“But it’s clear you’re not interested.”
“Give me some more time to think about it.”
She glowered at him. “I. Am. Out. Of. Time.”
“Just until nine tomorrow morning. Please.”
She blew out a sigh and shook her head. “Okay, fine. I may be a fool, but if I don’t see you here and ready to go at nine tomorrow morning, I’m leaving. Got it?”
“Oh, yeah, I do.” His gaze slid to the mirror. “I guess we should call the cops.”
“They’d say it was a lost cause since y’all don’t bother to lock your doors.” He opened his mouth to protest, but she held up her hand. “Seriously, we might as well just wipe them off the mirrors and not worry Kyra.” She slid from his jacket and shoved it into his arms. “And here. I almost forgot. Nine tomorrow. I want your answer. Having none, I’ll make flight reservations for one.”
She’d dismissed him. With jacket in hand, he returned to his bedroom upstairs. He jerked the knife out of the picture of Jonathan, Nabeelah, and him and eased onto the bed to stare at it.
Not helping Abigail might be deadlier than any risk he took with her.
22
Burning Tree, Utah
David arose before dawn the next morning and pulled on Lycra cycling pants and a bright blue cycling shirt with the scenery around Moab stitched in hues of red, orange, and yellow. He gathered his hair in a band and tied a bandanna on his head in a do-rag. Once he softly called to Ranger, he tiptoed downstairs and prepared his pack with enough fluid for both man and dog.
After adding the collapsible water bowl, dog treats, and some protein bars, he pulled a sheet of paper from the pad beside the phone. He hesitated, then scrawled a short message to Abigail assuring her he’d be back by nine, that he’d return with his yes or no in hand.
Everyone slept, even Little Bit. He opened the door to Abigail’s room. She lay curled on her side with the blanket pushed down to her waist as if she’d tossed and turned for a long time before falling into slumber. His gaze drifted from her cheek to the curve of her figure as it narrowed to her waist before widening to her hips. How easy it would be to dip his fingers into the silky tresses of her hair.
He didn’t dare.
He dropped the note on her nightstand. Once outside, he pushed his mountain bike down the driveway. The chilly air on the ride down the highway whispered along his skin and raised goosebumps. Or was it from seeing Abigail asleep?
He arrived at the mesa and made the turn onto the dirt road. The whole ride up, his mind hummed like the wheels along the pavement. Her solid frame in his arms when he’d almost bowled her over intermingled with her gardenia scent.
As the sun began lifting over the horizon, he found it easier to put her out of his mind, if only for a bit. He arrived at his destination and laid his bike on its side, then shucked his shirt and placed it on a nearby boulder to dry. Beside him, Ranger whined.
“Time for some water, eh?” He poured some into the bowl. As he crouched to ensure that his dog drank, he gazed at the hulk of wood black against sky the color of a robin’s egg. As the sun rose higher, the sky color deepened to a rich blue. He left Ranger to his water and approached the tree until he reached up and put his hand on the charred bark.
“God, You know this is my most sacred spot. You remember how I always came here when I had a decision to make? Like joining the Army and before we shipped out to Afghanistan?”
He closed his eyes and kept his hand on the tree. “The tree was alive then. Dad said it died the same day Michael died. The day of The Incident.” He raised his gaze to the sky.
A hawk shrieked in the distance.
Other than that, silence reigned.
“I think you’re lying.” Abigail’s accusation from the night before flew into his mind.
“I’m not,” he whispered as he hung his head.
“When looking back on your life, starting in 1990 and running until 2011, what do you see?” Again, her question challenged him. It was clear she had faith in him.
So did his sister. “You’ve got twenty years of proof right there. And you know what? I think God has brought you to this moment for a reason.”
Then why didn’t he?
Over seven years ago, when they were in the village, he and Jonathan shared a campfire.
“You know something, bro,” Jonathan had said. “I’ve been doing some thinking.”
“About?”
“You’ve heard that saying that God gives only as much as we can bear?”
“Yeah.”
“I think God gives us more than we can bear because that’s when we learn to throw our trust fully into His hands. What do you think?”
Back then, he’d agreed. But now?
“Abigail’s so capable. She can do this on her own. But Nabeelah…” He turned his eyes heavenward to talk to the Lord. “I worry about her. I—I don’t know if I have the strength now. I’m… I’m a broken-down, washed-up vet, one who likes it where he is and is terrified to leave Burning Tree.”
He turned and walked away a few feet. The hawk’s cry came to him from overhead, and he watched as the bird turned lazy circles as it rode a thermal high into the sky. “I guess we’re not on speaking terms, God. Kyra says it’s me and not You. What do You want from me?”
He knew the question was a loaded one.
To voice it meant he’d opened himself up to God, who could ask more than he was willing to give. Until then, it’d been so easy to exist in the small, protected world of Burning Tree with his sister, parents, and a few friends being the ones he trusted. He knew what God would ask of him. He would ask him to open himself up again, to rely on the One who he thought had abandoned him.
I’m not sure I can do that.
It dawned on him with clarity.
He knew.
No one had spoken audibly to him.
He simply knew.
He had to go with Abigail.
“God, I’m not so sure about this. I’m honestly not sure I’m able, or if I’m even willing.”
Trust.
That word that came to his mind unbidden.
“Trust? That’s hard to come by. Except when it comes to my family.”
Trust. Gentle, but insistent. Trust Me.
“I’m not sure I can do that.” The potential costs of trying to find and save Jonathan and Nabeelah made him nauseous.
“I’m afraid. I am. The last time I did that, I nearly died. Lost my purpose. Wound up on the streets.” He drew in a deep, shuddering breath.
I am with you always, to the end of the age.
Those words rang in his soul like a gentle, persistent bell.
Suddenly, something filled his being, something like certainty.
God would be with him.
“You’ll walk with us? Guide us? Keep us safe?”
Ranger growled, distracting him. The mesa rose up in a series of small terraces until it flattened out again. Along the way, boulders littered the red rock. Ranger faced those rocks. A breeze puffed downward, which meant that his dog had picked up a scent.
Another low rumble came from his dog. The fur along his back rose, and his tail stood at attention.
“Ranger, what is it?”
Ranger growled again. His lips curled to reveal his fangs.
David scanned the rocks. “Ranger…”
A rock tinkled downward.
Ranger started barking.
Heedless that he wore his cycling shoes, David started up the steep path.
A figure bolted from hiding, one dressed in a fleece, pants, and hiking boots. Long, dark hair fanned out behind her. David blinked. “Hey, you!”
She didn’t slow. She cast a long look over her shoulder as she darted away on a trail that led downward to his level yet several feet away.
That face. Years ago a headscarf had covered her hair, but he’d never forgotten her heart-shaped face. His mind struggled to send the frantic message to his lips. His voice finally worked. “Nabee
lah!”
She ignored him.
Heedless of the slick soles of the cycling shoes he wore, David charged after her.
Nabeelah vaulted a large rock.
David did too. He skidded but continued his pursuit.
She dashed along the hiking trail that ran by the burning tree and dropped off to begin a rapid descent from the mesa to the valley below. She hopped from rock to rock like a mountain goat before hitting dirt and darting around a corner out of sight.
He did the same. As he landed on the trail, his feet slid from underneath him. He fell hard on his hip and skidded toward the edge of the path and a precipitous drop that would spell his death if he went over. He clawed at the ground with his right hand and caught a rock, then thrust his leg out and slid to a stop.
He didn’t dare roll on his back. If he did, he’d plunge over the edge. Hold. Please hold, he silently begged his right hand as he pulled. He eased onto his stomach. Only then did he risk a look. Yep, he’d come close today. He sagged to the ground and remained that way for a few minutes before crawling away from the edge.
“Not smart, Shepherd,” he muttered quietly as he used a nearby boulder to haul himself to his feet. He rubbed his hip and rotated it. That helped. He’d have a bruise but thankfully nothing more.
Ranger peered at him from the top of the trail.
Carefully, David navigated upward to level ground. He scratched his dog on the head. “Next time, your master will try to exercise a little more in the brain department. C’mon. Let’s go home.”
He headed toward the dirt road and began the descent downward. He’d seen Nabeelah for his own eyes. Had she been the one to leave the messages? Most likely. Why remained a mystery. And was she friend or foe? He couldn’t answer that either.
Maybe Abigail was right. Nabeelah was in danger, and she’d warned them with the messages. Should he try and find her in Burning Tree? Or find the source of the danger?
Any hesitation in going with Abigail disappeared in the face of his questions.
But before he did so, he had one more stop to make.
Once he arrived at the town limits, he crossed the highway and pulled up to the bike rack in front of the rotating red and white barber’s pole. He made his request to the barber, who shook his head in disbelief. “You’re sure about this, Shepherd?”
“I am,” David replied through the hammering of his heart.
Half an hour later, the barber turned David around in the chair so he could look at himself in the mirror. For the first time in five years, the man gaping at him had short hair and a very closely trimmed beard like he’d kept it during his time in Afghanistan.
Part of him trembled as he stared at himself. He rubbed his jaw.
David, the warrior, had returned.
The reluctant warrior.
Burning Tree, Utah
Abigail glanced at the clock on the microwave above the stove. Nine in the morning on the dot. Where was he? David’s note, which she’d found when she’d awakened at seven, had promised he’d be back by then.
“At least he left a note this time,” Kyra had told her as she’d headed out the door with the kids. She’d grabbed Abigail in a quick, tight hug. “Thanks for coming out here. I’ll be praying for both of you.”
The printer that had been spitting out image after image from her foray into Jonathan’s safe finished its whirring. Abigail picked up the stack, clipped it together, and slid it into a folder. That went into her backpack. It sat beside her suitcase, which she’d packed within minutes of getting ready for the day. She shot another glance at her watch. Time to make her flight reservations for the next day. She was done. Finished. She couldn’t count on David for help, so she’d manage on her own as best she could.
As she turned away, she thought she saw a flash of color through the window above the bench at the kitchen table. Hard shoes clonked against concrete. A moment later, a large man sauntered through the door like he owned the place.
The electric current of adrenaline shot through her. She backed toward the kitchen. “Who are you? No one invited you here.”
She dove toward the counter and snatched a knife from the butcher block.
“Whoa! Abigail, it’s me. David.”
She stared at the short, dark hair covered by a ratty bandanna and face with a short beard that hugged his jawline. And then there was the cycling get-up. Uh-huh. He was built, all right.
Good grief, she’d almost slashed the very man who lived here.
As the adrenaline drained away, she laid the knife on the counter. “I—I’m sorry. I—I didn’t recognize you.”
“That’s okay.” He stooped to pick up Lilly, who’d run to greet him. “At least Lilly knows who I am.” He chuckled and speared Abigail with his gaze as the puppy licked his arms. “Give me an hour. Then we can hit the road and make it to Salt Lake by supper.”
Surprise had stolen her voice, so she only nodded.
He stepped through the door and called to Ranger. Their steps echoed. Above her, a floorboard creaked. Then toward the front of the house came the sound of two shoes hitting the floor. A shower started.
Her cell phone chimed. Nick. Again. For the sixth time since the night before.
Like the five before, she let it roll to voicemail and settled for playing with Lilly.
Finally, David joined her, this time dressed in a pair of cargo shorts, a T-shirt, and Tevas. His dark curls, now so short they almost clung to his head, glistened in the clear light of the kitchen. A large backpack rested across his shoulders. He reached into the fruit bowl and grabbed an orange. “You ready?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be. Let’s get those flight reservations made before we head out.” Within ten minutes, she grabbed her bags and carried them to the car. Once they began winding their way eastward as they followed the river through the red rock, she nodded toward the backpack she’d placed on the floor of the backseat. “Grab the folder that’s in there and look at the financial info I printed.”
“Financial info?”
“I knew the cops were going to drill the safe, so I had to take pictures of all of Jonathan’s bank and credit card statements. Kyra was kind enough to let me use her printer.”
David set the folder on his lap and spread a paper towel over it. He began peeling his orange. Its tropical aroma filled the car and mingled with the scent of whatever he’d used on his hair. Sexy. Abigail inhaled deeply.
Stop it! she ordered herself. Wrong time. Wrong place. Wrong guy. Definitely wrong guy.
“I saw her,” David said as red rock gave way to grayish brown desert that reminded her of the middle of nowhere in Iraq or Afghanistan.
“Saw who?”
“Nabeelah.” He dropped the orange pieces of peel into a grocery bag.
Abigail stared at him.
“Eyes on the road,” he warned her. “Especially out here.”
“Sorry.” She refocused. “You saw her?”
“When I went to the burning tree.”
“What’s that?”
He separated the orange wedges. “It’s on my parents’ ranch land and is what gave the town its name. I was out there thinking. And…praying, I guess.”
“She was there?” Her heart rejoiced at the news.
“Ranger started growling. He’d picked up a scent. I went to investigate, and she bolted.”
“Do you think she left the messages?”
“Likely so, yeah.”
She cast another look at him. “What made you cut your hair and trim your beard?”
“You were right.”
“What?”
“You were right last night when you accused me of lying. It got me to thinking. I need to have faith, to trust God. This is my way of showing that trust.”
“Why did you keep your long hair and a thicker beard until this morning?”
“To remind me of what it was like to be homeless.”
Abigail drawled, “Okay.”
He blew out an impa
tient sigh. “I lived on the streets for over two years. I couldn’t stay sober long enough to get a job, so I had no choice. At least I had to give up painkillers because I couldn’t afford them. My hair and beard grew out and got ratty. My clothes were turning to rags. If I was lucky, I’d bring in thirty dollars in a day. Sometimes I got gift cards to a fast food joint. Other times, people would throw things at me. I got hit in the back by a glass bottle once.”
How awful for him. “Did—”
He rushed on as if caught up in his memories. “I always worried that people were going to take what little I had left. They tried. Boy, did they try.” He held up his right arm to reveal a tattoo on his forearm, one bisected by a long scar. “I got this when someone attempted to rob me while I slept. They knifed me. Cut some nerves. I lost use of my hand and still don’t have a great grip at times. Do you know what it’s like not to hear someone call your name for over two years?”
“I—”
“It’s the worst thing in the world. They called me Big Guy at the camp. At least until…until Kyra showed up at the interchange where I was panhandling. Hearing her call my name was the sweetest thing in the world. She got me back to the hotel where she was staying. I got cleaned up. I was emaciated, had dropped fifty or so pounds. She got me set up with the VA, got me some counseling, a dentist, a doctor, and good therapy for my hand. More than that, she got the creditors off my back enough that I could have some semblance of a normal life. If it hadn’t been for her…”
“She’s—”
“You insinuated yesterday that I blamed Jonathan for being homeless. Yeah, I do. If he’d let me bunk with him. If he’d answered the phone when I called—”
“Now you wait a minute, David Shepherd.” Like a match to kerosene, hot anger flashed through her. “Don’t you dare try to blame him for your problems. You don’t know what was going on with him. With us. You may not remember The Incident, but I can promise you he did and still does. Every second of it. And losing Mom and Dad, and then—”
She broke off and fumed.
“And then what?”
“I’m not talking about it with you.” She clamped her jaw shut.
The Athena File Page 19
