Courageous: A Novel

by Randy Alcorn

  “You really thought that?” Dylan asked.

  “Yes. But finally I decided Romans 8:28 is as true as John 3:16 and every other Bible verse. I asked myself, even if I can’t see God’s purpose now, can I by faith trust Him that one day, in eternity, I will? By faith I choose to believe God is good and He loves me. With what He did for me on the cross, how could I ever believe anything less?”

  Adam stood and put one arm around Victoria. Then he pulled Dylan up beside him, putting the other around him. Maggie pushed her head against their shins.

  Chapter Thirty-three

  Adam walked down to the sheriff’s department evidence room, part of the county courthouse complex. Through the window he watched the evidence room custodian, Sergeant Smith, catalog entries. The room had rows of shelves filled with bins of bags and folders.

  “Hey, Sarge, Bronson said the bags of cocaine we found on Highland have been logged in; is that right?”

  He flipped open the evidence log and ran his finger down the page. “Yep. Sergeant Bronson turned them in. 4:30 p.m.” He chuckled. “He ranted about the PIO getting some big award tomorrow night and wondered if she would fly in on her broomstick to pick it up.”

  “That’s Bronson. Listen, he mentioned twenty-four bags, but I could have sworn there were thirty.”

  Sergeant Smith looked at the sheet. “It says twenty-four went to the lab. Sure you guys counted right?”

  Adam thought about it. “Bronson should know since he turned them in.”

  Adam started to leave.

  “Your shift has brought in some heavy hitters this month. You had that bust on Hoffman last week and that shoe box with six bags of rocks.”

  Adam stopped. “There were six bags in the shoe box?”

  “Yep. Says so right here. Keep this up and you’ll put these guys out of business.”

  “I wish.” Adam hesitated. You can always say more later, but you can’t unsay what you say now.

  Adam strode down the hall past several sheriff’s department employees. He noticed Nathan and David walking by. “Nathan, hold up.”

  Nathan stopped and turned as Adam approached.

  “I just need a second alone, David.”

  David left, casting an unsettled gaze on Adam.

  “You know the Highland bust?” Adam said to Nathan. “You, David, Shane, and I were there; then Bronson showed up before the narcotics inspector came. How many bags of coke do you remember?”

  Nathan thought about it. “Seems like . . . what, close to thirty?”

  “The log says twenty-four.”

  “I don’t think that’s right.”

  “And the shoe box we found when we were all tasin’ Big Leon and Bronson showed up at the end? How many bags were there?”

  “I’d say ten.”

  “Six were turned in.”

  Nathan studied Adam’s face. “Be careful, man. Before we start down that road, we better be sure it’s the right one.”

  On an overcast afternoon, Nathan and Kayla watched three women enter the Planned Parenthood facility.

  “You know why they all wear sunglasses, don’t you?” Kayla asked Nathan, who stood beside her, uncomfortable at his first-ever visit to an abortion clinic.

  “No,” Nathan said quietly.

  “For the same reason I wore them when I came to this place nineteen years ago. To hide the mascara stains from all my tears. And to be less recognizable if somebody I knew drove by.”

  Nathan put his arm around her. “I wish I could punch out the jerk who encouraged you to go to that clinic. But I wasn’t any better when it came to advising my brother.”

  “My guilt is gone, Nathan. So is yours. Christ paid the price.”

  Nathan reached up to wipe a tear. Kayla noticed and pressed her head against his shoulder.

  “You took time to see what I do at the Pregnancy Resource Center. And that means a lot to me.”

  “I should have come sooner, Kayla. To both places. If the sheriff’s department knew children were being killed anywhere else in Dougherty County, they’d send us out, sirens blaring and lights flashing. Yet children die here every day, right under our noses.”

  Kayla nodded. “We’re blind. But Jesus isn’t. He cares about these children. Whatever we do for them, He says we’ve done for Him.”

  Nathan pointed to the doorway. “The children who die here all have fathers. Yet they’re fatherless. If their fathers won’t stand up for them, who will?”

  A dark-cherry-colored Acura MDX pulled into the parking lot. A man drove. A woman sat in the passenger seat. Both stayed in the car.

  “Pray for them,” Kayla said. “When they don’t get out of the car, I figure they’re reconsidering this decision.”

  Finally the man got out. He looked tentatively at Nathan and Kayla, then leaned down and talked softly to the woman inside. At last she opened her door.

  The woman wore large black sunglasses; her auburn hair was shoulder length. She seemed familiar to Nathan, but he couldn’t place her.

  The two walked toward the door of the clinic. Kayla moved toward them.

  “Ma’am, my name is Kayla Hayes. I wanted to give you this brochure that shows you the development of your unborn baby. It also has a phone number where you can get a free ultrasound so you can see what your little boy or girl looks like.”

  The woman’s face twitched as she took the brochure out of Kayla’s hand.

  “Why are you here?” the man asked. “It doesn’t make things any easier.”

  “I had an abortion. And I’ve regretted it ever since.”

  “I really don’t think—”

  Kayla pointed at Nathan, who was ten feet away, still on the sidewalk. “Sir, that’s my husband, Nathan Hayes. He has a story you need to hear.”

  “Hello.” Nathan moved a little closer but asked, “Would you mind joining me over here?” Nathan didn’t want to have to explain to the sheriff’s department why he stepped on private property to try to save a life the law didn’t protect.

  The woman nodded to the man, and she went alongside Kayla to Nathan.

  Nathan swallowed hard. “I’ll be honest. This is my first time at this kind of place. But I have great regrets going back twenty years; I advised my brother to pay for an abortion. That child was my niece or nephew. I didn’t stand up for that baby’s life. I should have done everything I could, even offered to raise that child. Kayla and I both regret our decisions. We don’t want you to have to live with that kind of pain.”

  “We already have two children. Our youngest is seven.” The woman noticed Nathan’s face for the first time. She studied him as if trying to place him.

  “I work full-time now. We’ve got the house payments and . . . car payments.” She looked at the Acura. “We just can’t afford another child.”

  “But you already have another child,” Kayla said. “Inside you.”

  “Look, sir,” Nathan said. “I don’t know you. But you want to be a good father to your children, don’t you?”

  The man eyed Nathan. He nodded.

  “Someday you may have to explain to your children why you took the life of their brother or sister. I believe no child should have to die because he’s inconvenient. Honestly, I think his father should be the first to defend his right to live.”

  “You don’t know our financial situation.”

  “I know this,” Nathan said. “If you will let this child live and you feel you can’t afford to raise him, Kayla and I will help pay to place him for adoption in a home where he’s wanted. It won’t cost you a dime.”

  The woman shook her head violently. “I would never give up my own child for adoption! What kind of person do you think I am?”

  Kayla let the words hang in the air for a few seconds, then said gently, “Then do you really want to have that same child killed?”

  The woman looked at Kayla, then at Nathan again, and suddenly gasped. “I know who you are! I saw you thrown off the side of that truck on Newton Road! I was wit
h my friend, and she pulled over. I jumped out to see if I could help you.”

  She took off her sunglasses.

  “Of course,” Nathan said. “I thought I recognized you.”

  She looked at her husband in disbelief. “Mark, this is the guy! The man who grabbed the steering wheel and wouldn’t let go.” She looked at Kayla. “When he was thrown off the truck, he wouldn’t sit still and wait for the ambulance. I thought he was insane to be so concerned about his car. I’ll never forget when he opened the back door and that little boy started crying.”

  Tears poured out now, and Kayla put an arm around her.

  “Jackson,” Kayla said softly. “Our little boy’s name is Jackson.”

  Her husband looked at Nathan. “She talked about it for weeks. I’d like to think I’d have done the same for my children!”

  And yet here you are, about to . . .

  “Sir, you have the opportunity to do the same thing right now. Jackson’s my third child, and I knew he was worth saving. This is your third child, and he or she is worth saving, too.”

  “But . . . I don’t know how we could make the payments.” The woman glanced at their car.

  “Ma’am, do you remember what you said to me when I crawled over to see my son? You said, ‘Sir, don’t worry about your car.’”

  She looked at her husband, and it was as if a searchlight suddenly penetrated the darkness. “Mark, what are we doing here?”

  “I thought it was what you wanted.”

  “I thought it was what you wanted.”

  Her husband shook his head. “I don’t think it’s really what either of us wanted. It seemed like we had no other choice. But . . . we do.”

  She sobbed. “I want to get away from this place.” She turned and hurried toward her car.

  Nathan extended his hand to the husband and said, “Mark, let me congratulate you for hanging on to the wheel to save your child. I guarantee you won’t regret the choice you made today.”

  Chapter Thirty-four

  Adam wandered into the living room, where Victoria sat with her laptop. “Busy?”

  She looked up. “Just checking Facebook. What’s on your mind?”

  “I was just thinking about Tuesday breakfast with the guys to discuss the Resolution. For the first time in my career, I think my relationship with other cops is actually helping my family rather than hurting it.”

  “Speaking of family relationships, your dad’s birthday is Sunday. If you write him a note, I’ll send it.”

  Adam sighed. “You told me once that I’ve spent my life trying to please my father. I didn’t like that. But I think it’s true.”

  “Yeah.”

  “I mean, the guy got a Medal of Honor because he saved his platoon in Vietnam. Retired as a lieutenant colonel. How can I compete with that? Every time I see him, he says, ‘Are you still a corporal?’ Those two chevrons on my uniform are impressive to a slick-sleeve deputy, but they’re nothing to him. If I was a sergeant, he’d want me to be a captain or sheriff. It would never be enough.”

  Victoria shook her head. “If you cared less about what your dad thinks about you, it would improve your relationship.”

  “I don’t know about that. But I’ve thought about asking him to come fishing with Dylan and me. Or maybe even come for the 5K.”

  Dylan was about to leave for a run when he heard Adam say this. He sat down around the corner and listened.

  “You know he doesn’t like to travel. You may have to go to him.”

  “I’ll write him that note, but I’ll call him on his birthday too. I need to talk to him, man-to-man.”

  “That would be good for you both.” Victoria studied Adam’s face. “Something else is bothering you, isn’t it?”

  He paused for a moment, deciding how best to say it, then told her about the discrepancies with the drugs checked into the evidence room.

  “What will you do, Adam?”

  “I have to do what’s right. If another cop steals drugs, I have to report it.”

  “But you’re not sure who it is.”

  “Besides me, it could only be Shane, Nathan, David, or Bronson. The five of us were at both scenes. Different guys turned in the reports. If the drugs were stolen by someone else before the guy taking inventory saw them, no one would know.”

  Victoria leaned toward him. “Okay, it’s not you. And Shane’s honest, right?”

  “So honest he admitted he didn’t warn Holloman before tasing him. Sarge gave him the chance to tell one lie that would have avoided that reprimand.”

  “And I don’t think you believe it’s Nathan.”

  “I’m not sure what to believe. And that bothers me. Bronson showed up at two drug busts. Why? Unless . . .”

  “Sure, Bronson’s a hard-nosed jerk. But he’s always been honest, right?”

  “I think so.”

  “So what about David? Do any of the guys buy stuff or make payments they shouldn’t be able to afford?”

  Thoughts came into Adam’s mind he didn’t want to consider.

  “I just don’t think any of those guys would do it,” Victoria said.

  “I hope not. But we’re all tempted sometimes.”

  “Have you been tempted?”

  “Three years ago, I brought in some cash from a drug bust, when Dylan had that colon problem. Remember? The insurance should have covered it, but they refused. And I thought, ‘This is drug money to be confiscated by the county and probably wasted on some fat cat’s slush fund.’ There were thousands of dollars in that bag. Nobody would have known if I’d skimmed a thousand.”

  “What did you do?”

  “Nothing. I told myself I just couldn’t.”

  “What made the difference?”

  “I knew it was wrong. I’d like to say I did the right thing because I love God so much. But the truth is, it was because I knew He was watching, and I feared Him.”

  “Well, if it kept you from stealing, it was probably a good motive.”

  Adam put his face in his hands. “I don’t want to go where this stolen drug thing is taking me, Victoria.”

  “I know.” She squeezed his shoulder. “But you have to, don’t you? Because you love God. And because you fear Him.”

  He nodded.

  Dylan walked in the room at that moment. “You want to run, Dad?”

  “Sure, buddy. It’s a nice night.”

  Adam changed his clothes and joined Dylan on the front porch. They set off at an easy pace. While running, Dylan reached into his jacket and pulled something out.

  Adam strained to see it under the streetlights. “What’s that?”

  “A baton.”

  “That’s what I thought. What’s it for?”

  “Coach Kilian asked me to carry it when I run.”

  “Why?”

  “He wants me to run on the 4 x 400 relay team.”

  “Dylan, that’s great!”

  “He said since I finished second in that race, I’d earned a shot at it.”

  “Are you excited?”

  “Yeah. But . . . what if . . . you know . . .”

  “What if what?”

  “Well, if I do a bad job when I run on my own, I let down myself mainly. But in a relay if I drop the baton or I make a bad pass, I can ruin it for everyone. There’s a lot at stake.”

  “You can do it, Dylan. I know you can.”

  “Coach showed me how to pass and receive, and tomorrow I’ll try it with the team. But I’ve never done it while actually running.”

  “Can you show me?”

  “I guess so. Why?”

  “Well, while we run, we can practice. You take it from me; I’ll take it from you.”

  “We could try it. It’ll be like practicing in slow motion.”

  “No, I can run all out.”

  “Exactly.”

  Adam passed the baton to Dylan, who took it and turned on the afterburners. Adam was amazed at Dylan’s acceleration. He knew his boy held back when they ran together. B
ut he’d never seen this kind of speed. It made him try to run faster whenever he put the baton into his son’s hands.

  The next thirty minutes were start and stop, give and take. They brought out the best in each other.

  As they made their way up the driveway, Dylan said, “Thanks, Dad. That really helped. I think I’m ready for tomorrow.”

  “No problem, Son.” Adam smiled. “Hey, what are dads for?”

  It was a black-tie event in a large banquet room at the Albany Civic Center, and Diane Koos was slated to receive the annual Albany Award for Courageous Community Service.

  Tonight Koos outdid herself. Perfect hair, professional makeup, fresh French manicure, shantung strapless gown, and four-inch patent pumps. She glittered and shimmered and was ready for every angle a camera could find. Her smile showed no signs of fatigue. How she could walk in those heels—let alone afford them—was a mystery.

  The honorary presenter was Darrin Gallagher, Koos’s cohost for fourteen years on the WOIA-TV evening news. A GQ cover wannabe with his sprayed-on tan and every hair in place, Gallagher wore a suit that looked like it had materialized on his body straight from the hanger.

  He addressed the audience. “I can’t think of anyone who deserves this award more than Diane Koos. During her stellar career, she put herself on the line day after day. She covered the stories most important to the city of Albany, whether it was breaking news on police corruption or brutality, or scandals in city government. She was the voice of the people.

  “We miss Diane at WOIA, but we are grateful that she now serves as the people’s watchdog at the Dougherty County Sheriff’s Department. We sleep a little better at night knowing she is on the job doing her part to keep us safe. On behalf of the WOIA family and the people of the great city of Albany, it’s my honor to present this prestigious award to my longtime colleague and coworker in journalistic excellence, Diane Koos!”

  People applauded warmly. When the CEO of WOIA-TV stood, WOIA executives and employees followed. Then the sheriff and his staff stood. People still seated and self-conscious about it stood, so eventually everyone participated in a not-quite-spontaneous standing ovation.