True Light

by Terri Blackstock

Mark was holding his sling close to his body, cradling the cast in his other hand. “Arm hurt?” Doug asked, even though he knew Mark wouldn’t tell him if it did.

  “Not bad.” Mark shook his head. “I can’t believe we’re going back empty-handed.”

  “Me too. I thought we had them.”

  The swelling on Mark’s forehead had gone down around his stitches, leaving a purple bruise the width of a baseball bat. Anger rippled through Doug as that scene came back to him. Not many men could have survived that kind of an attack, but Mark had defended himself valiantly.

  Still, it wasn’t Mark’s physical strength that impressed Doug so much. It was his spiritual strength. His acts of forgiveness yesterday had put Doug to shame. It was the stuff sermons were made of. Yet he could still see the pain in Mark’s weary eyes.

  Doug’s conversation this morning with Deni ran through his mind, and later, when he and Mark had discussed it before visiting Grace, he knew he’d come across as angry. Selfishly, he’d tried to put a guilt trip on Mark for encouraging Deni to take the job. But his concerns went deeper than the distance to D.C. He was concerned for his daughter’s future.

  And he was also concerned for Mark’s.

  Knowing the guys up front couldn’t hear him, he said, “Mark, about Deni . . .”

  He saw the tension on Mark’s face. “Yeah?”

  “I just want you to understand. A year ago, when Deni told me she was going to be marrying a lawyer who worked in a senate office, I was excited and proud — at first. I thought, great, she’ll have a wonderful, prosperous, exciting life. I loved the whole idea of it. And then I met Craig.”

  Mark couldn’t help chuckling. “He was a nice enough guy.”

  “He was arrogant and proud, and he seemed a little bit narcissistic to me. And I started to worry about my daughter and her future.” He shifted in the seat. “And then after the Pulses, when he came here, I realized that if she married him, he would bring her nothing but misery. That’s why I did everything I could to talk her out of going through with it. So did Kay.”

  He had Mark’s full attention now.

  “The thing is, Deni was smart enough to see it too. And when she broke up with him at the train station that day, I realized that she had the guts and the maturity to do the right thing. She had changed, and a high life in Washington with Craig just wasn’t what she really wanted.”

  “How do you know?” Mark asked. “She’s stuck here, really. There aren’t that many options. Why should she hold back when her life’s dream is being dangled in front of her? She says she doesn’t want that anymore, but I find that hard to believe.” He leaned his head back and raked his hair. “I don’t want her to go, Doug, but who am I to stand in the way if this is a God-given opportunity?”

  Doug shook his head. “Opportunity for what? Mark, it’s not just a question of being selfless and letting her fly. It’s about letting her be lured into a life that will bring her heartache and emptiness.”

  The moment the words were out, Doug knew he’d laid it on too thick. He sounded like a desperate father, afraid to let his daughter grow up.

  “I think you’re selling Deni short,” Mark said. “I think she’s smarter than that.” Mark’s eyes grew shiny with unshed tears, and he rubbed his mouth. “She’s going to follow God’s guiding, and do what he leads her to do. Whether that’s with me, or someone better, I want her to have God’s best for her life.”

  “And so do I,” Doug said. “But Mark, I don’t think there is anyone better.”

  Mark looked jolted by the declaration. He blinked back the mist in his eyes and swallowed hard. “Wow. I appreciate that.”

  “No, I appreciate it.” Doug turned around in the seat to fully face him. His eyes were intense as he locked into Mark’s gaze. “I might as well just lay this out on the table, Mark. You’re the kind of man I want for my daughter. A man I would consider it an honor to call my son.”

  Mark’s pale eyes locked with his, and his forehead rippled as he let those words sink in. He opened his mouth to speak, but couldn’t. Finally, he got the words out. “That means a lot to me.”

  Doug smiled, reached back and gripped Mark’s good arm, then turned back around in his seat.

  SIXTY

  “GREAT,” WHEATON MUTTERED AS THEY PULLED INTO THE parking lot at the sheriff’s department. “Jimmy Scarbrough. Just what I need.”

  Mark saw Jimmy sitting on the steps, and his heart went out to the kid.

  As they all got out of the van, Wheaton called out, “Jimmy, I told you not to come back here. Does your mother know where you are?”

  Jimmy got to his feet, ignoring the question. “I heard you arrested Dante Miller. I want to see him.”

  Wheaton took in a deep breath, letting it out in a long sigh. “Jimmy, you know I’m not gonna let you in that jail.”

  “But why not? My dad is your boss! Those men in there are volunteers. They have no right to keep me out of my own father’s station.”

  Mark was glad the men holding down the fort had done their job, but he worried what it was doing to the boy. “How’s your dad?” he asked.

  Jimmy turned his troubled, angry eyes to Mark. “I think he’s gonna live, but he’s in a coma right now. They made him that way, with medication.”

  “A medically induced coma?” Mark asked. “Did they say for how long?”

  “No, they don’t tell me much.”

  That was too bad. Details might be just what Jimmy needed.

  “Well, I’m sure Ralph’s in good hands.” Wheaton trudged up the steps to the front door.

  Jimmy’s eyes followed him. “Deputy Wheaton, please let me come in. I don’t want to do anything to him. I just want to see what he looks like.”

  Wheaton turned back. “Why, Jimmy? How will that help you?”

  “I don’t know.” The corners of his mouth trembled. “But it will.”

  Mark set his hand on Jimmy’s shoulder. Knowing he was going out on a limb, he said, “I’ll walk in with him, Deputy.”

  Jimmy’s hopeful eyes looked up at Mark.

  “I’ll go with them,” Doug said.

  Wheaton stared at the boy, considering it for several seconds. Mark braced himself for Wheaton’s answer. Finally, he said, “All right, Jimmy. You let Doug and Mark walk you in there.” He looked up at the two of them. “You boys need to frisk him, make sure he isn’t trying to pull some heroic stunt.”

  “Frisk me?” Jimmy grunted. “What do you think I’m gonna do?”

  “The same thing you intended to do when you showed up at his apartment,” Wheaton reminded him.

  Jimmy looked down. “Okay, fine.”

  Mark took him inside. In the kitchen, he and Doug searched him. He wasn’t carrying anything. “All right, we’ll walk you in there,” Mark said. “He’s in the back cell, alone.”

  Jimmy’s brows came together. The kid was nervous, despite how tough he tried to appear.

  “Jimmy,” Mark said, “the reason I said I’d go with you is that I knew you’d handle this like a man. With dignity and integrity, like your dad would do. Do I have your word that you’ll do that?”

  Jimmy stood straighter, and his expression took on a new resolve. “I will.”

  Mark nodded at Doug, and they escorted Jimmy in. They walked past the men from Oak Hollow, past Blake and Randy, past the escapees who’d been brought back in.

  Jimmy’s eyes locked on the cell at the back of the room. Tree House was on the floor doing push-ups; his arms bulging as he came down and up, down and up. He looked up and chuckled as the trio walked toward him. “Dey puttin’ you in here wit’ me, white boy?”

  Mark didn’t answer.

  “Dat’s right. You workin’ for de other side now. You watch your back now, you hear? Or you might wind up like de sheriff and his deputies.”

  Mark didn’t take the bait. He felt Jimmy’s shoulders going rigid, felt the tremor of the boy’s rage. “Dante Miller, I want you to meet Jimmy Scarbrough,” Mark said.r />
  “Scarbrough?” Tree House seemed amused. Stepping toward the bars, he said, “De sheriff’s boy, huh?” His face grew serious, and he took hold of the bars, and pressed his face between them. “What you doin’ here?”

  Jimmy took a step toward him and spoke through his teeth. “I wanted to see you in a cold jail cell, locked up tight, where you’d never get out.”

  Suddenly, Tree House spat. A wad of phlegm hit Jimmy in the face.

  The boy snapped and lunged forward, looking like he could strangle Tree House with his bare hands, or die trying.

  “Jimmy, don’t!” Doug wrestled him back. The boy kept fighting to get away, but Doug pulled him back to the door.

  Mark turned back to Tree House. “You’re a real class act.”

  Another wad of spit came flying at Mark, but it only hit the floor.

  Slowly, Mark turned and went back out.

  Jimmy was still raging.

  “See there?” Wheaton said. “I told you that was a bad idea.”

  Jimmy kicked a chair and sent it rolling across the room. It crashed into a metal desk. Turning to Mark, he shouted, “Why’d you have to clean out those cells?”

  Mark knew Jimmy would never understand. “Because it was the right thing to do.”

  “He doesn’t deserve the right thing!”

  Mark sighed. “No, he doesn’t.”

  Jimmy grabbed his coat and started for the door.

  Wheaton tossed Doug the car keys. “Doug, Mark, drive him home. Make sure he’s delivered to his grandparents.”

  Mark hurried out and caught the boy before he could get on his bike. “Jimmy, wait. We’re taking you home. Get in.”

  Frustrated, Jimmy got off his bike. Doug picked it up and put it into the back of the van. Jimmy just stood there, refusing to move.

  “Jimmy, I know how you feel,” Mark said.

  “You keep saying that, but you don’t. If you did, you wouldn’t have cleaned out those cells.”

  Mark bent to look into his face. “Jimmy, yesterday, when they brought those men in who did this to me, I had the same feelings you’re having right now. I felt like killing somebody. But God showed me that cleaning those toilets was a way of separating myself from the men who beat innocent people with baseball bats . . . or spit in the face of grieving sons.”

  Jimmy fought back his tears.

  “You have to take the high road, Jimmy. It’s the only way you’ll find any peace over what’s happened. It’s what your dad would do.”

  The tears pushed forth, and Jimmy looked at his feet. Mark put his good arm around him, holding him for a moment. Finally, he felt strength seeping back into the boy. Jimmy wiped his face on his sleeve and got into the van.

  SIXTY-ONE

  JIMMY’S GRANDPARENTS WEREN’T AT THE SCARBROUGH’S when they took the boy home.

  “They probably went out looking for me when they realized I wasn’t in my room,” Jimmy said.

  “Well, we’re not leaving you here alone,” Doug said.

  “Why not? I stay by myself all the time! I’m not some little kid.”

  “Your judgment is slightly off-kilter right now,” Doug said. “We’ll leave them a note. I’m taking you to my house where my family can keep an eye on you.”

  Jimmy didn’t argue. They got back into the van. His silence made Doug uneasy. Did he intend to bolt and run the minute they turned their backs? If so, what would he do?

  When they got to Oak Hollow, they found the Brannings’ garage open. Jeff was crossing the street with a rabbit cage in his arms. Doug pulled the van into his driveway. Kay, Beth, and Logan were in the garage, taking care of the rabbits.

  Beth straightened when she saw Jimmy getting out of the van. “Jimmy, what are you doing here?”

  His face changed. “Hey, Beth. You live here?”

  Doug looked from one to the other. “You two know each other?”

  “We went to school together, before the Pulses,” Beth said. Her face absorbed the pain on Jimmy’s. “I’m sorry about your dad. I’ve been praying for him real hard.”

  He tightened his lips and looked at his feet.

  “Jimmy’s gonna stay with us until his mom or his grandparents come to get him.”

  A smile tugged at Beth’s lips. “Can you help us lock down these rabbit cages?”

  Jimmy shrugged. “Sure, I guess.”

  “Jeff found some heavy chain, and we’re gonna put it through the cages. He traded two rabbits for some padlocks.”

  Jimmy picked up the chain and examined it. “This could work,” he said.

  Beth showed him Jeff’s sketch of the plan. It was the most animated Doug had seen his younger daughter in days. He shot a surprised look at Mark, and Mark winked.

  Maybe the project would provide the necessary distraction for both of these traumatized kids.

  SIXTY-TWO

  MARK FOUND DENI AT THE TYPEWRITER IN HER FATHER’S study, working on an article about the arrests of Tree House and the other prisoners. When he came into the room, she sprang up and threw her arms around him. “Mark, I’ve been so worried! Did you find Larry and Jack?”

  Her greeting brought a smile to his lips, and he savored the feel of her hug. “Not yet. We found where they’ve been staying, but they weren’t there.” He filled her in.

  Letting him go, she leaned back on the desk. “Mark, I’ve been thinking about this all day, trying to figure out where they might be. Didn’t they have a warehouse in town where they kept all that smut they sold?”

  Mark hadn’t really considered that. “They must have, I guess. They kept a lot of it in my dad’s house, but they had so many stores.”

  “If they had a warehouse, you might find the address on an invoice or something.”

  Mark thought that through. Maybe Deni was onto something. He looked into her anxious eyes. “I told you you were gifted.”

  She grabbed the front of his shirt. “Let’s go over there and look right now. There’s no time to waste.”

  Deni’s parents were across the street working on the rabbit cages when she and Mark came out. She didn’t take the time to tell them where she was going — dusk was beginning to fall, and she didn’t want to be at Vic Green’s house after dark.

  It only took a few moments for them to walk to his father’s house, and Mark handed Deni his Glock as he fished the keys out of his pocket, found the right one, and unlocked the front door.

  The sight of the living room took her breath away. “Wow, you were right. This place is a mess.” She knew Mark must dread the thought of cleaning it up. Maybe when Larry and Jack were safely behind bars, she and her mom could come in here and put it back together, so he wouldn’t have to.

  He lit an oil lantern — one of the few items left intact. He handed it to her and took the gun back.

  Memories rushed back to her as she stepped over the mess. She had made friends with Vic for his swimming pool when water was so scarce — putting her life in the hands of a killer so she could wash her hair. Such stupidity.

  “Let’s hurry,” she said as she followed Mark upstairs. “This place creeps me out.”

  He led her to the room his father had used as an office. File cabinets lined the wall. This was the room where he and her parents had found the boxes of pornography when Deni was on the road with Vic.

  Her skin chilled at the memory of the horrors she had walked into.

  Mark went to a file cabinet and pulled out a drawer. “I was here earlier today when I got the address to the deer camp, so I know which drawers it’s not in.”

  “Is there a file for receipts?”

  He scanned the file labels in two more drawers. “Here it is.” He took it to the desk, and she set the lamp down so they could read.

  Suddenly, they heard a creak overhead.

  Deni caught her breath and grabbed Mark’s arm. “Did you hear that?” she whispered.

  He raised his gun. “Maybe it was the wind,” he whispered. But he chambered a round and pointed the gun
toward the sound.

  Another creak. Her heart stumbled into triple-time as terror shivered through her. “Mark, they’re in the attic.”

  He motioned for her to be quiet and follow close behind him. She held her breath as he led her out into the hall and toward the stairs that would take her to safety. She kept her eyes on the ceiling, wondering where the attic door was.

  Mark stayed close beside her as they descended the staircase. She stumbled as they reached the first floor, righted herself, and stepped over things to get to the door.

  Suddenly, she heard a gun cocking.

  Her heart stopped as Jack stepped out of the dining room, his revolver at her head.

  Deni screamed.

  She heard a whack and spun around. Mark hit the floor, and she saw Larry standing over him. Breathing hard from his descent down the stairs, he held a rifle in one hand, and Mark’s Glock in the other.

  “Well, this is gonna be real fun,” Larry said.

  She screamed again. Jack’s hand slapped around her mouth, muffling her as he pulled her against him.

  Mark scrambled to his feet. “Let her go, Jack. She hasn’t done anything to you. It’s me you want.”

  “Oh, it’s you we got,” Larry said. “Right where we want you. Don’t we, Jack?”

  “Where’s the gold?” Jack bit out.

  Deni struggled under Jack’s arm, fighting to get away, but he clamped his arm across her throat, subduing her in a death grip. He pulled her back to the table and grabbed a roll of duct tape. Larry covered Mark with his rifle.

  Jack ripped a piece of tape off with his teeth and slapped it over Deni’s mouth. She squealed, but she knew no one would hear. He got more tape, wrapped it around one of her wrists. Roughly, he wrestled her other hand behind her and wrapped them together.

  Duct tape. It had been Vic’s favorite way of binding his victims. The thought made her nauseous.

  “Let her go!” Mark said. “I’ll take you to the gold!”

  Jack shoved Deni to the floor. She kicked and fought as he wrapped her ankles together.

  “I’ve only spent three coins,” Mark said. “There are ninety-seven left. They’re all yours.”