Deadly Intent
Deadly Intent
Lillian Duncan
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
Deadly Intent
COPYRIGHT 2015 by Lillian Duncan
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or Pelican Ventures, LLC except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
eBook editions are licensed for your personal enjoyment only. eBooks may not be re-sold, copied or given away to other people. If you would like to share an eBook edition, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with.
Contact Information: [email protected]
All scripture quotations, unless otherwise indicated, are taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version
(R),
NIV
(R),
Copyright 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.™ Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved worldwide. www.zondervan.com
Cover Art by
Nicola Martinez
Harbourlight Books, a division of Pelican Ventures, LLC
www.pelicanbookgroup.com
PO Box 1738 *Aztec, NM * 87410
Harbourlight Books sail and mast logo is a trademark of Pelican Ventures, LLC
Publishing History
First Harbourlight Edition, 2015
Electronic Edition ISBN 9781611164794
Published in the United States of America
Dedication
This and all I do is for God’s glory.
To Michelle Knight, Amanda Berry, and Gina DeJesus. May each of you write a happy ending for your own story and may God bless you.
And as always, this story wouldn't have been written without the love, encouragement, and support from my wonderful husband, Ronny.
About the Author
Lillian Duncan writes stories of faith mingled with murder & mayhem!
Lillian is a multi-published writer with several Amazon bestsellers, including
The Christmas Stalking
and
Betrayed
. Lillian writes the types of books she loves to read—fast-paced suspense with a touch or two of romance that demonstrates God’s love for all of us.
Whether as an educator, a writer, or a speech pathologist, she believes in the power of words to transform lives, especially God’s Word.
To learn more about Lillian and her books, visit: www.lillianduncan.net. Tiaras & Tennis Shoes is her personal blog at www.lillian-duncan.com.
1
“No, you can’t have him.” She clasped the boy closer, her arms tightening around her son. This wasn’t fair. She had so little. All she wanted was her child. She wouldn’t let him take her son.
The man looked down with what seemed to be compassion in his eyes, though she knew it wasn’t real. “Sorry, it has to be done. The sooner, the better.” His voice was soft, almost kind. “We can’t keep him any longer. He’s just too disruptive. It’s not going to work out.”
Mustering all her courage, she glared at the boy’s father. “No. I won’t let you take him. I’ll make him be good. Please, give me another chance. I’ll make him listen. He’ll be good. I promise.”
He shook his head. “It’s not your fault. Something’s wrong with him. He’s too much to handle.” His arms reached out and grabbed the boy. The child yelled and struggled to stay with his mother. His arms clung to her neck as she clutched him.
In spite of her best efforts, the man pulled her son from her grip. No words came from the boy, only a shrill keening sound—like that of a wounded animal.
She reached up and put her hands on each of his precious cheeks. He stopped screaming as her lips pressed against his for a moment. “Remember, I love you, baby. I love you. I’m so sorry.” Her heart broke as the boy’s father dragged him across the room. “Give him back to me.” How much more could she bear?
The wordless screaming continued.
The father opened the door.
Heartbroken, she crumpled to the floor, unable to follow them.
The man closed the door without another word.
Too soon, her son’s screams faded.
And then all she had was a memory.
2
She was going to die. Maven Morris knew it absolutely. If she had to jog one more step, she’d die. She stopped and bent over, gasping for air.
With no shade trees in this part of the park, the afternoon sun beat down. They should have gone in the morning as Lizzie suggested, but Maven hadn’t wanted to go then. She wasn’t a morning person. Now she regretted her decision.
Lizzie turned towards her with a grin, barely perspiring, obviously awaiting a reply to her idea.
“Are you kidding me? I can’t do that.” Maven was shocked.
“Why not?”
How did Lizzie manage to look good even when they were jogging? Lizzie was fresh and fashionable in her flowered capris and hot pink T-shirt.
“Of course you can. I know you’re the right person for this little boy. You have to believe me. As soon as I saw him, I knew the two of you belonged together. For now—until we find his family.”
Maven twisted her back and then did a few leg stretches. “I could never do that. Be a foster parent. That’s crazy. And besides why would you give him back to his family? They deserted him.”
“Well first, it’s the rule. And second, we really don’t know that to be true. We can’t assume facts not in evidence.”
“I suppose that makes sense, sort of.” Maven was not really convinced of the wisdom of giving a child back to the family who abandoned him.
Lizzie did a few stretches. “I know you can do it, Maven. I have faith in you even if you don’t.”
Lizzie’s voice held that tone that so often irritated Maven—smug and sure of herself. Lizzie didn’t suffer from uncertainty. Once she had an idea, she was always sure it was the exact right thing to do—even when it wasn’t. Like this running thing.
Maven had rashly promised to run for the past three months with Lizzie. Her legs had cramped so badly at first, she’d had to spend a lot of time in a tub soaking them afterwards. Of course, Maven had lost ten pounds, but she still couldn’t say she enjoyed it. At least her muscles weren’t weak and shaky any longer.
Lizzie smiled and started running again.
Maven raised her voice as she increased her own speed. “I am not mom material, you know that. I didn’t have any kids, remember? I wouldn’t have any idea what to do. There’s no way I can foster a child, especially one with special needs. Even temporarily.”
Lizzie sprinted ahead, but then slowed to wait for Maven to catch up. “See what I mean? You have no faith in yourself. You’ve told me hundreds of times that you consider yourself a teacher first and a speech pathologist second, right?” Lizzie ran her fingers through her blonde hair, her blue eyes bright with hope.
“What does that have to do with anything?” Maven wiped the sweat from her face.
“Everything.” Lizzie’s hands made an all-encompassing motion. “Teachers don’t just teach, they take care of their students. You know that. And that means you can take care of this child, but if you don’t want to, I can understand. I’m not going to lie to you, he’s a difficult child—a very difficult child.”
Maven felt the tug on her heart.
Was that God sending her a message?
She doubted it. Being a mother, even temporarily, terrified her. Of course, there’d been a time when she thought she’d die if she didn’t have a child. But God had other plans for her. “I’m sorry. I just can’t do it. The condo’s not set up for a child. There’s no way I could manage.” She jogged the last few steps to catch up with Lizzie. “I really am sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it. I just thought since you aren’t working right now, it would be a good fit for both of you. Keep walking—fast.”
Maven moved her hand to her mouth. The reason she wasn’t working was Bell’s palsy, which had left the left side of her face and mouth partially paralyzed. “I know I’m not working now, but that could change. See, my smile is almost normal again. The problem is, very little lip movement.”
Her school board had insisted Maven take a temporary medical leave. Her recovery had been slow—too slow, and it seemed as if the medical leave might become permanent. After all, who wanted a speech pathologist with partially-paralyzed facial muscles?
“Be patient. It took a long time for your recovery to start. It could still happen. I just thought fostering this child would give you something to do now that you’re not working with Ella any longer. By the way, how is Ella?”
“She’s going back to school in the fall.”
“Wow, that is amazing. What’s she studying?”
“She changed her major to speech pathology.”
“Double wow!” Lizzie sped up. “OK, almost time to sprint.”
“No sprint. I’m tired.”
“But you look marvelous, dahling.”
Maven laughed.
“Don’t worry about not wanting to foster the little boy. I knew it was a long shot. But I really thought you were the best person for this child. He needs someone special. And I don’t know anyone more special than you.” Lizzie grinned as she started jogging.
Maven shook her head as she sped up. “Wow, that’s a really good line. You must have been saving it for a long time.”
“Not true. I am being completely sincere. You are special and you are the perfect person to take care of this child. When I saw the poor thing, I thought of you immediately. But it’s a big commitment, so I understand. Really I do. Faster.” Her jog became a run.
Maven forced herself to keep up. “Because I’m so special or because I’m a speech pathologist?”
“Both. But no reason to feel guilty. I don’t blame you, but I had to ask.”
“The answer is no to being his foster mother, but if you want me to look at him as a speech pathologist, I’d be happy to.”
“Well, I’ll take what I can get, but I can’t pay you. No money in the budget.”
Money wasn’t much of an issue. Between her forced medical disability, the bonus from the Deckers, and the occasional private client, her finances were in good shape. “Not a problem. I’ll do it pro bono. So, tell me about him.” She still had to half-jog to keep up with Lizzie’s power walking speed.
“That’s just it. We know nothing about him. Not even his name. He’s not talking. He might be deaf or autistic or something else. Mostly he just sits, and he screams if anyone goes near him or tries to touch him.”
“That definitely could be autism. What do you know about him?”
“He was found in the park, naked and dirty. Not a clue to his identity. This park, actually. Over by the playground. He looks to be about three or four, but we’re not sure. The doctors say he’s malnourished, so it’s possible he could be a few years older. It’s hard to know at this point since he won’t talk.”
“Nobody’s reported him missing?”
“They’ve checked all the missing children’s databases and the FBI’s, of course. He doesn’t fit any missing child’s reports. We don’t know where he came from.”
“Well, everyone belongs somewhere.”
Maven stopped to catch her breath. “How could somebody do that to a child?”
“It’s an evil world, my friend, an evil world.”
3
The next morning Maven stood in an observation room staring at the child on the other side of the mirror.
He’d arranged toys in a circle and now sat in the middle of the circle. He no longer played with them, touched them, or even looked at them. It was as if they didn’t exist once he’d arranged his circle. The objective seemed to be to build a barrier between himself and the rest of the world.
