Courageous (37 page)

“Do I look stupid?”

Adam wisely withheld his answer.

“Because I don’t believe that for a minute.”

“Your disbelief doesn’t change reality. You are who you are, and God is who He is. And Jesus did what He did for you on the cross. Nothing you think or say will ever change that. You and I don’t get a vote.”

Bronson stared at him like a wolverine at a rabbit. “I pay my own way. I don’t want your religion; it’s for thumb-sucking fools who need a crutch. Do I make myself clear, Corporal?”

Adam returned Bronson’s stare. “You know, Brad, I’d rather be judged a fool by you for the moment than be judged a fool by God forever. And please don’t say you’d rather pay your own way. You may get your wish. It’s called hell.”

“Mitchell, get your mind off that hocus-pocus and do your job. Otherwise while you see visions, some street punk’s gonna blow you to heaven sooner than you intended to go.”

“I do my job fine. But life is more than the job. And if someone does blow me away, I’d rather be blown to heaven than to hell. How about you?”

Adam squared off with Bronson eye to eye, awaiting the next eruption of belittling sarcasm.

Bronson blinked first.

“You know, Mitchell, I don’t agree with you. But I’ll say this for you—you must really believe this nonsense to fight for it when you knew I’d fight back on every point. I always thought you were a wimp. You showed me somethin’ today.”

Bronson started the car.

They pulled very slowly toward the drug house. Bronson flipped on his lights, no siren. Adam watched several people turn and head the opposite direction or walk right past as if they hadn’t planned to stop. He saw someone peek through the blinds.

Bronson spoke over the loudspeaker, the cement mixer coming through loud and clear. “I know who you are, Gerald Ellis. There’s a bed with your name on it at the Georgia State Pen. Flush those drugs. Burn them now while you got a chance. I’m comin’ back for you.”

He finally turned off the lights and headed toward Jackson Street.

“Where we going?” Adam asked.

“I could use one more hot dog from Jimmie’s. Watching drug dealers gives me an appetite.”

At the end of an eight-hour shift that felt like two days in a jail that smelled like sauerkraut, Adam marched straight to Sergeant Murphy’s office.

“Tell me you’re not going to make me Bronson’s partner.”

“That’s not your call, is it?”

“I just spent one day with him. I couldn’t handle five days a week.”

“Maybe he’d grow on you.”

Bronson
grow
? That was a scary thought.

“Please, Sarge.” Adam hoped he didn’t look as pathetic as he sounded.

“Sorry you feel that way, Adam. I’m surprised you have less consideration for Bronson than he has for you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you know those thirty days of paid leave donated to you after Emily died?”

“Yeah?”

“Ten of them came from Brad Bronson.”

Chapter Forty-three

This was one trip Nathan Hayes knew he had to make alone.

He stood with the warm sun on his back. A light breeze rustled the leaves of the oak trees that dotted the serene landscape. The grass beneath his feet smelled freshly mowed. He looked at a card in his hand and read aloud:

“‘My name is Nathan Hayes, and I am your son. I’ve wasted too much time being angry with you, asking why you were never there for me. I’ve always felt that I needed to prove myself to you, wondering if I was worth being loved. I now realize I have a heavenly Father who loves me, even though my earthly father did not, and that has made all the difference. My Father God is more than enough. Because of Him, I have forgiven you. He is your judge, not me. I live with the hope that you gave your life to Him while you still could so that one day I will finally meet you face-to-face.’”

Nathan placed the letter next to a small, neglected tombstone etched with the name Clinton Brown. He walked away and never looked back.

Three days after Adam’s stint in Brad Bronson’s patrol car, Bronson approached him at the end of their shift. Adam noticed something was different. His usual intensity seemed ratcheted down.

The cement mixer cleared his throat. “We found out about Shane Fuller’s middle man.”

“Shane told who he sold the drugs to?”

“No. The buyer confessed. We knew he was a dealer; we just didn’t know he sold stolen police evidence. We already had the guy—bound for jail on another charge.”

“What charge?”

“Vehicular manslaughter. Under the influence. Alcohol and cocaine.”

Adam stared at him. “Are you telling me . . . Shane sold evidence room crack to
Mike Hollis
?”

“Yeah.”

Adam pondered it. “So Shane sold to Hollis, knowing Hollis would deal it on the streets. To kids. But where did Shane pass the dope to Hollis?”

Bronson growled, “You won’t believe it. The All American Fun Park.”

“You’re kidding. I dropped him off there one day when his car was in the shop. It was the same day I drove him to the bank with Emily.”
The day she danced.

Adam smashed fist into palm. “That’s when Mike Hollis saw me in the parking lot at the Fun Park!”

“What are you talking about, Mitchell?”

“Shane brought a bag of stuff that day. Said he’d bought a couple of Bulldogs T-shirts for Tyler. I asked to see them; he didn’t let me. He was taking cocaine to Mike Hollis in my truck with Emily there. Maybe the same stuff Hollis was on when he . . .”

Adam turned and walked away.

After dinner, Adam and Caleb sat in the Holt’s family room while the women remained in the dining room, talking.

“I saw Dylan run past the fire station one day and waved him down. He tells me the two of you run together.”

“It’s been awesome. A great way to spend time with my son. We talk about everything.”

Catherine and Victoria joined them, coffee in hand. A knowing glance passed between Catherine and Caleb. He said, “Catherine and I have something to ask you and a few things to tell you.”

“You planning to move a trailer into our backyard?” Adam asked.

“No, but thanks for the offer,” Caleb said. “We’ll consider it.”

Victoria looked at the guys with mock disapproval. “What did you want to say, Catherine?”

“Well, it’s official—we’re adopting a little girl from China!”

Victoria got up and hugged Catherine. “That’s wonderful news!”

Caleb grinned. “She’s three years old. It’ll probably be another few months before we can fly over and get her.”

Catherine said, “What we want to ask you is this. I hope you don’t mind, but . . . well, how would you feel if we named our little girl . . . Emily?”

Victoria stared at Catherine, then covered her face with both hands.

“I’m sorry,” Catherine said.

Victoria shook her head. “No. I’m just . . . We would be honored, wouldn’t we, Adam?”

Adam looked at Caleb and Catherine. “Yes, we would.”

They celebrated this for several minutes. Then Caleb smiled at Catherine. “Now, we have something else to tell you. We just found out today. Except for family, you’re the first to know.”

“Know what?” Victoria asked.

Catherine smiled. “It turns out we’ll get two children!”

Victoria clapped her hands. “Siblings?”

“We’re just adopting one. The other one is already with us.”

“What does that mean?” Adam asked.

Victoria looked at Catherine. “You’re
pregnant
?”

“Yes!”

Victoria shrieked and threw her arms around Catherine a second time.

Adam laughed. “I haven’t seen Victoria so excited since Dylan finished second in the big race! But I thought you guys couldn’t . . .”

Caleb shrugged. “Apparently the doctors were wrong!”

“Wow.”

“So it’s like we’re having twins. Except one’s from China and three years older! I’m sure glad we didn’t know Catherine would get pregnant.”

“Why?”

“Because we wouldn’t have adopted Emily. God wants us to have both children, and He worked the timing so it would happen.”

Adam nodded. “Sometimes we’re better off not knowing His plan in advance, aren’t we?”

Adam scanned the group in his living room, meeting there because some items of conversation might be too private for Pearly’s. Five men. Shane was gone, but his place had been taken by a figure of immense proportions.

While Adam knew Bronson’s opinion about everything, he’d begun to realize he knew little about the man behind the opinions. For reasons Adam didn’t grasp, Brad Bronson had invited himself to this meeting.

Since their conversation in Bronson’s car outside the drug house, Bronson had made occasional references to his mortality. Though Adam knew Bronson thoroughly disliked everyone, it occurred to him for the first time that maybe the sergeant hadn’t granted himself an exemption. Maybe someplace below the surface—even if
way
below it—he knew that he needed to make some changes before he left this world.

The pervasive scent of a burning tobacco plantation was not Adam’s main concern, though he wondered what Victoria would say about the smell on the couch. Bronson looked around sullenly at the other men while Adam handed him a Bible. Touching it only with his fingertips, he muttered, “I feel like a pork chop at a bar mitzvah.”

“Guys, Brad and I agreed that we’ll do things just like we would if he wasn’t here. He can listen and participate when and if he wants.”

“Good to have you, Sarge.” Nathan extended his hand, as did the others.

Bronson didn’t actually touch anyone, but he nodded, an unusually effusive display of warmth.

“An honor to meet you, sir,” Javier said.

Bronson looked at Javy. His voice boomed, “Are you legal?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good.”

“You don’t have to call him sir, Javy,” Adam said. “Sergeant Bronson will be fine, but actually we’ve said rank doesn’t matter here, so Brad or Bronson is better. That okay with you, Brad?”

“I don’t care if you call me Little Bo Peep. I just hope we’re not gonna sit around and whine about the stork dropping us down the wrong chimney.”

“Well, we normally don’t whine, and we believe in God, not the stork, and God knows His chimneys pretty well. But other than that . . . we’re on the same page.”