Read Online The Hand of Mercy (A Porter Brown Journey) by Tobin Wells - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Tobin Wells
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the quiet, 30- minute drive, Porter had time to reflect. What did I just do ? Why did I intervene ? All he had seen was a guy getting rough with his girl. He had passed up dozens of street fights where one guy was beating the hell out of the other and did nothing. Why was this time different ? Was it because a woman was involved ? Probably , he thought.
How man y more are out there like this one, he thought. If this douche bag was controlling Beth, who was able to remove herself whenever she wanted, yet chose to stay, how many others who are more dependent, are being completely manipulated ? Saint Paul’s Damascus road conversion was now in Porter's mind. As Paul's sudden blindness had been used by God to give him his life’s true purpose, Porter's bruised groin had opened his eyes to his life's work. Now to refine the edges , thought Porter, as he offered a word of thanks to his maker.
As expected, Connie immediately welcomed Beth into her home. Over the next few weeks, Porter continued to see Beth at The Holy Mother. She would always smile sweetly and buy his first pint of Black and Tan. After a few months though, Beth no longer showed. When he asked Connie about her, all he got was that she had "met someone." He prayed she was in a good relationship and that the beneficiary of his first rescue would have good reason to trust again, and just maybe intervene on behalf of those in similar trouble. She would.
Chap ter 6
Drinking with the Devil
November 2011
Porter’s instincts drove him to Building 1 in the heart of the State Capitol complex. Despite their perpetual economic challenges, the West Virginia beauracrats allowed the limestone, marble, and gold domed Capitol building to showcase their ability to misappropriate funds. The near replica of the U.S. Capitol could not match the power that its larger, but shorter D.C. cousin emanated. Still, Porter felt his senses absorb the control which radiated from the complex.
The Friday before Thanksgiving week brought holiday engaged pedestrians and bus loads of civic-minded students to 1900 Kanawha Boulevard East for their annual history lesson on how incompetent state governments work. Ever cognizant of surveillance, Porter used the ample crowds to cover his reconnaissance. He knew the fight would not start here, but understanding his enemy’s camp would provide options if so needed.
As he casually strolled the Capitol halls, Porter located room 26-E with the placard boldly stating, James Holland, Office of the West Virginia Attorney General. Those words abruptly halted his desultory manner as a cold sweat ran down his back. Fighting the urge to flee, Porter steadied himself. Although he knew the appearance of the state’s top law enforcement officer very well, this field trip was designed to take the abrasive edge off of his first personal encounter by acclimating himself to Holland’s scent, gait, and aura.
When the clock tolled five bells, the Capitol police gave notice to all visitors that the government buildings would be closing in one hour. As they finished their announcement, the conference room doors to Porter’s left opened and a gaggle of staffers filed out. Following behind in an Armani suit far beyond the mea ns of any state employee, walked a supremely confident James Holland. The cold sweat once again journeyed down his back as Porter alternated glances between his smart phone and Holland’s sunken blue eyes, chemically aided blond hair, and long, sauntering strides. Waves of expensive cologne stayed in Porter’s nostrils long after Holland passed by him and entered his office.
*****
Holland was collected by his driver at the rear of the complex at 8:30 p.m. As he tailed the people's attorney, Porter was careful to keep three cars between him and Holland’s black SUV as it made its way down Washington Street, crossed the Kanawha City Bridge, and continued southeast on Kanawha
How man y more are out there like this one, he thought. If this douche bag was controlling Beth, who was able to remove herself whenever she wanted, yet chose to stay, how many others who are more dependent, are being completely manipulated ? Saint Paul’s Damascus road conversion was now in Porter's mind. As Paul's sudden blindness had been used by God to give him his life’s true purpose, Porter's bruised groin had opened his eyes to his life's work. Now to refine the edges , thought Porter, as he offered a word of thanks to his maker.
As expected, Connie immediately welcomed Beth into her home. Over the next few weeks, Porter continued to see Beth at The Holy Mother. She would always smile sweetly and buy his first pint of Black and Tan. After a few months though, Beth no longer showed. When he asked Connie about her, all he got was that she had "met someone." He prayed she was in a good relationship and that the beneficiary of his first rescue would have good reason to trust again, and just maybe intervene on behalf of those in similar trouble. She would.
Chap ter 6
Drinking with the Devil
November 2011
Porter’s instincts drove him to Building 1 in the heart of the State Capitol complex. Despite their perpetual economic challenges, the West Virginia beauracrats allowed the limestone, marble, and gold domed Capitol building to showcase their ability to misappropriate funds. The near replica of the U.S. Capitol could not match the power that its larger, but shorter D.C. cousin emanated. Still, Porter felt his senses absorb the control which radiated from the complex.
The Friday before Thanksgiving week brought holiday engaged pedestrians and bus loads of civic-minded students to 1900 Kanawha Boulevard East for their annual history lesson on how incompetent state governments work. Ever cognizant of surveillance, Porter used the ample crowds to cover his reconnaissance. He knew the fight would not start here, but understanding his enemy’s camp would provide options if so needed.
As he casually strolled the Capitol halls, Porter located room 26-E with the placard boldly stating, James Holland, Office of the West Virginia Attorney General. Those words abruptly halted his desultory manner as a cold sweat ran down his back. Fighting the urge to flee, Porter steadied himself. Although he knew the appearance of the state’s top law enforcement officer very well, this field trip was designed to take the abrasive edge off of his first personal encounter by acclimating himself to Holland’s scent, gait, and aura.
When the clock tolled five bells, the Capitol police gave notice to all visitors that the government buildings would be closing in one hour. As they finished their announcement, the conference room doors to Porter’s left opened and a gaggle of staffers filed out. Following behind in an Armani suit far beyond the mea ns of any state employee, walked a supremely confident James Holland. The cold sweat once again journeyed down his back as Porter alternated glances between his smart phone and Holland’s sunken blue eyes, chemically aided blond hair, and long, sauntering strides. Waves of expensive cologne stayed in Porter’s nostrils long after Holland passed by him and entered his office.
*****
Holland was collected by his driver at the rear of the complex at 8:30 p.m. As he tailed the people's attorney, Porter was careful to keep three cars between him and Holland’s black SUV as it made its way down Washington Street, crossed the Kanawha City Bridge, and continued southeast on Kanawha
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