A Shred of Evidence (23 page)

Julie let go of Ross’s hand and wiped a tear from her cheek. She turned over and hugged her pillow, wondering why she had ever trusted God with the lives of her children. Where was He when Nathaniel lay crushed and dying, and when some monster had stolen her daughter’s innocence and perhaps her life?

Julie felt the sting of betrayal all over again and felt justified for wanting nothing to do with God or the church.

Ellen Jones stood in the third row of Crossroads Bible Church, singing the last stanza of the final hymn and trying not to feel annoyed that Guy had opted out for a third consecutive Sunday.

When the singing stopped, Pastor Peter Crawford said a
closing prayer, then dismissed the congregation with a blessing.

Ellen greeted a few people she and Guy had gotten to know in Sunday school and was glad when they didn’t press her about why he wasn’t with her.

She filed out the front door and shook the pastor’s hand. “Wonderful sermon. I don’t know how you do it week after week.”

“Thankfully, I’m just the vessel.” Pastor Crawford leaned closer to her and lowered his voice. “Ellen, do you have a few minutes? I need to speak with you before you leave.”

And I know what about
. “I’m not in a hurry,” she said. “I’ll just wait over there.”

“Actually, would you mind waiting in my office? I won’t be long.”

Ellen went down the front steps and across the courtyard to the door marked
Pastor’s Office
. She went inside and decided to wait in the reception area. She strolled around the room, admiring the framed Ron DiCianni prints on the walls, thinking about what she could say to defend Guy without justifying his choice of priorities.

“Here we are.” Pastor Crawford breezed through the door with his wife Dorothy. “Please, let’s go in my office.”

Ellen followed them into what Guy had jokingly called the
inner sanctum
. She sat in a chair facing the couch where the pastor and his wife sat side-by-side, their expressions like stone.

Pastor Crawford coughed and then locked his fingers together. “Ellen, something was brought to our attention last night. I’m not one to pry into other people’s business unless it involves an issue of faith and morals, but I can’t in all conscience ignore this.”

Ellen stared at him blankly. “Ignore what?”

“I’ve noticed that Guy has been absent from church and Bible study for a while now. And I know he spends several days a week in Tallahassee.”

Ellen nodded. “His law firm has him working on a big case. He’s got his priorities a little out of whack, but he—”

“This isn’t about Guy,” Pastor Crawford said. “It’s about what you’re doing while he’s gone.”

“What do you mean?”

“We were hoping you would tell us,” Dorothy said. “We certainly understand how difficult it must be having all that time alone.”

Ellen held Dorothy’s gaze and tried to make sense of what she had said. “I
need
time alone. I’m writing a novel. Would you please tell me what this is about?”

Pastor Crawford glanced at Dorothy and then at Ellen. “A lady who said she’s your neighbor came to us and told us you’re having an affair.”

“An affair? How ridiculous. What in the world would make her think that?”

“She claims she saw the police run you and a gentleman off the beach in the middle of the night. She also claims she saw you in a secluded area of the beach with that same man two other times—including yesterday when she saw you holding hands. Knowing your husband has been gone, this information is very disconcerting—”

“Pastor, stop right there,” Ellen said. “I would
never
cheat on Guy! There’s a simple explanation for all this.”

Ellen told the pastor and his wife about Chief Seevers having found her and Guy asleep on the beach and how embarrassing it had been. She also explained her two brief encounters with Ned Norton and how they had impacted her spiritual life.

“Good heavens,” Ellen said. “Ned must be in his mid-eighties! Maybe if this busybody would put on her glasses, she would at least get
one
of her facts straight!”

The pastor’s face suddenly looked sunburned and he shifted his position. “Ellen, forgive us for putting you through this.
Surely you can understand why we have to pursue this type of accusation?”

“I don’t blame you, Pastor, but I sure would like the name of the lady who’s gossiping about things she knows nothing about. How dare she attack my integrity!”

“She wouldn’t give her name,” Dorothy said. “That made me skeptical from the beginning. But we couldn’t just let this go without addressing it. I assure you, we haven’t said anything to anyone else. I do hope this won’t cause you to leave the church.”

Ellen sighed. “No, of course not. I’m just appalled that someone would actually accuse me of something this serious without confronting me first.”

Gordy Jameson lay between the sticky sheets, wishing away the obnoxious buzzing noise that had invaded his slumber. He groped for the alarm clock and brought his hand down on the off button.

He sat up, his feet flat on the floor, and listened to the soothing sound of the surf washing up on the sand. He slipped into his cutoffs, then stumbled barefoot out to the kitchen and turned on the coffeemaker.

He sat at the table and watched the condensation drip from the Bahamas shudders outside the window, wondering if he could go through with his promise to have dinner at Will and Margaret’s.

In five short hours, he would be sitting across the table from some stranger named Pam—a dear friend of Margaret’s and probably a big waste of his time. Could he ever have feelings for another woman? Did he even want to?

Will’s words wouldn’t leave him alone.
Why not let yourself feel that way about someone else? Moving on doesn’t erase the past
.

So why was he already starting with the nervous stomach and the sweaty palms? It was almost enough to make him start
smoking again. He smiled without meaning to, remembering that Jenny had threatened to come back and haunt him if he did.

“Well, sweetheart, I wish you were here. I wish I didn’t have to try to get on with my life. I’ll never love anyone else the way I love you.”

Gordy blinked several times to clear his eyes and wondered if she knew what he was about to do.

Ellen came in the kitchen door and slammed it. She tossed her purse on the countertop and stormed into the living room, almost running headlong into Guy.

“Whoa, where are you going in such a hurry?” he said.

Ellen turned away from him and flopped on the couch. “I am sooooo mad!”

“What happened?”

“Pastor Crawford and Dorothy had a little meeting with me in the inner sanctum. Seems they’ve been told by some busybody neighbor of ours that I’m having an affair.”

“You’ve got to be kidding.” Guy sat in the loveseat facing her. “Who’s the busybody?”

“The woman wouldn’t give her name. Talk about lily-livered. How dare she make such a disgusting accusation and not even identify herself.”

“Wonder where she got an idea like that?” Guy said.

Ellen told him every detail of her conversation with the Crawfords, and then got up and started pacing. “You still think the beach incident with Chief Seevers will be something cute to tell our grandkids someday?”

“Honey, settle down. We both know this is absurd. Unless, of course, you’ve got a thing for ol’ Ned you’re not telling me about.”

Ellen glared at him.

“Just kidding.”

“I don’t find anything humorous about this,” Ellen said. “I don’t want someone casting aspersions on my character. What if your partners hear about it? Once the suspicion is raised, people will always wonder. You can’t erase that.”

“Come on, no one in Tallahassee is going to hear about this.”

“Well, I don’t want to be the subject of gossip—period!”

“Ellen, we’re talking about one cheap-shot busybody. I doubt if anyone even listens to someone like that.”

Ellen lifted her eyebrows. “Pastor Crawford and Dorothy sure did.”

Gordy looked through his closet and selected a Navy-blue golf shirt to go with his khakis. He decided to wear long pants instead of shorts, and navy socks with his topsiders. He laid everything on the bed and then had second thoughts. What if being nervous made him sweat? What if he was too hot in long pants and socks? Would Pam think he was awful if he just wore shorts and topsiders and skipped the socks? He looked down at his hairy legs and decided long pants were best.

He stared at the clothes he had laid out on the bed and raked his hands through his hair. This was exhausting. He was just going to have to be himself—and Pam could take him or leave him. He hung up the long pants and put the socks back in the drawer.

He looked at his watch, then sat on the side of the bed, picked up the phone, and dialed.

“Gordy’s Crab Shack, this is Weezie.”

“Hi, beautiful. Thought I’d check in before I head over to Will’s.”

“You sound nervous as a kid goin’ to his first prom.”

“I feel like it, too. I’ve been goin’ round and round tryin’ to decide what I should wear. Finally decided just to wear what I
always wear. This Pam needs to see the real me. No point in pre-tendin’ to be someone I’m not.”

“Listen, boss, you’re a real prize. Don’t you go sellin’ yourself short. Why, if I wasn’t workin’ for you, I’d be chasin’ after you myself.”

“Yeah, right. That’d turn a few heads.”

“Hey, it’s not your fault you’re not black.”

Gordy smiled and shook his head. “So how’s it goin’?”

“Busy. Just the way I like it. I’ve got Micah crankin’ out orders at top speed and four waitresses runnin’ relays. Honey, I’m in my element.”

“Thanks for handlin’ things. I never worry when you’re in charge.” Gordy looked at his watch. “I need to get dressed and splash on some cologne. If I have a heart attack and don’t make it back, promise me you’ll keep the place runnin’.”

“Oh, you’re gonna do just fine. I’ll be sayin’ a prayer that the Lord either opens this door or slams it shut. Give it a chance, boss. Could be the Lord has handpicked this one just for you.”

Gordy hung up the phone and looked at the picture of Jenny on the dresser.
That
was the woman God had handpicked for him. And he sure didn’t expect that kind of happiness twice in a lifetime.

L
ate Sunday afternoon, Police Chief Will Seevers walked out of the police station and across the street to the employee parking lot and saw FBI Special Agent Bryce Moore getting out of his car.

“Any leads?” Will said.

Bryce raised his eyebrows. “Nothing worth a hoot. I can’t believe we haven’t gotten one decent lead after going public.”

“Maybe RISK
wasn’t
involved.”

“Their fingerprints are all over it. But regardless, they’ve got to be stopped.”

“I’ve been meaning to ask, did you personally interrogate the members you busted in Miami two years ago?”

“Yeah, why?”

“I’m curious what kind of people they were.”

“Fanatics—just like the pinheads who try to stop women from going into abortion clinics. They’re on a mission and don’t care what the law has to say about it.”

“Did their concern for the kids seem real?”

Bryce shut the door to his car. “Doesn’t matter. They should’ve let the system handle it.”

“Kind of hard to do when they don’t trust it. Guess they figured a caring stranger, even a fanatic, was better than an abusive parent.”

Bryce caught his gaze and held it. “Look, Will, nobody disagrees with that. But we can’t have vigilante groups deciding the fate of these kids.”

“Yeah, I know. It’s just easier to think that RISK might be sheltering Sarah Beth than the other chilling possibilities. But if she’s never found, it’s going to be tough for her parents to find closure.”

“At least one of them. I still don’t know if I believe Ross. Look, I need to get to work. You done for the day?”

“Yeah, Margaret’s playing matchmaker with two friends of the family under the guise of
Sunday dinner.”
Will rolled his eyes. “I promised I’d be there to support the male half of this little cupid caper.”