One Final Breath

by Lynn H. Blackburn

  “Thank you,” Anissa said after she finished the muffin.

  “Welcome.”

  She stood to refill her cup and trailed her hand across his shoulder as she passed.

  If he hadn’t been awake before, he was wide-awake now.

  She returned with a cupcake and a full cup. She broke off the bottom of her cupcake and crammed it on the top, sandwiching the icing in between. She caught him watching her. “I know. I know. I’m weird.”

  “I like weird.”

  She smiled. “Who were you on the phone with?”

  He filled her in on his conversation with Brady.

  “I’ve been thinking about it. I want to go talk to Mr. Cook this morning. Find out as much as I can about Ronald Talbot. We already know the guy’s house is gone. Forensics has been all over that property for days. All that’s left for me to do is run financials and try to find out if he owned anything anywhere else, and Mr. Cook may be able to help me with that. Then I need to be at the morgue by eleven. Dr. Oliver said she would start the autopsy around then.”

  “Are you going to tell him about Liz? Or should we call her Jillian?”

  “I think I will tell him. He’s prayed about that situation since it happened. I think he would be able to give me some solid advice. As for her name . . . I think we’ll have to let her decide when the time comes. She’s about to have her whole world upended. The least we can do is let her decide on her own name.”

  19

  Anissa pulled into Mr. Cook’s driveway thirty minutes later. Her security detail parked behind her.

  Gabe hadn’t been thrilled about going their separate ways, but she’d promised to call him and give him regular updates. He’d promised the same.

  She was trying not to think about how weird it all was, but she did like it.

  Mr. Cook didn’t give her a chance to close the car door before he called out to her. “Where’s Gabe? Surprised to see you without him.”

  “He’s working. Same as me.”

  Mr. Cook chuckled as he held the screen door to the porch open for her. “Come here, child.”

  He put his arm around her shoulders and led her to the rocking chairs. “Hungry?”

  “No.” She rubbed her stomach. “Leigh sent over muffins, cupcakes, and fruit this morning. She sent enough for a dozen people.”

  “How many people were there?”

  “Four.”

  Mr. Cook slapped his knee and howled with laughter. “That girl. She has her mother’s way. Hospitality oozing out of every pore.”

  “I didn’t get that gift.” Anissa tried not to sound bitter.

  “You got plenty of your own. You’ve found your own band of travelers to go through this life with and all of you have your own strengths. If you and Leigh both cooked, the whole lot of you would be miserable. You only need one Leigh. God knew.”

  “Yeah. God knew I would need friends to pick up all my slack. It’s not like I bring anything to the table.”

  “Balderdash. You’re organized. Smart. You think things through and don’t run off half-cocked. You’re a teacher. A leader. They all count on you and you always come through.”

  She’d never thought about herself that way.

  He bequeathed an indulgent smile on her. “I love seeing you find your place in this world.”

  Had she? “I always figured I was a big disappointment. To you. To my family.”

  “What have any of us ever done that would make you think that?” Mr. Cook leaned toward her, intensity sparking in his wise eyes. The question wasn’t rhetorical. He wanted an answer.

  “I mean, because I stayed here. Became a cop. Didn’t go to the mission field. It’s not like what I’m doing has the same kind of importance as—”

  “Whoa. You stop that nonsense this moment.”

  “It isn’t nonsense. I’m not leading people to Christ. I’m not changing their eternal destination. By the time I get the case, they’re already wherever they’re going to be.”

  Mr. Cook leaned back in his rocker. “So you’re saying that since you aren’t on the mission field, your work isn’t important?”

  “I’m saying it isn’t as important. It’s not like I got called back to Yap. I had to stay.”

  “Why is that?”

  The why wasn’t that complicated from her perspective. “I never felt any peace about leaving. Always felt like this was where I was supposed to be. I couldn’t leave with Carly’s death unsolved.”

  “So you were called to stay here?”

  “No. I wouldn’t say it was a calling. Just that—”

  “Why wouldn’t you say it was a calling?”

  “Because I was already here. I just stayed. I messed up and I had to stay.”

  Mr. Cook looked out over the porch railing toward the lake. “Funny. I’ve never thought of it that way. From where I sit, I see a young woman who stayed to do something she felt like she should do. That sounds a lot like a calling to me.”

  “But—”

  “Let me ask you a question.” Mr. Cook waved a hand toward his yard. “Do you think my life has mattered?”

  Anissa had no idea where he was going with this, but she would play along. “Of course.”

  “Why? I haven’t lived anywhere else. I was born on this land. Well, technically I was born on land that’s about two hundred feet below the surface of Lake Porter now, but on this same land my daddy and granddaddy owned. I’ve been to Yap a few times. Sent some money. But I’ve never spent more than a few weeks on a mission field. I don’t preach. What’s been so special about my life?”

  How could he even say that? “You’re kidding, right? You’ve changed lives all over the world. You’ve supported my family and lots of others. You’re a pillar in this community. You’ve protected and preserved land around the lake, you’ve supported everything from churches to Little League teams. I bet there’s not a single person in Carrington who hasn’t somehow benefited from your presence in this community.”

  “But I was never called to the mission field. Never called to preach. By your standards, that means I’m not as important as others.”

  “I wasn’t talking about you.” Anissa could see where his argument was heading now.

  “You could have been. When I was young, I told God I would do anything he wanted me to do. Go anywhere he wanted me to go.”

  “So did I.”

  Mr. Cook patted her hand. “Do you think God looked at me and thought, Eh, he’s not that great. Let’s leave him in Carrington, a Podunk town where he won’t be able to cause much trouble?”

  She couldn’t answer.

  “I know you think you messed up and missed God’s best for you. But I wish you would consider the possibility that God called you to police work. That he gave you the skills needed to be a fabulous investigator. That his plan—his good works planned for you before the foundation of the world—was always for you to change lives right here.”

  He leaned back in his chair. “When I told God I would do whatever he wanted, I thought it would be big and flashy. I never dreamed it would mean staying here. Working this land. Doing his work but doing it from the sidelines, wearing a pair of overalls.

  “Sometimes God calls his children to sacrifice everything and serve him in far-flung places. Sometimes God calls his children to sacrifice everything and serve him in the up-close spaces. In the hospital, the courtroom, the classroom, the sheriff’s office. Staying put and doing the hard work right where you are takes the same obedience, the same passion for the Lord, as any other calling.”

  Anissa tried to see things from his perspective.

  “And don’t tell me you don’t make an eternal impact because it’s too late for the people you come across. Yes, you pull bodies from the lake and the ground, and for them it’s too late to change anything eternal. But then you work with their families. Their friends. You change things for them. Those things are huge. In the world we live in, God needs his children, men and women who love him first, to sa
crifice themselves and protect our communities. Don’t you think for a second that what you do doesn’t matter to him.”

  He paused and pointed toward the lake. “You pulled a child from the lake who would have drowned without you. That child, her sister, her grandmother, they need Jesus every bit as much as the children in Yap.”

  Anissa considered his words.

  “God’s callings are as varied as his children, Anissa. All are necessary. None are reserved for the weak and unimportant to handle. You’ve spent your entire career looking toward a future that God never intended for you instead of resting in the amazing life he’s called you to right here.”

  Anissa brushed away a tear. She hadn’t come over here to get her entire philosophy of career and calling turned on its head.

  Mr. Cook pulled in a deep breath and blew it out. “I do love you, child. Not sure why God decided this morning was the time for me to unload all that, but it’s been building for a while. His timing is always perfect. I know that for sure. Now, what did you come over here to talk to me about?”

  God’s timing was interesting. She knew that for sure. “I need to talk to you about Ronald Talbot. And I need some advice, because I’ve found Jillian Davidson. She’s alive and reasonably well in the Carrington Hospital.”

  Gabe checked his watch.

  Again.

  Anissa had been gone . . . well, she’d been gone only two hours, which wasn’t that big of a deal. She was probably still talking to Mr. Cook. They were probably having a prayer meeting for all he knew.

  She wasn’t even supposed to be in the office until afternoon. Staring at the clock wouldn’t speed things up.

  He buried himself in the paperwork and details of the Jeremy Littlefield case. The reports on the gun—a .270 hunting rifle—didn’t exactly narrow down the suspect pool. Deer hunting was a popular pastime in central North Carolina and lots of hunters owned .270s.

  Most people with .270 hunting rifles kept a scope on them. They were powerful rifles designed to take out game from a significant distance. With the right scope and a bit of luck, a good shooter could hit something a quarter of a mile away. A marksman could hit something a lot farther away, which was interesting enough, but Ronald Talbot hadn’t struck him as a hunter. Or a marksman. And that left Gabe with a suspect list that now included every hunter in the state.

  The phone on Anissa’s desk rang. Gabe hopped up and answered it. “Chavez.”

  “Oh, hey, Gabe. It’s Dante again. I was trying Anissa. Is she there? If not, I’ll call her cell.”

  “She isn’t in the office yet. She was running down some leads on Ronald Talbot and then going straight to the autopsy.”

  “Okay, thanks.”

  “Wait, Dante. Come on, man. You’re killing me. Whatcha got?”

  “You’ll have to talk to Anissa. Sorry, man, but it’s her case. And I don’t know what’s going on with you two, but I don’t think you’re quite to the ‘what’s mine is yours and what’s yours is mine’ stage.”

  Dante’s laughter ended abruptly as he disconnected the call.

  Gabe stared at the phone. That little . . .

  He sat in his chair. Dante wasn’t wrong to shut him down. But now he was dying to know what Dante had found. And how did he know about him and Anissa?

  His phone rang. “Chavez.”

  “This is Paisley. I, um, I was wondering if we could talk.”

  Gabe pulled in a deep breath. Help me be wary of any tricks she might be pulling, Lord. “Sure.”

  “First, how are you feeling?”

  “Fine.”

  One-word answers weren’t exactly conducive to true conversation, but he was still suspicious of her motives.

  “That’s . . . good.” Paisley sounded unsure and hesitant. “Listen, the hospital is releasing Brooke this morning. We’re heading home, and I’m worried about Liz. I’ve gathered that the doctors are ready for her to go home, too, but they keep coming up with stuff to test or check because they are trying not to release her.”

  “Right. Look. This is off the record, and if it winds up on the news—”

  “It won’t.”

  “Fine. A buddy of mine in Columbia talked to Liz’s mom yesterday. She’s sick, but there’s hope. She wants to talk to Liz face-to-face to explain what she did and why, but she’s not healthy enough to have Liz come home yet. I mean, Liz isn’t a three-year-old, but she’s recovering herself and doesn’t need to have to take care of her mom. We’re working on getting Liz’s mom up here. I still have some phone calls to make, but we haven’t forgotten Liz and we’re working on it.”

  “That’s wonderful! What a relief! I feel so responsible for her. Like leaving her here is deserting her. She’s been the best thing that could have happened to Brooke.”

  Gabe could imagine. “I give you my word that we won’t leave her there. And she can’t go back to camp anyway. Did you hear the health department shut them down yesterday and sent the kids home?”

  “I did. I’m supposed to be interviewing the owner of the camp tomorrow. He’s furious.”

  “Well, he should have taken better care of the place and not let all those kids get sick. From what I’ve heard, it was completely preventable. I’d be willing to cut him some slack for an honest mistake or a situation where he didn’t know about something in some old pipes or whatever. But by all accounts, he’d been warned.”

  “I promise I won’t quote you on that.” Paisley laughed and Gabe believed her. “But I couldn’t agree more. I’ve got reports, sources, and—”

  “And?”

  “Maybe we should leave it at that.” Paisley didn’t sound hostile. But she was up to something.

  “Paisley?”

  “Yes?”

  “Be careful. That owner out there? I don’t get a good feeling about him. You aren’t going to be interviewing him alone, are you?”

  “My cameraman will be out with me.”

  “That’s it?” Gabe pictured a guy. Six feet tall. One hundred forty pounds. Barely able to hold the camera.

  “Have you ever met my cameraman?”

  “Based on your response, I’m going to assume he’s large and terrifying?”

  Paisley laughed. “He played linebacker for NC State.”

  “Okay, so that’s impressive, but how many years ago? Thirty?”

  “Three. And he’s still in great shape. I’ll be in good hands. But thank you for the concern.”

  Gabe had to admit that Paisley Wilson—at least the version he’d met in the past week—wasn’t as bad as he’d made her out to be. Maybe her mistakes were worth forgiving. “You’re welcome. Just make sure they know at the station when you leave and when you’re expected to return. I’m serious.”

  “I will.”

  He hung up and called Anissa.

  “Bell,” she answered in a soft voice.

  “Are you in autopsy?”

  “Yes.”

  “How would you feel about Brady bringing Velma Brown up here today if we can get Ryan and Leigh to let her stay at their house with Liz? Well, once Liz is out of the hospital.”

  “I think it would be great. Although I do worry that she will feel like we’ve ganged up on her.”

  Leave it to Anissa to worry about that.

  “I don’t think there’s ever going to be an easy way to say, ‘Hey, your daughter who you think you legally adopted was kidnapped and sold.’”

  “True. And it would be easier to tell her here than there. If Brady would bring her up here, we could tell her tonight.”

  “Fine.” Gabe was not looking forward to that at all. “I need to talk to Ryan and Leigh. Paisley Wilson called. They’re releasing Brooke today.”

  “Good.”

  “And she says the nurses are finding every little thing they can think of to check on Liz in order to keep her a little longer, so my guess is if we show up with her mom, they’ll let her out.”

  “Sounds good. I’m sure Leigh will say yes,” Anissa whispered.


  “Me too. Ryan may be less enthused, but he’ll go with it.”

  “Agreed.”

  “Any news there?”

  “Possible suicide. Possible homicide. Dante called. The keys we found on the body go to his car, the house, and a storage facility. I’m going to meet Forensics over there tomorrow morning at eight.”

  “Not today?”

  “No.” Anissa’s frustration was evident. “Dante says they’re swamped and the storage building is a low priority compared to some of the other stuff they’re working on. Apparently there are other issues in Carrington besides the cases we have.”

  “Imagine that.”

  “But it may be for the best. I’m still not sure how to handle the whole situation with Velma Brown. I’ll focus on that for tonight and then I’ll be at the storage unit in the morning and drive Dante crazy.”

  “Want company?” Please say yes. Please say yes.

  “Sure.”

  Sure? That was hardly the warm, flirty “yes, Gabe, I’d love to spend every second with you” kind of response he’d kind of been angling for, but at least it wasn’t a no. “Okay. It’s a date.”

  “Oh no, it isn’t.” Anissa was laughing but serious. “You cannot call a visit to a crime scene a date. It’s business.”

  “Oh, come on. If we count crime scenes and dives, we could be up to a hundred dates in no time.”

  “Is there a rush to get to a hundred dates?” Anissa was laughing now.

  “No. Just seems like a nice round number. Like after you’ve been on that many dates people kind of expect you to keep going on them and they aren’t surprised by them.”

  “You’re weird.” Was it his imagination or did she say that in a very affectionate way? He was going with that.

  “What’s next for you today?” he asked.

  “I’ll be back in the office by three. I hope. And then I have to figure out how to find out what Velma Brown knew about Liz’s adoption.”

  “Okay. See you in a bit. Be careful. Don’t ditch your security guards.”

  He disconnected the call and punched in Ryan’s number. He wasn’t surprised at all when Ryan’s response to the request was to call Leigh. Five minutes later, Ryan called him back. “We’re in. Leigh’s going to call Anissa, but she said our place might be a nice, safe space for Mr. and Mrs. Davidson to come see Liz as well.”