by James Dobson
A little girl who looked about two years old smiled cheesily at the camera, her hair decorated with ribbons and pigtails.
“Wow,” Tyler said, not sure if Smitty considered fatherhood a coup or a curse. He’d never wanted children back in the day, one of many tense spots in the marriage. He had called kids conceived in the heat of passion “unplanned monkey wrenches thrown into the gears of life.”
But the adoring grin Smitty flashed while displaying the photo suggested a change of heart.
“But I gather you’re not here for a social visit,” he said, spinning the frame back into place. “Is this about the case I sent your way?”
“Yes…and no.”
Smitty frowned. “Well, which is it?”
“The judge’s assistant insisted I keep the police out of this for now. Until I know more, at least. Officially speaking.”
“But unofficially?”
“Unofficially, the whole thing makes me uneasy. There’s a lot at stake, and I’m nervous the judge could be in danger.”
“Which judge?”
“Can’t say.”
“Fine. So, unofficially, what’s going on with this nameless judge?”
Tyler slid the letters from his pocket, holding them up but not quite offering them. “So far I’ve got three letters. Each mentions a big case on the nameless judge’s docket. He or she also makes a request for direct communication, hoping to dialogue about the pending decision.”
“He or she? No name?”
“Just a first initial and a last name.”
Smitty lifted his eyebrows in a silent request for more.
“A Manichean,” Tyler explained. “Might be a pen name. I found some information about an ancient religious sect called Manicheans, but nothing that seemed relevant to the case. Probably a coincidence.”
“Has the judge responded to the sender?”
Tyler shook his head. “Not so far. I’m not even sure he’s aware the letters exist.”
“So what’s the problem?”
“Each letter sounds more desperate than the last. Possibly more threatening. The first reads like a simple request to correspond anonymously. The second hints about unwelcome consequences of a wrong decision. The third expresses annoyance that the judge has ignored the sender’s requests to dialogue.”
Smitty stroked his clean-shaven chin in thought. “Any criminal record?”
“Nothing listed on my usual sources. Of course, they’re always a bit out of date.” Tyler hesitated before floating his first request. “Any chance I could run the name through the department database?”
“Done,” Smitty said, uncrossing his arms, his standard end-of-meeting gesture.
Tyler didn’t move, prompting Smitty to reluctantly resume an attentive stance.
“What else?” he asked.
“Scan the envelopes to see if forensics can find anything useful?”
“Also done.”
“I’ve got a hunch about this one, Greg,” Tyler began. “The same hunch I got on the Gilbert case.”
As their eyes met, Tyler noticed Smitty’s jaw begin to clench.
“Gilbert?” he asked.
Tyler nodded slowly as both minds regurgitated the details. The brutal murder of a young girl could have been prevented had the two disobeyed orders. The chief hadn’t trusted Tyler’s gut. He had wanted something concrete before approving an arrest. One anonymous lead wasn’t enough to risk the embarrassment and backlash of hauling Travis Gilbert into custody. The respected businessman had donated generously to the mayor’s campaign. But Tyler knew his low-life source had told the truth. Sure, it would have been risky acting on the word of a twenty-eight-year-old drug dealer. But it was even more risky, Smitty had argued, to sit back and do nothing while Gilbert committed murder to prevent a public scandal. The girl had gotten in over her head trying to blackmail Gilbert. They had met at a party. He enjoyed her for a while, then discarded her like a disposable toy. So she threatened to expose his “discreet habit” of using recreational drugs. But Gilbert figured it would save hassle and money to take her out of the picture. The girl’s body disappeared until police uncovered her shallow grave behind a condemned suburban crack house six months after Tyler and Smitty were taken off the case.
“That’s why I wanted to get another opinion,” Tyler added. “You know, from the one person I trust on this kind of thing.”
Smitty half-smiled, appreciatively. “Well, I think you’re probably right.”
Tyler frowned at the validation.
“Unofficially, I’d trust your instincts.”
“But officially?”
“Officially, you already know what I’m going to say.”
Tyler nodded, sighing. “No crime has been committed.”
“We can’t invest time or resources on someone who, from all appearances, simply wants to exchange words with a judge. Even hostile words.” He waved his hand over the stacks of folders on his desk. “Look at this. I can’t get on top of the pile as it is.”
Tyler glanced down at the letters in his hand. He had anticipated Smitty’s response, the same one he would have given had some private investigator shared the scenario back when he was a detective. The police can’t get involved in a case based entirely on a hunch something might be wrong.
“I understand,” Tyler responded.
“But I’ll ask someone to run the name through our database for any additional leads.”
“I appreciate that.”
Smitty moved back around the desk to retake his seat. Recognizing the hint, Tyler slid the chair back into place before offering his hand across the desk.
“Thanks for the help, Smitty,” he said. “And for the lead. You’re a good man.”
Smitty shook firmly, then retrieved a folder from the pile.
“Listen, Ty,” Smitty said as Tyler moved toward the open door. “I miss working with you.”
Tyler turned back toward his former partner to accept the badly needed sip of camaraderie. “Me too,” he said.
“I gotta tell you, when you left the force, I thought you were crazy and…maybe even a little selfish.”
“Ouch.”
“No. Listen. I know there was bad blood between you and Kory, but it bothered me when you left. I won’t lie, it hurt a little.”
Both men blushed as honest sentiment invaded the conversation.
“But now I think it’s exactly what needed to happen.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Tyler asked.
“It means losing my favorite partner forced me to reflect, you know, about what was happening at home.”
A puzzled stare sat on Tyler’s face.
“Carol Anne and I were a train wreck waiting to happen. And the truth is, all my venting to you wasn’t helping matters. While I appreciated your encouragement it actually made things worse.”
“Good to know,” Tyler said self-deprecatingly.
“Oh, it wasn’t your fault. It was mine. I heard what I wanted to hear. I mean, it’s not like you had any experience with marriage. A married man has no business seeking advice from a carefree single buddy.”
They shared a laugh. Tyler’s less enthusiastic than Smitty’s.
“I guess I wanted what you had.”
Tyler nodded silently.
“But after you left I had to turn elsewhere. Long story short, Carol Anne and I got help. I learned to view love as a choice, not a feeling. That’s when things improved.”
Tyler shook his head, unsure of himself. “I’m not following you.”
“I think someone up there used your departure for good even though it didn’t make sense to either of us at the time.”
“Someone up there?” Tyler asked callously. “You mean God?”
Smitty shrugged. “Perhaps.”
A momentary silence lingered between them.
“Well, I’m glad my absence proved so helpful,” Tyler ribbed as he turned back toward the door.
“Ever read the story of
Esther?” Smitty asked.
“Esther who?”
“Just Esther. Look it up.”
“OK. Because?”
“Because I think events can be orchestrated for purposes beyond our own intentions. The story of Esther describes a girl who had no clue that her crummy situation was being used to prevent an ancient holocaust.”
“You don’t say.” Tyler tried to follow.
Smitty chuckled. “Just read the story. Bottom line, I disagreed with your decision to leave the force. I was ticked off. But that decision ended up salvaging my marriage.” He reached for the picture frame. “And now I have this precious little girl.”
“I see.” Tyler finally connected the dots.
“Maybe something like that is happening for you. What if God wants to use your gut to prevent something awful from happening to this judge?”
“A nice thought. But I seriously doubt God has anything to do with it.”
“We’ll see. Meantime, both officially and unofficially, I’m confident you’ll figure it out. Come see me if things escalate to the point we can actually intervene.”
“Gotcha.” Tyler moved to the door. “Well, congratulations on your little girl there, I guess.”
“Her name is Esther.”
“Right.” Tyler smiled. “Esther.”
“It was good to see you, Ty. Don’t be a stranger.”
Part Two
Chapter Eleven
Julia glanced toward her husband seated on the sofa across the room. He seemed more at ease than he had been in months. Spending time with Kevin had a calming influence on Troy, as did the escalating rivalry between the two older Tolbert children.
“It’s my turn,” six-year-old Tommy demanded, yanking his little sister’s pajama hem.
“No!” Joy tightened her squeeze around Troy’s torso to weather Tommy’s assault.
Adult conversation paused yet again while Troy tried brokering a peace accord.
“I promised you each fifteen minutes,” he said, checking the watch Tommy had been impatiently eyeing for eight minutes and forty-seven seconds. “Joy still has about seven minutes to go. Don’t worry, buddy. I won’t forget about you.”
Tommy huffed, recrossing his arms to resume his leer at Joy’s beaming face.
Two miniature tongues pierced through pressed lips toward one another.
“Tommy,” Angie said sternly as the boy retrieved his tongue with lightning speed.
“She started it,” he protested.
“You’re the oldest,” she replied before sealing his fate with a momentary glare.
Julia restrained a laugh at the childish dread only disapproving mommies can engender.
Angie looked back toward Julia. “How’s he doing?”
“Good.” Julia tried to believe it.
“Julia…” Angie flashed another motherly glare. “Really. How’s he doing?”
“He misses Washington,” she began. “No. He misses Kevin.”
They both looked back toward their husbands.
“And the kids,” Julia added.
Angie offered a knowing nod. “They miss him too.”
“The business has struggled, of course. But he doesn’t talk to me about it. I get the feeling it makes him feel…I don’t know…inadequate or something.”
Angie’s eyes smiled over her sip of tea.
“What?” Julia asked.
Angie tilted her head toward Kevin while cupping a hand to the edge of her mouth. “Sounds like someone else I know,” she whispered. “When things get the worst he says the least.”
Julia lowered her voice to match her friend’s. “Why do they do that?”
Angie grinned widely before taking another drink. She looked like a woman eager to invite her friend into a secret society otherwise closed to newlywed brides.
“What?” Julia prodded again.
Angie looked back toward the men to confirm neither was listening.
“They do feel inadequate.”
The revelation momentarily stunned Julia, then morphed into an elusive puzzle piece suddenly found.
“Why? I mean, both have accomplished so much at such a young age. Why should they feel inadequate?”
“Not should. Do. And I don’t mean just Kevin and Troy. I’m talking about all men.”
Julia thought of the men she’d dated before meeting Troy. Most carried themselves with a swagger that hid any hint of uncertainty. She remembered rebuking herself for craving their admiration and affection. A successful and intelligent woman shouldn’t need the attention of some egocentric man. It’s what she had written in her column and shouted at the mirror after countless disheartening dates. But watching her sister’s romantic roller coasters and reading her readers’ posts had convinced Julia that every woman struggled with a nagging insecurity just like her own. It had never occurred to her that the same might be true of men. Some men, perhaps. But Troy? And Kevin?
“Do you mean when things go wrong?” Julia asked.
“I mean almost always,” Angie explained. “While brokering business deals and walking the halls of Congress my husband appears bold and self-assured.”
Julia agreed. Kevin Tolbert came across as even more confident than Troy.
“And he is,” Angie continued, “as long as he knows I respect him. But one look of disappointment or word of criticism from me and he becomes a different man. A smaller man.”
“Smaller?”
“Less than he is when he senses my admiration.”
Julia felt a familiar sense of indignation. “So we’re supposed to stand on the sidelines wearing cheerleader outfits so they can win the big games. Is that it?”
Angie smiled disarmingly. “Something like that. But I hope you wear something a bit racier than a cheerleader outfit now that you’re married.” She added a mischievous wink.
Julia suppressed a reluctant grin while marveling at her friend’s unflappable confidence. Rather than take the bait Angie had redirected the potential quarrel like a seasoned mom distracting a child from a tantrum.
“You know what I mean,” Julia snapped playfully.
“If there’s anything I’ve learned about men during a decade of marriage it’s that they desperately need their woman’s admiration and respect. Why shouldn’t they? I mean, God made two halves of a whole. Doesn’t it make sense that men need us as much as we need them?”
“I guess I don’t like thinking of it as a need,” Julia admitted. “I love Troy. I want him. But need him?”
“That’s right,” Angie mocked. “I forgot. No man is an island. But a woman is different. She can go it alone.”
Julia absorbed the rebuke. Probably even deserved it, she thought, after years of columns peddling an ideology that must have seemed shallow or silly to her newfound mentor. Angie would, of course, resent being called a mentor. The two had been high school friends reunited after a season of estrangement. Slowly drifting apart was the cowardly route Julia had chosen while falling in love with a world far removed from the kind of life Kevin and Angie Tolbert had built together. The kind of life, as Troy had hoped, she found it easy to admire.
But it remained difficult to choose.
“Point taken,” Julia said, raising a hand of surrender.
Angie winked at her friend before lifting the mug back to her lips. “So,” she began over the brim, “how’s that discussion group with your pastor going?”
Julia sighed before glancing at a clock on the wall. “A new record,” she said.
“Record for what?”
“For how soon you slipped into evangelist mode.” She paused to calculate backward from her and Troy’s arrival time. “Less than two hours.”
In truth, Julia had hoped to avoid the subject. Yes, she had agreed to join Troy in the Exploring Christianity class. And yes, Pastor Alex had answered most of her toughest questions during the past few months. But Julia hated admitting to her hopeful friend that she hadn’t yet decided to go as far as her husband. He had be
come an official follower of Jesus a few months earlier. Kevin had flown to Denver for the baptism, beaming with delight at his best friend’s decision. Despite Angie’s prayerful prods, however, Julia remained a straggler: open to the possibility, but hesitant. At times she felt an inexplicable yearning mixed with fear, as if nervously eager about her own likely plunge. But no decision as yet.
“I’m sorry.” Julia regretted causing Angie’s blush of unease. “I shouldn’t have said that. The class is going well. Thanks for asking.”
Angie smiled forgivingly. “You know I’m praying for you.”
Julia nodded, then swallowed discomfiture at the idea of heavenly intervention. The thought of needing anyone, be it her husband, a dear friend, or even her Maker, stirred unwelcome but instinctual feelings. Might they explain her spiritual foot-dragging?
“I guess Pastor Alex is right,” she confessed.
“About what?”
“He said the greatest barrier to becoming a Christian isn’t any question or doubt.”
“No?”
“No,” Julia continued, “it’s our pride.”
Angie’s brow lifted in surprised reaction to the admission. “Julia Simmons, proud?”
They shared a knowing laugh.
“Anyway,” Angie said while gently touching her friend’s arm. “They need us more than we realize.”
Julia nodded to acknowledge Angie’s return to the subject of husbands.
“I guarantee Troy needs you more than you think he does,” Angie added.
“Then why doesn’t he talk to me about what’s going on?”
“Like what?” Angie asked.
“Like yesterday morning. I stopped by his office to say hi. He seemed happy to see me, but he also seemed nervous, like I had caught him in a secret.”
“What kind of secret?”
“Like letting go of a few key staff members. And like failing to attract the kind of capital they need for a big deal he’s trying to put together.”
A look of concern invaded Angie’s face. Julia regretted saying too much.
“I’m sure everything is fine,” she added. “He plans to talk to Kevin about the situation tomorrow.”
“He probably already has,” Angie said. “Like I said before, when things are going the worst Kevin tells me the least.”