Like Sheep Gone Astray (18 page)

“Are you sure everything's all right?” Eric had an eyebrow raised at Nikki, who suddenly realized she'd been standing there mimicking
that man's
gestures, mouthing his words.

“Oops.” She giggled. “I was thinking about somebody.” She composed herself again. “I'm running out of file space. Didn't you say there might be some empty file cabinets in another part of this building?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah.” Eric adjusted his reading glasses, straining to make out an illegible address on a sign-up sheet from his presentation at Second Baptist Church the night before. “This old building has a lot of office space that hasn't been used in a while. Why don't you check some of the rooms on the sixth floor? I don't think anyone's using that space. If you see some empty file cabinets, let me know and I'll work on getting them down here tomorrow.”

Nikki relaxed at the opportunity to get out of the small office of CASH, but cringed when the elevator door opened to the sixth floor. Instead of being sectioned off into office suites, the entire floor lay as an open space. The massive room was in disarray, with furniture, boxes, and paper scattered everywhere. It looked as if it had been abandoned in a hurry years ago. Thick layers of dust and cobwebs covered everything. Nikki spotted some file cabinets in a far corner and carefully stepped over some fallen bookcases and stacked boxes to reach them.

“I hate this job,” she muttered to herself as she rolled out a heavy cabinet drawer. It was not empty, she quickly discovered, and began thumbing through the jam-packed files.

“Hmmm, what's this?” A name printed on a folder sounded like one she'd heard before. As she pulled out the file a yellowed newspaper clipping fell out and drifted to the ground. The article featured a picture of a serious-looking man with a large afro and a colorful dashiki. Something about his facial features looked familiar to Nikki. She wanted to pick it up and read the caption, but at that moment something else caught her attention.

“Aaaeee!”

After several minutes of desperate scrambling, flying papers, and ear-piercing screams, Eric Johnson appeared.

“Nikki, are you all right?”

“A rat! I just saw a rat!” She was crying and wheezing from the middle of a pile of broken chairs.

“Whew! I didn't realize this floor was so bad. Sorry I sent you up here by yourself. Here, let me help you up.” He continued talking as he helped Nikki to the elevator.

“You know this building used to be a major warehouse back when all these old factories around here were actually up and running. Some of the tracks they used for that Stonymill project were part of the old railroad system that came to this part of town.” Eric shook his head as the elevator doors closed.

“This building is as dirty as it is old. You don't know what you may find in here.”

The crisper in the refrigerator was full of fresh vegetables: spinach, romaine, mushrooms, and green onions. Terri remembered a recipe for salad dressing she wanted to try and began looking for sugar, vinegar, dry mustard, strawberries, and mandarin oranges. She moved noisily about the gourmet kitchen, switching on the blender to make a frozen drink, turning the faucet on full strength to rinse her salad ingredients. She enjoyed the noise and the growing clutter, as it was keeping her mind off of more grating thoughts.

It was nearly seven-thirty, and she was still waiting to hear back from Cherisse. Growing impatient, she threw the torn spinach back into the sink and picked up the phone to call her. She found a message waiting instead.

“Hi, Anthony. Calling to remind you to wear your best tux tomorrow evening. I'm sure you'll look like a million bucks.” There was a giggle and then a loud gum-popping sound. “Oops.” The caller quickly hung up.

Terri mumbled some select words as she erased the message. She wanted to catch Anthony in a lie. If he truly had nothing to hide, he would tell her why he hadn't been at work today. And what was going on the next evening that she wasn't privy to.

She was chopping strawberries when the phone finally rang.

“I got the tickets.” Cherisse sounded out of breath.

“Do you know what's going on?”

“It's some type of big-wig banquet to celebrate the beginning of a new elitist organization called—wait a minute, I wrote it down…”

Terri heard some papers shuffling before Cherisse continued.

“It's called the Black Entrepreneurs Alliance. Everybody who's somebody in Shepherd Hills is going to be there.”

“Did you have any problems getting tickets?” Terri grew more puzzled.

“No, I didn't. I was right about this being scheduled at the last minute. Mr. Fabian is so stressed he gave me a ticket to come in case he needs my help. When I asked for an extra one, he didn't even question why. It was a mad house at work today. I probably could have gotten more information than I did, but I get the impression that even Fabian's not quite sure what's going on. I think he's only doing it because he was offered a ridiculous amount of money. Or so I heard.”

“What time does it start?”

“At seven. And it's at the Diamond Mount.”

“The Diamond Mount?”

“You know, the old steelworkers' lodge on Twenty-third Street that was turned into an upscale banquet hall.”

“Oh yeah. I think one of my partners designed that project.”

“We can meet at my house at six-thirty and go together.”

“Sounds good.”

“Oh, and Terri, make sure you wear all black. The theme to tomorrow night's occasion is Business in the Black and they want everyone to reflect that.”

They finished their conversation with exact details of logistics and what each would wear. As Terri hung up the phone she heard keys rattle in the front door and turned to face Anthony, who stood on the opposite side of the granite breakfast bar.

“Hello, Anthony. What have you been up to?” Terri spoke coldly, not missing the flash of uncertainty that surfaced in his eyes before he dropped his gaze to the floor.

Anthony was quiet for a moment before he answered. “Minister Porter passed today. I'll be in my study.”

With that Anthony disappeared, leaving Terri to absorb his words slowly. She collapsed in a stool by the breakfast bar and was still sitting there when the phone's ringing broke the silence a few hours later.

Kent Cassell decided to give one last look through the house and adjoining day-care center before heading to Mona's packed Volvo wagon, where she was waiting. He hated leaving at night, especially on such short notice; but Mona had immediately jumped at planning the trip to Martha's Vineyard the moment he called her that morning to tell her he'd taken the next two weeks off. She'd made reservations for the night at a quaint bed-and-breakfast a few hours' drive away in a small town off I-95. The manager agreed to let them check in by midnight. The Cassells would be taking a long, scenic route to Massachusetts with several stops along the way, including other B&Bs and tourist attractions.

Kent was not comfortable leaving in the middle of an open case, but the look of peace and relief in Mona's eyes, and the assurance by Sheriff Malloy that he would be contacted if absolutely necessary, helped quiet the nagging uneasiness that had been haunting him since the hit-and-run accident earlier that morning.

He walked through the house first, double-checking the new bolts that had been placed on the doors and windows since the last break-in. As he stepped into the adjacent home office he shared with Mona that connected the day-care center to the house, he noticed several of his own business cards scattered on the floor.

“I must have missed these when I helped Mona close the center today.” Kent stacked them neatly on his desk and straightened up a pile of scribbled artwork before turning on the alarm.

As he stepped into the car and fastened his seat belt a thought crossed his mind:
Those cards weren't on the floor earlier and Mona never leaves those kids' artwork in a mess like that. Has someone else been in the office this evening?

“Kent, darling, we're going on vacation. Leave it all behind, please.” Mona rubbed the furrow forming on his forehead. He looked into his wife's clear green eyes and ran his fingers through her smooth silver-black hair. She was so pretty.

“Everything's fine, honey. I was just trying to remember when's the last time I've seen you so happy and relaxed.” He started the ignition and backed out of the driveway. There was an explanation for everything, he reasoned. It was a brisk, fall evening. An open window could have been the culprit for the disorder in the office.

By the time Kent veered onto the ramp to get on I-95, he was absorbed in one of Mona's hilarious stories about her day-care children. The sound of her laughter in the rushing wind was music in his ears.

Anthony heard the phone ringing and almost did not want to pick it up. Sitting in his study surrounded by Bibles and old business correspondences, he simply stared at the rattling telephone, only guessing at who would be calling at that hour. With all that had been going on lately—the money, the confusion, the unanswered questions, and now Minister Porter's death—he was not in a mood to talk to anyone. Not even Terri. Especially Terri. Even thinking about the baby did little to cheer him. How could he happily welcome a son into a world of chaos he'd helped to create? Things would change for the better soon, he convinced himself. With God's help, things would change.

But the phone was still ringing and Terri was not picking it up either. With a groan, he reached for the receiver.

“Minister Anthony?”

Anthony blew a sigh of relief when he recognized the voice.

“Sister Porter, is everything okay?”

“Oh, yes, considering.” Even in her grief, Kellye Porter still sounded peaceful and cheery. “I'm sorry to call so late, but in all that's happened today, I forgot to give you something.”

“Sister Porter, you don't have to—”

“No, listen. This is important. I want to honor one of my husband's last wishes. Last night, before he slipped into the coma, Bernard made me promise to give you a bo—” Crashing dishes cut her off.

“Sister Porter, are you all right?” Anthony leaned forward in his seat.

“Whew, I'm not used to being in this old attic. I think it's been years since I've been up here. This is Bernard's trash and treasures. I keep mine in the basement. That's what Bernard called everything up here, trash and treasures. I can't imagine what he has up here that he wanted me to give to you, but he said I'd find it. A green shoe box on one of these shelves. If only I could reach—”

Another crash echoed through the phone line. This time it sounded like collapsing metal.

“I'm okay,” Sister Porter piped with a heavy grunt. “Just got to keep my balance. Bernard always teased me for my clumsiness. I remember once when I was cleaning out the pantry…”

Anthony lost track of her words as he held his breath, his mind racing, his heart pounding.

“Sister Porter”—he suddenly cut in—“don't you spend another minute in that attic.” He tried his best to sound light. “You've had an unbelievably trying day. I'll come over and get the box first thing tomorrow morning.”

“I know it's late, honey, but I feel like I need to get this to you tonight. Bernard looked so disturbed when he was telling me about it. I want you to take it so he can rest in peace. He was…I am…Please…My, Jesus …” For the first time that day, Kellye Porter burst into loud sobs.

“It's okay. I'm on my way now.”

As Anthony grabbed his coat and car keys, he barely noticed Terri still sitting at the breakfast bar.

“Going somewhere?” she asked coldly.

“Terri!” Anthony felt dazed. “I have to—I mean…Look, I can't explain right now. I've got to go. Don't wait up.” The door shut behind him.

“Don't wait up!” she yelled at the closed door. “I'm going with you.” She waited for his car to reach the end of the driveway before she headed for the garage.

“You haven't even noticed my new Lexus, Mr. Mur-dock. I don't know where your mind is, but I'm about to find out.”

Under the shadow of the moonlit sky, the shiny red Lexus followed behind Anthony like a snake slithering through the darkness.

Chapter 8

I
t was nearly midnight when the Cassells reached their destination for the night, a quaint bed-and-breakfast that overlooked the Atlantic Ocean. Mona was excitedly putting their clothes away, talking the entire time about what they would do for the next two weeks.

Kent sat listening in an oversized wing chair facing the fireplace in the cozy suite. He rubbed his bad knee, which had been reaggravated in the morning's accident. The manager had been kind enough to leave a box of herbal tea, a small microwave, and two homemade turkey sandwiches. As Kent slowly took in the food and warmth before him, he realized how tired he was, how drained the events of the past few months, weeks—that day—had made him.

“Mona.” He smiled as she stopped speaking long enough to fluff some king-sized pillows. “Thanks for getting me out of Shepherd Hills. I didn't realize how much I needed a vacation.”

She returned his smile and came behind him, massaging his thick shoulders. “I love you, darling. I'm glad for once that you listened to me. We both needed a break. I'm not going to think about what's waiting for me at home, and neither should you. Now, turn off that cell phone.” She wagged her finger as if to scold him, but her voice was soft and smiling.

“I'm a step ahead of you.” Kent playfully pulled a lock of her hair. “I turned it off back home and left it in that bag you were packing at your desk.”

“Well, I just finished unpacking everything and I did not come across your phone.”

Kent shrugged. “Maybe I left it home.”

“That would be even better than turning it off.” Mona slipped on her nightgown, preparing for a restful night of sleep.

“Yeah, that would be good.” Kent said the words even as a feeling of uncertainty resurfaced. He was sure he had placed that phone in an open bag Mona was packing after the last child had been picked up from the day care. He remembered how disheveled the desk had looked when he'd walked through the house right before leaving. He had attributed the mess to wind from an open window, but was it possible that his first suspicion was right? Had someone else been in the office that evening—and taken his phone?