Rick Mofina - If Angels Fall

Reed slammed his back to the door, slid to the floor,burying his face in his hands.

He couldn’t think. He was free falling. He was fired!Terminated! Blown away.

His phone rang again, but the caller hung up.

What was happening to him?

The other bottle was in the car. Untouched. Reed wipedhis mouth with the back of his hand, feeling his stubble, realizing he stillhad The Star in his hand. He read the articles about the hostage takingwith Virgil Shook, the pedophile ex-con from Canada. Molly wrote most of them.Zero about Edward Keller.

The phone rang three times. The machine clicked.

“Where the hell are you?” Molly said. “I need yourhelp here, Reed. Haven’t you heard, all hell’s broken loose. It’s not EdwardKeller, it’s some pervert from Canada. Call me! They’ve started looking for thebodies! Get your ass in here!”

Yeah, right.

Reed sat there, his eyes closed. He was drowning.Floundering in the awful truth.

He heard his phone ringing again. The machine got it.

“Tom, what happened?” His wife was angry. “We waitedat the airport for an hour.”

Airport? He was supposed to pick up Ann and Zack thismorning.

“We’re at Mom’s. Call me.” The temperature of hervoice dropped. “If you have the time.”

The new white minivan parked in the shade of a eucalyptus grove on Fulton inBerkeley near the university was a rental from San Jose. For two days now ithad been an innocuous fixture across the street, three doors down from DorisCrane’s home. Her two-story house was framed perfectly in the van’s rearviewand driver’s side mirrors.

Edward Keller watched it with the vigilance of astatue.

Occasionally he would study his reflection. He hardlyrecognized himself-clean shaven, his pale skin was tanning. The dye he hadselected worked well, darkening his short, neat hair. He no longer saw himself.He had been transformed. He had been ordained, enlightened to show the worldthe wonder of God’s Love.

I am cleansed in the light of the Lord.

After his divine work in obtaining the address fromthe hillbilly living in the Angel’s house in San Francisco, Keller went to thepublic library, and scoured the directories and other registries, learning muchabout Doris Crane in a short time.

She was widowed in 1966 and lived alone in the house,working part-time as a secretary in Berkeley’s law department. Doris had onedaughter, Ann, who had one son. He was nine years old.

Pierce Keller was nine years old.

Ann owned three children’s clothing stores in the BayArea. Keller suspected her marriage was troubled, because she and the Angelwere renting their home and living with Doris Crane. A blessing that had kepther loathsome, arrogant husband out of the way.

Keller had already met him.

Thomas the doubter.

The oaf could not grasp the meaning of his mission: helping the bereaved through the valley of the dark sun. At first, Keller didnot know Reed’s role, believing he was sent to destroy his work.

But the truth was revealed.

It was destined that they should meet.

Reed was the signpost to the third Angel. It wasrevealed to him in Zach Reed’s birth announcement. Keller found it in thepublic library’s newspaper archives, Zachary Michael Reed.

It was destined. His middle name was Michael. He wasZachary Michael Reed. Zachary, father of John the Baptist, who’s birth wasforetold to him by an Angel. John the martyred prophet who baptized Christ.

Michael the Archangel.

Finding Michael was challenging. For the past twodays, Keller saw nothing at the house, except for Doris Crane’s comings andgoings. Although he tried to remain calm and trust in the Lord, he worried. Solast night he took Doris Crane’s garbage. He probed it, finding a copy of atravel company’s itinerary for Ann reed. She had two round-trip plane ticketsto Chicago. The tickets were for A. and Z. Reed. She was attending a conferenceat the Marriott. They were scheduled to return this morning. Keller checked hiswatch. The plane had landed in San Francisco two hours ago. He was convinced hewould see the third Angel today. For Heaven continued to shower him withprotection.

Virgil Shook was the latest miracle. His arrest and shootinghad dominated the front pages of this morning’s papers. Shot him dead, somereports said.

In a church. It was preordained.

Sanctus. Sanctus. Sanctus. Keller’s mission was divine.

He was invincible.

Soon police would learn that the repulsive child abuserwas not the enlightened one. The incident was divine intervention, designed toshield Keller long enough to complete his work. He was so close to thetransfiguration.

Keller’s body tensed.

A cab stopped in front of Doris Crane’s house.

A woman got out of the rear passenger’s side, whilethe driver unloaded luggage from the trunk. The woman was in her earlythirties, attractive, very business-like.

Ann Reed.

She was tired, angry, as she rummaged through herwallet and called into the cab.

“Come on, Zach, wake up, we’re home.”

Keller held his breath.

Michael. The third Angel.

The drowsy boy dragged himself out of the car. He waswearing a Chicago Bulls T-shirt, baggy jeans, new sneakers. As his motherslapped bills into the cabby’s hand, the boy wearily grabbed a canvas travelbag and trudged into the house.

Keller watched.

His heart nearly tore free from his body.

Sanctus, sanctus, sanctus. Dominus Deus sabaoth.

Michael.

Commander of Heaven’s army! Conqueror of Lucifer!

Behold!

A prince in God’s celestial court!

Keller had gazed upon Michael the Archangel.

And he shone with the light of one million suns.

He was overwhelmed in the presence of divine majesty.Soon, he would realize his exalted mission.

The transfiguration.

The reunification with his lost children.

It was his destiny.

Keller clasped his hands together tightly, bowed hishead, touching his lips to his whitened knuckles.

Sydowski kept his promise.

Angela Donner cradled twelve white sweetheart roses inher arms, as if carrying a baby. Sydowski pushed her father, John, in hissqueaking wheelchair along the pebbled paths of the cemetery to Tanita Marie’sheadstone. Sydowski had vowed to make a pilgrimage to Tania’s grave with hermother and grandfather once her murder had been solved. It had. Her death hadbeen avenged. Her killer killed.

When they stopped at Tanita’s marker, the earlymorning sun was hitting the polished granite. It was emblazoned in the light.The grounds were silent but for the distant traffic, and John’s soft moans.Sydowski patted his shoulder.

Angela knelt, setting the flowers at the foot of thestone, kissing it as a breeze rolled through the oaks sheltering Tanita’s plot.Tears streaked her face as she caressed the epitaph tracing the sun-warmedletters of her daughter’s name. “You know, Inspector, I’ve been part of theuniversity’s bereavement group.”

“I know.”

“I have come to accept that my baby was a lambsacrificed for the sins of this world.”

Sydowski nodded. Angela continued.

“I see her everywhere in the faces of children. I achewhen I see mothers hug their daughters. I know my baby is with God. Probablymaking Him laugh. I have to carry that in my heart to survive.”

“I understand.”

“Thank you for working so hard. I know you reallycared. I just hope with all my heart you find the other children. Alive.”

Sydowski swallowed hard and closed his eyes. Wouldthere be two more deaths? Two more funerals with little coffins? He needed alead. Something. Anything. Sydowski’s pager bleated.