He chose the latter course.
This building was clearly the dormitory, and the windows all seemed to be wide open. Good enough. Briggs headed to the rear of the building, ostensibly toward the cafeteria/common room. But as soon as he was out of sight of the two little girls, he veered behind the dorm.
As expected, there was a back door, but it was locked. These people were too stupid. He leaned inside an open window right beside the door and turned the dead bolt. In a matter of seconds he was inside.
Judging by the size and layout of the building, it looked like a two-room dorm—one side for girls, the other for boys. Four sets of bunk beds lined the walls of this room, with simple wooden shelves providing space for the children’s meager belongings. Through an open doorway at the end, he could see a shower and toilet; there was a closed door leading, he hoped, into the houseparents’ room.
He found this door locked, but breaking in was a simple matter of running a credit card between the door and the jamb. Stupid, people. Really stupid.
Entering the closetlike little room, he found evidence of the Malone woman’s occupation, as well as that of the current houseparents. A weird little pen-and-ink drawing—a skinny guy in glasses and a fishing hat with a lizard on it—hung over the queen-size bed. Drawings autographed to “Aunt Benny” were tacked with pushpins on a corkboard over the desk. Several plastic flower leis adorned the bedposts. A PC sat on a desk under the window.
Bingo. He sat down in the desk chair and booted up the computer.
Within ten minutes, he had hacked in. He pulled up the e-mail program and scanned through the most recent received messages. Nothing struck him until he went back nearly six months and found an e-mail from somebody named Ladonna Sherman.
Hi, Bernadette,
Thank you for writing to check on me again. You’ll never know how much your forgiveness and compassion mean to me. I’m doing well, but the doctor still watches me like a hawk. I think he’s afraid I’ll go back to using. It’s only the grace of God that I don’t. I’d love to see you if you ever get back to the Memphis area. I know you’d never tell another soul where I am. I count on your discretion. Anyway, I understand that hearing from me is probably painful, so I won’t bother you again. Please know that I pray for you daily and count you one of the dearest blessings of a good and faithful God.
In Christ, Ladonna.
Briggs turned on the printer, printed the e-mail and got out. He’d found what he was looking for.
FOURTEEN
By the time they boarded the boat, dusk had fallen. Lights had blinked on all over the Riverwalk—in the trees, inside the shops and restaurants, along the bridges.
It looked like a fairyland scene from a Disney movie.
But a chill had dropped over the river with the setting of the sun, and Benny slipped on the jacket Isabel had sent with her. She moved a little closer to Owen in an effort to absorb his warmth.
They sat near the back of the boat, where the breeze was less intense. A group of teenage girls occupied the seat in front of them, their squeals and giggles echoing with childish joy. The tour guide, who identified himself as a local college student hungry for tips, kept up a running commentary that Benny and Owen mostly ignored.
She had a hard time concentrating on anything but him. Over the last few years, she’d built, carefully, one block at a time, a reputation for diligence, responsibility, integrity.
Wisdom.
Here and now, she felt like one of those airheaded teens—happy as she had never been in her whole life.
She’d been full of joy in the Lord. Grateful for His rescue. Secure in the knowledge that, whatever happened in her life, she was bound for Heaven and she was loved in the most intimate way possible by her Creator.
But this…
This giddy, heart-stopping knowledge that Owen cared for her…
She wanted to do something completely uncharacteristic. Stand up and rock the boat. Jump up and down and wave her hands. Twirl like a ballerina.
Crazy.
He bent his head to murmur in her ear. “What are you smiling at?”
She shivered, unable to look at him without breaking out in a grin. “Nothing. I’m just happy.”
“Are you warm enough?” He tugged her closer, wrapping his arm around her shoulders so that his hand cupped her elbow. She was tucked against his chest.
Scandalous, and she didn’t care. After all, they were in public, with people everywhere.
She reached up to touch one of the earrings dangling against her neck. “I’m perfect.”
“You are.”
At that, she looked up. “That’s not what I—”
The look in his eyes stopped her. His gaze dropped to her mouth and the eagle took flight in her chest again.
“Listen to me, Bernadette.” He lowered his head so that only she could hear him. “I don’t know what happened to you before I knew you. Don’t think I don’t care, because everything about you matters to me. But there’s plenty of time for you to tell me who hurt you and why and all that.” He stopped for a moment, lips pressed together.
She started to answer, but he shook his head.
“No, listen. I want to say this. You’ve got to know how much I want to kiss you. You’re a very bright woman—” he laughed softly “—and I’m an out-in-the-open kind of guy. But I’ll never pressure you. In fact, I’ll wait until you offer to kiss me. As long as I have to, I’ll wait for you.”
Tears burned in her eyes. “Owen, it’s not what you think—”
“I don’t care what it is. And I really don’t want to mess up our day together. I just want you to know I love you. I’ve loved you since the day we took the children to the river last summer.”
Did he think she was afraid of him? She had never wanted anything more desperately than to fall into the love he offered, to drown herself in it and pretend she deserved it.
Not fair that she had nothing to give Owen but a broken spirit and a remorseful heart. Since she’d known him, she’d done nothing but take from him.
A kiss was all he wanted right now. The only thing he’d ever asked of her.
She was scared to death she’d mess that up, too.
Shuddering, she reached up and laid her hand against his cheek. “Come here.” She pulled his head down just enough that her lips met his and clung for a stinging moment of sweetness. And then his mouth opened a little, inviting her to stay. Yes, she thought, and found herself pulled under, lost in Owen’s goodness and the way he loved her. No one had ever kissed her like this, intent on healing her, making her feel cherished and beautiful.
When he stopped and laid kisses on the bridge of her nose and under her eyes, she realized she was crying.
“Was it that bad?” He sounded amused.
“I’m a mess.” She hid her face in his shoulder.
“That’s okay. I’m a slob, so we’ll make a great couple.”
“Owen, we can’t—”
“Sorry, folks, it’s my bedtime so I’ve got to boot you out. This is my last tour of the night.”
Startled, Bernadette jerked and bumped heads with Owen.
He gave their young captain a mock scowl. “Your timing stinks, man.” He sighed. But he stood, gave Benny a hand and helped her step off onto the pier. They stood in a puddle of light under an old-fashioned street lamp as the tour guide tied the boat down. “I guess we have to go back to Eli’s. Want to go to church in the morning?”
“Of course.” She tried to regain her equilibrium, though her unsteadiness came from emotion rather than the gentle sway of the boat on the river.
She needed a time of concentrated praise and worship and Scripture study more than she’d ever needed it in her life.
Owen had no idea what the preacher said in his sermon. He had passed the morning in a fog of bliss interrupted only when Isabel towed him into the computer room after breakfast and demanded the receipts from Bernadette’s clothes so she could write him a check. He told her to
go pester Eli for a while, then asked her if he could borrow a Bible.
He automatically stood up with the congregation when the invitation hymn was played. Bernadette had kissed him. Voluntarily, sweetly and thoroughly. Or maybe it had been the other way around and he had kissed her.
They had kissed each other, and he loved her so much, he wanted to haul her off to a justice of the peace right now before she could change her mind.
Isabel, perfectly aware of where Benny’s new earrings had come from, had warned him not to be stupid. “You can borrow my Bible,” she’d said, “but don’t rush your fences.”
“That’s an English riding term, not Western,” he’d informed her and wandered back into the kitchen for another biscuit.
Okay, he thought as he followed Bernadette and the rest of the Carmichael clan out of the church building toward the family van. So I sit on it for a while. She’s certainly not going to give herself to anybody else. We go to Memphis, take care of whatever business she has there and come home to Del Rio. I can wait.
He repeated it to himself. I can wait.
“Coldwater, Mississippi? You mean all this time, she’s been right here under my nose, twenty miles away?”
Grenville was pulling out of the church parking lot, trying to get across town before everyone beat him to Morrison’s. He always took the entire family, grandkids and all, out to eat every Sunday. Marjorie used to cook a pot roast with rice and gravy, but nowadays, the clan had gotten so big, he liked to give her a break. They could afford it.
She had no idea who he was talking to or what it was about. Didn’t care, either. In fact, she was on her own cell phone, trying to calm their daughter Kristin down. Kristin was always mad at her husband, Joey, these days. Poor guy worked sixty hours a week and still couldn’t do anything right.
“Are you sure that’s the right address?” he demanded.
Briggs let out an irritated sigh. “I checked and rechecked. It’s got to be the same woman. The dates are right, social security number, everything. I would’ve told you last night if you’d had your phone turned on.”
“We were at the opera. You don’t turn on your cell phone when you’re in the Orpheum. Very bad manners.” Grenville glanced at Marjorie, who had just closed her phone and stuck it in her purse. “Listen, just get up here and take care of the problem. I have to go to Washington tomorrow morning for preliminary hearings. I want the issue settled by the end of the week.”
“You’re with the wife, aren’t you?” guessed Briggs.
“Yes, and the stakes are enormous.”
“Okay, boss, I’m on it. But you need to put some more money in my account. I’m running low on cash.”
“Money’s no problem. Don’t call me again until you have the situation under control.”
Briggs mumbled something unintelligible, then cut the connection.
Grenville removed his phone earpiece and smiled at his wife. “Are they still meeting us at the restaurant, honey?”
“Yes. She’s just tired from being up all night with the baby.” She pulled down the visor mirror to check her lipstick. “Didn’t Bob and Teresa Denton move down to Coldwater a couple of years ago?”
“I don’t remember.”
How much had she heard?
“I’m not sure I want to go up in a plane with you again.” Benny hung back as Owen finished the exterior part of the preflight inspection. He’d called in a favor from a friend in order to borrow this single-engine Cessna Skyhawk to take her to Memphis. At least, that was what he’d told her.
What kind of friends did he have, rich enough to loan him a plane? It wasn’t a cargo plane like the one he’d flown down to Mexico—the one they’d left in Gustavo’s barn, which somebody would eventually have to retrieve. This was a single-engine plane, albeit a very cushy one with leather seats and gleaming instrument panel. And they were going all the way to Memphis in it.
Unless she changed her mind.
He looked around after examining the propeller, a broad grin on his sunburned face. “What’s the matter, lady? Got butterflies?” This morning he’d washed his hair so many times, the cheap black dye had turned to a streaky dirt color. Wearing Eli’s brown leather bomber jacket, he looked like a rock star.
Did she have butterflies?
“Yeah, the size of a pterodactyl. That last experience kind of took my breath away.”
“Hey, lightning never strikes twice in the same place. Besides, how else are you gonna get where you want to go?”
“I’m partial to the bus, myself.”
“That would take twice as long. You said you were in a hurry.”
She sighed. “I am. That’s the only reason I’m going to put on a blindfold, plug my ears and get in that cockpit with you.”
“You know why they call it a cockpit, don’t you?”
“No, but I’m sure you’re going to tell me.”
“It started with the fighter pilots of World War I. That’s what we are, Benny. A team of fighter pilots.”
“Owen, why are you doing this? You don’t have to go.”
With one step he was right in front of her, tall and compelling. Fearless.
“You know why. Any time you need me, Bernadette, I’ll be there. In fact—” he grinned “—I’ll be there whether you want me or not. Now come on, let’s roll. Time’s a-wastin’.”
Owen’s college frat brother, Johnny Stapp, happened to be a licensed pilot as well as an FBI agent. Currently stationed in San Antonio, Johnny had been glad to arrange for the plane, the fuel and hangar space in Memphis. The only stipulation was that he be included in the wedding party when Owen finally got around to proposing.
Which Owen assured him would happen at the earliest opportunity. Just as soon as he could get up the nerve.
He figured he’d at least made a step in the right direction with the earrings and the kiss. Twice he’d told her he loved her and she hadn’t said it back. But the look in her eyes said more than words.
After an uneventful four-hour flight, they were taxiing up to a tie-down space at Wilson Air Center at Memphis International Airport. The third leg of their adventure had begun. Not that he was complaining. Owen liked adventure as much as the next man. It was just that he really preferred to know where he was headed.
A couple of avionics techs ran to help him park and tie down, so professionally and smoothly that the process took less than fifteen minutes. Owen helped Bernadette down from the plane and kept a protective hand at her back as they crossed the tarmac to the terminal.
She looked casual but put together in the clothes she’d bought in San Antonio—slim jeans, a pink long-sleeved knit top and white leather shoes with girly flowers across the toes. The concierge, a young man in a Wilson Air polo shirt, gave her an appreciative glance as he showed them to the pilots’ lounge.
“Make yourselves at home, sir, ma’am,” he said, smiling at Bernadette. “Agent Stapp left instructions to provide you with whatever you need in the way of business supplies. We have computers, fax, printer…and we have a snack bar if you’re hungry or thirsty.” He stopped in the doorway on the way out. “Let me know if I can assist you in any way.”
“I think you’ve made a conquest.” Owen stretched his weary back. Johnny’s plane was comfortably appointed, but it had been a long flight from San Antonio.
Bernadette wandered over to the window, which looked out on the busy airfield. Owen walked up behind her, hoping she’d turn around and offer a kiss. She’d been quiet all morning and he didn’t know how to reach the place they’d been Saturday night.
“What’s on your mind, Bernadette?”
Her shoulders lifted. “Trying to figure out how to tell you about Ladonna Sherman and—and Bernadette McBride.”
“Who?” He laid his hands on her shoulders. The bones there were as small and fragile as a sparrow’s, the muscles tight. His stomach started to hurt. “Is Ladonna the one who sent you that e-mail? The one that started all this?”
; “Yes.” She turned to look up at him, expression sober. “I’m sorry I didn’t give you the whole story from the beginning. But I hoped I wouldn’t have to involve you. And then when we crashed and it took so long to get here…By the time I realized you were involved, I couldn’t figure out how to…” Her lips were trembling and she lifted her fingers to cover them. “Owen, I’m so sorry.”
He didn’t have the heart to make her feel any worse than she already did. If only he knew what was at the root of her troubles.
“Okay, don’t worry about it. You’re talking now. That’s the important thing.”
She looked at the closed door of the lounge. “Are you sure nobody will come in on us?”
“Can’t guarantee it. You want to go somewhere more private?”
Her eyes widened. “No! I mean…this is fine. But can we sit down?”
“Sure.” He led the way to a conversation area with a leather sofa, a television and a couple of wing chairs. He chose the sofa, hoping Benny would sit beside him. She edged onto one of the chairs. Distance.
Oh, man. Not good.
What to do with his hands? He placed them on his thighs.
Bernadette twisted her fingers. Finally, he cleared his throat. “Did you want me to just ask you questions?”
“No, I—I’ll just start from the beginning.” A tiny flash of humor lit her eyes. “The very best place to start, according to Maria in The Sound of Music.”
He smiled. “Okay, so you were born…”
“Let’s not go that far back.” She sighed. “I already told you I was a foster kid. The usual scenario. Unwed mother trying to raise me alone, boyfriend after boyfriend…” She swallowed. “One of them molested me.”
He tensed. Maybe he’d known it deep down. But still, when she said it out loud, he wanted to hit a wall with his fist. Or the guy who had done that to her. No, what he really wanted to do was hold her. But she sat apart from him, stiff as a mannequin in a store window.
On Wings of Deliverance Page 15