by Nate Allen
“Leave the rest up to Him.”
I nod my head as I open my door and plant a foot on the pavement. The building seems even smaller, now that I’m standing outside of it. But, my heart is still racing. And no matter how small it seems, it has now become a mountain in my mind that I don’t have the faith to remove. Instead, it only seems to be growing as the moments pass.
Even as Janet’s hand slips effortlessly back into place with mine, the small building continues to grow in my mind. The front door shrinks off into the distance, becoming a mirage; the surrounding trees almost look plastic. Even my free hand looks fake as I sway it across my face. For a moment I think about hitting myself again—
“Mr. Mills?” my eyes follow the call. The cop who came to our house is now getting out of the parked cop car. “I’ll bring you inside for questioning.” he’s much taller than me. I don’t know why, but it’s all I can focus on. It makes me feel even smaller. “Follow me.”
I listen to what he says, taking short steps behind his. I feel like a child: completely helpless, smaller than everyone else around me. Janet’s hand doesn’t even feel like my wife’s, but like my mother’s. It’s like I’m a little boy again, being brought into a situation my mind can’t fully comprehend. It was like when dad was first diagnosed. I only understood certain things that I was told. I didn’t understand the details or the technical terms. I understood that dad was sick. I understood that he was helpless. Like me, he became a child who had no control over the outcome.
It was a losing battle from the moment it began. Over those three years, a man who wanted to control everything, learned to let it all go. He put all of his strength, all of his hope, all of his love into his relationship with Jesus. And at the end of his life, he was just a little boy waiting for his Daddy to bring him home.
Many times I have wondered why he decided to give up. I have wondered why he stopped fighting, when there was still so much to live for here. I have wondered why he was okay leaving me behind. That question has hurt me in the deepest places. Why did he leave when I still needed him so badly?
I’ve never understood the answer to that question. But, as I walk toward this building, feeling like a child again, I finally do. This is the place I was always meant to come back to: the place of a child; the place of helplessness, where I give away all control and take my Daddy’s hand, trusting that He knows the way.
John Doe
The streak of red is gone from the horizon, but the revelation remains. Jesus is in everything. He is even in my mind, quieting the past and feeding my newness. The old memories are still playing like old film from somewhere inside, but my focus is on the newness. I’m thinking about how it will feel to bring M back home, and the hope that will come from it. It gives me hope.
Matthew may beat me to within an inch of my life as soon as I bring M to his door. Light may not return to his eyes at all. But, it’s the best I can give. He won’t wonder what happened to his little girl. He’ll get to say goodbye. It’s something none of the other parents have: closure.
And after that? Whatever happens, happens. I can’t really imagine how it will feel to be hated by everyone. I haven’t been a relevant character in a room since before mom died. I have merely existed. I can’t begin to imagine what it will be like to be important only because of the pain I’ve caused. And the horrible things I’ve done. There are fifteen families that I will have to face. They won’t see the story of how Jesus set me free. They’ll see the pain I’ve caused them. And my name will continue to match what they perceive me to be: I am anonymous. I am not a person to them, but a tragedy. I’m the one who took their life away. Their spark. Their happiness.
Whatever my purpose is within it all is something I can’t see. But, it’s the certainty of purpose that keeps me going. Even though I can’t see my purpose, I know it’s there, wrapped up in my consequences. It begins with bringing M home before midnight tonight. That’s the only clear direction I have—
I don’t even know how I’m going to get back to Payne. The gas light just came on. The needle is barely above E. And I don’t have any money. I didn’t even think about how low it was when leaving Minea. It seemed small compared to everything else. Except now, it’s the very thing keeping me from my purpose.
“Jesus.” I say, glancing over at the passenger seat automatically. “I haven’t known purpose until I started to know You. This purpose doesn’t come from anywhere else. It’s because of You. If I’m supposed to bring M back to Payne myself by the end of this day, I know You will make a way.”
I don’t need to say anything else. I know what faith is. It’s loyalty. I showed it for twenty six years with Teddy. And now, I will show it for the rest of my life with Jesus. Faith can bring freedom or it can bring chains. I know both. If my purpose is to return M before midnight tonight, it will happen.
Suddenly, the dim lights of this car climb a single sign on the side of the road: Gas station 10 miles.
Matthew Mills
The police station interior matches my low expectations. It is one large room, divided into several offices by cubicles. The officer hasn’t said another word since we entered the building. His steps in front of Janet and I are his only constant. He leads us past the empty cubicles and toward the back of the room. There is a wooden door. A gold colored number 1 is the only thing marking it.
“I’ll have to ask you to wait out here, Mrs. Mills.” he says, glancing back. “There’s coffee and magazines right over there,” he points to the right of us, where there is a makeshift waiting area in the corner.
“Okay,” she agrees, and then looks at me. “I’ll be right out here, Matty. I love you.” calm still covers her face. “Everything’s going to be okay.” she lets go of my hand, as the officer leads me toward the room.
I love you, too. I mouth the words so she can see. A small smile crawls onto her face as she walks toward the waiting area.
“Ready when you are, Mr. Mills.” the officer is already standing in the room. It’s not dimly lit, but closer to an office. Dull blue carpet is on the floor. Tube lights stripe across the ceiling in sections. A cheap wooden table sits in the center, with one foldable metal chair placed on each side. “Have a seat.” he says as he closes the door. I do.
“I am the officer who followed up on your daughter’s disappearance from school today.” he starts before ever sitting down. “I talked to Ms. Brands, Mrs. Fig, and a few of your daughter’s classmates at school. At 3:31 pm, I came to your house to try and get any more valuable information. Your wife was home, but she couldn’t say where you were. Meet me at this point. Where were you?”
“I was driving.” I answer quietly.
“Where?”
“Do you believe in demons?” why am I asking this question?
“Is that relevant?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.” he sighs. “No. I believe in fact. I believe that everything has an explanation. And I believe the explanation for this is very simple.”
I stare at him blankly. “Tell me what you think, officer.”
“I believe that you were frustrated. I believe that you knew Edna Brands was the one who called your daughter down to the office. You expected answers from her. And when you didn’t get them, you drowned her in her bathtub.”
“You asked where I was driving.” I disregard his accusation.
“Yes. Where were you driving?”
“To Minea.”
“Where is that?” he asks coldly.
“It’s a small town in Minnesota.” I pause. “Do you believe in demons?” I didn’t even ask it this time. It just came out of me.
“No.” I can see his face starting to tense. “I already answered that question. Why do you keep asking me that?”
“You said you talked to Ms. Brands?”
“Yes.”
“What did she say?”
“She talked about her dead husband.”
“Did she say anything else?” I�
�m asking the questions and he doesn’t even realize it.
“Not really.”
“Had you talked to Ms. Brands before today?”
“No.”
“She has never been that person. Before today, she was a sharp toned attendance woman. She didn’t like her job, but was too old to get something else. She was almost condescending in her reply when I would call into the school if Marcy was sick.” I pause. “Ask anybody about Ms. Brands, and they will tell you she wasn’t sick. She didn’t just happen to lose her mind today. It was taken from her.”
I expect skepticism to flood his face, but instead he just clears his throat. “Why were you driving to Minea?” he doesn’t disregard my theory. I can see the conviction in his eyes.
“Ms. Brands came to my door before I ever came to hers. That was a couple hours after Janet and I left the school. I think it was a little after two. She knocked on my door and said that a man took Marcy. Something was in her. You could feel it as soon as you looked in her eyes. They weren’t empty, but full. You could feel something looking back at you that wasn’t her. I knew that it had the answer. It knew where my little girl was, so I followed her back to her house. I knew I was supposed to stay away, but I didn’t. If you are a father, you understand.”
“How did you get those bruises on your face? Were they self inflicted?”
“Yeah. As soon as I found out Marcy was missing.” I pause. “I know what you think happened, but I
