Dominion (112 page)

“I’m afraid he’s making the wrong choices,” Dani said. “He thinks he can’t wait for justice, yet final justice won’t come until the last day.”

“You are right, my sister,” Lewis said. “Life in that world never fulfills God’s perfect design or man’s deepest longings. At its best, it hints of them and kindles longing for them. Your brother longs for what will be. But if he takes things into his hands now, his attempt to accomplish God’s justice will be an act of injustice. If your brother’s pain leads him to look to Elyon for healing, the pain will serve him well. If he allows his pain to become his master, it will destroy him—and perhaps others.”

Clarence drove out east of Gresham, down a deserted back road leading into a thick grove of trees. He took out the HK53 he’d taken from Ollie’s trunk. He inserted into the standard magazine twenty-five .223 rounds, then aimed toward a prominent marking on a tree and pulled the trigger.

The weapon fired, but only once. The shell casing didn’t eject. He removed the casing manually and got set to practice firing again.

At 10:50 A.M. Friday, Clarence walked into Councilman Norcoast’s office with a cake box in his left hand and a long black leather bag slung over his right shoulder. He walked in with six other men, four black and two white. A couple of them Sheila recognized. She noticed none of them seemed in a party mood.

“Hello, Mr. Abernathy. Gentlemen.” She waited for introductions, but Clarence didn’t oblige.

“I’ve kept the secret,” Sheila said. “I have to take off in just a few minutes myself. You’ll never believe it,” she said to Clarence. “A photographer from the
Tribune
called me this morning and she wants to take some pictures of me, for a possible feature of a Portland working woman. Can you imagine that? She asked me to meet her at Pioneer Square at eleven-fifteen. So I’ll need to leave you gentlemen here. Mr. Gray’s in his office. He and the councilman are on the same conference call. As soon as you see the light go off on line two,” she pointed to the phone, “you can just knock on Mr. Norcoast’s door. I told him I’d be leaving just before eleven, and he’s expecting you.”

Sheila turned on the answering machine, got together a few things, and headed out the door. The six other men sat quietly while Clarence positioned himself by the desk, waiting for the light to go off.

As soon as Norcoast put down his phone, the men walked in his office door. Clarence stood behind them, and under the distraction of their movement, he took two objects out of the cake box and affixed them to the wall.

“Gentlemen.” Reg Norcoast appeared slightly flustered. “What a pleasant surprise. I knew I had an appointment with Clarence, but…Mr. Fletcher, hello, good to see you.” Norcoast extended his hand to Leesa’s father. He didn’t reciprocate.

“What’s all this about, Clarence?” Norcoast asked.

“I was just admiring some of your pictures, Councilman.” Clarence pointed to a couple of pictures on the wall. Norcoast walked a few feet closer and stared, red faced.

“Which one are you looking at?” Clarence asked. “The picture of you and me with that tie of yours? Or the one right next to it? The one with your arm around Leesa Fletcher?”

“No. No.” Norcoast looked at Leesa’s father. “That’s not true. I mean…where did that photo come from?”

Clarence pointed now to the photo of himself standing next to Norcoast. The councilman remembered how that photo had reappeared before. He remembered taking it out of the frame and burning it. This was the same picture, but…what was that shadow on his forehead?

“Nice tie, Reg,” Clarence said. “Neat little symbols there. Say, Harley isn’t that the African symbol of masculinity?” His brother walked closer.

“Yes, it is,” Harley said in the murky tone of a hanging judge.

“And what’s this tattoo on the councilman’s forehead?”

“That’s the African symbol for justice,” Harley said.

“Well, Norcoast,” Clarence said. “That’s why we’re all here this morning. We’ve come to get justice.”

Norcoast’s eyes shifted wildly around the room.

“You know Mr. Fletcher, Leesa’s father,” Clarence said, gesturing, “and I think you’ve met Leesa’s older brother Solly.” From the way he filled out his Georgetown letterman’s jacket, the boy had obviously pumped his share of iron. “And, of course, you know Pastor Cairo Clancy from Ebenezer and Jake Woods from the
Trib.
You remember my brother Harley here, the professor at Portland State? And you haven’t met Stu Miller, father of Gracie Miller. Name ring a bell? See, Leesa’s gone from this world, and so’s Gracie and Dani. So
we’re
here on their behalf.”

“Tell me what’s going on,” Norcoast said. “I don’t like your tone. What’s happening here?”

Harley glared at Norcoast. “It’s an African tradition that the male family members of female victims privately face the man responsible for the crime. The Qur’an says it is honorable to be the tool of justice.”

“Now wait a minute,” Norcoast said to Harley. “You’re still chairman of the black studies department at PSU, right? I helped fund that department. I’ve gone to bat for it several times. We’re on the same team. We’re—”

“We’re what? Brothers?” Harley spit on the floor. “That’s what I think of you,
brother.”

“But you can’t just charge into my office and threaten me,” Norcoast said to him. “You’ll be fired. You’ll—”

“Nah, I’ve got tenure. Wouldn’t expect you to understand this justice stuff, Norcoast. It’s a black thing.”

Norcoast turned back to Clarence. “Have you gone crazy, Abernathy?”

“Well, maybe I have,” Clarence said. “But some of us here have lost faith in the justice system, with people like you using it for your own purposes. So before you go to court, we want to get in some old-fashioned country justice.”

“Woods,” Norcoast looked at Jake. “For crying out loud, talk some sense into him.”

Jake shrugged. “These men have some very serious charges against you. If they’re right, you’ve done terrible things to their families. Clarence is my friend, and he asked me to come here today and stand with him. I don’t know exactly all he’s got in mind, but I trust him.”

“Reverend Clancy,” Norcoast said, eyes pleading. “Tell them this isn’t the place for justice. We have laws and courts for that. Tell them!”

“I think justice belongs everywhere,” Clancy said. “I’m a Christian Bible preacher, not a Muslim, but it’s hard to argue with the Qur’an on this one. Or with African tradition. See, justice is part of every religion and culture. Eye for an eye; tooth for a tooth.”

“You can’t let them hurt me,” Norcoast said to the pastor in a frenzied voice.

“Dani Rawls was a good friend, a wonderful sister,” Clancy said. “She was a sheep in my flock. And so was Leesa Fletcher once. I baptized that girl. You led her astray, Councilman. You’re a wolf in sheep’s clothing. My own deacons do some disciplining from time to time—so don’t you tell me what I can and can’t do. Seems to me you could use a little disciplining.”

Norcoast searched the other eyes, from Leesa’s father to her brother to Gracie’s father. He found even less sympathy.

“What do you want from me?” Norcoast asked Clarence.

“The truth,” Clarence said. “Telling us the truth is your only hope. First, did you sleep with Leesa Fletcher?”

“No. No!” he said. Clarence stepped toward him. The councilman put up his hands. “Okay. Yes, yes I did. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He looked at Leesa’s father and brother, backing away from them until he hit the front of his desk.

“And were you the father of the child Leesa was carrying?” Clarence asked.

“Yes. I think so. That’s what she said anyway.”

“Did you have her killed with the drug overdose?”

“No! I’d never do anything like that. I’m no killer. I swear it!”

“You think you can pull our chain,” Harley said, taking a step toward him, “like we’re a bunch of dumb shoeshine boys?”

“No, no. I don’t. I don’t think that.”

“Did you order the hit on Leesa’s house that ended up killing Dani?” Clarence asked.

“No! I’ve never tried to hurt anybody. Not Leesa, not anyone.”

“Did you put Gracie up to framing me? Or did you have somebody give her bad crack to kill her?”

“No. Never!”

Clarence moved up within inches of Norcoast and put his hands on the councilman’s suit lapels. “I don’t think I believe you. How about the rest of you?” He turned and looked at the faces, either angry or stoic. “Maybe we should start off getting some justice for what he did to Leesa.”

“Okay Norcoast,” Clarence said fifteen minutes later. “Call in Carson Gray.”

Norcoast, trembling, pressed his intercom. “Carson, I need you in my office. Yes, well, tell him you’ll call him later. Get in here. Now.”

Twenty seconds later Carson opened the door and entered Norcoast’s office, then stopped dead in his tracks, surveying his surroundings like a second lieutenant walking into a room full of majors and colonels. He looked at his boss, who was disheveled and agitated, dripping with sweat.

“Carson,” Norcoast said, “tell them everything you know about Leesa Fletcher. Everything.”

“What’s going on here?” Gray asked.

“These,” Clarence said, hand outstretched, “are the family members of Dani Rawls, Leesa Fletcher, and Gracie Miller. We’re here to get justice.” Gray’s eyes moved slightly, just a little twitch. “We know about how you paid off Shadow, Gracie, and Mookie,” Clarence said.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Gray said.

“We know everything,” Clarence said, borrowing a page from Ollie’s book.

“Then you don’t need me, do you? If you have something to say, say it to my lawyer. You’re not getting anything from me.”

“Okay,” Clarence said, “let me put it another way. Tell us everything, or I’ll kill you and your boss.”

Gray’s eyebrows rose half an inch. “
Kill
us? You’re too funny, Abernathy.”

Clarence reached over to the long black leather case, unzipped it, and took out the HK53. He cradled it in his arms and stared at Gray. Jake and Clancy exchanged glances, looking shocked and uncertain. The ante had suddenly upped. Jake stepped toward Clarence, then hesitated, stopping still five feet away.