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please call me Maxwell, please?” he requested firmly, refusing to mask his agitation.
    â€œI’m so sorry. I know you’ve told me over and over but I just forget sometimes. I’m sorry.”
    Maxwell gained no satisfaction in berating his sister. The stabbing edge of his words penetrated his hard interior, softening his tone again. “Don’t waste your time worrying about me.”
    â€œWell, you can’t stop us from worrying. You might not talk to us, and you might not want to see us, but you can’t stop us from caring about you. You’re the only brother I have, and like it or not, I love you.”
    Maxwell’s head began hurting again. He didn’t want to get into an emotional back and forth with his sister. The call was civil and ready for closure; best to leave something to talk about next year. “Like I said, don’t worry about me. I can take care of myself. I always have,” Maxwell insisted, knowing she understood every bit of what he was saying and not saying. “I’m getting tired. I better let you go.”
    â€œSure, sure, I’m glad to know you’re going to be all right. I’ll let Mom know.” He figured the call was over until Christine called out, “Maxwell, there’s something else I need to tell you.”
    â€œWhat; is there something wrong with Tyree?” He sat up in the bed, pushing past his headache. “What’s wrong? Tell me,” he asked, anxious, almost demanding an answer.
    â€œNo, no, there’s nothing wrong with Tyree. Your nephew is perfectly fine for a six-year-old. I would let you speak to him, but he’s at school.”
    Maxwell drew in a deep breath and sighed with relief. “If he ever needs anything, I hope you’ll let me know.”
    â€œYou know I will, but honestly this isn’t about Tyree. It’s Dad.”
    Maxwell’s headache intensified, seeming to come at full force. He wanted to get off the phone. “Christine, my head is killing me. I better go.”
    â€œBut, he’s not doing well. We think it’s cancer.”
    Maxwell didn’t hesitate. “My head really is killing me. I have to go.”
    â€œWait, do you want me to give Mom or Dad a message from you?”
    â€œTell my nephew hello for me, and I won’t forget his birthday in a few months.”
    â€œBut you sent him plenty last Christmas. He doesn’t need anything else.”
    â€œWho’s talking about need? Every now and then it’s all about what we want.” He’d wanted his old room back, the one he had before his parents lost their house and crammed them into a two-bedroom apartment. Being forced to share a room with his little sister was a sobering reminder of how gullible his parents had been and how they’d let the church ruin their family.
    â€œThanks for the call and take care of yourself.”
    â€œYou too, and remember that I’m praying for you,” she said ending the conversation.
    Maxwell adjusted his head on the pillow. Chester was only twenty miles from Philadelphia, but it might as well have been 20,000 miles away. As long as the crushing memories of his past lived in that town, he didn’t plan on returning. He closed his eyes and rested. Tomorrow would come quickly and so too would his burning desire to get cracking on the next case, perhaps the largest of his career—Greater Metropolitan. Years in the making, he was finally ready to take a stab at the great Bishop Ellis Jones, the man responsible for destroying his family. Vindication was the way and Maxwell was excited. The anticipation ushered him to sleep.

Chapter 3
    His release couldn’t come fast enough. Spending another night stuck in the hospital was absurd. A second night wasn’t an option. As soon as the doctor told him he was free to go and the nurse handed him a filled prescription for pain, Maxwell had dashed from the hospital glad to catch the