Broken: A story of hope and forgiveness
Page 32
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Charles flipped the phone closed and slipped it into his blue blazer’s inside pocket. He bent down to crush the tip of his cigarette into the sidewalk, then walked back into the restaurant and sat down at his table. His apple pie had been placed next to his now topped off coffee mug just before he sat back down. His thoughts focused on what he would do next—how he would use his well-honed trial attorney skills to put the fear of Charles and even of God into the man who was the source of all his immediate grief and angst
In a flash the image of his confrontation popped into his thoughts, from the initial encounter to the words he would say. He took a few quick bites of the pie, leaving half uneaten, then another sip of coffee. He stood up and walked to the cash register, pulling out a fifty to give the cashier. After paying the tab, Charles walked out the front door briskly, his limp from the previous day pretty much gone. He was soon in his SUV and driving toward the Darkwell County Sheriff’s Department complex.
He pulled into a space right next to the front door of the complex. He sat silently for a few moments, taking most of the delay to pray for wisdom, despite the fact that something inside him told him that what he was about to do was not of God, and perhaps might actually be from the Enemy.