Relentless (12 page)

Maxwell surveyed the row of brick buildings as he parked in front of one. He pulled his sleeve up to see his watch. It wasn't quite four o'clock yet. Garrett was usually early. Maxwell leaned his head against the headrest and closed his eyes. His body was weary as his thoughts continued running a marathon in his mind. What was the next move? Had he missed anything in drafting the documents that would be the cornerstone of his case against the bishop? Was there someone else he should talk with who he didn't yet know about? His thoughts began overtaking him. He couldn't become overwhelmed and overlook key details. Not a single fact could be dropped on this case. Every drop of information had to be recorded. Maxwell took both hands and pulled them slowly down his face, tossing out the concern that plagued him.

The sound of a car door slamming behind Maxwell drew his gaze toward the rearview mirror. He got out of his car and walked toward Garrett while loosening his tie slightly.

“Glad you could meet me on such short notice,” Garrett said.

“This is too important not to make myself available. You say the word day or night, and I'm there,” Maxwell affirmed. “So, what do you have for me?”

Garrett stepped onto the curb. “Remember those dilapidated buildings you found out Bishop Jones and Chambers were so concerned about? Well, here they are.” Garrett pointed at a row of buildings. “That multilevel one, the second one from the corner is going to be a low-income housing unit.” Garrett stretched out his arm and pointed his index finger at the building garnering Maxwell's attention. “The other brick building on the corner is earmarked as a safe haven for children on the street.”

“That's all good, but there has to be something strange going on here,” Maxwell commented.

“What do you mean?” Garrett asked.

“I can see one or two buildings but the whole block? Look at the buildings in this area, not a decent one in the bunch. Jones will have to throw a boatload of cash at this to get these buildings renovated.”

“Funny you should say that. Word on the street is that he is totally committed to this project. Apparently, he wants to restore the community around his church. Maybe his intentions aren't all bad,” Garrett suggested pushing his hands down into his pants pockets.

“You can't be serious. The only thing Jones is sincerely concerned with is how quickly he can get his mega ministry vision completed, and how deep he can line his pockets in the process.”

“Whatever the driving force is for him, he's pressing his way forward. He's doing whatever it takes to make it happen. He's already filed the necessary paperwork with the city to classify the units as low-income housing and a safe haven for troubled youth on the street. Both are key buzzwords for this community. He's bound to get funding and get this project off the ground. Of course, the zoning for both has to be approved. Somehow, I doubt that will present a problem for the bishop,” Garrett told Maxwell staring at the properties again.

“He definitely knows somebody, and I doubt if it's God.” Maxwell walked across the street with Garrett following. He walked up the front steps of the building that would be the low-income housing unit. He turned the doorknob and pushed, but the locked door wouldn't allow him entrance. Maxwell yanked the tie from around his neck. He unbuttoned the top of his shirt and turned to Garrett. “I refuse to believe there is any goodwill or genuine civic duty driving this project. I need you to dig deeper. There has got to be deeper reason for his trumped-up interest in this housing concept and a safe haven or safe house, whatever it is he wants to call it. I want to know what that reason is. I want to know everything about Bishop Ellis Jones.” Maxwell pressed two fingers together, keeping them just a fraction of an inch apart. “As a matter of fact, I want you to be so explicit with the details surrounding Jones that you can tell me what he had for breakfast yesterday and the last words he said to his wife before they went to bed last night.”

“Okay, I got you, man. I got you,” Garrett said surrendering and lifting both palms into the air.

“Maybe Bishop Jones is getting government subsidies for the buildings. Federal funds and government fraud means automatic prosecution.” Excitement clung to Maxwell's words and hung in the air. His gaze widened as he nodded up and down.

“That's a great angle to check out,” Garrett stated.

“I wouldn't put that past the good bishop at all. Do what you do, my friend. Do what you do best. I'm counting on you.” Maxwell patted Garrett on the shoulder as they walked down the steps and toward their cars. He looked back at the buildings envisioning when the walls would come tumbling down around Bishop Jones. Maxwell would be right there, up close to witness the reaction.

Maxwell drove to his office and picked up some files he'd forgotten. The workday was probably over for most folks in his building, but not for him. He would go home, kick off his shoes, and keep working on the case. Just as he was locking the door, a voice from behind paralyzed him.

“Hi, Mr. Montgomery,” Sonya greeted him as she walked closer.

Maxwell squeezed the keys in his hand so hard, they left ridged imprints in the palm of his hand. He turned responding, “What are you doing here?”

“I'm feeling much better now. That bout with the stomach flu almost had me out. I wanted to come in this evening and get a jump on my work, since I'm sure there's plenty to catch up on.”

“No, you won't.” His voice was cold. His words were firm. “Let's step into the office for a minute. We need to talk, and it won't take long.” Maxwell didn't wait for her response. He unlocked the door without turning on the lights and walked straight to his office. Only the security auxiliary lights and fading daylight lit the pathway.

Sonya followed Maxwell quietly. He placed his briefcase and keys on top of his desk. “Have a seat,” he told Sonya firmly, gesturing toward the chair in front of his desk. Maxwell traipsed the window and stared at people and traffic moving below. He wanted to calm himself before starting the conversation that had been simmering for days. He wondered if she would lie about her membership at Greater Metropolitan. Had she been a spy for Jones all along and just playing him in the process? He had to know.

Maxwell approached Sonya. He stopped at the corner of his desk and stood behind it singeing her with his piercing stare. “I don't believe in beating around the bush. I'm sure you know that much about me.” She nodded in affirmation. “So, how long have you been a member of Bishop Jones's church?” Maxwell kept his gaze locked, daring her to look away.

Sonya's feet appeared to be pressed hard against the floor. Her hands dropped from the arm of the chair into her lap. He watched as she laced her fingers together, digging her nails into the back of each hand. “Mr. Montgomery, I've only been a member there for a little over a year. I wanted to tell—”

Maxwell cut her words off with the firm down stroke of his hand to the desk. “Do you think I'm a fool? You work in my firm, which gives you privileged access to information. You know I'm mounting a case against the pastor, and you've never said anything to me about your affiliation there. You didn't think your membership at Greater Metropolitan would be of interest to me?” Maxwell placed both hands on the desk. Supporting his weight with his fingertips, he leaned closer to Sonya. “Just recently, I even reminded you of our confidentiality agreement. What have you told Jones? And you better not even try to lie.”

Sonya's bottom lip quivered with her futile attempt to respond. A confession erupted. “I didn't know in the beginning. Honestly, I didn't. By the time you told me you would be investigating Greater Metropolitan, I was afraid to tell you about my membership.” She sniffed hard and wiped at both eyes with the heels of her hands. “Somehow, I felt like my job would be in jeopardy if I told you. So, I just started looking for another church. I was going to tell Greater Metropolitan that I'd be moving my membership. Then I decided the best thing to do was just leave quickly and quietly.”

Her explanation sounded plausible. He gained composure. “Sonya, you still should have told me. I rely on honesty and full disclosure from the people who work for me. It's not acceptable for you to keep something this important from me,” Maxwell chided. He felt the veins in his temples pulsating.

She stood up and her words were hard to decipher through the tears and emotion stuck in her throat. “Please, Mr. Montgomery, don't fire me. I've left many churches since I started working for you. Every time I join a church, and start to feel like I can get comfortable there, you start investigating them.”

Maxwell felt sorry for her, because he suspected she'd be looking indefinitely for a good church, if there was such a beast.

“I grew up in the church. It's an important part of me. I just keep choosing the wrong one. I've never even had a conversation with Bishop Jones about anything. His membership is so big. Most members never interact with him personally. Please believe me; I would never ever betray you in any way. I need this job. My nephew is ill, and I want to help my sister financially. Please, please don't fire me.” She wiped the tears from her now-puffy eyes only to have them followed by another stream of salty water.

He was touched. Maxwell reached across his desk and handed her the box of tissue. The knowledge of her ill nephew pricked at his heart. He thought about Tyree. He also thought about the impact that his pursuit of corrupt churches had on Sonya without realizing it. But in essence, he had done her a favor. Maxwell was about to do her one more favor.

“Stop crying, Sonya.”

“I can't help it. I really don't want you to think that I'm disloyal. I don't know what I'll do if I lose this job.” She pressed her fingers against the corners of her eyes preventing the forming tears from falling. Sonya then pulled two tissues from the box and blew her nose.

“Relax; I'm not going to fire you. But, understand me, and understand me good. I will not accept anything remotely resembling disloyalty, conflict of interest, half-truths or nondisclosure in the future. Let's be clear, you will be terminated immediately. Look, I'm not trying to give you a hard time. I just have to be sure there is no cause to doubt you.”

“No cause,” she echoed and hugged him quickly. “Thank you, thank you so much. I won't let you down. Oh, yes, I'm considering checking out Pastor Renaldo Harris's church, Faith Temple. He's not on your hit list is he?” Sonya giggled. “I'm sorry. I mean he's not on your list to be investigated is he?”

Maxwell let out a light snicker. “No, he's not yet but join at your own risk.” He was pretty sure Sonya was being honest and hadn't been planted in his office by Bishop Jones. Besides, Garrett had already checked her out thoroughly once he found out she was a member of Jones's church. Although nothing detrimental was discovered, Maxwell felt justified in confronting her. She had to know how much value he placed on loyalty and trust. He was certain she'd gotten the message.

Maxwell's drive home was quick since it was late and the evening rush hour traffic had long died off. Once inside the house, he tossed his briefcase, keys, and suit jacket onto the leather chaise in the corner of the living room. He sank into the oversized sofa and folded his hands behind his head. Tranquility was elusive. Maxwell was very anxious about having so much mounting evidence against the bishop, but he hadn't come up with a real headlining theme yet. He tossed and turned on the sofa. Every piece of evidence, every clue that led to another investigative opportunity, and every conversation with each landowner flashed through Maxwell's mind like a slide show. He couldn't decide whether to make the civil case surrounding the land scheme or press the prosecutor for criminal charges.

For a few minutes, he thought about what his father went through years ago. An innocent man behind bars, his livelihood, family, and reputation all ripped away. Maxwell swung his fist hard into the air. He had enough to build both a civil and criminal case. The more he pondered, the more agitated he became. Why did he have to choose? He'd go after it all. Bishop Jones would have to pay for his sins. His reputation would have to be destroyed just like Maxwell's father's had been. He wanted revenge. Lying there, he imagined the rage in the bishop's eyes. Maxwell could see the humiliation painted on the bishop's face as the criminal courtroom echoed “Guilty” and the civil case resulted in “We find in favor of the plaintiff”. Jubilations washed over Maxwell's body. The wrinkles on his forehead faded, and he stopped clenching his teeth. His breathing slowed down as he fell asleep.

The third ring of the doorbell summoned Maxwell from his peaceful nap. His eyelids popped open, and he peered at his watch. He'd been asleep for about thirty-five minutes. The doorbell rang again with Maxwell panning around the room a little groggy. He rubbed his eyes and released a wide-mouthed yawn. He peeked through the long side panel of beveled glass next to the door. Nicole stood there with her cell phone out. Maxwell opened the door.

“I was just about to call you. I've been ringing your doorbell for over five minutes. Are you okay?” Nicole gently touched his face allowing her fingertips to slide down along the frame of his jaw and then over the curve of his bottom lip. She stepped into his space and planted a soft peck onto his lips.

“Hey, yeah, I'm okay; I just fell asleep for a minute on the sofa. Come on in; sorry I kept you standing outside.”

Nicole took hold of Maxwell's hand, squeezed it, and led him over to the sofa where they both sat. “How have you been?” she asked.

“Fine, just busy; you know how it goes.” Maxwell wasn't fully alert. With the strain between him and Nicole, he didn't know what to say even if he had been fully alert. He'd have to stumble along. “You look nice. Were you out of town?”

“Yes, I was actually. I stopped by here before going home. I was hoping we could talk again. We haven't spoken since my last visit.”

“I guess so.”

Her eyes fell away from his as she caressed the backside of his hand. “Well, you know, we both needed space to think.” Her eyes darted back to his while a few moments of silence made the short distance between them feel like a valley to Nicole.

“I haven't really been able to think about much of anything other than work.”

“Come on, Maxwell, that's exactly what I'm talking about. You can't live your life with work being your only interest. There are some rewards that can never be attained through a career, no matter how much you invest. That is just not the way life is designed.” Nicole traced the edge of his hairline with her finger and kissed his cheek. “I've learned that myself over the last few weeks. I want my life's legacy to be more than a six- or seven-figure salary and a slew of awards.” She glanced at his award sitting on the mantle.

Maxwell got up and pulled a large brown folder out of his briefcase. “I really can't do this right now. I'm tied up on a big case and that's not going to change anytime soon. I should be working right now.” Saved by his ringing cell phone, Maxwell held up his index finger and said, “Give me just a few minutes. I need to take this call. I'm sorry.” He walked down the hall and into his office.

Nicole's eyes scanned the room, taking in the assortment of beautiful things. She especially admired the cathedral ceilings and the glossy black piano, which was showcased in the open space just above the living room in the loft area. Each piece of art, sculpture, and painting represented something or made some type of statement. The fact that Nicole didn't see one single family photo in Maxwell's home or his office also made a statement. She was forced to wonder why he was so empty inside. Was he incapable of feeling or wanting anything on a personal level? What stripped away the tenderness from his heart? There had to be something that prevented him from thirsting for anything other than the next win in the courtroom.

Maxwell returned. “I'm really sorry about the interruption. It was business, and I just couldn't put it off.”

She took one more look at the award sitting on the mantle then stood up and went to Maxwell. “I guess work is the only thing you are willing to be fully committed to. The only real thing you can give all of yourself to and not hold back on any level.” Maxwell looked away. “I know I can't change that about you. And, I guess I don't really want to. It's who you are and unfortunately I have to accept that.” She stepped closer to him, as close as she could possibly get. Nicole wrapped her arms around his neck and nestled her face against his cheek. She inhaled, slowly, drawing in one last whiff of him, not wanting to let go. “We're not traveling the same path. We don't want the same things.” Her eyes burned, so she squeezed her lids together tightly. “That makes me sad, but it is what it is.” She blew out an elongated exhaled. “I wish you well. I hope one day there will be someone truly special in your life.” She released her hold on him. “You deserve more than a stack of folders to spend your evenings with.” Nicole pressed her lips against his briefly. She walked away from him without another word and without waiting for any response he had to offer.

Maxwell followed her to the door in silence. Dignity ushered Nicole to the door and she left without resistance. He closed the door pressing his hand against the frame as the other was holding on to the knob. Maxwell thought about the day he'd met Nicole. They'd simultaneously pulled up to a corner parking space. Neither was willing to give into the other. He knew then she was headstrong and would offer him a challenge. Despite their recent conflict, he had plenty of fond memories. Their relationship may have been unconventional, but he enjoyed having her in his space. Maxwell knew he was going to miss her, but there wasn't an option. The boundary lines were drawn. He absolutely couldn't allow anything or anyone to mean more to him than his mission to annihilate Bishop Jones. Sacrifices were his and had been his faithful companion for nearly a lifetime.