by James Dobson
Julia felt a rising nausea. “That’s what the Nazis said.” She sneered at horrendous evil once again hiding behind complicit weakness.
The room fell silent. The man’s story had been heard.
“Listen to me, Frank,” Alex finally said. “You need to turn yourself in to the police.”
“I told you, I did nothing wrong. Dimitri, he’s the guy they want.”
“Of course,” the pastor continued. “But it seems you’ve been a pawn in something far more ominous than you may realize. Something beyond what we can see with our eyes.”
Julia, sensing the same, looked at her pastor. He returned her gaze.
“I don’t believe it’s an accident that the two of you have been brought to this moment,” he began. “Frank, you told me you have been having dreams. Julia, so have you.”
She nodded in unison with the sound of Matthew’s sigh.
“You both asked me whether dreams carry meaning. Perhaps even a message. Well, here we are, together, receiving a message that couldn’t be clearer.”
“What message?” asked Matthew.
“Julia,” said Alex, inviting her to explain what she only now, only vaguely, perceived.
“I was wrong,” she began. “Life is a gift to receive and protect, not select and discard.”
“Then why did you write—”
“Forget what I wrote, Matthew,” she interrupted. “That was before I realized.”
“Realized what?” he asked skeptically.
She couldn’t find the words.
Alex intervened. “Julia has been growing in her understanding of what I said to you earlier today, Frank. Something the Bible calls repentance. Acknowledging you’ve been heading in the wrong direction, and turning around.”
“I told you before, I don’t believe in sin.”
“But you know yourself to be a sinner, don’t you, Frank?” He looked toward Julia. “Or should I say Matthew?”
The phone went silent.
“I can’t explain why, but I sense it’s no accident two people with similar dreams have been brought to this moment. God wants to save us from our own rebellion. He extends his hand, offering the grace of rescue. Julia took that hand. You can do the same, Matthew. Turn yourself in and start fresh.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Can’t, or won’t?”
“I haven’t done anything wrong.”
“All of us have sinned. All fall short of the glory of God.”
“I told you, I don’t believe in God,” Matthew said severely. “And you won’t call me Matthew. I’m an anonymous source. You promised.”
“I’ll honor our agreement,” said Julia. “But I need more details if I’m going to write a complete story. Can we meet face-to-face?”
“I’ve told you everything I can. Now please, do what I’ve asked.”
“But—”
The call ended.
“Oh, my,” said Mrs. Mayhew as if clicking off the television, “that certainly was exciting, wasn’t it?”
Julia met the pastor’s eyes. “What do you think he’ll do?”
“I don’t know,” he said, rubbing his temples. “All I know is that from the first time we met I sensed that man had a tortured soul, as if he had begun sliding toward madness. Now I fear something even worse.”
A brief silence.
“What was it he said?” Alex continued. “That he freed his mother to thrive?”
“That’s right,” Julia said with lamentation at her part in Matthew Adams’s descent.
“And then he mentioned the names of others he helped to transition, or, in his words, ‘free.’”
The pastor reached toward the coffee table, placing his hand on a large book. He rubbed the cover’s iconic image of the Madonna and child.
“I worry he now intends to ‘free’ someone else.”
“Such as?” Julia asked with alarm.
A tentative shrug. “Himself, perhaps?”
A cloud of heaviness settled over Julia. She reached one hand toward Mrs. Mayhew and the other toward Alex. “Please, Pastor,” she said, “will you pray?”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Kevin jumped out of the taxi as it approached the front door of University Hospital. His best friend stood waiting just inside. They embraced.
“How are they?” asked Kevin as they rushed toward the elevator.
“They’re fine,” said Troy. “Although your dad is a bit upset that you got on a plane so fast. He kept ordering me to call you off.”
“Let me guess. He said there’s no need to make a fuss.”
Troy smiled while pressing the elevator call button. “Exactly. Although your mom was glad to know you were on your way.”
“I wish I could have come sooner. It’s been, what, twelve hours since the attack? Any suspects yet?”
“You can ask the detective. He’s still here.”
They stepped onto the open elevator.
“Still here?” Kevin growled. “Why on earth isn’t he tracking down whoever did this to my parents?”
“Whoa, pal,” said Troy, placing a paw on his friend’s tense shoulder. “Take it easy. I told you, they’re going to be fine. They’ve been gathering clues. In fact, he’s interviewing Julia right now.”
“Why interview Julia?”
A single ding followed by opening elevator doors.
“Let’s just say she had an interesting morning.” He waved his hand to insist Kevin exit first. “But I’ll let you hear it from her directly.”
They turned left and walked about fifty steps.
“This is it,” said Troy as they approached the room. “You go ahead. They’ll want you all to themselves for a few minutes. I’ll be around the corner with Julia and the detective.”
Kevin eased the door open. He saw his mother sitting beside his father’s bed. They were holding hands, eyes fixed on a television screen mounted on the wall. Kevin smiled when he realized they were watching an episode of his mom’s favorite classic program, I Love Lucy. His dad had never even liked, let alone loved, Lucy. He had apparently lost the battle over programming preference, as usual.
With two raps on the door Kevin drew their attention away from the screen. His mother’s eyes instantly welled up with tears. She tried to stand but Kevin waved her back into her chair. He approached quickly, entering her outstretched arms while placing a firm hand on his dad’s shoulder.
“Are you two all right?” he asked.
“Fine,” said his father with a manly snort that betrayed tender emotion. “You shouldn’t have come. A bunch of fuss, that’s all.”
“I’m glad you’re here, Son,” overruled Kevin’s mom. She squeezed his neck tighter. “Very glad.”
“I got here as quick as I could.” He sat in the other chair.
“You shouldn’t have come at all,” his dad repeated.
“So you said.” Kevin winked toward his mom. “You look like an underdressed mummy,” he added while pointing at his father’s head bandage. “I’d hate to see the other guy.”
“Nailed him right in the ear with my old hiking boot. Your mother wanted me to get rid of those boots years ago.” He looked at his wife. “Good thing I didn’t listen, right, doll?”
She slapped his outstretched hand. “Hush,” she scolded. “Nobody cares about your crusty old boot.”
He turned back to Kevin. “Find a guy walking around with a size-ten boot print indented into the side of his head and you’ll find the culprit.”
They shared a chuckle.
“The police officer who called me this morning said there were two intruders.”
“That’s right. But I only nailed the one. The other guy was in the living room tying your mother to a chair. I’d have given him a full-facial whack if he hadn’t run so fast.”
“It’s a good thing he did run,” said Kevin’s mom. “You were lying on the ground bleeding. I thought you were dead.” A distraught sigh. “It was terrible. Just terrible!”
>
“It was just a little blood,” barked Kevin’s dad. “That wouldn’t have stopped me. There was no way I was going to let them harm my sweet bride. I wanted to kill someone when I saw her strapped down with those plastic zippy things like some kind of animal!”
Kevin felt his father’s anger fueling his own.
“Where is that detective anyway?” the elder continued. “We need to catch those guys before they try to invade some other home.”
Kevin stood and moved toward the door. “Let me check. He was talking to Julia Simmons.”
“Great!” said his dad with displeasure. “The detective is sipping coffee and chatting instead of chasing criminals.”
Kevin’s thoughts exactly.
He rounded the corner to find Julia, Troy, and a man he didn’t recognize. He had a shadow of dark stubble on his head and a small beard on his chin. He wore plain clothes with a badge that read “Denver Police” hanging from his belt.
The man leaped to his feet at Kevin’s approach while Julia rushed in for a consoling embrace.
“Oh, Kevin,” she said, “I’m so sorry.”
He patted her back. “Thanks for coming, Julia.”
The stranger extended his hand toward Kevin. “Congressman Tolbert, I’m Tyler Cain. We spoke earlier this morning.”
“Yes, of course,” he said while measuring the man’s grip. “My father and I would appreciate a briefing on what you know.”
“Certainly.”
The four moved into the hospital room for a consultation.
“Excuse me,” said a stern-looking nurse who had apparently slipped into the room to check her patient’s blood pressure. “We only allow three visitors at a time.”
Tyler removed the badge from his belt. “Police business,” he said assertively.
The nurse reached for a laminated plastic name tag hanging from her neck. “Hospital rules.”
“Please,” said Troy, “won’t you just give us a few minutes? The congressman’s parents were attacked in their home this morning. We need to figure out who was behind it and why.”
The nurse’s eyes widened, then she glanced at the name on his father’s chart. “Congressman…Tolbert?”
“That’s right,” said Kevin.
She smiled admiringly. “I voted for you.”
He quickly peered at her tag, “Thank you for that, Ms. Sledge, is it?”
“Please, call me Jill.”
“Jill then,” he said warmly.
The nurse looked at the others, then back at Kevin. “I just had my third baby,” she said, as if making a generous contribution to the congressman’s cause. The emotion in her voice caught Kevin by surprise.
“Thank you for that, also,” he replied.
She removed the blood pressure device from the senior Tolbert’s arm. “Let me just get this out of your way,” she said before scurrying out the door.
“Well,” said Kevin, taking command of the ensemble gathering around his father’s bed. “Tell us what you know.”
“We didn’t know much more than what I shared with you on the phone this morning until Mrs. Simmons here told me about a meeting she had with her pastor about an hour ago.”
Kevin looked at Julia. “Pastor Ware?” he asked, struggling to make a connection.
She relayed the odd story.
A mysterious message inviting her to meet at the church.
An anonymous note asking the pastor to hear the writer’s confession over the phone.
The hope that Julia would use the confession to expose an alleged assassin.
“Mrs. Simmons believes the anonymous confessor to be a man named Matthew Adams,” said Tyler.
Kevin tried unsuccessfully to place the name.
The detective continued. “We had him in custody last year for a while, but let him go when we learned he couldn’t have committed the murder.”
“Wait,” interrupted Kevin. “I don’t understand what any of this has to do with the attack on my parents.”
The detective pulled out his tablet and tapped the screen before handing it to the couple. “Do either of you recognize—”
“That’s him,” shouted Mr. Tolbert. “The guy I whacked with my boot!”
“Thank the Lord,” said Mrs. Tolbert. “You found him.”
“Not exactly,” explained Tyler. “This picture is about a year old, from when Mr. Adams was being held under house arrest until we could officially confirm his innocence.”
Mr. Tolbert frowned. “Great! You set him loose to continue the killing spree?”
“No, sir,” said the detective. “He didn’t kill the judge. I know that for a fact.”
“How?” asked Kevin.
“He was with me at the time of the murder. I had tracked him using what appeared to be threatening letters he had written to the judge. In fact, that’s when I first met Mrs. Simmons.”
Julia nodded at the mention. “Matthew is a former high school acquaintance who had a crush on my sister,” she explained. “Mr. Cain used Maria as the bait to reel him in.”
“But he was innocent then,” said Tyler.
“Well, he isn’t innocent now,” barked Mr. Tolbert. “That is definitely the man who attacked me.”
“Why would he want to kill my parents?”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to figure out,” said Tyler. “Like I said this morning, I’ve been investigating a string of similar incidents ever since I rejoined the force about a year back. But until now I’ve had no survivors who could provide positive identification.”
“But you just said this guy didn’t kill the judge. So how is he connected?”
The detective turned toward Julia. “That’s what Mrs. Simmons was about to explain when you walked up.”
Chapter Forty
Julia cleared her throat. “Well, during his phone confession this morning the anonymous voice claimed he had been framed for Santiago’s murder. He also said he had been tricked into doing something bad.”
“What kind of bad?” Tyler asked.
“He didn’t say. But he insisted it wasn’t anything illegal.”
The congressman spoke next. “Like a scheduled transition?”
“That would fit the other cases,” said Tyler. “All apparent volunteers.”
“So that’s why they claimed my husband made an appointment,” said Mrs. Tolbert.
“Well, what are you waiting for?” asked Kevin’s father assertively. “Go after the fool!”
“We would,” said Tyler, “if we knew where he was.” He looked at Julia. “Did you pick up any indications of where he might be heading next?”
“No. Nothing,” she said. “But he sounded pretty distraught. I got a very bad feeling. So did Pastor Ware. He’s afraid Matthew plans to do something dramatic.”
“Like?”
“Like take his own life, or possibly the life of the man he believes is behind all of this.”
“Who’s that?” asked Tyler.
Silence.
“Did he mention a name?” he pressed.
Julia hesitated. “I’m reluctant to say.”
He waited for more.
“You need to understand. I nearly destroyed a man’s reputation once before.” Julia looked toward Kevin with eyes full of regret. “I swore I wouldn’t let that happen again. All I know is what an anonymous source, a man desperate to pin the blame on someone else, has alleged. I need confirmation before I accuse anyone.”
“What about the pastor?” asked Tyler. “Do you think he might tell us?”
“He swore to keep the conversation confidential. All he agreed to do is confirm hearing the confession I report, which I intend to do as soon as I can substantiate details of the accusation.”
“What kind of details?” Tyler insisted.
“He claimed that the person who framed him did so by mimicking letters Matthew wrote.”
“I have those letters,” said Tyler. “They matched the alias of the letters your sister received. Remem
ber?”
She thought for a moment. “Who else saw those letters?”
“The assistant chief,” said Tyler. “Judge Santiago’s assistant. Oh, and Mrs. Santiago, of course, since the final letter came to her at the house.”
Julia shook her head thoughtfully. “The confession didn’t include any of those. He pinned it on someone pretty influential.”
A sudden realization pierced Tyler’s memory, a remote possibility he had tried to forget. There was one other name that he’d hoped would never cross his lips, that of a man he’d convinced himself had nothing whatsoever to do with the judge’s assassination. Because if he had, Tyler shuddered to think, Tyler himself would share the blame.
“He didn’t by chance mention a man named…Evan Dimitri?”
The room fell silent. Kevin and Troy appeared stunned while Julia simply nodded.
Tyler sighed deeply. “I was afraid of that,” he began. “But it fits.”
“Evan Dimitri of the Saratoga Foundation?” asked Troy.
More nodding.
Kevin spoke next. “Didn’t Dimitri write a large check to my reelection fund?”
“He did,” said Troy uneasily. “But more to the point, Dimitri is the big money behind Franklin’s run for the White House.”
“Do either of you know a reason Dimitri would want to see Judge Santiago dead?” Tyler asked.
“You bet,” said Troy. “Dimitri has a vested interest in protecting and expanding the Youth Initiative.”
“What kind of interest?”
“He controls the serum of choice used by NEXT Transition clinics.”
“He owns PotassiPass?” Tyler asked as if finding another piece of the puzzle.
“And a dozen other related businesses, I’d bet.”
That’s when Tyler noticed Kevin Tolbert’s head fall into his hands. “I’m so sorry,” he said.
“What do you have to be sorry for?” asked Mr. Tolbert.
“I think I know what’s going on. And it means I put the two of you at risk.”
“How?” asked his mother.
“Dimitri hates my Bright Spots proposal, or at least the parts that run counter to the Youth Initiative. He knows I’m speaking at the convention next week. He knows a large bloc of voters like my message.”
