A dog returns, p.4
A Dog Returns, page 4
No answer.
The garage code worked, and the inside door to the house was unlocked but closed. I put on a pair of black latex gloves. I always keep some with me. I drew my gun. I always keep that on me, too, then I quietly opened the door, scanning the inside.
The kitchen was clear.
The inside was neat and orderly. It looked like the home of an elderly woman: pictures on the walls, porcelain figurines decorating the end tables and the upper shelves of a wooden entertainment center, a couch and love seat with knitted armrest protectors.
The place was small—two bedrooms, one bath, no basement. All the lamps were off, and the mid-morning sun slashed through the blinds, dancing fairy motes in the beams.
I don’t like this part of the job—going through people’s secret things.
A home doesn’t feel secret when the inhabitants are there. When they are there, these things are their pride. But when they aren’t, everything feels different. I felt like what I was. An intruder, a violator of her personal space. Like I said, I don’t like doing it, but it’s the job, and it might help me bring them home.
So, suck it up, buttercup, and get it done.
I sent up a prayer asking God to let Janice know that I would be respectful of her things as I checked out the bedrooms.
Janice had the master. Nothing looked out of place. It was very neat and tidy, the bed made, the dressers dusted—no food drying on the nightstand or clothes scattered around the room. Paula appeared to be doing a good job taking care of the house and her grandmother.
I took what I assumed was one of Janice’s shirts from the hamper, along with a brush from her nightstand that had some gray hair tangled in its bristles and placed both items together in a gallon-sized plastic Ziplock bag I’d brought with me.
Paula’s room was next. It, too, was very tidy. No posters on the walls or trash strewn about. There was a pink canopy bed with a pink coverlet. On the dresser was a pot pipe in a dish with residue inside the bowl of the pipe.
What a terrible example our state had set for its youth. Legalizing drugs to poison our children for money and power. The law is supposed to be the great teacher, and a great teacher teaches right.
I gathered a couple of items from her room as well—though not the pot pipe—just a shirt and a small, well-loved stuffed puppy that was on her bed and put them in separate plastic bags.
After checking all the doors and windows, I didn’t see any evidence of forced entry. I also didn’t find any cellphones, purses, or wallets, which lent weight to the idea that no one had taken them from the house. I did another scan of the house and didn’t see anything out of place except the missing items I’d taken. It was as though I’d never been there at all.
But still … I had been.
“I’m sorry, Janice,” I said out loud. “I’ll bring you home. I’ll bring you both home.”
5
The two had been meeting for years now. Majoqui Cabrera had long since been moved to the maximum-security prison in Canyon City. Here, the restrictions were more relaxed than in the county jail. So much so that Majoqui was neither handcuffed nor shackled, although a guard did wait just outside the room. A mounted camera sat caged in one corner of the ceiling, always watching and recording.
“I read the words,” said Majoqui, who was sitting at a desk with his Bible open in front of him, “but it makes no sense. The two contradict. One must be wrong. Or both.”
He’d met with the witch woman a few hours earlier. The same witch woman who had blessed him with protective amulets and spells, saving him from death in his final encounter with the American police officer, Gil Mason. She looked older than death but no different from the time he’d first seen her nearly a decade ago.
Today was Majoqui’s chosen day for church. The ACLU had made it impossible for the prison to stop the visits.
Americans.
On the inside, Majoqui laughed at their weakness. Outwardly, he continued his game with the Bible Man, the old fool. Every week, Majoqui was able to stab him through the heart. It was always subtle—disguised—but he could see the pain in the man’s eyes. Although fleeting, it was there, and it cut deep into the man’s soul.
In this way, Majoqui was able to hurt Gil Mason. Gil Mason didn’t even know he was being attacked, but Majoqui knew there were other ways to injure than physical attacks. Gil Mason loved this man, and every week, Majoqui hurt him.
Today he’d had his men pay the witch woman extra so that she would put a spell of guilt on the man. A spell that would stab a little deeper and sting a little sharper. But first, he had to set the trap. He had to make the Bible Man believe he had a chance to save Majoqui’s soul. Otherwise, the Bible Man would leave and never come back.
Majoqui had realized this on their first visit. The secret to hurting the Bible Man, thus hurting Gil Mason, was to keep him hooked, like a fish. And over the years, he had played the line masterfully, letting him run, then pulling him back until the line was close to snapping, before letting it out and then taking up the slack once again.
But even Majoqui was amazed that the man had lasted so long.
“It looks contradictory on the surface,” said Nathan. “But that’s because you aren’t seeing the plot of the story. It’s as if you were watching the movie Jaws—you saw the movie, right?”
Majoqui was momentarily taken back at the Jaws reference. He’d just been thinking of playing the Bible Man like a fish—had he read his thoughts? Majoqui Cabrera had to be careful. He was wise enough to understand the Book held power. Magic. The Book had to be respected, just not the man.
“Yes,” Majoqui nodded, “I’ve seen it.”
“Okay,” continued the Bible Man, “in the film, you meet Chief Brody before anyone knows a monster fish is using Amity Island’s inhabitants as a stocked pond. He’s enjoying watching everyone having fun swimming and playing in the water. Now, imagine you go out to get popcorn, and when you get back, you see Chief Brody closing the beach and not letting anyone go near the water. Without understanding that something major had happened and that now the circumstances were different than they were before, you would be completely confused. You would think his actions were contradictory. Then, you go to the bathroom, and when you get back, the chief, Quint, and Brody are sailing away on the ocean after Brody had said no one was allowed on the water. Again, contradiction? No. The chief is establishing rules for certain people due to certain circumstances at certain times.”
“What does a movie have to do with Paul and James?” asked Majoqui. “Jonah, yes. He was swallowed by a large fish, like the shark in the movie. But not Paul or Peter or James.”
“No,” said Nathan. “I’m just using it as a metaphor here. The Bible is most often literal, but God is the greatest writer of all time. He uses metaphors, idioms, parables, poetry, songs, whatever it takes to best get the message across. So, the point I’m trying to get across to you is that you have to know the plot of the story and recognize its twists and turns to fully understand the story. Look, we went over Adam and Eve and the fall, right?”
Majoqui nodded. “Lucifer tricking Eve, yes.”
“Okay, so back up a little bit. On the sixth day, God made Adam and Eve, finishing his creation. He looked at what He’d made and stated it was all good. God then gives them one rule—don’t eat the fruit from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. That’s all they have to do, obey one rule, and they will stay in perfect communion with God. Now, imagine the Bible you have is missing pages, and the next thing you read is that there are people everywhere instead of just two. They have ten commandments to obey, and they are breaking all of them.
“Confusing, right? Seems contradictory. But it’s not contradictory at all. It’s just that you missed the plot twist. You didn’t see where man multiplied over the generations, growing more and more corrupt until their every thought and deed was only evil. They are hurting each other and God continuously so that He destroys nearly all life with a global flood. Later, He creates a priesthood to bring man back to Him and issues a thing called The Law—ten commandments that they are to live by to stay right with Him.
“Because you don’t have all the pages, it would seem confusing and contradictory. Millions of people instead of two, ten rules instead of one. What’s right? How are you to please God? Do you just not eat the forbidden fruit? Do you try and keep The Law?
“The only way for you to know is to understand the plot, paying attention to the twists. In the opening scenes of Jaws, Amity is peaceful and quiet. The water is pristine and safe. It’s right for Chief Brody to let people swim, sail, and fish. But once the woman’s body washes up and others are killed, it’s right for him to order everyone out of the water. There’s no contradiction. And there is no contradiction when Brody, Quint, and Hooper go out on the ocean once they figure out it’s a killer great white they have to kill. It all makes perfect sense, and everyone understands their role and what they need to do. The townspeople and tourists need to stay off the water, while the selected fishermen, Brody, Quint, and Hooper, go out on the water to kill the monster.
“Understanding the plot of the story, with its twists, takes away all the confusion, clearing up any seeming contradictions.”
“How does that explain the difference between James and Paul?” asked Majoqui.
“Certain rules for certain people at certain times, because of changing circumstances. Adam and Eve—everything perfect. One rule. Fall of man, global destruction, hundreds of millions of people, ten rules.
“Peter and James are circumcision believers, meaning they were circumcised members of the Nation of Israel who believed in the risen Christ while under The Law, the Ten Commandments, as well as other Jewish law. Paul is the first member of The Body of Christ, apostle to the gentiles, not under the law, saved by faith alone.
“The Ten Commandments for Israel, the Law of Love for Paul and the Body of Christ. Different rules for different people due to changing circumstances.”
Majoqui Cabrera looked down at the Bible on the desk before him.
He heard the conviction in the Bible man’s voice.
The passion.
This was the time.
“Is this why you come here? Is this why you forgive me for shooting your granddaughter in the face while making your daughter and son-in-law watch?”
And there it was.
The pain.
The rage.
The Bible man hid it quickly.
But it was there.
“I don’t forgive you,” said the Bible Man. “I could forgive you—at least I pray that I could if you were to accept the gift God offers you. The gift paid for by Jesus Christ. But if you don’t, I’ll stand with the other saints on Judgment Day and condemn you to eternity in Hell, alone with your guilt.”
Majoqui grinned again inwardly.
The Bible Man was so easy to play.
So easy to hurt.
“I read that Jesus said you must forgive me. If you don’t, your God will put all your sins back on you.”
Majoqui saw the Bible Man’s jaws clench as he looked away. But then he turned back and spoke.
“Like I said, different rules for different people. Jesus was talking to Israel, but even then, He said, if a brother repents, then you must forgive. Paul says that if a brother repents, we should forgive. The only law in the Body of Christ is the law of love.”
Majoqui had done enough for one day. He was always sure to end their sessions while the cut was fresh. He knew the Bible Man would dwell on the pain.
Majoqui closed his Bible and stood up from the desk. The guard entered instantly.
“Much to think on,” said Majoqui Cabrera. “Next time, we will discuss this law of love you speak of.”
Without waiting for a response, he turned and walked through the doorway, the guard following. Behind him, the Bible Man, father-in-law to Gil Mason, leaned on the desk with both hands, his shoulders sagging, his head drooping.
Majoqui grinned, and this time, on the outside.
6
It took a little longer to get back to my office from Janice Gains’ home. Lunchtime traffic. And now, sitting in front of my computer, I stared at the screen. I’d seen the pattern before. It usually didn’t bode well for the victims. There had been several withdrawals from ATMs, starting yesterday and continuing today, the last about twenty minutes ago. Of course, it could be Paula Gains stealing from grandma, but if that was the case, where was grandma?
I didn’t like it already. Not if Paul Gains was as sure about his daughter as he seemed. I tried to call Kenny, a genius geek friend of mine who can find out anything and everything from what he calls the Verse. Unfortunately, Kenny didn’t answer, which was very unusual for him. Since he knows everything, he usually knows when I’m about to call and what I want to know even before I do.
Luckily, I have other friends.
Tippity-tapping on my computer, I came up with a number. Donna Murphy answered on the first ring.
Tech people. Do they just know?
Donna works technology security at the same banking institution where Janice Gains has an account.
“Formation Banking, this is Donna. How may I help you?”
So, she didn’t know it was me. Maybe they weren’t wizards after all.
“Hi, Donna, this is Gil Mason.”
A while back, maybe nine months after I got back from Germany the first time, after rescuing Max from a dogfighting ring, Donna had hired me to help with her ex-husband, Eddy. Eddy had gotten a little weird after their divorce, which was a little weird itself since it was his cheating on her that led to their separation in the first place.
As a rule, I don’t take on the typical domestic cases—the straying wives and husbands, spying to catch them in the act like an episode of Cheaters. I’m not that kind of PI. I’m more the find missing persons and stop situations that are getting out of hand from getting way out of hand kind.
Donna’s was the latter. They didn’t have any kids, so things should have gone smoothly. Only Eddy couldn’t seem to see it that way. He started following her. He showed up at her supermarket, outside her hairdresser’s as she was walking up, at work on her lunch break…
He wouldn’t say anything, just smile, maybe throw a wave, and then keep on walking like it was a coincidence. And at first, she thought it was. But after a month, she began to get worried. As it so often does, the following morphed to stalking.
Eddy stopped waving.
He stopped smiling and walking on.
He’d just be there.
Staring at her.
And it was happening more and more frequently so that she was looking for him everywhere, all the time. Finally, she got so creeped out she confronted him when he showed up at the bank. She told him she didn’t want this to happen again. To just leave her alone. The whole time he kept silent, one hand in the pocket of his pants, fidgeting.
He didn’t blink.
Didn’t smile or talk back.
Donna told him if he kept following her, she’d call the police. Two days later, she spotted him standing at the end of her driveway by the trashcans she’d put out the night before. Slowly, she backed away from the curtains. Hiding behind the window and the darkness of the house behind her, she watched. He didn’t move. For almost half an hour, he stood perfectly still, glaring at her garage.
Donna had the police respond. Two patrol cars showed up about ten minutes later. They talked to him, got his ID, wrote some things down, talked to him some more. One of them stayed with Eddy while the other came to her front door. The officer was friendly, polite, listened as she told him what had happened before and what was going on now. She told him she thought Eddy might be armed. That he had a concealed carry permit.
That she was scared.
The officer called his partner on the radio, and Donna saw the other officer perform a pat-down search of Eddy. The officer pulled out a small, silver revolver from the same pocket he’d been fidgeting with the last time she saw him.
The two officers met mid-way on her driveway and conversed. Eddy stared at Donna the entire time, his face completely blank. The police officers moved back to their former positions—the one with Eddy, the other with her. He explained there was nothing they could do. That Eddy wasn’t breaking any laws. He was allowed to have the gun, and he could walk or even stand on the sidewalk if he wanted to. He told her they would make an information report and that she could try to get a restraining order. If she was successful, the next time he came around, they could arrest him for violation of a restraining order and domestic violence. He would go to jail and not be released until he saw a judge.
Colorado’s pretty strict with its Domestic Violence laws. The other officer told Eddy he should move along. Eddy told the officer he liked the view here and that he was going to stay a bit longer. The officer told him they would just stay too then.
Eddy turned and left.
Donna got the restraining order and had it delivered to Eddy. After that, he was more careful. She would occasionally catch glimpses of him, but he was always gone by the time the police arrived. She tried to snap a photo of him with her phone several times, but she never could. A friend of hers at the bank showed her my coin. I’d helped him out on a different case a couple of years earlier.
She called me.
Told me the whole story.
Said she no longer knew if he was really following her anymore or if she was just cracking up from the stress. Said she’d called the police so many times they were no longer taking her seriously. Eddy was never around when they got there, and she hadn’t been able to get a picture of him. She was really starting to doubt herself. Maybe he wasn’t there anymore. Maybe she was just imagining it now.
I staked her out.
