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Authors: Tyora M. Moody

BOOK: When Rain Falls
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Chapter Twelve
The windshield wipers swished the large droplets away as they fell, allowing Darnell to observe Candace and her children climb into the limousine. An older woman appeared from around the back of the vehicle. Whoever she was, Candace appeared distraught as she shared words with the woman. Darnell could see her shaking her head. It was almost like she was in terror.
Darnell turned to his partner. “Did you see that? I wonder what that's about.”
Brunson stared at him. It wouldn't be the first time Darnell sensed the old man's desire to put him six feet under.
“What's got your knickers in a knot now, Jackson?” Brunson asked.
“That woman. It was almost like Candace was scared of her or something.” He didn't know much about Candace other than what he'd seen up close the past few days. She seemed a bit impulsive, crashing into Mitch Harris's office the other day. Did she think she was going to rip a confession out of the man? Although it would have been nice.
“I don't know what you saw, but the woman's grieving. If your friend has just been killed, you have a right to look terrified.”
Darnell raised his eyebrow. “How close were they? She couldn't tell us for sure if Pamela was seeing anyone. Even if she fooled around with Mitch Harris, we don't have enough motive for him to kill her.”
Brunson shrugged his shoulders. “Look, we're probably going to end up looking at every Tom, John, and Juan who Coleman defended. She had quite a few unscrupulous characters on her client list. People paid her the big bucks to keep them out of jail. Remember that. This ain't going to be a cut-and-dried case.”
“Not if folks are holding out information.”
Brunson lifted one bushy eyebrow. “What's that supposed to mean?”
Darnell sighed. “Look, I get the impression that Candace could be difficult. She's already butting her head into places that should be left up to the police.”
“I guess she has a right to.” Brunson turned his attention to looking through the windshield.
“A right?” Darnell shook his head. “Man, no one has the right to go off on some half-cocked thoughts and accuse someone of murder with no proof.”
Brunson ignored Darnell.
Was his partner holding back something? Darnell knew how much Brunson cared about his former partner and his family. So, maybe his partner would be willing to turn a blind eye, but he wasn't. Not that he was trying to jump to conclusions, but he smelled something else brewing in Candace Johnson.
Desperation.
If he'd gone in there to arrest Mitch Harris, Candace would've remained right there, exuberant, no doubt. Of course, when a person lost a loved one, reactions included anger and a deep desire for justice.
At the funeral he'd watched Candace as she observed people. Either she'd learned a lot from her husband or she really wanted to nail somebody. They had the same objectives. He had a murder to solve, but he couldn't afford any mistakes.
Especially after today.
Pamela Coleman had officially been placed to rest. He wouldn't be experiencing rest for a while.
Up ahead, Judge Coleman and Mitch Harris escorted Desiree to the limo. That must be Yvonne Harris, Darnell guessed, walking close behind, holding a large umbrella. All three concentrated on keeping the grief-stricken Desiree upright. Worn out, Pamela's mother paused in front of the limousine as though she wanted to turn back around. Judge Coleman bent down to talk to his wife. Finally, he coaxed her into the vehicle.
Darnell exhaled as he watched everyone climb into the limo. The last thing he wanted to deal with today was questions from the judge. He needed more history about the Colemans and their obvious friendship with the Harrises. It really wasn't uncommon for a victim to be killed by someone he or she knew. Plus, there were no signs of forced entry in the home. Since Pamela had been struck from the back, someone must have had access to the garage.
He turned to Brunson. “Let's head back to the church to see if we can talk to a few people.”
Brunson eyed him warily. “Any particular reason why? We got plenty of trails back at the desk.”
Darnell knew Brunson wasn't that comfortable talking about religion or church. Not that he tried to get into anything theological with the man. Just the cringes and guffaws pretty much signaled how his partner felt about Christians or any organized religion.
He pacified him with, “If anything suspicious was going on, believe me, church folk will talk. Someone might have a rumor or a possible clue we can use.”
Chapter Thirteen
It'd been too long. Somewhere in the recesses of her mind, it warmed her heart to see Aunt Maggie. No one had called her Nana in years. People wouldn't know about that part of her life, anyway. She rubbed her forehead, which now throbbed from her emotional outburst a moment ago.
On the other hand, Candace dreaded being in the presence of the strict religious woman who raised her after her mother's death. No pants. No makeup. No secular music. No dancing. Aunt Maggie did everything she could to ensure her niece didn't fall into sin like her young sister. Without fail, on a daily basis Aunt Maggie reminded Candace of her mother's demise at the hands of some man.
Not now. The past needed to stay buried. Whatever her aunt's reason for showing back up in her life, today of all days, Candace refused to be beaten over the head with her aunt's so-called spiritual rhetoric. Not that she didn't love the Lord.
In fact, one of the defining moments of Candace's childhood came with a walk down the aisle. God moved in her, and she wanted Jesus to be her friend. That Sunday, Mama wept. First time she really saw her cry. On the other side of Mama, Aunt Maggie beamed. Maggie was just as pretty as Mama when she smiled.
Candace leaned her head against the window, embracing her memories and the coolness against her throbbing temple. Across from her in the limousine, she sensed Daniel's watchful stare.
“Mom, how long will it be?”
Candace lifted her head. “What do you mean?”
Daniel adjusted his glasses. His deep brown eyes appeared wide and misty. For the first time, Candace noticed how the rectangular frames matured his face. “You know, before they find out who ...”
Candace opened her mouth to respond, but next to her, Rachel exploded. “Are you crazy? Why would you ask that now?”
Placing her hand on her daughter's arm, Candace spoke with strained vocal cords. “You don't have to yell.”
Rachel glared at Daniel. “He is so stupid.”
“Rachel. You know better than that. That word is not tolerated.” This wasn't a good time for Daniel's inquisitions. But lately the venom Rachel spurted toward her brother was driving Candace crazy. So much for truces.
“Daniel, it will probably be a while. Real-life investigations don't work like
CSI
or
Law & Order
. Brunson's on the case, and they're working hard.”
“Yeah, I saw Brunson at the funeral today. I hope they don't take forever. You know, like with Dad.”
Candace nodded. No words to say. They'd been down this road before. Waiting for the police, her husband's colleagues, to bring her answers. Two years later. No answers. No justice.
Right now she needed time to get her head wrapped around reality. She felt all cried out, but her tears weren't finished flowing. Through blurred eyes, she reached into her purse to locate a tissue. None of them were very fresh, so she uncurled one to blot her face.
“You sure we shouldn't just go home?” Rachel asked, her voice barely a whisper compared to its volume a few minutes ago.
Candace faced her. “We won't stay long. You two grab something to eat.”
“Sounds good to me.” Daniel rubbed his stomach.
Candace couldn't help but smile. Daniel never failed to find a bright spot, especially if food was involved.
Glancing back out the window, she saw Victory Gospel Church. Modern and much larger than the old edifice, which had stood in the same spot for fifty years, Victory had grown in leaps and bounds over the years. Now sporting a membership of six thousand, the church had no intentions of stunting its growth. Pastor Jeremiah Freeman was the second pastor for the church, taking over the reins of the church his father had established.
Rumors floated around about the pastor's health. There would soon be a shift in the Freeman dynasty, with the longtime youth minister, Jonathan Freeman, stepping into his father's place as pastor. As evident today at the funeral, the younger Freeman was stepping into the role swiftly.
A member for only five years, Candace found the larger building a bit overwhelming sometimes. It was hard not knowing who sat next to her on the pew. Some Sundays being anonymous worked to her benefit. She didn't have fond memories of her childhood church, where everybody knew her business, whether she liked it or not.
One thing for sure, folks at Victory Gospel had known Pamela. She hadn't attended church every Sunday, but when she was there, people noticed her. The Colemans had been cornerstones in the church since Pamela's birth. Whenever Pamela had participated as a featured speaker for the women's ministry conferences, Candace had supported her friend from one of the front pews. Practically sisters, both only children, they'd been attracted to each other like peanut butter and jelly.
Her body shuddered as the tears flowed.
God had snatched her husband away. After all the surgeries to mend Frank's body from the gunshot wounds, at least she and the children had had the opportunity to say good-bye to Frank before the infections stopped his breathing.
No chance for good-byes this time. Candace blotted her face. Then she did something she hadn't been doing regularly. She prayed.
Lord, don't let Pamela's killer go unpunished.
Chapter Fourteen
Darnell managed to bypass the funeral processional, arriving at the church in time to watch a line of cars slowly weave into the parking lot. The cathedral-like megachurch took center stage, with its stone exterior and glass front. Even more modern in design than the main church building, the Victory Gospel Community Center stood on the back side. Since the grand opening, the VG Community Center had become a hot spot for community events. To his own surprise, he had recently decided to sign up to coach the boys' basketball league. Should be a nice breather from the job.
Church was not always on Darnell's agenda, but he had attended a few services at Victory Gospel since moving to Charlotte. The charismatic pastor seemed to have his hands on the pulse of the surrounding community, as evidenced by the growing church. The church was definitely different from the country church his grandmother had dragged him to every Sunday. And Wednesday. Oh, yeah, and Friday night.
The first time he entered Victory Gospel, he couldn't help but stare at all the people. When the choir entered the loft, the energy in the place crackled. He felt at home.
Funny, despite all those years he tried to separate himself from his roots in the Carolinas, after the divorce he came right back. Even to church. His momma must be smiling at him from heaven. At least he hoped. After all, he was on the right side of the law now.
As they walked toward the building, Darnell glanced over at Brunson. He stopped walking when he saw his partner pull a cigarette out of a pack. “Hey, man, it might not be too cool to light up one of those right now. You know what I mean.”
“Ah, come on! Like church folks don't smoke. We're still outside.”
Darnell grimaced. Unfortunately, Brunson was right, but this was not the time to argue. “Look, man, I'm sure this property is a smoke-free zone.”
“Whatever.” Brunson stuffed the cigarettes back out of sight.
The two detectives entered the community center's foyer, which was full of people and the aroma of fried chicken. Darnell sniffed the air, remembering breakfast was a long time ago.
“Detective? Detective Jackson?”
Darnell cringed at the sound of the approaching female voice. “Man, don't tell me that's who I think it is.”
Brunson reached his hand back into his coat pocket. “It is.”
Darnell turned around and plastered on his best grin. He knew it oozed with phoniness. From the look on Serena Manchester's face, he suspected the reporter didn't care.
That
was a problem.
“Detectives, it's good to see you. Don't tell me you're gathering suspects here at the church? Although, I imagine a funeral makes a perfect spot to start.” Serena swept her hand through her dark brown tresses with honey highlights, directing a beauty pageant smile in his direction.
It was no secret to him or anyone on the force, for that matter, that the seductive news reporter had a thing for Darnell. He still suffered from his temporary lapse of judgment a few months ago.
Brunson's already thin lips formed a straight line across the bottom portion of his face. His partner gave him a wary look and walked off with his hand in his suit pocket. Darnell's smile faltered. Any other time Brunson would have stuck around to duke it out with the reporter. He didn't appreciate having to deal with the woman alone.
Serena plowed forward, giving him no time respond. “Just to be clear, I want to remind you how important this story is to the people. We definitely want to get to the bottom of this tragedy.”
“Oh, I'm sure you do.” With all her Southern charm, he never figured Serena would use him to get a story. He expected that in L.A. but had learned an ambitious reporter had no state boundaries. Accused of leaking valuable information to the press in a previous case, Darnell wanted to keep his distance from Serena. What in the world was he thinking? Would he ever redeem himself? “Serena, what do you want, anyway? The woman was just laid to rest.”
Serena snapped back, “Of course I realize that. I'm wondering if you know that. People want information. You don't think these folks can sniff out a cop. You obviously are here to pay more than respect.”
Darnell bent toward her, his face inches away from hers. “Just be patient. This is more than about being the first to get the story. We don't need anyone messing up this investigation.”
Serena puckered her lips. Darnell stepped back.
“Now, Darnell, you know I mean you no harm. You're not still mad, are you?”
He glared at her. “The captain will have a press conference soon. You'll get your information when everybody else does.”
“You think?” She placed one hand on her hip and flashed that annoying smile at him. If he wasn't careful, that same smile could suck him into a world of trouble. Darnell willed his mind not to react.
“By the way, I have a good source that says Ms. Coleman was hot and heavy with someone powerful enough to want her dead. Sounds like you are in for a long, intense investigation. I'm sure you will need my help sooner or later. Have a good afternoon, Detective Jackson. I'll be in touch.”
Now, where did she get that information? The only person he could think of was Candace Johnson. Surely, the woman wasn't knocking around Mitch Harris's name to the media. She had been married to a cop and should know firsthand the importance of keeping a lid on information.
Before Darnell could inquire about the source, Serena sashayed over to a group that included Pastor Jeremiah Freeman and several other official-looking people. Starting with Pastor Freeman first, Serena wasted no time shaking hands. To Darnell's dismay, the next in line was Mitch Harris himself.
A pair of eyes locked with his from across the room. Mitch's glare was accusatory. Or guilty. Darnell loosened the knot on his tie and smiled. If Mitch Harris had something to hide, he intended on finding out and then nailing him.

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