Zenith Rising (16 page)

“Yes, from Joelle.”

He finally grinned. “Afraid you might say
that. About time too. Don’t you have family to call?”

She shrugged. “Sure. But they’re not in town
right now.”

She left it at that. There was no explaining
her crazy-ass family, especially if she didn’t have to.

“Okay. Then call Joelle. Call someone, for
God’s sake. Here’s the phone.”

Erica took it and called her friend. She
explained and fielded the questions and exclamations. Finally, she
hung up.

“She’ll be right here.”

Spencer nodded. “Good.” He turned and started
for the front door.

“Where are you going?”

“To work,” he said, pausing to add, “but
first, I thought I’d stop by the New Trinity Faith and Hope
Center.”

Erica sat up and looked alarmed. “No,
Spencer. This isn’t some bogus pamphlet. You can’t just go there.
The police are involved now. You can’t get mixed up with it.”

He shrugged. “Just wanted to check on my
immortal soul. See you, Doc. Take care of yourself.”

“Spencer—”

But the door clicked and he left. She threw a
pillow in frustration at not being able to follow him. Or stop him.
Mostly because of the fear that tried to consume her. He had a
temper and she’d seen it. She didn’t want to even try to picture
what he might do over this.

A moment later, the door opened and Joelle
came in. Taking in Erica, now lying on her couch, unshowered, with
her eyes unfocused, all Joelle could say was, “Oh, Erica.”

“I’m fine. Just bruised up a little. Not like
what happened to you.” There was a flash of pain in Joelle’s eyes
as she remembered her own brush with violence, when she was beaten
badly, and came to Nick and Erica for help. Reversing their roles,
Erica knew, would upset Joelle, more than anything. Perhaps that’s
why she hesitated before calling her friend.

“Not fine. Who did this?”

“Don’t know yet. But I’m afraid Spencer’s
going to find out.”

Chapter Ten

Spencer walked into the New Trinity Hope and
Faith Center. It was surprisingly crowded for nine o’clock on a
Wednesday morning. The church was located in a converted, metal
building that was formerly a warehouse. There was nothing pretty or
fancy, much less church-like. It was cold, gray, and plain. The
windows provided the only ambiance. But once through the entry,
there was enough seating for a mini-stadium around the center
stage. The stage was redone in crimson and royal blue and featured
a throne-like chair, enormous flower bouquets, heavy drapes, and
complex lighting that hung from the ceiling, comparable to any
Broadway play.

“Can I help you?”

Spencer glanced at the young girl in braids
who addressed him. “Looking for Preacher Don.”

“He’s right through there.” Spencer followed
the direction of the girl’s finger as she pointed. Through a door
and down a long hallway, he spotted an open door, and sure enough,
found the preacher in there, lecturing a group of young, teenaged
kids. Spencer stepped inside and it wasn’t long before Don noticed
him. The preacher grimaced and began to stumble over his words. He
finally abandoned the Bible study to one of his young
assistants.

Approaching Spencer, he motioned him into the
hallway.

“What are you doing here?”

“Looking to save my immortal soul,
Preacher-man. Thought you’d want first crack at it. Seems you go to
pretty extreme lengths to do that sometimes, don’t you?”

“Look, I know what happened to Dr.
Heathersby. The police have already been here. I was running a
Bible study class at the time. It wasn’t me.”

“No. It wasn’t you,” Spencer said mildly.

The preacher glared at Spencer. “What are
you? Her henchman?”

“No. As I told you before, I’m simply her
employee. You called her a baby killer. You want to explain to me
who else might’ve left those headless, bloody-looking dolls for Dr.
Heathersby? If that wasn’t you, or one of your followers, then who
could it be?”

The preacher sagged. “Look, I know it seems
suspicious, even obvious, but it wasn’t me. I created the pamphlet,
but not because of why you think. It was only because I liked her
so much, and I wanted to save her, and her immortal soul. She can
still be saved. I wouldn’t hurt her for anything, and I would never
condone anyone else harming her. I think she’s wonderful.”

Spencer paused when the man began blushing.
Holy shit.
Preacher had a crush on Erica! Only he couldn’t
because he believed it was wrong for him. Erica was a sinner. “You
were trying to get into her pants by saving her? You thought by
humiliating her and discrediting her, you could make her want
you?”

Preacher Don flushed as red as the throne on
the stage. “No. No. I just hoped she’d see the light. And the error
of her ways. Then she’d be free for me to... socialize with.”

“Socialize, my ass. Christ! You think that
spreading propaganda and calling her a baby killer is the way to
her heart?”

Don’s eyes flared, and he snarled at Spencer,
“Oh, and being her handyman should make her want you?”

Spencer stiffened, towering several inches
over the preacher.

Don sneered. “Oh, I’ve seen how you look at
her. How come you nearly punched me out over that pamphlet? Does
she know yet, Spencer? Does she know that you have a crush on
her?”

Spencer fisted his hands and Preacher Don
stepped closer, his mouth pinched into a cruel smile. “Do you
really think she’d ever look at you twice? You’re her handyman. Her
gofer. You’re nothing to her. If you think differently, then you
better start praying, son.”

“Don’t call me son,” Spencer said, stepping
forward. His expression grew fierce, and his stance was imposing.
“Do you know who did this to her?”

“No. I don’t.”

“Possibly one of your deranged zealots?”

“No. I’m sure no one in my congregation would
resort to violence. We strictly spread the words of Jesus by
reasoning, talking, and through prayer. Never violence. Never. Even
if she uses violence on the unborn.”

Spencer rolled his eyes. “Give it a rest. No
one else can hear us. What would your flock think about your
infatuation with a… killer of the unborn?”

Preacher hesitated, then replied, “All right,
maybe they wouldn’t agree that she could be saved if shown the
error of her ways. And redeemed. After all, isn’t that what it’s
all about? To save sinners? Obtain forgiveness? Find
redemption?”

“I don’t give a shit what you’re about. Just
make sure you and yours never bother her again. You’re number one
on the suspect list now. Especially, mine. So I suggest you proceed
with caution.”

“Are you threatening me?”

Spencer stepped closer. “No, not all; I’m
promising you.”

Preacher stepped back, bumping into the wall.
“I could report this to the police.”

“Report what? A repentant sinner came to you,
just trying to find salvation?” Spencer smiled and stepped back,
turning as he said over his shoulder, “Better watch yourself. And
what you say about her. No more. Not another word about Erica
Heathersby.”

“All right. Maybe I inadvertently drew the
wrong kind of attention to her. I never dreamed anyone might hurt
her. I just wanted to save her.”

Yeah, right, for himself. “Just watch it,
Preacher.”

Spencer left the church feeling both
frustrated and surprised, since he still had no leads on who hurt
Erica. He clenched his fists. He could not stand knowing someone
deliberately hurt Erica. With full premeditation, someone pushed
her down the stairs and left her lying there, bruised and scared.
No one could do that to her! Ever. Perhaps, Erica had good reason
to worry about him finding her attacker. He wasn’t sure what he
might do when he learned who did it. The preacher’s crazy logic to
save Erica just so he could be with her made some kind of psycho
sense. If you were that crazy. But then again, she was a special
kind of woman: so beautiful, self-possessed, and intelligent;
perhaps enough to make men do crazy things.

Spencer was pretty convinced the preacher was
telling the truth. Would one of his flock take the preacher’s
slanderous pamphlets to heart?

For now, all he knew was why Erica got
targeted by the preacher in the first place.

Who could despise Erica? It had to be someone
who knew about the pamphlet that the oh so misguided, delusional,
and sanctimonious preacher set into motion. The lovesick puppy
trailing Erica. It truly gave new meaning to the word
“lovesick.”

Spencer left the church and went to work. The
police removed all the dolls as evidence. Spencer cleaned up the
last drop of the ketchup on the stairwell. He tried to forget the
panic he felt at Erica’s urgent call.

The call he almost ignored.

He felt really bad about it after hearing her
voice, and ignoring her pleas twice, almost three times. Tamira’s
eyes were bright with what? Possibly excitement when he did not
take Erica’s call, as if talking to her was so important, he chose
not to bother with Erica.

In truth, however, Tamira didn’t even figure
into the equation. Heading toward his car when Tamira shouted his
name, he turned to find her running up, bouncing her breasts and
swinging her ass, all for his benefit. He stopped only because he
couldn’t outright pretend she wasn’t there. He had no interest in
whatever Tamira Tobison had to say. Now, he couldn’t even recall a
single thread of their conversation.

All he remembered was that Erica called
him
. And he ignored her call. Almost jeopardizing her
survival as she lay sprawled out and helpless on a staircase. And
all because he was ticked off at her.

His eyes were always riveted on Erica. He
still wondered why she called him and relied on him, and why, all
of the sudden, she looked at him so differently. She came to him
for things as easily and naturally as could be. As if he were her
rock. Or something just as important to her and her life.

But he wasn’t her rock. He was nothing. He
couldn’t see the two of them becoming anything beyond what they
were now. Still, now she trusted him; whereas before, she looked
right past him, as if he were invisible. A boy. A loser. Now he
was… what to her?

Nothing
, he reminded himself,
I’m
nothing but her hired hand
.

The sight of her fallen body and injuries,
with a knot on her head, and a bandage on her ankle, kindled enough
anger inside him to kill. Preacher was lucky Spencer didn’t think
he was at fault. There was no being nice or understanding. Not
about this. Not since Erica got hurt. Erica seemed so pale and
pasty in the hospital. The fear and uncertainty so evident in her
eyes, as well as her nerves. He didn’t like Erica being hurt or
scared. And God forgive whoever the perp turned out to be because
Spencer certainly would not. Pity the fool for making Erica feel
like that.

****

“It wasn’t the preacher, or anyone he knew
about who assaulted you,” Spencer said to Erica as soon as she got
into her car. It was the following morning. He kept her car just so
he could pick her up this morning. She was all dressed for work and
hobbled over on her crutches. He told her to stay home, but Erica
adamantly refused. She said working would keep her mind off her
injuries, but she paused at hearing Spencer’s words.

“How do you know? What did you do to
him?”

“I didn’t do anything to him.” Spencer
bristled at Erica’s accusation. “I simply talked to him. Turns out,
Preacher’s got the hots for you. Serious hots. That’s why he first
targeted you about the abortion stuff. He wants to be the one to
show you the error of your ways, and save you from eternal
damnation. Then he intends to make you his girlfriend.”

Erica stared at Spencer, her mouth open. “You
made that up.”

“No, I didn’t. And Preacher didn’t volunteer
the information either. I picked up the undertones and guessed it,
and he isn’t too glad that I know. The man has a serious case for
you. And that’s why he made you the poster child for his
anti-abortion campaign. He didn’t want to hurt you. He wants
to…”

“Please, don’t go on, Spencer. I get the
picture.”

“I was simply going to say he wants to ask
you out.”

“No, you were not.”

Spencer flashed her a grin. “Anyway, he was
sorry to see you hurt. I’m convinced of it. And he didn’t believe
any one in his congregation could to do it either.”

“Then who did? What about the dolls? You’re
telling me someone else suddenly has an issue with me too? Someone
totally unrelated?”

“No. I’d say it’s someone who’s close enough
to use the preacher’s former actions to frame him, while
terrorizing you.”

“Who? My God, it’s not like I have a list of
enemies.”

“I don’t know. But it wasn’t random. It was
all orchestrated for exactly when you left. Someone knew you always
took the stairs. And someone cut up those dolls, which meant
something to you. It’s someone in your sphere, Doc; but for what I
reason, I don’t know yet.”

Erica shivered and looked out the car window.
She was mad, annoyed, and disgusted. They rode in silence for
awhile.

“How are you feeling?”

Erica shrugged. “Head hurts. Ankle aches. And
pissed off. Otherwise, I’m great.”

“You don’t have to work.”

“I don’t want to sit around doing nothing.
This helps. I like routines and being normal.”

“And helping others. Not yourself. Order of
the day, right?”

“It’s not like that’s a bad thing. You make
it sound like I devour little children for a living.”

“No, of course it’s not a bad thing. You
could just allocate more time for yourself.”

“No one’s ever suggested that before.”

“Well, maybe you should.”