“My goodness, Gabe, it sure hot today.”

“It's not as hot as yesterday,” scanning the horizon on the ladder, I see the corn is off to a good start and soybeans are up in the fields surrounding the church. There's not a cloud in the sky. “I don't think it's noon, yet?”

Pete dips his paint roller into the paint bucket with a smile. “I still can't get over how God worked a miracle and got this paint donated to the church.”

“Who knew, changing a flat tire for an elderly couple on State Route 187 would get us twenty-gallons of good white paint. The church almost looks new. That reminds me, we need a sign for the highway, Pete. That will let everybody know we're open for business.”

“God works in many ways, Gabe,” Pete smiles. “We may get a sign, too.”

“If it's His will.” A Gibson County Sheriff's cruiser pulls into the parking lot. “It looks like Tom Autry. I wonder what he wants?”

“There's only one way to find out, Gabe.” Pete quickly puts his roller in the paint.

“You just want to quit painting!”

“I'm a little hungry, too.”

“Are you always hungry, Pete?” I set my paint roller in the bucket.

“Yeah,” Pete shrugs his shoulders.

Tom slides out of his cruiser then says, “Hi, guys. It's good to see both of you.”

“It's good to see you, Tom,” Pete winces when he shakes Tom's hand. “I've got remember not to shake hands with you.”

Tom and I shake hands. “It doesn't bother me.”

“Let me remind you, Gabe. I'm not the one who's built like the Incredible Hulk with his shirt off. You are!”

“That belly gets any bigger, Pete, you're going to look like a Buddha instead of a Pastor.”

“You guys are hysterical,” Tom laughs at both of us. “Gabe, I need your help.”

“Sure, Tom, what's up?”

“It seems that we have a gang problem in Trenton. There are two different groups doing home invasions on the poor and elderly in the High Street area.”

Pete speaks up. “I know that area, we've done missionary work through the Dream Center over there.”

I ask, “What's the M.O., Tom?”

“They kick in the back door to two of those old houses at the same time then terrorize the occupants. They're stealing whatever money and jewelry they can find at gunpoint. At least they haven't hurt anybody yet. By the time we get there, there isn't a trace of them.”

“They just vanish?”

“Yeah, into thin air. No fingerprints or footprints to speak of, they wear ski-masks, so there's no way to identify anyone. I don't know what to do.”

“Did you say there were two groups?”

“Yes, two groups of four. They hit houses away from each other to keep from waking the whole neighborhood.”

“Tom, that's an Army strategy. It's called, shock and awe. It's basically, two or more well-armed teams deploying in a silent, rapid show of force. They use precise execution to take total control of the situation. With two teams, you hit the closest and farthest targets first, then quietly work your way towards the other group. It sounds like well-organized groups, which also fits the Army.”

“You're right, Gabe! Why didn't I see that?”

“It's because you're too close, Tom. I want to visit the neighborhood to scan the area. Maybe I can spot something out of the ordinary.”

Pete asks, “I'd like to go also, Tom. I know several families on that street. Maybe I can calm down some of their fears.”

“I was hoping you would say that, Pete. Those people are on pins and needles and could use an encouraging word.”

“Let me grab a shirt, guys.” I smile then walk into the church.

~

We slowly drive down High Street to the Highway Eighty-eight intersection. I feel a shiver, the back of my neck tingles. Tom parks his cruiser in the driveway of an abandoned home. I slide out on full alert. Things don't look right; I wonder if Pete sees it. I sniff the air twice.

Pete looks at me then asks, “Feel something, Gabe?”

“I don't know, but something is wrong here. Keep your eyes open, Pete.”

“Yes, sir,” Pete turns to Tom. “I know a couple of families down the street. I'll see what they have to say.”

“Thanks, Pete.”

Tom and I continue down the street. “There are only two street lights, and neither one shines on the backyards. That's why they're kicking in the back doors.”

“That's what I think, Gabe.”

“Can we walk in the backyards?”

“Sure.”

We cut through a side yard then walk in between the homes. You can smell the fear in the air. Window curtains flash open for a moment then quickly close. Tom is right; these houses are old. The cinder-block foundations are crumbling, the back doors to all of these houses look like the originals, at least fifty-years-old. These houses look like is easy pickings. There's a fence along a set of old railroad tracks; it runs the length of the street.

“This place looks forgotten, Tom.”

“Time hasn't been kind to these people.”

“How many are original homeowners?”

“Most of them, there are a few rentals at the beginning of the street.”

“These people need a medal for perseverance, not terrorized by a bunch of thugs.”

“Is your blood boiling a little, Gabe?”

“It's starting, too.” I see two pieces of plywood under the fence in the shape of an L. “What are these boards doing under the fence?”

“I think it's something the county put in to keep the stray dogs out of the neighborhood.”

Sliding the top board back a little, I see a plethora of footprints in the dirt. “This is how they vanish into thin air, Tom.”

“What!” He bends down and slides the board back a little more. “I need to get Forensic's out here.”

“Not now, do you feel like someone is watching us?”

“I'm a cop; I feel it every day!”

“I understand, but this is different. I think it's how the perp's always one step ahead of you. If you bring forensics out here, you'll give away what we found.”

“Okay, but what's the next move?”

“Let's keep walking.” Tom and I start back to the road.

The moment I step on the pavement, a street-preacher with ragged blue jeans and a Budweiser cap steps up on an old Prairie Farms milk crate. His scraggly gray hair sticks out from under his hat. He pulls a pint of whiskey from his back pocket and takes a big swig. The preacher looks right at Tom and I and with a southern drawl he hollers, “Brothers, you must repent for all of the good that you have done. The evil one is coming soon; he wants his revenge! He will collect a pound of your flesh for all of the good deeds done against him. Repent, brothers, repent!”

“How long has that street preacher been here?”

“Who knows, Gabe.”

“He's not preaching the Bible, far from it. Look at that scar on the side of his face, notice the jacket.”

“An Army field jacket doesn't make him a suspect.”

“I know, Tom, but he sure is out of place. Do you have a map of the burglaries at your office?”

“I sure do.”

“I'd like to see it; maybe we can figure out where they'll strike next.”

“Let's go get, Pete.”

We head back down the street. I see Pete preaching away under an old Oak tree with many of the residents standing around. Pete exclaims, “Let me pray for all of you. Dear heavenly Father, please let Your presence flow through this neighborhood. Send Your heavenly peace to be with everyone here during these troubling times. Together, we will find who is responsible and bring them to justice. In Jesus' name. Amen!”

Tom asks, “Is he always like this, Gabe?”

“I've known Pete for almost thirty years. I think he can put a smile on a dead man's face. It's one of his many God-given abilities.”

“Well, he sure helped them. These people haven't smiled that much in weeks.”

Pete is slowly making his way through the crowd then over to us. “Did you two figure it out?”

Tom answers, “Maybe, we're heading to the station to check something out. Are you ready to go?”

“Sure,” Pete smiles. “I found out a couple of things, too.”

“Hey, Pete, I want you to hear this street preacher at the end of the road.”

“They talked about him. I've got to hear this.” Pete rolls his window down when we get closer.

The preacher is still hollering, “Eternal damnation will be on all of you when the evil one comes. The prince of darkness will collect all of your souls then drag them to the pit of hell!” He points his finger right at us.

Pete smiles at me then says, “Oh, yeah!”

“I think so, too. I wonder how that street-preacher is involved?”

“That's what you and Tom are here to find out.”

~

After we visited with the Sheriff's on duty, Pete, Tom, and I walk into a room with a huge, beat up conference table in the center. This room has seen hundreds of cases, and the table has absorbed the brunt of too many all-night investigations with its cigarette burns and coffee stains. In one corner, it looks like the coffee pot caught fire. Now, files on each robbery and a large grid map of the entire street cover the table. It starts at Second Avenue then dead ends into Highway Eighty-eight. Tom has the railroad tracks and fence marked along with all twenty-four houses on the map. There's a red X on the homes.

“If I ever get murdered, Tom, I want you on the case,” Pete smiles at him. “What a layout.”

“This helps me to think, plan, and hopefully figure it out. Whatever it is.”

“Well done, my friend. Take us through your timeline.”

“Well, the attacks started on Saturday, May twenty-seventh with the first two homes on both ends of the street. Nine days later, on June fourth, they got the second homes. Eight-days later on June twelfth, it was the third home in a row. That's when I thought I had a pattern on them. They would attack the fourth home for sure. We ran patrols every five minutes. I had a sheriff in the backyards of both houses. That's when they changed the pattern. On June twentieth, they robbed the houses on the other end of the street.” Tom wipes his face with both hands. “I felt like a complete idiot. We were at the wrong end of the street.”

“No need for that, Tom. It goes back to what I've been saying, somebody, is watching everything you do on High Street.”

“You think it's that street-preacher, don't you Gabe?”

“Let's just say, I think he has something to do with it.”

“Why, Gabe?”

“Because he's not who you think he is, Tom.”

“Who do you think he is, Gabe?”

“It's not who I think he is. It's what I think he is.”

“I'm not sure I understand.”

“I'll explain it the simplest way I can. He's a demon from the Spirit Realm, sent here to destroy lives and win souls for Satan. He's the one controlling the two teams whose robbing those homes.”

Tom laughs then says, “You're crazy! Do you believe this guy, Pete?”

“Believe me, Tom, I do.” Pete smiles at him, hoping he'll understand. “Tom, in Ephesians chapter six, verse twelve, it says: "We do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this age, against spiritual hosts of wickedness in heavenly places." That verse is talking about the Spirit Realm and the evil forces that can enter into our world. They live in our world, too. We fight them every day."

“How much money and jewelry have they taken?”

“That's the crazy thing, all together it's barely four-hundred-dollars and five wedding rings.”

“So, the only motive is to terrorize the families, destroy their hope, and spread fear. All weapons of Satan.”

“This is getting us nowhere, do you have an idea on where they'll strike next?”

“Yes, I do. The perps will switch the pattern again and hit the fourth house on both sides this time. How many days since the last attack?”

“Today is the eighth day. That's why I came to see you this morning. What did you find out, Pete?”

“Two things, the first thing is, that street-preacher scares the crap out of them. The street-preacher showed up shouting gloom and doom just days before the first attack. The neighbors have called the Trenton Police on him twice, but nobody will swear out a complaint. So, he keeps on preaching. The second thing is, all the older kids on the block have recently turned on their parents. Staying out all hours, won't come for days at a time, and when they do, they're completely disrespectful.”

“Well,” Tom sighs. “We're no closer to catching them.”

“I think we are, Tom, but you can't change a thing. Keep sending those cruisers by every five minutes. But when it gets dark tonight, we'll add a new element to the situation. Two cruisers in a row will drop off you and me at Highway Eighty-eight, we'll sneak down the street and quietly set up surveillance in the backyards of the fourth homes. You will have to get out of that Khaki, Tom.”

“No, problem. We're going Ninja style.”

~

It's now nine-thirty at night and darkness has enveloped High Street. I'm kneeling in the shadows of a storage shed in the backyard of the fourth house on the left side. I have a full view of everything, including the fence line beside the railroad tracks. I'm waiting to hear from Tom. He should be in place in a few minutes. This case still has him puzzled, I know he doesn't believe in the demon sent here to ruin lives. But I know it's true.

Tom buzzes in on the walkie-talkie I'm wearing. “In position, Gabe.”

“Roger that.”

“Have you seen anything?”

“Just the man who lives here getting him a bowl of ice cream.”

“That sounds good.”

“Not for me, I'm a salty-snack kinda guy. Do you have the Calvary ready?”

“Yes, sir, five cruisers with three Sheriff's in each are within a block.”

“That ought to do it.”

An hour later, the street-preacher shows up in his usual spot. His preaching must be a nightly occurrence. The people who live closest to him turn out their lights. “The preacher is back, Tom. Keep your eyes open.”

“Roger that. Don't that guy ever sleep?”

“Apparently not. The street-preacher didn't walk by me, did you see where he came from?”

“No, he must have come up from Second Avenue.”

“I wonder. Wait, there's movement down the railroad tracks. They're moving towards the fence. I see the boards disappearing. Eight figures dressed in black just climbed through the fence. The teams are assembling in the dark. The leaders stand and check out the street. Both leaders turn towards the preacher. He nods to them then continues spouting his fear-mongering. He's involved somehow, Tom.”

“Yeah, this gives him a great alibi, too. Everybody hears him hollering on the corner.”

“The teams are moving into position.”

“It would be nice to catch one of them.”

“It sure would. Team two just cut across the street, and heading your way.”

“It's time to party, Gabe.”

“Roger that.” I take my two, twenty-six-inch, Asp Police Batons from my duty belt and pop them open then stop to pray for a moment. “Dear Father in heaven, please, I don't want to hurt anyone. Let this end peacefully. In Jesus' name. Amen.” I quickly make it to the corner of the fourth house.

I see them silently move in precision along the fence to the back door. All of the attackers stay low while the leader rises to check the door. The leader turns toward the others and nods. He raises his leg to kick the door with the gun in his hand.

I step into the dim rays of the streetlight, creating a colossal silhouette. “Not tonight, my friends.”

“Abort, abort!” The leader screams in a young man's voice.

I step forward when the leader raises the gun towards me. With one quick swipe with my baton, I knock the firearm from his right hand. He screams when I hear his thumb snap. The others scatter towards the fence. When the leader turns to run, I toss the other baton, and it catches him in the knees and causes him to stumble then fall forward. I land right on him with a thud.

A shot rings out from across the street. “Tom, are you all right?” I holler on the radio.

“Yeah, the shot went into the air. I got the leader.”

“Same here, call in the Calvary.”

Sirens and flashing blue lights fill the night sky. After handcuffing him, I turn the leader over then rip off the ski mask. It's a young man maybe thirteen or fourteen, blond hair and pimply face. He screams, “You have no right to do this to me.”

“Yes, I do. I'm Special Deputy, Gabriel Hope. It's nice to meet you.”

Three sheriff's with flashlights come running around the house. Sheriff Jimmy Waycaster says, “Great job, we got him from here, Gabe.” They snatch him up and start towards the cruiser.

When the light hits his face, one of the mothers whose watching what's happening screams, “No, Stevie, it can't be you!” She begins to sob. “Why would you do this?” He won't look at her and gets in the cruiser.

Three other sheriff's lead a young woman to another cruiser, she might be as old as Stevie, but I doubt it. I scan the street for the preacher; he's nowhere in sight. He's done his job.

~

Two hours later, I'm standing in the conference room studying the grid map of High Street. There has to be another way to get in there beyond the railroad tracks, but I don't see it.

Tom walks in and slaps me on the back. “I can't thank you enough, Gabe, for all of your help.”

“Have they talked yet?”

“No, but sooner or later, they will. Did you know the attackers were kids?”

“I thought it might be, from the footprints I found under the boards.”

“Why didn't you say something?”

“After what I said about the street-preacher, would you have believed me?”

“Probably not. What are you looking for?”

“There has to be another way in leading to the railroad tracks. It will help us to find the others and possibly the street-preacher. What's this circle near the end of the map?”

“That's an old, huge storm drain. It's there in case the levee breaks at the lake on Cedar Street. It's so big even you could walk through it.”

“Is there an old abandoned church in that area?”

“Yeah, Lessenberry Baptist Church is two doors down from where it comes out by the lake. It closed about thirty years ago. Somebody bought it about ten years ago and tried to make it a wedding chapel. It might have lasted a year or two before it closed again.”

“Followers of Satan, love to destroy and use old churches for their ceremonies, it gives them more power. That's where we'll find them.”

“Let's go.”

~

Tom slowly pulls the cruiser in front of the church. “Wow,” he frowns. “I don't remember it looking like this, Gabe.”

“This is what happens when evil takes over a good church.”

“Let's go,” Tom unstraps his gun.

“You don't need your gun, Tom, they're kids.”

“What about the street-preacher?”

“Bullets won't kill him; he's immortal. If they could, I'd cut him in two with an AR-15, lengthwise, then send him back to the Spirit Realm in two pieces.”

“I like the way you think, Gabe.”

“Hey, results-oriented.”

We slowly get out of the cruiser then walk to the front of the church. One of the front doors is on the ground. The other is covered with the number of the beast, 666, and upside down crosses painted in blood red. Both handrails lay on the ground. Above the doors is a stained glass window depicting Jesus on the cross, it's filled with huge holes where stones with thrown through it. If there was anything they could do to desecrate this church, they did it.

I slowly open the other front door, there's a light on in the back of the church. “Is there electricity in here?”

“Let's find out,” Tom feels the wall for a switch. When the lights come on, the devastation is incredible. “You weren't kidding, Gabe.”

Pews are scattered everywhere, beer cans and whiskey bottles cover the floor, a large cross is upside down in front of the altar. Words of filth, bigotry, and hatred are painted all over the walls. There's a picture of a goat head behind the altar. A pentagram on the floor is there for Satanic ceremonies. It brings tears to my eyes.

A young man walks out of the back room. “Help us, please.” He stumbles then collapses on the floor.

Tom rushes to his side. “Look at the beating he took.”

Quickly, I run into the room and find the other five, unconscious on the floor. “We need ambulances, Tom. The other five are in here, but barely breathing.”

Tom grabs his radio then hollers, “Dispatch, this is Captain Autry. I need ambulances sent to the Lessenberry Church on Cedar Street. Put out an APB for a man in an Army field jacket, blue jeans, and a Budweiser cap. He's approximately six-feet tall with gray hair. Send in the Calvary, Alice.”

“Roger that! They're on the way, Captain.”

“Nice try, Tom, the street-preacher is long gone. But he made sure to leave them behind for us to find. He's done his job well, and he knows it.”

“You know, Gabe, I'm starting to believe you.”

~

Even though it was a horrible night, I'm still up before the sun rises. It's a miracle God gives us every day that not many people see. I can't believe I had to help Tom fill out arrest reports for eight children between the ages of ten to fourteen. Six felony armed robberies and who knows how many more charges will be piled on. Scanning the eastern sky, I see a figure standing at the edge of the field. I don't have to wonder who it is, the stench of brimstone fills the air.

The street-preacher hollers, “Hey, Gabe!”

Slowly, I walk towards him. “That's Mr. Hope to you.”

“Oh, are you full of pride now? If so, that's something I can work on.”

“You keep thinking that,” I snarl at him. “What do you want?”

“Just a friendly visit, Gabe. You know, we're tired of you interfering with all of our hard work. Something may have to be done about you, my friend.”

“Like What?” I laugh at the thought.

“Oh, we have our ways.”

“Let me tell you something, demon. If I catch you around here again, I'll rip your head off with my bare hands and put it where the sun don't shine.”

“What good would that Do.” He laughs this time.

“Not much, but I'd love to do it!” I hear Pete's trailer door shut and look that way. When I turn back, the preacher is slowly fading away.

“See you around, Gabe.”

“Thanks for the warning. I won't be looking forward to it.”

~

One month later.

I'm standing in front of Judge Clayburn Peebles at the Gibson County Courthouse in Humboldt. Behind me are the seven young men and one young woman who committed the attacks. To my right, in an elegant blue suit, is the Prosecuting Attorney. To my left, is a battery of Defense Attorneys who are exquisitely dressed. I feel out of place in my blue jeans and a navy blue pocket tee shirt. But I was the one who requested this pretrial hearing.

Judge Peebles is reading the letters Pete, and I wrote pleading for the Court's mercy. He slowly lays them down then focuses on me. “Mr. Hope, weren't you part of the team that caught them?”

“Yes, sir, I was.”

“These are passionate letters from you and Pastor Helms. I understand that both of you have been ministering them and they're willing to make any restitution in these cases, but these are six felony crimes committed against good people.”

“I understand, your honor. But the man who exploited and coerced them into these crimes was a master manipulator and truly evil. His only intent was to ruin their lives. If you give them full sentences, the next thirty-five years of their lives spent in prison of some sort. When they finally get out, there will be six felony convictions hanging over their heads. No one will ever give them a chance at a decent life. There's a ninety percent chance that all of them will end up back in prison. That evil man will have won. That's why I'm begging the mercy of the court for their lives.”

Judge Peebles smiles at me, then looks at the Prosecuting Attorney. “Mr. Waverly, is there anything you can do?”

“I think we can find something to agree on,” he sighs.

“Mr. Hope,” Judge Peebles smiles at me. “Captain Autry has been telling me about the good work you've done in West Tennessee. I want to thank you.”

“You're welcome, sir.”

“Please continue to.”

“If God wills it."