One Chance: A Thrilling Christian Fiction Mystery Romance (17 page)

And on the way out, the phone rang.

"I swear, I'm going to disconnect this thing," she mumbled to herself. The caller ID showed the call came from the Franklin Clinic.

She picked up the receiver. "Jacob?" she guessed.

"Hey, Deputy Beautiful," Jacob greeted her. "Got some good news for you."

"Mmm. Good news, brought to me by a handsome man. What a way to start my day."

He laughed. "Flatterer. Pete's being released from Grace Memorial this morning."

"Oh, yeah?" That was good news.

"Yup. Got the call half an hour ago. Woke me out of a sound sleep, too."

"Yeah, I know the feeling. So, they're shipping him back to your clinic?"

"No, letting him go from the hospital over there. He's going to be in a lot of pain for a long time, and probably need some occupational therapy to get full use of his legs back, but he's good to go outpatient now, according to the doctors over there. It's been four days now, after all."

Penelope counted on her fingers. He was right. Today marked the fourth day since the attack on Pete. "So how's he getting home, then?"

"From what I understand," Jacob told her, "his sister is going to pick him up. I'm guessing you can talk to him at her house later today. And I'm going to stop by there later too. Not that I don't trust the doctors over at Grace Memorial, but I'd kind of like to examine him myself, just to be sure."

Penelope chuckled. "That's my man."

"Yes. I am." She could hear the smile in his voice. "Want to show me how much you love me tonight? Maybe, with dinner?"

"That sounds great. You pick the place. I'll pick you up around six, okay? You over at the clinic now?"

"Headed there. Why? Am I going to see you?"

"I need to speak to Dan Hughes again. Sheriff wants to know if he remembers anything else. So I guess I'll see you there."

"I'll be waiting," he said. "Love you."

"Love you back." She hung up and left for work, letting Doug and Trevor sleep in. They both needed it.

*

Penelope radioed dispatch and let them know she wouldn't be coming straight into the office. She turned her car toward the clinic. She figured she could pick up her cruiser later on if she needed it. This was just an interview with a witness. A re-interview.

She saw Jacob's car already at the clinic when she arrived. He was waiting for her at the door.

"Good morning," he leaned in to her as they embraced. "Dan Hughes is awake and he's asking for you already. How about that?"

"Is he okay to talk to me?"

He nodded, stepping back from her and leading her by the hand. "He's stronger today than yesterday. But still, don't overtax him."

Dan started to speak the moment she entered the room, but Penelope handed him her notebook instead and told him the doctor didn't want him to exert himself.

"You've been through a lot recently, Dan," Penelope said. "You should rest now to get your strength back. I've got some more questions, but you rest and just write down anything you need to say, all right?"

Dan still had those bandages still in place, and if anything his bruises looked worse. But he shook his head. "I need to speak to you," he said in a raspy voice. "I promise not to talk much. But can't write this down."

Now he had Penelope's interest and curiosity. "Okay, but only for a minute or two," she said. "Then you have to start writing."

Dan nodded and smiled as best he could, reaching for Penelope's hand and taking hold of it.

"I understand that it comforts you, Dan," Penelope said, "but I have a feeling there's another reason you insist on holding my hand when I'm around. Am I right?"

"That's what I wanted to tell you Deputy," Dan said, swallowing. "First, you need to understand. I'm not a freak. Or anything." He took his time talking. It was obvious to Penelope how much pain the man was in. One more good reason for Michael Findley to spend the rest of his days behind bars. "Each of us has...a special gift. From God. Me, you, everyone. I can...feel the truth about a person. By touching them."

Penelope thought maybe that Dan had suffered a concussion, and it must have shown on her face.

"Need you...to believe me, Deputy." Dan said, his expression pleading.

"You can tell these things about everyone you touch?" Penelope asked.

"No," Dan admitted. "Only certain people. Only some of the time. But what I find out...from my gift. It's never wrong."

"So that's why you grab onto my hand?"

"That's part of it," Dan said, trying to sit up more. "But with you there's...something else. Your faith. I can feel your faith. It gives me strength...comfort. And hope."

"I'm not sure I understand what you mean," Penelope said.

"Your faith in God is strong," Dan said, more clearly than he'd said anything else. "It...powers you. No. I mean, motivates you. To do what's right. Because of that, you will conquer the evil...of the man who has been hurting the folks of this town. Including me."

Penelope was dumbfounded. "I appreciate it. What you're saying, I mean. I appreciate that. But we both know it's up to God to conquer evil. We're just His instruments."

Dan nodded, and smiled with puffy lips. "Exactly, Deputy. You are His instrument. His laborer here. On Earth. But, there's...one more thing. When I touch your hand. I can tell you still carry the weight with you. Of that day. I was here, when your parents died. I was here...in Franklin. I know how horrible that was. For you. You can't keep that pain. Not...yours. Give it back."

The conversation she'd had with Jacob just last night, and all the memories of that bad night that had resurfaced this weekend, all came back at her in a rush. And to her surprise, tears began to run down her cheeks again. Emotion stirred from events both in the past and the present stirred in her uneasily. "I don't know how," she said.

"Just entrust it. To the one who can comfort you, Penelope," Dan said. "That's all you need...to do."

Penelope didn't know what to make of Dan's words, or his assertion of a special gift from God. But she knew that what Dan said was true. Like Jacob had told her last night, she'd carried this long enough. It was time to let it go. Somehow. When everything else was settled. Wiping her face with her free hand, Penelope smiled and said, "Okay, enough talking for now. You need to rest your voice for a while."

Dan blinked at her. "You had. Questions."

"I did, but they'll wait. The Sheriff just wanted me to ask you if you remembered anything else about Friday night. I don't suppose you saw Pete Lamb that night?"

Dan reached for the pen and the notepad.

CHAPTER 31

This didn't make any sense.

Penelope had the written notes from Dan Hughes in her front shirt pocket. She had read them through four times. She'd shown them to Jacob, and he was just as baffled as she was. And now, she was riding around Franklin, driving to clear her head.

Franklin was actually a very old town, as towns in Florida went. Some of the buildings dated back to the 1920s. The town still had its original street layout, even though it had changed a bit over the years and of course become more modern. Florida hadn't become a state until 1845, the last state East of the Mississippi River. But there had been people living here before then, and in the cemetery on the outskirts of town were any number of headstones with faded dates from the 1700s. She'd always loved to go exploring in that cemetery when she was a kid. That was before her parents had died and been buried there. She hadn't been back since.

Now, she found herself driving there.

Penelope parked her car just inside the open gate of Meadowveil Cemetery and stepped out under the shade of a huge Persimmon tree. It was a beautiful place, full of flowers and well maintained shrubbery. She still remembered where the graves were. Side by side, with stones that had been picked out by her mother's parents. She found the graves and knelt between them, facing the headstones.

She didn't know what to say. She'd thought of her parents almost every day since their deaths, had wished them alive again and prayed that God might bring them back more times than she could count. Then, in her adult years, they had been a constant reminder in the back of her head to do what was right, because life was too short.

But now that she was here, with the intention of speaking to them again, of talking it out and laying down her burden, she had no idea how to even start.

"Mom, Dad," she finally began, "I'm sorry I haven't come back before now. It just hurt me so much to be reminded of your deaths. I guess I was trying to run away from the pain." She was surprised to hear herself laugh. "Not that it worked. It still hurts. Every day. But I don't want it to hurt anymore. I don't want to be sad about this for the rest of my life. I don't want to forget you. Ever. But I need to let go of this. You understand, I'm sure. And God, I know that You understand and will help me and take this away."

The memory flashed through her mind again. The house on fire. Her parents running with her to the door.

She jolted, feeling something inside her crack a little. The pain flooded up and she took in a deep breath and kept going. "I'm going to be married soon, Mom, Dad. I know, it's hard for me to believe too. You'd like him. He's a wonderful man. My rock. My strength. I don't know what I'd do without him."

The fire was too hot, too big, it was everywhere, and they couldn't get out.

"Uh, uh, I know what happened that night, guys. I remember everything. And it hurts, still. Maybe it shouldn't, but it does."

Her mom, lifting her up and out of the kitchen window. "Crawl, baby, crawl away. Fast as you can, now. Go!"

The crack widened, and something, some force or pressure, bled out from it, seeped out and lifted away.

And the fire whooshed up behind her as she got out. And her parents didn't make it. And she stood there on that front lawn calling for them until the fire trucks arrived and someone took her in their arms and carried her away.

"I just wish you hadn't died. I love you Mom. I love you Dad."

She wept, then, hot tears that burned as they came out but then cooled as they evaporated off her face. The pain lifted from her, an aching sorrow so ingrained in her that she hadn't even realized how deeply it ran, until now. And when the tears stopped, the pain was with her no longer.

She touched each gravestone in turn, tracing the names of her parents. "Thank you, God. For this moment. For the memory of love that I can take away with me in place of the guilt I had been carrying. I lay that down now God, and ask for the strength to walk away from it and let it go."

Penelope Chance stood up, feeling lighter than she had somehow, feeling stronger and more...alive.

When she left the graveyard and drove to the station, she remembered the good times she had shared with her parents, each and every one of them a newly cherished memory. A crystal clear memory not clouded or muddied by guilt.

CHAPTER 32

Penelope was back at the Sheriff's Office before ten that morning. The Sheriff was in the office, talking something over with Jim Saunders, back for another shift himself after taking the night off. Sheriff Jackson saw Penelope come in and walked over to her just as Penelope sat down at her desk.

"You were over speaking to our witness, Dan Hughes, I'm guessing?" he asked Penelope.

"Yes, sir. I spoke with him. I had one errand to run on the way back or I'd have been here a bit earlier. Sorry. I can promise you it was necessary, though."

The Sheriff waved a hand. "I'm not concerned about it. With all the extra time you've been putting in around here, I wouldn't have been surprised if you asked for a personal day. I can spare you a little time for an errand. But tell me what Hughes had to say."

"I've got his notes right here, sir," Penelope said to him. "And I can tell you up front, I don't know what to make of it."

Penelope handed him the notepad she had let Dan Hughes use to write out his answer to Penelope's simple question, did you see Pete Lamb that night? At least, Penelope had thought it was a simple question. It turned out to be anything but.

The Sheriff read through the three pages of notepaper. "This is Hughes' writing, I take it?"

"Yes. Jacob didn't want him to overtax himself, so he thought it would be better to write out his answers."

"Well, better for us too," the Sheriff mused. "Now it's in the witness's own writing. But I'm with you, Penelope. Now that we know what he saw, what does it mean?"

"It means more headache for us. For me, in particular. Pete got released from Grace Memorial Hospital this morning. I'm going to go over to his house a little later and talk to him. Maybe he has some explanation for this."

"He got released? Seriously? I thought his injuries were pretty bad," the Sheriff said as he handed the notepad back to Penelope.

"They were. Bad enough for a three day stay in Grace Memorial, anyway. They say he's good enough now for outpatient, so they must have fixed him up. I'll see when I get out there. What happened with our boy Findley?"

John sat down and stretched his legs out in front of him. "Nothing much. Saunders got the paperwork done up for an arraignment, and Judge Whitton put him in jail without bail. Findley actually laughed when Whitton signed the order of remand." He shook his head. "That man troubles me. It's not often we deal with someone that you can classify as actually evil. But he comes as close as I've ever seen."

"That he does. Makes you wonder what he's capable of."

"Well, I'd say it's a safe bet he's capable of killing his girlfriend, wouldn't you?" John raised an eyebrow as he asked the question.

Before Penelope could answer, the phone rang.

Saunders was busy, and when Penelope looked at the Sheriff, he just waved a hand. "Go ahead, answer it. We can talk more after."

Penelope picked it up on the fourth ring. "Franklin Sheriff's Office. This is Deputy Chance."

"Penelope...help me," a woman's voice whispered.

Penelope stood up, pushing the chair out of the way as she did. "Who is this?" she asked.