In the Shadow of Evil (28 page)

Lord, help me. Please. Help me get over the anger. Help me let go of the pain. Help me forgive as You forgive.

But she was human . . . and didn't know if she could truly forgive her mother. No matter how much she wanted.

"HEY POP. WHERE'S GEORGE?"

His father looked up from the paper. Sitting in his recliner, he didn't seem sick at all. Nothing to indicate he'd had a heart attack and had been in the hospital.

"He went to pick up some dinner and grab some clothes." Pop lowered the paper to his lap. "I appreciate all the attention, but I don't need someone to babysit me."

Maddox denied the sigh. So much for his father's words of this morning. The I'm-a-big-military-man-and-I-am-invincible attitude had returned. He sunk to the couch, determined to be the bigger man this time. "Why don't you just enjoy being taken care of for a change?"

Pop smiled. "I guess it is kinda nice. George is even getting me apple pie."

"Is that allowed? On the diet the doctor gave you?"

"I'm not a child. I think I can figure out what to eat." But he snorted. "Yes, George made sure that what I wanted was on the stupid diet plan."

Wow, ten whole minutes alone together and Maddox didn't feel belittled. Had to be a record. "How're you feeling?"

"Same as always. I think those doctors are wrong about me having a heart attack."

"Pop—"

His father held up his hand. "I know what you're gonna say, but even George thinks it's a good idea to get a second opinion."

Second opinions were good. As long as he got medical care. "I think that's a smart move."

Pop looked happier than Maddox could remember in a long time.

An unfamiliar feeling crept up his back. Maybe he couldn't remember because he'd avoided being around his father for quite some time. He blinked back the emotions, concentrating on anything else. "Can I get you something?" He glanced at the table beside his father's chair. It held a lamp, a bottle of pills, a glass of water, and a . . . a
Bible?

"I'm good."

"Would you like some fresh water?" Maddox shot to his feet. "That doesn't even have ice anymore."

Pop laughed. "It's fine. I'm all set. Sit back down. Tell me about this case you've got."

Maddox dropped to the couch. Good thing because his knees were a bit weak. He couldn't remember his father asking about his work before. Ever. "Houston and I interviewed two suspects today."

"Close to solving the case?"

"I wish." He leaned back against the leather couch.

"Don't let it get you down. You're a good detective. You'll solve it."

The praise lit something in Maddox's chest. His father had never expressed pride in Maddox's job. Had never really praised him period. It was . . . strangely nice. Maybe George was right. Maybe he should try to form a relationship with his father. It'd been months since he'd visited his father's house. He'd kept their communication limited to phone calls.

"Son, I don't want to upset you, but I need to talk to you about something."

All the energy sapped right out of him. His father had softened Maddox up, only to hit him with a blow. Why had he allowed himself to hope?

"I owe you an apology, and hope you'll be able to forgive me."

His father—what? He leaned forward. "Uh, what're you talking about?"

"I made you feel like I blamed you for your mother's death. In truth, I did blame you. But it was only to cover my own guilt." Pop's eyes were moist.

What was he supposed to say to that? "It's okay."

"No, it's not. You were a kid. Supposed to miss curfew." He shook his head. "What you said at the hospital . . . you were right. I should've retired long before your mother was killed. I should've been home."

"Pop, I was just angry. I didn't mean that." Or did he?

His father smiled, but it was a sad smile. "We've gone on too long blaming one another. I never should have blamed you, but I was hurt. More than anything I've ever felt in my life. Your mother was like a part of me. When we lost her, a part of me died with her. The best part of me." Pop wiped his eyes.

Maddox felt his own eyes burning.

"That's no excuse. You had lost your mother, the one parent who actually acted like a parent. I should've been there for you, but I wasn't. I was too wrapped up in my own pain and anger. I lashed out at you." His voice hitched. "I can't tell you how sorry I am."

Tears filled Maddox's eyes, blurring his vision of his father. "I blamed you, Pop. I thought if you'd been home, nothing like that would happen. But that wasn't fair. It wasn't your fault. I needed someone to blame. Someone to be angry with. You were the easiest target." The words were so much easier to say than he'd ever imagined. And he wanted to say them. Wanted to move past this hurdle keeping him from his father. "I'm sorry, Pop. And sorry I haven't ever been able to find her killer."

Pop spread open his arms. Maddox found his legs under him and rushed to his father. He leaned into the embrace. Feeling the warmth. Smelling the familiar scent of his father's soap. Holding his father as Pop clung to him. His father shook as he sobbed. Maddox couldn't hold back his own emotions. It was as if a dam had burst and all the pain he'd felt as a little boy gushed through.

He gave his father a final squeeze, then pushed back. Maddox smiled as he sat in the chair beside Pop's recliner.

"You don't need to solve her case, son. Not for me."

"But wouldn't you like to know why? Why her? Why not the woman next door? Why not the woman down the street? Why was Mom singled out?"

"Sometimes we aren't meant to know. We just have to accept."

This wasn't his father at all. Maybe the medications really were causing emotional side effects. "How can you say that?"

His father reached for his Bible and opened it. He turned to a place marked by a ribbon. "It says here in the book of Job: 'How great is God—beyond our understanding.'"

Unbelievable. "You're . . . quoting Scripture to me?"

"I can't tell you how much becoming saved has changed me. My entire life. I love reading the Bible, digging into God's Word." He shook his head. "I owe you another apology. I should have made sure you continued to go to church after your mother died. She'd started a great thing in you, and I let it fall away just as I did so many things."

"I didn't want to go, Pop. And I don't buy all that Bible garbage."

"Don't say that. God loves you. He's been waiting for you to come back to Him."

"Where was God when Mom was murdered? Why didn't He stop someone from breaking in and killing her?" The old, familiar anger swelled inside of Maddox.

"Son, you're still so angry. You have to let go. God can't heal your heart until you let go of the anger."

"Heal my heart? Mom died in my arms. I don't think God or anybody is going to heal me from that." The memory haunted him in his dreams. Sometimes seeping over into his waking hours.

"God can. And He will. If you ask Him. Psalm 18:2 promises that. It says, 'The LORD is my rock, my fortress and my deliverer; my God is my rock, in whom I take refuge. He is my shield and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold.'"

His father had become one of those religious nuts. Maddox shook his head. "I'm glad you've found something that gives you peace. Makes you okay with Mom's murder. I really am." He scooted back in the chair. "But I can't buy into all that. I deal with real people every day. People who kill for a reason, and some who kill just because they can."

"Oh, Maddox." Pop's eyes filled with tears again. "You have to forgive whoever killed your mother. Forgive him, so God can forgive you. He will. And He can help you forgive too. Just ask."

Tears again? Twice in one day? He'd never seen his father cry. Ever. Even at Mom's funeral Pop had sat there like a stone statue.

His cell phone vibrated. Maddox yanked it off his belt. "Hello."

"Maddox? It's Layla."

Her voice brought her image to the forefront of his mind. "Is something wrong?" What if someone was trying to break in? He stood, pacing the small living room of his father's house.

"Alana got a text message on my phone. From the same number."

His body went stiff. His feet took root in the carpet. The blood clogged in his veins.

Layla was in trouble.

TWENTY-SEVEN

"We must be our own before we can be another's."

—RALPH WALDO EMERSON

KNOTS BUNCHED IN HER body, threatening to sink her in an ocean of misery.

Layla could do this. It was in and out—go there, stick her head in and make sure no one had tried to bomb the nursing home, then head back home. She could tell Alana that she'd kept her promise.

Layla had dressed in jeans and a sweater and now paced the living room in front of the windows. Maddox had told her not to move until he arrived. But she was losing her nerve with every minute that fell off the clock.

Car headlights shone through the window.

She moved to the front door. The quicker she could get this over with, the better she'd feel.

He only knocked once before she opened the door wide. And froze. "Detective Wallace."

He grinned in his red shirt with yellow flowers. "Ms. Taylor." He lifted a duffel bag. "I understand the slumber party's at your house."

Stepping aside, Layla waved him in. "I'm sorry. Come in. I thought you were Maddox." She shut and locked the door behind him.

"I figured if I got here first, I could call the guest bed. Leave the couch for Maddox."

She grinned and led him to the spare bedroom. "Here it is."

He tossed the duffel on the bed, then followed her down the hall to the living room. "Actually, Maddox should be here any minute."

"Oh, so he did call you about the text? I have to tell you, it's really got Alana tied up in knots."

"Text? What're you talking about?"

"He didn't call you?"

"No. Maybe you'd better tell me what's going on."

She told him the story, leaving nothing out. His face grew more somber with each sentence. When she finished, he grabbed his cell from his belt. "I'm going to call our commander and have him get in touch with the sheriff's office in Baton Rouge parish. We'll get a detective over to the hospital to pick up the phone tonight." He pressed a button and stepped into the hallway.

Layla's phone rang. She sprinted to the kitchen to answer it. "Hello."

"Are you standing me up for practice?"

"Jeffery!" She'd totally forgot. How could she forget dance rehearsal?

"I'm hurt. You forgot, didn't you?"

"I did. And I'm sorry. There's a lot going on right now. I have to deal with some personal things."

He chuckled. "No problem. My bride will be happy to have me help her out at the house." He paused. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah." She spied Detective Wallace closing his phone and moving back into the living room. "I just have to get some stuff handled. Again, I'm sorry."

"You know where to find us if you need us."

"Thanks." She turned off the phone just as another set of headlights punctured the night's darkness.

Detective Wallace opened the door for his partner. The two talked in hushed tones before Maddox stepped inside and set a gym bag next to the couch. He came to her and took her hands in his. "Houston's got someone on the way to the hospital. They'll get the phone, and we've requested an escort for Alana back to the hotel."

Gratitude warmed her more than his touch. "Thank you."

"Now, you want to go to the nursing home, right?"

Want
wasn't the word she'd choose, but it was better to let it go than explain. She nodded.

"Get your coat, then. I'll drive." He looked over her shoulder to his partner. "You'll hold down the fort?"

Detective Wallace made a big show of sighing heavy and dropping onto her recliner. "It's a hardship, but I'll manage." He grinned, waggling his eyebrows at her.

She couldn't help but smile in return. The man had to be terminally sweet.

Layla grabbed her coat, then followed Maddox out into an angry wind. She snuggled deeper into the lining of her leather duster.

Thunder cracked.

She jumped. Maddox slipped an arm around her waist. "It's okay. I'm right here. Nothing's going to happen to you." He opened the passenger door for her.

His words and presence did give her a sense of security. Of calmness. But she wasn't worried about the person threatening her right now. She was terrified of visiting her mother.

She watched him walk around the car. When he was around, she wanted to smile all the time. Felt almost giddy inside.

And then she went cold as realization hit—she was falling for Maddox Bishop.

No, that couldn't happen. He was rough around the edges. And he was mad at God. She couldn't fall for a man who didn't love God. She'd gone that route once before, and look how it turned out.

Randy broke her heart.

Oh, Lord, help me.

Maddox started the car, the heater blowing, and backed out of her drive. Good thing it was dark because she needed to concentrate. Needed to think. Needed to pray.

Westneath Nursing Home was less than twenty minutes away, just on the other side of Eternal Springs. Not a lot of time.