Path Of The Wicked Part 1

PATH OF THE.

WICKED.

Jennifer Stanley.

Magnolia's Marvels.

The author would like to thank the fine men and women of the Henrico County Sheriff's Office, especially Dawn Watson-Browning for answering questions and directing me to the correct personnel and Major Carlos Talley for giving me a fascinating and informative tour of Jail West. It has been one of the highlights of my writing career.

Do not set foot on the path of the wicked or walk in the way of evil men.

Avoid it, do not travel on it; turn from it and go on your way.

For they cannot sleep till they do evil; they are robbed of slumber till they make someone fall.

They eat the bread of wickedness and drink the wine of violence.

Proverbs 4:1417 (NIV).

1.

In the month of Nisan in the twentieth year of King Artaxerxes, when wine was brought for him, I took the wine and gave it to the king. I had not been sad in his presence before; so the king asked me, "Why does your face look so sad when you are not ill? This can be nothing but sadness of heart."

Nehemiah 2:1-2 (NIV).

Cooper Lee was not having a good day. She had spent the morning at an elementary school in the Far West End, trying to coax their aged copier, a Toshiba e-Studio28, back to life. But the machine had given its all and no amount of replacement parts, duct tape, or prayers were going to keep it running.

Kneeling on the floor next to her toolbox, a soiled rag, and the copier's rectangular back panel, Cooper examined the dirty developer tray. In removing the part, her hands and forearms had gotten covered in toner. As she worked, she'd rubbed her face in vexation, knowing that it would be impossible to resuscitate the spent machine.

Unaware of the splotches of gray and black ink on her cheeks and nose, Cooper sighed. She knew that the school didn't have the funds in their budget to purchase a new copier, and they'd desperately need one soon as summer break was ticking to an end.

"Hey!" a voice nearby whispered. Cooper looked up to see a girl dressed in a Hannah Montana T-shirt and white shorts standing over her.

"Hi." She smiled. "Aren't you supposed to be on vacation?"

"My mom works here," the girl replied. "I had to help her carry stuff into her office." She continued to study Cooper's face with interest. "You look like you have the boooooobonic plague. I learned all about that for my summer reading a.s.signment." She crossed her arms across her flat chest and peered at Cooper intently. "Are those black boils?"

Cooper laughed. "No, I do not have the bubonic plague. I probably smeared some ink from the copier on my face. Happens all the time."

The girl frowned. "Gross. I don't want a dirty job when I grow up. I'm going to be a famous singer and I'll live in a huge house, get driven around in a super-big limo, and own, like, twenty horses." She stretched out her skinny arms to emphasize her point. "Then my mommy can quit her job. She's the school nurse and I think what she does is gross, too!" The girl lowered her voice to an awed whisper. "She gives people shots! With needles!"

Examining her reflection in the shiny surface of an adjustable steel wrench, Cooper grinned and began to wipe away the ink on her face using a clean rag. "Well, I'm happiest when I'm getting messy. My hands are usually covered in ink, garden soil, or cookie dough."

"You're weird," the girl whispered and then looked back over her shoulder as though her mother might be close enough to overhear her rude remark. "But you're still pretty," she amended and then skipped away.

Cooper replaced the back panel of the defunct machine, taking her time turning the screws. This was the only part of her job at Make It Work!, an office-machine sales and repair company operating out of Richmond, Virginia, that Cooper disliked. She hated telling nice people, like the secretary in the front office, that she had been unable to fulfill their expectations and could not repair their machine.

Dusting off her uniform shirt, Cooper snapped her toolbox closed and stood. She patted the lid of the copier. "You've given them your best. Time for you to retire to the greener pastures of the recycling facility."

Gathering her tools, Cooper steeled herself and walked down the hall to the front office. The secretary took one look at her doleful expression and said, "Oh, dear. You don't look like you've got happy news for me."

"No, ma'am, I'm afraid I don't."

The secretary paused for a moment, unable to keep herself from staring at the repairwoman's unusual eyes. The left eye was blue, but such a pale shade of blue that it was almost colorless. The right eye, however, was star-tlingly green. It immediately called to mind a meadow of emerald gra.s.s in the peak of spring, dappled by sunlight and bright circles of marigolds. The woman's face was quite lovely, though her nose was a bit too long and angular and her dirty-blonde hair, which was cut in a flattering style, could do with some highlights. The secretary took in Cooper's athletic figure with a p.r.i.c.k of envy.

She could use a bit of makeup, the secretary thought and then blinked, embarra.s.sed at having stared at the repairwoman so blatantly.

"Oh, my." The secretary shook her head slightly as the enormity of Cooper's prognosis sank in. "Are you sure you can't fix our copier? We really need to get a few more months out of that machine."

"It's totally gone, ma'am. I would have been lucky to get you two or three more minutes, let alone months. It's got nothing left to give."

The secretary nodded, unsurprised by the revelation. "I know you did your best. You always do and we appreciate the extra time you've given us by keeping that 'ole dinosaur runnin' on a wing and a prayer." She rose and, signing Cooper's work order, walked her to the front door.

"It's going to take more than a bake sale to raise funds for a new copier." The secretary's expression was bleak. "And with school starting in two weeks, I don't know what we're going to do." She wrung her hands anxiously.

"The way I see it-you've got two choices. You can soak a mess of cakes in a barrel of rum and hope that the folks who show up for your bake sale write you checks with a whole lot of zeroes. Or," Cooper smiled wryly, "you could lease one of our machines until you raise the money for a new one."

The secretary brightened. "A lease?" She paused to consider the idea. "I'm fond of the rum cake plan, too, but a lease just might get us through the crisis. Thank you, Ms. Lee. You're an angel! Please call me with the rates as soon as you're able. We need a copier in here as of yesterday." Then her face grew solemn and she lowered her voice. "And you'll take away the old one for us?"

Cooper nodded to the older woman, said she'd call back later with leasing options, and hopped into a black van with the Make It Work! logo splashed across both sides in bright red lettering. As she drove back to the office, she remembered that the new employee Mr. Farmer had hired to handle the doc.u.ment-shredding side of the business would be at work today. Initially, Mr. Farmer had filled the need by having the son of his widowed next-door neighbor work over the summer, but the young man was returning to college for the fall, so Cooper's boss had placed an ad in the Richmond Times-Dispatch ten days ago. However, he'd ended up hiring a cousin recently relocated from northern New Jersey. As a result, no one had met the mysterious new addition to their team, and all three of Mr. Farmer's staff members were curious to discover what kind of person would become their coworker.

"Thank goodness he didn't hire some pageant princess," Angela said, giggling as she told Cooper about meeting the new employee while Cooper was at the elementary school.

Angela, the office manager at Make It Work!, wore a typically tight pencil skirt, a low-cut blouse, and an armload of vintage bangles. As Cooper looked at Angela's platinum-blonde bob, held firmly in place by a wide pink headband and half a can of Aqua Net, she noticed the presence of a beauty mark on Angela's cheek that had never been there before.

"I'm not sure there are too many pageant princess interested in a career in doc.u.ment shredding," Cooper said. Tapping her own cheek with her index finger, she teased Angela. "You're really channeling Marilyn Monroe today, huh?"

Angela batted her false eyelashes as she examined her reflection in a compact that was never far from reach. "I wanna see if Mr. Farmer notices." She leaned over her desk and whispered, "And if he doesn't, then I sure hope that gorgeous creature gettin' dressed in one of our uniform shirts does." Her eyes gleamed.

"So tell me about the new guy." Cooper leaned comfortably against Angela's desk. "I can see you're fit to burst over him."

Angela placed her hands over her ample bosom. "Lord, I don't know what I did to deserve such tasty eye candy! This boy is a stud c.o.c.ktail made up of one part soap opera star, one part professional baseball player, and three parts Chippendale dancer." She frowned. "He's a bit too young for me, unfortunately. You know you're old when you wish you were forty again, but I can still look." She wiggled her pencil-drawn eyebrows. "And if he asked me to dinner, I wouldn't be in any hurry to say no."

At that moment, Mr. Farmer stepped out of his office at the end of the hall. The owner/manager of Make It Work! was a short, stocky, balding man resembling the actor Danny DeVito. A quiet, reserved individual, he was a kind and generous employer. Angela had been flirting with him for years, and though he occasionally displayed a hint of fondness for her in return, he had never officially asked her out on a date.

"Good morning, Cooper." Mr. Farmer straightened his tie, which was embroidered with cobalt computer monitors on a field of yellow. "Our new employee is in the locker room. His name is Emilio Calabria and word has it that this young fellow is an exemplary salesman. He's sure to increase our burgeoning secure doc.u.ment-destruction division. Ben will be showing him the ropes over the next few days." He smiled shyly at Angela. "Let's all go out of our way to make him feel at home."

"Oh, I'll make him feel real welcome, sir." Angela saluted their boss, her cherry-red nails brushing her powdered forehead.

"Ah, yes . . ." Mr. Farmer shuffled his feet, looking slightly daunted by Angela's enthusiasm. Hearing footsteps approaching from down the hall, he turned and held out his hand. "And here he is now. Emilio, you've met the rest of our small staff except for Cooper Lee. Cooper, this is Emilio, the man who'll soon be shredding paper all over town."

The first thought that ran through Cooper's mind was that Angela's a.s.sessment of their new coworker was completely accurate. Emilio wasn't tall, but his lean and muscular build gave him the appearance of height. His black hair fell in shiny waves that framed his olive skin and twinkling dark eyes. When he smiled at Cooper, flashing a row of square, white teeth and sensuous lips, she decided that his was a face meant for television and movie screens or the pages of GQ. His hands were wide and strong and as he crushed Cooper's in a steely, wet grip, his smile turned to a snort.

"Lady, you've got some awesome eyes!" He laughed as they shook hands. "Man, I mean they are wicked cool. They remind me of that pretty blonde actress-she was in the Superman remake."

"Kate Bosworth?" Angela guessed.

Emilio pointed at her. "Smart and cla.s.sy." He turned to Mr. Farmer. "I can see who runs this show."

"And I can see why you're such a good salesman. You're just as smooth as a stick of b.u.t.ter brought to room temperature." Angela batted her false eyelashes. "I'd never have taken you for kin of Mr. Farmer's. Just how are you related again?"

"Emilio's my aunt's boy," Mr. Farmer answered, clearly displeased over being so overshadowed by his cousin. "My own folks died when I was in my early twenties. Now all I've got left is my big sister and Aunt Mildred."

"And me!" Emilio clapped his employer on the back with enough enthusiasm to jostle a few teeth loose. "You're not gonna be sorry about bringin' me aboard, boss. I'm gonna work my a.s.s off and bring in so many new clients that you won't know where to spend all your money!"

"I could think of a few ways to spend it," Angela murmured coquettishly.

Emilio beamed at Mr. Farmer and then slung his arm around Cooper's shoulders. In a conspiratorial fashion, he whispered, "This man hired me when I was down on my luck. Is he awesome or what?"

"Best boss I've ever had," Cooper replied, inhaling Emilio's powerful cologne.

She extricated herself from her hunky coworker's semi-embrace and feigned the need to grab a tissue from Angela's desk. As Cooper pulled a few from the floral box, she noticed the secretary was gazing at Emilio with adoration. Mr. Farmer also seemed to have taken note of Angela's demeanor, for he hurriedly took Emilio by the elbow and offered to accompany him to where Ben waited in the garage.

"Catch you beautiful ladies later!" Emilio said in his thick, Jersey accent and strutted off.

Angela watched the men walk away. "Ain't he some-thin'?" She panted, fanning herself with a brochure from an ink cartridge and toner company.

Cooper shrugged. "Yeah, he's something, all right." She shouldered the woven straw bag she had recently purchased from Target and told Angela she'd be back in an hour.

"You meetin' that nice boy from your Bible study for a steamy lunch date?" Angela puckered her lips.

Cooper's neck grew pink. She put a hand over the telltale flesh and shook her head. "No, he's been real busy lately. And like I told you last week, I'm not sure if we're dating. We've only been out together a few times."

Angela waved her off. "You've kissed, honey. On the lips. More than once. So if that ain't datin', then you're the friendliest friends I've ever heard of!"

Cooper ordered a Happy Meal from McDonald's and took hungry bites of her cheeseburger with extra pickles with one hand while manipulating the traffic around Short Pump Town Center. The mall was unexpectedly busy for a weekday, but then Cooper realized that the mothers disembarking from their SUVs and plush minivans were no doubt shopping for back-to-school supplies. As she parked her red pickup truck, which she had fondly dubbed Cherry-O, Cooper watched a pretty woman of about the same age press a b.u.t.ton on her car key, causing both of her mini-van's rear doors to slide open. Her two young children hopped inside, relieved to be out of the scorching August sun. Each child held onto a balloon from the shoe store and as the mother lifted her daughter into her booster seat and carefully tied her purple balloon to the armrest, the little girl threw her arms around her mother's neck and covered her face with tender kisses. The mother laughed and kissed her daughter back on the bridge of her small nose. Witnessing this sweet exchange, Cooper felt a twinge of sadness stir in her heart.

"That's what I want, Lord," she whispered into the quiet of her truck cab. "I want to love someone like that. I want to be loved like that." Surprised and irritated to find herself fighting back tears, she stuffed the last four French fries into her mouth, grabbed her c.o.ke from the cup holder, and marched into the mall.

Almost furtively, she pulled open the heavy door to the nail salon next to Macy's and, after being greeted by the receptionist, mumbled, "I'm here to see Minnie."

"We know you." The Vietnamese woman behind the reception desk smiled as Cooper retrieved a pair of flip-flops from her handbag. "You a regular customer now." She then led Cooper toward the back of the salon and gestured at one of the voluminous leather pedicure chairs. "Pick your color and sit in second chair on left," the woman directed her. "Minnie coming soon."

Cooper selected a conservative mauve polish and then settled into her chair. She pressed the red b.u.t.ton on the attached remote in order to start up the chair ma.s.sage and gazed at the other women in the salon. Only months ago, Cooper would have laughed to consider herself among the women who routinely sought a beauty treatment for their feet. However, once she had been initiated into the world of pedicures, she quickly became a bit of a junkie. She now had a pedicure twice a month and had bought several pairs of sandals to show off her neatly polished toes. One of the first things she did after work was to kick off her heavy boots and slide her colorful toes into a pair of sandals or flip-flops.

"h.e.l.lo, Miss Cooper," a pet.i.te young Vietnamese girl greeted her and then turned on the water in the pedicure tub. She shook a jar of green granules into the water and then accepted the bottle of nail polish Cooper handed her. "Your sister come, too?" she asked.

Cooper nodded and then glanced in the direction of the front door. "Here she is now."

Ashley Lee Love strode into the salon like a supermodel flaunting her stuff on the catwalk. She was wearing pink Capri pants st.i.tched with navy blue whales, a wide leather belt that accentuated her narrow waist, and a flimsy white blouse. Her accessories included three strands of pearls, matching pearl earrings, a glimmering diamond tennis bracelet, and a Versace hobo purse that looked as though it contained a bowling ball.

Flipping a shimmering lock of golden blonde hair over her tanned shoulder, Ashley inspected the array of available nail polish colors as though she were a surgeon selecting the appropriate instrument for a complicated case. She held up a pair of pale pinks in almost identical hues to the light and then meticulously painted her big toe with a stripe of color from each bottle.

"Should I pick Italian Love Affair or Argenteeny Pinkini?" she called across the salon to Cooper.

For some reason, the first name caused Cooper to think of Emilio, her new coworker. "The second one," she replied firmly.

Ashley handed the bottle to her nail technician and then slipped off a pair of elegant sandals with a wedge heel. Sliding gracefully into the pedicure chair, she opened her purse, pulled out one of several magazines rolled up inside, and showed it to her sister.

Cooper stared at the beautiful little girl gracing the cover of Parents magazine. She was blonde, freckled, and had the deepest dimples that Cooper had ever seen. "Cute kid," she said and then looked at Ashley's expectant face. "Why are you showing me that?"

"I need to start doing some research," Ashley answered with an enigmatic smile.

"On parenting?" Cooper was confused.

Ashley wiggled excitedly in her seat. "Of course, silly. How else am I going to get ready for when the baby comes?"

Cooper's mouth came unhinged. She stared at the angelic, pig-tailed child on the cover of the magazine and felt a stab of jealousy. Ashley, who was exactly a year, a month, a week, and a day younger than Cooper, was married to a handsome and wealthy husband and lived in an elegant mansion in the most desirable section of the suburbs. She divided her time between playing golf and tennis, shopping at boutiques and high-end department stores, and organizing an endless parade of philanthropic events. And now, the woman who already had looks, love, and luck was going to have a baby.

What about me? Cooper asked silently and stared forlornly at the bubbles surfacing around her feet. I'm the older sister! I have no husband, no children, and I spent five years of my life with a man who dumped me for another woman! When will it be my turn?

"It feel okay?" Minnie inquired as she rinsed Cooper's feet and began to ma.s.sage her calves using a fragrant orange lotion.

"Yes." Cooper forced a smile to her face. She suddenly felt ashamed of being envious of her sister. Touching the cover of the magazine Ashley held, Cooper looked into her sister's lovely cerulean eyes and said, "A baby. That's wonderful, Ashley. I'm real happy for you."

2.

Those who look to him are radiant; their faces are never covered with shame.

Psalm 34:5 (NIV) Ashley reached over in her ma.s.sage chair and swatted Cooper with her magazine, causing her nail technician to look up in alarm.

"I'm not pregnant yet, Coop," Ashley hissed. "Don't go jinxing me!" She returned her feet to their former position without even glancing at the befuddled technician. "But Lincoln and I have decided it's time. Daddy and Mama would be so tickled to be grandparents and . . . Oh!" She jabbed her fingernail at an ad in the magazine. "Look at this adorable ba.s.sinet! I am going to have the most beautiful nursery in the whole city! I've already brought home a dozen wallpaper samples to try out. I'm leaning toward green toile with the-"

Cooper interjected with a shake of her head. "Aren't you putting the cart just a bit in front of the horse?"

Ashley paused and then narrowed her eyes defensively. "Lincoln and I are young, happy, and in love. What's going to stop us from having the most perfect, precious little baby anyone's ever laid eyes on?"

Ignoring Ashley's testiness, Cooper replied, "Nothing, I suppose."

After all, you've always gotten everything you've ever wanted, Cooper thought sourly, reflecting that while the Lees hadn't had the means to spoil their youngest child, Ashley had managed to charm people into buying her sweets and trinkets from the time she could talk. At school, she had always been the prettiest, most popular girl in the cla.s.s. With each report card that came home, Cooper waited for her chance to finally outshine her sister, but it had never happened.

After high school, Ashley's partial scholarship to Hollins University allowed her to cross paths with her future husband, Lincoln Love, at a polo match attended by central Virginia's most affluent and influential families. Naturally, Ashley had been invited by a sycophantic sorority sister who also happened to be a congressman's daughter. The poor girl had hoped that by bringing Ashley along, the young men who couldn't get near Ashley would settle for flirting with her. Ashley was in her element and had no difficulty juggling a dozen coquettish conversations until Lincoln rode up on his sleek gray mare. The horse cleared a path through other would-be suitors and Lincoln offered the lovely and popular co-ed a gla.s.s of champagne from a bottle tucked in his saddlebag.

"It was love at first sight!" Ashley always said upon telling strangers about meeting Lincoln. "He even had a crystal gla.s.s in that bag!"