Faces of Evil [4] Rage

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Revenge

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This book is dedicated to an amazing little boy named Amos. I am awed by your strength, courage, and resilience. May your future be filled with hope and happiness.

Acknowledgments

Being a cop is hard work. Whether you patrol the streets or investigate homicide scenes, the work takes dedication, courage and doggedness. I hope that my characters always portray the deep compassion and intense passion of those who serve our community.

A rage… that nothing can allay, nothing but blood.

—William Shakespeare

Prologue

Birmingham, Alabama, Monday, August 2, midnight

A
big flash of lightning streaked across the sky, making the room bright. Devon Chambers counted the seconds in his head. He didn’t like storms. He hadn’t wanted to come out of his house, but he’d heard the baby crying.

Six-one-thousand… seven-one-thousand… thunder clapped, almost drowning out the baby’s wailing.

It was raining hard outside and Devon was dripping on the tile but the mommy wouldn’t mind.

She was dead.

His stomach hurt even though he couldn’t see the mommy now. It was too dark. But Devon understood dead. His mommy had died, too. He remembered watching her in the pink coffin and waiting for her to breathe. She never did. Not even once. No matter how long the preacher talked she still didn’t breathe.

Devon hadn’t liked it much when they closed the lid and put her in the ground where she couldn’t get any air for sure. He’d worried about that until the next day at school when his teacher told him about being dead and going to heaven. He was glad about heaven. All the preacher had talked about was the angel taking Devon’s mommy in his arms and giving her to God. Devon decided he didn’t like angels much. But he guessed that was the only way to get to heaven. Couldn’t hang around down here forever, his teacher said.

Lightning flashed again and he knelt on the floor and touched the blood. It was thick and sticky. He shuddered. Not because he was afraid. He wasn’t afraid. Not for real. Rubbing the gooey stuff between his thumb and fingers he wished the lightning would come faster so he could see if the mommy had changed her mind about going to heaven and started to breathe again.

Maybe if he put her head back she would decide not to go with the angel. Patting the darkness until he touched her hair, he scooted the mommy’s head back to where it was supposed to be. He couldn’t figure out why the angel would cut it off like that. Wouldn’t she need it in heaven?

He wondered if God would be mad about the bad words. They were written on her forehead. He could wipe ’em off, but the angel had written them there.

He didn’t want to make the angel who took the dead people to heaven mad.

When the lightning had first shown him the angel taking the mommy, his throat got too tight and his heart had beat faster and faster. He’d had to go inside himself for a while. He tried not to, but he couldn’t control it sometimes. Sometimes he just had to hide. The doctor said it was his safe place.

When he’d come out of his safe place, the baby had been crying and he’d sneaked out of his house to see if it was okay. If anybody found out he’d come over here he would be in big trouble, especially with his sister. She would be really mad. But the baby was crying harder and louder, so he had to do something. The mommy wouldn’t like her baby crying. She could probably hear it all the way in heaven.

He waited a minute for the lightning to come again so he could see where the glass was on the floor. The light flashed, blinkity-blink, and real carefully he walked around the broken glass and the blood and made his way through the house waving his arms around in front of him so he didn’t bump into anything. He felt like a blind kid. He was glad the lightning came a little faster now, even though the thunder growled like a mean old bear faster and faster, too.

The baby’s room was dark like the rest of the house. Devon thought about turning on the light but that might make the angel come back and he wasn’t ready to go to heaven. He couldn’t leave his sister all by herself. She would be sad. She pretended not to like him much but he knew she loved him. Working too much and trying to go to school made her grouchy. And he was a lot of trouble. When his mommy was sick Devon had heard her talking to his sister. She said that even though he was a lot of trouble, he was her brother and she should love and take care of him always.

Ever since then he tried not to be so much trouble, but always was a long time and sometimes he forgot.

He wiped his hands really good on his shirt, then he reached into the crib and touched the baby. It stopped crying but made funny sounds and flailed its arms.

What did he do now?

He thought about all the times he’d watched the mommy out by the pool with the baby. Sometimes when it cried she got a bottle and that made the baby happy.

He felt around in the crib until his fingers closed around a bottle and he smiled. The mommy must have put it there before the angel came. Mommies were smart like that.

Devon shook the bottle and he frowned. It was empty. Oh well. He gave it to the baby anyway. The baby sucked and sucked. Sounded kind of like when he got to the bottom of a milk shake and he just kept trying to get that last bit of foamy stuff through the straw.

The sucking stopped and the baby started to cry again. Devon didn’t like the crying. Maybe he could take the bottle in the kitchen and put milk in it. Babies liked milk. He was pretty sure the daddy would be home soon. He would know what to do if the milk didn’t help.

Devon took the bottle and felt his way down the hall and the stairs. He counted the steps so he would remember to go slower and to be careful. That was a rule.
Be careful on the stairs. Don’t eat while I’m gone. And never call 911 unless the house is on fire or you’re hurt. If you think someone’s trying to get in the house, go out your window, climb down the trellis, and run to a neighbor’s house
. His sister had a lot of rules. She was smart. Really smart. Not like him.

He held his breath as he opened the fridge door. The light made him squint. He blinked a couple of times, then got the milk. With the door open he could see to fill the bottle but he made a mess anyway. He cleaned it up and put the milk away.
Always clean up your mess
. That was another rule.

Finding his way back to the bedroom was easy. He remembered the way even if it was dark. He hid in the dark a lot. It wasn’t so bad. His sister told him being afraid of the dark was dumb. He didn’t want to be dumb about that.

The baby was still crying real loud. He hoped the milk would make him happy. As soon as he put the bottle to its mouth it started trying to suck at it.

No more crying.

Devon smiled. He did good.

A door slammed somewhere in the house and he jumped. Was the angel back?

More lightning made the room as bright as the inside of the refrigerator. He didn’t see anybody before the room went black again but he could hear someone bumping around in the house. Thunder rumbled and he shivered.

The bumpy noises sounded closer.

Someone was coming.

Devon hid in the baby’s closet. His body shook so much he could barely stand up and the urge to hide inside himself was real strong. He couldn’t see ’cause of the darkness, not even when he tilted his head to look through the slats in the door, but he smelled the angel. Smelled like flowers. The same as the angel that came and took his mommy to heaven.

Would the angel know he was hiding in here?

Angels could probably see through doors like this for sure.

His heart pounded so hard he could hear it in his ears. Tears burned his eyes and he squeezed them shut real tight. In his head, where no one would hear, he prayed for the baby.

Please, God, don’t let your angel take the baby, too. The daddy will be so sad
.

The angel left the room without taking the baby.

Wow. God heard him fast. Devon’s knees felt like the Jell-O his sister made him eat when he was sick. He hated Jell-O. Especially the green kind.

He waited, listening for a while. The baby was happy. No more crying. The angel was gone. Devon should go home. The daddy would be coming soon. He might get mad if he found out Devon came into his house. He might blame Devon for the mess.

As quiet as a mouse he sneaked out of the closet and crept to the door. He didn’t hear any more noises, so he hurried down the hall and all seven of the steps. He walked past the mommy, making sure he didn’t step in the glass or the blood. The lightning let him see the way. It was still coming fast.

He stopped at the broken door. It was raining harder than before. He’d have to run across the yard in the rain and squeeze through the fence at the corner where it was sagging a little bit. He was almost too big to fit anymore.

Glass cracked behind him.

His heart bumped against his chest.

Run!
the voice in his head told him.

He darted across the yard. Didn’t look back. Skidded to a stop at the fence and squeezed between the boards. Something grabbed his arm. He jerked to get loose. Nails clawed him. He yanked and twisted. He hit the ground, then scrambled up to run. He didn’t stop until he was on the other side of his house and under the floor, in the crawl space.

He hugged his scratched arm and hoped the angel couldn’t find him here. And then he went inside himself.

Five Points, 7:35 a.m.

H
ello Jess.

The appearance of those two words on the screen of her cell phone should not have stolen her breath or weakened her knees, but they managed to do both in the space of a single heartbeat, forcing her to wilt down onto the toilet seat.