If Angels Fall (21 page)

“When Tanita Marie was stolen from me and killed, that
was the day I stopped dreaming. Everything went dark. Everything. I wanted to
die.” Martin passed Angela a tissue. “I bought a big bottle of sleeping pills
the day before Dr. Martin came to visit. I planned to kill myself. Dr. Martin
saved me. I am glad she came.”

Martin smiled encouragingly at her.

“She helped me hang on, helped me think that maybe
something good would come from Tanita Marie’s murder. That’s when this research
got started and it made me feel that Tanita Marie didn’t die in vain.”

Angela dabbed her eyes. “But some of the bad feelings
came back when Danny Becker got kidnapped in Balboa. It woke up my pain.
Someone’s out there stealing children. I pray every night for Danny Becker’s
mother and father. I saw them on TV. I pray their son will be returned safe,
that the police find the person who took him and the person that murdered my
baby.”

Reed paused a moment before asking her a few soft
questions about the group. Afterward, she agreed to be interviewed later at her
home, then Reed turned to a fresh page in his notebook.

Keller wanted to go next. “I think it’s appropriate, I
give my testimony now,” He said.

“Certainly Edward,” Martin said

Keller looked at Reed. “I remind you, I do not wish to
be identified in any way in your newspaper, but I believe what I have to say is
crucial.”

“That’s not a problem,” Reed said.

Keller studied Reed for several moments before
beginning with a recitation: “’All that he was, all that he had been, looked back
from the still water.’”

Keller allowed the words to be absorbed. Martin put a
hand to her temple as if anticipating disaster.

“You know those lines, Mr. Reed?”

Zoran again. Reed nodded. “’A Watery Death,’ I think”

“My children drowned.”

Reed hadn’t found any clippings in the newspaper’s
library about Keller’s case. “I understand,” he said.

“You understand.”

“Yes.”

“Have you ever lost a child?”

“No”

“you have children?”

“A son, Zach. He’s nine.”

Keller pondered this information. “My eldest boy was
nine when he died. It was a boating accident.” Keller’s eyes were cold, dry.

Reed prompted him. “You lost all your children?”

“Yes. All three of my children. Pierce was nine,
Alisha six, and Joshua was three. I was with them. Just the four of us. I
rented a boat to the Farallons. A storm hit as we neared the islands.”

Keller stopped cold. Reed looked at Martin for a cue.
She shrugged. Lois Jensen and Angela Donner were sniffling.

“What happened?”

“It hit us hard. Rain, thunder, violent winds, wild
swells cresting at seven, maybe eight feet. We were tossed like a toy. A whale
came up under us a split the hull. We took on water. I failed to get the life
jackets on the children. We ended up in the ocean. Stay near me, I told them.
It was impossible. They drowned calling for me. I survived. They never found
their bodies. My wife blamed me and left me shortly after.”

Keller stared at Reed. “It was God’s will. I was being
punished.”

“For what.”

“Living a lie.”

“You believe this is the reason your children
drowned?”

“I know it’s the reason.”

“I see. What do you mean by that-you were living a
lie?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“Why not?”

“It’s complicated.”

Reed said nothing.

“What my valiant brothers and sisters here have tried
to convey tonight is the universal truth that when your child dies, you die,
too. You become something else.”

Reed waited for the religious kicker.

“When my children died, I died, but I was born again.”

Bingo.

“I didn’t realize at the time. It was a very slow
process. It was an awakening followed by a revelation.”

“Tell me about it.”

Keller’s eyes went to Martin, then to Reed.

“With all due respect to the professor’s fine work,
she has only touched the surface. The truth is that if a parent comes to terms,
accepts their child’s death, they are destroyed. They have lost.”

“You’ve got all the answers, don’t you?” Keller said.

Martin intervened. “Edward. Edward. Please. Tom’s our
guest.”

“I know why he’s here.” Keller stood

“Mr. Keller, I apologize if my being here upsets you.”

“I think I’ve said enough.” Keller headed for the
door.

“Edward, please, don’t leave,” Martin pleaded.

“Good night, everyone,” Keller said over his shoulder
as he left.

“I feared this would happen.” Martin was deflated.
“I’m sorry he reacted to your presence the way he did, Tom, Henry.”

They waived it off.

“If no one minds, I’d like to end the session. It’s
been memorable,” Martin said. “Thanks, everyone. And thanks Tom and Henry. We
look forward to the article.”

“Thank you,” Reed said.

As group members collected jackets and tidied up,
Martin took Reed aside. She was concerned about Keller.

“It was a disaster with Edward. Is he going to be in
the story?”

“I don’t know.”

“I should have prevented him from talking.”

“Why?”

“The anniversary of the drownings is coming up.”

She smiled across the room at Angela, waiting in the
chair, twisting her hair. “That, along with Christmas and birthdays, is an
extremely bad time.”

“No promises. His words were on the record, but I’ll
keep this in mind, okay?”

“Okay.”

Reed approached Angela. “Thanks for waiting,” he said

Keller returned
to his house in Wintergreen Heights, deactivated the alarm,
unlocked the locks, went to his bedroom, took the silver crucifix from the
nightstand, and slipped it around his neck. In the living the room, from the
cluttered worktable, he removed a huge worn Bible. It was two centuries old.
The pastors at his children’s memorial service had given it to him.

“God’s love never dies. Accept it and your children
shall always be with you.”

He plopped in his rocking chair, Bible on his lap, and
read. Reflecting on his clash with Tom Reed. The fool. Mocking his revelation.
But it didn’t matter. He had succeeded in battle. Passed another test, abided
in the Lord, and emerged triumphant. It was the Will of the Creator.

Not the Reverend Theodore Keller’s version, but The
true Divine Will revealed in the purifying flames of his burning church. God
had pulled back the curtain of Edward’s destiny that night, whispering
revelations in his young ears.

His father’s congregation couldn’t afford to rebuild,
forcing the Reverend to move down the highway and down in stature to a smaller
California town where they existed on handouts from the faithful. It was
humiliating for Edward, going to school, knowing the clothes he wore and the
lunch he brought were not provided by God, but by farmers, merchants,
widows-the parents of his classmates.

Edward’s loathing for his father festered and he vowed
not to follow his impoverished, sanctimonious life. At seventeen, he discarded
his parents, and up and left. He hitchhiked to San Francisco and he put himself
through collage, working nights at a bookstore, weekends at a contracting firm
in North Beach. He studied philosophy and business, graduating near the top of
his class, not knowing what he would do with his life.

One day he returned to the overgrown site of his
father’s razed church. Amid the weed-entombed foundation, he realized his
ambition. He would build churches. Many of California’s churches were aging. A
market existed.

Keller obtained a loan and was soon offering poor
parishes new churches with long-term payment plans. His pitches were
attractive. His knowledge of theology, philosophy, and his son- of-a-preacher
approach ingratiated him with church leaders.

It also captivated Joan Webster, the only daughter of
a minister in Philo. She astounded him, distracting him during his first
meeting with Reverend Webster. She possessed a celibate air of fresh-scrubbed
wholesomeness. He wanted to be with her. He gave her father a ridiculously good
deal and personally supervised the construction of the new church so he could
be near her.

Joan thought he was intelligent, handsome, unlike any
of the local young men. He was a builder, a dreamer who could sweep her away
from dusty old Philo to the lights of San Francisco.

They courted for a year, then married and moved to a
bungalow in Oakland. Joan was loving, fulfilling her role as duty-bound wife
and mother, bearing them Pierce, Alisha, and Joshua.

Keller’s business flourished, becoming one of the
state’s largest church-building firms. They bought a huge Victorian in San
Francisco with a postcard view of the Golden Gate bridge. There, they lived
behind a deteriorating veneer of happiness. Keller preoccupied himself with
making money, renegotiating contracts, making most congregations beholden to
him for decades. He was addicted to the power. His passion for his business
overshadowed his love for his family.

Whenever Joan tried talking to him, he stifled her
with a Biblical proverb. As time passed, she urged him to take one of the
children with him on business trips. He rejected the idea. They would be in the
way. Jeopardize a contract. Their discussions evolved into prolonged,
late-night arguments, with Joan insisting he spend more time with the children,
or there was no point in maintaining the façade of family. She would leave him.

Resentfully, Keller acquiesced.

One at a time, he took the children on business trips,
but he was so stern with their conduct that they dreaded going with him. Joan
knew he was uncomfortable having the children with him, but she believed she
was rescuing her family from disaster. Clinging to the hope he was a loving
father imprisoned by his work, she suggested he spend a day alone with the
children, away from business. Renting a boat to go bird watching and picnicking
at the Farallons would be a memorable outing.

That weekend, he loaded Peirce, Alisha, and Joshua
into the Cadillac and drove down the peninsula to half moon bay.

Keller rocked in his chair, Bible in his lap, stroking
his beard.

Squeak-creak. Squeak-creak.

That weekend.

His children. The storm. The whale. Sinking. Darkness
swallowing the children. His children.

Dawn, hugging a rock. Someone lifting him. Warmth. A motor
droning. Antiseptic hospital smells. Someone calling him. Joan’s face. Edward!
Where are the children? Telling Joan what happened. Her face. Breaking. Her
broken faced seared into his soul.

My angels! My angels! Edward, where are my
children, please!

Squeak-creak. Squeak-creak.

Keller set the Bible aside.

Time to resume his work. He went to the basement.

“Home. I want my mommy and daddy,” Danny Becker moaned
from the floor were he was scribbling with crayons in a fat coloring book. The
dog sat dutifully at his side. The room was foul. Danny’s clothes were soiled.
He had wet himself. Keller went upstairs, ran a hot bath, pouring Mr. Bubble
into the water.

A watery death.

Keller knelt at the tub. The cocker spaniel padded
into the room, then Danny appeared, gazing longingly at the water. It was a
sign. Keller smiled, began removing Danny’s clothes, then hoisted him into the
water. He unwrapped a bar of soap. Danny was docile, enjoying the warm water
and bubbles. Noticing Keller’s silver crucifix, he reached up and held it in
his tiny hand for inspection.

Jesus said to his disciples: You shall not despise
any one of these little ones, for I say to you that in Heaven their angels see
the face of my Father