Final Verdict

by Jessica R. Patch

  “I think I know where Trevor Russell is. When we get back from Richfield, I’m going to go check it out. He has a fishing buddy that owns a cabin about fifty miles south of here.” Beckett helped Aurora inside the vehicle.

  “I still can’t believe he’d do all this. I’ve seen him at church. And he’s a youth leader.”

  “Christians aren’t immune to grief, pain, anger or feelings of revenge. Trust me. If we don’t let God deal with those emotions—if we entertain them—we can end up in a very dark place. At the very least, bitter and cynical.” Even King David—a man after God’s own heart—committed murder. “We can fall fast, Aurora.”

  “I kind of gave up on my faith after Richie.” Aurora gave a half shrug, uncertainty on her face. “But I feel guilty for that, too.”

  She seemed to feel guilty about everything. Beckett related. “Join the club.”

  “But you go to church faithfully.”

  “And I sit there as confused and unsure as any man. I don’t only believe in God. I know Him. I don’t understand Him and that bothers me. Evil should be punished and good rewarded, but it never seems to work that way.”

  “I agree. But we can’t give up hope, can we?”

  He had. Until recently. Until Aurora had opened his eyes to start seeing some good again. “I suppose not.”

  They pulled around back and parked, then Beckett followed her through the rear entrance and into the kitchen. A few teenage girls he recognized hustled and bustled to make special coffees and menu items. The sounds of laughter wafted from the front; the smell of freshly brewed espresso and cinnamon made his mouth water.

  Aurora shrugged out of her coat and moved the stainless-steel machine a hair forward. “Did you move this?” she asked Katelynn.

  “No. I don’t even try anymore.” Katelynn gave the machine the death stare. Was she mentally threatening it to work? With that expression, he’d get straight into working order if he was a coffee machine.

  Aurora squinted and stared at the espresso machine.

  “What’s the matter?” Beckett asked.

  “I don’t know.” She squatted and peered behind the stainless-steel counter. “Have you used it yet this morning?”

  “A few times, but then it locked up. Not like before.” Katelynn jerked her head when someone hollered for her. “Guess I’ll tell them to order regular coffee.” She sped off, muttering how boring that would be.

  “I hate this thing. Can you believe there isn’t even a warranty on it?” Aurora said as she scooched further behind the counter and unplugged the machine.

  “I say nothing beats a good cup of black coffee.”

  “You would. Can you hand me that pink tool kit over there? I need to open the back of the machine, jiggle the wires.”

  The pink tool kit. Nice. “Yes, because one needs to look girlie while doing—”

  “If you say men’s work, you die.” She snickered as he opened the tool kit and removed a screwdriver.

  “I was going to say handiwork.”

  “Sure you were.” She held out her hand.

  “I can do it.”

  “So can I.”

  He admired her tenacity. “Yes, ma’am.” Gently, he laid the screwdriver in her palm, and she went to work loosening the screw.

  “Huh.”

  “What?”

  “Feels tighter than I normally turn it.” She leaned into it and grunted as she worked to unloosen the screw. “Seriously.”

  Beckett slipped the tool from her hand. “You the only one who opens the machine and jiggles the wires?”

  “Unfortunately.”

  The screws were definitely tight, but he undid them and handed Aurora the screwdriver. He lifted the backing off and was hit with a wave of panic. “Move! Right now. Go!”

  Aurora froze, then glared. “What on earth is wrong with you? And don’t order me! I’m not a McDonald’s menu item.”

  He didn’t have time for fluffy and sweet. “Counselor, you unplugged the espresso machine and activated a dead man’s switch.”

  “A dead man’s switch...a bomb!” Aurora’s flushed face blanched and she shook her head vehemently. “I’m not leaving without you! Can you deactivate it?”

  Pressure built in his chest. Inside the espresso machine was plenty of dead space, and someone had planted a brick of C-4 with a digital timer attached. Someone had to know the espresso machine messed up often and Aurora would come to fix it, unplugging it, which had been the catalyst.

  “Aurora,” he said as calmly as possible, fear riding a tidal wave through his bones. “I want you to calmly but quickly go into the dining area. Tell them there’s a gas leak. Nothing to worry about, but the fire department is on their way and they need to evacuate. Then call the fire department.”

  He turned to make sure she registered his words. Like a deer in headlights. No one would believe her. “Aurora, send Katelynn. Tell her there’s a gas leak.” He repeated his lines. No point having a stampede out there with the words “bomb threat.” Not until he could turn the timer and see how much time they had. If he could get them out calmly, that was the way to go. If not, he’d cross that bridge when he got there. “Now. Then get out. I mean it.”

  Aurora paused, then bolted for the cashier station.

  Beckett prayed, hoping God would hear and save them all. Did he have time to deactivate it? He didn’t even have any tools!

  Aurora rushed back to his side. “I told Katelynn. What can I do, Beckett?”

  He worked carefully to turn the bomb. The timer wasn’t facing him. He had to know how much time they had.

  Any second they could all be blown to bits.

  “I told you what you can do,” he snapped. “Get out of here. Now.”

  Aurora rushed into the café and returned once more. This wasn’t the time to ignore him.

  “I told you to go,” he said with force. He wanted her out. Unharmed. And this instant.

  “Beckett, people aren’t leaving fast enough! My employees are still working.”

  He moved at a snail’s pace, careful not to bump the bomb. To set it off.

  The timer turned and he read the minutes and seconds.

  Oh, God. Help us!

  “How many people are left, Aurora?”

  “Like twenty or so. They—”

  “No time! Go!” He needed to get them out. All of them. There was enough C-4 to take out the whole building.

  “What’s happening?” Katelynn shrieked.

  Aurora pushed Katelynn through the back door. Beckett flew to the front. Time to cross the bridge. “Ladies and gentlemen, ya’ll got to go this second. We have a bomb threat.”

  That put them in gear and caused a major panic.

  Women hollered and grabbed their children. Men ushered them out the front door like a herd of cattle.

  Sirens blared in the distance.

  Aurora came through the front door into the dining area, helping shove people outside.

  “What are you doing back in here? Get out!”

  “I’m not leaving without you, Beckett!” Aurora screamed, determination set in her eyes.

  When the last person was out, Beckett worked on crowd control with the fire department. Police cruisers arrived. Where was Aurora? She had been right beside him two seconds ago.

  Beckett checked his watch.

  Sixty seconds left.

  Police and firefighters evacuated the area.

  Katelynn stood on the sidelines crying.

  He fought his way over to her. “Where’s Aurora?”

  “Johnna was in the bathroom. She’s eight weeks pregnant and—”

  “Where is Aurora?” he boomed.

  “She went back in for Johnna!”

  Forty-three seco
nds.

  No!

  TEN

  Aurora couldn’t leave Johnna. Only eight weeks pregnant, she’d been locked up in the bathroom vomiting. She had no clue what was going on. Aurora ran in the back entrance for fear no one would let her inside the front, her feet nearly coming out from under her.

  Her whole body shook; even her teeth chattered. She had no idea how much time she had, but if she didn’t go back in for Johnna what kind of person did that make her?

  “Johnna!” she called, adrenaline racing through her veins. “Johnna!” She banged on the employee restroom door but no answer. She opened it.

  Empty.

  Had she gone out the front when Aurora came in the back?

  A noise sounded and she whipped to the right. Johnna exited the walk-in freezer. “What’s going on? Sorry. I got hot after I got sick. I hope—”

  “Aurora!” Beckett’s voice bellowed and echoed off the walls from the café area.

  “We have to go, Johnna. Bomb!”

  Johnna’s face turned white and she bolted out the back door, no questions asked.

  Aurora raced through the kitchen, past the barista workstation to the dining area. “Beckett!”

  Beckett rushed her, mad and wild fear in his eyes, but as they locked on hers they revealed it wasn’t fear for him, but her. Before she had a chance to run or utter a word, he tackled her like a force of nature, knocking the breath out of her.

  His body enveloped her like a secure glove. “Tuck your head and close your eyes!”

  She tucked as an earth-pounding boom overpowered her own thoughts, the blast sending them through the air and forward, searing heat licking at her.

  Ears ringing, she shrieked bloody murder.

  Stings pricked her skin.

  Dear God in heaven! They were going straight through her storefront window like a rocket into space. She couldn’t be sure if it was from the blast or if Beckett had propelled them through to safety.

  Sirens.

  Shouts.

  Screams.

  Smoke.

  Fire.

  Everything felt like slow motion, but it happened so fast her head swam. Beckett flipped in the air onto his back and landed with a horrifying thud on the cracked sidewalk littered with shards of debris and glass.

  Aurora’s head snapped upon impact, and she rammed Beckett’s chin with her nose, warmth suddenly flowing. She let out a cry as the blood dripped into her mouth, and she coughed and sputtered as dirt and smoke filled her lungs. Her eyes burned.

  First responders rushed to their aid, asking questions and prying her away from Beckett.

  He wasn’t moving.

  Beckett wasn’t moving!

  Move! “Beckett! Beckett!” she wailed.

  A frenzy of people crowded and separated them, dragging her away.

  Her ears rang, and sounds were muffled.

  “We have him, ma’am. We need to get you medical attention.”

  Firefighters worked on dousing the blazes.

  A throng of onlookers stood by, fright and shock on their faces. Some videoed with their cell phones.

  “Bomb. There was a bomb,” she said as they wrapped a black wool blanket around her and loaded her in the back of an ambulance. “I’m fine. I’m fine!” she hollered, and craned her neck for Beckett.

  Beckett wasn’t moving.

  “Miss Daniels, you have several lacerations and abrasions that need medical attention, and not that I need to remind you, but you flew about six feet through a glass window. You’re not fine. You’re in shock.” She registered the young man who frequented Sufficient Grounds speaking to her but couldn’t recall his name.

  “But where is Sheriff Marsh? Is he okay? I need to know he’s okay!” He’d come back in for her. If he was hurt... If he was... She couldn’t possibly bear the blood of one more person on her hands.

  A Scripture long forgotten sprang to mind: “Give your burdens to the Lord, and He will take care of you.”

  Could she? How? How did she give her burdens to the Lord without taking them back? She’d tried before and failed. Lord, I don’t know what to do! I’m not deserving. I failed Richie. I failed Oliver and Hayden. I failed You! So many times. Had she ever truly trusted God with her problems? The ones she couldn’t fix on her own? The ones she might have fixed better had she asked Him to help?

  Carrying around this guilt wasn’t healthy. But every time she tried to let it go, every single mistake she’d ever made played on a repeated loop in her mind.

  “Aurora!” Blair McKnight fought the crowd and pushed her way to Aurora’s side. “You’re in one piece. Thank You, God.” Blair hugged her neck and scowled when first responders brushed her away.

  “Beckett. Have you seen him? Is he gonna make it?”

  Blair’s eyes filled with tears.

  No. He had to be all right.

  “Spit it out, Blair. I can’t take it.”

  Blair covered her mouth. “I don’t know. I heard someone say something about a chopper flying him to the Med in Memphis. But I can’t get close enough to see anything. Holt’s leaving Memphis now. Coming home. But I’ll ride with you to the hospital.” She ignored the man who’d been talking to Aurora and climbed inside without any protest from the EMT.

  At the hospital, they picked shards of glass from her skin, cleaned wounds and gave her three stitches on her hand. Beckett had taken the brunt and she’d yet to hear any word on him.

  Blair stayed by her side, uttering quiet prayers and rubbing her back. “Aurora, whatever Beckett did, he did to protect you. Please don’t beat yourself up. I know that face. I felt the same way when Holt put himself in danger for me.”

  Aurora blinked back tears. “It’s hard not to beat myself up. I’m responsible.”

  “No, you’re not. Whoever set that bomb is. And Beckett is a grown man who makes his own choices. He chose to go back in after you. He chose to get involved. And, if my suspicions are right, he’s chosen to love you.”

  “Love is strong emotion.” So was guilt. “I don’t want to have this guilt-noose around my neck, but I don’t know how to let go, to wiggle loose. Whatever I need to do to be free.” She had no peace.

  Blair settled next to her on the hospital bed. “Aurora, you of all people should understand what it means to advocate for someone, to stand before a jury and judge and plead a case, a cause, and fight to declare a defendant innocent—even if they’re guilty of the crime.”

  Aurora stared at her stitches, wincing at the tenderness. Or maybe it was the tenderness in her heart. “What’s your point?”

  “Jesus stood as an advocate for you. While the mud was slung and you were accused before the judge of all your sins, guess what? Jesus stood right there and defended you. Knowing you were guilty, but dying so you could have a clean slate. Like you did with Austin Bledsoe. Wiping the slate clean for him in a sense so he could have a second chance and turn from his mistake.”

  Aurora had never pictured Jesus as an advocate, an attorney. But He had pleaded her cause. Defended her. Declared her innocent and set her free, but she was still trying to convict and sentence herself to punishment.

  “Aurora?”

  She focused on Blair.

  “Accept God’s grace. Tell yourself it’s permissible to move forward without the guilt.”

  Maybe it was time.

  Blair’s words from days earlier struck her core.

  A man who’s willing to sacrifice his life for you is more than worth admiring. He’s worth loving.

  Isn’t that exactly what Jesus had done for her? Sacrificed His life out of love for her? Had she really given Him a chance? She’d spent most of the time pushing Him away because she didn’t feel worthy enough to accept the amazing gift He’d offered.


  Grace.

  Forgiveness.

  He’d paid a debt she should have.

  Like Hayden had paid for a debt Aurora owed. Even if Oliver Benard was using forgiveness on a false pretense, she could still forgive herself and stop dragging a fatal mistake around with her every day. She had an advocate working on her behalf. Declaring her innocent. “But Richie deserves to have his name cleared.”

  “I’m not telling you to stop fighting or advocating for clients. I’m telling you it’s time to live. To trust that God does love you and cares what happens to you. I’m telling you to take off the gloves and quit pounding yourself. Quit letting the enemy pummel you.”

  She’d told Beckett he thought he was God, acting as judge. But Aurora had been playing God a little bit, too. Carrying burdens she shouldn’t. Lord, forgive me. Help me to forgive myself and lift the guilt off me. Help me to surrender it all to You. And help Beckett.

  A sense of peace settled over her and she dared to think she felt a degree lighter just from confessing she’d been carrying problems and anguish she was never intended to carry.

  “Where is she?”

  Aurora snapped up her head. Beckett!

  She jumped off the hospital bed and flinched, then there he was standing in her doorway, head bandaged and looking the worse for wear but not in the Med.

  “You’re alive!” She ran to him and threw herself against him. He gave a small grunt but wrapped his arms around her.

  “Of course I’m alive.”

  “But I heard you were being medevaced to the Med.”

  “I don’t have time for all that.” His voice quieted. “I had to see about you.”

  Aurora touched his bandage. “Your head.”

  “Hard as a rock. Bumps and bruises, maybe a stitch or two, but I’m in working order. How about you?” He held her hand in his. “I hate this.”

  “I’m functional.” She sighed relief. Thank You, God. Thank You. She suspected Beckett was giving her the fluffy version of his health, but he was standing there. And talking. Walking. She’d take it. “Was anyone else hurt?”

  “Some minor injuries, but we got everyone out in time. Thanks to God for that. However, you can kiss your café goodbye. And, on either side of you, the florist shop and the eye doctor’s office.” Beckett finally seemed to notice Blair, who’d remained quiet by the bed. “Holt called while I was getting fixed up. He’s on his way home.”