by Kelly Irvin
“Where are you taking him?” Eli moved after them. He didn’t want this to be the last time he saw Pops. Not like this.
“The medical center on Saunders Road.”
“I’m going with you.” Tears running down her wrinkled face, Mamá looked back, but her hand stayed on Pops’ shoulder. “You stay here, Hijo, find out what happened. Who did this? You find them.”
She was right. He would find out and they would pay.
He released Gabby’s hand. “Go back to the house. Get Mamá’s car and her purse. Go to the hospital. Keep me posted. I’ll get there as fast as I can.”
“It’ll be okay.” Her gaze held his. “He’ll be okay.”
“Don’t let anyone close to her. Watch your back.”
“They’ll wait to see if we got the message before they try again.”
“All the same, be safe.”
“You too.”
As soon as the ambulance pulled away, he surveyed the scene. The firefighters had the blaze under control. Thick smoke continued to roll from broken stained-glass windows. Water poured from the open doors to the narthex. The smell of burning drywall, rubber, and plastic permeated the air. Sirens screaming, ambulances continued to race from the parking lot.
Media units rolled in. The vultures had arrived. So much for the news conference. The media from out of town would get a two-for-one. They would dance in the streets over this one. He perused the arriving vehicles. Deacon rolled from his aunt’s Infiniti. Chris Matthews’s Honda screeched to a halt next to a CBS Southwest satellite truck.
All hands on deck for a story that now involved Eli’s father.
Crime scene tape sagged and danced in the breeze along the edges of the parking lot. Uniformed officers held back the media, and the rubberneckers crowded behind it.
Deacon waved both arms. He cupped his hands around his mouth. “Eli, over here.”
Eli shook his head and turned his back.
His phone chirped. Deacon. “I can’t talk to you right now.”
“Is your dad all right?”
“He was inside. They took him to the hospital. Gabs is with him.”
“I’m so sorry, man.”
“I gotta go.”
“What do you know?”
“Later.” He disconnected. Blood pulsed in his ears. Wind blew a fine, cooling spray of water from the hoses across his face. He took a deep breath and let it out. Time to be a cop, not a son.
He jogged over to a police officer talking to a firefighter. Both held radios in their hands as they stood outside a ladder truck. The officer’s name tag read Jose Gomez. “Any fatalities? How many injured?”
“Who are you?”
Eli explained and flashed his badge.
“Most of the damage is in the sanctuary. It’s virtually destroyed.” Gomez shook his head. “By the grace of God, so to speak, most of the occupants were in the education wing in a meeting.”
The firefighter took over. “Smoke inhalation, shock, some burns that are still being assessed. Eight injured, but none severely. Except your father. He must’ve been in the foyer when the incident occurred.”
Education wing was a grandiose name for a few meeting rooms down the hall from the sanctuary. Hitting the sanctuary had been intentional. Not to keep injuries low, but for symbolic purposes. Hit where it hurt most. A house of God. His father’s house. “We need to—”
“You need to stand down.” Gomez bristled. “You may be a San Antonio cop, but you’re out of your jurisdiction and this is personal to you. Let the Feds do their thing.”
Eli didn’t contradict him. It wasn’t worth his breath. He would do what he had to do. “Who’s coming?”
“ATF, ICE. HSI, FBI, all of them have been notified. It’s about to be alphabet soup here.”
“They’re worried it’s an act of domestic terrorism?”
“Or a hate crime. Firebombing a church usually is.”
Not in this case. In this case it was a warning to back off. “What do the witnesses say?”
“The only people outside were a couple of kids arriving for a youth meeting and the gardener. He was so excited it was hard to make heads or tails out of it.”
“I’ll talk to him.”
“Not officially, you won’t. You know him?”
“His dad worked here for thirty years, until he retired last year. Johnnie used to come with him when we were kids.”
They’d played cops and robbers, war, and every other game that had nothing to do with what went on in church.
“Apparently, he was mowing out front when a dark-blue or black Beamer pulled up in the handicapped parking space closest to the building. A guy wearing a black bandana over his mouth and nose ran up to the door. He tossed in a couple of Molotov cocktails and ran out. Came and went in a matter of seconds. Arson is on the scene now.”
“Molotov cocktails. Old school.”
The first notes of Aretha Franklin’s “Respect” emanated from his phone. Gabs. His choices had been either that or “Chain of Fools.” Eli excused himself and walked toward the building, away from the inquiring eyes of the media, now jammed into the parking lot.
“He’s a tough old bird.” She spoke without preamble. “They upped the fluids, started him on antibiotics and oxygen, and dressed his wounds. His windpipe is swelling. They’ll keep him intubated and start medications to fight the swelling and treat the damage to his lungs. The doctor said they’ll keep him under observation for at least forty-eight hours. It takes that long for the burns to fully develop so they can tell how bad they are. And the swelling could get worse. His blood pressure is through the roof. It also looks like he hit his head when he fell, and he has a couple of broken fingers.”
Gabby knew better than to sugarcoat the news for him. Eli took a moment to digest the litany of injuries and their consequences. “Is he conscious?”
“He was in and out, but they gave him painkillers.” Her tone uncertain, she paused for a second. “I didn’t know if you’d want me questioning him, but I gave him a notebook and a pen. I asked him if he saw anything. He wrote down that he was walking out of his office. He didn’t see the perpetrator.”
“Good. We don’t need him to be a witness they think can identify someone.”
“He’s out now. Your mom’s sitting with him.”
“How is she?”
“Alternating between praying and comforting everyone else.”
“I can’t believe he had a heart attack, and she didn’t bother to tell me.”
“Knowing them, they didn’t want to worry their kids.”
“Now I’ll worry about what else is going on that they haven’t told us.” Eli drew a long breath. This wasn’t the time for this. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“What have you learned?”
Eli gave her a quick summation.
“Cowards. Hurting an eighty-six-year-old preacher. Those people get a one-way ticket to hell.” Her words needed no response. Anybody with a moral bone in his body would feel the same way. “Have you told them anything?”
“No. I don’t know who to trust.” He let his own frustration seep through the statement. “Rincon may not be on the take, but Teeter was convinced someone was.”
Her silence told him she agreed. “We’re back to square one. If Donovan isn’t the facilitator, who is?” The million-dollar question. “Get Jensen involved.”
“How do you know we can trust him?”
“We have to trust one person down here.” Her breathing was light and rapid. He could almost hear the wheels turning in her finely tuned brain. “What about Deacon and Chris Matthews?”
“I meant who carries a gun and knows how to use it.”
“They know the players. They know their way around. Use them as guides, if nothing else.”
“They’re both here. All the media outlets that came to town for the news conference are here instead. I’ll talk to Deacon when I can.”
A series of black SUVs with tinted wi
ndows rolled up to the crime scene tape. A window rolled down. A second later the patrol officer moved the tape and the cars filed in.
“I gotta go. The cavalry’s here.”
“Don’t step on toes and don’t do anything without me.”
She could not be allowed to participate in what came next. A bunch of cartel-backed thugs were gunning for her. “Meet me at the house. We’ll regroup and go from there.”
Chapter 32
Hospitals were treacherous places. Hope and despair, living and dying, miracles and agony, lived side by side in these sterile rooms. What’s behind door number one? Would door number two yield better results? Taking a deep, cleansing breath, Gabriella ducked past the curtain drawn around Xavier’s bed and forced a smile.
Virginia’s face was placid. She sat as close to her husband’s bed as possible. She kept rearranging his sheets and patting his hand in the spot where no dressings clung and no IVs were connected. Her voice murmured in a continuous singsong of prayer mixed with encouraging words of affection. “You’ll be fine, Dios te ama. You’re fine. By the grace of God, you’re here. You’re fine. I love you, mi amor. Sleep. Sleep.”
“How is he?”
Virginia looked up. Her eyes were clear and her smile quick. “Peaceful, finally. He was fighting the tube until they sedated him. I talked to Naomi. She’ll go to the house to pick up another Bible for him before she comes up here. It’ll soothe him when he does wake up. I imagine the one he had burned. He’s had that Bible since before we were married.” Virginia sighed, but her tone held no sadness. “He has at least twenty others, every translation, various languages, and it can be replaced a hundred times over. He can’t.”
“And you?” Gabriella offered the coffee. “How are you managing?”
“God is good. In everything He works for our good. My Xavier will be around to compliment my cooking and remind me to turn off the stove for many years to come.” She stood. “He’ll sleep for a while. I need to stretch my legs.”
Gabriella joined her, glad for the silence after the horrific noise of fire trucks, ambulances, ER drama, and the terrifying realization that Xavier had been in the crosshairs of criminals who would stop at nothing to protect their lucrative gun-smuggling operation.
“You and Eli know who did this.” For the first time Virginia’s voice had an edge. “This is about your brother.”
Declarative sentences. Not questions.
“We’re working on it.”
“Eli will bring these people to justice.”
Again, her voice held no doubt.
He would. Whether it would be in time to save Jake remained agonizingly unknown. They had to figure this out. Now. Before any more innocent people were hurt or killed. “He’s working on it right now.”
Virginia stopped at the windows at the end of the hallway. They overlooked the parking lot that surrounded the building in a never-ending circle. In the distance a small, obviously man-made pond sparkled in the late-afternoon sun under U.S. and Mexican flags flapping in the wind.
“He needs you.”
Virginia’s expression told Gabriella the woman wasn’t talking about the investigation. “Eli is a one-man band. He’s never needed anyone.”
“There’s something I want to tell you.” Virginia set the coffee cup on the ledge. She seemed to contemplate the view with its blue sky and merciless sun. “I’ve wanted to tell you for a long time. I’ve never shared this with anyone, least of all Elijah.”
The use of Eli’s full name spoke of the importance of this admission.
“If you haven’t told Eli, are you sure you want to tell me?”
“When you’ve heard my story, you’ll understand why I’m telling you first.” She motioned toward a bench that would afford them a view of that sky with a lone cumulus cloud floating in the distance. “I’d rather you allow me to tell Elijah when Xavier is well enough to give his approval.”
It didn’t matter what the story was. It belonged to Virginia and, apparently, Xavier. Gabriella joined Virginia on the bench. “Of course.”
“When I was fifty years old, I still worked at the church as the secretary, receptionist, and jill-of-all-trades.” She plucked at mud and bits of weeds that marred the knees of her tan capris. “I spent almost as much time there as Xavier did. With the ladies’ potlucks and the craft group and working on the bulletin and the newsletter. I filled up my days, yet I was restless. The kids were in school. They had their own activities. I joined a Thursday night Bible study, mostly to fill time when Xavier was working. He was always working, but how can a wife complain when her husband is working for the Lord?”
Her voice faltered over the last few words. They both had worked for the Lord. Far more than Gabriella had done. In recent years, she’d let teaching fourth-grade Sunday school and helping with the food pantry fall by the wayside, replaced by excuses and the restaurant. “A good and faithful servant.”
Virginia snorted and shook her head. “If only it were so. A member of our church, a lay leader, taught the study of Acts. It was in the spring, after my birthday.”
Somehow those words had importance to her. Thirty had been a big birthday for Gabriella. At that time she’d been embarking on a new relationship and opening a restaurant. Big plans. Fifty was another benchmark birthday that lacked luster now as the future seemed to hold no promise of either.
“He was a good teacher. Passionate. He had a deep voice that mesmerized when he read the Scripture. He brought the stories alive.” Virginia bowed her head. “I found myself staying after. I told myself it was to tidy the room and make sure the door was locked, but it was to talk to him.”
“He was tall and dark haired with gorgeous dark eyes and a kindness about him that touched me. No rough edges. No critical eye. No tedious discussion of minute detail.”
Gabriella wiggled. She fixed her gaze on the blue sky. More cumulus clouds had gathered with the earlier one. They covered the sun.
“Xavier taught his own class on Thursday nights. Often they went out for coffee after. Sometimes he met with the AA folks and prayed with them. He never returned home before ten or eleven o’clock—”
“Are you sure you want to tell me this?” Heat burned Gabriella’s cheeks. God, whisk me away from here, to any place but here. She’s Eli’s mother. “It sounds very personal.”
“Believe me. It’s something I would rather not share, but God calls us to witness, to help others on their journeys. I’m praying you’ll learn from my mistakes, even as you forgive them.”
“Believe me. I would never judge—”
“I had an affair with this man.”
“Virginia—”
“It didn’t last long. I was overcome with guilt, and so was he. It was as if the fire was quenched the second we realized what we’d done. He left the church immediately. I struggled with whether to tell Xavier. I prayed and I prayed. Then I got my answer.” Her voice broke.
The silence in the pause strummed in Gabriella’s ears. Virginia’s pain kept time with her shame. “Virginia, please.”
“I was pregnant. Fifty years old and pregnant. I knew it was possible, but it seemed so improbable. A change-of-life baby.”
“Eli.”
“Yes. Xavier isn’t Eli’s father.”
Sunny Mendez had said Eli looked nothing like Xavier. But that was often the case. A throwback to another generation. Maybe he looked like Virginia’s father. Or her brothers. It hadn’t meant anything. But now it did. “What did you do?”
“The only thing I could. I went to Xavier and confessed I’d broken my vows. I begged forgiveness. He cried with me. He ministered to me like the pastor he is. He never once threw my sin in my face. He reminded me that every child is a gift from God, no matter the timing or the genesis.
“He is a good man.” Virginia’s aim was unerring, true, and the quiver of the arrow as it passed through skin directly into Gabriella’s heart hurt her ears. She’d done nothing but throw Eli’s conduct in his face. S
he’d allowed it to come between her and the man she claimed to love. “Eli could never understand why Xavier set the standards so high for him. But it was because he does the same for himself.
“Eli is younger than his brothers and sister. He doesn’t remember that Xavier was just as demanding and strict with them. He was the last one at the table as he grew up, so it felt directed at him. It was. Xavier loves him. Eli is his son in every way that counts. He would never visit the sin of the mother on her child.”
“He’s an incredible man. A great husband and father.”
“He would tell you himself he only does what God expects him to do. Jesus died for our sins. God’s grace and mercy are never ending.” Virginia clasped Gabriella’s hand in hers. It was warm, and her skin like soft crepe paper. “Let he who is without sin cast the first stone. I know what you think Elijah did. He says no, but regardless, you risk losing so much by not forgiving him. Your soul is filled with bitterness. You are made less by your unforgiveness. In God’s eyes, you fall short. Elijah loves you. You love him. Life is like a spring breeze. It rustles the leaves in the trees. Then it’s still. It’s gone.”
“I don’t know why it’s so hard for me to forgive him.”
“Because your mother cheated on your father and you still haven’t forgiven her.”
An observation so sharp it drew blood. No amount of time softened the pain every time the memories broke through Gabriella’s emotional blockade. How could her mom do that to a man as kind, smart, funny, and handsome as her dad? The question she’d hurled at her mom the day it all came out. She shoved the memories back in their box. “Eli told you?”
“It’s his theory.”
Gabriella couldn’t contain a bitter laugh. “He would try to make this about me.”
“No, he wants to understand. He’s never tried this hard with another woman, but he believes you are worth it.” Virginia’s hand tightened on Gabriella’s. “And I know he is worth it.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“I wonder if I would have been as forgiving if the situation had been reversed.” Virginia shook her head. “Would I have been as forgiving as Xavier? Or would I be like you?”