Dangerous Passage

by Lisa Harris

  “So how are you doing? And I want the honest gut answer, not a flippant ‘I’m fine.’”

  “The honest answer? I feel . . . lost.” She ran her finger down the crease of her Bible. “I’ve been sitting here, reading my Bible, and trying to find answers. Looking for a why to what happened yesterday.”

  “And what answers have you found?”

  “Not answers as much as the familiar reminder that even though life is tough—sometimes even dark and horrible—that doesn’t change who God is. He’s still in control.”

  It was something easy to say but hard to truly grasp hold of and put into practice in her day-to-day life.

  “That’s something all of us need to be reminded of daily. What else?”

  She tapped her finger against the page she’d started reading. “I’ve never thought about comparing myself to King David, but in Psalm 18, he talks about pursuing his enemies. David was fighting a battle, and it struck me just how much I can relate.”

  She looked down at her Bible and glanced at the passage she’d been studying the past thirty minutes. “David talks about calling out to God in distress and crying for help.”

  “It does sound all too familiar, doesn’t it?”

  “Yes, considering yesterday I was ready to walk away from all of this.”

  “And today?”

  “Part of me still is.”

  “It’s the guilt for Mitch dying and your living. Guilt for what you could have done to save him. Anger toward the killer who’s still alive.”

  “That sums it up pretty well. But then I started looking at David’s reaction. He said, ‘You armed me with strength, you humbled my adversaries, you made my enemies turn their backs.’ David completely relied on God to be his shield and salvation when his enemies were hunting him down, when his life and the lives of others around him were at stake. I need to take this guy down, Daddy, and I realized today—not for the first time—that I can’t do it on my own.”

  “None of us can.”

  Avery slid the cloth bookmark into place, then closed the Bible. “There’s something else I’m struggling to do on my own. I didn’t tell you this, but Captain Peterson has ordered Mason Taylor to join our investigation.”

  “And you don’t want his help.”

  “I still believe he could be responsible for Michael’s death.”

  “Maybe, but that’s not the way the department sees it.”

  She shook her head. “Do you think he’s a dirty cop?”

  “He might have bent the rules a time or two, but he and Michael were close friends, and I can’t see him betraying Michael. For now, I think you’re going to have to trust him, especially if the captain has placed him on your team.”

  “I don’t think that’s something I can do. Trust has to be earned.”

  “Then you need to keep your head up and be on guard, but give him a chance. He’s admitted that wrong choices were made that day. But you know as well as I do that it’s a whole lot easier to make decisions in hindsight. You’re going to have to come to the place where you can forgive Mason.”

  “That’s going to be a tough place to find.”

  “Sometimes forgiveness becomes more like a daily choice. It’s messy and often continues rearing its head like the bindweed your grandfather could never get rid of.”

  “I’m not sure I even know how.”

  “You can’t. Not on your own. You’ve lost a lot. We all have, but the bottom line is that it’s human to want vengeance and justice in a situation. And if we can’t have that, we want the answers. Forgiveness is a messy process that takes time to sort through, but think about the alternative. You let bitterness take hold of you and it will ruin you. Your mother has let her loss consume her. I’ve had to think a lot about it over the past few months. I think there’s a good reason why Jesus told us that there shouldn’t be a limit to our forgiving.”

  Avery turned her father’s words around slowly in her mind and tried to process them. She knew he was right, but forgiving Mason seemed comparable to David slaying Goliath at the moment. “I can’t make any promises, except that I’ll try.”

  “I know you will, and in the end you’ll be a stronger person for it.”

  Her father pressed his fingers against the arms of the leather chair. “While we’re confessing, something you said the other night made me realize that I need to take my own advice regarding my retirement.”

  “What do you mean? Personally, you might still not be ready to embrace the idea of retirement, but I think it’s doing you good. You look far less stressed.”

  “I might not admit that in public, but you’re right, even though the first couple of weeks I thought I was going to go crazy. But I spent some time talking with your mother and Pastor Philip and a lot of time praying. What you and I talked about the other night confirmed some things I’ve been thinking about. I’m looking at starting a second career.”

  “A second career? Wow. I think that sounds great.” Avery curled her feet beneath her. “What exactly did you have in mind?”

  “I’ve been talking to the captain about working for the department again, but this time as a chaplain. Pastor Berg is moving to Texas to be closer to his grandchildren, and they’re looking for someone to take his place. It would mean I stay busy and feel as if I’m making a difference.”

  “You would be, and I think it sounds perfect for you.”

  “Well, you’re the one who reminded me that I’m not too old to start something new besides golf. You found room for Jackson. I’m going to find room for a new career.”

  Avery smiled at her father’s confession. “The challenge will be great for you.”

  Her father laughed. “I figure your mother and I have been volunteers with Downtown Rescue Mission for some twenty-odd years, so between all of the mentoring, counseling, and seminary classes I’ve taken on the side, I actually have experience in ministry that could be put to good use. I’ve already agreed to come in on Monday to be there for those involved in the shooting.”

  Avery felt the sting of the reminder. “Starting with your daughter?”

  “You know I’m always here for you.” Her father’s gaze dropped. “Which brings me to the next thing I wanted to talk to you about. I realized that just like it wouldn’t be right for me to ask you to walk away from Mitch’s case, neither is it right for me to ask you to walk away from Michael’s case.”

  “You have every right. Michael was your son—”

  “I know, but it’s also clear to me that you need this closure. And I respect your need to find out the truth about what happened to Michael.”

  “I promise to keep what I find quiet until I have some solid answers.”

  Avery’s phone rang. She hesitated before checking the caller ID. Unless it was from Tess or Jackson, she wasn’t going to answer.

  “Go ahead.” Her father nodded toward the phone. “Maybe it’s good news.”

  A moment later, Avery hung up the phone and grabbed for her shoes sitting beside her chair. “You were right. It was good news. We might have just gotten the break we needed in the case. A couple of officers just picked up Mrs. Sourn and had her brought back to the station.”

  Avery slipped on her shoes and was picking up her car keys and bag from the foyer when Jackson and Tess stepped into the house.

  “Hey.” Jackson’s gaze drifted to the keys dangling from her fingers. “You’re leaving?”

  “They just called me in. They found Mrs. Sourn.”

  “Mom. I thought you were supposed to be resting.”

  Avery pulled Tess against her in a big hug. “Sorry, sweetie. We just got a break in our case, but I promise I’ll be back as soon as possible.”

  “She’s right,” Jackson began. “You should be resting.”

  Avery frowned. “I need to go, Jackson. You know that.”

  “Then we’ll compromise. Let me drive you. We can pick up lunch on the way.”

  “You’ve already done so much—”

>   “No arguing.” He took the keys out of her hand. “And besides, I’m volunteering.”

  Her father stood in the doorway of the study. “Listen to the man, Avery.”

  “Okay. I will.” Avery laughed, then hugged her father and Tess good-bye before slipping out the front door with Jackson.

  “I appreciate your taking Tess to the house. I really did rest.”

  “I’m glad.”

  “Did you find Mrs. Whiskers?”

  “We did, and she’s now safe and sound back in her cage.”

  “She’s lucky. Where did you find her?”

  Jackson hesitated on the last stair and shot her a sheepish grin. “She was sleeping inside one of your slippers.”

  “Eww. She had to choose my room?”

  “We made sure she didn’t leave any . . . presents behind.”

  Avery laughed. “For that I’m grateful.”

  Jackson slipped into the driver’s seat and started the engine. “Are you sure you’re up to this?”

  “Yes. Just worried that we don’t have enough evidence to keep her.”

  Jackson’s phone rang. He put the car back into Park and took the call.

  A moment later, he turned to Avery. “I might have the evidence you need.”

  “What is it?”

  “The lab. Our CSU guys found blood on what they believe is the murder weapon from the Sourn house. They want me to come in and see if I can match it to our victim.”

  37

  Avery entered the precinct, needing to hear Mitch’s loud voice spouting off some stupid bit of trivia or a witty Marvel quote.

  Apparently you really are the one with the knack for getting into trouble, Mitch.

  A dose of Tylenol had taken the edge off her headache, but had done little to ease the roller coaster of emotions as the reality of her partner’s death began to close in around her.

  Carlos and Tory sat at their desks, working silently, while Avery stood in the middle of the room for a moment, searching for something to say. Anything that might help ease the haunting reality of what had happened.

  Tory spoke first. “Hey. The captain called us in, but I thought you were supposed to be off until tomorrow morning resting.”

  She caught the concern in Tory’s eyes, the same worry she’d seen in her father’s and Jackson’s eyes, but being back at the station had only proved to remind her that she wanted—needed—to be here working this case. “The captain wants me to be in on the interview with Mrs. Sourn.”

  Tory dropped her pen onto her desk. “How are you feeling?”

  Avery fought back the tears. “Like something’s missing. I’m ready for Mitch to walk through that door and say something crazy that makes me laugh.”

  Carlos let out a low chuckle. “He was always good for a laugh.”

  She studied Mitch’s empty desk. An unfinished pile of reports lay stacked haphazardly on the edge. The dirty Spider-Man mug with a coffee ring around the top sat beside the computer keyboard. In front of it was the half-empty glass jar of Milk Duds he kept especially for her. Nothing here had changed since the moment he walked out of this office the last time.

  For the rest of them, everything had changed.

  Tory pushed her chair back from her desk a couple of inches and pressed her palms against her thighs. “Avery?”

  Avery tried to ignore the lump swelling in her throat. It was either that or start crying again. “I’m just trying to process the fact that he’s really gone.”

  “We . . . we all are.” Carlos’s voice broke. “Have they settled on a date for the funeral?”

  “Yeah, I talked to Kayleigh this morning. It’ll be Wednesday morning, in order to give family time to get here. My father will deliver the eulogy.”

  Tory shook her head. “I hate funerals. They always make me wonder why we don’t say all those nice things to people while they’re still alive.”

  “You’re right, you know. It’s too easy to take each other for granted.” It was hitting each of them differently, but it was up to her to keep them focused. “We were . . . we are a good team. And if Mitch were here, he’d want me to tell you both that.”

  “And he would want us to close this case before anyone else died,” Tory added.

  Carlos stared at Mitch’s desk. “He’d tell us that there’s a hero in all of us, that keeps us honest, gives us strength, makes us noble. And finally gets us to die with pride. May Parker. Spider-Man 2.”

  The quote struck a chord. Honest, strong, and a hero. Mitch had been all those things. “I guess Mitch rubbed off on us more than I realized.”

  Movement in the doorway caught Avery’s attention. The ache threatening to engulf her morphed into irritation. “Mason?”

  “The captain called me in.” Mason walked slowly into the room, as if he knew he was stepping into enemy territory. “Listen, I haven’t had the chance to tell you how sorry I am about Mitch’s death. I know that all of you were close.”

  Just like you and my brother used to be.

  She squelched the thought.

  She dug for a grain of forgiveness, but came up lacking. Sometimes it was just so hard. “It’s going to take some time to realize that he’s really not coming back.”

  “And,” he continued, “I know that you’re only letting me work with you on this case because of Captain Peterson’s orders, but I really think I can help.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  “Carlos and I were planning to go get some coffee.” Tory signaled to Carlos. “Can we get either of you anything?”

  “I’m fine.” Avery nodded her thanks. No matter what she thought about the situation, she was going to have to include Mason in the investigation. But before they got started, there were things that needed to be said.

  Tory looked at Mason.

  “I’m good. Thanks.”

  Avery waited until Carlos and Tory left the room. “I guess it’s time we attempted to clear the air between us.”

  “Your feelings toward me since Michael’s death have never been a secret, and I’m going to assume that nothing has changed in the past twenty-four hours. So let’s get it out in the open. Ask me whatever you want, and I’ll give you an honest answer.”

  “Okay. Let’s start with why you were working undercover in the Sourns’ business, and what you know that might help my case.”

  “I was working on the case in conjunction with an ongoing FBI investigation.” Mason caught her gaze. “We were looking for evidence that would bring down a major arms network working primarily out of Asia and the Middle East that we believe has connections to Sourn’s business. My role as an undercover employee was to tape conversations, track the guns, collect whatever evidence I could, and eventually help to take down as many as we could.”

  Operation Stronghold.

  She’d spent a couple hours last night going over the files and reports she had, but she needed to hear things from Mason firsthand. “What were you doing at the warehouse yesterday?”

  “We found out that there was a shipment of illegal weapons going out, and I was able to arrange to be one of the drivers. Two million dollars in M-16s, handguns, and ammo from India and headed for Mexico. I was planning to make the run in order to take down both the sellers and the buyers.”

  “Why were the guns loaded?”

  “An associate of the buyer showed up unexpectedly to inspect the guns to ensure that his boss was getting what was agreed on. He was in the process of doing that when you arrived. If I had known a raid was being planned . . .”

  So Mitch’s death was reduced to nothing more than a series of unfortunate events?

  Avery leaned back against her desk. Trust was something earned. Forgiveness a messy process. But what if everything about Mason’s story added up? What if she’d been wrong about what happened at the warehouse and Michael’s death?

  For now, she had no choice but to shove the lingering doubts aside. Mitch was dead, and they had a job to do.

  “As for S
ourn,” Mason continued, “I’ve spent the past few months getting to know the players and getting them to trust me. I know who’s involved, which means you need me as much as I need you. We have a chance to take down this entire network if we work together.”

  “What do you know about what’s happening right now?”

  “A couple of hours ago, two uniforms pulled Mrs. Sourn over for speeding, about a hundred and twenty miles northeast of Atlanta on I-85 toward Charlotte. They realized that there was a BOLO out on her and brought her in.”

  “Why was she heading for Charlotte?”

  “She hasn’t said. She insisted on speaking to her lawyer first.”

  “She could have been planning to meet her husband, or maybe just trying to get across state lines.”

  Carlos and Tory stepped back into the office, coffee in hand.

  Avery fought the nagging frustration gnawing in her gut. “The four of us are going to have to work together if we’re going to bring down Sourn and his people. Tory, I need you to try to track down any land or property belonging to the Sourns or their company.”

  “I’m on it.”

  “Carlos, what about the forensic evidence from the searches of the Sourns’ property? As of this moment, I’m walking in there with little or no solid evidence that will tie Mrs. Sourn to the crime. Follow up with the lab and see if you can get us some leverage—”

  “I might have something.” Tory sat back down at her desk and clicked on a file. “When you came in, I was digging through some of the city’s surveillance videos. I’ve been waiting to hear back from a contact.”

  Tory printed out something, then handed Avery a black-and-white photo. “This was taken Monday morning just after two.”

  “This just might do it.” Avery smiled and stuck the photo into her file before heading toward the door. “Let me know if you hear from forensics. And in the meantime, we’ll hope this gives us the leverage we need to gain a confession.”

  Avery walked toward the interrogation room with Mason, wondering how she’d come to the place where she was working a case with a man she’d been trying to convict for the past few months.

  Mason strode down the hallway beside her. “I hope you know that I want to take down Sourn as badly as you do.”