Like Sheep Gone Astray (43 page)

“Walter was so nervous about Rosa recognizing who he was, but she never did. She only met him once briefly down in Sharen, as did Bernard, and that was almost thirty years ago. Walter looked a lot different back then.”

“He most certainly did,” Kellye Porter agreed, looking down at the worn photo clutched in her hands. Three men, all in colorful dashikis and super-sized afros, filled the four-by-six frame: Bernard, Kofi, and Wanjala, whose face was covered with thick, untrimmed hair.

“Sweet Bernard, he never made the connection until he tried to look for some insurance information he needed at that old warehouse on Perkins Street, Walter's other headquarters.” Mabel had let go of Denise, though an arm was still wrapped around her shoulders as they continued to push through the crowd. “I don't know what he found there, but I think I told him more than what he knew when I spoke to him last week.” More tears trickled down her cheeks. “It was the last time we talked.”

“Walter's other headquarters? What are you talking about?” Reggie was confused, but nobody responded because they had finally made it to the front of the police station. Several guards stood around the entrance and the clamor of reporters kept all of them from maintaining their balances.

“We have an emergency and need help right away.” This time Reggie's words caught everyone's attention.

“Sir, I'll have someone help you when we can.” A stern-faced walnut-colored officer holding a shield talked over Reggie's head after looking him up and down from his post on the steps. “A lot is happening right now with this alleged police misconduct case.” This he said as officers pushed back squawking reporters and fist-waving demonstrators.

“The victim's wife has been kidnapped.”

All six of them were immediately escorted to the man running things at the moment, Detective Kent Cassell.

Chapter 19

B
etween the hormones swirling in her system and the three hours of nonstop bucking courtesy of Nikki Galloway, Terri was ready to vomit. She had given up on waiting for the car to stop at a reasonable place to get out, choosing to take her chances of escaping once they got to wherever they were going. Terri figured the repeated circling around Shepherd Hills would have to come to an end at some point, and Nikki was a small girl. Injury by moving limo seemed like a more damaging alternative than injury by swinging string bean. Terri was not afraid; she was annoyed more than anything.

The landscape of trees whizzing by did nothing to soothe her rocking stomach. She did not know where she was, and at the moment she felt so sick she was not sure that she cared. She just wanted to go home, return to a normal life. Yes, even a Sunday morning service at Second Baptist with Anthony at the pulpit seemed tolerable to her now. She wondered if that life would ever return.

“I'm going to throw up,” she whispered, doubled over in the expansive backseat.

“Shut up! We're almost there!”

“So what was the deal between you and my father?” Anthony stared Walter square in the eye. “What kind of game have you been playing with me, Walter?”

He did not know what it was or where it came from, but he felt it, a sudden whack on his head in the same spot Sheriff Malloy had already pre-tenderized. Anthony buckled under the pain, falling to the hardwood floor under the force. He nursed his wound even as he searched for something he could use to defend himself. But there was little he could do. Walter stood over him, a gun gleaming.

“Don't you dare talk to me like that.” There was something in Walter's eyes Anthony had never seen before. Hate. A sudden kick in the center of his forehead took Anthony by surprise. Wasn't it enough that the man had a gun pointed at him? Anthony was shaken but struggled to stand, his movements slow and painful under the watchful barrel of the gun. Walter kicked him back down to the floor.

“So you're going to beat a man who's already down. That's not much of a fair fight.” Anthony had steel in his eyes.

“Don't talk to me about fair. I can tell you what's not fair. I came up with that plan down in Sharen. I wrote your father's speeches, built up his campaign. I had those people trusting him, hailing him as a hometown hero. He was working for me. That was
my
money. He was only supposed to get twenty-five percent. But then he disappears, and what am I left with? Nothing.”

The gun became animated in Walter's hand as he spoke. Anthony swallowed hard, thought hard. He was not going down like this. He eased back to his feet, his eyes on the black metal before him. Anthony backed up little by little until his back bumped into an end table. The councilman followed him with every step. He had to keep Walter talking as he tried to figure out how to get out of there alive.

“So you found him and killed him?” The words sounded unreal coming out of his mouth. This was Walter he was talking to, his mentor, his friend.

“No.” Walter shook his head and glanced down at the gun.

Is that nervousness in his eyes? Hesitation?
Anthony wondered, trying to make sense of the look on Walter's face.

“I spent two years and three weeks looking for that man and then I found him just in time to watch him kill himself down in the rail yard of AGS. It took me another fifteen years to figure out what he did with my money. That's seventeen years I spent broke, dirt poor, without the money I planned so perfectly to get. Hundreds of thousands, you hear me? Do you know what that's like? To know you have a windfall out there but you're still living like a pauper? To know chat your financial success was stolen by a quote-unquote partner who disappears like water in air?” The gun became steadier in his hands. Anger seemed to be replacing the nerves.

“I am not responsible for my father's actions.” Anthony kept his eyes centered on Walter's, determined to stand tall and strong like Samson did as he pushed the pillars on the Philistines.
Samson went down with the enemy
. Anthony turned his focus off of the fear that was trying to inch back into him. If Walter was the last person he saw in life, Jesus would be the first person he saw in death. He was convinced, holding on to that thought for courage.

“You're right, Anthony. I never said you were responsible.” Walter gave in to a slight smile. “1 just thought it
unfair
, as you would call it, that I spent years of my life struggling because of your father and he just slides away into eternity. After all I went through, it only seemed
fair
to me that somebody should pay.”

Walter took a step closer to Anthony as he spoke. “When I found out he had a family that he walked out on, I befriended your mother and stepfather in the hopes that one of them would come across the money. When they died, my last hope was that maybe when you turned eighteen or twenty-one, some large trust fund would appear in your name somewhere and I would be able to stake my claim. When that didn't happen I did my own research, and I found accounts your father opened at a whole bunch of different banks. The money meant nothing to him because he was dead, nothing to you because you did not know about it. And because it had sat so long in interest-bearing accounts, it had nearly quadrupled in value. I'm talking millions.”

“The money wasn't enough? You got what you wanted, so why did you have to make my life miserable?” Anthony crossed his hands behind his back. His fingertips quietly brushed the end table behind him for something, anything, he could use against a nine-millimeter. He stopped at what felt like a toothpick. Hey, if little David could take out the giant Goliath with a small pebble from a pond, anything was possible.

“I could not just let you go because you were about to make me lose my money.” The anger was boiling into controlled rage.

“What are you talking about?” Anthony pinched the toothpick between his thumb and forefinger. This was ridiculous. What was he going to do with a toothpick? He was not MacGyver. He let it drop.

Walter was responding. “I invested all of the money I found in Toringhouse Steel, AGS Railroad, and virtually everything else steel-related in this part of the state. When Toringhouse went bankrupt, I was not too bothered because AGS was planning the Stonymill station, and that promised to be a success. But when I heard that you were considering using your business strength to support CASH's efforts against the Stonymill light rail station six months ago, I knew I had to keep you from getting involved.”

“I was just one man working at one marketing firm. How was my taking up Bethany Village going to make or break you?”

“You have never realized the power of your influence, Anthony. In the years that I've known you, it seems like everything you touch turns to gold. I could not let you get involved with CASH because then Stonymill would never have taken off, and what was left of my investments would have dwindled away to nothing. I'm sure of it!”

Anthony was taken aback at the councilman's assertion. Walter seemed more certain about Anthony's authority and power in the Kingdom of God than he was himself.

Didn't I say I'd make you the head and not the tail? Didn't I say that the man who delights in My law, everything he does shall prosper?
All these years he had been focused on his own agenda for success, and all he had to do was recognize the promises of God, His favor, at work in his life. Anthony's heart rang with praise to the Faithful One even as his eyes stared down the barrel of a handgun.
I'll either be saying Hallelujah to You face-to-face in a moment, Lord, or You better believe I'll be shouting down the aisles at church on Sunday morning,
Anthony thought to himself.

“Something funny, Mr. Murdock?”

Anthony did not realize he was smiling. Walter's finger tightened around the trigger; obviously he was peeved that Anthony found a reason to look happy even with death staring him in the face. Anthony knew he had to step more carefully. No need to rush up the rungs of heaven's ladder. Keep the man talking.

“Stonymill was six months ago. You dangled your money and I went for it. You won. Why all this new business with the check and the BEA? Couldn't you just leave well enough alone?”

“Once Stonymill was taken care of, I knew that I had to take care of you for good. That had been too much of a close call. I was not going to take a chance and let another Murdock have a free stab at my money.”

Anthony could see the hesitation in Walter's fingers as he kept the gun pointed at him. He kept the questions coming. “So you expected me to fall for the money? That's the only way your plans would have worked.”

“You are your father's son. I recognized that money-hungry gene in you a long time ago. With the right bait, you were an easy hook. I only wanted to get you behind bars and away from my money. When I found out about Reginald Savant's wishes to have the BEA, I knew that I could take his generosity and use it against you.

“Reginald thought I had talked you into willingly leading the organization, and that the money was for pure philanthropic purposes. He knew nothing about the bribes. He gave me the money to give to you, wanting to take no credit for jump-starting black businesses in this community. He simply never realized how perfect his plans and timing fit into mine.”

“I give you credit, Mr. Banks. You planned everything well.” Anthony wondered if Walter wanted praise and recognition for his craftiness.

“Everything was coming together perfectly.” Walter began to sound bitter. “Even when Sheriff Malloy started sniffing around my finances, all I had to do was flash him some green and he promised to follow through with getting you locked up for everything. Like your father, I expected your conscience to catch up with you. I expected that you would turn yourself in at some point, then Malloy was going to throw the book at you. I don't know what came over him today. Him and that darn Gloria. I never expected her to dig up so much stuff, but she's not a factor anymore.”

“What's that supposed to mean?” Anthony gaped.
Had Walter done something to Gloria?

Reflective for a moment, Walter rested the gun on his thigh.

“It was never supposed to come to this, but I don't know what else to do.” Walter slowly raised the gun again. This time both hands fingered the trigger.

“Walter, look—” Anthony was trapped, the end table behind him, Walter before him.

“Please, Anthony, don't make this any harder than it has to be. And don't worry about Terri. I've already made sure that she'll be taken good care of by Reginald Savant.”

Terri and the baby!
There was no way Anthony was going to bow down to death. He was not finished doing the work God had called him to do.
Jesus!
he silently prayed, asking for supernatural strength, or at least divine intervention.

A squirrel scurried outside the front door, causing Walter to look away for one quick second. Anthony took that second to bear all of his strength into Walter's side, grabbing his wrists, reaching for the gun. They wrestled together in sweat and groans until both had landed on the floor, sending a ceramic lamp crashing with them and the room into darkness. Anthony's hands were wrapped around the barrel, but Walter still had control of the trigger. They wrestled some more, the noise of the fight echoing loudly in the isolated space.

There was a quick pause when both simultaneously caught their breath. During that brief moment of inactivity, both of them noticed a loud scuffle on the front porch. A sudden screech and a pounding bang vibrated on the floorboards.

What kind of squirrel was that? Walter aimed at the heavy oak door that was suddenly swinging open. Anthony's eyes widened with the realization that he and Walter were not the only two engaged in hand-to-hand combat. A flurry of arms and legs, fists and slaps rolled through the opening door.

“What the—” Walter pulled the trigger. A loud crash, part gunfire, part breaking wood, reverberated throughout the cabin. Blond hair tracks flew in as a bullet smoked out.

Before any sense could be made, Anthony scrambled to the doorway.

“Terri! Oh God no!”

They were sitting in an empty conference room at the police headquarters, all of them. Cherisse and Reggie sat next to each other; Cherisse with her head bowed, Reggie with his tie loosened, staring blankly at a newspaper. Denise and Mabel were locked arm-in-arm at the oval table. Kellye stood at a window, staring straight ahead. A stoic gaze replaced the tears in her eyes. Gloria crunched loudly on a small bag of cheese curls Mona had offered her from a vending machine. Outside, chants and shouts filled the street below the headquarters. Despite the occasional shatter or threat, the police had control of the crowd.