by Joy Ohagwu
“And get into more trouble?” She shook her head. “Not happening.”
“You should let him go so, if something goes wrong, someone can report back to us,” Abel suggested.
It wasn’t his gentleness that got her. It was the fear she sensed in his words. The uncertainty of not knowing what happened to her, should things go awry, could haunt him. “Put on your shoes, Bishop.” She wagged a finger. “But you better be a model citizen. No punches?”
He saluted her with a cheeky grin. “No punches, ma’am.”
When they arrived, Priscilla ushered them into the governor’s posh office. The man, in his mid-fifties with streaks of gray in his hair, extended a hand to Stacy, giving Bishop a curt nod. “Mrs. Black, I apologize for getting you out of the house on a holiday.” He pointed at two chairs facing the large oak desk with the state’s insignia on it. “Please have a seat.” He waved a young man in a black suit in. “Chuck can get you anything you want to drink.”
She managed to hide her nervous hands by clasping them together. “No thank you, sir. I want to get to why we’re here if you don’t mind.” With her nerves stretched to their breaking point, she kept her head up. On the ride over here, she’d wished her husband was still alive. The longer she did this, the more the issues felt too much for her to handle.
“Of course,” the governor said, the young man stepping aside but not leaving the room.
He waited until Priscilla shut the door before he spoke. “I called you because we received a call from some investigators out of state. We were informed about a missing person, Julia, who is currently in your care.”
Stacy gasped. “Oh no. How did they find her? Is she still safe with us? I shouldn’t have made that call.” She sucked in her bottom lip.
“They traced your phone call.” He raised a hand. “You have nothing to regret.” A slight pause punctuated his words. “Matter of fact, what you did was heroic. So heroic, that the governor of her state and the lead investigator, who happens to be Julia’s uncle, having ascertained from our local authorities that Julia is with you and safe, have awarded you the one-million-dollar reward for whoever found her.”
The… Did he say…? Stacy couldn’t speak, could scarcely think. The words rang in her ears. “What?”
“You are now the owner of one million dollars.” The governor smiled. “I also intercepted the proceeding to remove your center from its current facility. You will get a new facility in town, fully paid for and equipped with educational and recreational facilities for youth attached. New Creations will have a new location, and you will receive more grants to support your work with the youth in gratitude for your service to the community. I searched, and the records show you’ve turned around quite a few bad stories to good. We want more of that. You have my apologies for the previous…circumstances.”
A tremble began from her hands and spread to her feet, and soon, her entire body was shaking. Tears filled her eyes. She reached out a shaky hand to Bishop. “Did I hear the man correctly?”
Silent tears slipping past his eyes, Bishop gripped her hand and squeezed. She saw through his tears. He wouldn’t be back on the streets. He’d have warmth, food, and shelter for the foreseeable future. “Mrs. Black, you are now a millionaire. Yes, I heard that part. It couldn’t have happened to a better person.”
Hand secured in his clasp, she fixed her gaze on him.
And he kept nodding. “I heard about the new place too. Yes, he said all that.”
So it was true. It was all true. A New Year’s miracle. She gulped past the lump in her throat. “Thank You, my Lord Jesus! Oh, thank You, God.” She stood, walked around the desk, and hugged the governor, sobbing into his shoulder and worrying about ruining his suit. “My kids will be safe, eh?”
His jaw bobbed above her head. “Yes, they will be. You have done a great job, Mrs. Black. Your reward was inevitable.” He waited until she returned to her seat before he spoke again. “Julia will be transferred immediately, following her uncle’s consent, into a secure facility where she will be cared for until her full recovery from her injury.”
Stacy didn’t bother to ask how they knew.
“She is more like a protected witness, as she witnessed something that could aid a crucial investigation. She can’t go home yet. But she will be safe, and her family will be able to visit her.”
“Oh, that’s great news.” She sighed, her every muscle loosening from the clenched grip she’d had on herself since—when? The notice to vacate? Her husband’s death? Despite her trust in Jesus, how long had it been since she’d felt she could let the pressure go, since she’d felt she didn’t have to be the strong one carrying on for others?
Joy had taken away her usual attitude of gratitude. “On behalf of me and the youth of New Creations, we say thank you for your support and generosity. Thank you very much, sir. We won’t forget this.” Only God could’ve turned things around for her and the troubled youth she cared for, completely for good, as only He could do.
A new song sang in her heart, sufficient to give her peace and let her know her invisible, erstwhile unrecognized labor of love for those who could not pay her back, was seen by the Savior up above. This wasn’t their last New Year’s celebration together. Not at all. They’d have more good celebrations for years to come, thanks to divine intervention. God had come through for her. Thank You, Lord Jesus!
Chapter Twenty-Six
…I am HE WHO searches the minds and hearts. And I will give to each one of you according to your works. Revelation 2:23
* * *
The sun shone brightly, its light burning through the slit between the window curtains later that morning when, at a tap on her shoulder, Asia jerked upright. When had she dozed off? The last time she checked, the time was nine a.m. Now it said ten a.m.
“It’s time to go.” One of the officers who had watched her room stood in front of her. He sported dark circles under his eyes. “We took your luggage downstairs. I saw you had slept, and since we watched you, we didn’t want to wake you.”
She shook off sleep and pressed up from the ground. “Thank you very much. Let me wash my face and brush my teeth real quick.” She walked to the bathroom, past the bed she didn’t sleep on, and turned on the tap. Grateful she’d taken the time to get her hair done, she swiped a few finger brushes to fix the stray hair and tuck a few strands behind her ear.
After washing her face and applying a little bit of makeup to cover the puffy eyes, she brushed her teeth with the travel toothbrush and toothpaste she found in the bathroom. Then she stared at her reflection again. Bags still protested beneath her eyes. She had no brush to smoothen the hair that had tousled loose with her bending over the sink. With her fingers, she brushed it down.
Content, she stepped out of the room and followed the officer. Ramirez called to let her know they’d arrived at the airport and were waiting.
Outside, she climbed into the vehicle and rode in an unmarked police cruiser to the airport, but a longing stirred in her heart.
She missed Latricia. She missed her sister’s laughter and her smile, and she couldn’t wait to see her.
Once the vehicle came to a stop before the airport, she spotted Latricia with an accompanying officer, pacing. “Latricia,” she called as she stepped onto the asphalt.
Waving, Latricia hurried toward her. Then she wrapped Asia in a tight hug, sobbing into her neck. “I’m so glad you’re alive and okay, Asia. You had me so worried.”
Hands rushed them forward. “We need to get you both out of the open. Please.”
Latricia stepped to the side, and an officer carried Asia’s luggage to the check-in while they trailed him. As planned, the officer checked in her luggage without her in order to protect her. She went through security. So did Latricia. And Ramirez stayed with them.
In the waiting area, she needed to use the bathroom. Her flight was going to be leaving in about a half hour. So she informed Ramirez and promised to be right back.
He nodded and idled around Latricia while another officer went with Asia and waited outside the restroom entrance. Asia walked into the bathroom. The toilets were automatic flush, and one flushed at the last stall. But it was empty.
She exhaled and entered the middle toilet after making sure it was also empty. “Relax, there’s nobody here.” She shut it and locked it. As she settled to use the bathroom, someone sobbing rushed into the bathroom. She didn’t pay much attention.
After using the toilet, she stepped out of the stall as it flushed automatically. Then something hit her from behind. Asia fell, but she flipped onto her back to identify her attacker. The lady, who’d sounded like she was sobbing, pointed a weapon at her. “We warned you. Go home, and you’ll die.”
“Jesus!” Asia shouted. And her voice collided with a bullet hitting the woman’s head. Asia rolled away from the attacker as the woman’s gun hit the ground without firing, as did her body. At the entrance, smoke escaped from the gun of the officer stationed outside the bathroom. His move had saved her life. He raced to her side and helped her off her feet, speaking on his radio.
As he rushed Asia outside the bathroom, Ramirez raced for them. “Asia, are you okay? Follow me.”
The officers led Latricia—who was wide-eyed and gasping—from the waiting area to a secure room.
“What happened?” Latricia asked, grabbing at Asia with frantic hands.
Asia allowed the officer to explain the series of events while she gathered her nerves together. The woman would’ve killed her had that officer not been there. Her tearful entrance had been her camouflage.
“Ma’am, I’m asking you to reconsider going home,” an officer suggested before he updated Ramirez on the situation. More officers took her statements and that of the officer. Asia glimpsed the body being wheeled in a black bag out of the airport. She shuddered.
Had God not intervened, that could’ve been her. She would’ve died in Mexico. She owed Jesus even more gratitude. She’d shouted His name involuntarily when confronted with certain death because, somewhere in her heart, something had shifted.
She’d gathered evidence in the form of miracles, and even without a public declaration, that evidence had birthed faith—faith amid adversity. What more was left?
A female officer handed Asia a pair of black slacks and a brown tee shirt. “I’m sorry, this is all we have.” She pointed at Asia’s clothes. “We’ll need your clothes as evidence.”
Asia glanced at the blood sprinkled on her clothes and shuddered again. “Okay, let me change.” She changed the clothes in a corner while the male officers looked away. Done, she allowed the female officer to bag her former clothes.
“Asia, I would advise against going home. Maybe you should stick around,” Ramirez said. Then, shaking his head, he rubbed his forehead. “But there is no guarantee you’ll be safer here in Mexico.”
“Exactly. I thought about that already.” She turned to him, tugging at the clothes which felt a little tight. “Are we done here?”
He nodded. “Yes, of course, we’ll follow up with you in the States if there is any reason to.”
Hugging an arm around her, her sister asked, “So what do we do? I mean, Mexico doesn’t sound too bad. We could live here for a while until…”
They’d already missed their flight. They’d need to get another one. The forensic team as well as airport security worked the crime scene. She strode out of the room toward the airport counter, and they all followed her and waited. She could imagine what they were wondering.
Maybe she’d cancel.
Maybe they would live in Mexico.
Maybe she’d heed the forewarning…
She smiled at the reservations person who flashed a smile back. “How may I help you, ma’am?”
“We need two seats on a flight back to the US, please. And we need a flight leaving at its soonest departure. We’re going home.” She spoke with steely resolve.
“I got a report just now that your home could be laced with explosives,” Ramirez said.
“They have a bounty on your head too,” another officer, scrolling through a device, announced.
“And your state police superintendent washed their hands of your protection when we contacted them,” another added.
“And we’re running short on cash.” As she met her gaze, Latricia’s lips thinned. “They will come to kill you, Asia. You know that.”
“We are going home. I experienced Jesus here, and I wasn’t a faith person when I arrived. But something happened to me. He saved my life more than once and answered every single prayer. Do you know how impossible that is to be coincidental? Absolutely impossible. I know miracles when I’ve lived them.”
Asia fisted her hand on the check-in counter. “I won’t be careless, but I’m going home—we’re going home.”
Tears stung her eyes, and she locked gazes with her sister, still unsure how to communicate everything she was feeling. “We’re going home, Trish, because…I know my God.” She nodded firmly. The confession felt new, but welcome. She still had to think through what occurred. But her conviction was firm.
Jesus stood for her. She’d stand on faith in Him and not live in fear of men who didn’t have the courage to live honest lives. She leaned toward the ticketing agent. “Get us tickets. Check. Us. In.”
The smoke from the boss’s cigar rose to the ceiling. The man who’d nursed bee stings and the inflammation that followed was still aching. He’d buried three of his men because the boss killed them every time he failed. He’d lost sleep. He couldn’t eat, and here he was summoned to the man’s lair again. If only there was a way out… “I expect the girl, Asia, is dead, correct?”
He gulped and gripped the edge of the dirty brown desk, cleaner than the man’s dark heart. Who killed people and didn’t feel bad? He’d signed up to sell girls and make money. It was a shortcut to wealth like the man from his hometown had convinced him was his own way to wealth. Having lived this life for two years, he wasn’t too sure he could stomach any more threats.
“She, she, um.” He panicked.
The man slammed his hand on the desk, and his heart jumped.
“Don’t tell me she’s still alive?!” The man’s eyes reddened as deeply as the rotten cherries in his trash can many days old. “I told you what would happen if she got away.”
The loud wail of a ship arriving and anchoring at the dock, its underbelly likely holding a shipment of more girls taken against their will, echoed his grief. This had to stop. He had a wife and a daughter. “She got the woman we sent killed.” He collapsed to his knees. “I don’t want to kill anymore.”
The man glared at him and pulled out his gun. “You won’t have to because, if you don’t make sure she doesn’t make it out of the airport in the United States, your death will be next.”
He rose on shaky legs, sure that his life depended on her death. “She won’t.” THE END! CLICK HERE & preorder books two to ten - while the price is low. | join my newsletter
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