by Gregg Stutts
Willy was right. Feeling disappointed with God wasn’t a God problem. It was an expectations problem. He’d once heard someone say, “Life wouldn’t be so hard, if we didn’t expect it to be so easy.” But was it really too much to expect that God would come through when it really mattered? Was it asking too much for Him to heal Sarah?
Sarah’s death had been the turning point. It was the moment his life had taken a new course. After all the praying and begging and hoping, she died anyway. God had let her die.
He could see it as clearly as the day it happened. The rhythmic beep of the monitor had turned to a steady tone. The bouncing green line was flat. Michelle squeezed his hand tight and they continued to believe together for a last second miracle. And then the nurse, who’d been listening for a heartbeat, removed her stethoscope and said, “I’m so sorry.”
Max wiped his eyes. He suddenly felt as raw as he did three years ago. He squeezed his eyes tight and shook his head. Don’t go there. Don’t go there. It took every ounce of self-control to not scream and put his fist through the window of Willy’s truck.
It was still incomprehensible to him that a good God would not heal a little girl of leukemia. Or stop the drunk driver from killing an entire family. Or prevent 9-11. Or save a woman before she was raped.
“I need your help, Willy.” Max could hear it in his own voice. He sounded like a man about to take a drink after years of sobriety. “If I’m supposed to believe God is good, that he actually loves us, then help me understand where he is when it really matters. I feel like I hear way more stories about how he answered someone’s prayer for the perfect house with a swing set in the backyard than I do healing someone who has cancer.” Max stared out the window at the trees giving up the last of their brown leaves. “I honestly don’t get it.”
The two men rode in silence for several minutes. “I won’t pretend to understand it all,” Willy said. “I just know the world is a broken place. It goes all the way back to Adam and Eve. They had free will like we do. Their choice to disobey God introduced sin into the world. And with it, all the pain and sorrow and brokenness we see around us every day.”
“I don’t like it,” Max said. “And as long as we’re being honest, I feel like God doesn’t make it easy to like him either.”
Willy brought the truck to a stop at a red light. A moment later it turned green and Willy made a left onto Lakeshore Drive.
“What about this idea that God is in control? I can’t tell you how many times I heard that after Sarah died,” Max said. “It took a lot to not punch them in the face.”
Willy shook his head and said, “Well-meaning people can say stupid things, can’t they?”
“All the time,” Max said.
“Is God in control?” Willy said. “Of course, he is. In an absolute sense, he governs the entire universe, but it doesn’t mean he’s always exerting his own will or overriding ours. He lets us make choices and, in most instances, experience the consequences.”
“Willy, I’ll be honest; I just don’t know. God claims to be good and loving, but he lets so much bad stuff happen. I don’t see how it was wrong to expect him to heal Sarah.”
“I don’t think it was wrong,” Willy said. “But can God still be good in the midst of bad circumstances or unanswered prayers?”
“That’s the question, isn’t it?” Max said.
Willy pulled into his driveway and shut the truck off. “Your wife is waiting for you.”
Chapter 49
Their last encounter was when she dropped the bombshell that she was pregnant. Her “It could be yours” comment had sent him over the edge. He had to respond differently this time. The conversation he’d just had in the car was probably relevant, but he’d had no time to process.
Rose and Michelle were at the kitchen table drinking coffee. Willy gave Rose a hug and a peck on the lips.
Michelle looked as uncomfortable as he felt. She started to stand then stopped. Max knelt next to her chair and hugged her. He could feel the tension in her dissolve. “I love you,” he said.
“I love you, too.” She hugged him tightly. “I’m so sorry.”
It felt good to hold her again. They hadn’t seen each other for five days.
Willy and Rose invited them to stay for lunch, but it wasn’t even eleven o’clock and Max was feeling too far behind on getting ready for Conway. He still needed to watch the Bentonville film and Conway’s last two games. Fortunately, Michelle understood and said they’d have to take a rain check on lunch.
They said goodbye and got into Michelle’s car. The conversation on the ten-minute drive home was mostly schedule and menu related. Max said he needed to spend the rest of the day at the field house watching film and would be home by six. Michelle said she’d make a run to the store and have dinner ready when he got home.
Neither of them noticed the car with the damaged front end following them home.
Chapter 50
Max panicked when he looked at the clock and saw it was 5:48. He was supposed to be home in twelve minutes, but there was still so much to do. He reached for his phone to call Michelle and let her know he’d be a couple more hours and to just hold dinner for him. Instead, he knew if he packed up now, hurried to his truck and didn’t hit any red lights, he might just get home by 6:03. He shut his laptop, gathered up his yellow legal pads and stuffed everything into his briefcase and hurried to his truck.
He started his truck and was about to back out of his parking spot when three police cars—lights and sirens on—entered the parking lot, pulled in behind him and blocked his path. From the loudspeaker on one of the cars, he heard, “Slowly exit the vehicle!” As he opened the door, he could see several officers were crouched behind their vehicles with guns drawn.
“Get on the ground! Face down! Hands out to your sides! Do it now!”
He couldn’t remember ever having a gun pointed at him. His legs were shaking as he got out of his truck and laid on the ground.
“Search the truck.” Max recognized Lieutenant Mitchell’s voice.
“Search my truck?” Max said. “What for?”
He didn’t get an answer. Suddenly, his arms were pulled behind his back and handcuffed. Next, he heard someone reading him his rights. Then he was yanked to his feet and found himself face to face with Lieutenant Mitchell along with three other Bentonville Police officers along with two more from Lakeside.
“You’re arresting me?” Max said. “For what?”
One of the Bentonville officers handed a plastic bag to Mitchell.
“Is that your truck, Mr. Henry?” Mitchell said, nodding to Max’s truck.
“You know that’s my truck. So what?”
“We just found this knife under your front seat, Mr. Henry. Look familiar?” Mitchell asked.
Max could see it was the pocketknife he always kept in his truck. He could also see what looked like dried blood on it. “So?”
“So is the knife yours?” Mitchell said.
“Maybe. So what?” Max said.
“So my guess is that when we test this dried blood, we’ll learn it was the knife used to kill Donnie Black,” Mitchell said. “Is there anything you’d like to tell us now? You could really help yourself.”
“You know where I was at the time of the murder. And so do twelve thousand other people. So you know it couldn’t possibly have been me.”
Mitchell and one of the other officers exchanged a look and whispered something to each other, then Mitchell said, “I believe your wife was at the game, wasn’t she?”
Chapter 51
Dinner was ready at six o’clock when she’d said it would be ready. But Max hadn’t showed. Or called. Michelle waited until 6:30 before calling him. She didn’t want to pull him away from the middle of whatever he was working on, but just wanted to know if she should keep his dinner warm or put it away for later.
He didn’t answer at 6:30. Or at 6:40. Or at 6:48. That’s when she called Willy. “Should I just wait until he comes h
ome? Do I keep calling him? I don’t know if he’s ignoring me or just forgot?”
“Let me ride up to the school and see what he’s up to,” Willy said. “My guess is he just lost track of time and probably hasn’t charged his phone. I’ll head up there now and let you know.”
Michelle couldn’t help wondering if he was having second thoughts about working things out. Maybe seeing her set him off again.
She found herself gently rubbing her stomach. Soon she’d be showing. Everything in her hoped the baby growing inside her belonged to Max. The question that made her shiver was what to do if it wasn’t. Two months ago, she was ready to spend the rest of her life with Chris. But in the weeks after she left New Jersey, he’d become a different person.
He became obsessed with her. When she ignored him, his texts and voice mails became hostile. When she responded, his tone went from pleading to threatening. It wasn’t until Max stepped in that he finally left her alone.
What was she going to do if Max called it quits? Stay in Lakeside? Who would get the house? She’d definitely have to go back to work, but that would be much harder with a baby. Could she get hired back with the Lakeside School District? Did it even make sense to stay in Lakeside?
She thought about moving to New Jersey. Her parents would welcome her for as long as she needed to stay with them. But being near Chris didn’t feel like an option. Not like it once had. She worked her fingers against her forehead, trying to rub away the beginning of a headache.
It was after seven and there was still no word from Max or Willy. Maybe Max was about to walk through the door. Maybe the baby was his. Maybe they could still enjoy a life together. Maybe it was all going to work out. She rubbed harder.
If only she wasn’t pregnant. She could have found a way to tell Max she’d had an affair. He would have been hurt but would have probably forgiven her. But a baby changed everything. The reminder of her transgression was growing inside her every day.
She wondered how she’d react if Max came one evening with a baby girl and saying it was his child by another woman and he wanted Michelle to love her and raise her as her own. Would she do it? Could she do it? Could she forgive?
Life would be so much less complicated right now if I wasn’t pregnant.
Chapter 52
What a difference twelve hours could make. That morning, he’d been questioned, but not detained. They had nothing to charge him with. Now he was in the back of a police car in handcuffs. He was able to see the time on the dashboard clock. It was 7:30. Michelle expected him ninety minutes ago. He wondered if she was more worried or angry. Or maybe she’d gotten used to him not coming home on time and was feeling neither.
“Hey, I need to make a phone call,” he said.
“You’ll get a phone call after you’ve been processed.” The officer went back to whatever paperwork he was doing.
After being fingerprinted and having mug shots taken, reality was setting in. This was a far different feeling than earlier in the day when he’d realized they had nothing on him and he’d gotten cocky. Maybe that was coming back to haunt him now. If he’d cooperated, if he’d been more courteous, then maybe they wouldn’t have come back for him.
After they were finished with him, they put him in a room by himself. It was an interview room with one of those two-way mirrors. He wondered if anyone was still fooled by those. Didn’t everyone know they were being watched from the other side? Maybe the police didn’t care that people knew.
He wiped the sweat from his forehead on his sleeve. The police knew he hadn’t killed Donnie Black. He literally had over ten thousand people who could corroborate his alibi. So why try to frame him if everyone knew his alibi was solid?
Someone had taken the knife from his truck, killed Donnie, and put it back for the police to find. The same person would have also told the police to look for it. But who would have taken his knife and used it to kill Donnie? If it wasn’t Donnie who was dead, he would have been the most likely person to suspect.
What were they even going to charge him with? Accessory to murder? Is that what it was called? Maybe they thought he wanted Donnie dead and had arranged for someone to kill him. If that was the case, did they really think he was dumb enough to drive around with a bloody knife under the seat of his truck? Someone was setting him up, but not even doing a very good job at it.
As Max was trying to figure it out, the door opened and Mitchell entered with another officer. He sat down across from Max and laid the plastic bag containing the knife on the table. The other officer stood behind Max, which made him uncomfortable. “We got the fingerprint results on the knife,” Mitchell said.
Max said nothing and waited for him to continue.
“Two sets of prints.”
“I suppose you’re going to tell me one set belongs to me,” Max said.
“Yes, Mr. Henry, one set belongs to you.”
“And the other belongs to?”
Mitchell looked at the other officer who was still standing behind Max. The other officer leaned close to Max and said, “Your wife.”
“So what?” Max said.
“Mr. Henry, maybe you’re not grasping the gravity of the situation,” Mitchell said. “Right now, we have a man who was murdered, a man you had a problem with, a man I’m guessing you wanted to see dead.”
Max waited for Mitchell to continue.
“Did Mr. Black ever threaten you?” Mitchell asked.
Max wasn’t sure how to answer. If he told the truth then it would probably look bad. If he lied and they found out or already knew Donnie had threatened him, then it could be worse. Maybe now was the time to ask for a lawyer. If he simply cooperated though, he might be able to clear this up and be home in an hour.
“Did Mr. Black ever threaten you?” Mitchell asked again.
“He said I should watch my back,” Max said.
“Huh,” Mitchell said.
“Very interesting,” the man behind him added.
“What’s so strange about that?” Max asked.
“I don’t know,” Mitchell said. “Seems a little ironic he’d tell you to watch your back and then he gets stabbed in his.”
That hadn’t occurred to Max. He had to admit it did sound strange. Of course, he wasn’t going to admit it.
“Mr. Henry, did Mr. Black ever threaten your wife?” Mitchell said.
“My wife? What are you talking about?” Max said.
The man behind Max leaned close again and said, “It’s a simple question. Did Mr. Black ever threaten your wife?”
Max tried to think. Had Donnie threatened Michelle? He wasn’t sure. But even if he had, it didn’t seem like a good thing to tell the police. Not now that Donnie was dead.
“Does your wife have keys to your truck, Mr. Henry?” Mitchell said.
“Of course, she has keys to my truck,” Max said. “Does your wife have keys to yours?”
“Have you and your wife been having problems, Mr. Henry?” Mitchell asked.
“What does that have to do with anything?” Max said. He wondered where they were headed with their questions.
“I understand the reason you were in New Jersey was because she’d left you,” the other man said.
Max turned around and felt the urge to grab the guy by the throat. He still had enough self-control to not try it although it looked like the guy hoped Max would try. There was nothing he’d like more than to wipe the smug grin off his face.
“My wife and I were having some issues, but we’re dealing with those now,” Max said. “So what’s your point?”
“Do I have to spell it out for you?” Mitchell said. “We found your knife in your truck with Mr. Black’s blood on it and only two sets of fingerprints. Yours and your wife’s. You said your wife has keys to your truck. And she may or may not have been threatened by Mr. Black. Am I right?”
If it was a football game, Max would have called timeout to slow the other team’s momentum and regroup. But it wasn’t a game. His only t
imeout would be to ask for a lawyer.
“So since we know you didn’t actually put the knife in Mr. Black’s back…,” Mitchell paused and looked at the man behind Max.
“We know where you were, but it seems that at some point during the fourth quarter of the game, your wife got up to use the restroom right after Mr. Black did,” Mitchell said. “Can you think of any possible reason why your wife may have killed Mr. Black and left the knife in your truck for us to find?”
