Ransomed Dreams (36 page)

Or dead.

She prayed Steven was on his way Surely by now he’d figured out all the details Tom had bragged on almost the entire trip.

How could she have ever thought Tom was innocent? Why hadn’t she listened to Justin and stayed far away from her vice principal like he’d warned? She should have told Steven everything the private investigator had said the night she got back to Alexandria.

But Steven’s kiss had silenced every logical thought then. And the custody hearing Wednesday didn’t allow for much talk other than James’s safety.

Gracie shook her head. Now was not the time to recount her stupidity. She’d have plenty of time for that later.

If she survived.

But she couldn’t stay hidden and let two more innocent people die. She pounded on the storage room door. “Tom! I’m in here. Let them go.”

On shaky feet she stood by the door and moved the boxes out of the way Then she waited, praying.

“Open that door. Now.”

Keys jangled. Someone sniffled. The sweet older woman?

When the door flung open, Gracie stepped through it and blinked against the store’s light. Outside, the sun was setting. Darkness would move the balance of favor into Tom’s court.

“I’m so sorry, hon,” the gray-haired woman said. “Our local boys will get you out.”

“Get out. Both of you.” Tom shoved the woman’s husband with a gun between the shoulder blades. “Walk slowly.”

As they stepped out the front door, Tom wrapped his arm around Gracie’s neck and yanked her toward the back exit. “What a hero you are, giving up your freedom to purchase another few years for those two old fogies. Lot of good that did you.”

He walked backward, one slow step at a time. “You’re still going to die tonight. And I’m going to make my flight.” Tom kept his spine pressed against the wall as they neared the back door.

Flashing blue lights swirled outside the glass front of the store. Three cop cars. A few rifles pointed at Tom’s head. But they wouldn’t shoot. Wouldn’t risk hitting her.

And so Tom would drag her back to the car, and they’d die in some high-speed car chase.

Gracie’s heart stuck in her throat. She’d die like her family had died, after all.

At the hands of the same man.

Tom opened the back door and the cool night air made her shiver.

No police in the back parking lot. No flashing lights. No knights in shining armor, either.

God, where are You
?

Like she’d figured, Tom had moved his car to the backside of the little mart. The gray building would keep them sheltered until they were in the silver Impala and on their way.

Tom shoved her into the front seat, keeping his eyes fixed forward. She ducked down into the seat when he entered and reached for the ignition.

A soft click changed him to stone.

Her mind fought to process what was happening.

“Don’t move, Perkins,” Steven commanded from the backseat. “Gracie, take the keys and his gun and slide out your side. Clint and the other officers are right around the corner.”

She nodded in the dark but sat frozen to the seat.

“Gracie. I need you to move. Now.”

With shaking hands she closed her fingers around the silver metal of Tom’s disgusting gun.

Tom kept a tight hold.

“Steven?” She glanced back and tried to keep her shaking hands around the gun.

Steven kept his eyes fixed straight ahead and pushed the gun barrel into Tom’s neck.

Tom released his gun.

She clamped one hand around it. With her other hand she took the keys from the steering column. Sliding out of the car, she hoped Steven would look up, but he stared at the back of Tom’s head, unmoving.

Numb, she walked to the edge of the building and then glanced back one more time. Steven still hadn’t moved.

“I’m coming around the side.” She held her hands high in the air and walked forward. “Don’t shoot.”

A few of the officers chuckled.

She couldn’t imagine laughing at a time like this, but she’d heard that cops either laughed at tense situations or went crazy.

Clint stepped into her path. “Gracie, thank God you’re okay.”

She collapsed into his arms and cried the storehouse of tears she’d pushed aside for the last five hours. Tears for the family she’d lost. Tears for the people she loved and thought she’d never see again. Beth. Mom and Dad. Leah. James. Steven.

An eerie silence met her when she sniffled back the last of the tears. She looked up into Clint’s face. Judging from the hard lines of his set jaw, something was wrong. Very wrong.

“Gracie. I need you to wait here with the sheriff.” Clint pointed toward the swirling blue lights. “I’ll be back in a sec.”

Clint unsnapped his gun belt and disappeared around the side of the building.

Had Tom gotten away?

“Holster your gun, Steven. Let it go. We got him.” Clint’s voice boomed from behind the mart.

Silence.

Handcuffs clicked and all the cops let out a collective breath.

Clint marched Tom toward the nearest patrol car. The man’s once impressive suit now looked like it’d been trampled.

Tom stopped near her and his harsh glare froze her heart. “It’s not over.”

Clint shoved Tom forward and into the patrol car, slamming the door.

Steven followed, head down, shoulders drooping. He ran his hands through his thick brown hair and stopped in front of the gas station.

She ran to him and wrapped her arms around his waist, shaking. “Steven, I can’t believe you got him. He’s going to jail where he can’t escape, right?”

Steven didn’t look up. Didn’t move.

So she pulled back and cupped his face in her hands, making him turn his eyes to meet hers.

“I wanted to kill him, Gracie. In cold blood. I almost did.”

Rubbing his arms, she prayed for the right words. “But you didn’t, Steven. And you saved me.” She tried to smile.

He rested his hands on her shoulders. “You’re okay?” He touched the bruise on her left cheek.

She flinched.

“We need to get you checked out at the hospital before we head home.” Steven put an arm around her shoulders and walked toward one of the police cars.

“Where’s the nearest hospital?”

A short, stocky officer motioned them over to his cruiser. “I’ll give you an escort there.” He looked Gracie over. “We’ll make sure they take the very best care of you too, ma’am.”

“The owners? Are they okay?” Gracie scanned the parking lot.

“Deputy took them to be checked out too. They’ll be okay, no doubt. But I reckon they’ll be home before we make it to the ER.”

“We’ll follow you over.” Steven’s voice was hollow, lifeless.

No one spoke the entire drive. And by the time they arrived at the little community hospital, Gracie had decided two things.

One, she had a piece of her mind to let loose on God the minute she had some time alone.

And two, she was going home to Atlanta again. Maybe for good.

Far away from haunted looks.

Far away from the smell of blood.

And as far away as she could run from anything related to guns.

T
hanksgiving yesterday had come and gone in a total blur. Steven had wrapped up the Kensington case and handed it over for prosecution. He’d have to testify but that wouldn’t be for a while. As for today he was on vacation.

With nothing to do but fix chocolate chip pancakes for his son and wonder why Gracie wouldn’t take his calls.

Still, something was thawing inside.

Whisking the pancake batter, he checked the clock. James would be up soon.

Over Thanksgiving dinner, his dad’s prayers had included Steven, James, and Gracie. Angela too. Then his sister, Hanna, had hugged him and told him she’d missed him.

Steven had started to realize how much he missed himself too. The young man who had talked—and listened—to God. The man who had held his crying newborn boy and realized all life ultimately rested in God’s all-sufficient hands.

Not in Steven’s.

When had he forgotten? And when had he become a man who’d actually consider killing in cold blood?

“That’s not who you are, Steven.”
Clint had spoken those words over and over the last few weeks. He’d also said that feelings weren’t truth. Maybe it was starting to sink in.

Steven poured batter onto the hot griddle and then pushed Play on his sister’s portable CD player. She’d insisted he borrow her favorite CD,
Casting Crowns
. He understood why as the third song hit him with utter clarity The words lined up with all Clint and Gracie had been trying to tell him. The passionate and smooth
lyrics spoke of all the voices crying out, saying he’d never win.

Steven could relate. Even felt like the warriors quaking in their armor wishing for the strength to stand. But the words that registered the loudest brought to mind a mountain peak and watching an eagle fly right into the storm clouds and soar.

“Listen to the truth, Steven.”
God’s voice came to him with the distinct Texas drawl of his best friend. Listen. To the voice of truth.

Then, as if to pen an exclamation point on the story being rewritten inside of him, the next song was titled, “Who Am I.” The answer was straight from his dad’s Old Testament teaching on Jeremiah and Isaiah. “I have loved you with an everlasting love. I have called you by name; you are Mine.”

No matter how long it took Steven to listen.

Little-boy steps hit the stairs running and interrupted his thoughts. Steven poured milk and set out the maple syrup.

“Hey, Dad!” James stopped at the table with wide eyes. “Wow, pancakes. Just like Grandpa fixes.”

Steven smiled. It felt good to be compared to his dad again. They sat at the table and Steven held out his hand. “Let’s pray.”

James blinked a few times before bowing his head.

“Lord, You are good and You are in control. Guide our hands and words today. Amen.”

His son inhaled the first plate of gooey chocolate pancakes and asked for more.

Steven flipped two more onto James’s plate and sat down. “Chew, James.” He ruffled his little boy’s still sleep-rumpled hair. “What say we go cut down a Christmas tree today?”

“Woo-hoo!” James shoved a sticky fist in the air.

“And take it over to your mom’s condo.”

“But she left weeks ago.” James sucked in his bottom lip. “And never called.”

“She’s at the condo packing it up to sell.” Steven knelt by his son’s chair. “I think we should take her a tree and let her know we’d like her to stay in our lives. She’s your mom, after all.”

James hugged his neck hard. “I love you, Daddy.” Big blue eyes searched his. “Does this mean it’s okay if I like her? I mean, if she stops drinking, then she can be my mommy?”

“I’m praying she’ll get the help she needs, son.” He picked up James. “And I think she will. She loves you. And she’s talking to some good counselors who help people deal with tough things.”

Wiggling out of his arms. James ran to the door and stopped. “I’ll get dressed fast. Then we can take the ornaments I made when I was little. Mom will like those, right?”

“Yes.”

Steven cleaned the kitchen and thought back over all the Christmases James had spent without a mom to bake cookies with or sing him carols at bedtime. Steven had tried, but there were things that moms did best. That huggy, mushy, soft stuff, wrapped in warm vanilla.

He wasn’t ready to give Angela overnights or school vacation weeks yet; she still had a lot of treatment ahead. But the time had come to let the past go, to move ahead. To try for peace in a challenging situation.

Angela had left him for another man, and he’d spent the better part of their marriage and the five years since trying to prove he was good enough. A man. But today he’d experienced the words he’d heard growing up at his dad’s knee.

God was the only One to whom he stood or fell. And He’d already paid for the fall so His children could stand. With Him. No matter what.

“Daddy! Let’s go get a tree!”

Bundled in warm jackets and wool hats, they left to find what Steven hoped would be the perfect bridge. A tree had served that purpose two thousand years ago.

Maybe it would again today.

“Hi, Mom! We brought you an early Christmas present.” James jumped around, totally missing his mother’s open-mouthed stare
as they stood outside her expensive ground-floor condo.

Steven held his breath and kept the big, prickly tree standing upright.

“We want you to keep your house here so I can visit.” James looked back at him. “Daddy says we’ll work it out as we go.”

Angela knelt down and touched James’s coat sleeve.

“Please, will you stay?” James pointed to the tree Steven held. “I even brought my ornaments to decorate it.”

Angela smoothed her expensive black running suit and looked over their son’s head, meeting Steven’s eyes. Questions filled the silence between them.

“You’re his mom, Angela. We both want you to be part of his life.” He didn’t try to figure out the undefined parameters of this new journey. That could wait.

Today was for forging a new path.

She stood and opened the door wide. “Come on in. I think I have the perfect place for that beautiful tree.”

James ran next to the large stack of packing boxes and tore off his winter bundling. Gloves and scarves flew across the floor. At least there were no pictures or fragile things sitting out to break.

Angela touched his arm. “Thank you. This … this means more than you know.”

He nodded with a half smile. “So where would you like your tree?”

She pointed to an empty space beside the sliding glass doors and held the tree while he took off his coat. James helped him secure the tree in its base.

“Where’s Gracie?” Angela asked.

He searched for the right words. They were especially important in front of his son. “She’s had a rough couple of months, and she’s back in Atlanta taking it easy for a little while.”

Better to avoid the details of her kidnapping and that Steven didn’t know when or if she’d ever come back to Alexandria. He wanted to hold her in his arms again. Longed for it so much it hurt.

But this time, he’d pray.