Truly, Madly, Deeply

by Karen Kingsbury

  Tommy already knew he and Raul shared the same faith. But this was the first time the guy had talked about his family. The conversation had mostly been about police work until now. “Four brothers. Sounds like my friends the Flanigans. They have six kids.”

  “I love a big family. I want one of my own someday.” Raul kept his eyes on the road. “And I love being the oldest. You’re the oldest, too, right?”

  “Yes.” Tommy shifted so he could see Raul better.

  “We’re the exception, us oldest. Most cops are middle kids. Peacemakers. Social justice advocates in the sense of wanting safer streets. A little rebellious.” Raul squinted at a group of guys gathered on the sidewalk up ahead. “Bet you didn’t know that.”

  Tommy hadn’t known. But he was more concerned with the activity in front of them. Now that they were closer he could see that there were three guys. “Drug deal?” Tommy felt comfortable asking Raul.

  “It’s not a family reunion. I can tell you that.” Raul honed in on the guys, never speeding or using his lights. “Time to have a little talk.”

  But before he could reach them, the guys must’ve spotted the squad car because they took off running in different directions. “Party’s over, boys,” Raul muttered under his breath. He called for backup, and sped toward the one guy running straight ahead of him. He slammed the squad car into park. “Don’t leave,” he told Tommy.

  As Raul exited the car, Tommy saw the runner reach in his pocket and grab a large gun. “He’s armed,” Tommy shouted after Raul. Of course, the officer would’ve seen the weapon. Tommy didn’t have much experience in identifying guns, but this one looked like a 9-millimeter.

  Raul had already told him that the dealers in the area were using armor-piercing ammo. The sort of weapon that didn’t give cops a chance.

  “Drop the gun!” Raul shouted. He had his own weapon drawn now, too.

  Tommy wanted to run from the squad car and help his new friend, but he couldn’t. He was strictly forbidden and he wasn’t armed. So he did all he could do. God, please stop that guy. Protect Raul, please.

  The suspect ran a few more yards and then before Raul caught him, the guy did an about-face and sprinted toward where Tommy was sitting. He was younger than Tommy had guessed. A teenager, most likely. No telling what was going to happen. Was the runner going to jump in the squad car or turn down an alley? Tommy’s heart pounded. If the suspect tried to steal the vehicle, Tommy would have to jump out.

  Instead, a few feet from the car, the suspect tossed his pistol and stopped. His sides were heaving and clearly he couldn’t catch his breath. Something else, too. The kid’s eyes were only half open.

  “Why you running from me, huh?” Raul was out of breath, too, as he reached the guy. But he was recovering fast.

  “I ain’t running.” Anger spewed from the kid. He wore an oversized gray hoodie and baggie sweatpants. He had a blue bandanna wrapped around his head. “You profiled, man. Why you gotta profile?”

  “Anything sharp in your pockets, any other weapons?” Raul pulled his cuffs from his back pocket. “Shouldn’t have run, man. No reason to make me chase you.”

  The suspect jerked his shoulder, but he didn’t resist or try to run again. “I ain’t going in. Not this time.”

  Raul cuffed the kid. “You’re under arrest.”

  Two additional officers approached as Raul searched the suspect’s pockets. Tommy had a front-row seat to the whole thing. From the radio he heard dispatch report that the other two suspects had also been apprehended.

  Raul must’ve found the guy’s wallet because Raul knew the guy’s name now. “You’re just sixteen, Wallace. What you doing out here on the streets?”

  The kid didn’t talk. Tommy searched the guy’s face. He looked hard and sick and broken. Like he’d lived three lifetimes out here. Sad, Tommy thought. In a different world, Wallace could’ve been an athlete or a scholar. Anything but whatever he was doing out here on Post Road.

  A quick check of Wallace’s pockets netted a bag of heroin, two pain pills and a container with needles and a syringe. “You on heroin, Wallace?”

  At first Wallace didn’t say anything. But then he hung his head. “I don’t wanna be, man. I don’t know how. I’m drug sick.”

  “You’re new out here.” Raul positioned himself in front of the suspect. He put his hand on the kid’s shoulder. “You dealing, Wallace?”

  “No, man. Just using. I swear.” The kid hung his head so far down his neck looked broken. “I can’t… live like this. I need help.”

  “Okay.” Raul’s tone softened. “We’ll get you help. Possession of a firearm’s gonna hurt you and you can’t be down here buying heroin, but I’ll do what I can.” He waited till Wallace looked him in the eye. “This is your first offense, that right?”

  “Yeah, man. I… I didn’t mean it. I don’t deal. I’m being straight with you.”

  From what Tommy had seen, almost every suspect who talked about being honest was, in fact, lying through their teeth. But Wallace seemed different. Raul must’ve thought so, too, because he was talking to the kid about getting into rehab. Doing community service. Something to keep him out of jail.

  When Raul was back in the car and after he had filed a report, Tommy leaned against his seat and exhaled. “I thought the kid was going to steal your car.”

  “He could’ve.” Raul glanced at him. “What would you have done?”

  “Gotten out.”

  “Good answer.” Raul breathed deep. “Kids like Wallace… they’ve been raised to hate us. But the thing is, they need us. If we can get Wallace clean, get him into a community service program… someday he might be one of us.”

  Tommy set his eyes straight ahead. He had long been a Marvel fan, loving the way Captain America and Iron Man laid down their lives to help people. But right now there was no hero he’d rather be like than the one sitting beside him.

  Officer Raul Garcia.

  17

  Luke could barely concentrate.

  He rose from his leather chair and walked to the wall of windows that rimmed two sides of his law office. From his spot on the eighteenth floor, clouds hung low over Indianapolis, but they were nothing to the turmoil in Luke’s spirit. He was working a case that involved a store owner attacked by members of a new gang, a group of particularly vicious criminals whose only goal was to terrorize the city.

  For the past month, since Tommy told them about wanting to be a police officer, Luke had worked hard to convince Reagan. No reason to discourage their son, he had told her. And he, himself, leaned on truth. Do not be anxious about anything… Do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Those and a dozen other Scriptures Luke had shared with Reagan or texted her from work.

  But today he had learned a lot about this new gang.

  He and Mike Lockwood had met for lunch and the detective had never looked more serious. “These guys are big trouble.” He set his jaw. “We’ll need a lot more officers to take them down.” The new group was into robbery mainly. “They wear hoodies and gloves and masks. Eight or ten of them pile in a van and go to their location. A tech store or a jewelry shop. Someplace with high-end goods.” He paused. “Then they storm the place.”

  What Lockwood had said next made Luke’s blood run cold.

  “Every one of them is armed and the groups are organized. Two stand lookout at the door while the other six or eight grab goods. If anyone gets in their way they take them down.” He hesitated. “Last time they killed all three employees. They leave no witnesses.

  “They’re hard to find, hard to identify.” Lockwood added that the gang had one simple motto when it came to police. “Shoot to kill.”

  Now Luke was sorting through his firm’s case—a civil suit running concurrently with the criminal one. At least two members from the gang were going to prison, by the looks of it. But like his friend said, the gang was growing faster than the police force could handle.

  Lightning shot straight d
own onto the city and a chill ran along Luke’s arms. What was he really advocating for Tommy? He walked back to his desk and sat down. Not only that but Annalee’s scan results were in. Her chest tumor was only slightly smaller, not nearly as much as her doctor had hoped. Over the next several rounds, they would have to increase her chemo.

  Something her parents weren’t sure she could handle.

  Every minute Tommy wasn’t doing homework or at the gym or on a ride-along, he was with her. Praying for her. Helping her to the bathroom. Reading to her. Worrying about her—no matter how positive he tried to stay. But it was taking its toll on Tommy… and on his faith.

  Luke couldn’t imagine a more difficult season for any two young people. And Tommy and Annalee were two of the best.

  His phone lit up. Luke checked it and saw a text from Lockwood. Probably just thanking him for lunch.

  Typically Luke wouldn’t check messages during the workday. But something made him open this one. The text was short:

  Luke, we have an officer down. He’s critical—in the hospital on life support. I wanted you to know before Tommy sees it on Twitter.

  Then Luke read the officer’s name.

  No. Please, God, no!

  Luke grabbed his briefcase and ran from his office. He called Reagan in the elevator and for the entire twenty-minute drive to his house he kept the radio off and prayed. Please, Lord, let him live. This one has to pull through. Please, Father. His heart pounded. He drove as fast as he could without breaking the law.

  Reagan was waiting. Her face was pale, but she wasn’t crying and the whole ride to Northside High she said just five words. “Thank you. For calling me.”

  This was why she didn’t want Tommy to be a police officer, of course. It was just after three o’clock, which meant Tommy would be in the gym practicing with his team.

  Luke had no idea how his son would take the news.

  He and Reagan held hands as they walked to the gym. Reagan stayed outside. “I can’t.” She looked at Luke. “I can’t do it.”

  How could he blame her? Given the situation, he had no idea how he was going to tell Tommy the news. But he had no choice. Luke entered through the gym’s side door and walked right up to the coach. “I need to talk to Tommy.” He explained the situation and the coach blew the whistle.

  Tommy dropped the ball midcourt and jogged over. “Dad?”

  “Come outside, Son. We need to talk.” He led Tommy outside, twenty yards from where Reagan sat on a short brick wall.

  Tommy seemed to notice her. He looked from Reagan back to Luke. “Dad… talk to me.”

  “Son… there’s been a shooting. A police officer.”

  The news hit Tommy like a punch to the gut. He was still sweating from practice, and now he leaned over his knees. “No.” His eyes never left Luke’s. “Is he… is he okay?”

  Luke put his hands on his son’s shoulders. “He’s… in critical.”

  Suddenly the question seemed to come over Tommy, the way Luke knew it would. Even before he could tell him the rest of the news. Tommy straightened and shot a desperate look at Luke. “Who… who was it?”

  This was the hardest part, the reason Luke had to get Reagan and come here in person. The name of the officer. And now he held Tommy’s shoulders as he told him the terrible news.

  “It was your friend, Tommy.” He pulled his son close. “Raul Garcia.”

  * * *

  TOMMY COULDN’T GET to the hospital fast enough.

  Coach let him leave practice, and his dad went with him in his car. Before they left, Tommy met his mom near his parents’ car and hugged her tight. “Pray. Please, Mom.”

  “I am.” She released him. “Go, Tommy. You need to be there.”

  Now Tommy and his dad hurried through the emergency room doors of Indiana University Health Medical Center in Indianapolis and checked in at the front desk. They were told to wait in a nearby room.

  Five minutes later, a woman with wide eyes and a tearstained face came up to him. “You’re Tommy Baxter.” She held out both hands. “I’m Raul’s mother. Elena.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He took her hands and stood. “And this is my dad, Luke Baxter.”

  The woman hugged Tommy. “He loves his Saturdays… with you, Tommy.”

  No words could possibly express what Tommy was feeling. He put his head on the woman’s shoulder as he held her. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Garcia. So sorry.”

  “He’s going to make it.” She stepped back and wiped her eyes. “We have to believe he’ll make it.”

  Then Raul’s mother brought them to another waiting room, where three other officers and family members waited for word. Tommy sat next to his dad and leaned over his knees. Then he shaded his face with his hand.

  God, it doesn’t seem like it lately… but I know You can hear me. Help Raul. He can’t die. Please.

  How could this happen? Five days ago they’d been in Raul’s patrol car talking about family. Just five days ago. Tommy had just watched Raul chase down an armed teenager and talk him into getting help for his drug addiction. So why? What had happened?

  He could hear Raul’s words like he was sitting next to him again. If we can get Wallace clean, get him into a community service program… someday he might be one of us.

  One of us.

  And Tommy thought about something else Raul had told him. How they were dealing with one of the toughest gangs the city had seen and how they needed more officers. More men and women committed to doing what was right. Removing crime from the streets so citizens could live in safety.

  A certainty grew from his heart to his soul and filled every part of his being. Suddenly his purpose became clearer than air. After what happened to Raul, Tommy was no longer thinking about being a police officer.

  He was convinced.

  18

  Annalee let herself sink back into the hospital bed. She’d been waiting all morning and afternoon and now he was here. Tommy walked through the door and set his things down near her bed.

  He wore a Northside sweatshirt and dark jeans, but his handsome face was troubled. More than usual. “Hi.” He came to her. He hugged her despite the tubes and wires and machines. He held her longer this time. “You look good.” He whispered the words near her face. “I mean it. So good.”

  He always said that and she always believed him. Because his words helped her get through another day. And today—the last day of this chemo round—had been especially tough.

  Annalee’s mother was in a chair in the corner of the room. Often she left when Tommy came to visit. So they could have their privacy. But this time she stayed. She was too worried about Annalee to leave.

  “I just left Raul’s waiting room.” He hovered over her, their faces inches apart. “He’s showing some improvement.”

  “Good. I’m praying for a miracle.” Annalee lifted her thin arm and put her hand alongside his face. “God has him.”

  No question the shooting had rocked Tommy. But it had done something else. It had shaken his faith. Something Annalee hadn’t thought possible. Yesterday before he left her hospital room he’d told her something that terrified her.

  His expression had hardened. “If God isn’t going to help you… if He isn’t going to save Raul, then I’ll do what I can without Him.”

  Annalee hadn’t known what to say. Tommy’s faith had never wavered before all this.

  And so she had asked him something. “Bring your Bible tomorrow, Tommy? Please? I miss you reading it to me.”

  Now—despite whatever battle Tommy was waging with God—at least Raul was a little better. Annalee watched Tommy pull his Bible from his backpack. He took the chair beside her bed. “I brought it. Like you asked.”

  “Thank you.” Annalee settled into her pillow. A wave of nausea came over her, but she hid it. Whenever she was in the hospital, Tommy read to her. Some books were the perfect distractions. The Bible was perfect peace. And today, maybe reading it would help him, too.

  Tommy op
ened the book. “Philippians, chapter four.”

  “Perfect.” Annalee loved this section. “Go ahead.”

  “Okay.” He cleared his throat. “Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice! Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near.”

  A physical peace warmed Annalee’s heart. These verses were truth and right now she needed them more than medicine.

  Tommy’s voice was soft, soothing. “Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, make your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.”

  He brought her hand to his lips and kissed her fingers. “I love you, Annalee.”

  “I love you.” Her voice was a whisper, her nausea fading. She opened her eyes and watched Tommy find his place.

  “Finally… whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things. Whatever you have learned or received or heard from me—or seen in me, put it into practice. And the God of peace will be with you.”

  Tommy kept reading, and toward the end of the passage, Annalee closed her eyes. She knew the lines by heart, but they seemed more impactful coming from Tommy. “I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation…”

  She opened her eyes and looked at him. They said the last line together, their voices blending in a chorus of hope and faith, trust and belief. “I can do all this through Him who gives me strength.”

  Tommy didn’t move. She didn’t, either. They only looked deep into the desperate places of their hearts. After a while, Tommy closed his Bible. “I needed that.”