by Robin Caroll
"I blamed my father, who I thought should've been home protecting her. He, in turn, blamed me because I was late for curfew and if I'd been home on time, she probably wouldn't have been murdered. We haven't gotten along since."
The parallel in their lives was remarkable.
"So not only did I lose my mother, but in a way, I also lost my father."
The tears seeped to the corners of her eyes. "I totally understand. My father died from a sudden heart attack. He was my whole world, and I loved him to distraction. My mother had always taken Valium, ever since I was a little kid. But because my dad was so perfect, I just ignored her failings." She let the tears fall as she remembered and relived the pain. "After Dad died, I begged her to get help. I yelled at her to straighten up. She just sunk deeper into depression, which fed her addiction."
Maddox moved closer, pulling her against him.
"That day I found her, I was so mad at her for doing that to herself." Layla hauled in a deep breath. "I secretly prayed that she'd just die."
Had she just said that out loud? She'd never told anyone about that. Had been terrified God would strike her dead because of it. Had spent serious time fasting and praying for forgiveness.
He held her tighter. His chest vibrated as he breathed deeply. "I know what you're saying. I thought if God was such a wonderful god, he'd have taken my father instead of my mother."
Sniffing, Layla pulled away from Maddox. "Today was the first day I've seen my mother since she went into the nursing home."
Shock marched across his face.
She let out a half laugh-half sob. "I know, right? Not what you'd think of a Christian, is it?"
"But at the nursing home . . ."
"Yes, it was okay. I'd been praying for God to take my anger for years, yet I wasn't doing my part. I wasn't stepping out in faith that He would deliver me from my own emotional traps. I was still acting, or reacting, to my own feelings."
"But that's understandable." He reached for her.
She kept out of his reach. "Holding on to my anger for almost eight years? And loving Christ as I do?" She shook her head. "No, it's not understandable and it's not acceptable."
"But you went."
Layla paused. "I did. And God blessed me because of it. But it makes me wonder—how many blessings have I missed out on because I'm too stubborn to be obedient all the time?"
"You know, my father said something similar to me recently."
That lightened her mood. "He did?"
"Yeah. I guess you know he started going to your church."
"Yeah."
"Well, I'm seeing a change in him. A good change."
Her heart pounded. "Becoming saved is like that."
"And I noticed how your friend Mrs. Page was. Even after her husband had just died, she asked about my father."
She smiled. "Ms. Betty's amazing."
"And you and your sister. Both praying with people, looking all peaceful when you do." His face reddened.
She was the one to take his hand this time.
"I just don't know if I fit into religion. I've done a lot of things in my time that I'm not exactly proud of." The blush deepened.
Her insides twisted. He was considering salvation? "And I just shared with you a great example of how imperfect I am."
"But I haven't even believed. I've made fun of Christians, calling them religious nuts." He lowered his head. "You included."
She laughed. "I've been called worse, I assure you."
"Maybe so." He leaned back and used a finger to push a lock of hair from her forehead.
The gesture was . . . intimate. It made her shiver. "Well, I think I need to head to bed. I'm exhausted." She stood, hoping her knees would support her.
Maddox stood as well, capturing her hands in his. "So . . . we know a little bit more about each other now." He smiled.
She warmed. "We do." Did the foreshadowing of a faith to come give her permission to let her emotions go? God, what do I do here?
His stare bore into her. Deep into her.
He dipped his head and grazed his lips against hers. Soft. Gentle. Like a baby's whispering breath. And then he rested his forehead against hers, still staring into her eyes.
Layla's heart pounded so loudly, surely he could hear it. She dared not move.
Suddenly he straightened and let her go. "Sleep well, Layla."
"Er, you too." Splinters, she sounded like a moron. Forcing her feet to obey, she stumbled down the hall to her bedroom. She pushed the door closed with a resounding click.
She flung herself across her bed and stared up at the still ceiling fan.
Lord, I'm falling fast.
THE SUN SLIPPED PAST the curtains of the front window, streaming into the living room, right into Maddox's eyes.
He flopped to his side, almost falling off the couch. He stood and stretched, his joints creaking in protest. Why didn't they make couches long and wide enough for a man of his stature to sleep on them comfortably?
"Coffee's ready."
Maddox jumped.
Houston grinned from the doorway, holding up a travel mug. "How'd you sleep?"
"Not as good as you, I'm sure."
"I slept like a baby." Houston grinned wider. "Get a move on, buddy. We have leads to follow."
"I need a shower." Maddox ran both hands over his head.
"Hop to it, but keep it quiet. Layla's still sleeping. I checked." Houston leaned against the doorway. "How late did you keep her up?"
"Mind your own business." He grabbed his duffel and headed to the bathroom down the hall, his partner's chuckles on his heels.
Fifteen minutes and a lot of hot water later, he returned to the kitchen.
Houston leaned against the counter, waiting. "Ready?"
"Layla still asleep?"
"Haven't seen her up and about yet. Which brings me back to my original question—how late did you keep her up?"
"Shut up. Let's go." Maddox grabbed his gun and badge from the coffee table and headed out the door, making sure he turned the knob's lock.
His partner chuckled as he followed him out. "I'm driving today." He headed for the driver's side of the cruiser.
"Fine."
Houston cranked the engine and slipped the gear into reverse. "Can you call your contact at the courthouse and see if she'd be willing to go in on another Saturday to get us some information?"
Megan's image screeched across Maddox's mind. She'd been less than thrilled with their last date. She claimed he'd been too preoccupied to pay her the attention she desired. She'd been right on one count—his mind had been elsewhere. But not with the case as she'd thought. No, with Layla.
"Maddox?"
"Yeah. I can try." He whipped out his cell and dialed Megan's number.
"Hallo." No mistaking the sleep in her voice.
"Megan. It's Maddox."
"What do you want at—are you seriously calling me at eight thirty on a Saturday morning? This had better be good."
He winced at her whining tone. "I need you to go into the courthouse and look up some records for me."
"You are kidding. Two Saturdays in a row? I don't think so."
"Please, Megan."
"Sorry, Maddox, the payment wasn't nearly what it should've been."
He glanced at Houston, who hung on every word he said. "It's really important. A murder investigation."
"If someone's already dead, it'll wait until Monday."
"Megan . . ."
"Don't Megan me." She yawned directly into the phone, nearly rattling Maddox's eardrum. "Since you already woke me up, what's in it for me if I go look up whatever you need?" The lilt to her voice was the invitation.
But it was Layla's face that remained in the forefront of his mind. "Satisfaction from knowing you helped solve a murder."
"If that's the best you can do, I'm hanging up."
He sighed. "What do you want?"
Her chuckle rumbled. "That's more like it. I want a romantic din
ner alone with you. Here. At my place."
Once that would've been an offer he'd jump on. But now, with Layla . . . "I'm sorry, Megan. I can't."
"Then I'm hanging up and going back to sleep."
"I'll need the name of your supervisor, as well as his phone number."
"What?"
"I'll find a judge who'll sign a warrant today. If you won't go in, I'll have to call your boss and get him out of bed and down to the courthouse to get the records for me."
"You wouldn't. She's not a morning person."
"Try me. This is important."
"Fine. I'll meet you there in thirty minutes."
Maddox shut his phone and smiled at Houston. "She'd be happy to help us. She'll meet us at the courthouse in half an hour."
"Then maybe we'll get some answers."
They couldn't come fast enough for Maddox.
But he had questions of his own. Personal ones. He'd stayed awake for hours after Layla had gone to bed last night, thinking about what they'd talked about. Religion. God. Accepting the unknown. Faith.
Was it possible God was using everyone to get His point across to Maddox? How long would he put off God?
THIRTY-TWO
"Compassion will cure more sins than condemnation."
—HENRY WARD BEECHER
LAYLA ROLLED OVER AND peeked at the clock on her bedside table. 9:22. She blinked, then looked at the clock again. Was it really that late?
She jumped out of bed and thudded to the bathroom. It'd been years since she'd slept in like that. She turned on the shower, quickly brushed her teeth, and then grabbed clothes for the day.
What would her houseguests think of her laziness?
After a quick shower, Layla dressed and made her bed. She stared at her reflection in the mirror. What did Maddox see in her? She'd asked herself that question, along with many others, as sleep eluded her last night.
God, I could really use some answers. A little direction, please?
She opened her bedroom door. The welcoming aroma of her French roast engulfed her. Her mouth watered. Bless them for having made coffee.
Passing the guest bedroom, she noticed the bed was neatly made but no one in sight. No indication someone had been in the room last night. She grinned. Houston's wife must have taught him well.
The living room was vacant as well. The linens she'd left for Maddox were neatly folded in the chair. Wonder who taught him well? The jealous thought seared her brain. Layla shook her head and moved on, not willing to let the green-eyed monster out to play.
She headed into the kitchen, her body responding to the smell of coffee filling the house. Neither Maddox nor Houston was there. She poured herself a cup of Joe and took a sip. Wonderful. Looking out the windows, she spied Maddox's Mustang but Houston's car was absent from the drive.
They left already. If only she hadn't slept in, she'd know where they were and what they were doing. They must think her terribly languid.
Maybe she could do something to help. She knew everybody in the industry and could probably get a lot more information faster.
Chinese Sheetrock. She still couldn't imagine it'd happened here in Eternal Springs. But that was the only thing that made sense. Everything added up to the Chinese Sheetrock. The smell. The corrosion. The illness.
The industry had taken preventive measures back when the news first broke. Suppliers checked their origination shipment paperwork very carefully now. Cross-checked even. Bills of lading were inspected with a fine-tooth comb. Not one incident of substandard materials had come up in their parish. Had someone gotten slack in their diligence after time passed, thinking the danger was over?
Ed Young would have a fit. Heads would roll when he found who'd let it slip through. She couldn't even imagine the implications of what he would go through. Having to go back and make sure quality materials had been used. Knowing Ed, if he found more of the imported Sheetrock had been supplied, he'd replace it at his cost. That could really hurt his business. Maybe she could help him. She could definitely offer to contract any replacement jobs at no charge.
Layla finished her coffee and grabbed the phone. If she could get Ed looking into his paperwork, it was possible he could determine who'd messed up, when, and how much damage could possibly be done. While no one said anything, there was always the possibility of getting sued. The quicker Ed could get the details, the sooner he could act proactively.
She dialed Ed's cell phone and turned off the coffeepot as she waited. She needed to run by the office and install the new phone system that had arrived yesterday.
"Ed Young."
"Hi, Ed. It's Layla."
"Hello there, young lady. How are you?"
"Pretty good. Listen, I need to tell you some bad news."
"What?" Fear came through in his voice.
"I'm sure you know several members of my church got sick. A couple have died."
"I did hear that. I'm sorry."
"Well, the hospital brought in a CDC specialist who determined they had sulfur poisoning."
"Sulfur poisoning? That's strange."
"It gets worse." She didn't like being the bearer of bad news, but being informed was the first step.
"How's that?" His tone was cautious.
"We've linked the source of the sulfur to the church."
"Is that why it burned down last night?"
"No, the fire investigator has ruled it was arson." Because Randy had been adamant. She should probably ask Maddox about that.
"Arson?"
"Yeah. But anyway, we think what caused the sulfur poisoning in the church was Sheetrock imported from China."
"What are you saying, Layla? What's going on?"
No mistaking the pure panic in his voice. She felt so bad for him. "I'm saying someone sold you some Chinese Sheetrock. I don't know how it happened, but it's the only thing that makes sense. Don't worry, we'll figure out what's going on. Listen, you should probably start pulling your bills of lading and see what other projects you used Sheetrock on that came from the same shipment you used on the church."
His breathing became ragged, labored.
Already thinking about the damage to his reputation. Layla could understand. Totally. "I know it's a lot to grasp at one time. How can I help?"
"I really want to discuss this some more. I don't want to impose, but . . . well, I wonder if you—"
"Whatever it is, I'm happy to do." This is what it was all about—helping each other out.
"I'm at a site right now and really can't leave. I'll be taking a break soon. If it's not too much trouble, could you meet me here so we can talk?"
"You're at a site?" That was odd.
He chuckled. "Persnickety customer who won't allow just regular deliveries to be dropped off. Special orders. And I'm double-checking some of the measurements."
Ahh, that made sense. "Sure. What's the address?" She wrote it down as he told her. "I can be there in about fifteen minutes. How's that?"
"Perfect. Thanks, Layla. I really appreciate it."
"No problem, Ed. You'd do it for me. See you in a few." She hung up the phone, called her sister's hotel, but Alana had already left for the hospital. She left a brief message about the cause of the illnesses, told Alana she was praying for Cameron, then hung up.
Layla grabbed her purse and keys, then paused. What if Maddox and Houston came back? They'd have no way to get in. She grabbed the phone again and dialed Maddox's cell. His voice mail picked up on the first ring. She left him a message of where she was headed, including the address in case he needed to run by and get the keys.
She locked up the house and rushed outside. A heavy wind pushed against her, nearly knocking her into her truck. She smiled as she passed Maddox's Mustang. The memory of their kiss still warmed her.
Maybe when this case was over, they could sit down and have a longer conversation about God and faith. Who knew how God was working on Maddox, even right now?
She smiled wider. Thank You, Father.
"IN THE LAST SIX months, counting the fire at the church, the Hope-for-Homes house, and Second Chances, seven buildings have burned down, all with suspicious causes." Maddox handed the report they'd picked up from the fire investigator on their way in to Megan. "I need to find out who was the contractor on these."
The empty office was cold. Janitors milled outside Megan's office, an occasional chuckle or such seeped under the closed door.
Megan took the paper and typed on her computer. She hadn't taken the time to put on makeup or even put in her contacts. Maddox hadn't realized how much makeup she wore. Without it, she wasn't as attractive as he'd thought. Not like Layla, who barely wore any makeup at all. Then again, she didn't need it.
"On four of them, Taylor Construction is listed as the contractor." Megan pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose and stared at the computer screen. "Bayou Construction was the contractor on two of the others and there isn't one listed on the last."
"So the common denominator isn't Layla." Maddox stared at Houston, smiling. Try as he might, he couldn't hide his pleasure that he'd been right about her. His heart wouldn't have steered him wrong. Not like this.
"Can you tell who the building inspector was on all six of the sites?"
"Easy." She clicked the mouse a couple of times. "Dennis LeJeune."
Maddox's adrenaline level spiked. "On all six?"
"What the computer says." Megan let out a loud sigh. "Anything else?"
Houston leaned further over Megan's desk. "Can you tell who was contracted to work on the sites? Like the electrician, plumber, carpenters . . . ?"
"That's a little harder, but I think it's listed on the permit paperwork." Her nails tapped on the keyboard.
"Commander left a voice mail for me this morning," Houston said.
"And?"
"Just wants an update. He's read our reports."
"He wants some answers."
Houston nodded. "Yeah, I think he's getting some slack from above because the Hope-for-Homes site was so publicized. Now, a church."
"Hang on, I have to go split screen." More tapping as she typed. "Okay, the electrician on four of them was Denny Keys. The other two was Simon Roach."
