Famous (The Soul of the World Book 1) by David Skato (best e books to read .TXT) 📕

“That question wasn’t for me.” She confesses.

     He looks back, being careful not to get caught into the soul glaze again, shrugs it off, and walks down the aisle, continuing out the door.

CHAPTER X

The blinding sunlight reflected off the casket into Sarah Mayhew-Stanton's eyes, who was being consoled by her husband, Garry.

“Do you ever get use to funerals?” She thought as she wept. “Death is a part of life, but I keep crying and crying. I still cry for Joseph.” Before she knew it, her thoughts transformed into words. “I don’t want to bury my baby!” She fell to the ground, reaching desperately for the casket.  Garry grabs her and manages to hold her back. The pastor finishes the final verse of the scripture he had been reading.

“ashes to ashes, dust to dust.”

The casket descended into the ground as howls and moans echoed from the crowd.

Dontae’ sat beside a large oak tree on the hill above the cemetery. He thought about how the last time he saw Sandy, she was in his arms dying. He thought about how they took her life and took the chance for him to say his last goodbyes. His eyes welled up with tears as he watches the casket enter the ground. He could see Mrs. Stanton, and oh how he felt her heartbreak. He knew that she didn’t buy the story that he killed her. In his heart, he knew. The first time he had met her and Mr. Garry, a name Dontae’ always made fun of, because he didn’t understand why she called him that, he and Sandy had only been dating for about three months. Mrs. Stanton grilled him about how he better not bring her daughter home pregnant. He thought it was funny. Mr. Gary then pulled him aside and said, “This a good family. They have strong values, and you got yourself a winner with that girl.” He knew she was special. Everyone knew it. Now they all mourned her on one of the most beautiful days Hill Creek Cemetery had seen in a long time.

Ω

Roland Walsh walks out of his fifteen thousand square feet mansion and into the back of a black Lincoln town car where he tells the driver, “To the office,” and they begin to move. He takes his phone from his inside jacket pocket and proceeds to dial.

“Hi. I heard about the announcement. It couldn’t have come at a better time.”

He pauses to listen to the other end.

“I’m going to head in for a bit. Just make sure the analytics are on my desk by tonight.” He hangs up.

The car pulls directly in front of Quest Inc., and Roland steps out, buttoning his jacket. His brash arrogance is tenfold as he styles in his designer sunglasses. A flickering light over his left shoulder catches his attention. He takes a quick look but is suddenly distracted by screeching tires. He turns quickly only to see a white van speeding off into the distance. You can’t be too careful when you are filthy rich.

Calvin Talbert speeds down a country road in a white van leaving plums of dust and leaves in his trail as he races for the on-ramp to downtown Atlanta only to run directly into bumper-to-bumper traffic. “God Damn it!” he shouts. Calvin knows this city, but he couldn’t beat the traffic as he planned in this instance. He waits impatiently before finally taking an exit to the side streets.  The Santa-Claus-white-haired old man who dawned what looked like the oldest pair of glasses in existence, twists and turns on side streets like a crazed Nascar driver franticly trying to reach his destination. He swears at a few other vehicles before finally turning on a side road coming to a stop directly in front of Quest Inc. He spots a man to the right in baggy sweats and a hoodie about to cross the street, heading towards the building. He then looks to the left to see Roland Walsh stepping out of a black Lincoln town car.

Dontae waits at the corner of an ally across the street from the Quest Inc. building with a direct line of sight to the front door. His face, looking as if he hasn’t slept for days, is filled with sadness and rage.  He is startled by a door opening just in front of him. He breathes a sigh of relief when he realizes it’s only a dishwasher coming out of the back door of one of the many restaurants that lined the street. The man looks at him with an eye of suspicion. Dontae’ notices that the man sees his gun sticking out of the left pocket of his hoodie. He quickly stuffs it deeper, breaking eye contact with the guy. The man, appearing not to want any trouble, finishes emptying the large dishpan and scurries back into the door.  Detective Dontae’ would have shrugged it off, but he was now a fugitive. He had given his life to protecting and serving, and now he was on the run from the very people that swore brotherhood. And in his mind, it was all thanks to Walsh, who was going to show up at this god damned building sooner or later. Until then, fugitive Dontae’ was going to wait. A few moments pass with no real action until Dontae’ spots a black Lincoln town car approaching. This is it. That’s got to be him—Dontae’ steps from the alley and towards the car. A glimmer of light catches his attention as he is about to cross the street. It’s the same digital billboard that he noticed when he arrived to investigate Rochelle’s suicide. This time the billboard was displaying what appeared to be a commercial for a talk show.

A woman’s voice over spoke.

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