The Last Sunday (12 page)

Samantha continued slow and steady toward her prey. As she moved, the wind blew harder, causing her dress to whip and snap in the gusts.

And then Hattie saw him. A young man standing vulnerable under Samantha's icy gaze, with the gun aimed directly at his head. His face was as clear as if he were standing in the room with Hattie. “Danny!” Hattie shrieked. Even in sleep she knew his name. She knew it as sure as she knew her own. She also knew, and did not question, that this was the man whom her pastor loved so deeply.

Hattie lay flat on her back. Her neck arched toward the headboard. She frantically began pounding the mattress with her clutched fists. “No!” she yelled into her dark room. “No!” She slammed her fists into the bed. “No, no, no, no, no!”

A loud blast from the gun pierced through her dream. She could see sparks coming from the barrel. Behind the flash she saw the dark eyes of Samantha Cleaveland staring defiantly at her. The sight caused Hattie to burst violently from the dream. She bolted upright in the bed. Her forehead was covered in perspiration. Gray hairs pointed in every direction, and plastic curlers lay strewn across the mattress. Hattie cried fitfully as she struggled to free herself from the nightmare. She fixed her eyes on the oval vanity mirror on the opposite wall and saw her shaking, disheveled reflection. The nightgown drooped over one shoulder, and her fingers shook as she clutched her gaping mouth.

“Don't let this happen again, Lord. Why are you testing me? I can't let it happen again.”

“I gave you her head on a platter, and you treated her like she was made of porcelain.”

“I couldn't accuse her of a cover-up on national television. She had just lost her husband. The public would have demanded my head, not hers.”

“Bullshit. The public loves that kind of scandal, and you know it. Admit it, Gideon. You're afraid of her.”

“Don't be ridiculous,” Gideon said incredulously. “Timing is everything with a story like this. As for her husband's death, Samantha Cleaveland is one of the most popular public figures in the country. No reporter wants to be perceived as attacking a grieving widow, especially not one like Samantha.”

Gideon and Cynthia sat facing each other in the lobby of the oceanfront hotel. They could see throngs of summer revelers taking full advantage of the afternoon heat from their vantage point in the bay window overlooking the Santa Monica boardwalk. Scantily clad joggers, souvenir-toting tourists, and sticky-fingered children juggling cotton candy and snow cones formed a mob of fun seekers and sunseekers.

Gideon would never admit to Cynthia that he agreed with everything she accused him of. He had kicked himself many times after the interview he conducted with Samantha in her home only weeks earlier.

He had had her in his sights on that day in her living room. Vulnerable, with his lights and cameras pointed at her and exposing every pore.

Gideon recalled the fateful interview that had caused him to question his ability as an investigative reporter.

“Tonight we are honored to have a woman who, until recently, was one half of a couple that for years has captivated the hearts of people around the world,” he had said, looking directly into the camera. “Her recent tragedy rocked the religious world to its core. Please welcome Pastor Samantha Cleaveland. Good evening, Pastor Cleaveland, and thank you for inviting us into your lovely home.”

He recalled how Samantha had magically transformed into a bigger-than-life character when the camera was rolling. Her skin captured the light around her and sent it back into the room brighter than it had come.

“Thank you, Gideon. It's my pleasure, and welcome to my home,” she had said graciously.

“I'm sure I speak for millions of people when I say how sorry I am for the tragic loss of your husband.”

“Thank you,” she said with a slight nod of her head.

“Let me start by asking you, are the police any closer to finding out who assassinated Pastor Cleaveland?”

“The Los Angeles Police Department has been amazing throughout this entire ordeal, but unfortunately, they are no closer today to finding his killer than they were the day it happened. A part of me feels we may never know who killed Hezekiah. The important thing, however, is that this person will have to answer to God either in this life or the next.”

“You are a woman with strong religious beliefs. Are you in any way able to forgive the man, or woman, who did this to you, your family, and all the people who love you?”

“I'm so glad you asked me that.” Gideon remembered how Samantha had looked him directly in the eye when she answered. “I have already forgiven him. This has caused my daughter and me immense pain and anguish. There were days when I didn't think I could go on without him. But you know, Gideon, God promised us all that He would never give us more burdens than we could bear. And with that knowledge I was able to get up one morning a few weeks after it happened, put on my makeup, and face another day. Don't get me wrong, though. I still cry every day, and I miss him more than you can imagine, but life must go on, and every day I get a little stronger.”

“You mentioned your daughter, Jasmine. How is she handling the loss of her father?”

“Jasmine took her father's death very hard. They were very close. She was Daddy's little girl,” Samantha said with a smile. “They were inseparable from the day she was born until the day he died. She couldn't bear to be in the house after he was killed, so she's staying temporally with very dear friends of our family in Malibu. I see her every day, and we pray together on the telephone every evening, before she goes to bed. God and time heal all wounds, and every day she gets a little stronger. As painful as this has all been, I know that someday she will come to understand that this is all a part of God's master plan.”

“Can you think of any reason anyone would want to kill your husband?”

Gideon noted that Samantha's suddenly dilated pupils were the only visible reaction to the unexpected question.

“I have thought a lot about this and have had multiple conversations with detectives, who wanted to know the same thing. Everyone loved Hezekiah. He was the kind of person that would give you his last dollar if you needed it. I've never known him to have an enemy. I can't think of anyone who would have wanted him dead.”

“New Testament Cathedral is the sixth largest church in the country. Your television ministry generates millions each year. Do you think jealousy may have played a part into this?”

“I would hate to think jealousy was a factor, but anything is possible,” Samantha said coolly. “There are many troubled people in the world. We may never know what motivated this person to do what he did.”

“Do you think you may have factored into his death in any way?”

“I'm not sure what you mean.” Her eyes became a centimeter tighter.

Gideon saw the almost imperceptible shift in her demeanor. He pressed on, unfazed by the icy glare from his guest or the rustling of his producer behind his shoulder. “What I mean is, could you have done something to contribute to the murder of your husband, inadvertently, of course?”

Megan, his then segment producer, clutched her mouth to prevent a gasp from escaping. The four cameramen looked nervously at each other and then zoomed in on Samantha's stone face.

“Anything is possible, of course. I'm sure I've made decisions in the ministry that may have possibly upset some people, but I honestly don't think I've done anything to anyone that would illicit such an extreme response as that. What your viewers need to understand is that, for the most part, the world is filled with people who have no desire to hurt anyone.

“I have traveled all over the world and have met so many people from different cultures, and I'm always amazed to find people just like you and me, all believing in the same God, but maybe calling Him by a different name, who simply want to live their lives without doing harm. There is, however, a small minority of people out there who don't have God in their lives, and unfortunately, they sometimes make misguided decisions that hurt other people.”

Gideon found some solace in remembering that he had pushed a little harder. “I find it difficult to fathom that a man as powerful as Hezekiah Cleaveland didn't have any enemies. So do you think this was a random shooting?”

“My husband was human like everyone else. He made mistakes like us all. He's done things that, if he were alive, I'm sure he wouldn't be proud of. But I'll say it again. I don't think he ever did anything that would warrant him being killed. If that were the case, we all would have to walk down the street, looking over our shoulders.”

It was at this point in the interview that Gideon abandoned the thought of exposing Hezekiah's affair with Danny. He knew from experience that after her last response the audience would be sitting snugly in the palm of her hand. She was officially immune to scandal. He grudgingly conceded that at that point the interview had turned into pure fluff.

“Let's talk about New Testament Cathedral,” Gideon said, flipping the index cards. “Shortly after Hezekiah's death you were installed as pastor. How has the transition from first lady to pastor been for you?”

“I believe it was a blessing for me. The appointment was totally unexpected. I didn't even know I was being considered for the position until I received a call from the president of our board of trustees,” Samantha said, batting her mink eyelashes.

“I, of course, was honored,” she continued, “and a little concerned whether it was too soon after losing my husband. However, the trustees had faith in me and insisted that it was the best thing for New Testament Cathedral. Initially, I said no, because I felt I needed more time to mourn my loss. But my daughter said something that changed my mind.”

“What did she say?” Gideon asked, abandoning all hope for a hard-hitting interview.

“Something very simple. She looked me in the eye and said, ‘Mommy, Daddy would have wanted you to be pastor. ' So I prayed through my tears and through my grief, and God . . .” Samantha paused and gingerly dabbed the corner of her eye with the tip of her finger. “God spoke to my heart late one night and said, ‘Samantha, this is my will. With me, you can do all things.' After I heard that, I knew I had to either live what I've been preaching all these years or just walk away. I decided I would stand on God's word.”

Gideon remembered looking down at his index cards so the camera could not catch the smirk on his face. He regretted that he had resisted the urge to ask, ‘Were you aware that your husband was involved in a homosexual affair for two years with a man named Danny St. John?' Or ‘How do you think the millions of people who send you their hard-earned money every year would feel if they knew you knew about it?' Or ‘If the public found out that one of the most loved ministers in the country was gay, it would have cost you millions. What did you do to Hezekiah when you learned of the affair?'

“Pastor Cleaveland,” Gideon said, looking up again, “I think your board of trustees made an excellent choice.”

An audible sigh of relief could be heard from Megan in the background, signaling her relief that Gideon had become less aggressive.

For the remainder of the one-hour interview Gideon censored any question that would in any way appear accusatory. His questions could have been asked by any novice journalist. Samantha skillfully spun each response to fit her image as the brave grieving widow who set aside her own needs for the good of the church.

“Pastor Cleaveland, it has been a pleasure speaking with you today. I now see why America has fallen in love with you.” Recalling this comment hurt Gideon the most. “I wish you, Jasmine, and New Testament Cathedral the best.”

“It's been my pleasure.”

Now sitting with Cynthia in the hotel lobby, Gideon felt attacked and needed to defend how he had handled Samantha during that interview.

“She made a fool of you,” Cynthia said, pressing on with her assault. “And on your own television show. She made you look like just another one of her lackeys. You let me down, Gideon. Not only that, you also let down everyone at New Testament Cathedral. The world deserves to know the truth, and you were the only person in a position to tell it.”

“Don't you think you're being a bit melodramatic, Cynthia?” Gideon asked, finding it increasingly harder to protect himself from the barrage of accusations. “The only thing you handed me was a stack of e-mails. That's not enough to build any kind of credible case on.”

“So you don't believe they're authentic?” she asked.

“I didn't say that. I'm saying you'll need more than a bunch of e-mails if you want to be the first lady of New Testament Cathedral.”