Blind Faith

by Sharon Sala

  She jumped up and ran through the house, and then opened the front door.

  “Good morning. I’m Rodney Gordon. Art is expecting me.”

  Wyrick stared. “Art?”

  “Arthur Merlin, if you will. You are Jade Wyrick, are you not?”

  “Uh, yes. But I’ve only ever called him Merlin. Please come in. He’s in the kitchen,” Wyrick said, and then led the way through the house.

  “Morning, Art!” Rodney said.

  Merlin nodded. “Morning, Rodney. Help yourself to coffee and a Danish.”

  “I’m good,” Rodney said, and sat down. “I understand time is important this morning, so I’ll get down to business.”

  Wyrick sat, watching in disbelief as the lawyer pulled out page after page of legalese she had to sign—everything from giving her access to Merlin’s checking account to giving her power of attorney in all aspects of his life, and then making sure Rodney knew his wishes in allowing Wyrick to live in the main house at any time she chose, and make any changes she wanted, even if he had yet to pass.

  When it was all said and done, she had an entire file folder of copies, the code to the main security system and keys to the main house. At that point, Merlin waved her away.

  “I know you have a job to go to. We’ll talk again when you have a little more time.”

  Wyrick stood. She was being dismissed, but she stopped long enough to throw her arms around Merlin’s neck.

  “Thank you, dear friend.”

  “No, thank you, Jade. You’re the only person in my life I trust enough to help me out of it.”

  She left the kitchen in tears and ran back down the stairs to get dressed. She was going to be late for work, and she sent Charlie a quick text.

  I’m going to be late. Nothing is wrong.

  She started to reach for black pants and a gold vest, then stopped, shoved them aside and chose skinny-leg blue jeans, powder blue cowboy boots with red stitching and a blue denim jacket with three-quarter-length sleeves.

  She kept her entire face clean of makeup except for the slash of bloodred lipstick on her mouth, then grabbed her bag with her purse and laptop and headed out the door.

  * * *

  The moment Charlie was awake, he reached for the phone. He saw Wyrick’s text and shrugged it off. He was going to be late, too, and called Morning Light, then asked to speak to Doris.

  Pinkie put him on hold, and a few moments later, Doris answered.

  “Good morning. This is Doris.”

  “It’s me, Charlie. How is Annie this morning?”

  “The same, Charlie. Steady pulse and heartbeat.”

  “Should I be there?”

  “She’s not failing, if that’s what you’re asking. But I never make decisions for family.”

  “Okay. I’ll check in later today, then.”

  “Another nurse from hospice will be with her today. Her name is Rachel. She’s a sweetheart. I’ll tell her you’re planning on stopping by...and don’t worry. Everyone here has Annie’s contact information.”

  “Okay,” Charlie said, and hung up, then sat on the side of the bed, listening to the silence.

  He hadn’t slept much last night, and the urge to go back to bed was there, but that wouldn’t accomplish anything, and he needed to stay busy, so he headed for the shower to get ready for work.

  * * *

  Darrell Boyington had spent all night thinking about Jade Wyrick. She was scary. She knew about Cyrus Parks, but he wasn’t sure she knew he’d come there to kill her.

  And then it dawned on him that he might not be the first person Parks had sent on this task. If that was the case, he was already in the hole. His hits had all been on people who were unaware...unsuspecting.

  Jade Wyrick had not only seen him coming, but knew who’d sent him. He needed to contact Parks before committing himself further.

  He continued getting ready for work, then went down to breakfast. He’d already called down to the kitchen to order Belgian waffles and bacon this morning and, as always, fresh squeezed orange juice, which he drank before his coffee. It was his routine, and Darrell didn’t like to be detoured from his routine. He considered it bad luck.

  The food he’d ordered was in chafing dishes on the sideboard, and his juice and coffee were at his place at the table. As soon as he finished his juice, he buttered three waffles, then poured syrup over the stack and cut his first bite. Hot, crispy waffle...warm, salty butter melting in the little brown squares, filled with pure maple syrup. The breakfast of champions.

  He ate in silence, reading the newspaper on his phone, and then left his house just before 9:00 a.m., as was his habit. But as soon as he got in the car, he pulled up the number he’d been given and contacted Parks.

  * * *

  Cyrus was in his car on the way to a meeting when a call came in on his secure line. He was already expecting a successful report and answered with an upbeat tone.

  “This is Parks.”

  “Who the hell is that woman?”

  “Is this the man I—?”

  “Answer my question.”

  “Why?” Cyrus said.

  “She looked at me the other day and, out of the blue, said to tell Cyrus Parks if he didn’t leave her the hell alone, she would destroy the both of us. So what is she? Because there is no one on the face of the earth who knows what I look like, or what I do, or that I even know your name.”

  Cyrus shuddered. “She said my name?”

  “Yes, and she’s seen my face and knows I’m connected to you, which is not good for me. So I have a choice. Kill you or kill her. Or maybe kill both of you and cut my losses.”

  It was cold where Cyrus was, but he was sweating. How could he protect himself from a man he didn’t know?

  “No, no—no need for all that,” he said. “I’ll send the balance of the money into that account and release you from the contract.”

  “That’ll work, because she’s toast, regardless,” Boyington said.

  “She has powers and skills beyond human comprehension,” Cyrus said.

  Boyington was furious. “So you set me on a task you knew would fail?”

  “I didn’t know then, but if she connected us simply by looking at you, then that means her skills are growing exponentially.”

  “Skills? What kinds of skills?” Boyington asked.

  “There is no secret you will be able to keep from her...at least not for long. You won’t be able to get close enough to her to take her out. You can’t track her. We’ve tried.”

  “I asked you before, but you didn’t answer me,” Boyington said. “What is she?”

  “I created a monster I can no longer control,” Cyrus said. “Let her be.”

  * * *

  Wyrick was preoccupied by the news Merlin had given her this morning, and was walking down the hall in the office building when she heard the phone ringing in their suite.

  She ran the last few steps, unlocked the door, then turned on the lights and dumped her stuff on the desk before answering.

  “Dodge Security and Investigations.”

  All she got was a dial tone. They’d hung up, and at this point, she didn’t care. Either they’d call back, or they wouldn’t. She hung her coat in the closet and turned on her computer before going to make coffee.

  She was in a mood about Merlin. Sad for what he was facing, and taken aback at being named his heir. But she knew how much he loved that old mansion, and the level of security he already had in place there was high. It was a gift she would never have seen coming.

  She started coffee. Booted up the computers. And put out the fresh doughnuts she’d brought at the coffee bar, then took personal mail and a stack of messages from yesterday and left them on Charlie’s desk before pausing to gaze out the bank of windows behind it.

  The Dallas skyline was pa
rticularly dramatic today, thanks to a building storm front. Clouds were piling up and darkening, and she could tell by the way people were holding on to their hats and coats that the wind was rising. It made her wish she was down in her basement apartment, and not on the upper level of a high-rise office building, staring down the possibility of a late-season tornado.

  * * *

  Charlie drove straight to the office without conscious thought, then wondered how the hell he’d gotten there as the high-rise suddenly appeared before him.

  It wasn’t until he turned off the street into the parking lot that he even noticed the building storm. He got out, facing the wind, and then hurried across the parking lot into the building.

  Wyrick was still at the windows when she heard the office door open out front. Before she could get turned around, the door slammed shut and Charlie strode into his office, bringing energy and the scent of cold air with him.

  “Looking rough out there, isn’t it?” he said, as he left his Stetson on the hat rack and hung his jacket up in the closet.

  “I hate stormy weather. You have mail and messages from yesterday on your desk,” she said, and left the room.

  Charlie ignored the brusqueness of her comment as typical Wyrick, then got a coffee and a doughnut and took them to his desk.

  He went through the mail, then the messages, made notes on some of them and tossed the others, but he couldn’t focus. He could hear Wyrick’s voice in the outer office and knew she was on the phone, so he pulled up his email and began reading through the messages.

  There were a couple of local cases he would have considered taking, but none of them were urgent, and none had to do with missing children. As soon as he heard her hang up, he headed to her desk.

  She was obviously preoccupied and staring off into space. And there was a look on her face he’d never seen before.

  “Hey,” he said.

  Wyrick flinched and then turned her head.

  “Everything okay?” he asked.

  “Merlin is dying.”

  Charlie blinked. He thought (a) Merlin was fictitious, and (b) he was already dead. Then he remembered that was her landlord’s name.

  “So is Annie,” he said.

  Wyrick took a deep breath and then put both hands on her desk, almost as if she was holding herself in place.

  “‘I’m sorry’ is a weak and stupid thing to say about something like that, but I am at a loss for anything better.”

  Charlie heard the tremor in her voice.

  “I’m sorry about Merlin,” he said.

  She nodded.

  “Come into my office,” he said.

  Wyrick followed Charlie to the wet bar, then watched him pour two shots of whiskey.

  He shoved one at her and picked up the other.

  “What’s this for?” she asked, as he lifted his glass in a toast.

  “For Annie and Merlin,” he said.

  “On a wing and a prayer,” Wyrick said.

  Their glasses clinked, and then they tossed back the shots in one quick gulp.

  It was like swallowing fire.

  Wyrick’s eyes watered.

  Charlie took a deep breath.

  “I hate this is happening,” she said, and then set the glass down on the bar and walked out.

  “So do I,” Charlie muttered, blinking back tears as he set the glasses in the sink.

  * * *

  Trish Caldwell walked into the principal’s office and approached the secretary.

  “I need to speak to Mr. Ramey.”

  “He’s getting ready to leave for a meeting across town. Can you—?”

  “It’s about Tony Dawson,” Trish said.

  The secretary didn’t hesitate further. “Just a moment,” she said, and buzzed the office.

  “Angie, I told you to hold my—”

  “Trish Caldwell is asking to speak with you, sir. She says it’s about Tony Dawson.”

  “Send her in,” Ramey said, and then stood. A few moments later, Trish Caldwell came in. “Have a seat.”

  Trish sat, her hands fisted in her lap. “I need to tell you several things. First... Tony Dawson is alive.”

  “Oh my Lord! That is wonderful news!” Ramey said.

  Trish’s stomach was in knots. “You also need to know that Randall Wells and Justin Young have been arrested for lying to the FBI about what happened to Tony, and then leaving him for dead.”

  Ramey gasped. “What? You’re not serious.”

  “Yes, sir, I am.” And then she began to explain the whole story, including her unwitting part in it. By the time she had finished, she was in tears. “He would never have been tricked into the trip if I’d just told him I’d once dated Randall. Yes, I should have told him, but I take no blame for what those two did to him.”

  “Where is he?” Ramey asked.

  “He’s in ICU in a hospital in Odessa, Texas. I’ve already been in touch with his parents. The only thing I can do for Tony now is make sure none of Randall’s or Justin’s friends try to attribute any blame to him. Tony is an innocent victim in all of this, and it’s a miracle he’s still alive.”

  Principal Ramey was silent for a few moments, considering the ramifications of what he should and should not say.

  “Okay, Trish. I can announce to the whole school that Tony was found alive, because everyone knew he was missing. I can also state that the other two have been arrested on federal charges for lying to the park rangers, and then abandoning him because they thought he was dead. I won’t speak to any other details, and I’m not going to say anything about Tony being ignorant of your past relationship with Randall Wells. In my eyes, that’s immaterial to their crime, and should be between you and Tony. What happened to him was because of jealousy. Period.”

  “Yes, sir,” Trish said.

  Ramey gave her a handful of tissues.

  “Now wipe your eyes and get a note from Angie because you’re late to first hour. You can celebrate the good news with your friends today, and we’ll all pray for Tony’s healing.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Ramey.”

  “Of course,” he said. “Go ahead to class. I’ll make the announcement in a few minutes.”

  She left his office in haste, stopping long enough to get a note from Angie before hurrying to first hour.

  About ten minutes later, they heard the PA system come on and then Principal Ramey’s voice.

  “Good morning, students. I have news to share with all of you. We have all been in prayer for our fellow student Tony Dawson, and I have the pleasure of telling you that Tony Dawson was found alive. He has undergone surgery for a number of serious injuries, and is in critical condition in ICU in a hospital in Texas. But I have it on good authority that, at this time, he is holding his own. Normally, I would not be sharing this information with you, but the guilty parties have already confessed and it has become a federal case. Also, Tony Dawson deserves the justice and truth of what he suffered. The truth is, Randall Wells and Justin Young have been arrested by the FBI. They are responsible for his injuries, lying to the rangers and leaving him for dead. I ask that you keep Tony and his family in your prayers through this time of healing.”

  The shock within Trish’s class was instantaneous, as it was throughout the building, and then they all looked at her.

  “Did you know?” one girl asked.

  Trish nodded. “They notified me last night,” she said, and then let the talk go on around her. God had answered her prayers for Tony. She wasn’t about to ask anything more for herself.

  Nine

  Darrell Boyington was having a positive workday. The quarterly profits were up almost 12 percent. Holiday shopping always made people celebratory, and lunching at the high-energy level of a sports bar only added to their experience.

  And since they were still in November wi
th profits already climbing, he predicted a stellar season. It should have been enough to keep him satisfied, at least for the day, but he couldn’t let go of the thought that Jade Wyrick was a threat to all of this.

  Not once had he ever regretted his other life. It was the adrenaline rush he needed to cope with the mundane part of being a business owner. There were no broken or lost shipments with his other job. No drop in profits due to a downtick in spending. For him, there was the thrill of the chase, and the slight surge of enjoyment at watching a life go out in a stranger’s eyes. It was the closest he would ever be to God, since his soul was already damned to hell for killing. But he needed to find out more about the Wyrick woman before he decided how to remove her. He sat down at his computer and Googled her name, using the state of Texas as his first parameter, and got nearly a hundred hits. He needed to break it down further and localized it within the city of Dallas. He still got more than a dozen hits, but with different middle names. And since he didn’t know what that was, he broke it down even more by age and got three within a ten-year span, but none of them were her.

  He knew she drove a Mercedes. Those were expensive cars to own, but she was just an office manager. He couldn’t find a single debt in her name, and decided she must be independently wealthy. But if this was the case, then why the hell was she working for a PI? The moment he thought that, he laughed at himself for being so blind. People could ask the same thing of him. He knew how he was doing it, but how the hell was Jade Wyrick hiding in plain sight?

  He was already ignoring Cyrus Parks’s warning that she was dangerous. She was intriguing, which made the hunt that much better. A prey worthy of hunting was what made a hunt worthwhile. But the only thing he knew for sure was where she worked, and that she had some kind of psychic abilities. He was an open-minded man. He believed such things were possible, and it was the only explanation for her being able to connect him to Parks.

  What he needed now was to find out where she lived. He had two options. Try to follow her again, which had proved futile before, or track her from a distance, which meant he needed to bug her car.