Tides of Truth [03] Greater Love (38 page)

Read Tides of Truth [03] Greater Love Online

Authors: Robert Whitlow

Tags: #Mystery, #book

BOOK: Tides of Truth [03] Greater Love
5.36Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

Returning to my apartment, I found the metal bar Mrs. Fairmont had kept wedged under the handle of the French doors before I moved in. I’d never used the bar because it was so ugly and I didn’t want to trip over it in the night. Tonight, I lodged it firmly in place. Now no one could get into my bedroom without shattering the glass. As I got ready for bed, my nervousness remained. I hated how I felt but held on to Zach’s assurance that I would be better within twenty-four hours. Depositing Flip at the foot of my mattress, I crawled under the sheet. Instead of closing my eyes, I stared at the ceiling, much as I did as a little girl who believed keeping my eyes open would actually help me go to sleep faster. The next thing I was aware of was the first hint of dawn as faint light crept into my room.

It took me a couple of seconds to remember the attempted break-in. When I did, I sat up in bed, startling Flip and causing him to bark. I looked to my right. The metal bar guarding the French doors was still in place. The events of the previous evening flooded through my mind, and the violation I’d felt then, while still present, wasn’t as overwhelming.

I got up, dressed in my running clothes, and went upstairs. I wasn’t sure whether I should check on Zach but couldn’t resist peeking into the den. He was sound asleep, his mouth slightly open but not snoring. I smiled. The sleep of the righteous was sound as well as sweet. Zach didn’t move even when Flip trotted into the room and sniffed all the way down the sofa. Zach’s intentions were good, but he wasn’t much of a light-sleeping night watchman.

I walked quietly to the front door and opened it. When I did, the siren for the burglar alarm started blaring. I slammed the door shut. Turning around, I encountered a wild-eyed Zach. He saw me and stopped.

“Sorry,” I said sheepishly. “I guess you fixed the alarm after I went to bed.”

“Yeah,” he replied, rubbing his eyes. “But I don’t know how to turn it off.”

An authoritative voice came through a speaker in the hallway near the foyer.

“Identify yourself.”

“It’s Tami Taylor, Mrs. Fairmont’s caregiver,” I replied. “The security code is 6700. Sorry for the false alarm. I opened the front door without realizing the system was turned on.”

“Let us know if we can be of assistance.”

I turned to Zach. “That’s why Mrs. Fairmont and I never use it. I’ve talked to that guy several times. I’m not sure when he sleeps.”

“It may be a girl pushing a programmed response.” Zach covered his mouth and yawned. “No one sounds that confident this early in the morning. Were you going out for a run without telling me? What if I’d gotten up and you weren’t in the house?”

“Would you have gone to my bedroom to check on me?”

“Yes, if Flip was roaming around the house without you.”

“Let’s turn off the alarm before it wakes the neighbors.”

Zach and I went to the closet. I deactivated the system. The house returned to early morning quiet.

“How did you get the alarm to work?” I asked.

Zach pointed to a button on the side of the unit. “It had to be reset after we entered wrong data.” He yawned again. “Have a nice run.”

“Do you want me to start a pot of coffee?”

Zach rubbed his face that was covered in dark stubble. “Or show me where it is.”

“I’ll do it.”

I went to the kitchen and tried to remember how strong Zach liked his coffee. I made it weak for Mrs. Fairmont but chose a darker mix for Zach. He came in while I was measuring it into the pot. He’d pulled together the stray strands of brown hair that had escaped his ponytail during the night.

“Just press the button, and I’ll take it from there,” he said. “I like it black.”

I placed an empty cup on the counter. “I don’t feel like a very good hostess.”

“You’re perfect.”

The way Zach said the words made me blush. I left the kitchen as the pot began making its first gurgling sounds.

I thought about Jessie several times while running through the historic district, especially when I reached Forsyth Park. I prayed she’d come to her senses and come back soon. The wisdom of Judge Cannon’s decision not to issue a bench warrant made more sense in the light of a new day. The greatest likelihood for Jessie’s return was a change in her own heart and mind, not the remote possibility a police officer would apprehend her.

When I returned to the house, Zach was sitting on the veranda with his back to me and a cup of coffee on the wrought-iron table beside him. Wiping my face with a towel, I poured a glass of water and joined him, sitting on the opposite side of the table.

“Your face is red,” he observed.

“It’s a run, not a jog. Do you want me to go downstairs?”

“No, no. I’m impressed. Please stay. Where did you go?”

I described my route, then said, “I couldn’t get Jessie out of my mind. I know she can take care of herself, but it’s a shame that someone that young is on her own.”

“Did she ever admit her age?”

“No, but I had an amazing plea deal worked out with the assistant district attorney. She ruined everything when she took off.”

He sipped his coffee while I brought him up to date on the case.

“Yeah, the plea bargain sounds like God’s mercy to Jessie,” Zach agreed when I finished. “We should pray that she’ll come back.”

“That’s what I’ve been doing, even during my run this morning.”

Before I could respond, Zach stared out at the garden and started talking. The first few words he spoke left me slightly confused since he wasn’t looking at me. Then, I realized he was praying. I bowed my head and closed my eyes. Zach continued talking in a normal tone of voice, asking God to take care of Jessie and work in her life. When I peeked, Zach still had his eyes open. I quickly closed mine. Keeping my eyes closed helped me to concentrate. Apparently, Zach had a better ability than I did to shut out visual distractions. When he stopped praying, there was a moment of silence before he spoke.

“Tami, do you want to pray?”

We’d never prayed together, except a brief blessing before a meal. There was something intimate, yet pure, about his offer. I overcame my reluctance and stumbled through a very inarticulate request on behalf of Jessie. I paused for a second, but I didn’t end the prayer. Instead, I pushed aside my self-consciousness and let the deep concern and compassion I felt for Jessie rise to the surface. My words became more heartfelt, and the awkwardness caused by Zach’s presence left. I realized how desperately I needed to pray with someone for the teenage girl. A favorable plea bargain in a criminal case wasn’t Jessie’s greatest need. Every fiber of her silently cried out for a deep, healing, transforming touch from the hand of the God who made her. As I continued praying I couldn’t keep my emotions bottled up. My words were interrupted by tears, as I asked the Lord to have mercy on Jessie. Finally, I sniffled and said, “Amen.” I looked over at Zach.

“I’m sorry—”

“Don’t apologize for sharing God’s compassion for Jessie and letting it come out. That’s why you were appointed by Judge Cannon to represent her. It wasn’t Sister Dabney’s will. It was God’s will.”

I put my hand on my heart. “And something tells me I’m not off the case, even if Jessie doesn’t show up in court and I never see her again.”

“All I know is that I was supposed to get us started praying.”

I looked at Zach with renewed respect. “I’ve never prayed like that with a man who wasn’t a member of my family or church.”

“That’s what you and I should have been doing from the beginning. We’ve spent most of our energy trying to figure out if we’re compatible when we should have focused on finding ways to cooperate together in helping others.”

“Like the time in Mr. Callahan’s kitchen,” I said, remembering the miraculous way the Lord touched the older lawyer. “Even though I didn’t do much but watch.”

Zach shook his head. “No, you arranged the meeting and supported what happened with your faith. But I didn’t see that as something you and I could build on. Then, God used you and Vince to reach out to Mrs. Fairmont when she had her stroke last summer.”

“Did that make you jealous?”

“Yes, and mad at myself for feeling that way, which shut me down.”

Zach was revealing layers of himself I’d not seen.

“When you called last night, I decided not to hold back,” he continued. “I hugged you when I saw you were safe, then offered to spend the night to make sure you could rest. This morning when you mentioned Jessie, it wasn’t the time to give advice or tell you what to do. I needed to pray with you about the burden of your heart. If I want something more for us, it’s time for me to enter your world and share it with you.”

The tears welling up in my eyes could not be denied. Two drops rolled down my cheeks. Zach saw but didn’t stop.

“Love isn’t just figuring out how to get along,” he said. “That’s important, but it’s not the goal. I want a love that shares the unselfish passions God puts on our hearts then helps us do everything we can to make them happen. Wouldn’t that be an awesome foundation for a relationship?”

I nodded.

“Would you like to have that with me?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Are you sure? What about your feelings for Vince?”

It was time for my answer, and, in that moment, I knew without a doubt what it should be.

“Vince is like a brother; you’re more than that.”

“How much more? A guy needs a little encouragement.”

“A lot.” I leaned forward. “And I’ve been wrong not to give it. What you said about sharing our God-given passions is exactly what I’ve always wanted with a man but couldn’t put into words. If that piece is in the right place, I believe everything else can follow as it should.”

“Like romance?”

“Yes.”

Zach grinned. “With long motorcycle rides with you behind me on the bike, not crammed into a sidecar.”

It was my turn to smile. “It will take us awhile to get to that point.”

“I can wait.”

The ache of longing in my heart I’d felt for Zach in the past returned with such force that it almost took my breath away. He eyed me curiously.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yes. And if you knew what I feel in my heart for you right now, you’d be greatly encouraged.”

Zach’s smile broadened. “A man can travel a long road with words like that ringing in his ears. I’ve missed you terribly.”

“Me, too,” I managed.

He stretched out his left hand across the table. I took it. When our fingers met, the intensity of the bond between us felt like a betrothal.

“Father, bless the road we’re on,” he prayed, this time with his eyes closed. “May we travel it together. And with you.”

I closed my eyes and let Zach’s words become part of me. We sat in silence for a few moments. He squeezed my hand and released it. I pulled mine back, but part of it remained with him.

“Can I come over early in the morning and spend time like this with you?” he asked.

“Yes, if Mrs. Fairmont doesn’t mind, which she won’t.”

“And drink the great coffee you make?”

“I might try to acquire a taste for it myself. My parents drink coffee together every morning.”

Zach raised his cup. “To the future.”

Z
ACH LEFT, AND
I
WENT DOWNSTAIRS TO GET READY FOR WORK.
I wasn’t sure if my feet touched the floor or not. So much had happened in my heart while we sat on the veranda that my mind was having trouble catching up.

When I checked my hair in the rearview mirror as I neared the office, I noticed a silly grin on my face that didn’t want to go away. Two police cars were in the parking lot. An officer in uniform and another man in a white shirt and tie were standing beside the front door. Surprised that the police were following up so quickly on the attempted break-in, I parked beside one of the police vehicles.

Then, when I got out, I could see the glass in the upper half of the front door had been shattered. The man in the shirt and tie turned around as I walked up.

21

“I’
M
T
AMI
T
AYLOR, ONE OF THE ATTORNEYS.”

“Al Houghton. I’m an investigator with the police department,” the man replied.

There were brown stains on the investigator’s shirt. I remembered Maggie’s comment that Houghton liked to chew tobacco.

“I read the report prepared by the officers who responded to your 911 call,” Houghton continued. “It looks like whoever wanted to break in while you were here came back later to finish the job.”

On his second attempt the thief didn’t attempt to finesse his way into the building. Instead, he destroyed the glass and reached inside to unlock the dead bolt.

“Have you called Maggie Smith?” I asked.

“She’s on her way,” Houghton said. “One of the other tenants in the building saw the glass and called our office.”

“Have you been inside?”

“Just a quick walk-through to make sure no one was in there. We didn’t see any obvious damage except to the door, but we’d like to go through the offices carefully once Maggie gets here.”

I shuddered at the thought that someone could have been lurking in the office when one of us arrived. Maggie sped into the parking lot and quickly joined us.

“Sorry about last night,” she said to me. “I didn’t get your message until late. I know that was scary, and I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Thanks.”

“Ready to do an inspection?” Houghton asked her.

I followed Maggie and the two officers into the building. A couple of files in Shannon’s area had been knocked to the floor. Her computer wasn’t disturbed. Maggie’s office appeared untouched.

My space across the hall had been ransacked, every drawer emptied, all the files dumped onto the floor, the contents in a heap.

“Your computer is gone,” Maggie said as we surveyed the damage.

Sure enough, my new laptop, along with its power cord, wasn’t there.

“Did you back up your files yesterday?” Maggie asked.

I reached in my purse and took out my flash drive.

“Yes, it’s all on here.”

“The other office is clean,” the uniformed officer said from the doorway.

Other books

We Put the Baby in Sitter by Cassandra Zara
The Forgotten Land by Keith McArdle
Desert Boys by Chris McCormick
Joint Task Force #2: America by David E. Meadows
The Santinis: Leonardo, Book 1 by Melissa Schroeder
The Grave Tattoo by Val McDermid
Showdown in Crittertown by Justine Fontes
Lanced: The Shaming of Lance Armstrong by David Walsh, Paul Kimmage, John Follain, Alex Butler