Like Sheep Gone Astray (17 page)

“My team will be joining us in a conference room down the hall.” Reginald was also obviously studying her. “As I told you before, my colleagues have already expressed awe at your work, Mrs. Murdock. I assure you that this meeting is nothing more than a platform from which you can further implement your design ideas.”

Terri walked with him down the hallway. Standing next to this visionary businessman, dressed in her best black suit, carrying her polished attach3e, she wondered if the incoming office workers could see how important she was. Like Reginald, she did little to acknowledge the passersby who stepped to the sides of the corridor for them.

“I am personally looking forward to your presence at tomorrow evening's function.”

Reginald's words caught her off guard. Terri tried to keep a question mark from forming on her face as she played along with this turn in the conversation. What function? she wondered.

“You should be proud of him.”

“Who?”

“Anthony. Your husband.” There was a flatness in his voice as he spoke these words.

“You know Anthony?” Terri could not hide her surprise. Anthony had never made any indication to her of knowing or meeting Reginald Savant. “How do you know him?”

“I see there's a lot he hasn't told you.” Reginald smiled at her curiously. “It's not good when a young man starts keeping secrets from his unsuspecting wife.”

“Oh, I'm sure he's just waiting for the right time to tell me whatever he has to share.” Terri suddenly felt unsure of something she couldn't quite put her finger on. She hadn't been seeing much of him lately. Was there something more she should know? Was he hiding more from her than information about his new financial status?

“You don't even know about the function, do you?”

“I have no idea what you are talking about,” Terri finally confessed with a grin.

“That's surprising. Even if Anthony didn't tell you about it, Fabian's Caterers is helping with the event. Isn't your best friend, Cherisse Landrick, employed by him?”

Terri paused before slowly easing into the cushioned seat offered by Reginald.

“Boy, you really do know a lot about my life.”

“As I told you at our first meeting, Mrs. Murdock, I do my research when I handpick my team members. I like to know as much as possible about everyone with whom I have intimate dealings and vested interest.”

Before any more could be said, the door to the conference room flew open and several well-dressed ebony businessmen filed into the room, clipboards, briefcases, pens in hand.

“Gentlemen, Mrs. Murdock, let's begin.”

Nagging questions were racing through Terri's mind by the completion of the meeting, despite its overwhelming success. The flood of praise and commendation offered by Reggie's team did little to lessen Terri's mounting doubts and fears. Was Anthony purposely not telling her everything she needed to know?

She'd merely guessed that he was about to share with her the story of their new multi-million-dollar status before she cut him off during the dinner at Romano's. What if he really had something else to say? She strained to remember his words from that evening as she crept through the slow-moving downtown traffic.

I really need not worry that something's wrong; Anthony is a preacher.
For once the thought comforted her. Preachers don't keep secrets, especially dirty ones, she told herself. Even still, she had not seen him at prayer meeting the night before, and he never mentioned that he had somewhere else to go. Anthony was a faithful attendee of the midweek service as far as she knew, considering she rarely attended herself. Where had he been? Even Pastor Green had seemed concerned, she remembered.

Thinking of the look on Pastor Green's face, she suddenly recalled the meeting Anthony said he had with the pastor that past Monday night. Had he really met with him? Terri thought of how anxious Anthony had looked when he'd left their fireside celebration that night. She'd been asleep when he returned and then he'd left for work in the morning before she could question him. What was Anthony up to? Was he hiding something?
Or someone?

These were Terri's thoughts as she waited for Joe to call her number at the crowded deli counter. After paying for two turkey club sandwiches, she switched off her cell phone, not wanting to chance a call from him at the moment. The drive to Haberstick Associates was a short one, and the surprise element was crucial to her quickly devised plot.

She did not even park the car. The moment she pulled into the dingy parking lot, she noticed a battered blue Dodge Shadow in Anthony's assigned spot. That was not his car. He was not there. Her instincts told her he had not been there all day. What was Anthony up to? What was he not telling her and why? The questions scared her. But she was determined to get the answers. Anthony managed to pull himself out of bed for good at eleven. Not usually a late sleeper, he'd delayed getting up until after Terri left for work, still unsure how to face her with his ongoing and unfolding drama. After failing to reach Aunt Rosa at the senior home in South Carolina, he'd gotten back in bed, wanting to ignore the rest of the day.

It was the phone ringing that woke him the second time. Groggy from oversleeping, he missed the call, noting the BLOCKED message on the caller ID box. He'd check for a message later.

For now, he planned to visit the Porters. Reverend Bernard seemed anxious to talk to him. Maybe he held a missing piece to the puzzle of how this Stonymill deal that started six months earlier had come back to haunt him even more. Anthony could not imagine how his long-dead biological father was related to his current circumstances, but he hoped Bernard could offer more insight into dealing with the faceless people who were involved in the unending nightmare.

At twelve-thirty he was standing on the front porch of the Porters' small ranch home, waiting for someone to answer his knock. A minivan pulled into the driveway next to the Porters'. Anthony watched with a smile as a couple of redheaded and freckled preschoolers spilled out, followed by a young woman also with curly red hair. She held an infant in one arm, a grocery bag in the other. She greeted him with a tired but courteous smile before disappearing into her home.

Anthony knocked again on the Porters' door, louder, harder. Still no response. Disappointed, he turned to leave. As he unlocked his car door, the neighbor's door flew open.

“Are you looking for the Porters?” The young mother offered another smile, but concern sounded in her voice.

“Yes. Is everything okay?” Anthony feared the answer.

“I'm not sure.” The woman's attention was diverted back into her house for a second before she continued. “An ambulance was here around three this morning. I think they took the reverend to the ER. I'm not really sure what's going on, but I haven't seen either him or Mrs. Porter today. They usually sit out on their porch after lunch. I hope everything's all right.”

“Thanks for the information. I hope everything's all right too.”

The woman disappeared back into her home, leaving Anthony standing alone on the quiet cul-de-sac, not sure what to do next.

Terri blew her nose softly, hoping that no one passing by her office could hear the phone conversation she was having with Cherisse.

“Look, Terri”—Cherisse's voice was soothing over the receiver—“you need to pull yourself together and calm down. I haven't heard you this upset since you thought Marlene Gibbons beat you out for homecoming queen. Remember, junior year, college?”

Terri had to smile at the memory. She remembered how silly she'd felt taking the winning platform to accept her crown and the bouquet of roses with eyes puffy and red from crying. The announcer had mistaken her tears as a sign of joy and had not known what they really were: tears of relief. She had been wrong then; maybe she was wrong now.

“You're stronger than this, girl,” Cherisse continued. “I'm sure you're making something out of nothing. Anthony may or may not be telling you everything, but that doesn't mean he's hiding anything. Remember, we're talking about Anthony, Mr. Goody-two-shoes, the preacher.”

“I know.” Terri sighed. “But I can't figure out why Reggie Savant seems to know more about what's going on with my husband these days than I do.”

“This Reggie character is creeping me out. You said he knows who I am?”

“He knows that you work for Fabian's and that your company is catering whatever function is happening tomorrow night—the function Anthony hasn't told me about.”

“That's odd,” Cherisse mumbled. “Mr. Fabian must have assigned someone else to oversee that account. I usually know about these things. Unless …”

“What is it?” Terri demanded.

“Does Mr. Savant drive a black Jaguar?”

“Yes, he does. Why?”

“Then that's who's been coming back and forth to see Mr. Fabian this week. I should have recognized his voice from that time I saw him talking to you at the Westcott Room on Tuesday. He is involved in some event Fabian is catering. I get the impression it's a rush job—an expensive, elaborate rush job.”

“That still doesn't explain how he knows Anthony.”

“If that's really him, then he was one of the two men talking Tuesday about Anthony getting millions. I have no idea who the other man was. Whoever it was sounded young and polished.”

There was a long pause broken only by a few sniffles from Terri and the new quartz clock on her desk striking one
P.M.

“Something isn't right,” Cherisse finally conceded.

A new rush of tears burst from Terri. “Cherisse, what do I do?”

“First things first.” Cherisse's “about-business” tone was back. “I'm going to get us tickets to whatever is going on tomorrow night. I work for Fabian and you're the wife of an attendee. There's no reason for us not to be there. Pull yourself together, girl. Whatever Anthony's hiding, whatever game he's playing, we'll find out. I'm not going to let some man toy with my best friend.”

“Thank you.” Terri sounded stronger already. “Call me back when you have some details.”

The intensive-care waiting room at Good Shepherd General Hospital was quiet. Anthony sat next to Sister Porter, her hair pulled back in a hurried, gray-streaked bun. Both were silent and staring at a massive aqua-blue aquarium that stretched across one side of the small room. Several fish of different sizes and brilliant colors swam back and forth against the quiet hum of the filtration system.

“Pastor Green should be here soon.” Anthony barely recognized his own voice. He kept his eyes on a small blue-and-yellow fish that seemed trapped in an elaborate castle in a corner of the tank.

“They're taking him off the life support at two o'clock. Bernard always made it clear to me that he would not want to stay in a vegetative state.” Sister Porter glanced at Anthony, the look on her face seeming to plead for permission and understanding.

“They”—she pointed to the nurses' station—“are saying there's no brain activity at all. He's only alive right now because of those machines. The stroke that he had last night came when his body was the most vulnerable. He was already weak from all those years of cancer.”

“When Pastor Green arrives, we'll pray again. Jesus said that when two or three are gathered in His name, they can…He will …” Anthony choked against the words in his throat. Sister Porter raised a gentle hand to silence him.

“I was just telling Terri on Sunday that Bernard would be out of his sickbed soon.” A tear dripped off her chin as a distant smile formed around her words. “Our God answers prayer, Brother Anthony; not always in the way we think or expect, but always in the way that is best.” Tears were pooling atop a black leather handbag resting in her lap.

“Lord knows my Bernard was tired. He needs his rest. I only want him to be whole again. And he will. Today. He'll be resting wholly in the arms of Jesus, the wonderful, perfect Good Shepherd.” She nodded at a mural of the hospital's name painted across the adjacent wall.

At 2:07, Sister Porter, Anthony, and Pastor Green surrounded the bed of Minister Porter. The machines were off, the tubes were gone, the room was quiet. Anthony watched Bernard's chest rise and fall a few times before slowly coming to a stop.

“I love you and I'll see you again, sweetheart. Enjoy your rest.” Sister Porter planted a soft kiss on her husband's forehead, smiling even as tears streamed down her face.

As Anthony watched the deathbed scene unfold in front of him, he couldn't ignore the frustration creeping alongside his grief. What information was Bernard taking with him as he left to meet his Maker?

Nikki Galloway spoke politely into the receiver, but her face gave a different story.

“Thanks again for letting me know. Have a nice trip.” She slammed down the phone before muttering to herself, “I hate that woman.”

“Is everything okay?” Eric Johnson looked up from an old computer, which he was using to create address labels. It was nearly three o'clock and much work still remained to be done. Eric had spent most of the day following up behind Nikki's unfinished tasks. She was slowing him down greatly, but he reasoned it was only because it was her first days on the job. She would catch on soon. Hopefully.

“I'm sorry.” Nikki wiped the scowl from her face. “It's my son's day-care provider. She's taking off again for another emergency, this time for a couple of weeks.”

“I don't mean to get in your business, but it seems like you have a lot of issues with this woman. Are you looking for another day care?”

“Oh, it's really okay.” Nikki quickly smiled. “Devin will be four in January so he'll be able to start pre-K. I can wait.”

She rolled her eyes as she turned back to the papers she was filing. The truth was Nikki had never liked Ms. Mona or her stupid day care. The lady was too nitpicky and particular and had too many rules to follow, like she was scared the world would fall apart if a parent picked up their child an hour late. Nikki had never wanted to put Devin under her care in the first place, but
that man
had said it was necessary to keep things running smoothly.

“There is no other option,” he would tell Nikki every morning that he was there, his hands stroking her slender legs. “Devin being at Mona's keeps us with a foot in the door. If you were to move him now, our duties would get more difficult.”