Black Diamond: The Fourth Missing Bullet by B. Frank Hall

Author:B. Frank Hall [Hall, B. Frank]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: B. Hall and Associates
Published: 2017-05-30T07:00:00+00:00

Wednesday, March 8th, 8:20 a.m.

Nashville, Tennessee - Marshall Donnelly-Combs Funeral Home

Joe nervously stole a glance behind him looking for who knew what. He covertly parked in the back lot of Marshall Donnelly-Combs Funeral Home. His bravado thinking was to sneak in, get what he needed, then sneak out, all without being seen. Five minute’s tops. Joe was pumped up.

However, it was the small things in life one tended to overlook, and Joe’s take-no-prisoners plan was already in the weeds. He could hear his mother now, Do not break the rules, she would tirelessly repeat this mantra when Joe was a child, making him say it repeatedly, burning it into every individual cell his body carried.

She would often tell Joe stories, where a person ended up with bad fortune because of not following the rules. If she heard about one of Joe’s schoolmates doing something bad, she would expound upon and exaggerate the story to the point where a sermon at church was more palatable. When she finished, Joe would be so distraught he found himself apologizing for a deed he’d never done.

As diverse as her stories were, she would always close them with the same ending, And this kid ended up like he did because . . . why, Joseph Alexander Seger? Joe would supply the answer, the one and only answer, if he wanted to make it into life’s next moment unscathed by further discussion of life lessons, Because he didn’t follow the rules.

Now, at this moment, today of all days, his mother’s morality-instilling stories were pinching away at his brain.

This was when Joe spotted the sign.

He found the back entrance and quickly walked to the door. When he reached for the doorknob, he noticed a sign above the door. The message, long ago stenciled now the paint cracked and faded, paralyzed him. This sign was his only barrier from the thumb drive he sought.

“I certainly don’t need this shit,” Joe said aloud after reading the sign.

He recognized that his hands were sticky, his mouth tasting like grammar school glue past. The several cups of coffee he’d downed at Randall’s had his heart racing. He was terrified of the corpse, and he had no idea what he was going to do once he got inside the godforsaken building. His bravado pump had turned into a mama’s-boy lump.

A deep breath, and pushing the sign out of his mind, Joe reached for the door handle. He noticed an angry car horn, several blocks away, he guessed. He pulled the unlocked door open. He walked inside, the heavy metal door slamming behind him, and Joe stood as still as an Egret bird, thinking, I sure need to piss.

The metal door closed with a solid mechanical click. It was dark, black dark. Joe stopped walking. He threw his arms out to protect himself, like he might fall into the deepest of pits, all six foot three of him. He opened his eyes wide until his vision adjusted somewhat to the darkness, a soft light filtering in from somewhere.

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