by Joy Ohagwu
The man’s curiosity got Gary’s mind spinning and recalculating. But he answered him. “Today. It all happened today. Since you’re curious about timelines, do you know anything about it, or is there any way you can help us find the culprits?”
Jason’s fist clenched and loosened. Then he forced a relaxed smile. He was hiding something. At least, he knew something. “You said it—it’s police business.” He shrugged. “I never get myself involved in police business since I’m a politician.” His smile didn’t reach his eyes. Then he exhaled long. “But if there’s anything I can do to help Marcy, please let me know.”
“Only Marcy?” Gary tilted his head sideways. “And Julia, your daughter? Don’t you care about what happens to her?”
His gaze and Gary’s fastened like an endless chronicle—a chronicle seventeen years long, filled with hurtful words, uncaring attitudes, and undoing painful memories. How did Marcy fall in love with such a man? But, Marcy today was not Marcy eighteen years ago.
Their eyes replayed the conversation of seventeen years earlier. “You still haven’t changed your mind about acknowledging Julia as your own, have you? Even after the DNA tests your parents requested confirmed it, huh? You heartless…” Gary’s anger threatened to take over him, but he squelched it. “Julia—your daughter—is the daughter unwanted by her father. Have you ever thought about that? How it can affect her? I wonder what she’ll think of you if she ever gets to know that.” That much he could say before he zipped his lips.
His words broke through Jason’s emotion, and leaning forward and speaking through gritted teeth, he glared. “Thankfully, she never will. I’ve entertained you enough. Now, if you don’t mind, I have a conference call in a few minutes. You’re free to leave.”
Gary leaped to his feet, and the words he wanted to sling at Jason sat right on his tongue. But he thought of Marcy lying on the hospital bed fighting for her life. Marcy, whom if she needed to be airlifted to a private hospital, would need this man’s help. He thought of Julia, and even though this man did not want her, he might need Jason’s help in finding her.
He ground his teeth, hating being at the mercy of a man so cold and brutal. But Jason was extended family, even if he didn’t acknowledge it. Gary would be the wiser man. He allowed his logical mind to take the lead over his emotions. If he wanted to give this man a piece of his mind, he’d get his chance.
This just wasn’t the time for it. He was enduring strenuous demands on his emotions already, and the worst thing he could do was to break apart in the middle. There’d be no one fighting for Marcy. And no one looking for Julia as diligently as he would.
Exhaling, he kept his focus, kept himself from responding emotionally. He had to be the police officer, not the brother or uncle right now.
So he straightened and gave as calm a smile as he could muster, though the act didn’t reach his trembling fingers nor stem his rising anger. “Thank you for your time.” With those words, he turned toward the exit from the patio and confronted the situation head-on while his feet padded away. “Lord Jesus, it’s just You and me facing these challenges now. I trust You. I know You will help me. Because You said that, when I passed through deep waters, You will be with me. You are with me. You won’t forsake me. I know that. We will overcome. Because I know You, my God. Thank You, Jesus.”
He trailed his partner to the car. “Let’s go find Julia. God will help us.”
“Amen, brother.”
At least he had one human on his side in addition to knowing God was already in full control. Seeing the sky turn dark as the long day wore itself down to the sunset’s glowing embers, Gary felt the slightest hope rise. He gave himself a mental shake. “I won’t give up. I’m going to keep going till I get an answer for Julia, and I’ll keep on holding to hope for Marcy. God is in full control.”
Chapter Ten
Now Hope does not disappoint because the Love of GOD has been poured out in our hearts by The HOLY SPIRIT Who was given to us. Romans 5:5
* * *
Detective Gary stared at the stack on the desk before him. Beside the full whiteboard, the sky out the window darkened even as the clock slid closer toward nine p.m. Two days since Julia was taken, and still, nothing had cracked. A trip to check out Mr. Richard Swelling hadn’t gotten them any closer. The man’s picture didn’t exist anywhere, which made Gary all the more suspicious. “Julia, where are you, sweet girl?” he muttered, staring at the screen with red dots all over it but none leading to Julia.
He had another problem. A black unmarked truck was trailing him, its occupant watching him. His team had suggested fighting back, but he’d refused. Marcy was fighting for her life in the hospital. Julia was probably fighting for her own life and freedom. He would not put them at risk. He would not compromise his safety. He would fight the battle in front of him and not drag more into it. One at a time.
Peeling back his office curtain, he glanced outside. Snow dusted the empty parking lot. Most officers had left for the day, but he wouldn’t leave until something gave way. “Every minute I’m standing here is a minute Julia is in danger.” He ran a hurried hand through his hair.
“You should go home and sleep a little. I’ll take over for you. It might even make them think you took their threat seriously and backed off,” Mike offered. “I’ve gotten some sleep at least.” The man pushed him. “Staring at this board won’t help. Go home. Eat. Sleep. And return refreshed. Alright?”
Gary closed the curtain and faced his desk. “Any idea if they got a match for the artist’s drawing of the woman’s partial face?”
“I’ll tell you when you return. Off you go.” As Mike shoved him toward the door, Gary managed to grab his coat, wallet, and keys. Since the snow had not turned the ground white yet, he could still make it to the car and, hopefully, home before he needed to get out the scrapers.
About fifteen minutes into the drive, he didn’t want to go to his place. He missed Marcy and Julia so much his belly hurt. He altered course for Marcy’s home. When he approached, the police tape there had already been cleared and piled near the door.
He gripped the stair rail and stared at the door. The place looked abandoned, forlorn, and cold. For him, it had never ceased to have inviting warmth, appetizing food, and healing love.
He climbed one step, then another, and at the top of the third, his body began shaking. The weight of loneliness hit him like an unexpected wave, and he keeled over it. He lowered to a squat, sobbing into his elbow, the loss of the ones he loved bearing down on him.
The snow fell harder.
The tears flowed longer.
His heart weighed heavier.
He hadn’t given himself time to think, time to contemplate, or he’d realize what happened and lose it. He’d been running on fumes, and now he’d crashed.
Maybe God was waiting for him here.
Maybe he’d come here not because he wanted to but because God wanted him to.
To shed his pain.
To shed the burden.
To lay his load down at Jesus’ feet alone.
His knees sank into the wet snow. “Lord Jesus, I can’t do this on my own. I can’t lose Marcy and Julia. I’m not sure what is happening, but I need Your help. It’s taking everything for me to deal with losing everyone I love. I hope in You, O God, that You won’t let me lose Marcy and Julia totally. There is still hope. Marcy is still alive. Julia is missing, not dead. I hold onto the hope You give. I have no trust in anything else and not in anyone else. Please give me the strength to walk this difficult journey. Please walk me through it. Please don’t let my hope fail even when my strength fails.” He lifted his gaze to the front door and nearly wanted to run back to his car but stayed on his knees. “Let joy and warmth flow from this house again. Let laughter be heard in it once more. Make Marcy and Julia come home, please, God. In Jesus’ most powerful name, I pray, amen.”
Struggling to his feet and feeling unburdened, he didn’t know where he found the strength to trudg
e to the front door, pull the key from the hiding mat, and unlock the door. As he walked inside, a stale smell hit his nostrils, and the security alarm by the door bleeped. He stopped long enough to disarm it, then locked the door.
Entering, he set the key on the table and moved to the place where Marcy had left the note he’d picked up. Her pastor had confirmed she’d been going there for a meeting that day. He said he’d waited for her, knowing she sounded distressed about something that might’ve had to do with a quarrel with her daughter. But he’d said she hadn’t gone into details when he’d probed. Instead, she’d told him she would provide details when she got to church—except he waited and she didn’t show.
“What could they have been having issues about?” Gary paused at the dining table, lifted the teacup left there, and took it to the sink in the kitchen. He ran water on it, and while he waited for the dry cup to soak, he thought aloud. “They’d seemed fine when I heard Julia on the phone with Marcy at the station.”
He whooshed out a breath. Whatever it was, it wasn’t little to be dismissed. It had to be big enough to make Marcy schedule a meeting with the pastor. He picked up the dish soap and poured it in the cup, paying half attention. Then, after a slight pause, he took the sponge to hand-wash the cup.
Why hadn’t Julia confided in him? Whatever it was, it had to mean something to her too. He finished washing the cup, set it on the drainer, and started to brew some coffee.
After all, he didn’t see himself going back to his place tonight. He made a quick cup and carried it to the living room. Pictures of Julia wrapped in Marcy’s arms on her fourteenth birthday, their faces full of love and laughter, sat smack on the center table.
He swallowed hard, set the cup down, and picked up the framed image. Other pictures filled frames on the wall—from baby photos to Julia winning competitions in school and to when they bought Marcy’s car.
Images that spoke of a history of love and the richness of family. His Adam’s apple bobbed. His family. He sank into the couch, shifting the brown afghan aside, and tears stung his eyes as he focused on their faces in the photo. “Marcy, I love you. Julia, I love you, sweetie pie. I miss you two so much.” He rested his head forehead against the framed image.
Pouring out his pain, he emptied whatever worry remained in his soul. Then he wiped the frame with the afghan and set the picture back onto the center table. Rising, he downed the remainder of his coffee, and finished, he rinsed it out and set the cup into the sink face down. Back at the front door, he armed the security alarm.
He turned toward their rooms and headed to the one he’d used when he lived here. He would get some rest, sleep even, if he could. He would eat in the morning, and then he would go back with full speed to the search. God would heal Marcy. He believed it. Jesus would lead Julia home. He believed that too.
Gary returned to work at dawn, energized. He’d slept almost as soon as his body had made contact with the pillow, sleeping until his alarm jarred him awake and back to this… reality. Him, in Marcy’s house, with her in the hospital, and Julia missing.
A call to the hospital showed Marcy was in a coma. The hospital said it would help with her multiple injuries, but he wasn’t sure how. He didn’t argue. He simply asked them to keep him updated and to call him should she wake up.
While he wanted to go there, the best thing he could do for Marcy now was to find her daughter. The medical staff was doing their job. He needed to do his.
Something flew past his head as he parked. It took a heartbeat for him to see what sank into the hood of a nearby car. Then he sprinted inside the building, shouting, “Shots fired! Shots fired!”
Soon, two officers in tactical gear who were probably getting ready for a mission surrounded him. “Get down!” one ordered, and he complied. The police chief locked down the station, and officers traced the shot to the three-story building adjacent to the station. They found casings, but the shooter was gone.
When they returned, Gary went to his supervisor. “Where is Mike?”
His supervisor’s gaze dimmed. “He went to your house last night to check on you. He was shot and taken to the hospital. We didn’t know until a half hour ago.”
“What?” Mike was shot? And hospitalized? Gary’s head spun. “I didn’t go to my house. I went to Marcy’s house.”
“I figured as much. If you’d gone home, you’d have been the person at the hospital. I don’t think they knew you weren’t who they shot. They saw some figure in uniform in the dark and fired, assuming it was you.” His boss massaged his beard. “I’m not sure you can be out and about as you please. It’s nearly Christmas Eve.”
“I want to stay on this.” Gary spoke through gritted teeth. “This is my family and work partner being hunted down.”
“Exactly.” His boss firmed his jaw. “I know that. And that’s why I’m putting you in protective custody and off the case. I don’t want to have a whole family wiped out under my supervision. You’re a good officer. We won’t lose you.”
This. Couldn’t. Be happening. Julia. Marcy. Mike.
“I won’t lose my family!” Gary pounded the desk. “You can’t take me off the case.”
“You’re making this hard, man.”
“You are making it hard for me to protect my family.”
The man stepped closer and towered over him. “Gary, you are part of your family. As a matter of fact, the only one of them who’s safe at the moment. I’m saying I’d like to keep you safe until we bring the rest of your family home.”
Gary walked over to the window and fisted his hands, glancing over the snowy landscape. Picturesque now, it would be slushy soon and disappear in a day or two when the sun met it with fierce rays. He liked this job and these people. But he’d put Mike in jeopardy already. He couldn’t afford reckless decisions.
He thought long and hard about his options. He’d known this was coming. He’d be shocked had they not requested him off the cases. Matter of fact, they’d delayed it until it became inevitable. If he dug in his heels, he could break the relationships he had left—relationships that could help him get his family to safety. He groaned and unclenched his fists.
A break would make him cooperate with his superior, and yet give him the distance to view this properly. He turned. “Sir, I want to be off for only a few days. I can get back to it after Christmas Day. Please.”
The man considered him. “One week. You’ll take one week off and resume on New Year’s Eve. That’s my final decision. You can stay here, but you won’t be working.”
His boss walked out.
Fair enough. If he couldn’t work, he could pray.
Chapter Eleven
For I will contend with him who contends with you, And I will save your children. Isaiah 49:25
* * *
Two days later, with little sleep and lots of coffee in her near-empty belly, Stacy stood before the releasing officer and offered a stiff smile. “Thank you for your assistance.” His curt nod coincided with Bishop appearing through the door as he was released on bail. She observed his disheveled appearance, including his swollen eye and the goosebumps puckering his arms. “This sweater should help. Let’s go.”
“Thanks,” he muttered, and just then, her desire to whoop the back of his head abated. She’d been sure she’d do it. But Samuel Davids had convinced her that was not a good thing to do in a police station. “I thought you said there was no money.”
She walked Bishop to her husband’s old truck, and he climbed in while she settled in the driver’s seat. Grabbing the seat belt, she strapped it on. Samuel, who had footed the bill for Bishop’s bail, sat in the back behind him. “I was wondering what was taking so long.”
She met his gaze in the rearview mirror while grasping the steering wheel. “Oh, we had to wait for him to be released, and that took a while. That’s all.” She turned to Bishop, who hadn’t glanced behind. “Thank Mr. Davids for your posting your bail.”
Bishop darted a glance backward. “Thank yo
u, sir.”
She taught them to say sir or ma’am when addressing adults. Even though Bishop was one of the less compliant ones, he must know, in this moment, he’d better do whatever he needed to be on her good side. “Let’s get home to the center. You can clean up, and we should be able to sit down for a chat.”
As she reentered traffic, she selected a radio station that played worship music. Something uplifting would drive out the sad tone in the truck. No one sang along, but she hummed the tune to herself. Remembering that a cheerful heart does good, as Scripture says, she wanted to grasp for something peaceful and good—even if she had to worship God alone.
When they reached the New Creations Center, she pulled into the parking space and shut off the ignition, then searched for her purse.
Her gaze met Bishop’s gray eyes. His were teary, a surprise. “I didn’t mean to cause trouble. I thought you needed someone to fight for you. Mr. Davids, thank you for posting my bail. I’m sorry for all the trouble I’ve caused you!” He broke into sobs.
Samuel Davids climbed from the truck, went around, opened the door, and patted Bishop’s shoulder. “Young man, I’m not the least bit happy you made a mess. But you showed some emotion—some care and concern for someone who gave you a place to stay. While I don’t condone your bad behavior, I won’t destroy what’s good in you. Anger destroys. If you let go of your grip on anger, you may have a future. God has a great plan for you. But you need to stop getting even for yourself and let God do that for you.”
Bishop lifted his teary gaze, and Stacy let Samuel do the talking, praying in her heart for his words to find moist soil in Bishop’s soul. The boy ran a hand over his blond hair. “I think I’m tired of letting people cheat me and get away with it.”
