And Then Came A Lion (Lions and Lambs Book 1)

by Cecilia Marie Pulliam

  “I’m heading to bed. Are you staying up?”

  “Yes, for a bit. I want to finish this article.”

  Susannah gave him a kiss and walked to the door. She looked back at Buddy. “Are you coming?”

  He snuggled back down next to Mark. With a shrug, she went upstairs.

  ***

  She had a different kind of dream that night. She and Mark strolled along one of several paths paralleling a creek. They stepped onto one of the many small, arched bridges and paused. Susannah leaned over the railing and looked up at the lodge.

  The main building shimmered in the waning light, windows ablaze. The numerous satellite cabins were alternately dark and brightly lit. She gazed skyward. Stars covered the expanse from horizon to horizon, more stars than she could remember seeing. They were brighter on cold nights, and that February night was cold. Snow still lay in patches on the north side of the buildings and along the northern slopes. The tangy scents of pine, fir, and sage left a bitter taste on the back of her tongue.

  Mark squeezed her hand. “Susannah, I have to go, and you can’t come with me.”

  “What do you mean I can’t go with you?”

  Without another word, he walked off the bridge and disappeared into the night. Susannah stared after him. Loneliness and grief unpacked their bags and made themselves at home in her heart.

  With heavy steps, she walked to the top of a low rise and sat on a wooden bench. The pain was too much. God was wrong. She couldn’t bear it.

  She grabbed her stomach and leaned over in a vain attempt to squelch the pain.

  Sensing movement in her periphery, she looked up into the face of Jesus. He sat next to her, put His arm around her, and drew her close.

  “Susannah, you will never look at the stars alone.”

  She opened her eyes and stared up at the bedroom ceiling. Light from the window played across the surface. Oh God, please don’t take Mark! Haven’t I suffered enough?

  Rolling over, she sat up, and slipped out of bed. She grabbed her robe and went downstairs. While the coffee brewed, she went out to the street, retrieved the paper, and hurried back inside.

  The headline blazed the news. Police had discovered a large ring of human traffickers operating in the Pacific Northwest. The joint investigation asked for anyone with any knowledge to call local agencies. The investigators were especially interested in the four men pictured below. Brian Falun was one of the men pictured.

  Susannah sank onto the bench seat. She had not thought of him as part of a ring of criminals. Instead, she had the distinct impression he worked alone.

  Mark sauntered into the kitchen and poured coffee. “Honey, you look exhausted. Didn’t you sleep well?”

  Susannah shook her head.

  He held up the pot. She nodded. He poured her a fresh cup and settled into the breakfast nook beside her.

  He looked at the headlines. “More children?”

  “It doesn’t mention that, but I would assume so, along with a host of other missing teens and a few young women.”

  “That’s a lot of people.”

  “It is and not just girls, boys and young men as well.”

  He shook his head. “There are some evil people out there.”

  “Yes, there are.”

  He tapped Falun’s picture. “That’s him, isn’t it?”

  Susannah nodded.

  “I’m sorry, Honey. Come here.”

  Susannah leaned heavily against his shoulder. She didn’t dare tell him what was really bothering her. How much time did they have?

  Never again would she feel anger or impatience with him. She would memorize every nuance of their relationship and hold them in her heart, bracing for what was to happen. The only thing she didn’t know was when ― or how.

  ***

  Susannah finished fixing dinner and settled in the breakfast nook with the evening paper. Chances were good she would end up eating alone, again, and warming Mark’s plate when he came home. He was coming in later and later.

  As if he had read her mind, her phone rang.

  “Susannah, I’ll be a little later tonight. I’m going to meet with a new associate. With the extra help, I should be able to cut back on some of my hours and spend a little more time with you.”

  Thank you, Lord. Thank you. “Should I make a plate for you?”

  “No, we’re doing a dinner meeting. Love you. See you later.”

  Susannah closed her phone and set it on the table. It would be good to have her husband back. The clock was ticking.

  After dinner, she snuggled into her oversized chair with a fresh cup of coffee and a book. After only a few pages, the old Indian appeared in the doorway. With a gesture, the room disappeared, replaced by a subdivision. A girl, approximately ten years of age, walked along the sidewalk. The street sign at the nearest intersection was clearly visible. Wellesley and Morton, about a half hour drive north.

  As the girl approached the intersection, a white van pulled to the curb and the middle-aged male driver got out. He said something. The girl shook her head and ran. The man grabbed her from behind, simultaneously putting his hand over her mouth and pressing a cloth to her face. He then carried the unconscious girl back to the vehicle, shoved her inside, and sped off.

  Susannah watched the man travel through the city, turn onto Rural Route 5 and continue toward an area of large warehouses. He carried the still unconscious girl into the building.

  The scene evaporated, leaving only the old Indian the doorway. “They are collectors, Susannah, and they must be stopped.”

  Susannah bolted from her chair to the kitchen, scribbled a hurried note about an urgent errand, and rushed out to the car.

  She drove north under the I-90 overpass and continued across the river into a commercial area. Gradually the businesses thinned, replaced by subdivisions. She drove by a large park at North Empire and North Division ― another good hunting ground for pedophiles. There were so many. If she was not the Lone Crusader, she could help more kids.

  That side of town was unfamiliar, and looked different from the scene played out in the premonition. Perhaps time had compressed in the vision, altering reality slightly. The appearance of some of the streets and buildings were different. Wellesley was a huge thoroughfare with four lanes of traffic rather than the smaller side street the premonition had indicated. Yet, the vision couldn’t be wrong. None of them had been – yet.

  By the next block, the setting changed to a perfect replica of the neighborhood from the vision. There, on the corner of a side street, sat the house, surrounded by trees and thick shrubs. Susannah pulled up and parked.

  A few minutes later, the girl appeared. Susannah moved up to the intersection. The van pulled in behind her, riding her bumper. So, it begins.

  She rolled down her window and called to the girl. “Do you know where 1345 East Princeton is?”

  The girl stepped further back from the curb, but nodded and pointed south. “I don’t know the address, but Princeton is down that way.”

  Susannah glanced in the rearview mirror. The van sat, waiting, the driver’s attention on the girl.

  “Thank you.”

  Susannah pulled through the intersection, watching the other vehicle through her rearview mirror. The moment the man stopped and talked to the girl, Susannah made a U-turn and headed back. By the time she reached the intersection, the man had the girl in the van and it was heading toward the main thoroughfare.

  She dialed 911.

  “What is your emergency?”

  “I want to report an abduction at the corner of Wellesley and Morton.”

  Susannah gave a description of the vehicle, the kidnapper, and the license number. Knowing his destination, she didn’t need to keep him in view, only pretend for the dispatcher.

  Two blocks down, a patrol car pulled out directly behind the kidnapper and flashed his lights. The van accelerated, screaming through the next intersection with the patrol car close behind. Susannah couldn’t keep
up. She pulled to the side of the road, closed her eyes, and prayed.

  ***

  Buddy greeted her at the back door.

  “Hey, Buddy. No Dad? Well, I guess it’s too early for him to be home yet.” She wadded up the note and threw it in the trash. “Hungry? I bet you are.”

  After feeding him, she settled her chair in the den with a new novel and a small bowl of popcorn.

  An hour later, she carried her bowl out to the kitchen sink, rinsed it out, and put it in the dishwasher. She glanced at the clock. Nearly seven and Mark still wasn’t home, nor had he called. A gnawing uneasiness buzzed around her heart.

  She went into the living room, turned on the TV, and flipped through a few channels, settling on a wildlife program. After watching a few minutes, she turned it off, went back to the kitchen, and picked up her phone from the counter. She tried calling Mark. He didn’t answer his office phone or his cell. She dialed again and left a message on both. A half hour passed and still no return call.

  Susannah paced in front of the large living room windows, the knot of worry growing larger, more volatile. Mark hadn’t said where they were meeting. She didn’t know the name of the man he was meeting with. But, if something were wrong, someone would call.

  She went back to the kitchen, filled the teakettle, and set it on the stove. While it heated, she rummaged around in the cupboard and pulled out her box of Earl Grey tea. She picked out a lighthearted book from the bookcase and laid it next to her chair.

  Her phone rang. Susannah snatched it up and answered. It wasn’t Mark.

  “Mrs. Carlson?”

  “Yes.”

  “This is Providence Trauma Center. Your husband has been in an accident.”

  She slid off the chair to the floor, clutching her phone. Buddy crawled over to her and climbed in her lap and licked her cheek. She absentmindedly brushed him off.

  “How bad is he hurt?”

  “He is in a coma and unresponsive. I can’t give you much in the way of hope.”

  She closed her eyes. The dream of the lodge flashed through her mind. Mark said he had to leave and she couldn’t come with him.

  “Ma’am?”

  “I’m on my way.”

  She hung up, raced to the kitchen, and grabbed her keys. Her world had shattered and she was falling through the cracks.

  Susannah didn’t remember the drive to the hospital, or parking. She did remember sprinting through the double doors of the emergency room. A nurse ushered her into a small waiting room. A police officer was waiting.

  He nodded. “Mrs. Carlson, please sit down.”

  Susannah perched on the edge of the small couch. The door opened and a doctor came in. He stood next to the officer. The man’s somber countenance pre-announced Mark’s condition.

  “I am sorry I don’t have good news, Mrs. Carlson. Your husband’s internal injuries are too severe. He has been in a coma since arriving and has not regained consciousness. We do not expect he will.

  “However, before you see him, Officer Mullin needs a moment with you. When you are done, one of the nurses will take you to your husband.”

  He closed the door with a soft click.

  Officer Mullin cleared his throat. “There was a car pursuit. The criminal blew the light at North Foothills and Ruby Drive and rammed your husband’s car broadside.”

  Susannah closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “I saw an Amber Alert for a ten year old girl. Was it the same man?”

  “Yes.”

  Numbness spread from her heart, encapsulating her mind and body in a hard cocoon that kept the intense pain out ― for the moment.

  She nodded. “And the girl?”

  “In ICU, but expected to recover. The abductor is uninjured and currently in custody.”

  Mark dying, the little girl seriously hurt, and the monster survived without a scratch. Where was the justice in that?

  “Mrs. Carlson, is there anything I can do for you before I leave?”

  Susannah looked up at him and shook her head.

  The officer nodded and exited the room.

  Instantly a nurse appeared in the doorway. “Mrs. Carlson, if you would like to follow me, I will take you to your husband now.”

  She led Susannah to a small private room. “I’ll be just down the corridor if you need anything.”

  Susannah nodded and stepped inside.

  Mark’s face was swollen and bruised. Wires and tubes ran everywhere, connecting to various machines. She sat in the chair some kind soul had set next to the bed and held Mark’s hand to her cheek. She rubbed his arm and kissed his forehead. She smoothed his hair and kissed him again. The hours slid by, eight, nine, ten. Mark never opened his eyes, never returned the pressure on her hand. At ten minutes past ten, he stopped breathing and slipped away.

  Susannah bowed her head. The cocoon refused to let tears pass through its tough shell. They would eventually come, along with the intense pain, but not now, not in this public place. Later, she when alone in a private place, then Sorrow could enter and unpack her bags.

  The nurse opened the door. “Are you all right, Mrs. Carlson?”

  “Yes.”

  “Your parents are here. They’re waiting in the small conference room. After you sign a few forms, you are free to go.”

  Susannah stood, took one last look at Mark’s serene face, and followed the nurse out of the room. She stopped at the nurses’ station and signed the papers.

  Valerie and Ethan hurried over to her.

  Valerie hugged her. “Oh, Susannah. We are so sorry.”

  “Oh Mom, I can’t bear this.”

  Ethan looked as grief stricken as she. “Let’s go home and talk there.”

  Valerie nodded and took Susannah’s arm. “You’re coming home with us for tonight. Your dad’s going to take your car back to you house and pick up Buddy.”

  Susannah nodded and climbed into the passenger seat of her parent’s car.

  The streets were eerily quiet, but then at that hour most people were home, tucked in their beds. She looked up at the night sky. The stars reminded her of broken glass. When a heart shattered, was it possible to mend?

  She heard the old Indian’s voice. “All things are possible with God, Susannah.”

  I hope so, oh how I hope so.

  ***

  Susannah followed her mom up the front steps and into the house.

  Valerie paused just inside the door. “Go on down to the guest room, Susannah. Try to sleep.”

  Susannah walked down the hallway and stopped in the doorway to the pastel blue room. Her mom had been right with the color choice. It was soothing, peaceful.

  She slipped off her shoes and slid under the comforter. Closing her eyes, she allowed fatigue to drag her into sleep. At some point, Buddy jumped up next to her and cuddled close.

  “Susannah.”

  She opened her eyes.

  The old Indian stood next to the bed. “I have a gift for you.”

  A bright light spread across the room, enveloping her in warmth. Other souls stood in the light. She recognized her grandparents, beloved friends, and Mark. None spoke, yet their joy engulfed her, the same peace she experienced during her vision on Palm Sunday. She understood the gift. It was a small glimpse into what Mark was now experiencing. How could she begrudge him that joy?

  She cried out. “But, don’t leave me behind! Take me with you!”

  The old Indian shook his head. “No, Susannah. It is not your time. God still has plans for your life.”

  The faces of thousands of children paraded past in rapid succession and then vanished.

  The old Indian disappeared. The light receded, but not the peace. It lingered, joining Sorrow, blending the two emotions into a sweet bond.

  ***

  The bedroom door opened and Rachel peered into the room. “Are you awake?”

  Susannah pulled the comforter down and rolled over onto her side. “Yeah. Been awake for a bit, just haven’t rustled up enough energy t
o crawl out.”

  “Well, I brought coffee and rolls, thought we could have a moment together.” She moved over to the bed and hugged her friend. “There are no words to take away your pain, but just know that Frank and I love you. All you have to do is tell us what you need, and it’s done.”

  “Thank you, Rachel. But, I have all I need ― almost.”

  Her friend leaned back and studied her face. “Something happened.”

  “Yes. Something miraculous.”

  Rachel took Susannah’s hand and pulled her to her feet. “Tell me over coffee and rolls.”

  They sat at the small kitchen table. Sunshine poured through the large patio doors. The light reminded her of the old Indian’s gift.

  Still enveloped in that aura of peace, she sipped her coffee and nibbled on a sweet roll.

  “So,” Rachel said. “What was your miracle?”

  Susannah described the light, the peace, joy, ecstasy, and Mark.

  Rachel leaned back in her chair. “Wow.”

  “I know. I don’t know how long it will last, but I will cling to it for as long as I can.”

  Chapter Ten

  Susannah, accompanied by her parents, met with the funeral director that afternoon. She chose the cover and the wording for the program, selected the scripture for the liturgy, and picked out the music.

  The funeral director gently steered the conversation to the most difficult question. “Mrs. Carlson, do you want an additional plot, or would you prefer a Columbarium, a niche to hold the ashes?”

  “I’ll take one of the niches.”

  “Certainly.”

  “And, I’d like a private viewing for family and closest friends, then the cremation, and then the memorial service, followed by internment of the urn.”

  The funeral director nodded. “Anything else I can do for you?”

  “No.” Except bring my husband back.

  ***

  Susannah was at the funeral parlor before the doors opened at nine the morning of the viewing. She followed the attendant down a long hallway to a curtained doorway. He drew back the heavy drapes and stepped aside.

  She walked over to the plain pine casket and looked down at the body. “Oh, Mark, how am I supposed to go on? How can I continue to live? You were my life, and when you left, you took my life with you. I don’t want to go on. I don’t want to chase after any more monsters.” She swallowed a sob. “And yet, I can’t let the children die. Oh, God, what am I supposed to do? I can’t handle this. I can’t.”