The Ravine
Authors: Robert Pascuzzi
Tags: #Christian Books & Bibles, #Christian Living, #Literature & Fiction, #Mystery & Suspense, #Religion & Spirituality, #Fiction, #Mystery, #Christian Fiction, #Inspirational
The Ravine
The Ravine
A N
OVEL OF
E
VIL,
H
OPE, AND
THE
A
FTERLIFE
Inspired by a True Story
Robert Pascuzzi
Hope Messenger
The Ravine
Hope Messenger
This is a novel and entirely a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or, if loosely inspired by any actual event, such event has been transformed entirely into fiction by the author and should not be read to portray any actual persons, living or dead, or locales or events.
Copyright © 2014 by Robert Pascuzzi
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted, in any form or by any manner whatsoever, electronic, mechanical, recording, photocopying, or otherwise, without prior written permission of the publisher, except as provided by United States of America copyright law.
ISBN-10: 0615982999
ISBN-13: 9780615982991
Cover design by Elizabeth Mihaltse
Cover image (c) Roy Bishop/Archangel Images
To our friends
There are some who bring a light so great to the world that even after they have gone, the light remains
.
—Author Unknown
Contents
Chapter 3 There Are No Coincidences
Chapter 11 Boots, Shoes, Hands, and Feet
Chapter 15 What a Difference a Day Makes
Lord, help us realize that everything that happens to us happens for a reason. Help us realize that every sorrow or setback we experience can be transformed into a blessing, if we but trust in you. Help us realize that if we trust you, all things—even tragedies—will work out for our good.
Amen.
Prologue
H
ER HEAD ACHED
the ache that always came when she saw things too clearly, when it was impossible to push the images and sounds out of her mind. It was especially difficult at this time of day—4 a.m., just before dawn, when the darkness grudgingly ceded its power and the veil was most transparent. This was a particularly angry dawn.
The cries of the little boy swirled through her head, ferociously bringing her to her knees and then all fours. The sound she uttered began as a growl and grew into shouts of an otherworldly language, before finally reaching a pleading howl. “No, dear Lord. Don’t let this happen. Stop him
now!
” But she knew it was too late. She could see the dark figure lurking at the top of the stairs, manipulating, dictating, and preventing the slightest hope of reprieve. There was only one place to go, one thing to do, and now it was done.
By the time the sun rose, Joanna was seated in her chair by the window. Watching, just watching. The breeze brought some sense of relief. The most intense pain had passed, but she was drained and weeping. Not for herself, nor for those who were gone, but for the people for whom this awful day was just beginning.
How cruel a beautiful day is for the unfortunate few suddenly plucked from their mundane existence, she thought. The rest of the world goes about its business, the more fortunate unwittingly mocking their fellow travelers, unaware of how grateful they should be for their
traffic jams, quarreling kids, the dress that’s too tight, the annoying talking heads on the morning news.
Go ahead. Offer up your prayers for protection, and throw in a “thank you” to purchase a little extra insurance for your loved ones. Perhaps today will not be your day. But my day is every day
.
God had given Joanna a special gift, or burden. She’d lived with it for as long as she could remember. She knew things and saw things that did not make sense to those who lived in what she called “the natural.” But now it was time to get to work. She usually felt an odd peace right at the beginning, but there was something about this time that just didn’t seem right. She waited. Then the reflection in the window came into focus. She nodded and said, “Okay, now I’m ready.”
C
HAPTER
1
Out of the Blue
Life changes in an instant
.
The ordinary instant
.
—Joan Didion
P
ARADISE ON EARTH
has a name: Sorrento, Italy. That’s what Tony Turner said to himself as he breathed in the warm, salty air and gazed at the deep-blue water lapping into the Bay of Naples. He’d been humming that catchy melody to the famous Dean Martin song since he woke up that morning, and it wasn’t about to stop playing in his head.
Though he’d slept through what was reputed to be a spectacular sunrise, he was planning to catch that evening’s sunset—that is, if he wasn’t napping after a day that would include a visit to Pompeii and perhaps a side trip to Mount Vesuvius. Then he and Emily had reservations for a late dinner at Don Pedro, arguably the best restaurant in all of Sorrento. For now, he was content to sit on the veranda, sip his first cup of coffee, kick back, and try his best to forget about business for a week.
It wasn’t an easy sell, but he’d convinced Emily to leave the kids with her parents, get away, and take some time alone, together, for the first time in a long time. They had even made a pact: Emily would try not to worry about the kids if Tony wouldn’t talk about work—and so far they had pretty much stuck to it. The deal was cinched when Tony
had agreed to unplug from all the devices to which he was addicted once he stepped on the plane at Hopkins.
So when the house phone rang, shattering her calm, Emily lunged for it, certain something had happened with one of the kids. Just then, Tony leaned back to soak in the sun, and so was oblivious to the “I told you so” stare she aimed at him, irritating Emily even more. She’d deal with him after she sorted out whatever was going on back home in Ohio.
“Hello, who’s this? Is that you, Mom?” Emily asked.
“Hel-lo, Emily? It’s not your mom. It’s Nick. I need to talk to Tony, about business. Is he there?”
“Yes, he is Nick, but we’re really trying to get away from things. Can’t this wait till we get back?” She tried to sound annoyed for Tony’s benefit, but she was relieved it was just some work issue.
“I’m really sorry, Emily, but it can’t wait! Can you put him on, please?”
“Okay, Nick, calm down,” Emily said. “Tony, it’s Nick. He says he has to talk to you right away. You better talk to him before he has a stroke or something,” she said, handing him the phone.
“Tony, it’s Nick. Hey, man, I’m really glad I got you. I tried to call your cell. Didn’t you get my message?”
Tony hated when people asked him if he’d gotten their voice mail, when they were speaking on the phone and it obviously didn’t matter any longer. Tony’s first inclination was to unload on Nick, but the beautiful vista had started to work its magic, so he hesitated.
Tony had busted his butt over the years and now had a small chain of fifteen sports-supply stores, called Steve’s Sporting Goods, throughout northern Ohio. It didn’t take a genius to be successful at it, but it took some guts, lots of hard work, and the ability to make common sense decisions all day long. Nick was a childhood friend who had been his right-hand man for years now. True, Nick didn’t practice quantum
physics in his spare time, but he was honest and could be counted on to show up, work late, and usually make the right call. By now, Tony expected him to be able to deal with personnel issues, late shipments, markdowns, and any of the usual problems they encountered.
“I turned the stupid thing off last night so I might actually enjoy my vacation. This better be important, buddy. You know I promised Emily I’d forget about work for a week.”
“It is, it is, man, I swear, Tony. There’s somethin’ really weird going on with the Little Brother, really weird. Ya gotta listen to me; it could be really serious. Danny’s done something freaky and we can’t find him.”
Tony wasn’t surprised that the issue had something to do with Danny. Unfortunately, Danny was always finding one way or another to screw up his life, from bad financial decisions to marital problems to a less-than-exemplary work ethic. The truth was that Tony had pulled Danny’s chestnuts out of the fire more times than he could remember. However, since Danny had married Rachel—really, since his two boys had come along, around ten years ago—for the most part, he’d seemed to get his act together. Tony now even trusted him to run five of his stores, under Nick’s supervision.
Tony’s irritation turned to concern. “Okay, could you just tell me what you’re talking about already?”
“You know that Logan kid who works for Danny at the Copley Street store?”
“You mean that sleazeball creep he was supposed to fire?”
“Yeah, yeah, that’s the guy. He’s here with me now and he’s really freaked out. He says he just came from Danny’s . . . says he was there all night, and—”
Tony raised his voice, starting to lose it. “Why would Logan have been at Danny’s all night? I told Danny to fire that jerk because he said he caught him red-handed. Why would he let that loser stay at his house after he fired him? That makes no sense.”
“I don’t get it either, but he says he was there all night, and Danny did some really weird stuff. The dude is freaked, man, really. You better talk to him.”
“Okay, then, put him on.”
“Hey, Tony, sorry to bother you,” Logan said, “but I’m kinda freaked out and not sure what to do.”
Tony pictured the skinny creep, with his hat on sideways, probably high on something, stogie in his mouth, trying to get over on him with some BS story.
“What’s this all about, Logan? Just be straight with me.”
“Umm, well, I met up with Danny last night at the Copley store. And, well, he told me, ya, know, to follow him to his house and wait in the garage until he needed my help. So, ya know, I did that, but then I fell asleep, and I don’t know what Danny did, but he woke me up this morning and told me I had to leave right away. So I did, but he was acting real strange—spooky, ya know?”
“No, I don’t know! Asked for your help with what?”
“I don’t really know, man, but I don’t wanna put ya on. I can’t really say. It’s so crazy, you wouldn’t believe me anyway. I just stayed in the garage all night; I didn’t do anything, but I just thought you should know, because he was acting real strange.”
“I still don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, and none of this makes any sense. Did you pay him back the money you stole? Where’s Danny now?”
“I don’t know, but I think you oughta call him. I’m gonna pay you back in a—”
“You’re damned right I’ll call him,” Tony said and slammed down the phone.
“Just when I think I’m gonna get a few days off, Danny has to do something stupid,” he shouted to Emily.
“What’s going on, Tony?”
“I don’t know! Maybe nothing, maybe something. These jerks just call me out of the blue and dump this on me. I have to call Danny.”
He turned on his phone and discovered a flood of activity since he’d turned it off the night before: two new voice mails and a bunch of new e-mails. He skipped the voice mail from Nick and went directly to the one his brother had left the night before, at ten o’clock, Ohio time. Tony tapped the screen and heard Danny’s voice through the speakerphone.
“Tony, it’s Danny. I just fired Logan here at the Copley store. He admitted he took the money and said he was sorry, but said he couldn’t pay us back. He begged me not to fire him, but I told him I didn’t have no choice—first he sorta started cryin’, then he got really pissed off, and said he was gonna kill me. I’m driving home now, and I think he might be following me. He sorta went nuts, and said he was gonna come to my house and stuff . . . I think the guy could be dangerous, so I thought you should know. I don’t know what to do; so, if you get a chance, call me back.”
Now Tony was even more annoyed. Either Danny or Logan was lying because the two stories just didn’t add up.
So much for my peaceful morning
, he thought. But now he was roped in; he had to get to the bottom of things.
He checked his e-mail and, sure enough, there was one from Danny. It had come in at 4:48 a.m., Danny’s time, a little over two hours ago. And that was when Tony realized that something was very, very wrong.
As Tony read Danny’s e-mail, panic washed over him: “Life insurance—MAC Mutual/AGG. Take care of Evan and Christopher.”