Fated Dinner Part 1:

Chapter 11

Chapter 2:

It was a couple months later when Thomas felt something else completely rock his world.

There was a sharp, powerful knock on Thomas' office door. Thomas yawned and glanced up at the digital clock on his computer screen. It was barely past noon. Sighing he closed the window that showed the football game and straightened up in his chair, double-checking that his nose wasn't bleeding.

"Come in," he said, in what he hoped was a gentle tone.

The large, oak-colored door swung in, and in walked Harry. He was a huge ox of a man, and walked with a power that he commanded by his mere step. It wasn't just his walk either. Harry spoke in a deep, reverberating voice. Honestly, Thomas was terrified of the man. Not that he even attended their church, but Harry had a way of accomplishing ridiculous feats without a scratch.

Harry was an ex-cop in his mid-fifties, and he was known around town as the one man who wasn't afraid of anyone or anything.

Once Harry had responded to a call about a local, Ron Mason, who had taken up a shotgun and was threatening to shoot any law enforcement that showed up. Reportedly, Harry had driven up, gotten out of his cruiser, not even putting on his vest or taking out his twelve gauge. Once Ron saw it was Harry who had showed up he'd dropped the gun and locked himself in the bathroom, terrified.

That was just one such example of Harry's being. In another, rather infamous case, he'd driven down a street full of drug dealers, blasting a happy tune out of his car speakers. It was well-known that the locals of these streets would shoot at passers by for the heck of it, and cops were practically wearing a target on their backs. None of that had even given Harry pause for thought and he rolled slowly through the streets, blasting the song at full volume. They hadn't stopped talking about the crazy act for a week straight. Thomas could still recall the lyrics to the little song.

I'm a policeman dressed in blue

Here are some things I like to do

Direct the traffic in your town

Help to keep you safe and sound

It's my job, and I like it fine

No one has a better job than mine.

I'm a policeman dressed in blue

I want to be a friend to you

You can see me everyday

I will wave my hand and say

It's my job, and I like it fine

No one has a better job than mine.

The initially happy, child-inspired tune had turned into something worthy of a horror movie soundtrack. Whether it was the fear of a cop crazy enough to do such a thing, or if it was simple disbelief that anyone would do something so insane, no one had even tried to stop him.

There were a large handful of other rumors Thomas had heard about the man before him. All of them led him to understand that nothing could keep him from his goal, and LORD help the poor bastards he was after.

"Ah, Harry," he said, his voice slightly cracking. "What can I do for you?"

Harry's eyes were blazing with anger, though it didn't seem directed at Thomas himself. Harry whipped out his wallet and pulled out a page, folded over a couple times. This, he tossed on the pastor's desk with a scowl.

Thomas looked down at it. Whatever could be said of Harry, no one could deny he was old-school. The man could barely use a computer and had little desire to learn beyond searching on google. Most likely he had someone else actually print this page for him. Thomas wouldn't have been surprised if the man had just written down the name on a notepad.

Thomas opened the page and smoothed it out as Harry closed the door and sat in the armchair before the pastor. On the page was a dark-haired youth. Thomas vaguely recognized him and tried to put a name to the face. It took him a painfully long moment, but eventually he remembered.

"Paul," he said, putting on his large grin. "Of course, of course. What is your concern about the lad?"

Paul was the oldest child of the Throng family, the ones that unofficially ran the city. He was one of their largest donors, and was willing to speak about himself freely. Overall, Thomas didn't strictly have a problem with the lad, but he didn't like him either. There was something… off about the young man. He was 21, but had a tendency to date younger women, many still underage. Some of the fathers had brought up a claim that Paul had r***d their children. However, no formal charges had ever been brought up, so Thomas' hands were fairly tied.

"What do you know about him?" asked Harry, letting his low, deep voice carry cleanly throughout the room.

"A fair bit, but nothing intimate," said Thomas. "He attends service here most weeks. I believe he's also involved with one of the young ladies in town."

"He is," growled Harry. "That young girl being my granddaughter."

"Ah," said the pastor, shifting uncomfortably. "Well, if you like I can talk to the man, but I can hardly force him to do anything about their relationship."

"Well," said Harry. "I sure as s**t can, especially if he's raping her."

Thomas raised an eyebrow, surprised.

"Well… That's quite an accusation there Harry. What makes you think they've… procreated."

Harry's nostrils flared and Thomas feared he was about to be thrown through the wall.

"She's pregnant, and he's her boyfriend. I never liked the little s**t, but until now I didn't force anything about it."

"Right, well, this is quite serious Harry, surely. However, this is surely a matter for the police, not the church."

"So you intend to do nothing about a r****t attending your church and having s*x with everyone's daughter?"

"Surely he hasn't... I mean, someone would've spoken out it he…"

"And apparently many have tried to, but the police never follow up on a lead and you apparently refuse to do anything about it. Now I can't pretend to have ever been to seminary school, but I am a man of God and I wonder how the f**k someone who supposedly fears the LORD could just let something like this happen under your own roof."

"Harry, surely… I swear I didn't know anything like this was going on, and I'd be happy to…"

Harry slammed his fist down on the desk, leaving a smart dent.

"Don't you feed me that bullshit," he said, still not raising his voice.

It was like a cobra waiting to strike out.

"What do you want from me?"

"It's like this," said Harry. "I'm taking down Paul, no matter what. I'm also going after the chief if he's swept this under the rug. It's just like this. Do I need to topple you over too? Because I'm starting to think so."

Thomas' blood ran cold. He knew that he couldn't refuse the man, because if Harry did try and bring Thomas down, he would, even if meant shooting him down.

"What do you propose?"

"Pretty simple. You have a few choices. You can get out of town, but I'll likely end up finding you again. You can retire, and spend the rest of your life trying to stay off of my radar, or you can come clean to the public, the police and me about this shithead."

"Well surely you don't expect me to…" Thomas started before his sentence trailed off.

Harry didn't budge an inch, and continued watching the pastor until he felt sure he was about to die.

"What's your choice?" asked Harry.

"…You're right… of course, but I… I can't Harry. I just can't."

"Then I expect I'll see your retirement in the papers," said Harry, standing and strolling out of the office.

Harry didn't look back or threaten Thomas further. It was just his style. He came in, dropped the gauntlet and walked right back out, daring you to challenge him. Thomas was no fool. He knew if he challenged Harry, or tried to continue as if nothing had happened, then the man would just expose him as having covered up the r***s. He had no real choice here. He'd have to retire, and the worst part of it was that he knew in his heart Harry had done the right thing.

No man as damned and as crooked as he should wear the banner of God. He opened a word document on his computer, and began drafting his resignation.