The Shadowed Mind

by Julie Cave

  Cage's eyes twinkled. "Anytime. Thank you for saving my life."

  Dinah was a little startled. She hadn't thought about that aspect — but of course, she had saved Cage's life by throwing herself at Dr. Sharp as he moved over the fallen detective to finish him off. She wasn't very good at realizing the good things she did.

  "Sharp in jail?" Cage asked.

  "Yes. I don't think he'll get bail, either," said Dinah. "I believe he confessed to a colleague of yours."

  "Great." Cage licked his lips and rested for a few moments before he continued. "It was good …working with you. I'll let my …bosses know."

  Dinah smiled. Her reputation, so tarnished in the past, might now begin the long road to recovery. "Thank you. Can I ask another favor of you, since you're helpless right now and can't refuse?" she asked.

  "Sure."

  "Will you think about what you've learned during this case?" Dinah suggested. "I know it's been a lot to take in, but I want you to know that I believe in God and His Word with all of my being. He has completely changed my life and for the first time in a long time, I have hope for the future. I know I'm not a perfect person; I'm a redeemed person."

  "Okay, Dinah, I'll do that," promised Cage.

  "Do you have family coming to see you?" Dinah asked

  "My wife is coming," said Cage, closing his eyes for a few moments.

  "I didn't know you were married!" said Dinah. "You don't talk about yourself much."

  "I guess not," agreed Cage. "It hasn't worked out in the past."

  Dinah was curious but didn't push him. She was distracted by the door opening, and a tall, regal black woman with stunning cheekbones entered.

  "Hi," she said. "I'm Emily Cage."

  "I'm Dinah Harris."

  "Oh, how lovely to meet you," Emily said as she smiled. "My husband has told me so much about you."

  Dinah said uncomfortably, "Uh, yes. I've heard …uh, a lot about you, too."

  Emily laughed, a rich throaty sound that seemed to bubble up from deep inside her. "I doubt that. Why don't we have a word outside?" she suggested. "Samson needs to rest."

  Dinah squeezed Cage's hand and told him goodbye.

  Out in the hall, Emily took Dinah's hand and said, "Thank you so much for saving my husband's life. You have no idea what that means to me."

  "Well," said Dinah. "He saved my life, too, you know."

  "I know Samson won't have mentioned me to you," Emily Cage said. "There is good reason for that."

  "Well, he doesn't talk much about himself at all," said Dinah. "I suppose he's just a private person."

  Emily smiled cryptically. "Well, not quite. Samson used to have a partner, in the police department. I'm sure I don't need to tell you how important that relationship is."

  Dinah knew only too well. Partners became very close — witnessing terrible things together, counseling each other, watching out for each other, confiding in each other. It was a different relationship than a marriage, but it had an intimate dynamic nonetheless.

  "Samson and his partner, Dan, had been together in Vice for ten years," Emily explained. "They were as close as best friends, you know. We had Dan's family over for barbecues and often for Thanksgiving. A couple of years ago, an informant fingered Dan for being corrupt and taking bribes. Samson refused to believe that his good friend Dan could be corrupt and didn't do anything about it, apart from telling Dan, who laughed it off. A few months later they were ambushed by a drug gang and Dan only just escaped from being badly hurt, thanks to Samson. My husband was starting to realize that something was wrong and spoke to his superiors about it. An investigation was launched; Dan was found out and charged, with the very real possibility of spending some hard time in jail. While Dan was out on bail he decided to get revenge on Samson by killing me in front of him, and then killing Samson."

  Dinah gasped, horrified.

  "Thankfully, Dan had consumed a few drinks to work up some courage, and his miserable plan failed. Samson was transferred into Homicide. Ever since then, he has refused to work with a partner. When he's forced to work in close quarters with a colleague, he tells them absolutely nothing of himself or his family. He has told me that he'll never trust a partner again."

  Dinah slowly shook her head. "I can imagine," she murmured.

  "I know it must have been frustrating working with someone who was so closed," Emily said. "But I hope you can understand. For what it's worth, he spoke very highly of you."

  Dinah nodded, suddenly strangely emotional.

  Emily rolled her shoulders and neck. "Anyway, I'm going to get a coffee. Do you want one?"

  "I'd better go home," said Dinah. "I'll say goodbye to Samson first."

  Emily winked at her and strode off down the hall, leaving Dinah in her wake, feeling dazed.

  Dinah ducked back into Cage's room. He looked over at her. "So you met Emily," he said.

  "I did. She told me …about everything," said Dinah. "I'm sorry that I gave you a hard time about it. I understand now."

  Cage smiled. "It's okay. It's just hard to get over, you know?" He closed his eyes and waited a few moments. "Can you do something for me?"

  "Of course!" said Dinah. "What is it?"

  "I need some nail clippers," he whispered. "I can't stand having long nails."

  Dinah remembered his short, perfect fingernails and laughed. In fact, she couldn't stop laughing all the way down the corridor, out through reception, and into the parking lot.

  Chapter 21

  Ella Barnett sat in her car, trying to control her tumultuous emotions. She had pulled up in the visitor parking lot of the nursing home. It had been over a week since she'd settled her father into the nursing home, and she hadn't been back to visit him. She had spent the time in solitude, trying to understand how she felt and slowly packing up some of her father's belongings. At first she threw items into boxes with a degree of anger, but over time the anger dissipated into misery. And then, by the grace of God, she'd found some very interesting letters.

  John Barnett had kept old letters written back and forth between himself and his then-girlfriend Charlotte. Ella had stayed up late into the night to read them.

  Their conversations painted a picture of their early romance, information to which Ella had never been privy. She realized that her parents hadn't really talked much about how they'd met, except to say in a hospital. Ella now knew why.

  It began with a letter from Charlotte, explaining her refusal to date him.

  "John," the letter read, "I realize that I may have sounded rude when I turned down your invitation to go for a drive. The ward was particularly busy at the time, but that's no excuse. In any case, the reason I turned you down has more to do with the fact that I'm a Christian woman, and I will not date non-Christian men, as the Bible tells me it is unwise to be unequally yoked."

  John's reply was interesting. "How do you know I'm not a Christian?"

  "John, I know how those boys are treated under your care," Charlotte wrote. "No Christian man would treat them so badly."

  John had seemed to stew over these words for several months, for Charlotte sent another letter. "I'm worried about you. Deep down, I know that you can be a good man. I know that you know what you are doing is wrong. Can I pray for you?"

  John replied: "I've seen you work with the boys I bring into your hospital. You're gentle and compassionate. But I am the warden of St. Albans and it's a position of responsibility. Those boys have to respect me, or else it would turn into chaos."

  "Those boys need love," Charlotte had replied. "They don't need beatings and cruelty. I'll keep praying for you and for them."

  John's reply was short and terse. "I know what the boys need. I treat them just like my father treated me, and I turned out to be just fine."

  "With respect," Charlotte wrote, "I submit that you have not turned out to be just fine. You are full of hatred, anger, and violence. I feel enormously sorry for you, that your father beat you and that you were not shown an ex
ample of fatherly love. Taking out your anger at your father on children under your care doesn't appear to make you feel any better, and it certainly does great damage to them."

  Again, there was a period of silence. Then John wrote a short note. "You clearly disapprove of everything I am. Why are you being so nice to me?"

  "I'm a Christian," Charlotte wrote, simply. "Jesus Christ showed me what love is, to the extent that He died on the Cross for His enemies. Who am I, to do anything except follow His example? That's why I treat you with love, not hate."

  This seemed to shake John, who again replied shortly, "Jesus Christ is a swear word to me."

  "I know, John, but He loves you anyway. As do I. I'll keep praying for you."

  There was another period of silence. Then, a probing note from Charlotte: "Is everything okay?"

  John wrote, "Please pray for me. I don't know what to do anymore."

  Charlotte seemed to leave him alone for some time, perhaps waiting on God for guidance. Then John wrote a pleading letter: "Please help me figure out what to do with this anger and hate I have inside me. You were right; taking it out on the boys is not helping. I feel like I'm living in a war zone."

  Charlotte had written back extensively, explaining the Christian message of Christ surrendering His life on the Cross for human sin, despite living a perfect existence. She urged John to accept this free gift of salvation and great love, and to turn his life around. "You will come to realize that in the face of such great love," she wrote, "that it's impossible to continue living with the anger in your heart. God's grace will change you."

  "Will I have peace, as you do?" John wanted to know. "How can God forgive me for all that I've done here at St. Albans?"

  "God's forgiveness knows no boundaries. It doesn't matter what you've done. If you are truly sorry, repent, and turn your back on what you've been doing, then God is finished with your past. Then you will have peace."

  "Please tell me what to do."

  "Accept God's free gift of salvation, repent of your sin, turn away from your wrongdoings," Charlotte wrote. "Give your life to the Lord to do with it what He will. Let God be in control of your life."

  There was silence for a little while, which must have sent Charlotte crazy, Ella reflected. Finally, John wrote: "I am free! I have given my life to God and I have been saved! Praise God for your wise counsel, Charlotte."

  According to further letters, John Barnett had resigned his position of warden at St. Albans, gone to church, and some six months later plucked up enough courage to ask Charlotte out on a date again. This time, she accepted. The rest was history.

  In one of his final letters, John wrote: "Charlotte, I am ashamed of my time at St. Albans, and for my anger, cruelty, and hatred. When I first met you, I was an awful person. The love you showed toward me and the boys changed me; it showed me what life could be. I can scarcely believe that God has forgiven me for all that, and even in His grace, allowed me to form a special friendship with you. I don't deserve any of it. I can only promise that I will never again treat a human being the way I treated those boys. I will spend the rest of my life trying to make up for what I've done. Thank you for seeing in me something worth saving."

  Ella knew that her mother's influence had profoundly changed John Barnett into the father she'd always known. It was testimony to the power of God in a person's life that he could change from a vicious, angry tormentor to a gracious, loving man.

  And yet, what could she do about the sadness that still draped her heart so heavily?

  ****

  Finally, Ella took a deep breath and climbed out of the car. At reception, the nurse took one look at her and asked her if she was okay. Ella could only nod. She wondered what the nursing staff thought of her: every time they saw her, she was an emotional mess.

  At the doorway to her father's room, she almost lost her nerve. She squared her shoulders, said a quick prayer, and opened the door. John Barnett was napping in his chair at the window, a warm rectangle of sunlight falling on his lap. Ella was glad he wasn't awake. What she had to say, he wouldn't understand anyway. She just needed to say it for her own sanity.

  She sat down quietly behind him and chewed on her lip for several moments. Finally she summoned up some courage to start.

  "Hi, Dad," she said quietly. "I'm sorry I haven't been by earlier. I'm sorry I had to put you into this home, but I do think it's for the best. Not just because of what's happened, but because you are very sick. I have been very angry at you, but I've come to see that it's impossible being angry at someone who doesn't even know who I am."

  Ella stopped and thought for a moment. "I still can't reconcile you as my father with the monster described in that book. It doesn't seem real to me, but I know it must be true. I just don't know how you could have done it. What sort of person were you, Dad? How could you have believed it to be acceptable to abuse and humiliate little boys? I guess I don't understand how you could live this lie."

  Tears filled her eyes at the thought and she stopped, trying to control herself.

  "I remember my childhood, Dad; it was idyllic. I remember that you were kind and gentle, you listened to me, and you encouraged me. Now I wonder if when you looked at me, whether you saw those young boys? Every memory I have is now stained by the knowledge of what you've done. I suppose that's why you didn't tell Micah or me. I suppose you knew that we would be disgusted with you. I hate to say that, but it's true. I am disgusted, horrified, and sickened by what I read in that book."

  Ella took some more time to compose herself. "Ultimately, this leads me to think of Mom. I know she was a wonderful woman — assuming she didn't hide some terrible secret like you did." Ella laughed wryly. "So she knew about you and what you've done. And she still married you. That says something about how much you changed, I guess."

  John Barnett stirred, and Ella watched him quietly. When he settled, she continued. "Anyway, none of this makes any difference to the betrayal I felt when I discovered the truth. The question is what I do now with this knowledge. I am not strong enough to carry this around alone. So I asked God what I should do. The answer was pretty clear to me."

  Ella felt tears welling again and looked up at the ceiling, exhaling. "God views sin as sin, no matter how we humans might rank it. All of us have fallen short in His eyes, no matter how much better we might think of ourselves compared to others. This sin has separated us from God with a chasm big enough that we'll never be able to bridge it ourselves. God provided the only way that we could ever hope to reconcile our sinfulness with His Holiness. It was Jesus, who died on the Cross on our behalf, bearing the punishment for all our sins. He not only bore that terrible agony and pain, but also the wrath of the Father, who must punish sin because of His perfect and holy character. He defeated death on the third day, and offered to us all an olive branch — an offer of acceptance and salvation despite our weaknesses. It is a perfect solution that we need to do nothing for, except to accept. God's forgiveness is so complete that He promises it is forgotten as soon as we repent.

  "I'm getting to the point. If God, who is perfect, holy, and just, is able to forgive us, then we should do the same. In fact, we are commanded to forgive others just as we have been forgiven. When I realized this, I discovered how I would handle this burden for the rest of my life."

  John Barnett stirred again, but this time Ella plowed on, determined to finish. "I have to forgive you, Dad. Not to make myself feel better, but because that is the standard God requires of me. I'm a Christian, and I want to obey Him. And so, Dad, I forgive you for what you did to those boys before I was born. I understand you were a different person then, that you weren't a Christian. I also understand that God Himself has forgiven you, too. I forgive you for it all."

  Ella allowed her tears to fall freely. As she did so, her father opened his eyes. "Charlotte!" he exclaimed. "I'm so glad to see you."

  He didn't seem to realize, in this moment, that he was in the nursing home. He took Ella's hand in his own. "
I can't seem to stop nodding off every five minutes these days," he said. "I mustn't be sleeping very well."

  "You've been working too hard," murmured Ella, knowing it was what her mother would have said.

  "Have I told you," said John Barnett, "what a very special, wonderful woman you are? You truly saved me."

  "I know," whispered Ella. She held his hand as he dozed, a redeemed and forgiven man, until the shadows lengthened on the wall.

  ****

  Senator David Winters treated himself to a lavish dinner at an exotic Turkish restaurant in the heart of Georgetown to celebrate the passing of the Health Care Reform Bill. He had checked his bank account, and $250,000 had been deposited there that afternoon, courtesy of Eddie Sable and supporters at the Movement.

  Whether there would be a massive increase in the number of people wanting assisted suicide was not his concern; in fact, it never had been. He cared only that the society in which he played a part was progressive, unhindered by religious fanatics. He got sick of the talk about how human life was sacred. You only had to look around at the crack addicts in the gutter, the elderly abandoned in hospitals, and the mentally ill wandering the streets to realize that human life was not sacred. Winters vehemently wished he could get rid of all those sectors of the community without drawing the ire of the bleeding heart do-gooders. Human life was random, accidental, and unremarkable.

  He glanced at his watch, waiting for his contact to arrive. Now that he had achieved Health Care Reform Bill success and the associated deposit into his bank account, he had turned his attention elsewhere. His campaign for the presidency wouldn't begin for another two years, but in the meantime, he had a very good idea of what he wanted to legislatively change.

  "Sorry I'm late," panted his contact, suddenly appearing at his side.

  "Sit down," said Winters, waving at the chair opposite him. He watched the other person sit, trying to absorb as much as he could from his initial impressions. "Now, just tell me a bit about yourself."