I Can’t Believe It’s Not Kingdom Come (4)
Chapter 4 of the crime comedy from Chris Well. When the world fails to end on schedule, the mob is in no mood to discuss End-Times theology...
You can listen to the author commentary for this chapter here. (Don’t worry, no spoilers!)
I CAN’T BELIEVE IT’S NOT KINGDOM COME will be serialized every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday on Substack. Links emailed out once a week in our weekly Monster Complex™ newsletter!
I CAN’T BELIEVE IT’S NOT KINGDOM COME
It’s not the end of the world—which could be a problem…
- 4 -
Detective Tom Griggs and his wife, Carla, were at the grave about 10 AM. Floral Hills cemetery. Standing there, holding hands, the Monday morning sunny and cool, but inside Griggs felt grey and cold. The air around them silent but for the sound of birds not yet flying south, the sound of cars passing in the distance.
Griggs took a light step forward, carefully, like he was walking across something brittle. He got down on one knee by the headstone.
KAYLA RAE GRIGGS.
OUR PRECIOUS DAUGHTER.
November 6, 1991-October 20, 2003.
They had lost their little girl exactly fourteen years ago today.
Fighting back any emotion, he set the flowers down on the ground in front of the stone. Back at the flower shop, he wanted to buy roses. But Carla said it was better to buy the floral arrangement. Apparently, these were what Kayla liked. It all looked the same to Griggs, so it was fine with him.
He stood next to Carla, who wrapped her fingers around his hand. They stood there a while, her staring at the stone, lip trembling, him looking around at the foliage. He took note of the orange and yellow leaves falling and turning brown around their daughter's final resting place.
There was a long silence, just the birds and cars and Carla sniffling. Finally, she pulled a wrinkled tissue out of her coat pocket and wiped her nose. “All this time, you would think the pain would go away.”
Griggs felt like he should say something. He grunted. “As long as you carry the pain, you can always remember.” Not as profound as he wanted, but it was all he had right now.
This was the first time in months they had visited the grave together. Griggs and Carla had spent years allowing the death of their daughter to drive a wedge between them. Griggs refusing to talk about what happened. Carla always leaving an extra place at the dinner table. Both wallowing in their private pain. Both wallowing in their private guilt. Blaming each other for the events that had stolen their little girl from them.
In the past couple years, the two started seeing a marriage counselor, who told them to work through their grief together. Until the counselor assigned it to them—made it an action item, in fact—it never occurred to Griggs the importance of doing such a thing. You walk down the wrong road long enough, you forget there is a right road.
Carla squeezed his hand. “It’s strange being here. Together.”
“Why? She’s our daughter.”
“I know.” She wiped her nose again. “It’s just...” She let the sentence trail off. Finally, she said, “I guess it’s just important to work through our grief together.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“You know, talk about things.”
“Mm-hmm.”
There was another silence, birds and cars. Then she asked, “What are you thinking?”
Griggs inhaled deeply. Shook his head. Could not find the words. Could not risk expressing what he felt, for fear of crying.
“You know, it’s important to talk,” she said. “The counselor said.”
“Not in the mood.”
Griggs stared at the headstone a few more seconds. Felt his knees going weak and turned for the bench by the pond. When Kayla Rae was little, they brought her out here to feed the ducks.
Stopping at the convenience store for a loaf of bread. Showing tiny hands how to break the bread into small pieces, small enough for the ducks.
It seemed like yesterday. It seemed like a hundred years ago.
He sat down on the bench with a gruff exhalation. Carla sat next to him. As they stared at the pond, he wished he had some bread now.
Carla grabbed his hand again. “The counselor says it’s the key to working our way through this. You can’t keep it bottled up.”
“I know.”
A family showed up on the far side of the pond. Small children fighting over a plastic bag of bread. Griggs watched the man mediate between the two kids. As he watched, Griggs felt a smile cross his lips. He almost didn’t hear what Carla said next. “You should reconnect with your father.”
He could barely believe his ears. “What?”
“It’s not healthy to keep all this bottled up. I’m worried about you.”
“This is not the place.”
“Kayla Rae loved her grampa.”
“She didn’t know him.” Griggs felt the bile in his throat. “He abandoned her when she was little.”
“She visited him a few times before he disappeared.”
“He did not ‘disappear.’ He left.”
“Of course he disappeared. You don’t even—”
“Get it straight.” Griggs jumped off the bench and whirled on Carla. “He abandoned his family. He cleaned out the register and left my mother with the bills. Facing an audit. Facing an illness without health insurance.” He felt his fingers working by themselves and stuffed his hands in his coat pocket. “I lost a promotion because of him.” Suddenly full of bitter energy, he found himself pacing. “Why are we even talking about this?”
“It’s important to—”
“I came to the cemetery to see my daughter. To remember my daughter. I did not come here to—” He stopped at the sound of his cell phone. Carla gave him a sour look as he checked the caller ID. It was his partner, Detective Charlie Pasch. He turned away from her and answered. “Yeah?”
“Oh! I thought I would get your voice mail—I didn’t mean to bother you this morning.”
“It’s okay. What do you have?”
“O’Malley has some dirt on Ted Massey.”
If Special Agent O’Malley passed along a tip, that meant it was something of special interest to the Kansas City Police/FBI Joint Task Force against organized crime.
Griggs suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder. “Tell them you’re busy. Tell them you’re in the middle of something.”
He shrugged her off, took a step forward. “What did he say?”
“Massey has his people working a protection racket.”
“You called me for that?”
“This one has an interesting twist. He’s using the leverage to buy up real estate.”
“Why? What is he doing?”
“We’re still trying to figure that out,” Charlie said. “But you don’t have to worry about it right this moment. I’ll catch you up about it when you come in tomorrow.”
“Sure.” Griggs paused a second. Weighing the options. Finally, he said, “I’ll be right in. See you in about an hour.” He pocketed the phone and turned back to Carla. Ignored the hurt look on her face. “Gotta go.”
“I should have known. You didn’t have the time for her when she was alive, why should you—”
Griggs didn’t hear Carla finish. He was already walking away.
AUTHOR COMMENTARY:
If you ever read my older published novels—and if that doesn’t include you, don’t feel bad, I’m glad we have this time together now—but if you do know those books, you might recognize Detective Tom Griggs from his earlier appearances in FORGIVING SOLOMON LONG and DELIVER US FROM EVELYN. Although most of the characters and plots in I CAN’T BELIEVE IT’S NOT KINGDOM COME are unique to this novel, the Griggs chapters continue his professional and personal trials from the previous books. Alas, the publisher canceled the series before we found out what had happened to his daughter or to his father.
In fact, one of the changes I made when revising this book into I CAN’T BELIEVE IT’S NOT KINGDOM COME was to make it more of a standalone. The original version of this book ended with a cliffhanger that had—at the time—promised that the series would be way more about Griggs for books 4 and 5. But after all this time, I barely remember where the story was going to go. And I have other books demanding that I pay more attention to them now…
There are 70 chapters for I CAN’T BELIEVE IT’S NOT KINGDOM COME. My plan is to post a chapter every Thursday and Saturday on Substack.
If you can’t wait to see how it turns out, you can actually read the whole eBook (as TRIBULATION HOUSE: RELOADED) on Wattpad.
Find Chris Well online: