At exactly ten o’clock, she parked in front of Elena’s perfect house and made her way up the perfect flagstone walkway to the perfect front door, all the while battling resentment that her former boss had cost her the chance at the same perfection. Maybe Jason would make it possible again.
Consuela answered on the first ring, her eyes glancing around furtively. “Come in.” She didn’t stop at the living room, but bustled to the back of the house and out to a stone patio overlooking a large pool. Wisps of steam rose from the water into the frigid air. The woman kept walking and didn’t stop until they reached a noisy waterfall that flowed into the pool. She motioned to two metal patio chairs and fastened her gaze on Grace as they sat. “I don’t have long. Jessie is sleeping and I never know when Elena will choose to come home.”
“Are you in danger?”
The older woman’s eyes held fear. “I believe Elena is involved in something dangerous. That is why I moved us out here. The house may have ears.”
Her breath caught in her chest for a long moment. So her suspicions had been correct. “Any idea what she’s involved in?”
Consuela shook her head. “I only know that a man arrived in a chauffeured car last night. After he left, I went to check on her, and she was crying.” The woman twisted her hands in her lap.
“What did the man look like?”
“Older. Wealthy. Powerful.”
Great, she could have described any number of people. “What can I do to help?”
She reached into the pocket of her apron and withdrew a jagged slip of yellow paper. “I found this in Elena’s trash can. She usually shreds everything, but missed this. Can you check it for me? I’d do it myself, but I’m afraid the house . . . ” Her words died away as she glanced toward the house, the terror in her eyes more pronounced.
Grace took the paper and nodded. A phone number. “I’ll see what I can do.” She latched on to Consuela’s arm to catch her full attention. “Promise me you’ll call if there’s any trouble.”
The woman nodded and stood, obviously agitated and nervous. “You need to go now.”
“Quick question. What do you know about Jason Dent?”
Confusion bathed the other woman’s face in a frown. “I do not know him. Now, go!”
She wasted no time in doing exactly what Consuela said.
20
Matt pulled the cell phone from his pocket, praying Sandra hadn’t already left for the day. One phrase Justin used in their recent phone conversation kept nibbling at his brain—‘the people you least suspect.’
He hurriedly tapped the numbers on the screen of his smartphone and brought it to his ear. How many people had he asked about Jason Dent, and they’d all said nothing but good things. And in spite of the nagging suspicion in his gut, he’d let their opinion sway his own.
As the phone rang on the other end, Matt glanced over his left shoulder. The guys in the band were still setting up the equipment for a Monday night company Christmas party and concert.
“Tyler, Dent, Snodgrass, and Rowe, this is Sandra, how may I help you?” She ran the words together in one sentence, obviously in a hurry to end the day and get home to her family.
“Hey, Sandra. Matt Tyler here.”
“Hey. If you’re calling to talk to Andy, he’s not here at the moment. May I help you?”
Perfect. “As a matter of fact, you can. I need Jason Dent’s birth date. Can you get it for me?” He held his breath, fearful she’d ask why.
“Sure. Hang on.”
He released a relieved breath. Canned music streamed through the phone line for a few minutes, but Sandra returned in record time. “May 6, 1978.”
“Thanks, Sandra. You’re a doll.”
Matt powered down his phone and checked the band’s progress. They were still setting up and more than likely miffed at him for not helping. It couldn’t be helped, and he had no time to explain that this was far more important.
He hurried out the door opposite the stage and into the alley where the investigator he’d hired waited near a smelly dumpster. The retired cop had come highly recommended for his investigation skills. He handed the slip of paper with Jason’s info to the man. “This is the guy I need you to research. Goes by Jason Dent, and his birthday is May 6, 1978. He’s currently an attorney in Miller’s Creek.”
“Got it.” The wiry man folded the slip of paper and stuffed it in his wallet.
“Please let me know any information as soon as you get it, okay?” Matt made eye contact with the guy to make sure he got the point. “Someone’s life might depend on it.”
A wisp of smoke spiraled from Matt’s mouth into the cold December day as he watched the man turn the corner and disappear from view. Lord, help him find answers as soon as possible. Anxiety once more gnawed on his brain, and no matter how hard he tried to quell his runaway thoughts, he couldn’t. Last night he’d awakened in the wee hours of the morning, overwhelmed with fear for Gracie. And even though Andy thought she was fine, he could no longer ignore his troubled feelings. He checked his watch and strode to the door. Time to get inside and do his part.
The evening whizzed by. As they finished up the last set, the private investigator entered and took a seat near the stage. Once the final song ended, Matt hurried to where he sat munching on peanuts and pulled out a chair. “Find out anything?”
“Yeah, but I don’t think you’re gonna like it. The man supposedly born on the date you gave me doesn’t exist. There are plenty of Jason Dent’s out there, but none born on that day or living in the Miller’s Creek area.”
Matt frowned. “You’re positive?”
“Yep.” He crunched a few more nuts.
“So whoever this guy is, he’s someone besides Jason Dent. But why would he do that?” All sorts of unsavory possibilities ran through his mind.
The investigator shrugged. “Don’t automatically assume the guy’s a criminal or wanted. Sometimes it’s for legitimate reasons.”
“Such as?”
“Maybe an unfortunate accident that would be associated with him for life if he kept the same name. Or perhaps he’s operating undercover for his real job.”
“You mean a spy?”
The guy’s brows disappeared under his shaggy hair. “Or someone like me.”
Matt considered the statement. It could be true, but the possibility still existed that he wasn’t a good guy at all. He reached in his back pocket, removed his wallet, and handed the guy the agreed upon amount. “Thanks for your time.”
“Sure thing.” The man pocketed the money and exited through the side door.
Matt’s mind whirled. Now what? Andy deserved to know that his law partner wasn’t really named Jason Dent. More importantly, Gracie needed to know. But how could he tell her if she wouldn’t answer her phone? He rubbed a hand across his mouth and eyed the clock. Too late to call tonight anyway. It would just have to wait until first thing in the morning.
With a weary sigh, he trudged up the steps to the stage to help tear down and load the equipment. He removed his guitar from its stand and ambled to the case which sat beneath a speaker tower that Derek disassembled. Matt snapped the last latch on his case as Derek’s voice cried out. “Matt, watch it!”
He looked up as a speaker sped toward him. Then everything went black.
Grace peered around the unfamiliar landscape. Where was she? A pristine country church, its steeple scraping bullet-gray skies, lay beside plowed fields. Distant trees, leaves missing, took on a haunting persona in the dense fog as they stretched out brown claws.
Her legs attempted to shift position, but felt leaden and heavy. She sensed that she needed to figure this out. Needed to understand so she could make the right decision. The white tent above her head rippled and popped in a brief burst of cold wind, then sagged, dead-still.
A congregation of people she knew and loved sat in perfectly-placed rows of metal folding chairs atop fake turf. The unfamiliar place reminded her of a graveside service where heavy
rains had left a muddy mess.
A frown creased her forehead. The people didn’t talk or smile or even move. Like cardboard cutouts they sat, apathetic and uncaring, unable to help. A center aisle stretched down the narrow, makeshift church, and men in dark suits gathered at the back, ready to proceed down the corridor of plastic grass. Grace was suddenly aware of someone behind her. She turned.
Dressed in an exquisitely-tailored black suit, Jason ducked beneath the tent top, his face cold and expressionless. In one hand he carried a Bible. With his lips molded in a grim line, he nodded to the men in back, and they advanced, their faces long and somber.
When they reached the front they spread out in a straight line and revealed two suited men who accompanied Matt. In his normal attire of jeans, t-shirt, and flip-flops, his hands were bound and his ankles shackled.
At the sight of his ropes and chains her throat grew dry and gravelly, and she jerked her gaze to his face. His eyes held an incredible sorrow, like she’d somehow let him down. Or had he let her down? She lowered her head and for the first time noticed the forest-green trench coat she wore. Her hands, stuffed in the pockets, shifted until she gripped something cool and hard.
A gun.
Grace trembled as her hand conformed to the pistol, her index finger against the trigger.
Jason nodded to the men once more, and like menacing shadows, they advanced toward Matt. Heart racing, she attempted to pull the gun from her pocket. He had to be stopped. But her hand froze in place. She couldn’t do it. Couldn’t force herself to repay evil with evil, no matter the cost.
Far-away voices sounded, but none of the cardboard people moved their lips. A rapping sound broke through the foggy mist. With a moan, she stirred and sat up in bed, the dream more vivid than reality. What time was it?
The bedroom door cracked ever so slightly. “Sorry to wake you, la hija, but I wanted to let you know I was home.”
Grace scrambled from the bed. “Papa! I’m so glad to see you. I missed you.” She engulfed him in a hug, which he surprisingly returned.
“I missed you, too. There is someone I want you to meet.” He smiled at her then motioned down the hallway for someone to join him.
Every nerve in her being instantly snapped to attention as footsteps pattered outside her door. What was going on? Was she still dreaming?
A round Hispanic woman with a beautiful smile stepped into view, and Papa put an arm around her shoulder. “Graciela, meet my new wife, Maria.”
Her jaw unhinged as his words landed a blow. In a daze, she somehow managed to move forward and shake the woman’s hand, but couldn’t find her voice.
A reprimand moved into Papa’s eyes, and he opened his mouth to give words to the stern look, but the woman placed a hand on his arm. “It’s late, Juan. I am sure Graciela is tired. Why don’t we talk about this in the morning over breakfast, hmm?”
Her father smiled at the woman still tucked protectively beneath his arm and nodded. “Si.” He turned his gaze back to Grace. “Goodnight, la hija.” Without another word, he pulled the door closed, leaving her standing there with her mouth agape.
Grace fell back on the bed. First the dream and now this. Her brain flip-flopped between the two, neither making much sense. Why had Jason appeared as the bad guy in her dream, when he’d done nothing but show her kindness after kindness? Earlier that day he’d called to let her know that he not only had a job lined up for her in Bellview, but a place to live as well.
She brought both palms to her face and rubbed her sleepy eyes. The dream had nothing to do with Jason and everything to do with her worries of starting a new life in a new location. And now that Papa had a wife, moving away was for the best. She would just be in the way here.
Grace gauged her feelings about Papa having a wife. Never had she imagined he would remarry. Though it hurt that Mama had been replaced in his affections, another part of her rejoiced to see him happy again. A soft curve settled on her lips. Nothing could bring Mama back, so it was good that Papa had found someone who could make him happy.
A shiver moved up her spine, and for the first time since Papa’s news, she took note of her bare feet on the cold floor. Grace rushed to the dresser, located a pair of wooly socks, and slipped them on. Next she removed her thick winter robe from the hook on the back of the door and wrapped it around her. There would be no going back to sleep now. Papa was married!
A sudden rush of energy hummed in her chest. Yes, it was late, and yes, she was wide awake, but it was all good. She’d use the time to pack her clothes and get ready for the move.
An hour later, spent from her late-night packing spree, she positioned the last suitcase in the corner and yawned. After she returned her robe to its hook, she crawled into bed and clicked off the lamp. Her head had barely hit the pillow when her cell phone buzzed. Sleepily, she eyed the alarm clock’s bright red numbers. Who could be calling after midnight?
She squinted at the light as she turned on the lamp and reached for the phone. The display read ‘unknown.’
“Hello?”
No answer.
Grace dropped the phone to the bed as if it were hot. She’d purchased the cell phone to escape the anonymous calls, but obviously whoever wanted to scare her now had her number. Her brain whizzed through the possibilities. Finally she decided that Elena must have found the card she’d given Consuela. Without hesitation, she turned off the phone and crawled back into bed.
The next morning Grace entered the kitchen, dressed and ready for the day, curious about the new woman in her father’s life, but also dreading the news she had to deliver. She’d promised Jason she would be in Bellview in time to work that afternoon.
Papa and Maria stood at the stove, both busy with preparations for breakfast. The mouth-watering smell of chorizo wafted from a sizzling skillet.
“Good morning.”
The other two turned at her greeting. Papa laid down his spatula and made his way to her, engulfing her in an embrace. What had come over the man who a few short weeks ago had refused to even make eye contact with her? As he pulled away, Grace once more marveled at the miraculous change.
“Good morning, la hija. You slept well, si?”
She chose not to answer. Instead, she smiled shyly at the woman whisking the eggs.
“Buenos dias, Graciela. I hope you were able to get back to sleep after we woke you.” She placed the bowl on the counter, and wiped her hands on her apron. “You look very pretty.”
As Papa and Maria turned back to the food, a sudden rush of comfort flowed through her. In spite of the recent chain of disasters, God’s grace was still at work. How happy Papa seemed, and all due to this woman she barely knew.
A few minutes later, they sat down to dine on breakfast burritos wrapped in fresh homemade tortillas. At first the conversation seemed forced and awkward, and an uncomfortable silence developed.
Papa cleared his throat and laid down his burrito. “Graciela, I want you to know that although I love Maria very much, it doesn’t mean I love your Mama any less.” He paused, his frown bearing testimony to deep thought and careful attention to his words. “I didn’t do this on a whim. Maria and I’ve known each other for many years. We grew up next door to one another and were childhood sweethearts before she went away to school. I know it must seem to you that I’ve gone loco, but when we saw each other, it was like we were young again. Like it was meant to be. I hope you understand.”
Grace nodded, glad he’d shared the story. It somehow helped to know that he hadn’t just gone to Mexico for the purpose of finding a woman. “Thank you for explaining, Papa. I can tell you and Maria are very happy, and I’m elated for you both.”
“I hope we haven’t made you late for work.” Papa said, joy still inscribed on his face.
The perfect opportunity to share her news had fallen into her lap, but it still wouldn’t be easy. “Actually I need to talk with you about that. I’ve taken a job in Bellview that starts today. I need to leave pretty soon to al
low myself time to unpack. If it’s okay, I’d like to use the old pickup until I can afford to buy a car.”
A heavy cloud descended on Papa’s face as she spoke, and he looked ready to explode.
Maria noticed the approaching storm and laid a hand over his. “A new job. How exciting. Isn’t it wonderful, Juan?” She sent Grace an understanding smile.
“You are no longer working in Morganville?” Papa’s face and voice held familiar gruffness.
She shook her head. “It didn’t work out, Papa. I don’t really have time to explain it now, but I promise to write you a letter once I get settled into my new place.”
“So you have a place to live?”
“Yes, and I’ll be fine. Please don’t worry. This is for the best, and I’ll be back in a few weeks for Christmas.”
He still looked doubtful.
“Graciela is right.” Maria patted his hand. “She’s a grown woman now with her own life to lead. This is a good thing.”
Papa gazed into his new wife’s eyes for a long minute before he finally nodded. “Yes, it is good.” He turned his gaze to Grace with a sad smile. “Go, with my blessing, la hija, but I would like that letter sooner rather than later.”
After sending them both an appreciative smile, Grace rose to her feet and carried her plate to the sink. Papa moved up beside her, wrapped an arm around her shoulder, and drew her in close. “I hope you know how much I love you, Graciela.” Unshed tears glistened in his eyes.
Grace planted a kiss on his weathered cheek. “And I love you, Papa.”
A half hour later, she backed onto the dirt road and waved at Papa and Maria one last time. The old house seemed somehow brighter with the fresh start of the couple standing nearby, the future ripe with possibility. And now, with the mistakes from the past behind her, God in His great mercy had given her the opportunity for a do-over as well. More than anything, she needed to get it right this time around.
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The Way of Grace (Miller's Creek Novels) Page 23
