Fear Has a Name: A Novel (30 page)

Authors: Creston Mapes

Tags: #Bullying, #Newspaper, #suspense, #Thriller

BOOK: Fear Has a Name: A Novel

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EPILOGUE

Evan squeezed his arms around Wendy, who lounged in his lap in one of the comfy rockers on the back porch of the little white cottage in Englewood. They both faced the small yard out back, the mangroves and pier and long shadows falling over Lemon Bay. The setting sun behind them cast a reddish-orange hue over everything. Their three bronzed boys, clad only in shorts, backward caps, and untied tennis shoes, stood with waiting fishing poles at the end of the dock.

“Maybe we should move here.” Wendy stared out at the dark moving water and three of the four men in her life. “Or buy the place and rent it out; then we could come all the time.”

“But then it might not be like this,” Evan said. “We’d have stuff to do all the time, like painting and maintenance and all that.”

“Yeah … you’re probably right.”

“We could try to retire here—later. Although it would get pretty hot in the summer.”

She leaned her head back on his chest. “What are we going to do now, Ev?”

The boys’ voices and laughter drifted up with the breeze, filling him with comfort.

“Be a family,” he said. “Be a couple.” He brought his hands up and combed them through her hair. “I met an old homeless black lady while I was gone. A real firecracker. Valerie Belinda McShane.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I think she was an angel.” He told her about his various encounters with Valerie. “She seemed to know everything. She was like a guide in the storm. I really believe God sent her.”

“What made you think of her?”

“She said my work wasn’t finished.”

Wendy squeezed him.

“I’m going to get my house in order,” Evan said. “I’m going to be a friend to Granger Meade.”

Evan wondered if Wendy thought he was weird or wrong for making the pact with Granger—to be his friend, to try to help him. He had learned that Granger would be held at Mansfield Correctional Institution, which was just a little more than an hour from their home in Cool Springs. He planned to invest in Granger, convinced that was the main reason they had been brought together that night.

“What about the church?” Wendy said.

As it turned out, Archer Pierce had given his wife a copy of the show he had produced, implicating Dr. Andrew Satterfield on embezzlement charges in Denver, and the show was aired. Satterfield, Seeger, and Trent had been arrested for money laundering and embezzlement at Evan’s church, and charges were pending for the deaths of Archer Pierce and Jerry Kopton.

“There’s a big hole now,” Evan said. “I’m concerned about the people. But to tell you the truth, I don’t have it in me to go back yet. I don’t know if I ever will.”

Wendy patted his leg. “We’re going to take as much time as you need.”

Almost constantly, one at a time, the boys would drop to their knees, hoist up the dripping yellow shrimp bucket, put a snapping shrimp on the hook, and recast as far as they could. Evan just hoped one of them didn’t get snagged. Their neighbor Sam, who lived there year-round, had told them the red fish were hitting big, but so far no luck.

“I’ve got a conference call scheduled with the church leaders tomorrow,” Evan said. “I’m going to tell them I’ll be gone indefinitely. It will probably turn out to be a good thing.”

“Everything works out for a reason, doesn’t it?” Wendy said.

“Yes. It does.”

“I was terrified when you were gone,” she said. “It was the worst thing I could ever endure. I kept thinking, this has got to be a nightmare; it was madness. I kept asking God why we had to go through it.”

“Why did we?”

Wendy interlocked her fingers with his. “To get closer.”

When Evan said nothing, she sat up on his knee, put an arm around his shoulders, and leaned close. “After all these years,” she said, “I’m still learning, he just wants us to know he’s God. He’s in charge. He does what he wants—what he needs to do.”

“And we just hold on,” Evan whispered.

Wendy nodded, threw her other arm around his neck, and buried her head in his chest.

They hugged tightly and rocked.

“I got one! I got one!”

It was Silas, their youngest, legs braced, reeling as hard as he could, his pole bent as if he had landed a whale. His brothers jumped up and down, smacking him on the back, holding the pole with him, making sure he held on.

Jack laid his head back on the leather chair in the family room. He closed his eyes for a second, breathed in as deeply as he could with a severely cracked sternum, and cherished the sounds and smells and joy of being home among family and friends.

Since arriving back in Trenton City from the hospital in West Virginia two days earlier, Jack had worn lounge clothes—sweats, T-shirts, and moccasins—as he moved slowly about the house. He felt a bit ridiculous clutching his big pillow in front of Cecil, DeVry, Derrick, and Pam’s father as they sat chatting all around him; but since the accident, he refused to go anywhere without it. The pain was so great it had come to feel like a necessity to have something against his chest, especially when he laughed, coughed or—God forbid—sneezed.

Rebecca and Faye, in their long dresses, high heels, and beads, danced and pranced in and out from the back porch to the kitchen to the family room, carrying trays of snacks and refreshing people’s beverages. They relished having company, as each guest became their new victim and playmate.

Somehow Benjamin had managed to corral Margaret the morning of Jack’s car wreck and bring her and the girls back to Trenton City. Jack imagined Ben must have had to tranquilize her to get her to come, but it was a huge help having them there to watch the girls and assist with meals.

Pam had told Jack about her mother’s experience with the intruder in her dorm room back in college. So now, oddly enough, Pam and her mom shared similar nightmare experiences, and Jack envisioned that ultimately those haunting events would draw mother and daughter closer.

Margaret functioned much better when she had something to do, like now, as she helped Pam in the kitchen and kept an eye on Rebecca and Faye. Of course, it didn’t hurt her frame of mind to know Granger was in custody.

“So what happens to Granger now?” Benjamin said.

The family room fell silent.

Pam walked in, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel. Her mother acted busy setting the kitchen table, but Jack knew she was tuned in.

“Well, the formal charges pending range from breaking and entering and robbery to trespassing, stalking, auto theft, and kidnapping.” DeVry took a swig of his drink. “He’s being held without bond, obviously.”

“But no murder charge after all?” Benjamin said.

Jack wondered what Pam was thinking. She just stood there silently. She had come to know Granger better than anyone. Certainly she was relieved he’d been captured, but she’d told Jack that in many ways she had sympathy for him. That was a pill Jack still couldn’t swallow. But he was determined to be open about it, thinking if Pam of all people could forgive the monster, surely he should be able to.

“That turned out to be just another sick ploy by the parents,” DeVry said. “Granger showed up at their house that day. He was going to take a gun or two, possibly hurt them; we’re still not clear on his motives. Anyway, the father fired a shot into the floor as Granger was leaving. He wanted Granger to
think
he had murdered the mother and was going to frame Granger for it.”

“I wish he would have been framed for it,” Margaret said from the kitchen. “He deserves death, or at least life behind bars.”

“Think of how he grew up.” Pam whipped the towel to her side and faced her mother. “You don’t know what it was like in that home—the head games and mental anguish they put him through, all under the guise of Christianity. They hated him and let him know it since the day he was born. He had no friends. None of us knows what that would be like.”

“Well, he should have gotten himself some help …” Margaret’s voice trailed off.

Pam opened her mouth to retaliate but ended up exhaling loudly and disappearing into the kitchen. Soon cupboards slammed and pots clanged.

“The extent of his sentence is going to have a lot to do with the charges you and Pam end up pressing.” DeVry looked at Jack. “We’ve discussed that briefly. I know Pam had some reservations.”

“We still have a lot to talk about,” Jack said. “And pray about.”

“Wait a minute.” Cecil sat up on the edge of his chair and eyed DeVry, then Jack. “What are you saying?”

DeVry raised an eyebrow toward Jack and waited.

“Pam’s not sure she wants to press charges,” Jack said.

Cecil almost dropped his drink. “Why on earth not? The guy needs to be put away. He could’ve killed her.”

Jack shrugged, somewhat embarrassed. “It would reduce his sentence a lot,” Jack said. “And he would still do time for the auto theft and other stuff.”

DeVry chimed in. “His father is indicating he is going to press charges for the break-in at their place.”

“Jack.” Cecil turned around toward the kitchen, then back, and spoke firmly. “You need to talk some sense into Pam. Who’s ever heard of that, not pressing charges? That’s ludicrous. This guy deserves every year he’s got coming to him. He deserves to rot; he’s a menace.”

There it was—in a nutshell.

It was something Pam had come to grips with long before any of them.

They were all guilty.

All deserved judgment. Sentencing. Imprisonment.

Yet someone had chosen to love—radically.

That’s what Pam wanted to do.

Jack lowered his head.

Perhaps that was why all this had happened.

To show a man mercy.

To show a man Christ on the cross.

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“Evil is a departure from the way things ought to be.