The Runaway Pastor's Wife (9 page)

“Oh no,” Caroline groaned, her voice cracking
with emotion. “That poor child . . . she’s been hurting so badly and all the
while hiding it—from all of us.”

“Mom, where could she have gone? Why wouldn’t
she at least tell me? I’ve got to find her. I have to.” He began pacing the
floor. “I’ll call the airlines. Surely one of them will be able to tell us
something. Or maybe I should call Pete Nardozzi at the Sheriff’s office. He
could probably—”

“No, David.”

“Pete could help us find her. The airlines would
talk to him if they knew it was a missing person situation and—”

“Son? Don’t.”

“What do you mean ‘don’t’?”

“She doesn’t want to be found. She obviously
needs some time alone. She’s made that very clear. Annie’s an intelligent girl.
She wouldn’t do anything foolish or unwise. It sounds to me as if she’s planned
all this out very carefully for a reason. Sometimes we have to be able to love
someone enough to let them go—even for just a little while.”

David stopped pacing and leaned against the
closet door. He shook his head, still refusing to believe it.

His mother continued, her voice soft. “Honey,
when did all this start? What happened?”

“Not now, Mom. I don’t want to talk about that
right now. All I want to do is find her.” David felt his mother’s eyes on him
but refused to raise his head. Moments passed.

“Isn’t it just like Annie to be thinking about
all the rest of us even at a time when she’s suffering so much?” Caroline added
quietly. “To think she’s hidden all this from us. And for her to be thinking
about
me
right now. About the anniversary of Wade’s
death . . . she’s quite a girl, David.” Caroline took a deep
breath. “Quite a girl.”

He shuffled back over to the bed and sat back
down. They sat together in silence for several moments. Finally, David spoke.
“I don’t know what to do. I’m at a total loss here. But I do know we can’t tell
the kids. At least not now. They can’t possibly understand this. Who am I
kidding?
I
don’t even understand this! But with so many of their friends
going through family break-ups right now—no, we’ll just have to tell them she’s
had to leave town for a while. To visit a sick relative or something.”

“I’ll back you in whatever you decide to do. I
prefer not to tell the kids a half-truth, but God willing, maybe Annie will be
back home in three or four days. I can stay over in the guest room and help out
however you need me. But what will you tell the church? You know how badly the
rumors fly around there.”

David stood up. “I don’t know. Let’s get through
tonight and take it one day at a time.”

“Hey Dad? Gran? You up there?” Jeremy yelled
from the bottom of the stairs. “I’m starving! When are we gonna eat?”

Caroline walked over and hugged her son, her
head barely reaching his shoulder. “I’ll take care of the kids. You come down
when you’re ready.”

David nodded, his thoughts still searching for
meaning. “Oh Annie. Where are you?”

CHAPTER 6

Tulsa
,
Oklahoma

Grady Brewster tossed the stack of papers from
his desk into his briefcase and snapped it shut. He would most likely never get
around to working on them, but it never hurt to go through the motions. It had
been an endless day of meetings, and he was exhausted. He walked over to the
glass wall and stood, silently gazing at the panoramic view before him. The
skyline of
Tulsa
was etched against the amber and violet
streaks of the sunset.

He stretched his arms and arched his back, then
thrust his hands deep into the pockets of his Dockers. From his office on the
sixty-first floor of the
Williams
Center
, he
watched the massive exodus of cars and buses heading out to the suburbs, too
tired to join them just yet. The quiet ringing of his phone interrupted his
thoughts. He stepped over to his desk and picked up the slim receiver. “This is
Grady.”

“Grady the Brewmeister? The one and only
Brewster Rooster of the College World Series Champions of 1983? One and the
same?”

“Well, if it isn’t Mr. Baseball himself!” Grady
grinned as he sat back down. “To what do I owe this high privilege, big guy? I
haven’t heard from you since you made Fortune 500.”

Grady relaxed in the familiar teasing from his
old college buddy. It was true. He hadn’t heard from Michael for at least a
couple of years. Hard to believe they had once been as close as brothers. In
fact, since parting their ways after graduation, their friendship had suffered
dismally from lack of attention due to the miles and years between them. Only
these intermittent calls had survived through the years.

He knew Michael suspected jealousy of invading
their friendship. After all, they had both played baseball at
Oklahoma
State
. And
while Grady was extremely competitive, the same doors had not opened for him as
the myriad of offers Michael enjoyed after college. While Michael rode off on
the crest of a wave headed for athletic prestige and national stardom, Grady
had stayed behind struggling in the precarious world of finance.

I wonder what he wants after all this time?

“Forget Fortune 500, man,” Michael teased,
interrupted Grady’s thoughts. “It’s been
way
too
long! You still
up there hobnobbing with the rich and famous? Ever get the itch to move on up
to Wall Street and find some real
action?”

“Nah, I’m happy right here where I am, Michael.
I’ll leave Wall Street to the demented crazies who crave that sort of life. I
couldn’t be happier anywhere else. Built a new home out south of town, got a
beautiful wife who still thinks I’m hot, and two incredible kids who adore
their father. What else could I ask for, right?”

Silence.

“Michael? You still there?”

“Yeah, sorry. I was just thinking—how ironic
life can be sometimes.”

“What do you mean?”

Another pause. “When you mentioned your family
just now, and how happy you are, I realized I was feeling a little jealous.
That’s all. Kinda funny, isn’t it?”

Grady let that sink in for a moment. “So why
don’t you come up sometime and see us? Let me rub your nose in it while I can.”

“How does tonight sound?”

Grady leaned forward in his chair. “Are you in
town? Where are you?” The sounds of laughter and clinking glasses drifted through
the phone line.

“I’m calling from a hangout here in
Houston
. But
if you’ve got some time available, I can be up there in a few hours. I,uh . . .
Grady, I really need to talk to you.”

“What’s up, Michael? You okay?”

“Nothing I can get into over the phone. I can
catch a flight out of here in about an hour and a half and be there about
8:00
. Can
you pick me up at the airport?”

“No problem. What airline?”

“American. Just meet me curbside, okay? Maybe we
can go grab a bite to eat.”

“Sounds great. You sure you’re all right?”

Another hesitation on the other end. “Just give
me a few hours of your time,” Michael answered, his voice hushed. “That’s all I
need. Thanks, buddy.”

“No problem. See you at eight.”

Grady hung up the phone and leaned back in his
leather chair. He swung around to face the credenza behind him. Among the
cluster of framed photographs was a five by seven autographed picture of
Michael in uniform at the World Series. He stared blankly at the picture for
some time, his memories drifting to another place and time. Then, releasing a
heavy sigh, he stood up, reached for his briefcase, and left his office.

Michael returned the receiver to the wall phone
near the restroom. His eyes darted around the crowded bar as his heart beat
against his chest. He had sought out a public place to make this call from a
pay phone. He knew any of his personal lines or even his cell phone would
surely be bugged. He couldn’t risk Elliot knowing about this sudden side trip.

The concern in Grady’s voice had caught him off
guard. Michael visualized the wide grin of his old buddy and was strangely
comforted by the warm feelings of camaraderie that swept over him. He wanted to
believe it was like old times. And tonight he urgently needed a friend he could
trust.

In the urgency of this hour, Grady Brewster was
the only person Michael had even considered calling. There was no one else.

American Airlines Flight 1021

The
flight from
Houston
to
Tulsa
would
take only two hours. As soon as Michael took his seat in First Class, he got to
work with a keen sense of urgency. He knew it was imperative to record the
information that had remained locked in his memory for so many years, and this
was his only chance. He still didn’t know how he would approach Grady with this
volatile story once they met face to face. Or if he even could.

But as long as I have it in writing, at least I
know the truth will come out. Especially if something should happen to
me . . .
He buried the thought, despite the chill
running down his spine.

Lowering the tray table in front of him, he slid
his laptop onto it. Taking a quick look around, he was grateful for his
privacy. While the coach section was bustling with passengers, there were only
five others riding with him in First Class, and no one in the seat directly
beside him.

Where do I start?

He stared out the window at the sparkling city
lights now tilting into view as the plane arced its path across the night sky,
leaving
Houston
in its
wake. With a shrug of his shoulders, his fingers began pecking the keyboard,
telling the strange story.

Grady,

I’m
writing this letter to you in the event that something unfortunate happens to
me. I realize I am in a great deal of danger. I also realize it is crucial that
the truth be finally exposed. I ask that you personally forward this
information to the United States Attorney General immediately. I’m not kidding,
Grady. This is serious.

I guess
I need to begin at the beginning, with my marriage to Amelia Thomas, the
daughter of U.S. Congressman Elliot Thomas of
Texas
, in
1991. As you know, a few years later, after a successful career in major league
baseball, I retired and pursued my present career as CEO of The Sports Page. A
couple of years ago my company made the Fortune 500. While my father-in-law
initially helped me get the company started with his financial backing, The
Sports Page belongs to me and my shareholders.

Or so I
thought. I’ve recently learned that Elliot has, in fact, manipulated my
shareholders from the start. They are his cronies and they answer to him
directly. Every single one of them. This deception apparently began from the
inception of my company. It is with a deep sense of betrayal that I now know my
entire staff, which I have always believed to be totally loyal to me, has
instead been loyal to Elliot from the outset.