In the Shadow of Evil (39 page)

Electricity zapped through her. "I'd like that." She met his stare as he lifted his head. "Very much."

STILL NO SIGN OF her.

"Stop staring out the window. She'll get here. A watched pot never boils." Pop opened the oven and stuck the pan of yeast rolls inside. "Get some glasses out for the tea."

Maddox moved away from the window and grabbed glasses from Pop's cabinet. One nearly slipped but he recovered. It wobbled.

"Boy, this girl must be the one because she's sure got you all tied up in knots."

A diesel engine sounded in the driveway before Maddox could respond. He rushed to the front door and opened it.

Layla hopped from her truck. She wore jeans and a button-down denim shirt. Her hair had the same flyaway appeal as it had this morning in church.

She'd never looked so good.

Once inside, they sat down to eat. Pop blessed the food, and for the first time, Maddox really paid attention. He looked forward to his talk with Pastor Chaney. Pop had told him to write down questions he had, and Pastor would be happy to help him find the answers.

After lunch Layla insisted on doing the dishes. Maddox helped, because just being around her made him happy. More than he'd ever thought possible.

"I'll be right back," Pop announced, leaving them alone in the kitchen.

"So," Layla handed him a sudsy plate to rinse, "I couldn't help but overhear you're meeting with Pastor tomorrow."

"Yeah. I'm pretty excited."

She handed him a glass. "What did you think of the service this morning?"

"Kinda funny that it was about the part of the Bible Pop had me read last night."

Layla wore that shy smile that nearly slammed his heart into his spine. "That's not funny, that's God."

Her saying that didn't bother him in the least. Matter-of-fact, it made him smile.

She pulled her hands from the soapy water. A bubble drifted up and landed on the tip of her nose. "I think that's all of the dishes." She looked so cute and happy. It felt so right that she be here with him, doing domestic things.

Maddox couldn't resist. He grabbed her by the waist, spun her to face him, and kissed her. Soundly. Thoroughly. With all the emotion bottled inside of him.

"Excuse me." Pop's voice echoed through the kitchen.

Layla jumped away from him, her face brighter red than Houston's Hawaiian-print shirt.

"I, uh, have something for you, Maddox." Pop held a cardboard box.

"What?" He slipped his arm around Layla's waist again.

"Come on into the living room. Both of you." Pop turned and strolled out.

Maddox pulled Layla to him quickly and planted another kiss on her lips.

She kissed him back, then shoved him away. "Behave. Your father's waiting." She led the way into the living room.

Pop sat in his recliner, the box on the coffee table.

Maddox sat on the couch closest to his father while Layla sat beside him. "What's this?" He motioned to the box.

"Some of your mother's things. I thought you should have them."

He sat still for a moment, waiting for the anger and resentment to rise up. It didn't. He smiled at his father and reached for the box. "What's in here?"

"Some of her pictures. Mementos." Pop shook his head. "Some stuff she had in a box that I never went through."

Maddox opened the box and pulled out a picture of his parents, along with George. "How old were y'all here?" He handed the photo to his father.

"That was taken before our senior party." Pop grinned. "Good times." He handed the picture to Layla. "See what a handsome devil I was back in the day?"

She smiled at Pop. "Back in the day? You're still a handsome man."

His father laughed and slapped Maddox on the back. "Ah, this one's a charmer. But smart. Better keep her."

With a warm glow burning in his gut, Maddox nodded at his father but kept his gaze on Layla's blushing face. "Oh, I intend to."

THIRTY-NINE

"He that cannot forgive others breaks the bridge over which he must pass himself; for every man has need to be forgiven."

—THOMAS FULLER

IT HAD BEEN AS near a perfect day as could be.

Maddox leaned back on his couch, smiling to himself. Being with Layla at Pop's, he'd felt . . . complete. Like everything in his life was finally coming together and making sense.

The case was solved, making his commander happy. Another notch in Houston's and his work-performance record.

Layla was safe, and they had a date tomorrow night. He didn't know where the future would take them, but he'd do his best to make sure wherever it went, they'd go together.

He'd talk with the pastor tomorrow. He'd reread the Scripture his father had shown him, and it resonated inside of him. Made him feel more hopeful than he ever had before.

And Pop. For the first time ever Maddox really felt like he could love his father freely, and that love was returned.

Maddox sighed. He spied the box sitting on the floor. He lifted it and pushed aside the weakened panels.

More pictures. Mom. Mom and Pop. Mom, Pop, and George. Mom holding a baby—him. She looked so happy. So alive.

He set down the pictures and pulled out a minialbum. The first page was her senior picture, with her swirly handwriting documenting important events. Several pages included familiar shots. Then a photo of her hugely pregnant. And her hopes for her baby written around the picture. Maddox's eyes filled with tears. He closed the album and set it on the coffee table.

The next item in the box was a stack of letters. He checked the address and return address. All the letters she and Pop had exchanged when he was away with the military. They were tied up in a red bow. With tightness in his stomach, Maddox set those beside the minialbum. It'd be too much a violation of Pop's and her privacy to read their personal letters.

Only one item remained in the box—a leather book. He took it out and held it, the pages were yellowed with age. Maddox flipped to the front page and scanned his mother's delicate handwriting.

It was her journal.

He started to put it back into the box, but something made him stop. He flipped to a random page and read.

Maddy is getting so big. So much like Tyson. The two men of my heart. What would my life be without them? And George too.

He skipped several pages and scanned again.

Tyson is off again—I can never know exactly where. Now that he's in high school, Maddy needs his father. Thank goodness George is around. I'm a little concerned about him, though. I thought I smelled liquor on his breath last night when he came by to fix the leaky sink. I'm worried about him.

Maddox waited for the bitterness to show its ugly head. Nothing. He smiled. Maybe he had been healed of the wounds of the past. He skipped ahead in the journal.

I cannot believe George! How dare he tell me he loves me? He knows my heart belongs to Tyson. He's ruined our friendship with his declaration. I wish Tyson were home.

What? Maddox sat upright on the couch, holding the journal in his trembling hands. Uncle George had loved Mom?

Pop had said George and Mom had dated. George had told him that he'd loved a woman and lost her.

Maddox's stomach turned. Had George been talking about Mom?

He turned the page, not skipping any.

George called today and asked if he could come by. I refused. He called tonight to apologize and asked if he could come by tomorrow night and explain. Tyson gets home next week, and I'd hate for their friendship to be awkward. I told George I'd see him tomorrow night at eight. Maddy has a date, so George and I can talk freely.

The next entry:

I had to kick George out of the house. He's still outside screaming. He told me he'd always loved me, that Tyson wasn't good enough for me, and that he'd be a better father to Maddy. He tried to kiss me! I could smell and taste the alcohol on him. He was drunk. He tried to do more, but I grabbed Maddy's baseball bat and hit him in the gut. He's screaming that if he can't have me, no one should. I don't know what to do. I wish Tyson were here. Should I call the police? Maddy will be home any minute now. George is scaring me. I should call the police.

Maddox couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. His hands trembled as he turned the page.

Nothing.

The next page. Nothing.

The entire rest of the journal was empty.

Maddox went back to the last entry.

It was dated the day his mother had been murdered.

"ARE YOU SURE YOU want to play it this way?" Houston shot him a look that screamed his concern.

Maddox nodded. "It's the only way. I owe it to her to find out the truth."

"Your call." Houston opened the door to Maddox's spare bedroom. "I'll be listening for the code."

"Thanks, partner." Maddox went back to the living room and paced.

Pop and George would be here any minute. He'd get one chance at this. One opportunity to learn the truth.

His only regret would be hurting Pop. He'd spent the better part of the night tossing and turning, going over his options. No matter what he did, Pop would get hurt. But this way, maybe, just maybe, Pop would get some closure. The truth would set them all free.

Layla had left not even half an hour ago. She had begged him to go another route or let Houston follow up. He'd declined, knowing he had to be the one to do this. Had to finish it once and for all. In the end, she'd prayed for him and his father. Was it those prayers that kept his nerves at bay?

A car door slammed. Then another one.

Maddox let out a slow breath. He lowered his head to his top button. "They're here."

A sharp rap on the door.

He crossed the room and opened the door. "Hey, guys." He grabbed his father into a hug, then moved aside to let George and Pop enter. "Come in and sit down."

"What's this big news you have for us?" Pop sat on the couch.

George sat in the chair. "Yeah, what's the news? Is it about Layla?"

"Or your meeting with Pastor?" Pop's eyes were bright with hope.

Maddox smiled down at his father. "I'll get to that in a minute."

"So it
is
about Layla." George slapped his knee. "Well, boy, don't keep us waiting."

"It is about love."

"I knew it." Pop grinned wide.

"You two getting hitched?"

"Actually, George, it's about Mom." Maddox planted his feet, holding his stance.

"Your mother?" Pop's brows bunched.

"About that box of her things you gave me yesterday. I went through them last night." He cut his eyes to George.

The man had the nerve to look as confused as Pop. "I don't understand."

"Me either," Pop said.

"Pop, you said there were things in there you never went through after Mom died."

"Right. Some of it . . . well, I just couldn't."

"I understand." Maddox hated seeing the pain on his father's face. Hated the pain he was about to inflict. But he had to know. Pop had to know. "One of the things in there was Mom's journal."

George's head jerked up. "Abigail kept a journal?"

"Yes, she did. And she wrote daily. Details." Maddox narrowed his eyes at the man he'd once loved more than his own father. "Explicit details."

Befuddlement marched across Pop's face. "I don't understand."

Maddox glared at George. "I'm sure you don't, Pop, but I think George knows what I'm talking about. Don't you?"

Pop looked at his friend. "George?"

"I don't know what you mean, son." But George's expression clearly said otherwise.

"I think you do. And don't call me
son.
"

"Maddox, what are you talking about?" Pop's voice rose.

"Why don't we ask George?" Maddox let his full anger display in his scowl at George. "Why don't you tell us about the day before Mom died? The day you told her that you loved her."

Pop gasped. "What?" He turned to face George.

"It was a mistake. That's back when I was drinking. I don't even remember." George shifted in his seat, fidgeting.

"You did come back to apologize. The next day. The day she was murdered. You were drunk. You tried to force yourself on her."

"I did not!"