In the Shadow of Evil (32 page)

"So she said." Houston looked at him funny.

"What?"

"You gonna tell me what's going on with you two?"

Maddox shrugged, hoping against hope he came across as casual. "I just let her know that if I tell her to do something or stay put, I mean for her to do that."

Houston grinned. "How'd that work out for you, buddy?"

"I think she gets my point now."

Houston narrowed his eyes. "Uh-oh. What'd you do?"

"What do you mean?"

"Come on. I'm your partner. I can read you like the latest best seller. You're turning all kinds of red, and she wouldn't even look you in the eye." He snapped his fingers and pointed at Maddox. "You made a play for her, didn't you?"

Heat nearly scalded Maddox's face.

Houston laughed. "You did." He continued to chuckle, shaking his head. "How'd
that
work out?"

"I just kissed her. That's all."

"That's all?" Houston hooted.

"Shh." Maddox glanced at the doorway. "Keep it down, will ya? She'd probably blow a gasket if she knew I was telling you."

Houston put his hand over his mouth. At least he attempted to curb his amusement at Maddox's predicament. "So, what happened?"

"What happened? She kissed me back. Then all of a sudden, she pushes away and runs into the house." He kept an eye on the doorway. "Man, what's that supposed to mean?"

"That she likes you."

"Abruptly ending the kiss and running away means she likes me?" Maddox frowned. "That makes no sense."

"That, my friend, is a woman." Houston grinned. "Cats and dogs, buddy. Cats and dogs."

"I found it!" Layla rushed into the room with a magazine in her hand. Her eyes shone with excitement, lighting up her whole face. Maddox's insides quickened. "I knew I'd seen something that rang a bell."

"What?" Houston lost all signs of amusement.

"Chinese Sheetrock."

Maddox shook his head. "I'm lost."

She pulled out a chair and put her knee on it. "After all of the hurricanes and flooding, there was a construction boom to rebuild. Especially down here in the southern states. America couldn't keep up with the demand for construction materials. For several years suppliers imported Sheetrock from China."

"I'm with you so far."

"Okay. Well, apparently the process of collecting the gypsum that Sheetrock is made from isn't as refined in China as it is here in America. Several reports occurred in the past couple of years about the high toxicity and the complications arising from the Sheetrock from China. Here, let me read you this part." She lifted the magazine. "'Toxic to copper, this Sheetrock emits sulfur gases that can damage air-conditioning coils, electrical and plumbing components, and other material. Data reports it has actually corroded air-conditioning coils, computer wiring, faucets, copper plumbing and tubing. Additionally, this Sheetrock emits a hydrogen sulfide, or "rotten eggs," odor when exposed to moist air.'"

She turned the page and continued. "'Most disturbing, however, is the effects this Sheetrock can have on one's health. Prolonged exposure to the Sheetrock, especially those with high levels of carbon disulfide, can cause breathing problems, chest pains, and even death.'"

"Wow." Maddox couldn't think of anything else to say. He had to let this soak in.

"Pastor called me to look at the plumbing at the church because the copper pipes had corroded. Bob Johnson had replaced them twice already but couldn't determine the cause. When I was there, the odor was atrocious. Now that I think about it, it did smell just like rotten eggs." She slapped the magazine to the table.

Houston nodded. "This has to be it."

"Where did you get your Sheetrock from? For both the church renovations and the Hope-for-Homes house?" Maddox asked.

"My normal supplier: Y Building Supplies." Her eyes widened. "Oh, goodness. I bet Ed hasn't a clue. I wonder if someone sold him a shipment of the Chinese Sheetrock and never told him. He'll have a fit when he finds out."

Or he'd bought this imported Sheetrock with full knowledge and sold it to Layla without
her
knowing. Maddox shifted in his chair. "We'll look into that tomorrow."

"As well as see what else we turn up on a couple of other angles we're considering," Houston said.

"You don't understand." Layla moved to the counter and poured herself a cup of coffee. "Ed is meticulous about his work and his reputation. He'll literally come unglued if someone pulled the wool over his eyes about this."

Maddox stood and moved beside her, grabbing one of the empty mugs she'd set out beside the coffeepot. "Don't worry, we'll get to the bottom of it. Tomorrow. Too late to look into anything tonight."

Houston stood and pushed his chair to the table.

"Want some coffee?" Layla held up a cup.

"Nah. I'm crawling into that inviting spare bed of yours." He nodded to her, then shot a pointed look at Maddox. "Night, kids."

Maddox took a sip. It nearly scalded his tongue, but he paid no attention.

All he could think about was that he was all alone with Layla.

THIRTY-ONE

"Any man worth his salt will stick up for what he believes right, but it takes a slightly better man to acknowledge instantly and without reservation that he is in error."

—ANDREW JACKSON

NO! HOUSTON COULDN'T GO to bed and leave her alone with Maddox.

But he showed no signs of turning back to the kitchen. His footsteps clattered on the wood floor down the hall.

The coffee she'd just drank soured in her stomach. Layla rinsed out her cup and set it in the draining rack. She turned to find Maddox too close . . . staring.

"What is it with him and that gum? He pops it constantly. Gets on my nerves." Anything to talk about except that kiss.

"He quit smoking about a year ago. Got addicted to gum." Maddox's eyes twinkled.

Made her stomach knot. "Well, I guess I'd better call it a night too." She feigned a yawn. "Been a long day."

He set down his own mug and took hold of her shoulders. "Aren't we going to talk about it?"

A swarm of butterflies swooped through her. She licked her lips with an arid tongue. "Um, about what?" As if she didn't know.

He smiled, then ran his hands down her arms to take her hands in his. "Come on, let's go sit in the living room and talk for a bit."

Splinters! What was she going to say? Maybe he wanted to tell her it was all a mistake, which it was. She let him tug her to the couch, then sat. She drew a throw pillow into her lap.

He sat entirely too close to her. Was he trying to deliberately rattle her? If so, it was working.

All too well.

"Layla, let's talk about what's going on between us." His eyes—those blue, blue eyes—they did really strange things to her.

"I should've never kissed you." The sentence barely made it past the knot in her throat.

Maddox frowned. "Why? And as I recall, I kissed you." He gave her a shaky smile.

Which made those butterflies in her stomach do cartwheels. "Either way, I don't go around kissing men I don't even know. Or allowing them to kiss me."

"But you do know me." He reached for her hand. "You know who I am."

She pulled her hand behind the pillow. "I don't know anything about you, other than you're a detective."

"You know I have a father who had a heart attack."

No fair, bringing that up—played too deeply on her emotions. "Yes, I know that. But I don't know anything about your childhood. Your family, other than your father."

His face fell. "My mother was murdered when I was seventeen."

"Oh, Maddox, I'm so sorry." She reached for his hand and squeezed. "I didn't know."

He lifted his gaze to hers. "I was late for curfew. Came in and found her." His Adam's apple flitted up and down. "She died in my arms."

She leaned over and gave him a hug. She could feel his heartbeat. Layla sat back. "I'm so sorry."

"Not exactly what you wanted to learn, huh?" His crooked smile touched her deeply.

"I understand. Kinda." She kept hold of his hand. Maybe it was time she took a chance with her heart. Now that Randy no longer had any power over her, could she trust another man?

Layla hauled in a deep breath. "Almost eight years ago, I came home to find my mother unconscious on the floor. I was so scared she'd die before the ambulance arrived."

"If you don't mind my asking, what does she have?"

A little snort snuck out. "An addiction."

"Excuse me?"

"She overdosed on Valium. Gave her a brain injury that left her . . . well, you saw how she is." For the first time in many years, anger didn't gnaw at her as she remembered her mother.

He blinked several times, then pinned her to her seat on the couch with his stare. "I'm so sorry. That must've been awful for you."

"No worse than what you had to go through." What were the odds that both of them would have such traumatic events in their teens?

"That's why I became a cop. I didn't want anyone else to go through the pain of not knowing what really happened."

Her heart ached for the young man he'd been. "You never found out?"

He shook his head. "I actually tried to work the case when I was first promoted to detective. Not enough leads."

That had to be agony—not knowing. At least with her mother, she never had a doubt about what happened. "I'm sorry. This is going to sound trite, but I have to say it anyway. Sometimes faith is just accepting when you don't know. Even if you never know. It's the reassurance that God loves you no matter what. That He's always there with you, if you but accept His gift of salvation."

He relaxed back against the couch but still held her hand. "Your faith is really part of you, isn't it?"

She smiled. "Yeah, it is. It's who I am." And if he didn't have faith, she couldn't have him in her life. Not in the way she wanted him. "You said before that you didn't believe in God." She held her breath as she waited for his response.

He ran a thumb over her knuckles. "I did say that." His brows lowered.

"You don't believe in Him?"

"I don't know." He lowered his eyes to focus on their joined hands. "I've spent my entire adult life refuting God because of what happened with my mother."

"I can understand that." She flipped her hand over in his. His steady stroking was distracting her from the conversation. And this discussion needed to take precedent. "Sometimes a tragedy can cause people to question their faith."

He shook his head. "You don't understand, Layla. I didn't question my faith. I was angry . . . furious that a god my mother worshipped would let her die in my arms."

Tears burned her eyes. She squeezed his hand. "It's always your choice, Maddox. You can question or turn from faith, or you can let God use the tragedy to strengthen your faith. It's all up to you."

"I blamed my father, who I thought should've been home protecting her. He, in turn, blamed me because I was late for curfew and if I'd been home on time, she probably wouldn't have been murdered. We haven't gotten along since."

The parallel in their lives was remarkable.

"So not only did I lose my mother, but in a way, I also lost my father."

The tears seeped to the corners of her eyes. "I totally understand. My father died from a sudden heart attack. He was my whole world, and I loved him to distraction. My mother had always taken Valium, ever since I was a little kid. But because my dad was so perfect, I just ignored her failings." She let the tears fall as she remembered and relived the pain. "After Dad died, I begged her to get help. I yelled at her to straighten up. She just sunk deeper into depression, which fed her addiction."

Maddox moved closer, pulling her against him.

"That day I found her, I was so mad at her for doing that to herself." Layla hauled in a deep breath. "I secretly prayed that she'd just die."

Had she just said that out loud? She'd never told anyone about that. Had been terrified God would strike her dead because of it. Had spent serious time fasting and praying for forgiveness.

He held her tighter. His chest vibrated as he breathed deeply. "I know what you're saying. I thought if God was such a wonderful god, he'd have taken my father instead of my mother."

Sniffing, Layla pulled away from Maddox. "Today was the first day I've seen my mother since she went into the nursing home."

Shock marched across his face.

She let out a half laugh-half sob. "I know, right? Not what you'd think of a Christian, is it?"

"But at the nursing home . . ."

"Yes, it was okay. I'd been praying for God to take my anger for years, yet I wasn't doing my part. I wasn't stepping out in faith that He
would
deliver me from my own emotional traps. I was still acting, or reacting, to my own feelings."

"But that's understandable." He reached for her.

She kept out of his reach. "Holding on to my anger for almost eight years? And loving Christ as I do?" She shook her head. "No, it's not understandable and it's not acceptable."

"But you went."

Layla paused. "I did. And God blessed me because of it. But it makes me wonder—how many blessings have I missed out on because I'm too stubborn to be obedient all the time?"

"You know, my father said something similar to me recently."

That lightened her mood. "He did?"

"Yeah. I guess you know he started going to your church."

"Yeah."

"Well, I'm seeing a change in him. A good change."

Her heart pounded. "Becoming saved is like that."

"And I noticed how your friend Mrs. Page was. Even after her husband had just died, she asked about my father."

She smiled. "Ms. Betty's amazing."

"And you and your sister. Both praying with people, looking all peaceful when you do." His face reddened.

She was the one to take his hand this time.

"I just don't know if I fit into religion. I've done a lot of things in my time that I'm not exactly proud of." The blush deepened.

Her insides twisted. He was considering salvation? "And I just shared with you a great example of how imperfect I am."

"But I haven't even believed. I've made fun of Christians, calling them religious nuts." He lowered his head. "You included."