The number of homes that could burn in the process might reach into the thousands, according to officials. Already — because of the shifting winds and the amount of dry brush in the Las Virgenes hills, the fire had the potential to be one of the area’s worst ever — and one of the most violent. The suspects had shot the security guard, then Clay, and finally Bo. Joe had told Jamie all the details he knew. The security guard was in surgery, but he was going to be okay. No one was sure about Bo.
“This just in regarding the deadly fire burning out of control in the Las Virgenes Canyon area,” the announcer interrupted Jamie’s thoughts. “A spokesperson for the sheriff’s department says that at this very moment they have a K9 officer and a suspect trapped on a fire road somewhere on the mountain.” Her voice took on a grave tone. “Officials are doing everything they can to make a rescue, but the flames are too intense and the terrain too rugged for emergency vehicles. We’ll keep you posted as we receive developments on this tragic story.”
“Dear God … no, please.” Jamie whispered the desperate words. “Eric, we need to pray.”
Eric kept his eyes on the road, but he reached out and took her hand. “God … we need a miracle. We think Alex is trapped, but you know right where he is.” Eric’s voice was tense, and his mouth sounded dry. “Be with him, please … clear the fire in a way that only you can do.”
After the prayer, Jamie wanted to call someone — Joe or another of the SWAT guys, because like before she knew that the officer trapped on the hillside had to be Alex. He must’ve gone back into the flames after the suspect, and now … God, he has so much to live for … give him a miracle. Put up a hedge of protection around him and stop the flames from reaching him. Get him out, God … please.
She pictured Alex trapped in the middle of a firestorm, and the image made her sick to her stomach. She couldn’t think about it, not now when she was so worried about Clay. Alex would be okay … he had to be okay. She’d be at the hospital soon, a few minutes at the most. She was anxious to be with Clay, to touch him and see for herself that he was going to be okay.
Outside her car, the wind felt worse than before, and all along the freeway they were passed by fire trucks and emergency vehicles. A shudder ran through her arms. This moment felt eerily like seven years ago when she raced to a New York hospital in search of Jake. Only that time, the person fighting for life in the hospital bed hadn’t been Jake — but Eric Michaels. This was different, everything about it. They’d already been through so much. She couldn’t imagine losing Clay now, not Clay or Alex. Eric turned into the hospital parking lot, and she had to blink so she could see the building clearly, that it was Los Robles Medical Center and not the hospital in New York City. It’s not the same … this is a different day, God, help me hold onto the truth. This isn’t 9/11.
Daughter, breathe … my peace I give to you … I don’t give as the world gives …
Eric parked the car, jumped out, and hurried to her side. He helped her to her feet and led her across the parking lot. The whole time she kept thinking about the gentle response to her prayer, the words about peace. God’s peace. That was exactly what she needed right now. Whatever happened today, no one could take that away from her. As she walked, she willed herself to believe that very soon God would grant a miracle for her and for Clay.
And especially for Alex.
The flames were right on top of them now, and Alex wondered if they might die from the heat before the fire reached them. He’d radioed down to the command station, but it hadn’t done any good. The inferno was too deep and wide, too all-consuming for any of the firefighters to reach him. His only hope was a helicopter, and so far he hadn’t seen a single drop of fire retardant. That wasn’t surprising, really. The helicopters were already in use, so after his first call it could’ve taken fifteen minutes or more to get a drop overhead.
He was still on his knees, his face still raised to the burning sky. He’d lost out on seven years of talking to God, doing the thing his father had taught him to do. Seven years of being angry at the God who had created him and given him his family — even if that wonderful life hadn’t lasted as long as Alex wanted. This was only the bus stop, right? Wasn’t that what his father used to say? The great and joyous life everlasting was on the other side. His father had taught him that, and now it was what Alex once more believed. What he had always believed, even while he let his pain and sorrow cloud out the truth. Seven years were gone, but every second he had left in this life, he would spend talking to God.
Thank You, Lord … because I feel You here in this inferno. I feel Your peace and Your forgiveness, Your salvation and certainty. I never should’ve blamed You, God … He opened his eyes, and the fire was almost close enough to touch. The suspect in the back was quiet now, uttering only an occasional whimper, too terrified to speak.
Alex could die and be with his dad and his Heavenly Father, now that he had made his peace with God. He would finish well, far better than he would’ve if this had been a sudden accident or a bullet to his head, the bullet Bo took. But he had one regret, one area where he had failed. And once he was dead he would never have the chance to make it up again.
His regret was Holly.
As her sweet face filled his heart and soul, he used his final breaths to ask God one more time: “Please, Lord …” he yelled into the roaring fire, “Please save us! Let me have another chance. I have so much time to make up for, God … please!”
The noise around him grew louder, as if a speeding freight train was bearing down on them, about to crush them. My son … I have loved you with an everlasting love … I know the plans I have for you, plans to prosper you and not to harm you. The words were in the wind, in the fire, as clearly as if God had stepped down into this terrible moment and spoken them directly to Alex.
He gripped the edge of his truck and lifted himself off his knees so he could see better. A rushing sound added to the noise, and a strange sensation came over Alex, like the atmosphere itself was changing. Something was happening, something with the wind. Around the truck the burning embers swirled and danced and gusted in every direction, and then suddenly, strangely, the fire blew hard to the west and lifted. Alex brought his fist to his mouth. God, it can’t be … it isn’t possible …
Ahead of them, the fire road was suddenly and instantly clear again, the blaze raising several stories high on the right side, but reduced to almost nothing on the left. Hope shot straight through him, and Alex didn’t hesitate. This was a miracle, nothing less. God had created a path, and this time he was going to take it. He hurled himself behind the wheel and started the engine.
“Go … drive!” The guy in the backseat must’ve seen the hole in the flames.
Alex didn’t respond. The miracle in front of them was a gift from God, and if the Lord had opened the hole, He would keep it open long enough for them to get down the mountain. Alex drove with a single-mindedness and purpose that he hadn’t known since before September 11. God had set him free. Not just from the fire, but from himself — and both kinds of freedom could only have come from the Lord.
It took several minutes to get to the bottom of the hill, and as he did he grabbed his radio again. “We made it through. Have SWAT waiting.”
For the first time since the fire lifted, the arsonist fell silent, probably with the realization that for him, things had only just started heating up. The charges that would be filed against him would put him away forever, Alex was pretty sure. He reached the bottom just as Joe stepped out of his squad car.
Alex got the suspect out of his truck as fast as he could and handed him over to Joe. “I already read him his rights, and I’ll write my report after I check on Bo.” He didn’t want to spend another minute being angry or full of rage. The system would take care of Owl and his buddy. Alex had more important matters at hand, desperate life or death matters. He waited until Joe had the suspect cuffed in the backseat of his car, then Alex took hold of his friend’s arm. “How’s Clay?”
“He’s in surgery, but it looks good.” Joe hesitated, squinting against the blowing wind and smoke. “What happened up there, Brady? You look different.”
Alex laughed just once, the sort of laugh that told his friend there wasn’t enough time to explain it all right now. “I’m still trying to believe it.” He kept his eyes on Joe but started walking back to his truck. “I shouldn’t be here; let’s just say that.” He climbed into his truck and shut the door. Through the open window he yelled once more to Joe as he peeled off toward the main road. “I’ve gotta go see my dog.”
As he drove, he kept both his windows down. The night wind was smoky and warm, but it was fresher than anything he’d been breathing up on the mountain. He let the wind dust off the grit and ashes that covered his face and tried to get his mind around what had just happened. He should be dead, in heaven with his father. But God had heard his cry and granted him the precious gift he’d begged for.
More time.
It was just after four in the morning, still dark outside. He would get to the vet hospital and see how Bo was doing, and sometime before sunup he would tell Holly everything he should’ve told her years ago. She had probably moved on by now, and there was nothing he could do about that. But she needed to know what had happened on the hill, how he’d come face-to-face with the same kind of terrorist-set inferno that had killed his father, and in that horrifying moment the impossible had happened.
He’d found his faith in God again.
A wholeness filled his soul, and Alex felt the same freedom he’d experienced in the midst of the fire. He didn’t need to be so driven any longer. He could capture the bad guys, because that was his job, and it was one he would always enjoy. But he couldn’t capture the evil around him. It was a pervasive part of life, and would be that way until Jesus returned. The only evil he could address — like Clay had told him — was the evil within himself.
Something he planned to spend the next few hours working on.
TWENTY-NINE
Holly had been sitting in the waiting room a long time, too long. By now someone should’ve come out and told her that the dog was okay, that he was out of surgery and they’d stitched him up. The silence couldn’t be a good sign. But since she had no one to talk to, and since she was worried sick that Alex was stuck in the fire at the top of the mountain, she used the time to pray.
Funny how she’d resisted a relationship with God for so many years, how she’d let her faith grow cold to the point that she no longer wanted to go to church and sometimes doubted God even existed, but here … in the face of intense tragedy, surrounded by the greatest fear she’d known since 9/11, prayer came as easily as her next heartbeat.
She prayed for Bo and for Alex and for Alex’s friend — the other sheriff’s deputy. Once she’d done that, she felt fresh tears on her cheeks and she did what she should’ve done long ago. She asked God to forgive her for walking away, for letting her love for Him grow cold.
Of course I believe in You, God … she uttered the words silently, and as she did they cast a flicker of light in the dark halls of her soul, where the sun hadn’t shone for far too long. I’m sorry, God … I need You here with me. Please, God … let me know You’re here.
As she finished that part of her prayer, a janitor entered the otherwise empty waiting room. Holly felt awkward, sitting by herself and crying. She pulled a tissue from her purse and dabbed it beneath her eyes. There was something peculiar about the janitor, something in his stature or mannerisms. Holly watched him, trying to figure it out. The man was small and hunched, with white thinning hair that poked out from beneath a Yankees baseball cap. A name tag on his flannel shirt read only “Max.”
Holly was drawn to the man, but she had no idea why. He didn’t seem to notice her as he set to work, lifting the mop into a bucket of water, wringing out the excess, and then flinging it onto the floor. She watched him intently, trying to figure out why he looked so familiar, why his actions seemed so peculiar. He was five minutes into the job when he suddenly stopped and looked straight at her. “You … you’re a believer?”
Holly was startled by his question. She was tempted to look over her shoulder, in case he was talking to someone else, but she recovered long enough to point subtly at herself. “Me?”
“Yes.” The man smiled, and again there was something different about him, almost otherworldly. “Are you a believer?”
“I am.” This time Holly didn’t hesitate. “I was just praying.” Emotion spilled into her voice. “It’s been a long night.”
“You were involved in the fire.” It wasn’t a question. He rested on the handle of his mop, his eyes looking almost through her.
“Yes. I was.” Holly wondered how the man could’ve known that detail. Did she smell that strongly of smoke? Or was her face smudged with ashes? She searched the man’s face, trying to figure him out. Maybe she’d seen him before, at the townhouses where she lived or at the market.
He smiled at her, his eyes boring into hers. “The Lord wants you to know something … He’s never going to leave you or forsake you. No matter what happens, no matter how long.”
Holly sucked in a quick breath, and it stuck in her throat. A dozen questions came at her, but before she could voice a single one, the janitor tipped the rim of his baseball cap and shuffled off down the hallway.
As soon as he was gone, she realized something had changed — she wasn’t afraid anymore. Sad for the injured dog, deeply concerned about Alex, but she could feel the presence of God with her, and she remembered something her mom had told her not long ago. You don’t have to feel God to know He’s with you. The Bible tells us God is with us, and that’s all the proof we need to know. It’s a fact. Feelings or no feelings.
For years God had been with her, but Holly hadn’t wanted to feel His presence, hadn’t sought Him out or thought to talk to Him for any length of time. Even so, God had been with her — the same way He so clearly was with her now. She had asked God to let her know He was here, and he’d sent Max, the janitor.
She glanced at the check-in desk, at the two women and one man in white coats working on various computers. The doctor and his assistant hadn’t been seen since Bo was wheeled in, and again that told Holly the situation couldn’t be good. There had to be some kind of news on Alex’s dog, but still no one had come out to talk to her. She prayed some more, but then her prayers did something she hadn’t expected them to do. They took her back to the time before 9/11, when she and Alex were sure about life and love and even forever.
A door sounded at the other end of the waiting room, and Holly looked up to see the doctor enter. He was moving slowly, his face grim, and he stopped a few feet from her. “Ms. Brooks?”
She was on her feet, her heart pounding. Like everyone involved in the fire, she was exhausted and drained. As she watched the doctor she felt faint, and she steadied the back of her legs against the sofa where she’d been sitting. She looked into the doctor’s eyes and she knew, she knew before he said a word.
“About Bo … the news isn’t good.”
Holly wanted to stop him there, because if something happened to Alex’s dog, then maybe Alex would never recover. She remembered the newspaper article, the stoic, cold look on Alex’s face and the dog at his side. Holly had no idea how long they’d worked together, but Alex’s love for Bo had been obvious tonight. She wanted to run, leave the waiting room and let the news fall on someone else’s ears. Because hours ago she’d allowed herself the faintest hope that in finding each other again, Alex might also find himself. That together they would both find the God who would never leave them nor forsake them. But that hope would be gone forever if something happened to Alex’s dog.
No matter what Max the janitor had said.
Bo was going to be okay. By the time Alex wheeled his Dodge into the parking lot of the veterinarian hospital, he had convinced himself. Dogs bled out much faster than people, so if the bullet had gotten him in one of his major organs o
r an artery, he would’ve died long before they reached the ambulance. As he drove, Alex thought about calling for an update, but he didn’t have Holly’s number, and there was no time to grab his phone and call information.
Better just to drive and get there.
Alex parked and ran from his car up a few steps to the front door. The place wasn’t very big, and the waiting room was empty except for Holly and …
He stopped and stared at the scene taking place before his eyes. Holly was crying, her fingers covering her face, and the doctor had his hand on her shoulder. No, God … he took a step back, because this couldn’t be happening. This wasn’t the end. He could run back out to his truck, drive home, and there would be Bo, sleeping near the front door waiting for his return. The whole thing was a mistake, right? It had to be.
Holly must’ve heard him, because she turned and looked at him, her eyes red and swollen, her face twisted in sorrow.
“No …” he shoved his hands into the back pockets of his jeans and shook his head as he looked from her to the doctor. “Not Bo … don’t tell me.” He briefly noticed the workers behind the front desk discreetly leave for some back part of the building. They were giving him privacy so that … so that …
“Alex.” Holly’s arms were crossed and she was gripping her elbows, her whole body shaking.
“Mr. Brady,” the doctor was walking toward him.
Alex shook his head again and turned toward the door. He wasn’t here, not in a vet hospital with Bo on the other side of the waiting room. He squeezed his eyes closed and grabbed a fistful of his own hair. He wasn’t here. He was at headquarters, and his sergeant was ushering him into a small room where a striking young German shepherd was standing at attention, his ears forward, and the sergeant was saying, “Alex, I’d like you to meet your new partner.” He blinked and shook his head, refusing to hear anything from anyone, and there he and Bo were at the far end of a grassy field at the training center, seven hundred and ten hours into training. A dozen officers were giving hand signs to their respective K9 partners, and every dog was messing up. Every dog but Bo. Then he was at home a few months later, looking for the TV remote so he could watch the Dodgers game before he went to bed, and there was Bo trotting into the room from the back of the condo, the remote in his mouth, and he was cocking his head, looking at Alex as if to say, “I’m here for you, friend. Anything you need, I’m here.”
Remember Tuesday Morning Page 25