Injustice For All

by Robin Caroll

  Great. Now she decided to employ that wicked sense of humor of hers.

  Well, the roof of the church hadn’t come crashing down as she entered, so maybe she was safe.

  But Bella almost hyperventilated. It’d been a long, long time since she’d darkened the door of any church.

  She forced a smile at Hayden who hovered beside her like a guardian. He was such a good friend—sensing her discomfort and never leaving her side. Just what she needed. So many of the townsfolk attended the services, people crowding around her. They meant well, but she needed space. Needed to breathe.

  She followed him to the third pew from the front on the right and sat beside him. Her heart clamored as organ music filled the sanctuary. She closed her eyes.

  His hand gripped hers and squeezed. Reassurance washed over her. She cut her gaze at him and smiled, then squeezed his hand back.

  The choir filled the loft behind the altar. The opening words of a song thundered throughout the church. The song was unfamiliar to her, but it wasn’t like any of the praise music from her youth. Upbeat, the tune had people standing and clapping. The congregation lifted their voices to join the choir.

  “How great is our God, sing with me. How great is our God, and all will see how great, how great is our God.”

  Hayden stood and sang. His clear baritone voice rang out clear. It was beautiful.

  Chill-bumps crept across Bella’s arms. She slowly rose to her feet with the others. She closed her eyes and let herself sway to the music.

  The words of the hymn seemed to seep right into her soul, warming and comforting her. A great sense of belonging surrounded her, but she didn’t feel pressured or pushed. And her breathing came surprisingly easy.

  The last notes of the song hung in the air like the sweet breath of a cherub. She opened her eyes and followed suit with everyone else as they sat.

  The preacher took his place behind the podium. He opened with a prayer of thanksgiving. Bella mentally went through the prayer with him. Little sparks of recognition zinged through her as she did.

  “Amen.” She lifted her head.

  Two ladies sang a beautiful version of “Amazing Grace” before the preacher made the weekly announcements. He opened his Bible and began reading from the book of Luke. Chapter 15, to be exact.

  The parable of the prodigal son.

  She inched to the edge of the pew, a strange sensation settling over her. Although the fall day had turned quite chilly, heat waves rolled over Bella.

  “‘He was lost and is found.’” The preacher’s words emblazed over her heart.

  Oh, God, is that me to You? I’ve been lost and You’ve found me?

  “‘You are always with me, and everything I have is yours.’”

  Heat scorched her cheeks. Breathing became difficult again, labored and heavy as if a lead weight sat on her chest.

  The choir began a new song. Bella stood and rushed down the aisle and out the front door. The cool breeze soothed her burning skin. She gulped in air.

  The door clicked behind her.

  “Are you okay?” Hayden’s hand on her shoulder nearly seared her.

  She jumped. “Sorry.”

  He peered into her face. “Wow, your face is really red. Are you all right?”

  “I don’t know. I was fine one moment, then couldn’t breathe the next.” She sucked in more of the chilly air, as if it could cool the burning inside her.

  “Let me take you home.” He took hold of her elbow and led her to the Jeep.

  She let him lead her. “My truck’s at your place, silly.”

  “Well, then we’ll see how you’re feeling once we get to my house.” He opened the passenger’s door and helped her inside.

  The cabin of the Jeep was comfortingly cold. Hayden opened the driver’s door. “I’ll get the heat on in a second.”

  “Please don’t. The cold feels good.”

  He narrowed his eyes at her. “Do you have a fever?” He reached his palm toward her forehead.

  She gently slapped it away. “Stop mothering me.” She laughed. “I don’t know what’s going on with me.”

  He backed out of the parking space and steered toward the main road. “I’m worried about you. There’s a lot going on right now. Hey, did you get a flu shot this year?”

  She laid her head back against the seat. “Stop being a nervous nilly. I’m fine. Just stressed.”

  “I’m sure.” The blinker ticked as he waited to turn. “So, how did you like the service?”

  Opening one eye to peer at him, she grinned. “It was fine. I liked the music.”

  “I found it interesting the sermon’s subject today was on the prodigal son.”

  “I’m sure you did.”

  “Didn’t you find it . . . ironic?”

  She let out a long breath and turned her head to look out the window. “I suppose it was ironic.” Or that God had as wicked a sense of humor as she did. “Or pure coincidence.”

  Hayden shook his head. “You know I don’t believe in coincidence. Everything has a reason.”

  Despite having heard him make the statement many times in the past, this time rubbed her wrong. She sat upright and crossed her arms over her chest. “Tell me the reason why my mother died. Why my father died. Why Daniel was shot by two FBI agents who’ve gotten away with his murder and are now here to kill me. Give me a reason for any of that.”

  “Bella, come—”

  “No, I really want to know. Give me one good reason.” She gripped her upper arms until they hurt.

  “I never said we’d know the reasons. I just said there was a reason for everything. We may never know the reason why some things happen.”

  “That’s nothing but a platitude. I’m tired of hearing excuses.”

  “I don’t know, Bella. All I do know is I believe with everything I am that there are reasons—good ones—for why everything happens.”

  “And you’re okay with not knowing? Just accepting?”

  He nodded. “I am.”

  “And that’s where I’m not.” She undid her seat belt as soon as Hayden pulled into his driveway. “Thanks for letting me go. I’m feeling better now.” She jumped from the Jeep and made strides toward her truck.

  “Bella, wait.” Hayden was beside her in a flash.

  Stupid shoes—the heels sunk in the gravel, preventing her quick getaway. “I’m okay, Hayden.”

  “Wait a second. I don’t want you to leave angry.”

  She stopped and smiled, resting her palm against his cheek. “I’m not angry with you. I’m just angry and need to work it out on my own.” She planted a soft kiss on his jaw. “Okay?”

  “Are you sure you don’t want to stay at Mom’s? Or I’m more than happy to crash on your couch.”

  “I said I’m fine. It’s broad daylight. Let it be.”

  He studied her for a moment. “All right, but call me later.” He planted a kiss on the top of her head. “And drive carefully.”

  She chuckled as he opened her truck door. “Yes, Dad.”

  “Brat.”

  She pulled the door shut and turned the engine over. If she hurried, she could pick up a quick lunch at the diner before the church crowd swarmed.

  Once again she was overwhelmed with gratitude for Hayden’s friendship. She would not put him or his mother or his sister in harm’s way.

  Period.

  Rafe waited until Devane had finished eating before he motioned the waitress for the check.

  “And that little bar just outside of town, what was it called, Jack? The Gator’s Gap or something? Anyway, it was a real hoot.” Hartlock took a swig of his coffee. “We had a good time, didn’t we, Jack?”

  Devane nodded.

  The waitress dropped off the check.
Hartlock snatched it away with a grin. “Remember, my expense account is already set up.”

  Why was the man being so overtly friendly? Chattering almost too much. It sent warnings off all over Rafe. Like he was establishing an alibi for last night.

  Rafe smiled across the table to the ASAC. “Gator’s Gap, huh? Never heard of it.”

  Hartlock’s smile looked more like the baring of teeth. “Probably because it’s a bar. You religious types don’t hang out in them very often, right?”

  Which was probably why they’d chosen that exact place. “I’ve been known to visit a sports bar or two.” But not often . . . not since a drunk driver had killed his parents.

  “Really?” Hartlock handed his credit card off to the waitress as she rushed by. “Hmm. Didn’t know y’all would ever dare to visit such an establishment.”

  “You don’t know very much about Christians, do you? We’re normal people, you know. Just saved by the grace of God.” Just like Darren had recently reminded him.

  Hartlock’s eyes widened and he gave a slow nod. “Yeah. Okay.” He winked at the waitress as she returned with his card, receipt, and a pen. He scrawled his name and thanked her before standing. “We were out pretty late last night. I think a nap’s in order.”

  Ditching him again. “That’s fine. I’ve got some calls to make, so I’ll see you back at the motel later.”

  “Calls?” Hartlock cocked his head. “On the case?”

  Curious? Rafe smiled. “No. Personal ones.” He nodded toward the cashier. “I’m going to grab a root beer to take back to the motel with me. The vending machine doesn’t carry them. Do you want something?”

  “Just a bed and a pillow.” Hartlock laughed and clapped Rafe’s shoulder. “See you later, then.”

  Rafe sat on a barstool and waited on the waitress to get a chance to check on him. He eyed the pies sitting under glass. That pecan made his mouth water. Maybe he should get a piece to take back and enjoy with the root beer.

  The waitress swept by, taking his to-go order, then rushing on. Townsfolk began filing into the diner. Church must have let out. Several people pressed around the bar area.

  Rafe stood, letting a lady have his seat, and moved toward the cash register. The waitress ran up and down the length of the counter, pouring coffee and taking orders.

  He smelled the perfume first—just a hint. Rafe froze as he sensed her arrival beside him. The waitress stopped in front of her. “Hey, Bella. Your order’s about to come up.”

  “Thanks.” Bella shifted and spied him beside her. She backed up a step and let the smile slip off her face. “Hello, Agent Baxter.”

  “Miss Miller. How are you today?”

  Red dotted her cheeks. “I’m okay. Thank you for asking.” The blush crept deeper. “And thank you for helping Hayden last night. I appreciate the boards over the hole in the wall.”

  “You’re most welcome.” He tried not to grin too wide. He really made her uncomfortable, and that shouldn’t excite him, but it did. Yet he didn’t know if her discomfort was due to his being an FBI agent or because she found him as attractive as he found her. He shook his head. “Don’t you look pretty?”

  Her face flushed as she gestured to her dress. “I had to dress up for church.” Her forehead wrinkled into a frown.

  “Well, you look really nice.” His thoughts were discombobulated. “How’s your dog?”

  “Doing well. Vet said he rested comfortably through the night. I should be able to bring him home Wednesday or Thursday.” She smiled, and it held no hint of anything other than her happiness.

  Perhaps he should ask her about being a widow. A wait person dropped a tray behind them. Dishes clattered to the floor, breaking.

  Bella jumped, then steadied herself against the counter. A busboy appeared with a broom.

  No, Rafe decided, he couldn’t ask her about being a widow. Not here. Not now.

  He gave himself permission to appreciate Bella’s long legs shown beneath the hem of her dress. She had killer legs that tapered down to delicate ankles. He swallowed and focused on the waitress approaching him. “Here you go, sir. One slice of pecan pie and one root beer. Sorry for the wait.” She handed him a ticket.

  He paid the bill and turned to go. “It was nice seeing you, Miss Miller.”

  She smiled wider, and he nearly fell over backward from the sheer force of her unusual beauty. “You know, there’s a pretty good restaurant right outside of town. They’re open on Sunday nights.” She cleared her throat, the blush coating her entire face.

  Heat crept up his own face. “Are you asking me out to dinner, Miss Miller?”

  “Y-yes, I suppose I am.” She pressed her lips together and avoided eye contact. She rocked a little as she shot glances at him.

  “I’d like that.” And it didn’t even surprise him how much he meant that. “How about I pick you up?”

  “Great. Six?”

  “I’ll see you then.” He headed out of the diner, his stomach doing strange things.

  He’d walked over from the motel, so he set out on foot, his mind reeling right along with the leaves in the wind. She’d asked him out on a date. It’d been a long time since he’d had a date. And he couldn’t remember the last time he was excited about one.

  If he was going to be completely honest with himself, he’d admit he was very excited about this date.

  Probably more than he should be.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  “The only abnormality is the incapacity to love.”

  ANAIS NIN

  “What do you mean, you failed?” He twisted the flyer until the glossy paper was no more than an overpriced wad. He tossed it into the trash can beside his desk. His campaign treasurer would have a fit.

  “She had a dog that alerted her. She shot at us.” The ASAC’s voice rose an octave on the last sentence.

  “Hartlock, you’re an FBI agent. Aren’t you trained to dodge bullets?” How dare this moron ruin his afternoon with a report of failure? It was one woman . . . how hard could it be to take care of her?

  “Yes, sir. We’re just going to have to plan a little more carefully. We won’t make this mistake again.”

  When had the agent turned into a pansy? He didn’t remember Hartlock being so meek. Had he mellowed so much as he aged? Or was the enticement of retirement making the agent go soft? Either way, it was unacceptable. He cleared his throat. “You assured me she would be handled this weekend.”

  “Yes, sir. And everything will be.”

  He glanced out the window of his study. Leaves swam in the gentle Arkansas breeze. “It’s Sunday afternoon, Hartlock. The weekend’s almost over.” Did the imbecile expect him to take care of everything? He sighed. He’d always been the brains and Hartlock the brawn. And Devane? Well, Devane wasn’t much of any use. Never had been.

  “Yes, sir. We’re working on a plan to conclude everything tonight.”

  “Very well.” What else could he say? “See that it’s all handled and call me.” If it wasn’t, he’d have to hire someone more competent to finish the job. Then take care of Hartlock and Devane, and he’d have yet another loose end to get rid of.

  “I will.”

  He hated loose ends. If these two agents would just do their job, they could retire in peace and he could win the election without fear of exposure. “And Hartlock?”

  “Yes, sir?”

  “Don’t disappoint me again.”

  It was official—she’d totally lost her mind.

  Bella shifted through hanger after hanger of shirts, discarding most as soon as she held them up to her chest. Some hangers made their way back onto the rod. Others dropped to the closet floor.

  Wrong cut. Wrong color. Ugly. Why had she bought that? Too big. Too little. Was there anything in her closet she could wear on he
r date tonight?

  What had she been thinking to ask Rafe Baxter out? On a date. She hadn’t seriously considered Hayden’s suggestion because it was ludicrous. But then she’d seen Baxter in the diner—alone and handsome, and he’d been so helpful and polite last night, despite her rudeness. Hayden’s thoughts about him being attracted to her had prompted her to open her mouth without thinking everything through.

  She should have her head examined.

  Hayden was wrong—the man wasn’t attracted to her. He thought her a widow, for pity’s sake. Which brought up a whole other mess. What was she going to tell him when he asked her about that?

  If she stuck with the widow story, once she gave him a name of her supposedly dearly-departed, it wouldn’t take much for him to do a little searching and learn she lied. She’d have to think of something to tell him. Anything but the truth, no matter what Hayden said. She didn’t think she could ever trust someone in the FBI. Especially when they hung out with Hartlock and Devane.

  So why did she care so much about what she wore?

  Bella jerked a royal blue sweater off the hanger, tugged it over her head, and stepped back into her bedroom. She evaluated the outfit in the mirror in the corner. Not bad. The blue brought out her peaches-and-cream skin tone. She groaned. There she went again, thinking she had to care about what she looked like for this date.

  Turning, she stopped at the plywood sheets covering where the bay window used to be. She would have to remember to call her insurance agent in the morning. She wasn’t quite sure if her policy covered damage done by crazy FBI agents trying to kill her. At least Hayden had said he’d rush the police report.

  Maybe she should call Rafe and tell him she wasn’t feeling well. A relapse of whatever she had on Saturday when he’d shown up on her doorstep with Hartlock and Devane.

  Oh no . . . what if he brought those two out this evening?

  She leaned against the door frame. Had she really been so stupid?

  Her cell chirped. She jumped and snatched her purse off the bed. The phone chirped again while she felt around for it. “Hello.”