, but if you need anything, don’t be shy.”
“Thanks.” he looked around. A sudden realization came over him, “Hey, this is your bedroom?”
“It was. Sorry it’s so girly.”
“Where are you going to sleep?”
“We have a futon downstairs in the office.”
“What? No! Jazz you should let me sleep there.”
“Don’t be silly. You’re our guest.”
“Jazz...”
“No, don’t argue with me. Please, do this, for me.”
She smiled and wrapped her arms around his waist. “I know all this was a bit overwhelming. You handled it great.”
“Was I that obvious?”
“A little,”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. Well, I’m going back down. Do you need anything before I go?”
“Yes, but you won’t give it to me.”
“You are persistent. I’ll give you that.”
She held him closer, “You’ll get your kiss, just not tonight.”
“Then I guess I can wait.” He responded, kissing her on the forehead, “I’m certain it will be worth it.”
She left him and went to the kitchen where she found her mother cleaning up after dinner. Piano music could be heard softly playing in the living room.
“Here, Mom. Let me help.” Jazz said as she walked into the kitchen.
“Don’t worry about it sweetie. I’m almost finished. Besides, it’s been a long day for you, too. Why don’t you go ahead and go to bed.”
“I am kind of tired. Maybe I should. I think I’ll say goodnight to Dad first. Night Mom.”
“Night.”
She wandered to the living room, stopping a moment as she watched her dad play the piano softly, unaware that she was there. The music brought back the joy of her childhood that always stole over her when she heard him play. She walked to the piano and leaned on it, listening.
Finally she spoke, “Hi daddy.”
“Hi there.”
“Dinner was good; wasn’t it?”
“Mmhmm.” He replied absently.
“So, what do you think of Victor?”
“I’m glad you asked. I’ve been wanting to talk to you.” He invited her to sit beside him on the piano stool. She gladly accepted. How many times had they sat together there? She wondered to herself.
“Do you love him Jazzy-Rose?”
“I think so, Dad.”
“How well do you know him?”
“We’ve worked together about a year. He’s real quiet, but I think I know him pretty well.”
“Yes, but how well is pretty well? Do you know his past?”
“No, not really Dad. He said he used to be the head exterminator for a big company. He specialized in rats. Why do you ask? Don’t you like him?”
“I think I do. I think I’d like him much more if he wasn’t dating you, girl”
“It’s because I’m your daughter.” Jazz grinned at her dad. He laughed.
“Maybe so. Does he love the Lord Jazzy?”
“Mom asked me that too. He’s interested Dad.”
“It’s important to have a relationship with a man who is strong in the Lord. It’s hard on both of you if you aren’t in the same camp.”
“I know Dad, don’t worry. He’s been going to church with me.”
“Okay, Jazz, but there’s something about him that’s not quite right. He’s a wary man. Wary men often have reason to be wary.”
“How well did Mom know you before you started dating?”
“Not well,” Mr. Phelps smiled, “good point as usual Jazzy. But be careful. I want you to be just as wary as he is.”
“I will, I promise.”
“Okay, I trust you girl. Why don’t you go and get some rest. You look wiped.”
“Okay. I feel wiped.”
Jazz hugged and kissed her dad, “Thanks,” she said.
Late at night Victor tossed in the bed that had been Jazz’s. After sleeping for awhile, a gnawing worry came over him, awakening him. By the lack of noises downstairs, Victor could tell everyone was asleep. He glanced at the clock; it read 2 a.m. He laid on his back awhile, staring at the ceiling. Nothing could ease his troubled, tortured soul. Finally he arose, flicked on the light and looked around the room.
At the foot of the bed, a chest on which several old cookie tins, hatboxes and stuffed animals sat. Curiosity pulled him to open the drawers and look inside. Methodically he glanced at several items, until he came across a green ring box. He opened it. Inside was an unadorned silver ring with the simple inscription, “Fear Not” etched inside. After a moment’s examination, he buried the ring in his suitcase. Something about the inscription spoke to him, calming him. He went back to bed and fell asleep until Jazz tapped on the door to call him for breakfast and to get ready for church.
At the Phelps’ church, Victor felt as anxious and uneasy as he’d expected to feel at Jazz’s church that first Sunday. His discomfort must have been apparent, because Jazz, always ready to calm him, reached over to squeeze his hand. Noticing several men with their arms around their wives shoulders’, he felt comfortable putting his arm on Jazz’s. She patted his knee, then whispered, It’s okay. I’m uncomfortable here, too.”
“Really?” he whispered back.
“Really,” she smiled.
After church, they returned to her parents’ home, and exchanged gifts. Afterwards they had their Christmas dinner. Victor was amazed at the variety of food with a golden turkey, pumpkin pie, pecan pie, yams, and stuffing, all blending together in a cacophony of aromas.
They joined hands and bowed their heads, Mr. Phelps prayed, “Father, today we thank you for the special meaning of Christmas, Jesus birth, so that ultimately he could become the Savior of us all. Thank you for this dinner and bless each person here. In Jesus Name, Amen.”
Hot and heavy food dishes began to be passed. Victor could almost forget who he really was in the general merriment of the family gathering. Mike and Jillian discussed the sermon. Jazz and her parents warmed Victor with their acceptance.
After dinner and clean up, he and Jazz took a walk along a path through the cypress trees smelling of Christmas in the humid December air. After walking for a few minutes Jazz stopped Victor and handed him a small package. “I have something for you.”
He opened the box slowly. Looking inside he found a glass peacock roosting in a glass tree planted on a polished cherry wood base. “You gave me the bird,” she whispered, “so I thought I’d give you the bird too.” Victor shook his head at her, giving her the satisfaction of a rare laugh.
“It’s always good to hear you laugh like that. I think I’m a good influence on you.”
“What is it you see in me Jazz?”
“That’s difficult to say. You’re a complex man. I think what first got my attention was your attention to me. You’ve always been nice. I did get impatient with you though. I was beginning to think you’d never ask me out.” Jazz grabbed Victor’s hand, “I’m glad we’re friends.”
“I’d like to be more than friends.”
“I’d like that too.” Jazz whispered inviting him to kiss her. He took her in his arms with fierce passion. He was like a man who’d not seen his wife in months. At that moment, as far as he was concerned, she was his wife. His kiss claimed her as his own and she gave back to him all he desired in her kiss. Here was one who loved him for who he was. Who he was however, frightened him. It was at that moment of embrace and first kiss that he more perfectly realized he wanted to leave his old life completely never to engage in it again. Although his whole being was absorbed in the enjoyment of Jazz’s kiss, he knew he’d never be the same. Surely it would not be hard to live a normal life with her in his arms each night and by his side each day. But he didn’t want to ask her now. He wanted to give her a ring and ask her in a special place.
“I’m glad you made me wait.” He said with her still held tightly to himself.
“I haven’t known how to tell you that I’ve wanted you to kiss me for awhile now. Thanks for waiting for me to be ready. I hope it hasn’t been too hard on you.”
“No, not really. That first night we went out, I wasn’t sure what you expected. Most of the women I’m used to dating were ready to jump in the sack with me on the first date.”
Jazz smiled at him. Maybe her dad was wrong about his wariness. He kissed her again, allowing himself to take his time and savor the beauty of their embrace. It was a kiss that made her heart melt for him. Before she only guessed she loved him, now she knew it.
The next day, Mike, Jillian, Jazz and Victor were assembled in front of Victor’s car for their farewells. “Take care of our baby girl, or I’ll come looking for you,” Mike teased while shaking Victor’s hand.
Victor’s eyes gave Mike a cold stare that sent chills down the older man’s spine. Was he so sure he liked this guy dating his daughter? The look quickly passed to a warmer look, “Thanks for including me,” Victor said. Mike smiled, but that sense of disquiet stayed with him as he watched his daughter get into Victor’s car and drive away. He decided it would be better not to say anything to his wife about the incident. There was no point in alarming her unnecessarily.
“Sweetheart,” he did say to her, “we need to pray for Victor and our baby girl. They have some things to work out.”
“Yeah, I know.”
Mike held his wife’s hand and together they bowed their heads, “Lord,” Mike prayed, “please protect Victor and Jazz as they drive home, and help them seek your will in their lives.”
It was close to two on Sunday when Victor and Jazz made their way out of Houston toward Prairie Oak. “I hope to be back by ten tonight, but the road is liable to be very busy with everyone else trying to get back home. Then there’s that construction near the border.”
“Is there an alternate route?”
“Yeah but it takes us a longer way around.”
“Are you in a hurry to get back to town?”
“No ma’am, but I thought you might be.”
“Not me.”
“Then we’ll take our chances with the construction. We may not be in a hurry to get back, but I’m sure you don’t want to spend most of Monday on the road.”
As Victor had predicted, there was a lot of traffic on the road, even on Sunday. It seemed everyone had the same idea to go home before the rest of the world rushed back. As they traveled down the crowded highway they talked until a car swerved in front of Victor. Deftly he maneuvered through the traffic to avoid the dangerous driver. He stopped talking to concentrate, occasionally asking Jazz to help him navigate through the spaghetti bowl confusion of roads.
Around six Victor pulled off the highway in Oklahoma.
“What’s the matter?” Jazz asked.
“Nothing, I’m getting hungry and I need some coffee. The traffic has been terrible. We’re about an hour behind my estimation.”
Jazz smiled, leaned over and kissed his cheek. Victor returned her smile.
The restaurant Victor pulled into was the typical family chain that served breakfast all day and all night, not really the type of place Victor wanted to take Jazz to, but it served its purpose.
“Is this okay?” he asked as they waited to be seated.
“Yeah, this is great.”
For the millionth time he shook his head.
“What?” she laughed.
“Sometimes I can’t figure you out.”
“What’s to figure?”
“You’re just so easy to please. It’s almost scary.”
She laughed again and held his hand. The waitress came, set them in a booth and took a coffee order.
“I’m afraid I haven’t been much good in helping you drive on this trip. I didn’t intend for you to drive there and back the whole way.” Jazz said after her first sip of coffee.
“That’s okay. I don’t mind the drive. The construction isn’t as bad as I thought it would be, probably because we’re traveling on a Sunday after the holiday. The traffic’s been murder though.”
“So I’ve noticed. I’m really glad you came with me. It’s a long drive alone. Are you okay?”
“Don’t worry about me. The traffic seems to have died down now, and I still expect to be home around eleven tonight.”
After their meal, they went back to the car. Jazz looked up. The sun was magnificent as it peeked through a rend in the clouds while setting. A layer of high, thin clouds overcast the sky while big clusters of steel blue-gray cumulus clouds tinged with the orange hue of the sun zipped by, looking heavy with rain. Jazz paused a moment appreciating the beauty. Her attention always seemed to be drawn upwards.
Victor took her in his arms, and buried his face in her hair. She let him hold her as long as he wanted. When he was ready to go, he opened the door for her, got in and they drove on.
Night fell. Ten o’clock came and went with at least three more hours ahead of them. Both were getting anxious to be home. After awhile the drizzling rain that had been falling off and on stopped, and the sky cleared, revealing bright stars against a black velvet background.
Although Jazz tried to help Victor stay awake, it was difficult for her to keep from dozing. Finally he said, “Put the seat back and rest. There’s no point in hurting your neck. I’ll be alright.”
After a little protest, Jazz did as he suggested and fell promptly asleep. Victor turned the radio on to help him stay awake. A dark voice sang a seductive song; the music seemed to call to the darker side of his soul. Almost involuntarily, he reached out, gently touching her arm. Burning lust cut into his mind. He opened the window to chill his hunger, but it increased. He noticed Jazz shiver and rolled the window back up.
The yellow and white dividing lines and glowing reflectors flashed by in the car’s illumination, having a hypnotic effect as they passed Victor in mesmerizing patterns. His eyes began to tire. Painfully he tried to keep them open, rubbing them frequently. Suddenly he felt the car swerve; quickly he regained control and realized he’d dozed. “I’ve got to find a place to sleep, even if it’s just pulling off the side of the road.” He glanced at Jazz again, rationalizing to himself, “We could find a motel. There are plenty. It would make sense since we don’t have to be back until Tuesday, then we could finish the drive tomorrow and still have a full night’s sleep tomorrow night. She did tell me she loves me. “
Just entering a small town, he saw a motel ahead. Victor made his decision and pulled into a place in the parking lot. It wasn’t going to be hard to get the room and help her into bed. He could crawl in next to her and before she could stop him, he’d have her.
He closed his eyes in anticipation. It would be good. He put his hand on her leg and carefully moved it up. Her jean covered thigh felt nice under his hand. She shifted, but did not awaken. Leaving the motor running, he quietly opened his car door, eased out of the car and softly shut the door again.
He shivered the short distance to the motel manager’s office. As soon as he walked into the office, he forgot the cold, finding himself alone at the reception desk. On the other side of the desk a short woman with reddish hair greeted him.
“Hello, can I help you?”
“I want a room, no smoking, king size bed.”
“Your name?”
“Michael Clark,”
“You by yourself?”
“Yeah,”
“How long are you going to stay?”
“Just overnight.”
“I need a credit card.”
“Do you take Visa?”
“Yes,”
Victor thumbed through his wallet until he found the right card with the right driver’s license.
“Thank you Mr. Clark, you’ll be in room 129. It’s over on the right.”
Victor left, and got back in the car where Jazz was still sleeping. Anticipation made his head pound. He found the room easily enough and was glad to find it was in the back of the motel.
He pulled into the parking place, and opened his car door. A cold slap of wind hit him full in the face. Something wasn’t right. He looked in at the young woman in the seat. She trusted him. She wasn’t going to want this. It took her this much time to let him kiss her. She surely would put up a fight, and he’d have to try to talk her into it. He was too tired to talk her into it, and didn’t want the attention any other method would bring. He didn’t need that kind of attention.
He got back in the car, pulled out of the parking place and drove back out on the road. He didn’t care about the money he’d just spent on the motel room. It would be better to leave it. He stopped at a convenient store and bought a cup of coffee. Taking a cautious sip he was shocked at the bitter almost creosote flavor. He threw it out. Back in the car, Jazz stirred and sat up sleepily.
“Have we been stopped long?” She asked, rubbing her eyes.
“Not long. I needed coffee, but it was really bad. Want me to get you something?”
Jazz yawned. “No, I don’t want anything, but do you want me to drive?”
“No, I need to keep my hands on the wheel.”
“I think that’s a good idea Mr. Young.” She smiled at him mischievously.
Staring straight ahead, he was glad he decided against the motel room.
The next two hours were not as difficult for Victor now that Jazz was able to stay awake. They had small but intimate conversation, often followed by moments of silence in which both were awake, but thinking about the other.
At the end of the journey, Victor crested the top of a small hill overlooking Prairie Oak. Jazz sighed wearily,
“What a long trip. It’s good to go away; it’s good to come home.” They drove through the quiet streets, and passed dark houses. Victor pulled to a stop outside Jazz’s apartment. Suddenly with a force that was almost painful, the thought of the stalker reentered his mind. He’d not thought of the man for a long time before they left for Jazz’s parents’ house. He wondered why he thought about the man now.
Popping the trunk without a word, he got out of the car, and lifted Jazz’s luggage out. She didn’t wait for Victor to open her door, but took one of her bags from him and went to her apartment. They walked in together as she flipped the lights on. “Home,” she sighed appreciatively. Owie greeted Jazz and Victor, rubbing herself through both their legs. Ignoring the cat, Victor took Jazz in his arms. “It would be nice to stay,” he suggested.
“Don’t you think you’d be more comfortable at your own place? After all, being with a bunch of people can be wearying. “
“You’re right, but you aren’t a bunch of people, and I enjoyed your family. I’ll go home, I’m tired too.”
“Thanks.”
He kissed her, “See you tomorrow.”
“Get some rest and come over when you want tomorrow... later.”
Victor bent toward her and kissed her again. She returned his kiss, full and wanting. Too soon she broke from him, “Goodnight.”
“Jazz...”
“We’ll talk tomorrow.”
“Okay, I’ll be by early.”
“Not too early.”
“You won’t be able to get rid of me now.”
“Yeah, I know. But who said I wanted to get rid of you?”
He walked out the door, thinking about the motel. No, it was definitely better this way.
This New Year’s celebration, Victor had something special in mind for Jazz. Instead of the company party, he took her to a quiet, but elegant Italian restaurant. In a solitary little booth with a window overlooking a river bathed in cold moonlight, he held her hand as they waited for their meal. “I’m glad we decided to spend New Year’s together, just the two of us.”
“Me too....”
Jazz’s phone beeped a text message, interrupting the conversation, “911-Jazz, call me! Keri”
“I’m sorry Victor. This won’t take long.”
“It’s fine, we have all night."
Jazz dialed Keri’s number. “How’s the party?”
“It’s pretty lame. Hey, are you with Victor?”
“Yeah, why?”
“Look, I know we’ve worked with him for a long time, but no one seems to know much about his past. It’s really cloudy.”
“How would you know that?”
“I’ve looked in his personnel files.” Keri replied, guilt apparent in her voice.
“Keri!”
“I can’t help it Jazz. I’m a reporter, it’s what I do.”
“You’re paranoid and way out of line, Keri.” Frustrated, Jazz hung up on her.
“Is everything okay?” Victor asked.
“You know Keri, always drama. It’s nothing important.”
“Well, I’m glad it’s nothing serious. Jazz, there’s something I’ve wanted to talk to you about.”
“You seem worried. Are you okay?”
He picked up Jazz’s hand, “Jazz, I have something to tell you,”
“Okay,”
The waitress came by with their meal. Victor waited until she left.
“Actually it’s more of an admission. Do you remember that first night I asked you out, the first time I tried to kiss you?”
“Yeah, how could I forget?”
“What I didn’t tell you was that I’ve been watching you for a long time. Even before we started dating.”
“What do you mean?”
“I was in Houston last year on a job. I stopped at your old bank to deposit my earnings, actually you’re the one who helped me, but I’m sure you don’t remember me. There were a lot of people that day.
“Even then something about you struck me as unusual. It was something in your eyes that drew me to you, and I watched you. In fact I watched you the rest of the day. You never knew. I was so amazed at how you treated everyone the same way that you treated me, and some of those people were very rude. You smiled and made everyone feel like you cared. I haven’t seen very much of that.” Victor looked down at the table, “I hate to admit it, but I started watching you every day. My business was finished in Houston, but my life had become so dull and depressing. You were the only bright spot in it. I’d been feeling the need for change, and I was beginning to see that I wanted you to be part of that change. After about a month, I followed you home.”
“You followed me?” Shocked, Jazz removed her hand. Her eyes got big. What kind of man was this?
“Yes, I followed you. I really intended to ask you out then, but I just couldn’t get up the nerve.
“When you left the bank in Houston, I was frantic to find you. I found out you were here and came here myself. I got a job with the magazine so I could continue to be near you.”
“You’ve been stalking me?”
“No, no. It’s not that at all.”
“Well, I’d like to know what else you’d call it. Victor, I thought I really liked you, but I don’t know what to think now.”
“But I wanted to ask you to marry me…”
Surprise splashed across Jazz’s face. In one breath he was telling her he stalked her, in the next he asked her to marry him? She got up from the table and started walking out, intending to get away from him as quickly as possible. Now she was scared.
“Jazz wait, please,” he called while plunking money down on the table. Victor rushed out the door and stopped as he saw that Jazz was trying to wrench free from the grasp of a man with dark hair and wearing an overcoat as well as a man with tattoo sleeves on both arms. A third man with a shaved head sat in the front passenger seat of a suspended Suburban. He stared darkly at Victor. Cold fear sent ice through his veins.
“You and your girlfriend need to come with us. Mr. Johnson wants to see you.” The man in the overcoat told Victor.
“Victor is going to take me home first, and I’m not his girlfriend!”
“Jazz, just do as he says,” Victor urged as they were forced into the car. He felt like she’d just stabbed him.
“I don’t know why I should. In fact, I know I don’t want to,”
“You don’t have a choice.” the bald escort replied coldly.
“Of course I have a choice, I don’t want to go. You seem to know these guys, Victor, tell them to let me go.”
“Jazz, we’ll talk about this later. Right now you have to trust me. Okay?” Jazz could see fear for her in his eyes. Not knowing what else to say she stopped talking altogether. More afraid of her chauffeurs than of Victor she huddled closer to him, her only protection.
The driver took them on a long winding drive out of Prairie Oak, and into the surrounding hills. After twenty minutes, the driver stopped in the driveway of a huge sprawling house she’d never seen before. They were hustled out of the car and through a door which led to an office. Victor kept his arm firmly around Jazz’s shoulders, wondering what she was thinking of him. Certainly fear of their situation kept her close to him, but now she feared him too.
He felt her press herself against him more, and wished he knew if she truly trusted him now, or was just afraid. Whatever Johnson wanted, Victor was certain he would use Jazz as leverage against him. He’d seen Johnson work before.
As they walked in, Jazz saw a man with light brown hair, graying at the temples, in his late forties wearing a black shirt and charcoal pants. He was leaning against his desk with his back to the door they’d just entered. Jazz’s immediately saw he was holding a glass filled with a venomous green beverage. He took a sip.
“Hemingway, Van Gogh, Oscar Wilde and Poe all drank from thy cup, oh beautiful Green Fairy. Absinthe, absinthe, what colorful dreams in my mind you haunt." The man quoted in a deep Machiavellian voice. He turned and walked toward Victor and Jazz swirling his drink with his little finger, “I’m sure you're a good Christian girl. You've probably heard of wormwood. That's what it’s made of. You might like it, it's an aphrodisiac.” Johnson slightly tilted his head and one of his men behind her suddenly grabbed Jazz’s shoulders while Johnson painted her lips with the beverage still dripping from his finger. With a blast of anise and other strange herbs in her face, he laughed at Jazz’s repulsion, and she knew what the mouse facing the snake feels like.
He turned again, silently drinking. Afraid and disgusted to the point of nausea, Jazz waited tremblingly close to Victor, not sure what to expect next. Who was this odious man? She scanned the richly furnished room. Several ponderous bookshelves filled with leather bound books and a few mementos stood opposite a brown leather couch and matching chairs. Several paintings hung on the walls. Finally her eyes rested on a painting sitting on a pedestal beside a bookshelf. It was a framed surreal painting of a small town beside the sea embroiled in storm. Jazz couldn't help staring at the bleak story it seemed to tell. Lightening illuminated the texture of the angry clouds; rain beat oppressively against the small buildings. No lights shone in the windows. The village was as oppressive as the room that dripped with luxury, elegance and evil.
Johnson finally spoke again, "Do you like the painting? I painted it while drinking absinthe. It's my best." Only half of his drink was left in the glass. He turned toward them slightly. "It's good to see you again... uh, Victor. Isn't that the name you're using now? We've had a hard time finding you. Why did you want to hide from your old friends? Yes, it took us a very long time to find you. And here you were all the time, right in my own back yard. It’s quite funny.
“I have a little job I’d like you to do for me.”
Johnson turned his smile on Jazz, “You don’t mind listening while we talk business, do you my dear?” the ice in his voice sent a chill through Jazz’s soul. She wasn’t sure how to respond, so she said nothing. Apparently, that was just the answer Johnson was looking for, “Good,” he said, “Victor and I go a long way back. Did he ever tell you about his old friends?”
“Well, Victor, you know I’ve had a long association with Monroe. Unhappily we’ve come to blows, and I need you to take care of the big problem he’s become.
“Victor, you and I belong to an elite brotherhood. We complete our tasks with meticulous care and finesse. Monroe, on the other hand, is an uncivilized degenerate. I need you to eliminate him for me.”
Looking at Jazz and hoping she knew what he was telling her, Victor replied, “Mr. Johnson, I’m not doing that kind of work anymore.”
“Oh, come now. You can’t mean that. You’re one of the best I know, and right now you’re the most affordable.” Suddenly Johnson’s eyes shifted toward Jazz. “Victor, you used to be more careful. Once I realized you had a… ‘liability’…” he paused long enough for the word to sink in, “I knew it would not be difficult to find you again. So I called off my search and took the risk. I guess the risk paid off.” Johnson smiled.
“I’ll pay you the usual fee and have my men take you back to your car now. Just remember that we’ll be expecting results very soon. Do you understand?”
Victor nodded. Johnson smiled at them, nodded toward his chauffer, and sat down again at his desk. Victor and Jazz were taken back to Victor’s car.
Victor drove Jazz home in awful silence. When they arrived at her apartment, he started to walk a still quiet Jazz to her door. Suddenly the young man with the Mohawk appeared around the building with another man who was bald, both carrying guns. Immediately Victor pulled his pistol out, but the men pointed their pistols at Jazz, and the Mohawk ordered him to drop it. A moment of frightening indecision hung in the air as Victor considered his next move. He gave up his gun. For the second time that night, Victor and Jazz found themselves invited into a car.
They drove toward the small town of Derrick about thirty miles south of Prairie Oak, and turned down a gravel road. They stopped at a large house with a tall peak that seemed to touch the sharp bright stars. Jazz found it to be oppressive as they were forced out of the car and brought to the door. Victor took a moment to whisper, “Carl Monroe,” in Jazz’s ear. She gave him a quick look, and then averted her eyes. She’d once told him that the eyes were the window to the soul, and now he saw its truth. His heart broke.
Victor and Jazz were taken directly to Monroe’s office. The guards remained in the room with them, their guns hidden in their coats.
As Jazz looked around the room, she was struck with the ludicrous differences between Monroe and Johnson, wondering how they’d ever become partners. Johnson had been scrupulously neat. Monroe, a short stout man with a round face covered with gray stubble, wore a black silk shirt with neon skeletons in top hats dancing around the tails. Baggy pants hung on his body like Spanish moss hangs on a tree and he wore a shoulder holster with a gun. He looked like Jazz’s idea of a Confederate colonel with small eyes.
Blue obnoxious smoke from his odious cigar caused the room to reek. His short, gray hair lay stuck up everywhere on his head, as if he’d gelled it the night before and then went to bed. He leaned back in his chair. On his desk a mini Uzi and its holster lay quietly waiting.
Monroe arose from his desk and walked between Victor and Jazz, who was being held by the bald man. The man with the spiked hair kept watch on Victor. Monroe eyed Jazz a moment and then lovingly picked up a pool cue that had been leaning inconspicuously next to the door. “Ever play, Victor?” he whispered.
“No,” Victor said simply.
Without warning, the sharp electric sound of a taser ripped through the room; painfully Victor fell to his knees. Before he realized what was happening, an unfamiliar whooshing noise whizzed in his ear followed by an excruciating whack on his shoulder and neck.
Gasping, he looked up at Monroe as the man handed the broken pool cue to the young bald man.
“I don’t play either, but I’ve recently found these to be very handy. This one’s lasted for quite awhile. I guess I’ll have to remember the brand and get another just like it.”
Jazz, horrified at the abuse, struggled to free herself from the vice grip of her captor but was unsuccessful. Monroe nodded and the man released her. She helped Victor to his feet. He looked in her eyes, and again saw her feelings for him as clearly as the anger he’d seen earlier. In spite of the pain in his back and his inability to catch his breath again, a seed of hope was planted in his heart, but at this moment he had other matters that needed his absolute attention. The man who’d been holding Jazz grabbed her again, pulling her away from him.
“It’s been a long time since we’ve seen you.” Monroe continued, “Your taste in women has improved a great deal. Good for you. Have you had any luck yet? No? Oh well, with time you always get the women.” Monroe got close, Jazz fought the nausea that threatened to overwhelm her from his whiskey-cigar breath. Victor made a lunge toward Monroe, but the man put his hand on his holster and shook his head laughing. “Now that I have your interest, Victor, I want to get down to business. We’ve had a tough time finding you, but once we did, you were a lot easier to shadow than I thought possible. I guess it’s always that way. We men are so distracted by the softer sex.” Monroe smirked a cruel smile, stroked Jazz’s arm and sat back down behind his desk.
“By the way,” he continued, “when did you decide you needed church? I was really surprised when Buck told me you were there. I’ll have to have you take care of that preacher-man next. He almost had Buck believing him, but he’s okay now. I told him it’s nothing but a myth. If it was the truth these Christians would be living the life they preach. Not so most of the time; is it.
“Victor, you know as well as I do that Christians are just as cutthroat as the rest of us. Everyone’s got their angle; we just play the other side of the coin. It’s all extortion.” Monroe had picked up a switchblade and released the knife, fingering the sharp edge thoughtfully. Neither he nor anyone else in the room noticed the split second furrow that flashed across Buck’s heavy brow.
“But back to business. Listen, I’m tired of dealing with Johnson. If he wasn’t in the way I could run this organization much more efficiently. Every time I try to send someone after him, he slips through my fingers, so I decided to find you and get your help in this matter.” Monroe picked up a small rope, thoughtfully winding it around itself.
“Monroe, I don’t do this kind of work anymore. You’re going to have to find someone else.”
“Now Victor, you wouldn’t want anything to happen to that sweet little thing, would you?” his phony smile turned as he examined the noose he’d made, “I hope you understand what I’m saying.”
“Yes, I understand.”
“Good,” Monroe took several hundred dollar bundles from his desk drawer. “You take care of this job for me, and I’ll pay you well. Haven’t I always paid you well? Why would you want to say no to me?” then nodding toward the guards he added, “They’ll take you home now. Oh yes,” he lifted a glass of whiskey, “Happy New Year!” he laughed as they were led out the door.
The trip back to Prairie Oak was as bad as the trip in Johnson’s car had been. Victor felt stiff from his beating and the long ride. It was three in the morning when they were finally released in front of Jazz’s building.
If this wasn’t so serious, Victor would have laughed. The whole thing was crazy. Both Johnson and Monroe wanted the other one out of the way. Both hired him. What made it more bizarre was that he was ready to leave the business altogether. But he knew both men were a very real threat and to make it worse for him, Jazz didn’t trust him anymore. He was already angry with himself for not telling her about himself sooner. How angry was she with him? His thoughts clutched that promise he saw in her eyes while at Monroe’s, but he wasn’t sure what to think. Was she feeling as conflicted as he? Probably.
As soon as she was able, Jazz made a bolt for her door. Victor, not expecting her to run, lunged at her, grabbing her purse, spilling its contents everywhere. His body still ached from the vicious abuse he’d received at Monroe’s but he bent over to help her. She’d still not spoken to him
“We’ve got to talk. Can I please come in?”
“I don’t want to hear it Victor... or whatever your name is.” She pushed at him, and ran for her door, intending to shut Victor out as soon as she was in, but he was in the apartment with her before she could shut the door on him. Frightened, she began to back away. There was no where she could go. He advanced toward her, she bolted toward the door. He caught her, and tried to fold his arms around her, “Jazz, I’m not going to hurt you.”
“Too late,” She swung at him with her right fist, landing a good hard one on his jaw, surprising him enough to cause him to loosen his grip. Again she darted away. He caught her waist, and pivoted so that he could lean her against the door. He secured both her wrists in his one powerful grasp, panting. She struggled, but he was too strong for her. She stopped struggling. “So when were you going to tell me you’re a hit man? Now that I know, are you going to get rid of me, too?”
“Jazz please…”
“My name is Jasmine, thank you.”
“Okay, Jasmine, please, we need to talk. This is very important.”
“Let me go.”
“Can I trust you not to run away?”
“I want you to leave.”
“Let me explain, then if you still want me to leave, I will leave. You’ll never have to see me again.”
Jazz began to struggle again, but she could not get away. Completely exhausted, she finally agreed.
“Let’s sit down here,” he invited, as he carefully eased back on the couch. The scuffle had not helped his shoulder.
Reluctantly, Jazz sat in a chair.
“Not with me?”
“No,”
“How’s your hand?”
“It hurts,”
“So does my jaw,” he rubbed it grinning, hoping to loosen her angry look just a little. A small smile escaped before she was able to capture it and keep it under control. Victor could see she struggled to stay angry. At first he was glad to see it, thinking he’d broken the ice a little, but the angry tirade that came out of her took him by surprise.
“My dad warned me about you, he told me that you were a wary man, and that I should be wary myself, I should have listened to him. Everyone told me that I should be careful about you, but I didn’t see it. You’ve stalked me all this time, pretending to care about me. Are you going to rape me now? I should never have trusted you. I don’t even know your real name. You could be anyone, and here I am alone with a criminal. You told me you exterminated rats and I believed you. You’re a rat yourself. How many innocent men with wives and kids did you kill?”
Jazz stopped a moment.
”Jazz,” Victor tried to take her hand, but she pulled away, “I swear, I wasn’t pretending. Have I ever done anything that would make you think I would hurt you?”
“No, at least I didn’t think so until tonight.”
“I’m sorry everyone told you I’m bad.”
Jazz looked down not wanting him to see the tears start in her eyes. Had she said everyone? That wasn’t exactly the truth. She couldn’t let that go, even as much as she wanted to.
Pausing a moment before she said anything, she attempted to harden her voice, but it trembled, “No, but Dad, Mom and Keri just told me to be careful. They never really said you were bad.”
“I know I’ve done this all wrong. I can understand how you could easily think I was stalking you, but all I wanted was to be close to you. Don’t you see Jazz? When you’re around I see life differently. I see there’s hope, even for me.”
Jazz tried hard not to respond, but he could see her eyes soften. He knew she loved him. He moved to the floor at Jazz’s feet. More desperate than he’d ever been in his life, tears moistened his eyes. “Jazz, I can’t lose you. And I understand that after tonight, when all of this is over, that is a strong possibility. It scares me. It scares me more than anything.”
“Victor...”
“Jazz, I know what I’ve done in my life is wrong. I knew that before I saw you in Houston. I really want to get my life on the right road. I love you, I want to marry you.”
“I don’t know Victor, it’s hard to accept what you are, and now I’m involved in this. I feel like I was lied to. I don’t want to be lied to, and I don’t want a man who is able to lie so easily.”
“It wrenched my guts to lie to you like that, but I didn’t know what else to do. What would you have said if I’d told you?”
Confused, Jazz rose from the couch and stood near the fireplace. She was afraid of what she knew she had to do; she didn’t want to do what she had to do.
“I don’t think I can do this, Victor.” She sobbed.
He rose and came near her lovingly holding her arms. Alarmed, she backed away from him. She knew she wouldn’t be able to be strong with him so close. She wanted to be in his arms, but she didn’t want what he was. She couldn’t live that way, but she wanted him so badly she could almost feel herself giving in. With each step back, he stepped forward until she was against the wall.
“Jazz you can do this. Nothing has changed. I still love you.” he said, looking deep into her eyes.
“Everything has changed Victor. I don’t know who you are. I think you need to leave.”
“No. Jazz, please. You know me. You know me better than anyone. You can’t want this. It’s not too much. I can take care of this, I can take care of you.” How could he make her see how much he loved her? The thought of losing her so soon was too much for him to comprehend.
In desperation he held onto her more tightly. He couldn’t think beyond helping her see his love for her. If she… no, if was too big a word. “I love you Jazz, and I know you love me. You’re my life,” he kissed her cheek, “you’re my breath,” he kissed her lips. She responded with all the love he knew was inside her for him. It gave him hope. He kissed her neck, her lips, her cheek, and back to her neck; she softened in his arms. Suddenly, before he realized it she hardened again and pushed him away. “Jazz…”
“Victor, I do love you, but I can’t be those things for you.”
“Please Jazz.”
But she didn’t respond. He knew he’d lost. Slowly, still hoping she would call him back, he walked to the door. With one last look, he walked out, closing the door behind him. Leaning against it, his heart cried out. Was God really listening? At that point he doubted it. “If there is a God,” he thought to himself, “he’s cruel.”
Slowly he walked to his car. He didn’t know what to do. He’d lost the only thing that made his life meaningful. Sitting in the driver’s seat, he started the engine. There had to be some hope. She loved him, he knew it. He would win her back. How, he didn’t know, but he did know that he’d have to solve the problem Monroe and Johnson had become. As he thought of Johnson, he suddenly stiffened. Pulling away from the curb, Victor found a concealed place to park near her apartment. He knew the man enough to know what to expect.
Just as Victor turned the lights and engine off, he saw the huge Suburban pull to a stop in front of the house. Although not surprised, he frowned. Two of Johnson’s men got out and stood beside their car. Suddenly, startling him, his cell phone rang.
“Hello?”
“Victor?”
“What is it Jazz?’
“Those men are outside my apartment. I didn’t know who else to call.”
“No, you did the right thing. They’ll be watching you from now on.”
“What? What about work? I can’t just stay home.”
“Just keep to your regular routine. It’ll be okay. I’m sorry I’ve gotten you into this.”
“I could call the police. Remember Mr. Ray? He could help us.”
“No, that’s not a good idea. Besides, what would you tell him?”
“Victor, I’m scared.”
“I know. I know.” Victor’s heart broke for her. He wanted her in his arms, he wanted to protect her, but the best way to protect her now, he knew, was to watch her from a distance and try to figure out what to do about their dilemma. Maybe this was the best thing that could happen. Suddenly his heart felt lighter. Yes, he could concentrate on Johnson and Monroe and after they were eliminated, he could win her back. She loved him, she’d told him she loved him. He would use that as his lifeline and they could still have a life together.
She wondered if she should call the police. She picked up the phone book, but could not bring herself to open it. No, Victor was right. What would she tell them?
As she fixed her lonely lunch, she wondered if the watchers were ordered to ignore Victor and concentrate on her. After all, she was the insurance they needed to hold him to his task.
She wondered how a killer prepares himself for a kill. She thought back on all the old suspense movies she’d seen and tried to imagine Victor as the bad guy. That just didn’t seem to fit. The truth about him had come as such a shock.
She didn’t know what she was going to do. She couldn’t hide forever. She had to go to work and wanted to go to church. Something told her that she needed to be around people as much as possible. As long as she was, she’d be reasonably safe.
She thought about going home to visit her mother and dad, but was afraid of letting Monroe and Johnson know where they lived. No, she had to stay in town. She’d have to just pretend they weren’t there.
The best thing to do was what Victor told her, she knew, but thinking about going to church was more than she could bear. If someone said something, she was afraid she’d blurt it out with Friday’s events still raw on her nerves. She’d spend the weekend getting up her courage to go to work Monday.
Saturday and Sunday were the longest days she could remember. She spent much of the day trying to catch up on reading or watching movies, but there was absolutely nothing that could keep her mind occupied. As she’d planned, she stayed home Sunday, but wished she’d taken the chance afterwards and gone. It would have made the day less eternal. She’d not realized how she’d come to love Victor’s company on the weekends.
By Monday she was ready to be among people. Nervously she dressed for work and barely ate breakfast. She stepped out the door, but almost before turning to take her first step toward her car she was shocked by her vulnerability. Fear almost hindered her resolve. If she didn’t show up for work, there would be questions. Too many questions would reveal the truth.
She had to force herself to keep moving toward her car. Each step seemed harder to make than the last. The snowy sidewalk did not help. Not able to go back and too afraid to stop, she continued to the driveway knowing at any moment someone would grab her shoulder. Her spine prickled as if a million tiny needles were sticking in her back. What would she do? Fight? Run? Give in? “NO!” She clinched her teeth. “I will not give in!” but she desperately regretted sending Victor away; and it wasn’t just because of the danger she was in. She felt so empty going to work. What would she say when she saw him?
Suddenly a dog barked and startled her, almost sending her into a blind run. “No, calm down. Walk normally.” She forced her concentration. “Do not run!” The sudden noise of the neighbor’s old car backfiring, a sound she was quite familiar with, almost pushed her to the limit. If the prey ran, the predators would chase her down. She had to keep her composure. “Breathe. Just breathe and walk. Concentrate.” She prayed as she walked, “Father I can’t do this without you. Please help me.”
When she finally reached her car, she was as much out of breath as if she’d run three miles. She leaned her head back on the seat and closed her eyes. Tears threatened her, but she could not allow herself to go to work with a red face and swollen eyes. She held them back grimly. “I will not cry, crying would raise too many questions. I still have to think what to say to everyone if Victor doesn’t show up for work.” Conflicted, she didn’t want to see him, but she wanted him to be there.
Driving the familiar route, the fear began to wear off just a little. In its place a sense of surrealism came over her. At every turn closer to the office, she felt less and less certain of the weekend events.
She pulled into the small parking lot, got out of the car and started across almost feeling safe, but nearing the building, she saw Johnson’s men. With only a fraction of a second’s hesitation, she forced herself to walk to the door. Keri met her there, and the two walked in.
“Hi, Jazz… hey are you okay? You look a little pale.”
“I’m fine, I guess I’ve had a rough weekend.” Jazz’s heart fell further than she thought possible. Victor wasn’t there to let her in.
“Have you seen Victor? I guess he was supposed to come in a little early today, but never showed up.”
“No, I haven’t seen him since New Year’s.”
“Did something happen?”
Jazz hesitated, “Yeah, he asked me to marry him, I said no.”
“Why’d you say no? You guys have been pretty tight since before Christmas.”
“I got to thinking about what you said, and decided we needed to cool it down a little bit. He didn’t like that at all.”
“Did he get violent?”
“No, don’t jump to conclusions. He just got upset and took me home. I thought I’d see him today, but he hasn’t come yet?”
“No he hasn’t. Really I’m glad Jazz. I don’t think he was good for you.”
“Thanks Keri,”
When they came out of the elevator, Jazz went to her desk to begin her day, but she just sat staring at the desktop wallpaper on her computer. It was a photograph of her and Victor with their faces together. It was so strange to be sitting there after everything that happened this weekend. She whispered to the screen, “Everything’s the same here except me.”
Unexpectedly, Jazz jumped at someone’s hand on her back.
“Jazz, hey! I didn’t mean to scare you.” Keri exclaimed, “Tell me the truth, did Victor hurt you? You’ve never been so jumpy before.”
“Oh, sorry, Keri, No I was just deep in thought.”
“Do you want to talk?”
“Not really. I’ll be all right. This is just going to take some time.”
“Why don’t we have lunch together?”
“I was going to eat here. There didn’t seem to be any point in going out today since its so icy and looks like its going to snow again.”
“Sorry, I’m not letting you off that easily. I’ll be by at 11:45.”
Jazz watched Keri walk back to her desk. She didn’t really want to go out at all, not with those goons following her. And she knew Keri would hammer her with questions about Victor. Keri would insist, Jazz would give in, Keri would cause trouble.
On the other hand, maybe going out was a good idea. Her shadows wouldn’t want her to leave work, it would make things a lot easier for them. So, okay, she’d go to lunch with Keri, she’d just make sure she didn’t give
Victor more complications than he had already. She’d be with her friend and they’d be in a public place. If those guys’ job was to watch her, she wasn’t going to make it easy for them. And why should she alienate herself from her friend?
When 11:45 came, Jazz was ready for Keri, who asked where she wanted to go.
“Mexican.”
“Mexican? But the only good Mexican restaurant is across town. I thought you didn’t want to get out in all this snow.”
“Yeah, I know. I’ll drive. I’m really hungry for their tamales and it won’t hurt if we take a few more minutes. It won’t be too bad. Not as many people will be there with the roads like they are.”
“Okay, if you don’t mind driving.”
They made their slippery way on the ice-covered street to the car. She didn’t feel quite as vulnerable as she did when she was alone. She knew it was crazy to feel safer. Together they wouldn’t be any match for the men following them if they decided to attack, and she was putting Keri in danger.
The sky was gray with heavy clouds. Not surprising either of the women, snow began to fall. Jazz laughed.
“What?” Keri asked puzzled, trying to look out the car window to see what was funny.
“Oh nothing, it just feels better to get out than I thought it would. You know I love gray days, that’s all.”
“Oh. Jazz you’re so funny about weather. I still can’t understand you.
“I really expected to have a fight on my hands when I came to pick you up. I was surprised when you suggested Mexican. I know all this has something to do with Victor, so tell me, what happened on New Year’s Eve?”
“Victor took me to a restaurant so we could talk. He told me he’d seen me when I worked at the bank in Houston and wanted to get to know me then. He followed me to Prairie Oak and got a job with the magazine so he could be near me.”
“You mean he was stalking you?”
Jazz nodded her head, “Then he asked me to marry him. That scared me so I told him I needed to think about it and I wanted to go home.”
“I thought you said you told him no and he got upset.”
“He took it as a no,” Jazz recovered quickly, not sure if Keri believed her.
“So what are you going to say to him?”
“I don’t know. I might not see him again now.”
“I think you’d be lucky. He’s scary Jazz. He’s too quiet.”
“Some might say you’re scary too, Keri. Some might think you talk too much. Just because a guy is quiet, doesn’t mean he’s bad.”
“No, but Victor has a kind of calculating quietness. I’ll bet he’s hiding something. I’ll bet he’s wanted by the police.”
Jazz’s throat clutched as she tried to think of something safe to say, “Keri, you have an overactive imagination. Let it go.”
“I think if a guy really cares he’d be back. I think Victor is using you Jazz.”
“Just because you’ve had some bad experiences with guys doesn’t mean they’re all bad. Just let it go.” Jazz, on the verge of losing her temper with Keri, hoped she would take the hint. Keri just shook her head.
“You’re not telling me everything Jazz. I’ll drop it for now, but you’re going to have to tell me later.”
“You can think what you want to Keri. I’ve told you all I need to tell. You’re just going to have to accept what I say.”
“See? I knew you weren’t telling me everything. You just admitted it.”
“Keri, you need to mind your own business here. There’s no point arguing about it anyway. He’s gone.”
“Are you going to be okay? I’ve never seen you this upset over a guy before.”
“I guess I’m missing him more than I thought I would.” Jazz replied as they walked to the door of the restaurant. At that moment Jazz lost her footing on a patch of black ice and started to fall. Just before she hit the ground, however, a man caught her and helped her to her feet. Feeling a little shaky she made sure of her footing and looked up. When she saw who had helped her, she gasped. It was the guy with the dark hair who’d first made her and Victor get into his Suburban. Now she was even more afraid than when she thought she was going to hit the ground. She said nothing to the man who smirked and walked into the restaurant.
“Jazz, you didn’t say anything to him. He kept you from falling, and he’s not bad looking either.”
“Sorry, Keri,” was all she could say. With her heart pounding, and not wanting to go into the restaurant now, she was almost tempted to tell Keri she wasn’t hungry anymore. Trying to explain would be too difficult so she gulped and went in with her friend. They sat down.
While Keri was ordering, Jazz looked over her friend’s shoulder and saw the bald man sitting down at a table near by. She averted her eyes. She couldn’t believe he had the nerve to come in the restaurant. She adjusted her chair so she wouldn’t have to look at him. Unfortunately the other man was sitting at another table. He smiled wickedly at her again, frightening her.
“Aren’t you going to order Jazz?” Keri nudged.
“Oh, yeah, sorry.” Jazz brought her attention back to her friend. She ordered the tamales and a glass of milk.
“Jazz that’s got to be gross.” Keri shuddered.
“What?”’
“Tamales and milk.”
“Oh, but it’s good. The milk cuts the heat. Pop does too, but I was in the mood for milk.”
“Yuck.”
“You should try it sometime.”
“No thanks. I’ll stick with pop.”
“You just don’t know what you’re missing.”
“The only thing milk is good for is a deep rich chocolate cake.”
“Yeah. I could go for that.”
They ate their lunch, and for the rest of the conversation Jazz was able to ignore the men at the tables, for the most part. Trying to keep control over her face and voice, and trying to avoid appearing to Keri that she wasn’t nervous took a lot out of Jazz. They finished their lunch and after paying the bill, went back to the parking lot. It was now snowing harder than it did when they went in.
“It’s funny,” Keri began after they got into Jazz’s car, “but that guy seemed to be watching us. Did you notice? I saw another guy too. Did you see him?”
“Nope.” Jazz answered shortly, hoping Keri would pass it off.
“I wonder who they are.”
“Who knows. They were probably noticing how beautiful we are.”
“Yeah right,” Keri scoffed.
Jazz just laughed. After that near fall, she was more aware of the slipperiness of the road and the crunch of snow under the tires kept her alert for dangerous road conditions. She was relieved when they arrived back at the office. Once she got back to her desk, her fear seemed to overwhelm her more than she expected. She had to face going to her car alone later that evening and then she had to try to get to her apartment without help. Her stomach stayed in knots. The milk she drank at lunch which was supposed to calm her nerves, was curdling in her stomach.
When the time finally came for her to go home, she was tempted to ask someone to walk her to her car. She decided not to. Not in the habit of needing an escort she was afraid of unnecessary questions, so she decided to walk out with a group of people.
Everyone wished each other a good night, and each went their own ways. Jazz climbed in her car, locked the doors and took a deep breath. She started the car and pulled out of the lot. Looking in her rearview mirror, she could see them, stalking her. Her mind used the word. Her heart broke when she remembered that she’d accused Victor of it. This is what it really meant to be stalked.
At home she didn’t know how she was going to get in the door normally, but somehow made it back within the safety of the locked door and windows. The late afternoon winter sun set the peacock aglow. He seemed to glare at her as if to mock her, accusing Victor of abandoning her when she needed him most. How could he involve himself so much in her life and then leave her? In the same thought her mind reminded her that she’d sent him away. When she thought of his eyes pleading with her, his kiss trying to help her see his love for her, she burst into tears all over again. How could she be so cruel to him? But how could he keep that secret from her? How could he leave her in this predicament? Did he really love her? Yes, she knew he loved her. Her dinner had no flavor, she pushed it away and cleaned her kitchen.
In the middle of her dishes, she began to cry. “Father, I don’t know what I should do. Should I call the police?”
It seemed as if there was no answer. She felt alone and scared. What’s the point of being a Christian if she couldn’t rely on God to help her when she needed him? Then it seemed to her that a thought formed itself in her mind, as if someone was whispering to her, “Why have you waited until you’re in a crisis to talk to me.”
She felt ashamed. It was true. Most of her life was spent calling herself a Christian, but never thinking much about God or Christianity except on Sundays. She’d never spent time in prayer alone like she knew her parents did.
“What do I do now?” A verse came to her mind from a vacation Bible school a long time ago, “You will seek me and find me when you search for me with all your heart.” Where was that verse?
Spurred on to discover what she couldn’t remember, she pulled out her Bible. The pages still smelled of new ink and binding. She looked through the concordance. There it was. It was Jeremiah 29:13. She read the verse. “Lord,” she prayed, “it seems to be that you’re saying that if I try to have a relationship with you, you’ll help me find you. Please help me seek you with all my heart so that I can find you and really become the Christian woman you want me to be. I really want to live my life for you.”
The phone rang, Jazz was instantly afraid. Was it Victor? No. The caller I.D. indicated Pastor Jim.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Jazz. Are you okay? We missed you and Victor yesterday.”
“Victor and I had an argument,” Jazz cringed. How could she lie to her Pastor when she’d just decided to become more dedicated? But how could she tell him the truth? Well, they really did have an argument, but… Jazz realized that trying to live more for the Lord wasn’t going to be easy.
“Do you need Andrea to come to see you?”
“No, I’m okay. I just didn’t feel like being around a lot of people yesterday.”
“I understand. “
“Thanks. Can I ask you a question?”
“Certainly.”
“What’s the best way to start praying?”
“Ah, there’s a subject that would take a whole series of sermons to talk about. I promise not to go into a sermon though. You know we preachers are notorious for that.
“Basically everyone has to develop their own quiet time. Some people have music playing, some people find music distracting. Some people write, some people pray out loud. Some people pray in the morning, others pray at night. It really doesn’t matter how you pray, just do it.”
“What about Bible reading? Where do I start?”
“It’s best to pray first. At the end of your prayer, ask the Lord to direct you in the book or verses you should read. You could start from the beginning, but if you’ve never really read the Bible, you should probably start with the New Testament, especially John. Then later, when you’re ready, try reading the easier books of the Old Testament, like Esther and Psalms. Proverbs is good too, but it doesn’t follow a story like other books do. Just remember, both the Old Testament and the New Testament are important.”
“Thanks Pastor. I appreciate it.”
“Good luck Jazz. Remember it’s always hard to get started. You have to be committed because it’s easy to get distracted. You’ll be glad you stuck with it.”
“Okay, thanks.”
“Will we see you Sunday?”
“I think so.”
“Okay, have a great week.”
“Thanks, goodbye.”
Pastor Jim had never called before when she’d been gone. Jazz wondered what the change was. She hoped he and Andrea were okay.
She decided to start her devotions early in the morning. It was the best time of day for her anyway, and she’d be able to begin her new day with something positive. She was tired tonight. She went to bed a little afraid, but she quickly became aware of a feeling of peace she couldn’t understand. Soon she was asleep.
In the morning, the alarm went off, earlier than usual. The beeping volume increased until she found the off switch. She groaned not wanting to leave the comfort of her bed to get up and start something new. She rolled over, but now she couldn’t go back to sleep, her body began to ache. Stretching, she got out of bed and made her way to the kitchen. She turned on the coffee maker, took her Bible off the shelf and began to pray.
As she prayed, she found her mind wandering, and her eyes nodding off to sleep. She shook herself, and stretched again, noticing the coffee was finished. She poured herself a cup found a notebook and began to write. Owie jumped in her lap, purring.
“Father, please help me really make time for you. I’m desperate right now, I don’t know what to do,” She took a sip of coffee, feeling energized by the warm liquid going down her throat. She rose again, put on some soft music and continued with her prayers. Then, as Jim had suggested, she asked the Lord to help her read.
Not knowing how else to start, she opened her Bible’s table of contents. Scanning through the New Testament books, she noticed Philippians. Jim had preached on Philippians a couple of Sundays ago. What was his text? Oh yes, it was Philippians 4. She turned to it, and after reading the first verse she stopped. “…so stand fast in the Lord, beloved…”
Beloved. Jazz couldn’t believe what she was feeling. The Lord had spoken to her himself, through his own words written with Paul’s hand, and he’d called her Beloved. That verse was for her today, and she knew it; but what exactly did stand fast mean? She wondered, reading the verse again. As she pondered, its meaning came to her in the quiet of her morning and the warmth of her coffee.
To stand fast was like a mountain climber holding onto a lifeline as he climbs up the mountain. She was supposed to stand fast in the Lord. Then another verse from her childhood came to her. “Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and lean not on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge him and he will direct your paths.”
She couldn’t believe how much strength she’d received from the written words as well as the remembered, especially the single word “beloved”. She knew the message for her today was to be strong and hold on, because she was God’s beloved.
“Lord,” she prayed aloud, “Help me remember this and continue to pray every day. If this is what happens, I want to keep on. Help me be strong and help me now. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.”
She wrote a note in her Bible by the verse that had spoken with such love and strength. She closed her Bible and began to get ready for work, but something would not let her rest with just writing a note in her Bible. She needed some kind of confirmation in front of her every day. She wrote a note to herself and stuck a magnet on the refrigerator to remember this moment. It would give her what she needed to keep going. She left for work, carefully observing her surroundings.
As the week went by, Jazz often felt close to tears and panic, but in all this she discovered strength she’d never had before and knew it was because of her new routine. God gave her a certain and separate peace she’d never experienced before. It was amazing, too, the more she read and prayed, the more came back to her memory.
On Friday, a week after New Year’s, Jazz stood at the counter drinking coffee before she left for work. A dark cloud hovered over her as she struggled a moment to regain some of the power she’d been receiving, but it wasn’t coming. In frustration she grabbed up a towel and threw it at a piece of calligraphy her dad had given her last year for Christmas. She walked by it every day, but today she seemed to see it as if she’d received it yesterday. “For I know the plans I have for you, plans for good and a future.” A sense of awe came over her as she contemplated its meaning. Picking up her Bible, she sat on the couch. She looked up the passage quoted and read. It gave her the courage to go on.
Just before walking out her door, she stopped and smiled. Making a split second decision she poured coffee in two disposable cups and looked out her window. There they were. She walked out with a confidence she was unused to, and handed the cups to her stalkers, “Good morning,” she said, stunning the men, “I brought you some coffee. You two have a great day. By the way, I have to stop for gas on the way to work. You might want to do the same.”
The two men watched her, dumbfounded.
Jazz stopped at the gas station and filled up. She almost laughed when she saw her escorts pull into a stall next to her. Still feeling invincible, she smiled and waved. She was elated to see them give her a sheepish look before looking down. They were still holding their coffee.
Feeling like she was ready for anything, she walked through her building’s front door and rode the elevator up. She was enjoying this more than she realized. She sat down and began to work with more enthusiasm than she’d felt all week. A co-worker stopped by and began to chat. Hearing the rumors of Victor and Jazz’s apparent break up, the co-worker carefully avoided mentioning him.
As they talked, Chief Duncan Ray stepped into Jazz’s office. Jazz’s friend quickly excused herself.
“Oh, Mr. Ray, you startled me. What are you doing here?”
I wish I could say I was just coming by to say hi to a friend, but I’m here on official business.”
“Is there something I can do to help?”
“I hope so.” Duncan pulled a chair over to sit more comfortably. “I’m hoping you can tell me where Victor is.”
“Victor?” Jazz asked. She noticed her palms beginning to sweat.
“Yes,” Duncan replied leaning in a little, “I know you two have been dating.”
“Yes, we are...were. I...I haven’t heard from him all week. He’s not even been to work.”
“We know. Listen Jazz, We suspect that Victor is a man we’ve been tracking who is linked to several killings. Do you understand what I’m telling you?”
“Yes, I understand, but I haven’t seen him. We got in a fight. I don’t know where he is.” Jazz struggled to keep her emotions under control. She could not let him see her get upset. Who knew what she would say.
“Jazz, your father is like a brother to me. That makes you family. I need you to be careful, okay?”
“Okay. “
“We believe Victor is a man whose birth name is Kevin Frye, but there are also many others. He’s Michael Clark in California, Harold Brewster in Michigan and Frank Carlotti in New York. He’s a hired assassin and very good at what he does. He’s not been known to form any real bonds with others, unless he has an ulterior motive. Jazz, this is really important. He could hurt you. Would you please call me if you see him? He’s dangerous, Jazz. Don’t forget that.”
Jazz nodded, but inside she writhed. Duncan rose, patted her shoulder and left the office.
The longer Jazz sat at her desk, the worse she felt. Fear manifested itself into actual nausea. She ran to the restroom and got to a stall seconds before loosing her breakfast. Retching over and again, she finally stopped after a long bout of dry heaves. Her stomach empty, feeling weak, she sat down on the floor and leaned her head against the cool tile of the wall. She closed her eyes
Hearing the door open and the clicking of heels on tile, Jazz groaned. This was not what she wanted her co-workers to see. Hoping the person who’d walked in would go into one of the other stalls, she sat quietly on the floor.
Someone knocked on her door, “Jazz?” Keri’s voice called, “Are you okay?”
“I don’t feel too good right now.” She said as the door opened. She wished Keri would leave her alone. She meant well, but sometimes....
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“No, not really,”
“Why don’t you take the day off? You’ll feel better on Monday.”
“Thanks. I might just ask if I can. I don’t think I can last.”
Jazz left, glad she was getting away from too many caring, prying, nosey eyes. She went to her car, and began the drive home. She saw the two men waiting for her. How could she have been so reckless earlier this morning and feel so afraid now? She did not see Duncan in another car with his partner, but someone else did.
She came in the house, and immediately went back to her bed, exhausted. When she got up, it was mid-afternoon, and she felt only a little less nauseous than she had at work. A maelstrom of questions swirled around in her head: Where was Victor? Was he out taking care of the job? Did he really want to change like he said, or was Duncan right about him? Should she have sent him away? And what would happen if Officer Ray… suddenly the phone rang, jarring her nerves. The caller I.D. came up unavailable.
Afraid to answer, afraid not to answer, she let it ring five times before rushing to pick it up.
“Jazz?” Victor whispered, “Are you okay?”
Jazz was so relieved she almost cried, “Oh, thank God. Are you okay?”
“Yeah I’m okay. Why are you home early? Did you know you picked up another shadow?”
“It must be the police. Chief Ray was at the office today, he asked me questions about you. I was so upset I came home.”
“Damn. What did you tell him?”
“That we’d had a fight and I’d not seen you for a week.”
“Good. We’ll talk more when I get there, but that won’t be until dark. I’ve got to go. Leave your window unlatched tonight.”
“But…” Jazz heard the phone click. She went to her room, and unlatched the window.
Jazz went to bed almost as soon as it was dark. She waited, expecting to hear the window push open with its particular squeak. Listening carefully in the dark, she soon fell asleep.
In the middle of the night she was suddenly wakened, aware of a man’s lips kissing hers, her eyes flew open. In the dark, she could not see the man, but knew it was Victor.
“I’m so glad you’re okay.” She gasped, kissing him back.
“I’ve missed you so much, Jazz,” She felt him lift the covers off her and slide in. She wrapped her arms around him as he began kissing her eagerly and caressing her with his gentle words sweeping her away with him. Suddenly she realized she needed to stop him, but now she was afraid. What would happen if she told him no?
Duncan’s words came back to her. Would he force her if she said no? While enjoying his touch, she was also very aware that this was not what she wanted, that it was wrong. She had to say no, she had to protest. She loved him, and knew she wanted to be his wife no matter what, but she didn’t want this until they were married. While she hesitated, he continued to wander her body, becoming more insistent in what he wanted. Now, she had to say something or he would have her. His hands were searching and loving. She put her hands on his, “Victor, I don’t want to now.”
“I love you,” he said between his kisses, “I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I want you so badly it hurts.”
“Victor, no, please.”
“But Jazz, I’ve wanted you for so long...”
“If you really love me as much as you say you do, stop now. I don’t want to do this.”
Victor kissed her again, a long sensuous, knowing, exploring kiss. It was a kiss she was afraid of, a kiss she enjoyed. “Okay Jazz. I love you. I want you to love me. We’ll wait.”
Victor got out of the bed and went to the living room. After a moment’s hesitation, Jazz followed him and switched the lights on, embarrassed to see him in his boxers and T-shirt.
“Jazz, we need to talk, but I have to get some rest first. I haven’t had a good sleep all week.”
“I’ll get a pillow and some blankets.”
“Okay, thanks.” Victor took her into his arms again. He still struggled with his desire for her. The old temptation to take her and make apologies later came over him again. He held her close, struggling with the temptation. She returned his embrace. He buried his face in her hair, kissing behind her ear. No, he wouldn’t make her. She trusted him, and he decided he would change. He wasn’t going to force her. He closed his arms more tightly around her, and then released her.
“Goodnight, Jazz.”
“Goodnight Victor.”
He went to the couch; she went back to her bed. Victor slept long and hard and in the morning he awoke to the sound and smell of bacon sizzling and coffee brewing.
Going into the kitchen, he put his arms around Jazz, slid his hands across her stomach and held her to himself, kissing her neck.
When he turned her around, he was alarmed to find her crying. “Jazz, what’s wrong?”
A few minutes went by before she was able to speak. She sat down and sobbed until she could gather herself together. When she felt strong enough to speak, she found she could only say two words, “Last night.” Her eyes filled with tears, her throat constricted, sobs replaced words.
Victor sat down, stunned and angry at himself. What he thought was loving tenderness toward her, was actually trampling her. As much as he wanted her, he assumed she’d want him in the same way.
“I’m so sorry. I really have no excuse.”
“Did I ever make you feel I wanted that right now?”
“No. You made it clear, you didn’t want it at all.”
“Victor I was afraid of you last night. I didn’t think you’d let me say no.”
“I didn’t realize you were scared. I thought you wanted me to keep going since you didn’t say anything. I love you. I promise I won’t do that again. Okay?”
“Thank you.”
“I’ve been keeping an eye on you all week. Did you know that?
“No.”
“I wasn’t sure what to think yesterday morning when I saw you bring coffee to Johnson’s men. What did you do that for?”
“I don’t know, but it sure makes me afraid now that I think about it. I don’t plan on doing that again.”
“I have to admit you scared me, but I had such a hard time stifling a laugh when I saw their faces that I almost blew my cover.”
Jazz chuckled a little.
“Jazz, you have to be more careful. Do you see how easily you can be followed and not know it?”
“Chief Ray, the two thugs outside, you... I’ve never been so popular with the boys.”
She gave him an uneasy smile.
Victor returned her smile and picked up her hand. “You forgot Duncan’s partner.”
“Duncan has a partner?”
Jazz shook her head, “I was glad to hear your voice yesterday.”
“I know you sent me away, but you have to know I love you. I couldn’t leave you to face this alone.”
“I felt horrible sending you away, but I just didn’t know what to do. I’m glad you’re back.”
Victor kissed her check, “I’m really proud of you for going through your regular routine. I was concerned when you didn’t go to church.”
“I just couldn’t bring myself to leave. I think I can do it tomorrow.”
“Well, don’t worry. I’ll be there too. You know, I’ve come to really enjoy listening to your preacher.”
“Do you think Pastor Jim and Andrea will be okay?”
“I’m not sure. I hope so. We’ll have to trust God to take care of everything, including your Pastor.”
Jazz’s eyes got big, “Wow!”
“I know. Before this... before you, I wouldn’t have given God a second thought.”
“I’ve been praying and reading the Bible a lot this week, and it’s what’s kept me going. Can I show you what I’ve been reading?”
Loving her, he smiled, “Of course.”
They spent time together reading her Bible. It was a mystery to Victor how it seemed to speak to their situation. When they were done, he said, “Don’t you think we should pray for Pastor Jim and ourselves?”
“Now?”
“Why not?”
“No reason, I was just surprised you suggested it.”
“Jazz, if we’re going to trust God in all this, we have to pray; right?”
“You’re right. Do you want me to pray?”
“I think we should both pray.”
Not used to praying, Victor faltered, “God, keep Pastor Jim safe and show us what to do. Amen.”
After Victor, Jazz prayed, “Father, we don’t know how to pray, please help us and Pastor Jim and Andrea too. We need you. In Jesus Name, Amen.”
Victor held Jazz in his arms.
“I don’t think Monroe will do anything to jeopardize the job he’s hired me for. He’ll wait to deal with Jim afterward. By then we’ll have taken care of the problem so Jim will not be in any danger.”
Jazz didn’t want to ask how. It started snowing again, the winter was turning out to be unusually snowy and cold, which was just as well since it was safer to stay home. Victor kept an occasional watch out the window at the men watching the apartment. In the back of their minds both Jazz and Victor wondered how this would end. There were so many unanswered questions, so many unknowns. All either one knew was the love they felt for the other. Jazz refused to think about who Victor was. All she wanted now was to be near him. All that mattered was that they were both together and safe, even if just temporarily.
Too soon it was dark and time for Victor to leave. They went to the bedroom window, “Jazz, would it be okay if I come in at night to sleep? It will sure make me feel better if I’m here while you are asleep. I’ll be able to protect you and get the rest I need. I can’t be at my best without a safe place. I can’t go back to my apartment.”
“Sure Victor. I’ll leave blankets and a pillow on the couch.”
“Thanks.” Victor held her in his arms, they kissed. “Goodbye, I’ll keep in touch. If God can’t help us, no one can. Be careful.”
“You too, I love you.”
“I love you too.” Victor whispered as he slipped out the dark window.
In the morning, Jazz prepared to go to church, knowing she was bringing guests. She laughed to herself. She’d never brought so many people to church with her so often. And what a relief to know Victor had not left her!
After church, she went home and ate lunch, spending Sunday as she used to before Victor came. A sudden desire to talk to her dad came over her. She started to pick up the phone, but hesitated. What was she supposed to say to him? She’d end up telling him about Victor, and then what? He’d never accept him, knowing what he was. She put the phone down again. She was thinking too far ahead. They had to get through this mess first. Later would be the time to decide what to tell her dad and mom.
Late in the night, Victor came, pausing to watch Jazz sleep peacefully. He was cold and hungry, and struggled to fight the temptation to crawl into bed with her. He left the bedroom wishing she’d fallen for a guy who didn’t make his living with death.
In the living room he found a note, “Victor, there’s some dinner in the fridge for you. Love you.”
At the refrigerator door, he noticed the note she’d written to herself. Glancing over it he got the gist of the verse she’d written. “‘...so stand fast in the Lord, beloved…’ He felt a strong sense of an unknown presence lingering nearby. He read the rest of her note: ‘Trust in the Lord with all your heart and do not lean on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge Him and He will direct your paths.’”
He opened the fridge carefully, took out his dinner, and heated it up. He never realized how much his lonely life was missing until he’d been with Jazz these few months. He ate, then lay down on the couch wishing for her warm body next to his. In his mind he could almost visualize a quiet Sunday winter afternoon as they lay under the warm covers of their bed. No, he had to stop thinking about that. It was thinking too far ahead. They had to get through this mess first. Later would be the time for the quiet enjoyment of a winter afternoon.
His mind went back to the words on the note, “Trust in the Lord...” He fell asleep with that thought on his mind. His soul quietly rested.
Arising before dawn, he left again, and spent the day following Jazz, uneasy with the time he was spending, not taking care of the problem. How was he going to take care of both Johnson and Monroe, and keep an eye on Jazz too? The words came settling back down on him, “Trust in the Lord....” Time had not diminished the feeling of peace those words were for him.
Late at night he wearily crawled into her room again, not stopping to look at her. Again he went to the kitchen and took dinner out of the fridge. As he waited for it to reheat the phone rang. Startled, he stopped, expecting to hear her voice answer. Who was calling her this late? The phone continued to ring. It stopped. Alarmed, Victor rushed into her room, and turned on the light. No one was there. Now his cell phone rang.
“Hello Victor.” it was Johnson.
“Where is she?”
“Oh, she’s safe. Don’t worry about that, she’s safe. I decided since you went to the police, we should keep her here so she doesn’t get hurt.”
“Safe? That’s like leaving the wolves in charge of the lambs. We didn’t go to the police.”
“I suppose it doesn’t matter, the police are involved now. And you’re exactly right. Your little lamb will go to my wolves if I don’t get what I want. You’re taking too long.”
“If she is harmed in any way, you’ll have me to deal with.”
“You don’t scare me,” Johnson hissed, “Remember, I have your girlfriend. You’d better be careful about threats. I’ll send her back to you one piece at a time. Do you understand?”
“Yeah, I understand.”
“Good.” Johnson hung up.
Victor sat heavily on her bed. He’d never known so much fear before. He knew of Johnson’s cruelty, but he was an intelligent man. He wouldn’t allow harm to come to Jazz until it served his purpose. When he did kill… Victor stopped himself from thinking what might happen.
His thoughts shifted. Those blasted cops. If they hadn’t decided to follow Jazz, this wouldn’t have happened. Victor ground his teeth. It was time to get them off his trail.
Stealthily he climbed out the window, out to the dark street, and slowly, silently, crept toward the cop’s car he’d seen when he’d climbed into Jazz’s window.
Looking in the window from a distance, he could see that no one was in the car. Perplexed, Victor shrank back into the nearest shadow, unsure whether they were watching from another observation point. Victor glanced back toward Jazz’s apartment door, and scanned the ground around the stairs. Something unusual on the ground caught his experienced eyes. Victor approached the stairway slowly, carefully, keeping his peripheral aware of every angle and movement.
When he reached the stairs he looked to his right. One of police officers lay on the ground. He was dead, there was no doubt about it. Not far from the dead man he saw the other cop and his blood. At first he thought he was dead too, but Victor realized his knee was the only thing that was bloody. It looked like it was busted.
The cop lay very still. He smiled. Someone else had shot him, he’d just finish the job. Unexpectedly the man groaned. Laboriously, Duncan looked at Victor who raised his silencer Lugar, and put it to the man’s head. Carefully he began to apply pressure on the trigger. He stopped, lowered the gun and looked in Duncan’s eyes. Again he raised the Lugar, but somehow his finger would not obey his command to pull the trigger.
He lowered his pistol. It sure would be a lot easier to get rid of this guy who’d already caused problems. He raised the weapon once more. Why this hesitation? He’d never been indecisive about a job before, why now? Curious at his own uncertainty a voice that was not his own spoke to him. “You were going to change.” The voice reminded him. “Are you really serious? Here’s another opportunity to show a true change.”
“Another?” He felt his own consciousness ask.
“Yes, another,” the other voice said. A moment of quietness came to Victor before the name “Jazz” was spoken.
Then Victor understood. In spite of his desire for Jazz, he’d stopped what he’d wanted and allowed her to dictate the terms of his physical affection. At another time in his life, he would not have cared what she wanted.
The icy wind was beginning to blow. Victor sat back on his haunches beside Duncan, who ebbed in and out of consciousness. What had that preacher said? It was something like Jazz had once said.
It was change. It was impossible for a man to really change without God. And that God wouldn’t answer without Jesus. He’d quoted that same verse Jazz had, “With God nothing is impossible.” They were supposed to pray in Jesus name. Victor shook his head. How could it be that they were supposed to pray in Jesus’ Name and expect help? Hadn’t they used Jesus’ name when they’d prayed together? Now Jazz had been kidnapped.
“Trust in the Lord with all your heart...”
“But how can I trust now?” he asked the voice.
“...and lean not on your own understanding...”
The words were ripe with meaning. He was amazed at how the words came to him so easily after only seeing them once. With the silencer in his hand, Victor looked down at it, “God I can’t change alone. That preacher said I could do anything with your help, and so I ask Jesus to help me, I don’t understand why I feel like I should ask you to help. You let Jazz get taken. I’m afraid for her, but I don’t know who else to turn to. I want to change for my sake and hers, but it seems impossible.”
“With God nothing is impossible.” The voice repeated.
Victor thought a moment, holstered his Lugar, and hoisted Duncan up. The man groaned in pain, but didn’t have the strength to fight him. That knee was bad, and started bleeding, but Victor had to get him back to his car or he’d weaken even more from exposure. He raised Ray’s arm over his shoulder and neck, and supported him as he made his way to the car. Duncan was a heavy man. After some struggle, he finally got him in.
Getting him as situated as comfortably as he could, he dug around in the cop’s pockets until he found the keys. He started the engine, set the heater on, and picked up the radio in the car. He pressed the call button.
“Man down,” he said to the dispatcher. He shut the car door, and slipped away into the night. GPS would help the police find Ray. He had to leave. He couldn’t allow them to catch him now. Not long after leaving he could hear the distant sirens. As he drove away in his own car, the ambulance sped past him. Satisfied to see the emergency team, he contemplated his next move.
Since he knew that Johnson had Jazz, he was pretty certain he knew where she was being kept. Johnson wouldn’t let his insurance very far from him, but trying to rescue her from Johnson’s house was unthinkable. He knew he needed to flush Johnson out of his fortress, and he needed to flush him out with Jazz in tow. In his own home, Johnson had an advantage. Outside, where he and his enemy were both in unfamiliar surroundings, the odds could improve a little, even though Victor knew Johnson had a lot more men at his disposal. Victor had to act alone.
But getting Jazz rescued was not the first thing he needed to do, and he knew it. He carefully made his way to his apartment. He felt an urgency to obey the voice, even to the point of not worrying about Jazz.
There was a case in his apartment he had to get to, but he had to be careful. He knew his place was being watched as surely as Jazz had been watched.
He parked his car a distance from his apartment building, and made his way to his home. The area was dark. He kept himself in the bushes and trees pausing, listening, watching, and advancing. He was patient. He had to be, but it was cold. Stealthily coming to the back window he slid it open and crawled in. Leaving the lights off, he flipped on his red Swiss Army light, and found his case. He crawled out the window, waited a few minutes watching for anything unusual. Cautiously he walked back to his car.
He took a long winding road out of town, watching his rear mirror frequently. Satisfied he was not being followed, he drove to a lake deep in the wooded hills of a nearby state park. He got out of the car with the heavy case in hand, and threw it as far as he could. In the dark he could hear the splash and bubble as it quickly filled with water and sank to the bottom. In a few seconds the ripples from the submerged gun case came lapping at his feet. Every weapon he owned was now gone, beyond his reach.
He got back in his car, but a feeling of turmoil was insistently clamoring that he’d forgotten something. What hadn’t he done?
The voice answered with one word, “Lugar.”
Victor pulled out the gun and held it in his hand. He had always enjoyed the feel of this particular Lugar. He had acquired it early in his career, and it had saved him from many disasters. He could feel an argument coming on with the voice. He shook his head. He couldn’t lose this gun, it was always with him.
The voice was silent, then, “Change” was spoken.
How could he throw it away? But how could he keep it? All during his profession, he’d only allowed himself to take down men in the mob. Tonight was different. Tonight he almost pulled the trigger in anger, almost killed a cop. “Trust in the Lord with all your heart, do not lean on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge Him and He will direct your paths.” Without another thought, he got out of his car and walked to the lakeshore. He brought his arm around and flung the pistol as far from himself as he could. It was gone.
“God, I sure hope that’s really you talking. I don’t have any weapons left.” He prayed aloud.
“Good.” The answer came back as the ripples on the lake washed up on his boots.
The empty holster seemed a strange comfort. Why he felt unexpectedly reassured he could not understand. Now that voice urged him to rest, but where? His apartment wasn’t safe, but neither was Jazz’s. The police would look there first after Duncan was discovered.
The church. That would be a good place to hide and be relatively safe. He looked at his watch. It was just before midnight. No one would be there at this time of night. He immediately acted on the decision.
Although it wasn’t a long drive, he felt exhausted by the time he arrived. He was a little surprised to find a car in the driveway, but he didn’t think much of it. He drove to the back of the church and parked near the trees.
Quietly he made his way to the only lighted window in the building. It was open a crack and looked like he could pry it open further and crawl in. He stopped and listened but didn’t hear anything. Someone must have accidentally left the light on. He managed to open the window further, hoisted himself up the wall and scrabbled half way in. He was looking into the stall of one of the bathrooms.
Once he was standing on the floor, he brushed his jeans off, opened the stall door and found he was not alone. Pastor Jim stood in front of him with a shocked look on his face.
“Carter, Phineas Johnson here.” His voice smiled, but his face did not. Methodically he began mangling the rose, “Yes, it has been awhile. Listen, I need to ask a favor. I’ve asked Victor to take care of a problem for me, but I have a feeling he’s not interested in playing by my rules. Yes. It is unfortunate.
“I need to remind Victor who’s in charge. I need a new I.D, yes, for me. Use the name Kevin Frye. Good. I’ll have one of my men pick it up.”
He hung up. Looking down at the rose stem, he let it drop to the ground. Stepping on it as he walked, he muttered, “if you want a job done...”
He stopped as Mackenzie came out of a door, “Mr. Johnson, Monroe is in your office. “
“What does he want?” Johnson replied, annoyed.
“He has Ranston with him. Monroe says he went to the police.”
“Monroe. My watchdog. At least he’s still good for something. I need you to run to Carter’s and pick up an I.D. I’m having him make for me. It’s going to say Kevin Frye.”
Mackenzie knew better than to question his boss, but he could not hide from Johnson the question that flashed across his face.
“Mackenzie, you’ve been very loyal to me,” Johnson said after taking a few steps,
“You’ve done a lot for me, sir.”
“Yes. I have. I can see you have a question. Do you want to know why I’m making an ID for Kevin? Would it surprise you that I’m having my photograph put on it?”
“Yes sir,”
“I’m imagining you’re wondering why I would do something like that, but I can assure you, I have a plan.
“I don’t believe Kevin when he tells me he didn’t go to the police. It certainly would be something I would tell me if I had my girlfriend.”
Used to his boss’s thinking process, Mackenzie just nodded.
“If Kevin has gone to the police as I suspect, he’s told them about me. I’ve done my best to keep a low profile and Monroe has been my stooge for this.” Suddenly Johnson’s face darkened, “this would all be so unnecessary if Monroe hadn’t started clamoring for more money… but we’re talking about Kevin.”
“Yes sir.”
“After Victor takes care of Monroe, we’ll take care of Victor, making sure no one can recognize him. I haven’t decided whether to rearrange his face before we eliminate him or after, but I can decide that later. Anyway, I’ll plant my new ID on Monroe so the police will think Kevin Frye killed him.”
“But sir, it’s your picture.”
“Yes, that’s the beautiful thing. I’ll just have Doc give me a new face. I think I’ll have a younger one. Might as well kill two birds with one stone; eh?
“We’ll dump Victor in the river. By the time the police find him, he’ll be so bloated that he’d be unrecognizable even without the face lift I want to give him. What’s an extra body more or less? He’ll be an unsolved murder. So you see? It’s going to work out fine. The police will be looking for Kevin Frye as the person that matches that photo and I won’t have to go to the bother of changing my name.”
Mac only nodded, but somehow the plan didn’t seem like it was as perfect as Johnson seemed to think. It didn’t matter much. He was there for Mr. Johnson as always.
Johnson put a hand on Mac’s shoulder, “Go get the ID. I’ll take care of Monroe.”
Mac left the garden, Johnson pulled out his cell phone and dialed another number. He waited a moment, “Hello? Hey Doc this is Johnson. Can you set up an appointment for me? I need a special job done. The 25th will be perfect.”
Johnson lingered in the garden for a few minutes with his eyes closed. He sighed then slowly walked into the house, stopping a moment by a cabinet with a handy absinthe bottle, and the paraphernalia needed to mix a drink. Carrying the glass in with him, he opened the office door.
“There you are!” Monroe exclaimed, “I was just getting ready to come look for you.”
“Well, I’m here now, what do you want?”
“Ranston here went to the police. I haven’t been able to figure out what he’s told them, yet, but I was certain you’d want to take care of it yourself.”
“Good Monroe,”
“I’m not a dog Phineas.”
“Hmmm,”
Johnson nodded his head toward one of his boys, “Phillips, you and Douglas take Ranston to The Room. Have Monroe’s man go with you. When you lock him in, come back here.”
“Yes sir,” Two of the three men hoisted Ranston to his feet. Ranston, by now was weeping uncontrollably. He’d been in The Room before, but he wasn’t on the receiving end.
When Johnson and Monroe were alone in the room, Monroe asked, “Have you thought about our discussion last week?”
“Yes, I’ve given it much thought….”
Suddenly the two men could hear a commotion in the hall, a glass object crashed. Both men rushed to the door, but before they could open it, a gunshot was fired. When they got the door opened, Ranston lay dead on the floor, Johnson’s man was holstering his gun, while the bald man belonging to Monroe was reaching down to retrieve his gun from the dead man’s hand.
“Douglas and Bernie were on each side of Ranston holding his arms. “As I was leading them to The Room, Ranston tore away and grabbed Bernie’s gun. He tried to run and I shot him.” Phillips explained.
“I’m sorry Mr. Johnson,” Bernie apologized.
“Not as sorry as you’re going to be. Take him to The Room.”
“Mr. Monroe, please help me…”
Phillips and Douglas dragged Bernie away down the hall.
“Now I’m going to have to find a guy to replace Bernie.” Monroe complained.
“You should train them better.”
A muffled screaming could be heard down the hall, Monroe decided it would be better to let it go, after all, he was in Johnson’s house.
“We’ll have to get together another time and continue the discussion. I have some pressing business to attend to now.”
Phineas’ smile sent a chill down the Monroe’s spine, “Can you show yourself out the door?” he asked.
Monroe, who knew Phineas’ mind was with the man in The Room replied, “Uh, yes, I can. Thanks.”
Monroe stuck out his hand. Phineas looked at it a moment then shook it; his touch felt cold to Monroe.
She carefully looked around before getting out of her car, and made her way to the apartment. When she got in, she let Owie out and locked the door behind her. Setting her things on the couch, she realized how tired she actually was. She made up a bowl of soup and sandwich for Victor, but only ate a little soup herself.
After letting Owie back in, Jazz took a hot shower, anticipating how good it was going to feel lying in her bed that night. She dressed in pink pajamas and was in her bed by eight. The cat took her place beside her.
At first, Jazz had some trouble relaxing. The constant thought of Victor kept her awake. She was just on the verge of falling into a deep sleep, when the phone rang. Only seconds after she said hello, a banging on her door began. Still half asleep, she went to the door. “We’d like to set up an appointment to demonstrate our vacuums...” the caller began.
“No, I’m not interested. I have hard wood floors, only area rugs.”
The banging got louder. Jazz found it hard to think.
“Oh, but our vacuums also sweep hardwood floors without scratching…”
The banging grew faster, louder. In frustration Jazz thoughtlessly jerked open the door without looking through the peephole.
The taller of the two men who’d been watching her pushed his way in the apartment as soon as the door was barely open, wrenched the phone from Jazz and threw it across the room.
“What are you doing?” Jazz demanded. The man raised a menacing pistol to her face.
“Quietly. Come with me.”
“No,”
“You either come with me now, and quietly, or your brains will be splattered all over this nice wood floor the vacuum won’t scratch.”
Just at that moment, Owie ran from the bedroom. Seeing a strange man in the house, she laid her ears flat against her skull, hissed and bolted for the open door. The man took aim, Jazz yelled, “No,” and lurched for the pistol. A shot was fired, Jazz could see Owie’s tail whip around the corner, but didn’t know if the cat was okay. She turned on the man and began kicking and scratching at him, catching him in the face with her nails, ripping a long gash from his eye to his lip. The man pushed her down on the couch. Before she could stand again, he grabbed both her hands and tied them behind her back, then heaved her to her feet. He wiped the blood off his face, cursed at her and dragged her outside into the cold without her coat.
Suddenly Duncan and his partner appeared in the lamp light, both with guns. The kidnapper immediately fired off a shot at the man who was on the step closest to him, hitting him directly in the chest. With no time to aim accurately, the man whipped his gun toward Duncan and fired a wild, random shot. Duncan fell, Jazz screamed. The last thing she saw before being roughly pulled away was both men lying in blood stained snow, the man with Duncan lying face down, Duncan lying on his back.
When they got to his car, the man said nothing to her, pulled a foul stocking cap out of his back pocket and over her head to her chin. He pushed her down in the car and slammed the door. The car dipped to her left as he dumped himself into the driver’s side, slammed his door and roared away.
The stocking cap, saturated with the repulsive aroma of a sweaty, dirty head, invaded Jazz’s nostrils and her mouth. She gagged as she tried to breathe freely, sucking in foul threads from the cap. Sick with the smell and sick with fear, horrifying visions of being unmercifully raped and abused kept playing in her head. Her gums and teeth throbbed from her fear-accelerated pulse, sending pains shooting through her face.
Without the benefit of her eyes, it felt as if the car was rushing at a fantastic speed, taking curves unexpectedly and stopping suddenly. Nausea threatened with every turn and lurch of the car. She wished she would pass out. Whatever lay before her was as frightening as the trip, and as sickening as the noisome cap over her nostrils and mouth.
She lost all sense of time. After what seemed like hours of the sudden stops and starts, they appeared to be driving down a straight road. The feelings of nausea lessened.
Finally the car stopped, and Jazz almost cried with relief as well as fear. What was next? The driver turned the engine off. She was jerked out of the car, and forced up several steps at a rapid pace. They stopped momentarily as the man opened a door. She could tell they were now inside by the sound of her feet on the floor, the air was warm, and she could see light through the cap.
After walking a short distance, they passed through another door and stopped as soon as the door was closed. Someone ripped the stocking cap off her head. A rush of fresh air revived Jazz, but she felt dizzy. The nausea she had been fighting to avoid finally took over. She started to heave. Someone shoved a trash can in her hands just in time to catch the contents of her stomach which she spent several minutes losing.
Her stomach now empty, she was allowed to rest. Nothing was said, the room was quiet. Jazz breathed deep, the aftertaste of vomit on her breath. When she was able to take in her surroundings, she saw that they were in Johnson’s office. Intensely embarrassed, her head aching, Jazz said nothing.
Phineas Johnson leaned on his desk as if he’d never moved from the spot the week before. He raised his glass of absinthe to her, “Hello again, Ms. Phelps. I hope your ride was not too…uncomfortable. Did you think Victor would protect you from me? My man has told me that he hasn’t been to see you all week. I don’t think you understand the kind of man he is. He’ll shoot you himself if you get to be too much of a burden. I decided that, for your safety, you should come and be my guest for awhile. Don’t you think you’d like that?”
“No, honestly, I’d rather go home.”
“It’s too bad. You should enjoy this as a sort of… vacation. I don’t suppose you know where he is?”
Jazz shook her head no. She didn’t trust herself not to let her voice give her away.
“I think you know more than you’re letting on. We’ll have to have a nice chat later, but for now I think you need to rest and clean up. I don’t like my guests having so much... ah... travel dirt. Your rooms have a shower you are welcome to use. And Ms. Phelps, it’s up to Victor how long you’ll be with us. You’ll have plenty to read, but you must know there won’t be any possibility of leaving my home. Take Ms. Phelps to her suite.” Mackensie grabbed Jazz’s arm, and escorted her to a room. He opened the door, pushed her in and slammed the door. The lock jiggled.
Jazz found herself in a room with a bathroom attached. Immediately she went into the bathroom, found towels, soap and shampoo. She had to get that disgusting aroma out of her nose and mouth, had to wash her hair. She wouldn’t let herself think what might be living in that foul cap.
The shower felt wonderful. She let the water run over her nose and mouth, then bent her head down and breathed deep. The moist oxygen revitalized her sensibilities.
When she finished showering, she felt better, but her stomach still ached from throwing up. Now that the stress of being kidnapped was over, she found dealing with the state of being kidnapped curiously calming. She surveyed her prison.
Opposite the door entrance, there was a desk beside the bed. The walls of the bathroom and bedroom were beige. The bed, with a simple black-stained wooden headboard, had an off-white comforter with matching pillows. On the other side of the bed was the bathroom door, next to that was a massive bookshelf that stood against the wall by the door of the bathroom.
Jazz saw that Johnson had not lied to her. Unfortunately there was no television to watch, no windows to look out of and no radio to listen to. She explored to see if she could find a weakness in the armor of the closed rooms, but Johnson was more than right. Jazz sat down on the bed and cried not knowing what to expect.
Anger erupted at Victor. Where was he when she was caught? Did he know? What if he was dead? No, it wasn’t that. Johnson had said that it was up to Victor how long she’d be there.
Where was he? Maybe the police got him? But again, she knew that she probably wouldn’t be in Johnson’s house if Victor was caught by the police.
Interrupting her thoughts, someone came in with a plate of food, set it down and left without saying anything to her. She couldn’t decide if she was hungry or still feeling sick, but she was also afraid of the food. What if it was drugged? And would she throw up again?
Deciding she needed to focus on something else, she tried to think of Bible verses to help take her fear away. Sadly, she realized nothing would come to her. She was beginning to feel frustrated. She’d been reading her Bible all week, and now that she needed it nothing would come?
Then it seemed she heard a voice from a long time ago, she was probably twelve. The voice belonged to a preacher, who said something about a filing cabinet. It took some time to remember, but she finally brought it up. He’d said if a person didn’t memorize Scripture that person’s filing cabinet would be empty and he wouldn’t be able to think of anything to help in a time of crisis. No, not until recently had she ever bothered to read her Bible except at church, and she certainly didn’t memorize Scripture. Tears welled up in her eyes. If she’d been reading her Bible longer, she would know these promises and have some comfort.
Her anger was suddenly turned toward God. She and Victor had prayed, asking for safety for both of them. Didn’t that count for something? Why didn’t God answer their prayer and keep her safe? If she couldn’t trust God to answer her prayers, whom could she trust? “God, what’s going on?” she cried out, “You were supposed to keep me safe!”
Immediately she felt guilty, but she couldn’t help how she felt. With no one else to talk to, she began to pray again. “Lord I need something to help me through this, some glimmer of hope. Forgive me for being angry, but I can’t pretend and I’m scared.”
In answer to her desperation, she remembered the verse that started her reading her Bible, “I will bring you back to the place from which I carried you into exile....” She’d not understood that part of the verse when she’d read it last Monday, but now it was giving her more comfort than even when she knew God called her beloved. “I will bring you back...” There was that comforting voice speaking to her, promising her he would care for her and bring her back home.
As she sat on the bed she was taken back to the memory of Sunday mornings in early spring. The sun was shining, birds were singing outside, the congregation singing inside. “I know whom I have believed and am persuaded that he is able to keep that which I’ve committed unto him against that day,” Jazz thought about those old words. What did they mean? They seemed to give her hope, but why?
Then, like adjusting the focus on a camera, the meaning became sharp and clear. “I know whom I have believed…” The words, yes, she knew who she believed. She believed Jesus. Now she remembered it was Paul who’d written those words. She thought of the next line, “…and am persuaded that he is able to keep that which I’ve committed…” She’d committed her soul to God, but it was more than that. Everything she committed was in his keeping, and she knew he was able to take care of it. Now her very life was literally in his keeping. He was the only one who could save her. “… unto him against that day.”
Paul had written those words while in prison, just as she was in prison, and suddenly a new understanding came to her heart. It was an understanding that set her spirit free with a sudden peace. She knew that no matter what happened, whether it was good or bad or even life or death, the Lord was with her and it gave her new courage. Maybe being held captive by Johnson was an answer to the prayers that she and Victor prayed. She ate her meal unafraid, and then crawled into the strange bed and slept peacefully.
“Sir, we found a dead man outside the girl’s apartment. I don’t know who he was.” Buck repeated softly, knowing what his boss’ anger was like.
“You idiot! Why didn’t you watch what Victor was doing? What’s he thinking? He’s supposed to be gunning for Johnson.” A grin spread across his broad face, “Well, we’ll have to do something about this. Go pick up the girl. Victor is going to have to realize what it means to be in my employ. I’m going to enjoy this. The girl’s gonna be nice.”
“Mr. Monroe, the girl is gone too.”
Monroe exploded grabbing a stack of magazines, and throwing them at Buck; his face turned an angry dark red. He glared at the man quietly standing on the other side of his desk
“What are you doing here still?” he demanded.
“Sir, there was another guy who was shot. I saw him in his car.”
“Who was it?”
“I don’t know, but he looked dead too. We didn’t wait to find out. We heard sirens coming toward us, so we left.”
“Hmmm. Curious. Let me think about this.” Monroe leaned back in his chair. He pulled out his switchblade and flicked it open.
“What was the name of that church Victor went to?” he asked leaning forward.
“Prairie Oak Baptist.” Buck replied wondering where Monroe was headed.
“Is it a big church?”
“No, not really, it’s a small building but a lot of people go there.”
“What’s the preacher-man’s name?”
“I don’t know. I think its Jim, something.”
“Get me the name of that preacher. Does he have a wife? Kids? I want everything you can find out about him.”
“Do you want me to pick them up?”
“No, not yet. This will be good, for now.” Monroe sat back in his chair and laughed softly.
Buck left Monroe’s office, got into his red sports car and left Derrick for Prairie Oak. His eyebrows furrowed, his face grim and without realizing it he ground his teeth and clenched the wheel.
He arrived at the church around 10:00, but found it empty and locked. Mumbling something about bankers’ hours to himself, he noticed the church phone number listed on the sign. He dialed and waited as the phone rang. A message machine picked up and a pleasant female recording played, “This is Prairie Oak Baptist church. On Sunday we have first morning worship at 9:00 to 10:00, Sunday school from 10:10 a.m. to 10:55 and our second worship service from 11:00 a.m. to 12:00 p.m. If you need assistance, call Pastor Jim Foster at 712-3473. Please come and share our joy.” Buck hung up without leaving a message. He wrote Pastor Jim’s phone number in a small notebook and drove to the nearest convenience store where he acquired the use of a phone book. After writing the address down in his notebook, he drove slowly up and down the street, checking for observation points. It was just like any other street in town, but for Buck, an added feature was the small apartment complex about four houses down. He drove in the parking lot and chose a spot in full view of the Pastor’s house.
Soon he saw a burnt orange metallic Mustang pull into the driveway. Two men got out. One was Pastor Jim, the other was Victor. He watched them shake hands. Victor got in the black car and drove away.
Buck dialed Monroe on his cell, “Mr. Monroe, Victor just left the Pastor’s house.”
“Victor just left? Was the girl with him?”
“No sir.”
“Wonder where she is and what he was doing there? Why did he leave? Do you know the preacher’s name?”
“Yeah, it’s Jim Foster.”
“Is he married, does he have kids?”
“I think he’s married, but I haven’t seen any kids yet. It’s still early, they could be at school.”
“Keep your eye on them, and let me know if Victor shows up again.”
“Yes sir,”
Victor, just as surprised at seeing Jim in the bathroom, wasn’t quite sure what to say.
“I suppose you have a good reason for climbing in the bathroom at … what time is it?” Jim looked at his watch, “12:47? Maybe you’re the reason I was called here.”
“Called?” Victor was confused. He’d not been followed, he knew, and even if someone had followed him, no one would have called Jim to the church to meet him.
Jim laughed with a twinkle in his humored eyes. “Yeah, I was dead asleep in my nice warm comfortable bed, next to my nice warm comfortable wife, when I was awakened by a call. I was told I needed to come to the church, I assumed to pray, so I asked if I couldn’t just pray at home. The answer was no. I guess it was a divine appointment.”
“What is a divine appointment?”
“It’s when a person meets someone unexpectedly in circumstances that would be highly improbable, like a chance meeting in a church bathroom just after midnight. So, there’s a story here. Since I’m the Pastor of this church, I think I have the right to know why you’re breaking in at this hour.”
Victor said nothing at first. Pastor Jim could see the struggle. A patient man, he could wait until Victor was ready to talk although curiosity made his insides squirm. “This is so out of character,” he thought, but he checked himself. “Victor’s very guarded, not the sort to let just anyone know who he really is.”
“By the way,” Jim said, “we really don’t have any valuables here. How about something hot to drink? I could go for some hot chocolate right now. I don’t think coffee is a good idea at this time of night.”
Victor followed Jim into the kitchen. Jim pulled hot chocolate and two mugs from the cabinets. He heated it in the microwave, and led Victor to his office.
“Sit down, here.” Jim handed him the mug of chocolate, sat and waited.
It had been years since Victor had anything this tame, but it brought back troublesome memories that he didn’t realize he had. He rubbed his hand over his face and chin. “This is good. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I suppose I do owe you an explanation. The fact is that I need a place to sleep. This seemed the safest place.”
“Safest? What happened at your apartment?”
Victor couldn’t think of anything to say in response, he’d not intended to give that sort of explanation. Physically and emotionally weary, Victor could not recoup the strength he usually felt. He heard that voice again, whispering to his heart. He took a deep breath, “You said someone called you to come to the church to pray. Who called you?”
“The Holy Spirit.”
“He spoke to you?”
“Yeah, but not with a voice anyone else could hear. And it isn’t like I’m hearing voices either. It’s more a feeling that I get. It’s hard to explain the unexplainable, unless you’ve experienced what I’m talking about.”
Victor replied thoughtfully after a few minutes. “I think I’m getting your meaning.” He quietly sipped the hot chocolate, staring at the floor. He was struggling again, arguing.
When he finally spoke, Jim could barely hear him, “Jazz is in trouble.” He waited, expecting an explosion of some kind, but all he got was silence. How was he going to tell this man what he was? He looked up, “I guess there could be a lot of interpretations to being in trouble. Preacher, I’m a hit man.”
“What?” Jim asked, not quite comprehending.
“You know, an assassin, a killer, whatever you want to call it. That’s what I do for a living.”
“How did Jazz get involved with you? Does she know?”
“She knows now, but she didn’t before New Year’s Eve. Unfortunately I was not able to be the one to tell her.”
“Where is Jazz now?” Jim demanded, suddenly afraid of the man coolly sitting in front of him.
As if Victor read Jim’s thoughts, he lifted his jacket. The preacher could clearly see the empty holster, “Let me explain from the beginning....”
“Maybe you better. I’d really like to know why I shouldn’t call the police right now.”
“Because if you call the police, something might happen to Jazz. Please, give me a chance.
“Last year while I was in Houston, I saw Jazz at a bank and wanted to meet her. I followed her here and got the job at the magazine so I could be near her.”
The hit man told Jim of all that had been happening up to that night. Jim’s eyebrows raised, he leaned forward intrigued by Victor’s story. When Victor was finished he said, “Jim, I couldn’t help myself. She didn’t know it, but I would find ways to touch her when I followed her in crowds. I couldn’t stay away from her.”
“You mean you’ve been stalking her?”
“No, it’s really not like that at all. I wouldn’t intentionally do anything to hurt her. Jim, I want to marry her.”
Jim almost choked on the chocolate.
“Is that everything?”
“Yeah, everything. You’re the first person I’ve told everything to.”
“How does it feel?”
“A little frightening.”
“Victor, I don’t believe in coincidences. Now we have to decide what to do. Do you mind if I pray? This is beyond either of us alone.”
“No, I don’t mind.” But Victor really had been afraid this might happen. He prepared himself for a mini sermon in a prayer. He hoped he could stay awake.
“Father,” Jim began, “please help Victor and me know what to do next. Keep Jazz safe. In Jesus’ Name Amen.”
“That’s it?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, that’s all you are going to ask for?”
Jim smiled, “I don’t know what the answers are. I don’t know what to ask for except what I prayed. What more should I pray? God knows what we need and he’s ready to help us.”
“He hasn’t given Jazz and me much help. I don’t know why I should believe he’ll help us now. I certainly don’t deserve any help.”
“No, you don’t. None of us deserves anything he could do for us. We just have to believe he wants to help us.”
“It doesn’t really seem fair. I mean, after all I’ve done.”
“It isn’t fair, but he loves us.”
“I don’t know preacher. I have so many questions, but you Christians don’t seem to have the answers to the questions I ask.”
“Like what?”
“You say God is all knowing, but also say that he was sad when Christ was killed. You say Christ came back to life. How sad could God have really been if God knew he was going to come back alive?”
“Victor, I can’t pretend to have the answers for you either. That’s where faith kicks in.”
“Blind faith. Yeah, I know. I can’t understand how you can sit there and say we just have to have faith. Faith discounts intellect completely. You can’t have both.”
“I have to disagree. God gave us our intellect, but he didn’t make us as intelligent as he is. Many things will always be a mystery to us. We’re not all knowing, but the intellect we do have should go hand in hand with our faith. Without intellect, faith is no longer faith but superstition. Superstition is synonymous with fear.”
Jim picked up a Bible that was lying on his desk, “Have you ever read it?”
“I can’t say that I have. I’ve never seen a need.”
“That’s what most people say. ‘What good is reading the Bible today?’”
“Exactly.”
“But through the reading and understanding of the Bible we use our intellect. God opens up windows of understanding that help us see why we believe what we do. Through God’s Word, God speaks to our hearts and brings together our faith and intellect.
“It’s like turning on the light switch. With your intellect you turn on the light. Faith tells you it will illuminate the room.
“True faith acknowledges our weakness. True faith asks God questions and asks him for the wisdom to understand the answers.”
“Now, back to your question: How could God know pain if he knew Jesus would be victorious? I’ll admit to you right now that I’ve wondered that myself. I finally came to the conclusion that I just have to accept with faith that he did experience sorrow and pain. I can also accept, with faith, that God will help me see the answer to this question in his own good time.”
“Wait and see?”
“Exactly. Some day God will give me the answer to this question. Every time I read His Word, I get a little closer to understanding the mysteries of a life of faith. I will never understand it all, but I will understand what the Lord knows I need to know. The rest is up to me to leave with him... in faith.”
“You know Preacher, this is all well and good, but it doesn’t have much to do with me and Jazz. That was hundreds of years ago…”
“Thousands…”
“Okay, thousands of years ago. It proves my point. I need to do something about Jazz now.”
“The effect of what Jesus did thousands of years ago is still being felt, giving Christians strength in every situation. Right now what you need is rest. God knows Jazz is in danger, but he also knows you need rest. When was the last time you slept?”
“I actually slept last night… or rather yesterday night. I’ve been sleeping at Jazz’s… on the couch.” Victor added after Jim eyebrows raised again, “I felt she’d be safer if I was there at night. It turns out I was wrong. I should never have left.”
“Why did you?”
Victor glanced quickly into the other man’s eyes, but all he saw was curiosity.
“Ray was watching her. I figured she’d be safe with the police watching. I was looking for an opportunity to complete my task with Monroe.”
“Why him instead of Johnson?”
“Because Johnson contacted me first. Besides, I had a good reason for going after Monroe first.”
“Did you get him?”
“No, he wasn’t at his house. When I saw that no one was there, I came back. It was late. Jazz was gone. Ray got himself shot.”
Jim was silent a moment, wondering what Victor’s other reason was to go after Monroe first. Then he rose, “I think the Lord kept you from killing again. He’s calling you to himself Victor. You need to think about letting Jesus take control of your life. He’s the only one who can help in this impossible situation.”
“Actually Preacher, I asked Jesus to help me while I was sitting with Duncan. It probably really happened a couple of days before that. I was at Jazz’s apartment and saw a note she’d written about some words she learned in Vacation Bible School. ” Victor scowled a moment in thought. He wanted to get the words right, “’Trust in the Lord with all your heart...” he faltered.
“...’and lean not on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge Him and He will direct your paths.’” Jim finished for him.
“Yeah, that’s it. I think that was what helped me decide to let Jesus take care of this, but Preacher, I feel like I’m a little lost.”
“No, Victor, you’ve been found. The first thing we need to get you is some rest. I want you to come to my house. This won’t be a good place to sleep.”
Jim rose from his chair. Victor was tired, and wanted a safe place. He wasn’t in the mood to argue. The two men walked out a back door to Victor’s car, and got in. Victor drove Jim to his car in the front of the church.
“Nice car preacher.”
“You should see it in the daylight. It looks like a glittering sunset. The people in my church laugh at me, but I can’t help loving this Mustang. “
“It sure doesn’t fit the preacher image,” Victor said wryly.
“There are lots of ways I don’t fit the preacher image.”
“So I’ve already noticed.”
Jim got in his car and led Victor to his house. When they walked in, Andrea greeted them at the door. She was dressed in a terrycloth red robe.
“What are you doing up?” Jim asked as he kissed her.
“You weren’t in bed or in the house. I was worried.”
“Do you remember Victor?”
“Jazz’s friend?”
“Yeah, he needs a place to stay.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” Andrea extended her hand, which Victor took, “You can sleep in Mark’s room.”
“That’s what I was thinking,”
“I wouldn’t want to take anyone’s bed.” Victor protested.
“Don’t worry about it. Mark isn’t using it anymore.”
Something told Victor that it was better not to ask any questions. He followed them to a room decorated in sport blue and yellow. Scattered on the walls and dresser were photographs of a tow headed boy at different ages, but none older than fifteen.
“Good night. And don’t worry. We’ll figure out what to do next. After we get up, I’m going to go to the hospital and see Duncan. Do you want to come with me?”
“I don’t know Preacher. Going to visit a cop in the hospital isn’t my idea of a very wise move, especially if that cop was looking for me in the first place.”
“You’d be surprised about what is wisdom.”
Victor paused a moment, not sure what to make of that statement. “You talk about the cop as if you know him.”
“I do know him. He’s an old friend and his family used to come to our church. Unless I’m mistaken, he knows Jazz’s folks too, but we’ll talk about it later. See you tomorrow. Visiting hours start at 9:00. I’d like to be there as soon as I can.”
Jim smiled as he shut the door, then crawled into bed next to Andrea. He pulled his wife close to himself, “Andrea, I love you. Victor became a Christian tonight.”
“You led him to the Lord?”
“Nope. The Holy Spirit took care of that before I saw him tonight. It’s really strange. One minute Victor was arguing with me about blind faith, the next he was telling me he asked Jesus to help him. I’ll tell you about it, but not now. I’ve got to get some sleep.”
They snuggled deep in the blankets, glad of the warmth the covers brought, glad of the warmth each brought to the other. Soon they were asleep.
He wished he was in bed with Meg now instead of this hospital bed. His wife had been waiting for him after his surgery early this morning. He thanked God that he’d not made her a widow last night. It could have easily worked the other way. Stan's wife was a widow now. Before he could feel sorrow, a soft knock came at the door; Jim popped his head in, “Are you up for some visitors?”
“Sure, but I have to warn you, the nurse just gave me some medication. I won’t be much good after it kicks in.” Jim walked in and sat down.
“You got here awfully fast.” Duncan observed, “Were you visiting someone else when Meg called?”
“I haven’t talked to Meg. How’s she doing?”
Duncan shrugged, “She’s a cop’s wife. Late last night she got the call every cop’s wife dreads, ‘you’re husband is in the hospital. He’s been shot’. The doctor said I was fortunate. Besides loosing a lot of blood, he said I was close to subacute hypothermia. Fortunately the bullet wound wasn’t that bad. The doctor said I’d be out in a week. If Meg didn’t call you, how did you know I was here?”
“What happened?” Jim asked, avoiding the question.
“I’ve been on the trail of a killer. He’s been dating Jazz.” Duncan stopped a minute and shook his head, still puzzled. “Anyway, my partner and I were keeping an eye out on her apartment when we saw this guy come to her door. He started banging on the door, and pushed his way in before we could stop him. Then we heard a gunshot and thought he must have killed her. About the time we got to the bottom of the stairs he was dragging Jazz out the door. Her hands were tied behind her back. I couldn't get a clear shot. He killed my partner, and shot me in the leg.”
“Was it the guy you were tailing?”
“No. He was someone I’d not seen before. He grabbed her, and started down the stairs. When he shot me I think I fell and must have knocked my head on the cement because I really don’t remember much until I was at the hospital.”
“How did you get in your car?”
“I vaguely remember someone helping me. How did you know I was in my car?”
Jim smiled. Duncan was too good at his job to miss much.
“Are you up for a story?”
“I guess,” Duncan shrugged his shoulders. Jim was a good friend besides being his pastor, but he wasn’t really in the mood for a story.
“Early this morning I was awakened with the feeling that I needed to pray. I started to pray at home, but I realized I was supposed to go to the church to pray. I argued a little bit, but you know there’s no point in arguing with the Holy Spirit. I don’t know why we even try.”
Duncan was silent, wishing Jim would get on with the story.
“I went to the church, but decided to go to the bathroom before going to my office. I got in, did my business and was washing my hands when I heard the window being jimmied open. We’re going to have to fix that window. I turned around. A man I know was breaking in.”
“You know better than to confront a thief by yourself. What happened?”
“Calm down. All he wanted was a safe place to sleep.”
“What?”
“It was Victor. You know him.”
“Pastor Jim, you need to tell me where he is. The police have some questions. I want you to call them right now.” Duncan reached for his phone, but Jim wrenched it from his hand.
“There’s a lot you need to know.” Jim grinned. The pain in Duncan’s leg throbbed. He wished his medication would kick in. He wasn’t up for games. He glared at Jim, who was saying something to someone outside. The preacher walked out as Victor walked in.
“Do you know me?” Victor asked with ice in his hazel eyes, a cold chill in his voice.
“I know you.” Duncan snarled, “The name you’ve been using here is Victor Young. I suppose I ought to thank you. So why are you here? I’m sure it’s not to look after my welfare.”
“I don’t know why I’m here. I’m supposed to be here. I guess to talk.”
“Not to kill me this time?” What was really bothering Duncan was that he couldn’t figure out why this guy had not killed him last night as he’d obviously intended.
“If I wanted to kill you, I would have either shot you or left you. You wouldn’t have lasted ‘til morning.” Victor said blandly.
“Okay, so why didn’t you kill me?”
Victor pulled up a chair sitting next to a window and placed it at the side of Duncan’s bed.
“Someone told me not to.”
“What?”
“I don’t understand it, and I know I’m not crazy. Last year, after my last job, I started wanting to make a change.” Victor looked down at the invisible blood stains on his gloved hands. “I can’t keep this up, but when I first found you last night my intention was to put you out of my misery.”
“I hope you don’t expect gratitude. You’re a criminal and I probably need to arrest you now.”
“While you’re in a hospital bed?”
Duncan glinted, “Yes, while I’m in this bed. I can certainly arrest you if I had a mind.”
“Yeah, I think you’d find a way, but I can’t let you do that.”
“What about this change you seemed so sincere about a minute ago?”
“Johnson has Jazz. Do you know Phineas Johnson?”
“No, I’ve never heard of him.”
“How about Carl Monroe?”
“Yeah, he’s been a problem in this area for a long time. He’s a leech, but he always manages to get away, just like you.”
“Let me tell you a few things, Officer Ray. Johnson is the reason Monroe gets off, Monroe is the reason you’ve never heard of Johnson. Now they both want the other dead, and they’ve hired me to do it. I told them I don’t do that anymore. They weren’t happy about it.
“Then you showed up, and Johnson decided his insurance needed to be kept safe in his custody. He thinks we called the police. If you’d stayed out of this, Jazz might still be safe in her apartment. Listen Ray, Jazz is in a bad situation. Johnson is crazy, but he’s not going to do anything to her until she serves her purpose. Johnson doesn’t kill without a need and he needs Jazz alive and unharmed. He’ll use Jazz as bait to catch me, then he’ll kill both of us. I’m sure that’s his plan.”
“How do you know what he’s going to do?”
“I know Phineas Johnson. He’s an economist. He bides his time and saves his assets. When the time is right, he invests.”
“You talk about Jazz as if she’s something to sell. What’s your game with her?”
Victor said nothing, but stared at the cop steadily.
“Fine, have it your way,” Duncan said exasperated, “I’m going to have to arrest you sooner or later.”
“Make it later.”
Duncan thought for a moment, beginning to feel dizzy. Suddenly a voice whispered in his consciousness. “My arm is not too short to save.”
That wasn’t fair. That was a promise given to him about his son. Surely God didn’t intend to use that same verse for this guy, too?
“Yes,” the voice responded, “Victor is the same age as your son. I gave my Son; couldn’t you share this verse with your son and Victor? You’ve always known your son was mine as much as yours and Meg’s. Victor is mine too.”
Experience reminded Duncan that there was no point in arguing with the Lord. Jim was right.
“Okay, okay.” Duncan said aloud, more to the voice than to Victor. He couldn’t help feeling frustrated, “I won’t arrest you now. Do you have some kind of plan to get Jazz to safety?”
“Nothing yet.”
“Well you need to think of something soon. I won’t be out of the hospital for the rest of this week. I can’t really do anything about it until then.
“I don’t think you should do anything about it. Just stay out of it, you’ve almost got yourself killed as it is.”
“Hazards of the job. You’ve got hazards too.”
“Hey,” Jim peeked around the door, “You guys haven’t killed each other yet; have you?”
“No, we’re having a nice friendly talk,” Duncan replied grimly.
“That’s great,” Jim teased, “Well, you need to get your rest. I think we ought to leave now.”
Victor nodded his head. Leaving was exactly what he’d wanted to do long before. If Duncan didn’t remember what Victor looked like from last night, he certainly would remember now.
Victor was silent as they drove back to Jim’ house. Jim, not knowing what to say next, let him be silent. When they arrived at the house, Victor started toward his car.
“Where are you going?”
“Jim, you aren’t safe as long as I’m here. I have to do something about Monroe so that I can help Jazz get away from Johnson. As long as he thinks I’m doing his job for him, I think she’ll be safe. I don’t know what else to do.
“Have faith.”
“I’m trying Preacher. It’s not easy.”
“It never is. Come back here again to sleep.”
“Thanks, but I don’t know.”
Jim watched Victor get in his car and drive away. Buck was watching too.
He walked to the door, and opened it, “Come in, its cold outside. Can I help you?”
“Uh, yeah. I was wondering if you had any odd jobs I could do. I just lost my job and need cash for my rent.”
Jim eyed the young man, “Didn’t I see you in service a couple of Sundays ago?”
The young man looked sheepish, “Do you remember everyone that comes to your services?”
“No, but you sort of stand out.”
The man passed his hand over his hair and laughed. “Yeah, I guess I don’t really look like the church crowd.”
Jim laughed, “No, you don’t, but we welcome everyone. So, what’s your story?”
“Like I said, I lost my job last week and need cash for some rent. I was hoping to do some odd job around the church.”
“Well, we don’t really need anything done around here.”
“I’m a great handy man. I won’t need much, just a little help to get me back on my feet.”
Common sense told Jim not to trust this young man. He couldn’t look the pastor in the eye and Jim knew that indicated storm warnings. Equally as strong as human reasoning was a voice telling him to bring the man home for dinner. “Really? Take him home?” Jim seemed to hear a similar argument someone else had about a man who had caused much harm. “Okay, Lord.” Jim prayed, squelching the screaming warnings.
“What’s your name?” Jim asked the man.
“Buck,”
“When was the last time you ate Buck?”
“Yesterday morning.”
“Why don’t you come home with me? You can have dinner with us and then we can discuss what to do to help you out.”
Taken aback, Buck hesitated, he knew this is what Monroe wanted, but he wasn’t sure this is what he wanted. Suddenly he decided, “Sure; hey, I appreciate this.”
“No problem, just give me a minute and I’ll call my wife to let her know. I don’t like surprising Andrea with guests at the door. She gets a little upset at me.”
Jim disappeared into his office, and came out soon afterwards, “Andrea will set an extra plate. I’m all done here. Why don’t you follow me and I’ll lead you to my house.”
Buck got into his car and followed Jim’s Mustang as he started out of the driveway.
“Hello?”
“Where did you hide that delicious girl?” Monroe demanded.
Victor wondered if he knew how close he was. What was he supposed to do now? “She’s in a safe place.” He answered carefully, “I’ll do the job you’ve asked me to do, but I can’t do it properly unless I know she’s safe. There are too many distractions, and you know Johnson is an intelligent man. This job needs all my concentration.”
“Fine, fine. It doesn’t matter anyway. I have one of my men watching your new preacher friends. I told you I’d have to deal with him sooner or later. I guess you’ve made it sooner, since you’ve hidden that delicious little girl. If you don’t do the job I’m paying you for, you’ll have to find two more friends. Then when I’m done with them, I’ll come after you and the girl. You can’t hide her from me forever.” Monroe hung up.
He smiled cruelly. He’d get the girl sooner or later, and keeping tabs on the preacher and his wife was the next best thing to the girl. He hoped they had kids. His insurance would be a lot more secure if they had a couple of kids. He squinted his eyes momentarily. The thought of the preacher’s wife was intriguing. It didn’t matter what she looked like, he had to admit, but he hoped she was pretty.
Victor drove from Monroe’s back to Prairie Oak feeling hopeless. He and Jazz expected this threat toward Jim and Andrea, but Victor did not expect Monroe to make a move against them until after he thought Johnson was taken care of. And now how was he going to deal with Monroe, Johnson and Duncan all at the same time? Skimming just beneath the surface of his consciousness, Victor realized he was loosing control of his edge. To bring Jazz through this he would need it now more than ever.
He slammed his fist on the steering wheel. After all this he couldn’t bear to lose Jazz or even the preacher and his wife. If Duncan had his way he’d be sent to prison without ever having an opportunity for parole. No matter which way he turned, all he could see was losing Jazz.
He could leave Jazz after she was safe, never to return... no, he knew he couldn’t leave her now. The thought of living the rest of his life alone was more than he could take. Wiping tears away with his gloved hand, he pulled over on the lonely, little traveled road.
“God,” he prayed aloud, “I’m feeling hopeless and lost. You’ve seemed so near so often, but now you seem a million miles away. I thought that would be over after talking with Jim. Aren’t Christians supposed to have you with them all the time? I truly want to believe. What am I going to do, and how am I going to share a life with Jazz? I can’t live alone like this anymore. I just can’t.”
Somehow he felt compelled to turn the radio on. An old familiar tune came over the speakers, “I love you, oh how I love you...” The haunting words seemed to take on a brand new meaning. It was as if he was hearing the voice of God in a song, obviously not the intent of the singer. Victor continued to Prairie Oak, his hope and strength returned.
Satisfied that the potatoes were done, she turned the stew off, and took the dinner rolls out from the oven. She cocked her head, the voices were quiet. Curiosity put the rolls down, their dinner was forgotten for the moment. She walked into the dinning room.
Buck and Jim were staring at Mark’s photo, “What’s going on, Jim?” she asked, realizing something had just happened between them.
“Buck knows about Mark.”
“What?”
Jim gulped, leaned against the wall, “Buck shot Mark.”
Andrea, not understanding what Jim just said, looked at her husband who’d pulled a chair out from the table and was sitting in it, sobbing. Slowly Jim’s revelation sunk into the stunned woman who also sat down. So many years behind them not knowing who killed their son and why; now here was the man who’d shot him, standing in front of them.
If husband and wife had both known it, they would have been surprised at the very same question with the very same words directed urgently to God, “You brought our son’s killer to eat with us? Why?”
The loaded silence from above gently broke in answer to both Jim and Andrea’s pain filled anguish, “Be merciful for I am merciful.”
Mercy? Mark was their only son. A son who came to them late, after they’d given up hope of ever having any children at all. He’d been a son of promise, a son of miracles. Now he was gone. To show mercy to the thief who took his life was an impossibility! How could God ask it of them and expect obedience?
“With God nothing is impossible.”
“No, Father, I can’t,” man and wife cried in unknown unison.
Buck just stood in front of these who’d invited him in their home for a meal. They’d been ready to sit him down in the place their son should have been sitting but for his bullet. He’d never intended on killing that kid. It was an accident. The guilt he felt, the guilt that had been haunting him for ten years, guilt he’d been trying to hide from himself since that shot hammered in his ears, was a guilt that ate away at his soul. Over and again he’d asked himself why it bothered him. He’d killed other guys.
Time seemed to freeze the three in their places at the dinner table. Finally Jim brought himself to ask the next question, a question he could barely whisper out, the question that had been most on their mind since that horrible day at the hospital.
“Why?”
“I didn’t do it on purpose. It was an accident. That shot was intended for someone else. It was an accident. He surprised me. I didn’t see him until it was too late.”
“Why are you here?”
“I was sent to watch you and report to Mr. Monroe everything you did, and when a certain person came in and out.”
“Victor?”
“Yeah.”
“Why were you supposed to watch us?”
“I think Mr. Monroe was going to have me kill you if Victor doesn’t do as he’s told.”
“Why us?”
“Because the girl we were watching has disappeared, and Mr. Monroe needed something to hold over Victor. He’s said he was going to have you taken care of when Victor’s job is done anyway.”
“Why?”
“When I went into your church the first time I was tailing Victor I heard your sermon and it made me want to change. Mr. Monroe doesn’t want me to change. He wants me just the way I am.
“I’m tired of living this life. I’ve done a lot of bad things. I need to change” Buck began to weep.
A soft knock came to the door. Wanting to escape, not believing they were suddenly thrown into turmoil, Andrea quickly slipped out the dinning room to answer. It was Victor.
“Andrea, where’s Jim?” Victor demanded immediately seeing her red eyes.
She pointed.
Almost running over Andrea to get past her, Victor rushed in. With one look he brought Buck in his sights. All of the fear and anguish from loosing Jazz erupted, threatening to engulf Buck. Jim could clearly see murderous rage in Victor’s face and eyes as he rushed the other man who was preparing himself for the onslaught. His natural pastor instincts kicked in; terrified, but determined, Jim tackled Victor with a full body slam. Both men landed on the floor with Andrea’s “STOP!” reverberating in their ears. Victor pulled Jim to his feet and slugged him in the face, sending the preacher sprawling back against the wall, knocking a hole in the sheetrock and pictures to the floor. Realizing what he’d just done, Victor backed off from both Buck and Jim.
Andrea lunged toward Jim, “How dare you strike my husband in our own home? What more do we have to expect Victor, especially after taking you in?”
“Andrea, I...” Victor looked at Buck then at Andrea sobbing, and then at Jim.
“I’m alright Victor.” he said shakily standing up straight, rubbing his jaw. A black bruise was already forming. “You have quite a swing.”
“Why did you get in my way? Do you know who this man is?”
“Yes, I know. This is Buck. He’s one of Monroe’s men. He’s just confessed to us that Monroe has sent him and his intention is probably to have Buck kill us. Victor, you’ve got to calm down. Nothing good will come of your anger. We still don’t know what Buck’s intentions are.”
Victor paused a moment, collecting himself. He needed his head clear. “I’m okay now, but I want to know why he’s here.”
“I don’t have to answer to you." Buck yelled, and then more quietly, "I’d not intended to tell them anything, but I’m glad they know. I don’t want to hurt them any more than I already have.”
”What have you already done?”
“Buck is the reason we don’t have Mark anymore,” Andrea sobbed.
Jim put his arm around his wife and held her for a few moments while she cried.
“Leave the room.” He told the other men.
Victor and Buck walked into the living room. Quiet fury returned to Victor, “I got a call from your boss a few minutes ago. He told me you were watching Jim and Andrea. I want you to back off, or you’ll find yourself in my sights. I don’t miss.”
“You’d better not threaten me...”
Jim walked into the room feeling the tension charging the air; silently he asked his Lord if this is what he intended. His jaw still throbbed; he glared at the other two men in the room.
“Andrea and I are having a tough time with this and we’re not quite sure what we should do. My first inclination is to call the police, but something tells me that’s not what the Lord wants us to do. We need to find a solution to these problems. Let’s sit down.”
Reluctantly Buck followed Jim’s example, but Victor remained where he was. Fear threatened to freeze Jim’s blood at Victor’s menace, but the calm reassurance promised in difficult times brought new courage to the preacher.
“Victor, I believe God is telling me to give Buck a chance. After all, I know a man who claimed he wanted to change, and even went so far as to tell me that he has become a Christian. Not many people would believe him, given his career of choice, but nothing has happened to cause me not to believe him. Don’t you think I should extend the same trust in the Lord toward someone else?”
Buck looked at Victor, “You’re a Christian now?”
Relaxing only a little, Victor nodded, “It happened when Jazz came up missing.”
“You didn’t hide her?” Buck exclaimed.
“Victor tells us that your boss, and Johnson both want the other killed and they’ve both hired him.”
“Preacher, don’t tell him anything else. You’ve already put Jazz in more danger.”
“But Buck might be able to give some insight to a solution.” Jim replied.
Silence hung heavily in the room. No one really knew what was to be said next or by whom. Then Buck knew. He pulled a handgun out of his jacket, paused a moment scowling at Victor. He raised the barrel to the air. Andrea walked into the room, everyone held their breath. What was Buck was going to do next? He flipped out the clip and handed the gun to Jim. Conflicted, Jim received Buck’s gun in his hand. Was this the gun that robbed him of his only son? He didn’t want to ask.
His only son. The words came crashing in his brain to a brand new meaning, the contrast and similarity both so frightening that he would have fallen down if he hadn’t been sitting down. He wasn’t sure if he could breathe another breath without the rending, stabbing pain to his heart. As forceful as Victor’s hard right to his jaw, the hit man’s question came hammering back to Jim, “How sad could God have really been if God knew he was going to come back alive?”
Mark had been a strong Christian, even at fifteen. He’d brought several of his friends to know Jesus, and had heard the same call to be a preacher that his dad heard. Jim and Andrea knew without doubt that he was with Jesus at that very moment and was victorious, even in his early death. That knowledge did not lessen their pain. Now their son was delivering a message to his Mom and Dad fulfilling his vision to preach even after his life. Jim looked at Victor, “The other night you asked me how God could know sorrow at Jesus’ death.” Victor nodded, wondering why his friend was bringing that up now.
“God the Father had declared to the people multiple times that Jesus was His Son and He was well pleased with Him. Yet the people turned on Jesus. They beat, mocked and tortured him to death. That was bad enough, but then all the evil that had ever been committed before Jesus’ death and after lay on the shoulders of His Son, separating them to the agony of the Father and the horror of the Son while he hung on that cruel cross. Separation from the Father is what killed Jesus.
“‘Father forgive them,’ the beloved Son had prayed.”
Jim took Andrea’s hand, kissed it and got out of the chair. Jim gave a hug, heavy with manly affection, to each of the two men, surprising both.
“The knowledge God the Father had that Jesus would be victorious didn’t lessen his pain. Yes God knew, but the pain was still there. Yes Jesus knew, but the sacrifice was no less because of the knowledge. And we’re to forgive just as Jesus asked God to forgive us.” He looked up at Andrea “All this time we’ve had a small taste of what God must have gone through when Jesus died, and yet, Jesus is the path of forgiveness. How can we not forgive Buck?”
Victor and Buck looked at each other confused.
“I don’t see where you think anything you could have done was as bad as the terrible thing I’ve done. How can you say you forgive me?” Buck responded.
“We can’t forgive you, but God can help us know how.”
For the first time in his life Buck was hearing exactly what he most wanted to hear, even before the death of the boy Mark. God is a loving, forgiving God. Forgiveness he knew he didn’t deserve.
“This is more than I can understand. How can you extend love to this…” Victor struggled for the word he could use in front of Jim and Andrea, “..this man who killed your son. I don’t think I can believe in a God like that.”
“Victor, Buck didn’t do it on purpose.” Andrea said gently, surprising her husband. “You’ve killed too. You and he are a lot alike. And you know,” Andrea put her hand on Victor’s shoulder, “Jim and I have killed too, in our own way. Don’t look at me like that. It’s true. Anytime we’ve ever hurt someone with our words, we’ve killed part of that person. We’re no different than you and Buck. You…”
Victor’s cell phone suddenly rang. He put it to his ear, “Hello?”
The three waited to hear Victor’s part of the conversation, but he wasn’t saying anything. Finally he pushed a button, ending the call, “Its Johnson. He wants a meeting.”
It had been three days since she’d been taken, as near as she could guess. Time was only marked by a clock chiming down the hall, the light going off and on again under her door and the type of meal they brought her.
The book she held was an old pirate novel written in the twenties. She really wasn’t interested in reading about pirates, being more intent on figuring out a way to escape. It was a thought that constantly repeated itself in her mind. She had no idea if there was a guard outside her door, or if there were cameras in the room or in the hall, but she had to try something.
Startling her out of her concentration, the door knob jiggled instead of clicked, and a man came in with her supper. She watched him set it down. As usual he said nothing to her, but turned and left shutting the door behind him. The door jiggled again. She wondered why she hadn’t noticed before. The door wasn’t locked with a key, it had a turn lock. She smiled. All she needed was something hard and thin. All she needed was a butter knife. She picked up the utensils provided for her meal and found exactly what she was looking for. Excitedly she hid it, hoping the guy who picked up her plate wouldn’t notice it missing.
She ate all her meal, not knowing when her next would be if she succeeded. She had to plan this just right. If she tried it too early someone would find her in the hall. She would wait until the light in the hall turned off.
Not long after she finished dinner, her guard picked up her plate and left, again without a word. What a relief.
After almost falling asleep several times, the light underneath the door went out. She turned her light out too. Certainly if she could see the hall light under the door, they could see her light from the hall. Knife in hand, she began to work at the lock, trying to be quiet. The jiggling sound from the knife working the lock magnified in her ears. She couldn’t be caught. This was the first good idea she’d had and to be caught now would be a disaster. Were there occupied rooms near hers? She dropped her knife. Trying to catch it, she made more noise than if she’d let it fall on the carpeted floor. She waited a few minutes to make sure no one was coming. Her heart raced. One side of her brain told her to hurry but correcting the urging the other side of her brain told her she needed to be cautious and slow.
Finally the door unlocked and came open quietly. Jazz was glad Johnson seemed fastidious enough to want everything in perfect order, including the door hinges. What a contrast to Monroe! She shuddered. Just the thought of Monroe made her sick. Anxiously she crept out in the hall. Which way? She seemed to remember being brought in from the right. She went left. The hall seemed long and was completely dark.
To guide her in the darkness she walked with her hand gliding along the hall wall. It was an eerie walk in an alien world with unfamiliar aromas and textures. Soon she came to a break in the hall wall, and could only guess it was a door. She adjusted her hand to follow the door jam, and found a door knob. She hesitated, not knowing whether to try this door, or continue. How would she know which one to choose?
She decided against opening this door with a feeling she shouldn’t open the first door she came to. About fifty feet later, she came to another door, and passed over that one. Another fifty feet, another door; she decided she’d open the next one. As she suspected, after another fifty feet she came to a third door. This one is it, she told herself.
Jazz slowly turned the handle, hoping and praying it wouldn’t make a loud click. It turned easily, but she took her time, which seemed an agony of minutes. Her palms sweated and the door knob often slipped. When she was able to turn it completely, it opened quietly. Not opening it wide, she slipped in the semi-dark room. She could see French doors ahead of her, opening to what looked like a patio.
The night seemed unusually bright, but she didn’t think about why. Quietly she made her way to the doors, opened them and stepped outside. With no coat on, the icy wind cut through her clothing and her heart sank. Examining her surroundings, she realized she wasn’t on a patio at all, but on a balcony overlooking a snow covered courtyard surrounded by the walls of the house. She could see no way out, and there seemed no way off the balcony. Disappointment overwhelmed her. Tears blurred her vision, but a sudden rush of warm air from behind stopped the tears from flowing. She held her breath.
Someone began moving hands up her arms, across her shoulders and up her neck, then back down the path they’d followed. A cold shudder oozed down her spine as she smelled the anise aroma and felt Johnson press his body against her back. With his mouth close to her ear he whispered lazily, “Are you here to keep me company tonight?”
Of all the rooms she could have stumbled into, why did it have to be his? Johnson licked her neck, sending shock waves of repulsion through her body. She tried to fight him off, but he was much too strong for her. He turned her around and forced her to kiss his lips, holding her head firmly in his hands as he thrust his tongue between her teeth. His breath was foul and the residual absinthe on his tongue left an unpleasant taste of the liquor in her mouth. She gagged knowing that if she got through this she’d never enjoy another licorice again. He released her with a cold smile spreading across his evil face, “You’ll be nice, but I must save you for another time. Don’t worry though. That time will come soon enough my love. It’s been so long, but I can wait.”
With a firm grip on her arm, he dragged her struggling back into her room, and violently shoved her onto the bed. Before she could regain herself, he was on top of her, “You’re a surprising and resourceful young woman, but I told you there’s no way to leave me right now. Be assured you’ll have the pleasure of my company when I take care of Victor.” Johnson gave her another evil smile, rose and left. Fear, exhaustion and disappointment overwhelmed her. She sobbed herself to sleep.
It was light when she awakened at the sound of the door jiggling. She sat up in her bed and watched as the man who brought her breakfast set her food down, and walked out. Immediately after, another man carrying a large package wrapped in paper came in with Johnson following behind.
“Good morning Miss Phelps. After our visit last night, I thought you might enjoy a drawing of mine. It’s in pencil. I wish I’d had time to paint it in color like I wanted, but I think you’ll find it interesting. I was inspired to draw it after you left and finished it just this morning. It will remind you of our meeting and help you look forward to the next time we’re alone in my rooms. Enjoy your breakfast.” Johnson paused and stared at her, smiling a blank smile with those terrible vacant eyes. Jazz shuddered; she’d just had a glimpse of hell.
The man with the art unwrapped it and hung it on the wall. When he finished his work, he turned and leered at Jazz, then walked out the door. She caught sight of the new guard. The door closed.
Jazz knew she didn’t want to look at the drawing, but the room was too small to avoid it. Nothing prepared her for this glimpse into the horrific imagination of a man addicted to absinthe, a drink she’d never heard of before she’d met Phineas Johnson.
Johnson had used crimson and orange pencil to scribble a hell’s impression. A drooling Minotaur, blurred and indistinct in many places was clothed in rags. His muscular arms carried a woman next to his massive chest; her face was filled with a terrified look of fear and pain. The terror distorted her features so much that Jazz almost missed the representation of herself. It didn’t take long for the shock to dawn on her at what Johnson seemed to have in mind when he sketched this monstrosity.
The monster seemed to ignore the woman in its arms, watching Jazz wherever she moved in the room. It had as intense a look of satisfaction and appalling pleasure on its bull face as the woman had of pain and terror. It was a dark and evil picture which almost paralyzed the young woman with fear.
The awfulness of having that thing hanging over her, staring down at her while she slept and when she awoke was more than she could stand. She ripped the fitted sheet off the bed, and threw it over the drawing even though she loathed touching it. The double sheet fit perfectly, but she knew it was still there. Its torturing image haunted her all day long. How was this going to end?
At lunch she could not eat, but by supper she was famished and quickly finished her meal. Feeling a little better, she decided to go ahead and shower since she intended on going to sleep early. Last night’s attempted escape and the emotional drain of the day left her exhausted and sleep would pass her time of captivity away better.
The shower felt good. She allowed herself the enjoyment of the hot water until it was almost gone. When she finished the shower, the bathroom was hot and steamy. She opened the door, just a crack to allow cool air to circulate while she spent some time washing her underwear. She hung them up on the shower curtain and finished dressing without them. As soon as she walked out the door, she stopped aghast.
The sheet was off the drawing and was folded neatly on the bed. Johnson sat at the desk dressed in a brown silk robe with gold trim. She could see his bare legs. A bottle of water and a bottle of Absinthe with its glass sat on the desktop. Johnson was just preparing himself a fresh drink. “Good evening Ms Phelps,” he said in mock politeness, “After last night I felt I did you a disservice by leaving you alone for so long. I decided that you should have the pleasure of my company on these evenings that you are a guest in my home.
“I’m very hurt that you don’t like my creation. I thought maybe we could discuss it and you might come to appreciate my creativity.”
The shock of seeing this loathsome man sitting in her room in just his bathrobe left her speechless for just a moment. She dared not let him know just how terrified she was. “I don’t know what the point is, Mr. Johnson,” she replied in equal cold politeness, “We don’t have that much in common.”
“We’ll find something I assure you. Perhaps you’d like to try a little Absinthe? No? Well, it’s okay for now. More for me.” He raised his glass to her.
“How are you doing tonight? Tell me. Why did you cover my art? I spent all night drawing it and dreaming about how much you would enjoy it.”
Not knowing what else to do, Jazz sat in another chair. Her one idea was to keep him talking. It might help him think only of the drink and keep other ideas out of his head. The more he drank, she hoped the more drunk he’d become. The more drunk he was, the more relaxed he’d be; or would he? She had no idea how Absinthe affected the mind.
“Mr. Johnson, I don’t like Greek mythology. I never have.”
“Ah, but this is special. Can you tell me why?” He watched her while sipping his drink.
Shaking inside and gulping, she whispered, “That’s me.”
He smiled, “Yes, you are a very intelligent woman. Who is the other?”
“You?”
“Ah, no wonder Victor loves you. It’s too bad really. You should never have gotten involved with him. Oh, but I almost forgot. He didn’t tell you; did he.”
She said nothing.
“Ms. Phelps, you really should be more careful who you get involved with. But I guess it’s too late for that now.” Johnson took another sip and grew quiet. His head seemed to droop. Glass after glass he filled and emptied, while his eyes looked more vacant with each drink as he just sat in her room.
At one point, Jazz got up and went to the bathroom. How long was he going to stay? She was so tired, but she dared not crawl into bed. What if he wasn’t as drunk as he seemed to be?
“Do not be afraid, and do not be dismayed,” a quiet voice whispered. Where did that come from? She knew the answer before she even asked. From somewhere in her past she’d heard it, but she didn’t’ know where and could only guess it was from the Bible.
“How can I not be afraid?” She cried out to the Voice.
“I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand. Sleep.”
“Sleep? With him here?”
“Sleep.”
She could not resist the Voice and she was tired to the point of falling down. Obeying the words she lay down and was almost asleep before her head hit the pillow.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Meg came in, firmly prepared to stop him by force if she had to. They’d been married thirty years, how could Duncan not know she would try to stop him?
“Meg, Jazz is missing. I know Victor has something to do with it, and I mean to see him put away. I’m not sure what his game is, but if Jazz is alive she doesn’t have much time. She can’t wait until my leg is healed.”
“Duncan, you can’t go out like this. You can call one of the other guys. You need to stay home.”
“Meg, look at me.” Duncan pulled his wife to face him. “How would you feel if our daughter was kidnapped?”
“But you’re not going to do Jazz any good if you get yourself shot again.”
“I’m sorry Meg, I’m going out. I have to, besides Stan’s killer has to be brought to justice. No one else knows this case as well as I do and he was my friend.”
“Duncan, I love you. I wish I could stop you, but maybe that’s one of the reasons I do love you.”
Duncan kissed his wife, “You pray for me everyday. Pray for me now. I need the Lord to see this through for me, I need to go.”
Hating to see him go, she nodded. This wouldn’t be the first time he went out before he should have. It wouldn’t be the last. “Okay you crazy old man, just be careful.”
“I will. Right now I’m just going to Jim’s. Somehow Victor’s got Jim convinced he’s a Christian now. I don’t understand it, because Jim’s usually pretty level headed. He’s way out of his league; I don’t know how Victor got around him. Whether he knows it or not, he’s at risk too. The only way I’m going to help them is to stake out Jim’s place.”
“Alone?”
“Yeah, alone. You know we’re Lone Rangers most of the time anyway.”
“Except in dangerous situations. Besides, the Lone Ranger had Tonto and Jim West had Artemis Gordon.”
Duncan smiled. She knew him so well. “That’s not fair.”
Meg returned her husband’s smile with a kiss on the cheek, “You started it, and that’s what wives are for.”
“That and so many other things.”
Meg giggled.
“I’ll see you later. I love you.”
She watched him walk to the car and drive out in the street, disappearing down the dark road. She tried to keep it light with him, but when he left like this she let the tears flow once the door was closed.
Duncan sat outside Jim’s house in the same parking lot that Buck had found so useful. Soon a man dressed in black with a dark stocking cap got out of a black car, apparently locking it before leaving. Furtively he made his way to Pastor Jim’s front door, and knocked. The door opened and he slipped in.
Johnson had spent every night with Jazz since the night she tried to escape in much the same way as the first evening after the attempt. They conversed for a few sentences, and then he fell into a drunken daze, drinking his liquor of choice. The man seemed to enjoy terrorizing her with his presence.
That night Johnson walked into the room in his robe as usual, with bottle and glass in hand. He sat down and prepared himself a drink, “Ms Phelps, I have to tell you that I have been having dreams about you and me together,” He picked up his bottle, already half empty, “You’ve no idea the dreams la Fée Verte gives. But you will discover the joy she gives to those who worship her. Yes, as soon as Victor does his job, I will take care of him and introduce you to the Green Fairy when I have you all to myself. It will be you and me and Absinthe.
“Your God isn’t much of a god if he let me take you. Why are you so insistent to believe?
“I grow tired of waiting for Victor. He’s taking too long. We must think of a way to hurry him along. I might have to send him one of your fingers or something, even supposing he cares about you.”
The coolness with which Johnson spoke froze Jazz’s blood. And what of Victor? Did he care, or did he dissappear, glad to be safely away from this menace? No, she made herself stop thinking that. No, she had to hold on to hope or she would die. Die. Perhaps she should try that escape. She shook her emotional head, “No!” she screamed inwardly, “Stop! Stop! Stop!” Concentrating, she prayed, “Father, plese help Victor and me. We’re in a lot of trouble.”
While Jazz inwardly struggled with her thoughts, Johnson sat at the desk drinking and looking far away, but Jazz knew his mind was not blank. He was thinking about her. Those glassy vacant eyes were seeing them together in an appalling vision brought on by the Absinthe. Why didn’t he act on his visions now? She wondered.
“Sleep,” she heard the Voice speak again. By now she was more inclined to obey without the argument that she’d given that first night.
The next evening, Johnson sat in his study, staring out the window. His visions were driving him further into madness than he was already, seeing them in his conscious mind as well as his dreams. He needed Jazz to remain intact for just a little while longer. He wanted to be rid of Monroe, but now he was also impatient to act on his imaginations as well.
Calculating thought quickly presented a solution. Immediately, but coolly, Johnson acted on it. He dialed his phone, “Monroe, we need to meet. Let’s say, 7:30 tomorrow morning.” After the arrangements were made, and Johnson hung the phone up, he smiled. Monroe didn’t even ask the reason for the meeting. He dialed Victor’s cell phone.
“I’ve set up a time for Monroe to meet me at our rendezvous at 7:30 tomorrow. I expect you to be there. Your little lamb will be. You know what happens to lambs when the wolves are watching.” Johnson hung up the phone, picked up his bottle of Absinthe and went to her room. Tonight he would allow himself to stay with her only a few minutes, then he would go to his own bed in preparation for tomorrow. Tomorrow night would be the night he promised her. He closed his eyes.
Early in the morning Johnson dressed and then rang a bell. The man who’d brought Jazz to his house walked in, “Get the girl.”
Duncan glanced at his watch. It was 5 a.m. Jims’ door opened, and three men walked out. Wondering who the third guy was, Duncan watched as they walked past several houses to Victor’s Interceptor parked under the trees. As soon as Victor’s car left the parking spot, Duncan put the car in gear and followed at a distance.
“Someone seems to be following us,” Victor remarked to the two men in the car with him. “Do either of you recognize the car?”
“I don’t,” Jim said after glancing in the mirror on his side of the car, “but I can’t tell in this light.”
“What about you Buck? Look like anyone you know?”
“No, but I can’t tell either.”
“Jim, do you think it’s Duncan?”
“He drives a light colored car, but I don’t think that’s him. I think he’s still in the hospital.”
“I guess we can’t worry about it. If it is Duncan, having the police isn’t such a bad idea. I just hope your friend knows that we’re on the same side.”
Jim grimaced. He hoped so too.
Jazz was forced to sit tied and blindfolded in a car between two men. She shuddered as each man had a hand on her leg, wandering up and down. She knew their intentions, even if she didn’t know Johnson’s. Fortunately the trip didn’t last long, and soon she was made to get out and walk. She was cold and could feel icy mists on her face.
Walking blindfolded was difficult. She stumbled frequently in spite of each arm being held securely by the men on either side of her. They walked in silence.
Soon she was forced to sit on something cold and wet that felt like cement and quickly soaked her clothes. She was tied again. As she tried hopelessly to escape, one of the men chuckled just loud enough for her to hear, he patted her leg.
The time seemed to go slowly for Jazz, sitting in the cold, getting colder as nothing seemed to happen. It was terrible sitting there with that blindfold, not knowing if she sat out there alone, if someone would come up behind her and slit her throat, or put a bullet in her back. Her heart pounded in her ears as she strained to listen for a footstep, or feel the cold blade of a knife on her neck. Every nerve in her back prickled. She wondered if she’d feel a lot of pain dying from a gunshot.
She shook herself, trying to think of other things. Victor came to mind many times.
After securing Jazz, Johnson left one man to hide, watching her while he and others slipped into the trees; a few were with him. Not long after, Johnson and his men saw Monroe arrive with his men. Johnson snorted, but was pleased. It was predicable. Monroe thought to bring some men, but didn’t think to come sooner. Johnson looked at his watch. It was 7:20; the light was just beginning to penetrate the forest fog. He smiled. It seemed an appropriate place for Monroe’s demise. The cemetery was always good for death.
He whispered to the men with him. They slunk off into the trees. They’d take care of Monroe’s men, he’d take care of Monroe. Later he’d take care of Victor. Johnson tugged on his glove, tightening the fingers in the leather. A habit he’d picked up in his early days. How many times had he been glad of this little check?
He crept back to view the headstone on which Jazz sat. Patiently he waited for Monroe to appear.
At 6:45 Victor, Jim and Buck got out of the car and walked to the gravestone Johnson had indicated to Victor on the phone.
“It’s there,” Victor whispered and pointed, “let’s go back and watch the road. I want to see when Johnson arrives.”
Jim shivered, wishing he’d brought a heavier coat. The three men sat beneath the trees, not far from Victor’s car. Of the three, Victor was most at ease, doing the job he’d done for ninety percent of his adult life: watching, waiting and looking for the right time.
Diffused light began to shine through the clouds when Johnson arrived with Jazz.
Jim pointed with an agitated whisper, “There she is, let’s get her,” but Victor put his hand on Jim arm, Buck, his other arm.
“Not yet, Jim. We have to wait.”
“Why?”
“Because there are too many. They’re experienced, and they’re alert. You’re not experienced, and that’s not the way I do things. We have to take our time. It’s never a good idea to rush.”
“He’s right Pastor. What are we going to do next, Victor?”
Victor put his hand to his lips and indicated they should follow.
Duncan watched while Johnson and his men led Jazz down among the tombstones. He picked up his radio to order reinforcements and followed Johnson at a distance, realizing he must be the man that Victor had referred to. So there was a Phineas Johnson and he did have Jazz. This part of Victor’s story was true, but he was sure he couldn’t believe anything else.
He quietly followed Johnson and his men, knowing Victor, Jim and the third man were somewhere nearby in the trees.
At 7:30 Monroe was on the path, openly curious at the shivering girl. Johnson appeared,
When he saw Johnson and Monroe talking on the path, Victor quietly slipped from his companions. Carefully he made his way amongst the trees, and behind Jazz. He refrained from whispering to her. It was good to see her, but what had they done to her while she was a prisoner? He corrected himself. She was still a prisoner. He refocused on Johnson and Monroe, putting Jazz’s discomfort out of his mind.
“Well, for once I’m on time and you’re late, Johnson.” Monroe laughed. Gesturing toward the girl, he asked, “What’s up with this?”
“I hired a hit man to do a job for me, but he refused. Since he knows so much abut our operation, I thought we’d better get rid of him and dump them both in the river. This is his girlfriend.”
Monroe smiled. Johnson was always so clever. He’d let him do the job, then he’d have his gunman shoot Johnson from the trees. This would serve Monroe well. Yes, Johnson was clever, but it would be the last clever thing he did. Monroe reached his hand out to shake Johnson’s who grabbed his hand enthusiastically. Suddenly Monroe gasped, feeling the cold, sharp bite of a blade in his gut.
Johnson thrust the dagger he’d been holding so far up and into Monroe’s massive chest, just under the breastbone that he lost the blade, pulling his fingers out of the squelching mass. Monroe fell to the ground, just short of falling on Johnson. Just as Phineas had calculated, the blade thrust a hole in a lung, making it impossible for Monroe to cry out.
Victor could see the look of satisfaction on Johnson’s face. He watched the man reach down and wipe Monroe’s blood off his glove with the dead man’s shirt. Then Johnson sat beside Jazz. She struggled against her bonds and tried to put distance between her and the unknown man beside her, but he threw his arm around her shoulders and forced her closer to him.
“Victor,” Johnson called out loudly, ‘I have your little lamb. She’s cold, maybe I could warm her up.” He began to kiss her neck. Jazz struggled even harder to get away, but she was unable to escape.
Watching from their vantage point, Jim was startled when Monroe fell over. He turned to whisper to Victor, but found he was gone, “Buck, where’d Victor go?”
Buck shrugged his shoulders. By this time Johnson was pawing his captive and calling out to Victor. Victor had been watching, waiting for the opportunity to get Jazz away, but none had come. He expected Johnson to do something about Monroe and was not surprised when the large man fell over.
While Johnson was occupied with Jazz, Victor crept silently closer to the back of the tombstone. Slowly pulling his belt from his pants, and then winding one end and then the other around his black gloved hand, he quietly crept until he was just behind Johnson.
Suddenly, expertly, Victor had the belt around his adversary’s neck. Johnson’s hands instinctively began pulling it away from his windpipe, while Victor pulled in opposition. Immediately several things happened at once; Jim rushed to help Jazz, Buck rushed to stop Jim, and three shots rang out, startling everyone and wounding Victor in the shoulder. Jim and Buck were thrown to the ground from the impact of a bullet each. Victor lost his grip on Johnson, who whipped his pistol out and leveled it at Victor. He smiled a cruel smile, “I knew I could bait you. Monroe’s men met my men, and the advantage is all on my side. Well, well, Victor. Now you’re really in a jam.” Johnson smiled as he rubbed Jazz’s face and neck, “You know, it’s been a very long time. I’ve forgotten how enjoyable a woman can be; and when I’m done, I’ve promised my wolves that they can have her. There’ll be plenty of her left for them, but not much after they’ve finished.”
When the reinforcements arrived, Duncan had them search the grounds for Johnson’s men, and anyone else they might find. He warned them to be silent. Duncan had been following the scene before him. There was the miserable Monroe talking with Johnson, he could hear every word of their exchange. So Victor was telling the truth. What of it? He’s still an assassin and needed to be punished for his crimes. Duncan bit his lip. He could sense the Almighty’s presence, and almost before his still, small, but omnipotent voice spoke he knew there would be an argument.
“No, Lord. He’s a criminal. He has to pay for his crimes.”
“Has to?”
“He deserves to go to jail, at the very least.”
“Deserves?”
“Lord if you weren’t the Almighty I’d be angry at these one word arguments.”
“But I Am.”
What could Duncan say to that? He’d said it to Moses, Jesus had said it, and now God was repeating himself again. So how many times does humanity have to hear it?
“It’s wrong. I have to do my job.”
“So do your job.”
That was an answer Duncan didn’t expect. He shot a wordless question to the Voice, but before he could comprehend an answer, Monroe was falling to the ground. Duncan’s question left his mind without a returning answer. He saw Jim and Buck rush out, heard three shots and saw both Jim and Buck fall and then Victor take the hit. Johnson had his gun leveled at Victor; Duncan brought his weapon down, aimed at Johnson, and pulled the trigger. Instantly the man fell, landing on top of Monroe.
Watching from the trees Johnson’s bodyguard observed the scene below him. He’d waited for Monroe to fall, and then aimed his gun in the direction of his master, waiting for Victor to show up. He’d not expected Jim or Buck, but was a quick enough thinker to bing them both before wounding Victor as his boss had ordered. When he saw his boss fall from another gunshot, he didn’t waste time worrying about where this shot came from but jumped out of his tree and ran. A police officer saw him, fired off a shot at the big man and hit him in the chest. He was knocked back on the path dead.
Victor turned to help Jazz out of her ropes. By now she was freezing and shivering uncontrollably from fear as well as the cold. Victor gave her his coat and wrapped her in his arms. She was having trouble comprehending the miracle of her safety.
Jim sat up. He’d been hit in the shoulder. Applying pressure to stop the bleeding, he turned to Buck. Buck blinked up at him, smiled and whispered, “It’s okay Pastor. I understand now.” He was gone. Duncan came limping down from the trees, with his men.
“Jim, are you okay?” Victor asked, holding Jazz.
“Buck’s gone.” He stood up unsteadily, wiping the tears away. Seeing Duncan, he smiled a weak smile and held out his hand, “Great to see you. That limp gives your walk character.”
“Thanks a lot preacher.” Duncan replied with a grin, shaking his hand. “So here we all are. Isn’t this nice?”
“Hey Capt,” one of the officers yelled to Duncan, he had a wallet in his hand, “What was the name of that guy you’ve been following?”
“Kevin Frye.”
“I think we’ve found him, look.”
The officer handed Duncan the wallet, and Kevin Frye’s license.
Duncan looked at Jazz and Victor, his expression was difficult to read. “This looks like the guy I’ve been looking for. He’s been linked to several killings.”
Victor did not show the surprise he felt.
“We’ll have to take a statement from all three of you, but let’s get you to the hospital first. You could bleed to death if we don’t get that looked at. Afterwards maybe we can talk about the future.” Duncan said, handing the wallet back to the cop.
Victor laughed to himself. So God does work things out. Inwardly he shrugged to the Voice. It was the only job he knew. Maybe he needed to start working for the law, instead of against it.
“Who gives this woman away?” Pastor Jim asked with a smile.
“Her mother and I.” Mike repeated the words hundreds of fathers have echoed through the years. He gave Jazz’s hand to Victor and took his place beside his wife.