About two days later, Officer Steve Mitchell showed up on Elder John Dewey’s doorstep, courtesy of Yasmine’s willingness to cooperate with the police. Had Mitchell not felt as if Yasmine needed a psychiatric evaluation rather than being detained behind bars, she would have been looking at six months or a hefty fine for wasting the police’s time in reporting a false charge against an innocent man. Because even though the law of the island treated false rape allegations as a misdemeanor, it was aggressive in making sure the penalty for such an offense was carried out.
Officer Mitchell, along with another officer drew near the front door, only to be met with strange ululations from the inside that sounded like someone was yelling for help. The sound made Mitchell uncomfortable, especially because of what Yasmine had told him concerning the deviant behavior of Mr. John Dewey. This man was alleged to be her stepfather who’d been sexually abusing her since she was fourteen. Maybe the aging preacher was using fear to detain another poor girl against her will, as he’d done to Yasmine. But Yasmine had lied about being raped and could be lying about this whole thing with her stepfather. However, despite his distrust of Yasmine’s claims, Mitchell connected his powerful fist to the front door.
“Mr. John Dewey! Devin’s Cay Police…open up!”
The ululations quelled immediately and within seconds, the front door creaked open, revealing the reverent expression of a genteel-looking man. His eyes appeared to be swollen from much supplication, which was soon confirmed by the first words out of his mouth.
“The blood of Jesus…”
Great…another bloody nut that I have to deal with. Mitchell was tempted to share his sarcasm with the accompanying officer, but instead, he kept a steady gaze on the man.
“Are you John Dewey?” he asked.
“I am…” Elder John slowly shifted his gaze from one officer to the next. “What is this inquiry all about?”
“Yasmine Strummer.”
“What about her?”
“So, you do know her?”
“What kind of question is that? She is my daughter.”
Mitchell narrowed his eyes at the man, who didn’t seem alarmed in the least that the police were standing there asking questions about his daughter. Too nonchalant for Mitchell’s taste. Right then, he decided not to waste time beating around the bush. “We have a warrant for your arrest for suspicion of attempted murder…”
Elder John chuckled. “You’re telling me that I tried to kill my own daughter? What kind of silly nonsense is that?”
Mitchell continued, ignoring Elder John’s outburst. “Ms. Strummer alleged you have been sexually abusing her since she was fourteen...detaining her against her will by the use of physical cruelty and verbal threats. Where I come from that is known as coercion. I would even go so far as to say that it is a form of kidnapping.”
In a flash, that genteel expression disappeared from Elder John’s face, transforming him into the replica of an angry troll. “You men can’t be serious! Are we talking about the same Yasmine? My daughter would never say anything as atrocious and as untruthful as that!”
“You have the right to remain silent,” Mitchell went on. “If you do say anything from this point onward, it can be used against you in a court of law…”
“Shut your crazy mouth, young man! Do you know who you are talking to? I am the presiding bishop of El Shaddai Ministries.”
Mitchell smirked. “You could be the archbishop over the diocese of China, but you’re still coming with us. Now, you can either go quietly or you can go kicking and screaming.”
Despite the detestable look on Elder John’s face, he responded quite calmly, “There is no need for that, gentleman. At least let me change out of these old clothes and put on a sensible pair of shoes…”
“You won’t mind if my officer here accompanies you, do you?”
“There’s no way for me to escape,” Elder John spat, “if that’s what you’re worried about.”
Mitchell smiled. “We’re not worried at all. And by the way, we have already gotten a court order for you to provide samples of your DNA, just in case you’re thinking about giving us a hard time.”
It was a lie, but Mitchell could see traces of panic peeling through Elder John’s expression, which seemed to say that there really was no possible way of escape. He’d been screwed by his own daughter. Be that as it may, Elder John had another piece of wood, kindling in the fire, as it were and in short order, things would get pretty intense for Yasmine and her whorish ways. He wouldn’t even be shocked to hear of her tragic and untimely demise. How could he allow that whore to live to testify against him in court?
And as for Drake Beckford and his prissy little wife – well, if he (Elder John) couldn’t be the bishop over El Shaddai Ministries, no one else would and he had already made sure of that. John Dewey was not one to be messed with and in time those inquiring minds who knew nothing of his rugged upbringing, would be forced to show him that respect.