“We’re in a crawl space off the back bedroom,” she whispered into her radio. “Second floor. The window above the porch roof, on the left. Get the shooter to the front and keep him there. I’ll bring Zoe out.”
“I’m coming to you.”
But even as the bullhorn called to Billy, she heard footsteps coming up the inside stairs again. Adrenaline poured through her. She squeezed Zoe and whispered, “Shh . . . shh.”
Kenzie focused on the small access door. She could hear someone enter the room. Then she heard a strange sound, a liquid splashing rhythmically, like the person was intentionally spreading something. And then she smelled it. Gasoline.
32
He’s going to torch the place, Kenzie thought. Create a diversion as a way of escaping. And burn them alive.
No, he isn’t. Kenzie put her gun down, flicked on her small flashlight, and lifted Zoe off her lap, putting her back in a corner of the eaves. She held her finger to her lips to tell her to be quiet, and Zoe nodded, her eyes big. Then Kenzie pocketed her flashlight and gripped her gun.
The door to the crawl space swung outward. Counting to three, she kicked it open. She crouched in the opening. Billy stood six feet away in the doorway of the room, a lighted rag in his hand. Behind him sat a gas can.
“FBI, move back!” Kenzie yelled as she stood up. The smell of gasoline almost overpowered her. She held her gun in both hands, her arms extended, and she focused on her gun sights. Her stomach clenched. She stayed focused. “Move back!” she said again. And then Billy smiled a slow, deranged smile, and threw the burning rag at her.
She got off four shots, bang-bang-bang-bang, before the room exploded in a ring of fire. Zoe screamed. Billy clutched his chest, stumbled backward, and slid down the wall, leaving a trail of blood.
Kenzie holstered her gun. “Zoe, come here!” The room, ablaze with yellow and orange fire, quickly became an inferno. The smoke attacked Kenzie’s lungs and tears filled her eyes. She reached into the crawl space and grabbed the terrified little girl. Within seconds, the heat had become unbearable as the fire caught the dry wood of the old cabin. Flames licked at her legs. Thick, gray smoke filled her lungs. Clutching Zoe to her chest, trying to shield her from the flames, Kenzie moved toward the window, crouching down to get closer to the floor. Her eyes were stinging. Zoe choked, unable to breathe. Kenzie reached out. Her hand touched the wall and she moved to the right. The window—where was it?
Then she felt it. With the fire roaring in her ears, she pushed Zoe through the opening into the fresh air. The flames tore at her back. Her legs were stinging from the heat. She looked down. Her pant leg had caught on fire! She kicked her leg against the wall, trying to snuff it out, and stepped out onto the sloping roof, still holding Zoe. Her foot slipped. She lost her balance, fell, and began sliding. “Zoe!” she yelled, gripping the girl with one hand and grasping for a hold with the other.
“I’ve got her! I’ve got her!”
Crow!
He grabbed Zoe’s arm with one hand and Kenzie with the other. “Let go! I’ve got Zoe!” he said.
Through tearing eyes, Kenzie saw Crow swing Zoe down off the roof into the waiting arms of a SWAT team member. By then, Kenzie lay half off the roof herself, her legs extending out into mid-air, her pants still smoking. She gripped the edge and her eyes met Crow’s. “Hold on, girl,” he said softly, “hold on!”
Then other hands grabbed her legs. “Watch her!” she heard Crow say, and she let go of the roof, and let herself fall into the arms of two SWAT team members. She was out. She was safe. And so was Zoe.
Thank you, Jesus.
The downpour began as she sat in the back of a four-wheel drive Sheriff’s Office vehicle. Zoe sat buckled in next to her. The little girl had plastered herself as close as she could get to Kenzie, who stroked her head and talked softly to her between coughing spasms. They both smelled like smoke. A sheriff’s deputy would drive them down off the mountain, to a helicopter waiting to whisk Zoe away to a nearby hospital.
Kenzie glanced back and saw that the entire second floor of the cabin was engulfed in flames. The falling rain vaporized as it hit the hot roof, adding rising steam to the billowing smoke, creating an otherworldly atmosphere as lightning flashed and thunder rumbled. Her head hurt, her legs hurt, but she had little Zoe Grable sitting safely next to her.
Crow climbed into the passenger seat on the other side, and Zoe pressed herself tighter to Kenzie’s side.
“Hey, sport,” Crow said, patting her knee, “you are one brave little girl.”
Zoe looked up at Kenzie. “He’s a good guy,” Kenzie assured her, and she coughed again.
“Take us down, Mack,” Crow said, patting the back of the driver’s seat.
The SUV began bumping down the dirt road. Tears of gratitude sprang to Kenzie’s eyes. They were safe. They had Zoe. Thank God, thank God! “What about Scott?” she asked Crow.
“He’ll make it.” Crow sat turned in the seat, facing the little girl, and he had his medical kit next to him. “Zoe,” he said in a soft voice, “I’ve got to check now to see if I can remember how to count. Will you help me?” She looked at him skeptically, but he gently took her wrist and found her pulse and began counting out loud. “One, three, two . . .” he said, and Zoe solemnly corrected him. “Oh, OK,” he said, “one, two, three. Is that better?”
Zoe nodded.
“OK, now let’s see if I can hear.” He pulled out his stethoscope and placed it on her chest. “Thump, thump . . . thump, thump.” Zoe smiled a little.
“I don’t think she is burned at all,” Crow commented. He glanced up at Kenzie. “You protected her well.”
Thank God.
By the time Crow got to the finger prick so he could take Zoe’s blood-sugar reading, he had built up her trust. Zoe only whimpered once. He quickly comforted her. Crow’s eyes met Kenzie’s. They were deep pools of emotion. “Her blood sugar is two hundred. High, but not too bad. Everything else is good, too.” He shook his head. “Wow.”
“Are you an Indian?” Zoe asked in a tiny voice.
“Yep.”
“Are you a medicine man?”
“Sort of,” he responded. “Want to hear me speak Indian?” Zoe nodded, and Crow began saying something in Navajo. As he did, he looked at Kenzie, full in the face.
“What did you say?” Kenzie asked.
He winked at her. “Tell you later.”
A warm rush filled her and she pressed her lips together as tears flooded her eyes. Yes, something had changed. Thank you, God.
Twenty-five minutes later Kenzie stepped out of the SUV onto a steaming asphalt road. Zoe, completely charmed by Crow, wanted him to hold her until she saw her father. Senator Grable emerged from a black Bureau car and raced to his daughter, tears streaming down his face.
“Daddy!” Zoe cried, and he swept her into his arms.
“Oh, Zoe . . . thank God, thank God!” the senator cried.
The storm had moved east. The bright, setting sun had peeked out from under the clouds and was bathing the hill in a golden light. Rain dripped from nearby trees and the drainage ditch that ran next to the road and down the mountain churned with runoff. All around them, police cars and FBI vehicles sat, lights flashing, parked in hurried disarray, their drivers scattered like chessmen over the field, watching.
Then Kenzie’s jaw dropped as Beth stepped out of the car. The fashionable former sorority girl had close-cropped her beautiful blonde hair, so she looked just like Zoe.
“Mommy!” Zoe cried. Senator Grable handed the little girl to Beth, and soon the two were laughing and rubbing each other’s head.
As she watched, teary herself, a collection of images, like flashing scenes from a hyped-up movie trailer, played over and over in Kenzie’s mind. Zoe on the roof, the tiny closet, the smell of gasoline, the fire erupting from the end of her gun as she shot Billy, the sound of it firing, her hands jerking, blood splashing, and then . . . the inferno.
The last image w
as Crow . . . Crow, on the porch railing of the cabin grabbing onto her to keep her from falling. He was walking up to her now, a water bottle in his hand, his face broadened by a smile, his black hair glistening in the sunlight. “Here,” he said, handing the bottle to her.
Behind him, the EMTs were ushering Zoe and Beth Grable to the waiting helicopter. Kenzie thought it sweet the senator had encouraged Beth to go in the chopper with Zoe. Maybe some good could come from all this. Maybe they could work things out.
She thanked Crow, unscrewed the cap, and took a drink. He insisted she have her lungs and the burns on her legs checked at the hospital, but she refused to go in an ambulance. Finally, he said he’d take her himself, and she was being a pain, but he was grinning at the time, and she knew he didn’t mind at all.
“I asked them about Scott,” Crow said, motioning toward the crew of the Medevac helicopter. “He stayed fully conscious all the way to the shock/trauma unit in Baltimore. They had him on fluids and morphine, and the docs at the hospital were preparing for surgery. They’re bringing in an arm specialist from Johns Hopkins.”
“Can we go see him?”
“After you’re cleared.”
Alicia had already driven off with the senator in a Bureau SUV, lights flashing, taking him to the hospital where they were transporting Zoe. Scattered around the landing area, other agents and cops stood watching the bird lift off. Crow took a long, slow look around, as if to make sure no one else was close to them. He crossed his arms and shifted his weight, until his bicep was touching her upper arm. She felt it and didn’t move away. The throbbing of the chopper blades intensified.
The bird lifted up, heading south. Crow, watching, said, “Seeing you come out of that smoky cabin with Zoe in your arms was beautiful. A miracle! When I saw you, something shifted within me. All I could say was ‘thank you God, thank you, God.’ ”
Kenzie looked at him. “I felt so grateful you were there.”
Below them, rescue workers began packing up their gear, and cops and agents were getting in their cars.
Kenzie shifted her weight and asked the question that had been running through her mind. “Could he have known? Scott? He seemed to have had a premonition.” She pulled the paper out of her pocket, the one with the Scripture verse on it, and showed it to Crow . . . when you walk through the fire you shall not be burned, and the flame shall not consume you.
“He gave it to me on the drive up from Washington. Could he have known?” she asked again.
Crow shook his head. “I don’t know.” He laughed softly. “There’s a lot I don’t know.” He looked at her, his black eyes shining. “You are an amazing woman, a strong and beautiful woman, a naataanii, a leader, and I’m proud of you. And I’d like to get to know you better. I’d like to take you hiking on Old Rag Mountain and canoeing on the Rappahannock. And I’d like to show you my home, the Reservation. I’m glad we worked on this together, Kenzie. Maybe more people than Zoe were rescued.”
Tears began streaming down her face.
Epilogue
Kenzie trotted up the steps to her mother’s house. She hadn’t called first. For some reason, she’d wanted to spend the hour and a half trip from Baltimore to D.C. in silence, just thinking, processing the events of the last few days, reveling in the successes, mourning the failures. She didn’t want a conversation with her mother to interrupt that.
While her burns were checked at the local hospital, Scott had undergone three hours’ worth of surgery in Baltimore to pin his arm back together. He’d spent a day or so in intensive care, but the doctors expected him to fully recover. His family was with him. In fact, Kenzie had a great picture of him in bed with his daughter, Cara, curled up next to him, their matching pink casts brightening up the room.
John Crowfeather was filling the director in on the resolution of the case. Grayson Chambers was dead in the burned-out cabin. The ME prelim said he’d died of smoke inhalation. Billy was dead, too. His body had dropped down when the second floor of the cabin collapsed but it was clear that three of Kenzie’s four bullets had found their mark. The fourth suspect had fled the burning structure, but not soon enough: Agents and police had easily captured him in the woods.
Zoe would be fine. She was in Children’s Hospital in D.C., her parents at her side, undergoing treatment from one of the foremost pediatric diabetes specialists in the nation.
The only unhappy law enforcement official was the assistant U.S. attorney charged with prosecuting the influence-peddling case against Senator Grable. He was furious the director had ignored his warning that assigning Kenzie to the Zoe kidnapping case would mess up his case against Grable.
Ah, well, Kenzie thought.
She knocked on the dark oak door of her mother’s home. She inhaled the scent of the boxwoods on either side of the porch, the smell of her childhood. Seconds later, the door swung open.
“Well! You certainly picked an inconvenient time to show up,” her mother said. She was dressed in a beige silk suit, high heels, and her hair was swept up in a French knot. “My bridge club is here!”
“I’m sorry, Mom,” Kenzie said, stepping in. “I just came to get Jack.”
“He’s in the backyard. I had no idea how much hair dogs left around.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Mackenzie, whatever did you do to your eyebrows? Gracious!”
Kenzie walked from the front door straight down the hallway to the kitchen, being careful not to interrupt the conversation going on in the dining room. The bridge ladies took their game seriously. She opened the back door and looked around. There, lying in the cool earth under a hydrangea bush, lay her dog. He looked asleep.
“Jack!” she called. The black-and-white spaniel’s head flew up. “Where’s your ball?” He leaped to his feet. He threw himself at her, jumping on her and licking her. He turned in circles at her feet as she petted him. “You missed me, didn’t you?” Kenzie thrust her hands into Jack’s soft coat, relishing the feel of his fur. “I missed you, too,” she said, and she thumped his side. “I really, really missed you.” She knelt down and he kissed her on the chin. She wrestled with him in the grass, pushing him, tackling him, and grabbing his muzzle, and he wiggled with delight.
Then she lay down, and looked up into the bright blue sky. He snuggled next to her, and she stroked him. She felt his soft fur, smelled the hydrangeas, and relished the warm sun. She felt very aware of the burns on her legs, burns that would take time to heal, burns that reminded her of her walk through the fire.
“Oh, God,” she said out loud, “thank you. Thank you so much!”
And she squeezed Jack a little harder, and he licked her face, and she laughed. “There’s this guy,” she began, “named Crow, and you’ll like him . . .”
Discussion Questions
1. Kenzie had a difficult childhood, marred by her father’s death and her mother’s emotional abuse. How did she compensate? What are some other ways people cope with childhood loss or pain?
2. Kenzie recalled watching the Perseid meteor showers with her father. What’s a favorite childhood memory of yours?
3. Scott was quite open and unabashed about his faith. Have you ever known someone like that? How did you feel around him or her?
4. What problems do you have openly living your faith in your day-to-day life? How do you decide what’s appropriate and what’s not?
5. Crow had suffered the loss of his beloved fiancée in Iraq. How did he react? Would you consider that healthy? Why or why not?
6. If you had a friend who had suffered a loss like that, what would your advice be?
7. Crow and Kenzie were opposites in many ways. Were you ever in a relationship (friendship or romantic) with someone who was really different? What were the benefits? The challenges? How do we cross cultural barriers in friendships?
8. Both Kenzie and Crow were reserved in their relationships to God, skeptical even. But Crow admitted, “If what Scott and my grandfather say about God is true, then it isn’
t just true for them, and it isn’t a matter of it ‘working’ for them. It’s a matter of reality.” How certain are you about your faith? What do you know for sure? And what do you have questions about?
9. If you are a believer, what one incident in your life propelled you toward faith in Christ?
10. Kenzie had a strong fear of spiders. What are you most afraid of? And how do you cope with that?
11. Who was your favorite character in this book? Why?
12. Do you think there’s hope for the Grables’s marriage? Why or why not? What would your advice be to them?
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We hope you enjoyed Linda J. White’s Words of Conviction. Linda’s talent with page-turning suspense can also be seen in her first book with Abingdon Press, Seeds of Evidence. Here’s a sample chapter from that adventure.
Seeds of Evidence
Linda J. White
1
The beach is time, liberated. Sand escaped from an hourglass, water freed from a pipe, wind unhindered by concrete or glass, Kit without a calendar or timesheet or meetings, her life measured only by the rhythmic pounding of waves and the sun’s bold stride across the heavens.
The bright blue, cloudless sky prophesied the day would be hot. The morning sun warmed the side of Kit’s face as she jogged. Each receding ocean wave cast a mirrorlike sheen on the wet sand. Ahead, a tiny band of sandpipers skittered, while behind, the waves washed away her tracks, slipping her past into the great, gray ocean.
Words of Conviction Page 28