Eye of the Beholder (29 page)

E
llen sat curled up next to Guy on the couch at Owen and Hailey’s, watching the six o’clock news.

“Good evening, I’m Shannon Pate …”

“And I’m Stephen Rounds. Welcome to Regional News at Six.”

“Seaport Police are investigating the murder of yet
another
college student tonight. Just before three o’clock this afternoon, police responded to a 911 call from a coed at Seaport Junior College who said she and another young woman had spotted what appeared to be a body in the bushes outside the library. Reporter Jared Downing is at the scene. Jared, what can you tell us?”

“Shannon, the mood is solemn here where the strangled body of a male student was discovered earlier today underneath those bushes to my right. He was pronounced dead at the scene, and a preliminary autopsy report puts the time of death between nine and eleven Saturday night. Investigators now believe the victim was killed elsewhere and his body brought here.

“Students and sympathizers have been gathering all evening, consoling each other and asking questions. Police declined to release the name of the victim until they’re able to locate his parents, who reportedly are away at a convention. But there’s a great deal of speculation that this death may have been a payback from the Muslim community for yesterday’s murder of an Iranian student, Daryoush Fassih, who was brutally beaten and left for dead at Bougainvillea Park. Fassih later died at Seaport Community Hospital.

“WRGL News sought Police Chief Will Seevers for comment, and he gave this statement just minutes ago …”

“I can’t emphasize strongly enough that speculation is dangerous. People should stay calm and not assume these deaths were ethnically motivated hate crimes. Give my department time to weigh the evidence. I assure you that whoever’s responsible will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.”

“But, Shannon, the chief’s words didn’t seem to appease the crowd here. Teachers, students, and parents are angry and scared. They want answers. And right now, no one seems to have any. Back to you …”

“Thanks for that report, Jared. Obviously, we will be following this story closely. Stephen, can you tell us the latest on the Fassih case?”

“Sources tell us that the police have finished combing the area of Bougainvillea Park where the badly beaten body was discovered, and several DNA samples are being analyzed. We haven’t been advised of any suspects, but we have learned that police are questioning students and faculty to see if they can find a link to the two murders.

“At one o’clock this afternoon, Fassih’s family and friends laid him to rest at a small Muslim burial ground about five miles east of the city. Reporters were respectfully asked not go beyond the gates. WRGL News complied with the family’s request, but were able to capture some of it on camera …”

Ellen gripped Guy’s hand a little tighter as the footage began to roll.

A dense crowd had gathered some distance beyond the wrought-iron gates, the backs of those closest to the cameras standing almost defiantly against the invasion of privacy. An imam’s voice could be heard chanting something foreign and indistinguishable. Then silence. Eerie silence. An unseen woman began to wail, deep and mournful, her anguish needing no words or interpretation.

Ellen blinked to clear her eyes, grateful when the news anchors reappeared on the screen.

“A sad day indeed for the Fassih family and for the entire Muslim community. But today’s murder of another student has prompted many people to wonder if this was an eye-for-an-eye response to Fassih’s murder. We will stay on top of this developing story and bring you breaking news around the clock.”

“At the U.N. today, talks continue …”

Ellen’s gaze fell on the picture of Owen on the end table. She could only imagine the anguish of Dary’s mother—and of the other student’s. Were senseless deaths like these going to become commonplace as the resentment and hatred escalated?

“You okay?” Guy put the sound on mute.

“How could anyone be okay after hearing that?”

“It’s a powder keg, honey. That’s why I want you to stay out of it.”

She turned to him. “I’m not
in
it.”

“All right. Sorry. Let’s don’t go there.”

“Can you honestly tell me you don’t feel compassion for those boys?”

“No, of course I feel compassion. I can’t imagine what it would feel like to lose Owen and Brandon that way. But our boys are smart enough to stay out of the conflict, which is fine by me because I don’t want it in our home.”

“Well, like it or not, it’s already in our home—every day via the news. And now it’s on our streets and killing our kids. We can’t just ignore it.”

“They’re not
my
kids, Ellen. And it’s not my fight.”

“Well, guess what? Kinsey’s mess wasn’t
my
fight, either, but you didn’t see me turn my back on her!” Ellen tried to choke back her tears but couldn’t. “Since when do we get to choose who we’re supposed to care about? And who gives you the right to choose
for
me? You’ve bullied me into feeling guilty for wanting to reach out to Mina. Her whole world is upside down, and I
haven’t seen her in almost two weeks. What kind of message does that convey? She needs Christians to care. And she needs to experience our love, not indifference or rejection.”

Guy took her hand. “Calm down, honey. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“Well, you did upset me! I wouldn’t think of treating Kinsey that way—even after she brought division and violence right to our doorstep!”

“I said I was sorry.”

Ellen plucked a Kleenex and blew her nose. “I shouldn’t have to sneak around to reach out to Mina or anyone else I think needs a touch from God. You’re the last person on earth I ever thought would put me down for it.”

“I don’t find it easy to care about people I don’t understand or have anything in common with. I didn’t even handle Kinsey as well as you did.”

“I didn’t do much.”

“Yes, you did. You forgave her. She left knowing you cared about her. And you gave her something spiritual to think about.”

“Thanks. But it’s not a competition. We have different gifts.”

“You obviously understand people better than I do.”

“Then trust me to follow my heart and give me the freedom to love the unlovable … or least those you find unlovable.”

Guy’s eyebrows scrunched. “How do I get my ego out of the way? I’d be lying if I said it didn’t bother me what other people think.”

“I guess you’ll have to ask the Lord that question. I honestly think the problem lies in how
you
see them. When I have trouble with someone, I ask God to let me see that person through His eyes. Once that happens, loving them isn’t hard.”

Guy arched his eyebrows. “Even Blanche, the gossip queen?”

“Deep down she’s a sweetheart. You just have to see her with different eyes.”

“That would take a miracle after the things she said about you.”

“So? Don’t forget He changed
my
heart about Blanche.” Ellen sat quietly for a few moments, holding Guy’s hand. “So are you okay with me reaching out to Mina?”

“Promise you’ll stay out of the mosque, out of the news, and off the front page?”

“Above the fold or below?” She smiled. “Just kidding. Yes, I promise I’ll do everything in my power not to get noticed by any member of the media, elite or otherwise.”

“Thanks. I’m afraid I’ve earned enough bad press for both of us.”

Guy didn’t say anything for half a minute, then picked up her hand and pressed it to his lips. “Do you have any idea how much I love you, Ellen—how much I need and value our marriage and the friendship we’ve built all these years?”

“I thought I did. I admit I’ve had my doubts lately.”

“Well, you can stop doubting.” Guy stroked her cheek. “The only thing wrong with this relationship is that my ego needs to be dethroned. And I’m sure the media will gladly do the honors.”

Gordy Jameson sat in a chaise lounge under the stars, his hands behind his head, his thoughts on Pam and their upcoming wedding. He closed his eyes and listened to the sound of the waves whooshing up on the sand and imagined himself, Pam in his arms, being lulled to sleep. The doorbell rang and his eyes flew open.

Gordy went inside and through the living room to the front door. He flipped on the light, surprised to see Will Seevers standing on the stoop. He opened the door and ushered him in. “You’re out late again.”

“I knew you’d be up,” Will said. “Mind if I unwind before I go home? It’s been a tough day and I don’t want to dump on Margaret.”

“Nah, come sit. You want somethin’ to drink?”

“No, I’m fine.”

Gordy led Will to the kitchen, then sat across from him at the table. “Anything in particular got you keyed up?”

“You mean other than pulling back the sheet on today’s victim and realizing it was Isaac Kohler, the Jewish kid I talked to yesterday? I couldn’t believe it. I just came from his parents’ home. He was their only child. Sometimes I hate this job.

“I couldn’t sleep last night, trying to get the picture of Dary Fassih out of my mind. I don’t know that I’ve ever seen a beating victim that looked any worse than he did.” Will took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “I thought I could handle being at the hospital. For some reason, I never expected the Fassihs to be a normal family.”

Gordy started to say something and then didn’t.

“I mean, most of the Muslims I see on the TV screen are either applauding a suicide bombing, threatening to behead someone, or rioting in the streets like a bunch of lunatics. Truthfully, I’ve never even talked one-on-one with a Muslim until yesterday afternoon at the hospital.” Will made a tent with his fingers. “I sat with Dary’s parents while they waited for the doctors to harvest their son’s organs …” Will swallowed hard. “It was torture for them, and they were as devastated as I would be if it were Meagan. That’s the first time I’ve ever related to Muslims as people with feelings and as parents who love their kids.”

Will seemed lost in thought and Gordy just sat quietly.

“I’ll tell you, Gordy, it’s really getting to me, thinking about what a volatile world we live in. I just want the killing to stop—and Meagan to grow up without fear.”

Gordy lifted his eyebrows. “I suspect that’s what the Fassihs and the Kohlers wanted, too.”

 29
 

T
he following Tuesday afternoon, Will Seevers received copies of the final autopsy reports on Daryoush Fassih and Isaac Kohler and wondered if any new information had been included since the preliminary. He picked up the report on Dary Fassih and read through it.

Several dark hairs had been found stuck to the dried blood on Dary’s body. These originated from a male and had been typed for DNA, but no match had been found at NCIC.

Several navy blue fibers had also been found stuck to the dried blood. The fibers were cotton and were consistent with those manufactured by Ralph Lauren for Polo shirts.

An odd-shaped indentation had been cut into Dary’s left cheek, possibly by something he had been beaten with. The angle of the wound suggested the blow had been delivered by the assailant’s left hand.

The image of the boy’s disfigured face popped into Will’s mind and he blinked it away. But the sound of Dary’s mother’s wailing lingered in his memory without mercy.

Will put down the report. The information only confirmed what was in the preliminary.

He picked up the report on Isaac Kohler and began reading. The boy had been strangled from behind with a rope. He had fought his attacker, and DNA from blood and skin cells found under his fingernails matched the DNA of the hairs found on Dary Fassih’s body.

Will took off his glasses.
The same assailant was involved in both crimes
. He looked up as Investigator Al Backus breezed through the doorway, fell in a chair, and let out an exaggerated sigh.

“We’ve questioned every student in that English class,” Al said, “and every student who even breathed the same air. Nada. Oh, we did finally catch up to the left-handed male student we missed yesterday—some scrawny kid who’s been out with mono. There’s no way he did it.”