chapter ninety-seven

I woke up groggy, stiff, and with the residue of a dream that I couldn’t remember clinging to the back of my mind. After a long shower and two cups of strong tea, things started to clear up in my head a bit, and I remembered what day it was. I glanced at my watch; it was already after ten, and I was going to miss church if I didn't hurry up. On a whim, I called Viola as I tossed my dishes in the sink and went to change my shirt. She answered on the first ring.

“Hi, Viola, it’s Billy,” I responded.

“Oh, I’m so glad you called. I was thinking about going to church today, but had no idea where to go. Do you know of any place?”

“Sure. I’ll come by and pick you up. Be ready in ten minutes, okay?” We were going to be late, but that just couldn't be helped. Viola was waiting for me on the sidewalk in front of the yellow house. I wasn’t sure that was such a good idea on her part, considering she was supposed to be in a protected environment, but considering that the danger from her husband was no longer an issue as far as I was concerned, I dismissed my concern. Well, almost. I took a quick glance around just to be safe, but aside from a two men standing on a street corner having a lazy morning chat over coffee, there was nothing of interest to be seen. We sped off to the Solomon house, arriving fifteen minutes after the usual starting time which meant we had probably missed the refreshments but would still catch a good part of the worship music. As we walked up to the large house, I was surprised not to hear any singing. We let ourselves in the front door and came upon an unusual sight.

People were scattered all over the living room in various poses. Some were prostrate on the floor, others knelt, a few more were pacing back and forth. A group of women were clutching each other, gently swaying and moaning. The hair on my arms raised slightly, and I shivered involuntarily. Something was definitely wrong. I caught a glimpse of Lynn sitting in a chair behind the swaying women, so I made my way to her, weaving through the bodies, trying not to disturb their intense supplications.

“What’s going on?” I whispered when I reached her.

“It’s Shirley,” Lynn said, her eyes red. “Her sister's husband didn't take too kindly to her efforts to re-establish contact with the family. He threatened her over the phone, but we thought that was the end of it. This morning, he broke into the house, drunk and talking crazy. Shirley tried to calm him down, but he pulled a knife on her, vowing to make her pay for what she had put them through. Thank God, Blair showed up for some unknown reason. Jim told me to get out, so I drove here as fast as I could and asked people to pray.”

As she was speaking, the dream I had had last night began to emerge from the edges of my memory. In it, I walked into a room and found myself surrounded by a group of hostile men. One of them pulled a knife out and started to wave it at me. Having no fear, I began to walk towards him. He hurled the knife at me, and it lodged in the left side of my head. Feeling no pain, I reached up and pulled it out, then pointed it back at him. The man and his friends backed away, afraid, and that was all I could remember. That was enough to convince me that I had to go.

I raced out the front door, leaving the hum of prayer behind me. Viola followed me out like a puppy dog, and even though I thought it unwise to take her with me, it wasn’t fair to leave her in a room full of strangers doing strange things. I didn't have the time to convince her to stay; neither did I have the time to take her back to the shelter, so foolish as it might have been, I drove off with her in the passenger seat.

A few minutes later, I spotted Cameron’s motorcycle parked on the street. The Whitehall house was quiet with no sign that anything was amiss. I wondered if anyone had bothered to call the police. Since two of them were already on the scene, perhaps it wasn’t necessary.

I carefully peered through the small window in the front door but could see nothing. I tried the door and found it locked. Then I snuck around back as quietly and quickly as I could and climbed the stairs to the deck. One of the patio doors off the kitchen was open, so I tiptoed up to the opening, listening for any sign of life or trouble. I heard nothing. As I stepped across the threshold, I saw the splashes of blood on the kitchen floor and my heart froze. This was not a good sign. My legs feeling slightly wobbly, I followed the trail of blood down the hall. It stopped outside Shirley’s room, the door of which was closed. I felt a tickle on my neck and jumped. Viola huddled behind me, her eyes wide with terror.

I breathed a sigh of relief, motioned for Viola to move back, and turned once more to the closed door. “Lord, have mercy,” I prayed and turned the door handle slowly. Please, let no one be dead. I slowly maneuvered my head through the small gap I had created in the doorway until I had a clear view of the inside. There were several streaks of blood on the carpet beside the bed, but Shirley's bedroom was empty. I was working up the courage to enter and check the closet when a loud crash from the basement shook the house.