Destiny's Wrath (Destiny Series - Book 3) (2 page)

Those were the last words Abigail ever spoke. She watched Jimmy run across the room. She saw the knife coming out of his pocket as if it were in slow motion. Abigail did not watch the boy plunge the knife into her abdomen and then her heart; instead, she looked across the room to where Noah stood with a look of horror on his face.

Noah stood frozen in place as he saw Abigail’s body slump to the floor. Jimmy immediately hung up the phone, grabbed her ankles, and moved her to the wall of the living room, half tucked behind a sofa. Without missing a beat, Jimmy asked Noah, “So, you can look at them numbers now? I think I’ve got the right formula; jus’ need you to double check the numbers for me.”

Noah had never seen someone die. He had never seen a dead body, and he never imagined he would ever see someone murdered right in front of him. Abigail had been the only caregiver he had ever really known. He loved her, and, in that instant, she was gone.

Noah stood watching the blood pool around her. He thought back to the day when he and Jessie had come to live with her.

Abigail Camden had been everyone’s favorite “Kool-Aid Mom.” Her children were long gone; her grandchildren were beginning families of their own. Abigail had been a homemaker her whole life. After her husband passed away, everyone just assumed she would go on cruises, vacation in exotic places, meet friends on the internet, whatever people did when their life emptied in front of them. She and her husband had been married for thirty-seven years when he had a massive heart attack at work and never came home.

When she realized she had done all she could do for her family, and was more of a holiday novelty than a pillar in their lives, she began to feel sorry for herself. This is pretty common for women of Abigail’s age, but rather than slumping into a depression that she would just have to climb out of – she did the unthinkable. She started all over again, this time by herself.

She lived alone in a five bedroom house, and the emptiness began to envelope her. One evening she watched a news program about a shortage of foster families. She made up her mind before the news segment was over that she would be a foster mom.

Abigail started with two siblings, Jessie and Noah. The day they came, Jessie was six, with cute pigtails, a little shy but as bright a child as Abigail had ever known. Noah was Jessie’s older, protective brother, who was eight. The two had been in and out of foster homes for over two years before they came to Abigail’s home. They shared the same mother, and, every now and again, their mother would get sober enough to get custody back, but her latest arrest included prison time, so the children were again wards of the state.

When the two came to Abigail’s house, they were a bit stoic, “seasoned” their case worker called them. They knew not to trust adults. They knew not to get too comfortable because this home would be like so many before – only temporary. Abigail didn’t have a degree in psychology; truth be told she had never visited a therapist her whole life. She worried that she had become a foster parent for the wrong reason – sheer loneliness.

Jessie and Noah’s case worker was Miss Bryant, and in spite of the reputation social workers have for being too overworked to check on their assignments, Miss Bryant didn’t ever think of any child as just a number. She knew each child, knew their favorite colors, their favorite activities, things they were scared of, and, somehow, she always knew exactly what to say to make them feel at ease. Miss Bryant was a person whose very nature inspired trust in those she looked after. Though Jessie and Noah had never fully trusted anyone up to this point in their lives, there was something about Miss Bryant. They believed her when she said things were going to be okay.

Miss Bryant arrived outside Abigail’s home at 3 p.m. Both children had their worldly belongings stuffed into two plastic grocery bags. Miss Bryant stopped on the porch, kneeled down to eye level of both of the children and said, “I know you’re scared. Do you two trust me?”

Jessie nodded immediately; Noah was slower to agree, but he, too, trusted Miss Bryant. “You know that I would never take you somewhere that wasn’t safe, right?” Again both children nodded their agreement. “Miss Abigail is a very nice lady; she wants you to live with her. Now, she hasn’t had children in her home in a really long time, so she is just as scared as you are. But I know you both will take good care of her, won’t you?” Jessie and Noah looked at each other quickly, then both silently agreed.

Miss Bryant stood back up, straightened her jacket, and rang the doorbell. Abigail opened the door and saw the two children standing in front of her holding their grocery bags stuffed with clothes. She could see Jessie had a blanket and a stuffed bear peeking out of the top of hers. Noah’s pants were too short, his shirt was clean but stained, and he wouldn’t look her in the eye. He stood close and slightly in front of his sister. He didn’t consciously think that Miss Abigail was a threat, but he had grown accustomed to being Jessie’s protector, so this was the position he always took.

Abigail was so excited to have children in her home again she could barely contain herself. Abigail held out her hand to Noah, “Good afternoon, Noah. My name is Abigail. You can call me Granny or Miss Abbey, whichever you prefer.” He nodded but said nothing. Abigail turned her attention to Jessie, “And you must be Jessie?” She held out her hand to Jessie, but Jessie looked to Noah instead of the outstretched hand. Noah gave a short nod and Jessie put her little hand inside of Abigail’s outstretched fingers.

Within ten minutes of their arrival, the children knew they had been transported to another time; they wouldn’t have been surprised to hear this was another universe. In the entire house there only looked to be one television, which was turned off.

Abigail showed the children to the play room, which was like nothing they had ever seen before. The walls and furniture were colorful; a white board lined one wall with markers of every color in the rainbow. Toys lined another wall in colorful bins: trains, blocks, animals, wooden sticks, and even Hot Wheels cars. A table with four chairs was in the center of the room with markers, colors, glue, scissors, and more paper than either had seen in their school classrooms. A large bookshelf held hundreds of books. Near the bookshelf was a loveseat with big pillows tossed all over it.

Abigail’s playroom rivaled that of even the most posh daycare facility. Jessie tugged on Abigail’s sweater and apprehensively asked, “Can I draw a picture?”

Abigail smiled at Jessie, “You don’t need to ask my permission. This is your room to play. The only thing I ask is that if you take something out, you must put it back when you are finished.” Abigail and Miss Bryant stepped out of the play room and back into the foyer. The ladies said their goodbyes, and from that moment on, Abigail wasn’t lonely anymore.

It took some getting used to. Abigail was very set in her ways: bed time and morning wake up were on a strict schedule, and a hot breakfast waited for the children every morning. School lunches were packed with all the food groups. After school snacks were waiting for them when they arrived home. Dinner was every night at 5 p.m. sharp. In all of Noah’s eight years, he had never had so much structure. These were things from make believe. No one actually lived this way, right?

Noah and Jessie did. They had been with Miss Abigail for nine years, longer than they had lived with their own mother.

Things weren’t all roses. Abigail refused to purchase televisions for bedrooms, video games or any other device she didn’t understand. When Noah started middle school, Abigail bought a computer that they were allowed to use for school work, but neither had ever played so much as one computer game on it.

Noah was now seventeen years old. He was preparing to graduate from high school and had already been accepted to the University of South Carolina in Columbia.

Jessie was fifteen and dreaded the day that Noah would leave. He had been her rock her whole life. Over the years, many children came to stay in their home with Miss Abbey, sometimes for a week, or a month, or sometimes for a few months. Each time the children went home either to their parents or to some other family member. Jessie and Noah never did. Eventually they called Abigail, “Granny.” Holidays and birthdays were a big occasion because Abigail’s children and grandchildren filled the house. Jessie and Noah were accepted as part of the family; although shy in the early years, they grew to love their new extended family.

In March of his senior year, Noah began to be headstrong. He had always been independent, but he was nearly an adult. His life was very much on course. He had worked hard and was excited and nervous at the same time about the fall when he would really be on his own in college. Abigail, having raised her own children and watched her grandchildren turn of age, knew this was a time that Noah had to work through. She tried not to mettle or to provide too much advice.

The two were in mid-conversation when they heard a knock at the door, his friend Jimmy. She finished her thought and told him, “Noah, you’re your own man. I’m proud of you. You are someone who will change the world one day. Keep making good decisions.”

As Noah looked at the pool of blood on the floor, he wished he could have saved her. He wished her final thoughts had not been filled with the terror he saw frozen in her eyes.

Noah stood dumbstruck - he couldn’t find his voice; he was unable to shout, or to scream or even to talk. His feet stayed planted as if his brain refused to process the event. Abigail was less than twenty feet from him; he heard a final soft gurgle come from behind the sofa.

Jimmy walked to within a few feet of Noah and waved his hand in front of Noah’s face several times. He asked his question again, “So, can you look at my numbers?” There wasn’t a hint of remorse in his voice; he gave his action no more thought than he would have stepping on a spider. With no response from his friend, he raised his voice, “Noah! You hear me?”

The sound of his name brought Jimmy’s features into focus. Noah nodded slowly. He wanted to run to Abigail and cradle her the way she had comforted him as a child. He wanted to call 911. He wanted to slit Jimmy’s throat wide open.

Noah was unable to do any of these things. His mind wouldn’t control his body; it was trying to process what had just happened.
Why did Jimmy just stab Abigail? What was he going to do to me? Where’s Jessie? Why did I ever tell him I’d help him?
No good answers arrived, and he felt a sharp pain to the back of his head. It didn’t register at first: had he just been stabbed, too? Noah put his hand to the back of his head - no large gash as he had expected.

Jimmy had put his knife away; the sharp pain was from a playful slap to the back of his head. Noah finally found his voice to whisper, “You just killed Granny.”

“
Yeah, sorry ‘bout that. She was goin’ to tell the sheriff. Don’t worry, I can make it look like an accident, so you won’t get in no trouble. I really need you to look at my numbers.” Although he said he was sorry, Jimmy didn’t sound the least bit remorseful.

Noah heard his own voice methodically answering Jimmy with, “Let me…Let me get my calculator.” Noah realized that Jimmy was seriously going to build a bomb. This wasn’t some stunt or high school prank - he really wanted to kill hundreds of people.

Noah told himself he would help him with his calculation, then, as soon as Jimmy was gone, he’d call the police. He would tell them everything he knew. Noah walked down the hallway toward his bedroom, Jimmy in lock-step with him. Noah found his calculator on the desk in his room as the front door chimed. The security system on the house, even when unarmed, made a chime sound whenever an external door opened. Someone had just walked through the front door.

Jimmy looked out into the hallway and saw no one. “What was that?”

Noah shrugged his shoulders as if he didn’t have a clue. “My sister probably just came home.”

Jimmy smiled, “Jessie is
hot
. Does she have a boyfriend?” Noah cringed. The thought of Jimmy being interested in Jessie turned his stomach. He wanted to call out to her, but what could he say? “
Call the police
.” “
Run to the neighbors
.” “
Get in Granny’s car and get out of here
.” Any of these messages would save her life and likely be certain death for Noah. Noah didn’t care; Jessie had to be okay. Just as he was ready to shout his warning down the hall, Jimmy called, “Hey, Jessie, we’re back here in Noah’s room. You wanna’ see something cool?”

Noah’s eyes got wide. He started to shout a warning but saw Jimmy’s hand in his pocket holding the knife. Seconds passed before Jessie came through the hallway to Noah’s room. Jimmy placed his hand on Jessie’s shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze with a bright smile. Noah saw the exchange and felt like someone had kicked him in the stomach. He looked at Jessie and said, “Mom called me today. She wanted to meet you at the Waffle House,” he looked at the watch on his wrist, “about ten minutes ago.”

Noah knew this was the most absurd thing he could have said. The two siblings had decided long ago that if their mother ever did get out of prison, neither would talk to her on the phone, by letter, or in person.

Jessie looked bewildered at her brother as if he had just lost his mind. His comment had taken her so far off guard she barely even noticed Jimmy’s hand on her shoulder. She said, “What?! Why on earth would you tell her I’d meet her at the Waffle House? I hate that bitch!” Jimmy looked cautiously at Noah as if for the first time he was feeling the tension between them.