The Lyons Den

Book 0: Shelton Heights

by Kendra Norman-Bellamy

Genres: African American; African American Christian; Christian Fiction

Synopsis

Lieutenant Stuart Lyons is a single father and a well-respected veteran law enforcement officer. In addition, he serves as head of security at the ever-popular New Hope Church in Atlanta, GA and above all, he loves the Lord. When sudden pandemonium strikes his "normal" life and he begins receiving threats from an unknown person who only identifies himself as "Dr. A.H. Satan," Stuart's life is turned upside down. This faceless stalker seems to know everything about Stuart: where he lives, where he works, where he worships, who his friends are and, most unsettling of all, that he has a son whom he adores.
A series of disturbing events sends the Dekalb County Police Department into over-drive, trying to find the recently released, elusive madman who is now suspected of seeking long-awaited revenge on the officer who was responsible for putting him behind bars. Bizarre happenings—some explainable, and others that yet remain mysteries—have been known to find their way into the lives of many of the residents of the infamous Shelton Heights subdivision, and apparently, it's now Stuart's turn. Will his faith and the prayers of the righteous help put an end to his distress, or will the Legend of Shelton Heights swallow him whole?

Release date: April 24, 2012

Publisher: Urban Books

Print pages: 304

Sample

Stuart awakened early Saturday morning, just as he’d done for the past five days. The knowledge that someone had come onto his property while he was asleep, and managed to do such extensive damage to his car without stirring him, made him a bit paranoid. Amateurish letters to the station were one thing, but disrespecting his property was too close for comfort; and it made him feel more uneasy than he had admitted to anyone.

Standing at his bedroom window, Stuart peeped through a small opening in his security blinds that the fingers of his left hand provided. In his right hand, he held a model 4586 Smith & Wesson .45-caliber semi-automatic pistol. It was just after five o’clock in the morning, and the sun was still laying low. In his mind, Stuart suggested that his harasser did the same. He’d been given a replacement vehicle, and there had been no signs of a follow-up appearance by his wannabe stalker, but if the decision for a repeat performance hit the faceless, nameless man, so would a bullet.

Regardless of Sergeant Bowden’s remarks about the late Mr. Shelton Heights and the namesake upscale community that was built with his money just days before the self-proclaimed sorcerer was found dead on the grounds thereof, Stuart refused to consider his plight had anything to do with “the legend” surrounding the neighborhood. Though it was believed that the heart attack suffered by eighty-eight-year-old Shelton Heights was arbitrary, the autopsy was inconclusive, leaving many to wonder if an armed robber had frightened the old man to death. Mr. Heights was believed to be the most well-to-do citizen of Atlanta, Georgia; but when his body was found, he was carrying no money and no wallet. The truth behind his death died with the warlock, but over the years, it seemed that his spirit still lurked, and chose to haunt those who had taken advantage of the affordable housing in a neighborhood whose domiciles he never intended to sell at such a deflated cost.

Ever since inception, the Shelton Heights subdivision had been riddled with folklore. Because of it, dwellers moved out as quickly as they moved in. Most of the people who purchased homes there did so just to resell them to new transplants into Atlanta who’d not yet heard the myth, hoping to make a sizeable profit. As fabulous as the houses in the neighborhood were, superstitions made them difficult to sell. Therefore, structures that could easily vend for $300,000 in other areas of the city had to be sold for half as much in Shelton Heights. It was a bargain for those who dared to dispel the myths; but the better part of those who at one time took on the challenge would eventually move out because of uncanny, ambiguous occurrences.

Stepping away from his lookout spot, Stuart sat on the side of his bed, debating whether or not he should try and get a little more sleep. As with most Saturdays, he was off from work, and generally, he took advantage of the opportunity to sleep in late. But this week’s mishap would not allot him a smidgen of peace, and Stuart was sure that lying back down would only accumulate wasted time that he could use to do something constructive, or at least, enjoyable.

Still in his pajamas, and with nothing but socks on his feet, Stuart retrieved a silver key from his nightstand drawer and stepped from his room as quietly as he could. His four-bedroom home was a spacious one, and he wasn’t overly concerned that he’d awaken his son who slept in one of the rooms upstairs. But for the past eighteen months, he had also shared a home with his sister, Kenyatta, and she was a shallow sleeper. She’d been that way ever since a bitter divorce forced her to move from Jacksonville, Florida, to Atlanta, Georgia.

Like Stuart, Kenyatta rarely worked on Saturdays, and Tyler often spent much of the weekend horseback riding with his friends in Greene Pastures, a champion horse breeding farm owned by Stuart’s friend, Hunter Greene, who was also the father of one of Tyler’s best school buddies.

Passing his sister’s room door and rounding the corner at the end of the hall, Stuart used the single key to unlock the door that led to his favorite room in the house: the den. That space was kept locked because it was his personal sanctuary: a place of work—a place of worship. The place where he felt his prayers were most heard. Stuart never could quite single out one thing that made it his preferred room, but he had concluded that much of it was due to the solitude that he often found there, especially on his days away from the chaos that frequently surrounded his line of work.

Fully furnished in neutral colors right down to the eggshell couch, oatmeal walls and deep tan coffee tables, the den had such a welcoming feel that Stuart could almost sense it hug him when he entered. A stocked entertainment console was nestled against one wall beside a five-tier glass-encased bookshelf, and in a corner nearest his door was a sturdy maplewood desk that housed his flat-screen Gateway computer. The den served as not only a place of privacy, but also a place of worship. It was here where Stuart found a level of closeness to God that seemed to escape him in other areas of his home.

The way Stuart figured it, he had at least two hours before Kenyatta would awaken and possibly three before Tyler would begin begging for a ride to Greene Pastures. His eyes burning from the lack of sleep, Stuart powered up his computer and waited for his home screen to appear. Among other things, he was what his sister called a “big kid” who collected the latest tech gadgets. Stuart carried a cell phone on each hip (one for business and one for personal use), had the latest iPod, digital camera, and computer software programs available on the market. Had he not turned to law enforcement as a career choice, no doubt, he would have become an electronic engineer.

Glancing at his watch, Stuart noted that the time was five forty. It was still early, but he hoped his favorite online friend had reason to awaken prematurely today, too. For the past four months, he’d been chatting frequently with Candice Powell, a woman who he had yet to meet. Stuart had been apprehensive about registering with the popular online Christian matchmaking site, but after watching televised advertisements about its success rate, he made the decision to give it a try. After connecting with three women, none of whom held his interest for more than two weeks, Stuart was ready to call it quits. It was then that Candice contacted him by way of a note left in the email box associated with his online profile.

Stuart almost didn’t reply. After all, the three women before her sounded like they had good sense too. Talisa, Anita, and Marilyn were a gynecologist, librarian and associate pastor, respectively. By their third correspondence, Talisa had sent him a highly inappropriate photo of herself wherein she gave the gynecological breakdown of each part of the full-color image. By week two of Stuart’s contact with Anita, she had warned him not to mess over her because the mistake of doing so had cost her last boyfriend a “knife-carved tattoo that he didn’t have to pay for.” And the day before Stuart ended his affiliation with the great Evangelist Marilyn Lassinger, she had sent him an email that prophetically detailed how the Lord was commanding him to marry her in exactly three hundred days so they could work together in ministry, and so he could become the “Boaz” she’d been praying for in her times of “laying before the Lord.” Stuart had been on secular dating sites that were less stressful.

Before typing in his note, Stuart pulled his reading glasses from his desk drawer and placed them on his face. He rarely used them, even when reading, but his tired eyes needed the support today.

At an even height of six-foot-tall and with a skin tone that he’d once heard a woman refer to as “a minute before midnight,” Stuart epitomized tall, dark and handsome to the letter. He belonged to one of the fastest growing, most esteemed churches in the state of Georgia and, arguably, he held one of the most revered jobs in the country.

“Why do you need to find a woman on the Internet?” His sister, Kenyatta, had asked this question many times.

In fact, Stuart had asked himself the same question, wondering why it had been so difficult for him to find true love. Most of his closest friends were either married or in exclusive relationships with women who seemed to be in it for the long haul. Hunter and Jade Greene had been married for two years and were so much in love that, even to other lovers, it was almost sickening. A year ago, trouble had rocked Pete and Jan Jericho’s thirteen-year marriage, but ever since Pete returned from Iraq and had retired from the Marines, they’d been inseparable. Even Jerome Tides, Jade’s brother, and self-proclaimed bachelor for life, had his choice of women.

Ironically, Jerome, a former bad boy who served ten years in prison for a part he played in an armed robbery, was Stuart’s best friend of them all. The two of them were often teased about their friendship. A law officer forming a brotherhood with a man who still had thirteen years of probation to serve just didn’t happen every day. But despite his past, Jerome had two women currently vying for his attention; one was Stuart’s own sister, and the other was Ingrid Battles.

Ingrid was Jade’s best friend from Virginia who accepted the offer to be Jade’s executive assistant in her booming private psychology firm, and had moved to Atlanta a few months ago to fulfill her duties. Kwame, who was Stuart’s friend by way of Hunter, was single, but he was unattached by choice. Kwame wasn’t ready to settle down, and he only dated women who felt the same.

For Stuart, twelve years of bachelorhood was more than enough. He wasn’t just looking for a woman—he was in search of a wife. The single father had once been married and, for the most part, enjoyed it. His marriage to Natasha “Tasha” Lyons, who had since chosen to go back to her maiden name of Dennis, had lasted for nine years. But the strong love that was needed to sustain their relationship fizzled somewhere between years seven and eight. As with most dissolved marriages, the split was bitter at first, but it had long since become amicable.

Upon the initial separation, Tyler lived with Tasha, and spent weekends with Stuart. Shortly after the child’s fourth birthday, Tasha, a registered nurse by profession, connected with Nurse Finders, a company who placed transitory health-care workers in facilities across the nation, whenever the need arose. The opportunity was too great for her to pass up. Her connection with them opened the door for Tasha to substantially increase her income while doing one of her favorite things: traveling.

Because of the demand, Tasha’s assignments kept her away for stretches of six, eight, and sometimes, twelve weeks at a time while she temporarily filled positions in hospitals as far away as Seattle, Washington, and Boston, Massachusetts. Stuart was the more stable parent, and together, they agreed that he would take on physical custody of Tyler. The job came with no regrets from Stuart. His son meant more to him than life itself. And Tyler’s bond with his mother remained strong through lengthy weekly telephone chats.

Since the divorce, Stuart had been no stranger to dating, but serious love interests had been few. Women found him attractive, and indeed, he enjoyed their admiration and companionship. But there always seemed to be a long-term personal agenda hidden behind their short-term perfect personalities. And his lack of finding Ms. Right couldn’t be blamed on a sparse harvest. New Hope Church had a bumper crop of available women. Finding a saved woman wasn’t a problem. Finding a genuine one was.

The idea of the traditional family appealed to Stuart, and he desired to give marriage another try, but having been there and having done that before, he needed to be sure that his next wife was sent from God. After all, it was no longer just about him. He had a son to consider, and loving Tyler wouldn’t be an option for her. He hoped that she—whoever she was—would require the same of him for her children, if she had any.

At Stuart’s age, he figured that whatever woman he ultimately partnered with would have at least one child. He had to be realistic in his thinking. Stuart knew that he’d never date a woman too much younger than he, and there was a good chance that a sister in his age bracket would have been married before, or at least have a child that was the result of a previous relationship. And, besides, he couldn’t expect something of her that he couldn’t give in return. Whoever married him would become an instant mother, so he was prepared to become an instant father as well. Oddly enough, the woman who was currently holding his interest was thirty-six, had never been married, and had no dependents.

Candice: Hey, you! Good to hear from you.

Stuart had been so occupied with his own thoughts that it startled him when the note from Candice popped up on his instant messenger screen. He liked it better when they chatted this way. There was less waiting time than with emails. Instant messenger was the next best thing to talking on the phone, which was something else that he and Candice hadn’t yet done. A follow-up message appeared, and Stuart immersed himself in her words.

Candice: Yes, I’m up, believe it or not. I just logged on the computer to print out an answer sheet and saw your note. I have a ton of papers to grade, and I have to prepare a test for my students to take on Monday. Since I have a full day at church tomorrow, I thought I’d rise early today and get this stuff knocked out so that I can have the latter part of the day to relax. What got you up so early on an off day?

Stuart hadn’t shared with Candice any of what had been going on with him and his harasser. He’d come close to mentioning it to her in a previous chat session, but he chose not to for reasons he hadn’t yet admitted. Stuart was captivated by Candice, but didn’t know why. It wasn’t based on her physical makeup. He’d never met her in person, and frankly, from what he could tell by the personal information on her written profile, Candice didn’t really have the bodily manifestation of a woman most men would be attracted to. True enough, her headshot depicted the face of an attractive woman with a magnetic smile. But her biographical sketch told what one never would have guessed from her photo. Detailed information included the descriptive words, “vertically challenged” and “more to love” and Stuart knew what those phrases meant. It was just a politically correct way of saying, “I’m short and fat,” traits not often revealed on a dating site.

Her honesty was refreshing, and Stuart was drawn to the woman living on the other side of his computer screen. Candice shared his passion for cultivating children, his appreciation of the arts, his enjoyment of the outdoors, and most importantly, his love for Christ. Nothing about her seemed bogus or pretentious, and the ample dimensions of her heart overshadowed any qualms he might have about the length of her stature and the breadth of her body.

Stuart: I’ve been dealing with a possible stalker and until we find out who he is or what his agenda is, I probably won’t sleep too well.

Stuart typed the words without giving it a second thought; but he paused before clicking on the button that would deliver the message to Candice. Once the message was sent, Stuart sat back in his chair and held his breath in anticipation of her retort. For a few moments, there was no response, and all he could hear was his own heartbeat.

Candice: When you say “stalker,” are you referring to a fan, as in someone who is overly infatuated with you? Or do you mean an enemy, someone who is out to do you harm?

It was the question that Stuart dreaded, but if a relationship was possible between the two of them, she might as well know all the facts now.

Stuart: From the looks of things, it’s someone who has it in for me. It started a couple of months ago with me getting letters and phone calls, but Monday morning, the tires on my car were slashed.

Stuart imagined that, on the other side of the screen, Candice’s eyes were bulging.

Candice: Letters? Phone calls? Slashed tires? This sounds serious, Stuart. Why am I just hearing about it? We’ve been chatting for more than a couple of months. Why didn’t you tell me before now?

He could see the hysteria in her words. Stuart closed his eyes and then reopened them again.

Stuart: Because I was afraid of this.

Candice: Afraid of what?

All the while that Stuart typed his response, he wondered if he was doing the right thing by baring his soul, but not once did the momentum of his fingers break as they typed on his keyboard.

Stuart: I was afraid that you would freak out on me and then conclude that you didn’t want to be involved with a man who is possibly being hunted by a psychopath.

For a long while after he sent his reply, no words came back to him. Stuart counted the seconds and wondered how painful the punishment for his honesty would be.

Candice: So is that what we are? Involved?

Only when Stuart saw Candice’s words appear on the screen did he remember to breathe. His chest felt tight, like he hadn’t exhaled since sitting back in his chair after sending her the initial message about the violation of his property. Stuart stared at her question for a short time and then slowly placed his fingers back on the keyboard.

Stuart: I don’t know. Are we?

Candice: Don’t ask me. You’re the one who said it. I teach math, not English, so I’m not into a lot of word interpretation or the dissecting of sentences.

A grin parted Stuart’s lips and then stretched them across his face, displaying white teeth that seemed whiter all because of his skin’s hue. In all the months they’d been chatting, he’d never felt as though they were flirting with each other. This morning, he did. Maybe it was time to move to a new stage in their undefined relationship.

Stuart: Why don’t we talk more about it and see? He hoped she’d agree.

Candice: Talk? You mean over the phone?

He nodded his head as if she could see him.

Stuart: For starters, yes; but I do have some vacation days coming to me. With your permission, I’d like to come to New York and meet you. Maybe we could have dinner?

He ended the last statement with a question mark, hoping that doing so would prevent Candice from feeling pressured.

Candice: Let’s chat about it some more later. Meanwhile, I’d better get back to grading these papers, or my evening won’t be as free as I planned.

Hers wasn’t quite the response that Stuart was hoping for, but he found Candice’s hesitation to be refreshing. It was good to know that she didn’t jump at the first opportunity to meet him. He would bet his last dime that the other three before her would have.

Stuart: Okay. But can I at least have your number so I can call you sometime?

Hearing her voice would be a nice consolation prize.

Candice: I’ll tell you what. You give me your number and let me give you a call.

Stuart laughed out loud, and his heart fluttered. Four months had passed since their atypical introduction, and he felt like his site membership was finally paying off. As he typed in his cell phone number, Stuart found himself praying that she’d use it soon. He sent his good-bye message and yawned as he prepared to shut down his system.

Candice: Stuart?

The one-word call from her appeared just before Stuart clicked the icon that would have disconnected his Internet. Seeing it perked up his tired body like a jolt of caffeine.

Stuart: Yes?

Candice: Promise me you’ll be careful, okay? I try not to worry about you, but I do. I’ll be praying for you that our all-seeing God will send His ministering angels to protect you and your son from any evils that seek to do you harm.

Stuart was unprepared for the joy that raced through his body. Moisture glossed his eyes, and fine bumps decorated the full length of his arms. Taking a moment to collect himself, he placed his fingers on the keyboard for his final response.

Stuart: Thanks, Candice. You can’t imagine how much it means to me to have your concern and your prayers. I’ll be careful. I promise.

“Come on in, Stu. You look tired, man. What you been up to?” Hunter Greene stepped aside so that Stuart could enter his massive five-bedroom, three-bath home.

“I’m all right.” Stuart looked around. No matter how many times he visited this showplace of a dwelling place, it enthralled him. With its high ceilings, shiny hardwood floors and expensive artwork, the house was so immaculate that it looked virtually unlived in. “Just woke up too early, that’s all.”

“Woke up early? Man, you’d better take advantage of these Saturdays that you have off.” He looked beyond the open door and then back at Stuart. “Where’s Tyler?”

“He saw Malik, Kyla and the others and headed straight to the pasture.” Stuart released a brief chuckle. “Bet you didn’t know, when you started breeding horses, that what you were actually doing was preparing a weekend day camp for Malik’s friends.”

Hunter laughed with him. “Naw, man, it’s cool. The kids get to have fun, and the horses get the exercise that they need all at the same time.” He sat on the sofa opposite Stuart and sobered. “Any word on the cat that slashed your tires the other day?”

Shaking his head, Stuart replied, “Not really. They’ve pretty much ruled out the high school kid who I first suspected. Turns out that his mom sent him to live with his father in Jersey after he got locked up for that fight. His old man has a tight rein on him, and that boy hardly has the freedom to leave the house, let alone leave the state, which is what he would have had to do in order to mark up my car. I still don’t necessarily see him as innocent, though.”

“How come?” Hunter asked as he got up from the couch and walked into the kitchen.

Stuart raised his voice to be certain that Hunter could hear his reply. “He could easily have had some of his boys do it. I mean, he was a part of a school gang, and if he’s really ticked about being shipped off to his dad’s, he could have conspired with some of the other kids who are still here, telling them to seek revenge on his behalf, you with me? It wouldn’t be at all farfetched for him to be indirectly involved in this whole mess.”

“I see your point.” Hunter reappeared from the kitchen, handed Stuart a glass of cola and then returned to his seat to polish off the glass of ice cold milk he’d been drinking when Stuart arrived. “If the police have ruled out this kid you suspect, then they must have someone else in mind. Do they?”

“No. At least, not anyone that they’ve mentioned to me.”

A knock on the door invaded their private time.

“You expecting a yard full of kids today?” Stuart asked in the middle of a yawn.

“No, but that doesn’t mean I won’t end up with a full yard.” Hunter laughed. “That’s probably your boy, Jerome. He said he was coming over today. We were thinking of going out back for a little game . . .