“No, that’s fine. I just wanted to verify that he wasn’t the one who killed James before I talked to him any further.”
A small chuckle filled her ear. “That man wouldn’t kill a bug, much less a person. He’s one of the few in this city you could trust with your life. But know that I’ll be following up with him about this tomorrow.”
After thanking the detective, she ended the call and turned back to the door.
She reached up to the chain and hesitated. Did she really want to do this?
Yes. This man had known James. Maybe he’d be able to fill in some of the gaps from the last three years.
She unhooked the chain and twisted the locks before she could change her mind.
Zeke made no move to enter until she gestured for him to come in. Even at that, he took only four steps beyond her before stopping.
After securing the door behind him, she turned to find him standing precisely where he’d stopped. A gentle smile curled his mouth, revealing straight white teeth. The smile extended to his eyes…
She couldn’t help staring. Purple. Like the color of the hyacinth that bloomed in front of her parents’ house every year.
With his dark hair and olive skin tone, the color looked anything but natural and yet it suited him somehow.
Colored contacts? Had to be. No one had eyes that color. No one.
She shook her head. She really needed to pull it together. “So how did you know where to find me?”
“God directed me.”
Almost exactly what Zander said he’d say. The detective must know Zeke well.
A duffel bag that she hadn’t noticed before caught her attention. The long strap crossed Zeke’s chest, the bag resting awkwardly by his hip. The lumpy contents strained the nylon and pulled at the strap.
She flitted her fingers toward the kitchen. “Let’s have a seat.”
Leading the way, she settled in her usual chair at the dining room table. Zeke took the chair opposite her, the one JJ usually occupied, and gently lowered the bag to the yellowed vinyl floor.
“I’m sorry to intrude, especially today, on a day of such great loss. You have my deepest sympathy.”
Dull pain throbbed in her head, but strangely not in her heart. “I lost James a long time ago. Today only made it official.”
That sounded cold. Yet she felt no need to try to soften the words.
Nor did Zeke look shocked or offended. “He’s been gone a while?”
“Over three years.” Her gaze strayed toward the hallway past the living room. “We’d just found out I was pregnant with Becca. He seemed ecstatic. Then a week later he never came home.”
The shock of that day flooded her. The concern when he didn’t come home at his regular time. The fear when she couldn’t reach him on his cell. The panic when evening turned to night. The sleepless night calling the police and all the area hospitals and walk-in clinics.
She’d even called the morgue.
“He went to work as usual but I never saw him again. It wasn’t until the next day that I learned he’d acted erratically at work, prompting a drug test, which he failed. They fired him.” She shook her head slowly. “When I took a closer look at our finances, I saw that there was a lot of money that was unaccounted for, going back almost two months. I went through his things and found a small supply of pills in his shaving kit. When I took them to the cops, they confirmed that it was Oxycodone.”
“That must have been so rough. He hadn’t been acting strangely at home?”
“Looking back, yeah I see it. At the time, I thought he was just stressed at work.” She should have known better, though. James had always dealt with stress well, compartmentalizing it away.
“Do you know how he got started on that path?”
She’d spent a lot of time thinking about that one. “He’d been in a car accident earlier that year and I think he must’ve gotten addicted to his prescription pain meds. When the doctor refused to refill it, he switched to street drugs.”
What was she doing? Spilling her messy life story to this complete stranger? Especially since she’d let him in so she could get information from him, not the other way around.
There was something about this guy, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on.
She felt comfortable talking to him, and that level of trust didn’t come easily for her.
She forced a small laugh that contained no joy. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to dump all that on you.”
“I don’t mind.” His astonishingly purple eyes declared his words to be true. “You probably needed to talk to someone about it.”
Yes, well, enough was enough. “You found James?”
His demeanor dimmed. “Yes.”
Just yes? After all she’d shared already? “And he told you to find me?”
His hair brushed his ears as he shook his head. “He was gone by the time I got to him. But he’d left a note for me at the shelter.”
A note. “May I see it?”
He pulled a dirty envelope from an outside pocket on the bag and passed it to her.
The front said Zeke. The scrawl lacked James’ usual meticulous precision, but she’d know that writing anywhere.
Tears burned. She clenched her teeth. She’d thought she was done crying over this man.
Blinking to clear her vision, she pulled out a piece of wrinkled notebook paper. South Bay Gym. Sixty-seven. Bethany will know.
What was she supposed to know?
She read it again. Was there some kind of hidden message in this?
She looked up to find Zeke’s compassionate gaze locked on her. “I have no idea what this means.”
“Maybe this will help.” He reached down and unzipped the bag at his feet.
He set a black metal box on the table in front of her.
As her eyes focused on the box, her throat constricted. She knew this box. James’ safe. She hadn’t seen it in years, had actually forgotten it existed, but she had seen it before. James used to keep it on the top shelf of his side of the closet.
“Where did you get that?” Her voice came out a hoarse whisper.
“Locker sixty-seven at South Bay Gym.”
Her gaze flicked back to the note. So that’s what it all meant.
The combination lock. That’s where she came in.
Her hand shook as she reached for the box.
Zeke pushed it closer. “Would you like me to leave?”
“No.” She didn’t know why, but she wanted him to stay. There was something comforting about his presence.
Or maybe she was so lonely she’d take whatever company she could get, even if it was a man she didn’t even know.
Now what was the combination? If James had told her, she sure didn’t remember. Honestly, she couldn’t even remember what James had kept in this box to begin with. Or why it was important enough that he must’ve returned to the house sometime when she wasn’t around to retrieve it.
Well, if James thought she’d know, then the number must have significance.
She tried his birthday. Nope. The last four of his social security number. Not that.
Their anniversary. Still no. Her birthday, the kids’ birthdays. No, no, and no. She even tried Becca’s due date, since James hadn’t been around to know Becca was actually born three weeks early.
She sat back. “I don’t know what else he would’ve used.”
It was said more to herself than Zeke, but he responded anyway. “Maybe it’s not a date. Maybe it’s a favorite number. Or an address or phone number.”
She tried their old house number, then the last four of their phone numbers. The box remained locked.
There must be something she was missing.
“The best day of my life was the day I met my angel.” James’ voice floated through her head.
How many times had she heard him say that? Too many to count.
Well, it was worth a try. Given that they’d met at a leap year party, the date was firml
y ingrained. She spun the numbers to zero-two-two-nine.
The lock released.
She looked up at Zeke before raising the lid.
A black USB rested inside. It wasn’t labeled, yet it must be important for James to lock it up.
Something white caught her eye. Pushed toward the back of the safe was a folded piece of paper.
She pulled it out and smoothed it across the table in front of her.
My Angel.
The familiar endearment, written in the neat print she so easily remembered, brought tears to her eyes even as she fought the urge to throw the paper to the floor and stomp on it.
The best days of my life were the days spent with you. Forgive me.
Signed simply with a J.
A tear broke from her lashes, raced down her cheek, and splashed on the paper.
Forgive him? Forgive him? Who was he kidding, anyway?
Her nails scraped across the paper as her fingers curled, crumpling the paper in her grasp.
A sob bubbled up her throat.
How could she mourn him? She hated him. Hated the way he’d traded his family and their life for drugs and a jail cell. Hated the way his addiction had cost her everything but their kids and the meager belongings filling the small apartment. Hated the way his selfishness had reduced her to working nights and living off government assistance.
If he weren’t already dead, she might want to kill him herself.
The truth brought a flood of new tears.
How could she think such a thing?
Warmth covered the hand holding the offending note.
Zeke. She’d forgotten he was sitting across from her.
She should pull away. Yet there was something comforting about his touch.
“Ah, Sovereign Lord.”
The words, spoken softly, carried a confidence and authority that brought her head up.
Zeke had his eyes fixed upward. She followed the gaze, seeing nothing but the cracked plaster and brass light fixture above their heads.
“Father, please comfort Bethany with Your presence. Fill her with Your love and give her strength.”
He was praying? For her?
How long had it been since someone had done that?
The tears ebbed. Whether from shock or because of his prayer, she wasn’t sure.
Seconds passed. He said nothing further, but kept his face turned up, as though something interesting were painted across the ceiling.
She stared at his face. She couldn’t help it. There was something about this guy, something magnetic.
It wasn’t just that he was cute.
Nor was it because she was at all all-time low.
Finally, he dropped his gaze to meet hers. His soft smile carried to his eyes, which shone like purple laser pointers in the dim kitchen lighting.
“Bethany.”
How could her name sound like a caress coming from the lips of this stranger? She must be tired.
“The Father loves you very much. Never forget that His Spirit lives in you and is your Comforter, Helper, and constant Friend.”
The words washed over her like an embrace.
Her grief faded.
Zeke was right. God was with her. He always had been. Even when she’d walked away after leaving home. Even when she’d married James. Even when she’d lived in active rebellion, God had never left her.
His smile dimmed and his eyes shot back to the ceiling. “Father?”
What the…?
She looked up. What she expected to see, she didn’t know. A phone cord coming from heaven, maybe. But there was nothing but the same sad plaster that had always been there.
When she returned her attention to Zeke, she found him staring at her, smile replaced with an intensity that begged her to look away.
“Hard times are coming.”
The words, delivered gently, sent a shaft of ice through her stomach. Hard times? Compared to what? The Easy Street dream she’d been living the last few years?
“Fix your eyes on God. He will see you through it.”
“S-see…” A tremor shook her voice. She drew in a long breath and worked on steadying her words. “See me through what?”
Zeke shook his head. “The Lord didn’t say.”
“Say?” None of this made any sense. “Do-do you actually… hear… God?”
Zeke laughed, the sound rich and deep, filling the room. “Don’t sound so surprised. Of course I hear God speak.”
Okay. This guy was either super spiritual or seriously loony.
Or up to something.
Sure, he claimed God had given him her address, but how hard could it be to find it? The good old internet allowed people to look up just about anything these days.
Just because he looked like an artist’s dream didn’t mean he was trustworthy. In fact, that was reason enough for her to be suspicious, right?
Then again, that cop had vouched for him. Had even gone so far as to say that she could trust Zeke with her life.
She studied him. Sincerity clung like cologne. Not that he was wearing any that she could smell.
His eyes looked kind. Then again, those purple eyes really threw her off.
Pain pulsed in her head.
It’d been a long day. She couldn’t process anything else right now.
“Just talk to God. Seek Him. And He will make things clear.”
It was as if he knew her thoughts. She gave a small shake of her head, sending short blonde spirals sweeping into her vision. “It’s hard to hear Him.”
Seemed like it’d been even harder lately. Why, she wasn’t sure.
“It can be.” Zeke inclined his head to the left. “Have you asked yourself what might be blocking His voice?”
No. But she would.
Part of her was pretty sure she already knew the answer. “I think I’ve let life get in the way. You know, just the busy-ness of being a single mom and working and going to school.”
“That might do it.” Zeke smiled. “Just remember that God calls you to do all those things and to do them with excellence, but never at the expense of your walk with Him.”
She should be offended, but strangely wasn’t. The way he’d said it was so free of judgment and so full of concern that she couldn’t muster up an ounce of indignation. “It’s so hard. If only James hadn’t left…”
But if James hadn’t left, would she have ever turned back to God? She’d walked away from God when she met James and it had taken his addiction and, well, betrayal, for her to realize she’d allowed James to take God’s place.
“You’re tired.” Zeke’s chair scraped across the vinyl. “I’ll be praying for you. If you need anything, you can find me at the Loving Hands Mission.”
He was leaving?
Of course he was. He didn’t live here. Barely even knew her.
Why did she suddenly want to beg him to stay?
Her gaze dropped to the USB drive still resting in the lock box. She picked it up. “What about this? Don’t you want to know what’s on it?”
He stuffed his hands into the pockets on his cargo shorts. “Only if you want me to. James left it for you so I figured it might be personal.”
Unlikely. James had written them off a long time ago. “Well, he told you where to find it, so I think he meant for you to see it, too.”
He eased back down into the chair.
Fingering the drive, she met his eyes. “I don’t suppose you brought a computer?”
“I don’t have one.”
Really? She stared at him. Still no trace of deception.
Maybe he was as destitute as she was. “Well, that makes two of us. I usually use one of the computers at the school for anything I need to do.”
For some reason, she was hesitant to view this there, though. Maybe because she didn’t trust her emotions.
Or maybe because she didn’t trust whatever James had put on there.
“We could use the computer at the Mission. I’m sure Mark wouldn’t m
ind.”
That wasn’t a bad idea. It meant a trip downtown, but she could do that after classes tomorrow. “That would be great. I could be there around one o’clock.”
“I’ll be there. You know where it is?”
“Yes.” More or less. It wasn’t a part of town she frequented, but she knew the cross-streets.
“See you then.”
She followed him to the door, latching it behind him.
What a day. Leaning against the wall, she turned the USB over in her fingers. What could James have left on it?
And did it have anything to do with his death?
₪ ₪ ₪
“Have you found the evidence?”
Tobias crossed his arms as Isaac’s dark eyes bored through him. If Isaac thought it was so easy, maybe he oughta get off his big back end and find it himself. “Still looking. James didn’t seem to have many friends. Not sure who he woulda given it to.”
“I don’t need to remind you that those files could ruin us.” Isaac leaned forward slightly. “Both of us.”
Isaac really thought he could intimidate him? “Like I said, I’m workin’ on it.”
At least if someone accessed the files, the little safeguard they’d built in would alert them. Hopefully in time to act before the authorities found out.
“Seems that I remember James being married.”
Tobias narrowed his eyes on Isaac. Why was he just now telling him about such a vital piece of information?
“Find his wife. Maybe she can be… persuaded to talk.”
Oh, he’d make her talk all right. No matter what it took, she would tell him all he wanted to know.
And then she’d join her husband in the grave.
Four
Zeke stepped through the exterior door of Bethany’s apartment building and into the dank night air. The sun had set not long ago and pink streaked the sky above him.
In spite of the glorious display, his heart hurt.
How could James have left his family?
He knew it happened all the time in this world, but somehow seeing Bethany – feeling her grief, hearing her pain – made it more poignant.
Oh, Father. Cover her. Comfort her.
What was it about Bethany? He felt himself strangely drawn to her.
There was a quiet strength about her, a strength he suspected that she herself didn’t even realize was there. Forged in the fire of hard times, no doubt.
Broken is the Grave Page 4
