He was going to go back to the ceremony to see if she, in the interim, might have made her way back there, but as he moved toward the front door, he changed his mind. He’d go look for her at the craft shop—just in case. With his body now flushed with adrenaline, he slammed the front door too hard on his way out and the fresh Christmas wreath fell to the floor behind him. The glass ornaments shattered into a million pieces on the porch. That would usually upset Carrie, but right now he’d let her go off at him. He just wanted her safe. He reminded himself to be strong and remain in faith. For a brief moment, hope filled his heart. Perhaps she accidentally got locked inside the shop. It was a stupid thought, he knew, and it didn’t make any sense, but he was desperate to cling to something. He leaped over the three porch steps toward the driveway. This time, he would take his car.
When Grayson neared the alley he almost rammed his car into the bollards at the start of the lane. He left his car running and set his headlights on full.
“Carrie! Are you here?” he called out as he ran up toward the craft shop at the farthest end of the lane. She didn’t answer. With his eyes fixed only on the shop’s door and windows, he didn’t see it. He knocked on the door, jiggled the handle. No answer. Inside, the shop was dark. She wasn’t there. It was only when he turned around, his hands folded in hopelessness and frustration on top of his head, that his eyes finally spotted it.
At first, his legs didn’t want to move. Perhaps his mind hadn’t fully comprehended yet what his eyes were telling him. Then, as if an invisible hand had shoved him forward, he leaped toward it.
In the dark shadows just beyond the light of his car, he found Carrie’s clipboard. He stooped to pick it up. The pages were dirty, bent and torn in places. Something his wife would’ve never let happen.
“Carrie!” his voice echoed through the darkness, his eyes frantically searching every nook and cranny of the lane.
Inside, his body couldn’t fully process the raging emotions that flooded his every cell. Fear, anger, hopelessness, sadness overwhelmed him all at once.
“Carrie!” he yelled once more as he ran back toward his car. But she was nowhere in sight. “Carrie!”
In a desperate attempt—or perhaps it was denial—he dialed her phone once more. Again it went straight to voicemail. From the corner of his eye, trapped beneath one of his car’s wheels, he spotted a black, leather glove. Please don’t let it be hers! Please! he pleaded silently as he hurriedly rolled his car back. But when he went to pick it up and held it in his large hands, he saw the small gold insignia with her initials on the cuff and knew without a shadow of a doubt, that the single glove belonged to his wife.
Lenny pushed his car along the winding coastal road until he passed the sign that welcomed him to Turtle Cove. Unlike the reception he’d received when he arrived in Wilmington, Turtle Cove was very much alive and bursting with energy. Rows and rows of parked cars lined the short winding coastal road as soon as he entered the town. Festive music blasted through the car’s windows. Above his head, the entire street was decorated with arching Christmas scenes which lit up the entire town. In the far distance, he saw illuminated market stalls and heard the loud cheers of people participating in a few festive gaming activities, and a small rowdy bunch of kids in a Santa’s Workshop play area. He had never experienced anything like it.
He decided to park his car and walk to where he saw the large Christmas tree drenched in the most captivating lights and decorations. Around it, a small crowd was gathered singing Christmas carols. As he neared the area he couldn’t help but feel attracted to it, almost mesmerized by the sincerity, the joy, the peace that emanated from it. He caught himself smiling. As if something deep inside his soul had been woken up. Not even when he had the winning hand against Royal Crush—the reigning underground poker champ who never lost—had he felt excitement. It was as if his soul had finally found the missing link to life—community. He stood there, on the outskirts of the gathering, watching, taking it in. When the carolers finally finished, a man spoke of the king of all kings. The one who came to set us free. He spoke of his love for all, and how his entire birth, every last detail of it, was planned by God. How nothing was accidental, even when there was no room available in the inn. All of it fit into God’s plan to bring salvation to the world. Lenny watched the man’s face as he spoke. There was a fire in his eyes. A fire that held the crowd captive. A fire that could never be extinguished. Suddenly Lenny longed to have what he had. Longed to be free. Was this why Carrie chose to live there?
The reminder of his sister jolted his heart into the present. He started scanning the crowd’s faces, slowly moving between the people. But she was nowhere to be found. Fear squeezed at his insides. Fear that he might be too late. And as he was once again reminded of the mess he had made of his life, the man with the fire in his eyes spoke again.
“Amazing how God works stuff out in His time when the worst looks like the best there is. Sometimes it takes a lifetime of bad things to happen to recognize the goodness of God.”
Once again Lenny found himself pinned to the spot, digesting the man’s words. It was only when a loud voice shouted Carrie’s name from the back of the crowd that Lenny snapped out of his daze.
“Carrie! Has anyone seen my wife? Carrie!” Grayson yelled as he pushed between his townsfolk.
Quiet murmurs among the people ensued as he made his way to the front. Begging for anyone to say they’d seen her. But one by one they announced they hadn’t seen her since earlier in the evening. When he finally made it to the front, he whispered into the preacher’s ear, and Lenny watched as the fire in his eyes disappeared for the slightest of moments. Then the tall man who knew his sister turned to pick up a little girl. She looked exactly like Carrie had when she was little. Lenny instantly knew who they were. He pulled out the newspaper clipping he had stuck inside his jacket pocket; darted his eyes back and forth between the photo and the tall man’s face. It was him. Carrie’s husband. And that was their little girl. His niece.
Lenny’s insides churned. At that moment, he knew he was too late. Diaz had gotten to her first. If it wasn’t for the overturned truck he would have made it in time. He cursed under his breath. He had failed to protect his sister.
A young woman took the little girl by the hand and they skipped away. When they were out of earshot, the man spoke into the crowd again. This time with more urgency. He told them that he had found her clipboard and glove. Explained where. He begged the crowd for information. Pleaded for them to give him the answers he sought. But none were forthcoming.
Do something, you fool! Tell him!
With trembling legs, Lenny pushed his way through the crowd towards the man and stopped directly facing him.
“Are you Carrie’s husband?” he said with as much courage as he could muster.
“Yes, have you seen her?” he said, his eyes suddenly full of hope.
“No. But I know what happened to her.”
“What? Where is she?” Grayson dropped down until his eyes were level with Lenny’s.
“Tell me!” he urged when Lenny struggled to find the words.
“I’m Lenny, Leonard actually. I’m Carrie’s brother.”
Grayson went silent and briefly turned to Adam as if he hadn’t heard him correctly.
“You’re Carrie’s brother. The one who went to jail?” Grayson finally dared to ask.
“That was a long time ago, but yes.”
Grayson turned away, his hands on his hips, his nostrils flared.
“What have you done this time, huh? What have you done that landed my wife in trouble?” He suddenly turned and shook Lenny by the shoulders.
“Huh? Answer me! What mess have you made this time?”
“Let’s just take a moment here, Grayson.” Adam pushed himself between the two men.
Grayson stepped back, his hands clasped in his habitual manner on top of his head, pacing back and forth in a small circle.
“Lenny, I’m Adam. Tell u
s what you know, please? Is she okay?”
Chapter Eleven
When Lenny stared into Adam’s eyes, the fire was no longer there. It had been replaced by something else. Something he didn’t recognize. It wasn’t fear, nor anger nor hope.
“Is she okay, Lenny?” Adam repeated his question.
“I don’t know. I don’t even know where she is. But these guys… these guys are dangerous. They know people. Very influential people. That’s all I know.”
“How do you know them and what do they want with Carrie?” Adam asked.
“I got into business with them. I lost something that was theirs and they want it back. They think I took it, but I didn’t. I wouldn’t. I got robbed. Someone drugged me and took it. But these guys, they don’t believe me. So they took Carrie.”
“That’s absurd! Tell me who they are! Who took her?” Grayson lost control and was suddenly in Lenny’s face again. It scared him. He jumped back two feet.
“I don’t know, okay! I’m worried too, you know. She’s my sister.”
“You were nothing but trouble in her life, Leonard,” Grayson said in anger. He instantly regretted his words, but he was too upset to think clearly. Too worried.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean that. Just help us find her before…”
Lenny didn’t want to hear the words any more than Grayson wanted to speak them.
“We need to call the police,” Adam said.
“No! You can’t. They’ll kill her if I involve the police,” Lenny said in a panic. “They’ll kill her if they know I’m here talking about them!”
“Well, we’ve got to do something. We can’t just stand here and wait.” Grayson was visibly upset, his voice echoing above the murmurs of the small crowd of community members who had stayed nearby.
“I suggest we go to your house, just in case they call with a ransom or something,” Adam said.
“There won’t be a ransom. They don’t want your money. They want—”
Lenny stopped, careful not to give too much away.
“What, Leonard? Talk!” Grayson pushed again.
“They want the package.”
“What package?” Adam said.
“Just a package, okay.”
“What’s in the package, Leonard?” Grayson again struggled to maintain his composure.
“I don’t know. I have no idea. I collect. I deliver. They pay me. Except this time someone stabbed me in the neck with something and then stole it out from under my nose.” He yanked down his collar, flexed his neck, and pointed out the injection mark, feeling the need to prove he wasn’t lying.
“Well, how are we supposed to find this package if you don’t even know who took it from you? Or what’s in it!” Grayson continued.
“I don’t know. Not exactly.”
“What does that mean? Not exactly.” It was Adam’s turn to ask and hopefully defuse Grayson’s temper in the process.
“There’s this girl. She’s one of their go-betweens. I think she knows more than she’s letting on. I need to get her to talk.”
In a flash, Grayson had Lenny by the elbow of his bad arm and turned him in the direction of his car.
“You’re hurting me!”
“Where’s this girl?” Grayson pushed, ignoring his plea as he steered him away.
“She’s back in Atlanta. Let go of my arm. Please! I’ll take you there.”
“Grayson, wait!” Adam interjected. “You can’t just up and leave. You have a responsibility, a reputation. Our entire town will want to know what’s going on. Not to mention Maribelle who now needs her father more than ever. People will talk. You need to protect her.”
Adam’s sensible words gave Grayson sufficient reason to stop. He let go of Lenny’s arm, turned away, and rubbed the back of his head.
“I have to do something, Adam,” he finally said in a voice laden with emotion.
“I know, Grayson. But we need to properly think this thing through. We have no idea who or what we’re dealing with here. One wrong move and Carrie could…” He intentionally didn’t finish his sentence.
“We have to call the police. I know people. I’m the blasted mayor for goodness sake!”
“That you cannot do. You can’t call the police. I’ve heard Diaz has connections all over the police force. His clients are some of the most influential people in the entire state of Georgia. Heck, probably the entire country. This man is evil to the core.”
Lenny’s voice trailed. “Besides, he knows who you are.”
“He what? How?” Grayson growled.
Lenny took the crumpled article from his pocket and held it out for Grayson to see.
“This is how he let me know that he was coming here to take Carrie.”
“How did he… Who is this man?” Grayson said, his hand behind his neck again.
“I told you. He knows everyone.”
“You said his name was Diaz.” Adam spoke calmly.
Lenny nodded in reply.
“Is that his first or last name?”
“I only know him as Diaz.”
Grayson stared him down.
“That’s all I know. I swear.”
“What’s that?” Grayson had spotted the red-lettered piece of paper sticking out from underneath Lenny’s cast.
Lenny shuffled uncomfortably and snuck it back in.
“Nothing.”
“It’s something all right. I can tell just by the way you’re reacting,” Grayson pushed.
“It’s nothing, okay? It has nothing to do with any of this.”
“Take it out,” Grayson said in a low, forceful voice.
Lenny ignored him and stood back a few feet.
“Leonard, so help me... You’re hiding something. Take it out!”
Before Lenny could react, Grayson’s large hand folded around his cast and yanked the piece of paper from its hiding place.
Lenny’s face flushed bright red as he watched Grayson scan through the tract. Seconds later he handed it back.
“I’m sorry, Leonard. I don’t know what came over me. Sorry. It’s this thing with Carrie; I’m not thinking clearly. I just feel so helpless.”
Lenny didn’t say anything. He quietly pushed the piece of writing back between his cast and wrist.
“Did you find the answer?” Adam asked Lenny.
“To what?”
“To the question.”
Lenny knew he was referring to the question on the leaflet. He just shook his head.
“Maybe when all this is over I can tell you. If you haven’t found the answer yourself before then, that is.”
Lenny nodded.
“I should go,” he said. “If I leave now I can be there by sunrise.”
Every fiber of Grayson’s being wanted to get in that car with Lenny, but he knew Adam was right. Maribelle needed him. And he needed to be home just in case these people made contact. Or Carrie managed to escape.
He turned to Adam, his eyes urgent and begging. He didn’t have to say anything. Adam knew exactly what he was thinking.
“Oh, I don’t know, Grayson. This is something the police should handle.”
“No, I told you! No cops. We will all end up dead!” Lenny said in a panic.
The two men ignored him and Grayson continued.
“Adam, please. You know people too. If things get out of hand you can call them. Besides, I trust you more than anyone else I know.”
“Who? What are you talking about? Who can you call? I told you. No—”
“Yeah, yeah calm down. We’re not going to call the police. It’s too risky. But Adam here has connections who could help,” Grayson explained.
Lenny snickered.
“You, connections? I thought you were the preacher. No offense but I don’t think the pope’s going to be enough to handle these guys.”
“It’s not the pope, Leonard. Adam’s linked to the military. A covert operations unit, to be exact. If we can’t go to the police they’re our best bet. But we have to do
something, Adam. Every second that passes is a second closer to Carrie’s death. They could be torturing her as we speak!” The more Grayson spoke the more upset he got.
“They’re not going to torture her. They’re trying to get me to track down the package. That’s all they’re interested in. They gave me three days to find it. I came here first to find Carrie, to warn her, to get her to safety. But the stupid truck on the highway… Anyway, it doesn’t matter now. I have to get back to Atlanta, find the girl, and make her talk.”
“I’ll go with him,” Adam announced, “and I’ll make contact with Gabriel and see what he can find out about this Diaz guy. In the meantime, go pick up your little girl and try to get some rest. I’ll keep you posted.”
“Thank you, Adam, thank you! Please bring her home. I can’t go on without her.”
“I know, Grayson. I know.”
Adam had offered to get behind the wheel on their drive back to Atlanta. They decided to take his car instead of Lenny’s, presuming that by now Diaz and his men might have caught wind of the make of Lenny’s car and his whereabouts.
Lenny was asleep the entire time, leaving Adam enough time to make contact with Gabriel—and pray. About thirty miles outside the city, his phone rang. It was Gabriel reporting back on his findings.
“Adam, you might want to sit down for this one,” Gabriel warned.
“I’m still in the car. We’re not far from the city.”
“You’re not going to like what you’re about to hear.”
“Just give it to me straight, Gabriel. What do you know?”
“I’ll start with the easy stuff. His full name is Fernando Diaz. Age thirty-two, Brazilian. He came to the US as a child of illegal immigrants. Both his parents were caught, deported back to Brazil. But somehow they had managed to hide Fernando and his younger brother, Carlos. They were left behind, hidden within the pews of a church. He was twelve at the time. They were in and out of foster homes until they finally ran away. They spent the next few years living on the streets of New York. The brother died in nine-eleven. Wrong place, wrong time type of thing. Diaz worked as a janitor at a leading financial firm on Wall Street. Somehow he got into bed with some pretty influential people.”
Every Good Plan Page 6