The Way of Grace (Miller's Creek Novels)

by Bryant, Cathy

  “Please.” The word barged from Matt’s mouth without permission. He moved to the machine in the far corner and poured the black brew into a Styrofoam cup. Not that he really needed another cup, but under the circumstances he certainly wanted it. He sipped the liquid and grimaced. The stuff tasted like it had been made a few weeks ago. He retraced his steps to where the other men stood, Andy’s face grim as he addressed the Ernie. “So what’s the scoop?”

  The balding police chief moved into his office, motioning to a few chairs. “Have a seat.” He parked himself at the desk and swiveled to face them. “Yesterday Ms. Delgado and a private investigator—”

  “Wait a minute. Elena Delgado? From the DA’s office?” A frown darkened Andy’s face and he exchanged a look with Ben.

  “That’s the one.” Ernie’s moustache crawled up and down as he spoke. “Anyway, they came to my office late yesterday afternoon with pictures of Gracie letting herself into your building at 2:30 a.m. on Saturday morning. The pictures show her leaving three hours later.”

  “Have you questioned her?” Andy’s face held a frown.

  Ernie nodded. “Yep. She’s been very cooperative. Said something about looking for a file. I figured you’d know more about that. If you wanna talk to her, you can.”

  Matt sat up his seat. “You mean she’s still here?”

  Again, Ernie bobbed his head. “I gave her the chance to use the phone, but she said there wasn’t anyone to call. She spent the night in the cell. All she asked for was a Bible.”

  A stony part of Matt’s broken heart melted, and he lowered his gaze to the floor. The thought of her locked in a cell overnight affected him in a way he hadn’t expected. Where was her dad? He glanced at Andy, his insides twisted in knots.

  His brother shot a look of encouragement then turned to Ernie. “Can we see her now?”

  The man rose to his feet and pulled a set of keys from his desk drawer. “Yep.”

  Matt followed the other three, his thoughts focused on one thing and one thing only—to make sure Gracie was okay.

  Grace rose to her feet in the dingy gray cell at the sound of approaching footsteps and voices, her fingers tightly clutching the Bible Ernie had provided. She’d spent all last night preparing for this, praying God would help her through, praying that Andy would understand.

  The men emerged from the darkened corridor, and her eyes immediately focused on Andy and Ben then shifted to Matt, his sandy brown eyes full of questions. She ducked her gaze and stepped back until she felt the small cot on the back side of her legs, her knees threatening to buckle. Why had Matt come? His presence would only make things more difficult.

  The keys rattled against the steel bars as Ernie unlocked the door. Strong arms encircled her, a familiar cologne teasing her senses. She’d know Matt’s scent in a pitch-black cave, the same scent and same arms that had comforted her so many times. Tears welled in her eyes and slipped unbidden down her cheeks. Hard as it was, she forced herself to stand completely aloof, not daring to give him any encouragement. He deserved better.

  When he pulled away a minute later, she kept her eyes trained on the floor, and simply raised a finger to her face to catch a stray tear.

  “It’s okay, Gracie. Why don’t we talk?” Andy’s voice held kindness, and he stepped forward to pat her back.

  She nodded and collapsed to the bed, finally garnering enough courage to make eye contact with Andy. “I want you to know how sorry I am, and though it sounds contrary to belief, I did it in an effort to find out the truth so I could protect you.”

  “Protect me?” He looked doubtful. And really, really tired.

  “Long story, but it’s also why I took the prosecution job.”

  Her former boss scratched his face, then trudged across the cell and back again. “I don’t follow. How’s the DA’s office involved in this?”

  “I don’t exactly know. That’s what I’ve been trying to figure out. I’m pretty certain Elena’s up to something, but she’s good at covering her tracks. I think she’s influencing the outcome of cases. In fact, I think she intentionally threw the Simmons case.” The thought that had plagued her all night returned. “But I have absolutely no concrete evidence.”

  Ben spoke from the back of the cell where he leaned against the black bars. “What makes you think she threw the case?”

  “She gave me research on calling classmates of David Simmons on Thursday afternoon, which I completed late Thursday night. I gave it to her first thing Friday morning and she used it Friday afternoon. She said she thought I’d disclose the information to the defense so you’d have time to prepare. I know it makes me sound incompetent, but it’s almost like she planned it to happen this way.”

  Matt shifted positions and crossed his arms across his chest, his eyebrows puckered. “You’re not telling us everything.”

  His comment would’ve angered her at one time, but not now. Not after what she’d done. Instead she released a sigh and stared at the concrete floors. “I can’t make accusations without proof.”

  “Yet you broke into my office.” Anger edged Andy’s tone.

  Her eyes pleaded with him. “Elena said something about you being investigated for illegal and unethical activity.”

  “Me? And you believed her?”

  Her chest ached and she brought a hand to her throat, hoping to make breathing easier. “I didn’t want to believe it, but she made it sound plausible.”

  “And she’ll of course admit to this conversation?” Ben’s eyebrows were drawn together in a way that obscured his eyes in the dim light.

  Her shoulders heaved with yet another sigh. No, Elena would never incriminate herself. Of that she was certain.

  Andy stepped up. “Okay, so help me understand. You broke into my office looking for proof. What did you hope to find?”

  She raked her bottom lip between her teeth. “Anything.”

  The attorney side of Andy took over. He paced again, his gaze glued to her face. “Did you find anything?”

  “Not at first, but while I was there someone else came in and put a file in the cabinet. It was a list of pretty powerful people and their contact information. If someone made the right accusations, the file would’ve implicated you. I wasn’t sure who planted it, but I was trying to protect you, like I said earlier.”

  Andy halted right in front of her, his heels snapping together like a military drill sergeant. “And where is this file now?”

  Grace closed her eyes and rubbed the cramp in her neck. Why wouldn’t he believe her? “I took it home with me. I was gonna talk to you about it, but you’d already left for vacation.”

  “It’s at your house?” His voice ratcheted up several decibels, his tone thick with barely-concealed frustration. He turned away.

  “It was, but now I can’t find it.”

  Andy whirled around on one foot to glare at her. “What?”

  Her breath came in spurts and she squirmed to find a more comfortable position on the lumpy bed. “Sometime between when I brought it home on Saturday and the following Sunday afternoon it went missing.”

  He looked ready to blow a fuse. “Wait a minute. You’re telling me you broke into my office for proof that I was involved in illegal activity and couldn’t find anything. Then before you left, someone came in and planted a file of false information which you took, but now can’t find.” He snorted in disbelief. “Sorry but I don’t buy it.”

  The words knifed into her. Lord, help him believe me. “I know it sounds unbelievable, Andy, but it’s the truth. I’m not explaining it well, but at least give me the benefit of a doubt.”

  “Benefit?” His eyes bulged, and he raised both hands. “Sounds like some cockamamie story you created to justify your actions! Just tell me the truth.”

  Tears formed in her eyes and sheer panic escalated the speed of her words. “I am. Please believe me. The file was there when I left for church Sunday morning. All kinds of weird stuff has been happening at my house.” More things s
he couldn’t prove. “First the chair and fence and mailbox, then the phone calls and Millie.” Grace glanced around. All their expressions held skepticism. Why bother? No one believed her. Why should they? She closed her eyes to the excruciating pain in her heart.

  Andy resumed pacing. Finally, he shook his head and stared her down, his jaw set in concrete. “Sorry, Gracie. I’m an attorney. Until I have proof, I have no reason to believe any of this.”

  The room began to spin and she gripped the bed.

  Now he faced Ernie. “Let her go. I’m not pressing charges.” Andy once more directed his words her way. “How’d you get in?”

  “Spare key.” The words seemed to come from somewhere outside herself.

  “I want it back.”

  She nodded, as thick darkness invaded every pore of her being. Lord, this is more than I can bear.

  My grace is sufficient.

  She latched onto Andy’s arm as he passed. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

  He shot a look laden with disappointment and stalked from the cell without a word, Ernie and Ben on his heels.

  Pain singed inside as the darkness spiraled deeper and deeper, bringing with it the taste of death. She groaned and lowered her head to her hands.

  “Gracie, what can I do?” Matt took one step and stopped.

  She shook her head, too ashamed to look at him. “Nothing. There’s nothing anyone can do.”

  He stood there a moment longer, then strode from the cell, the steel door closing behind him with a blast of finality.

  Later that afternoon, Grace forced her eyelids open far enough to view her reflection in the bathroom mirror at Papa’s house. Matt’s departure earlier that day had brought on so many tears she could barely see to drive home. Now her eyes, red and swollen shut from the crying, made her look as though she’d been in a boxing match and lost. In her quest to uncover the truth, she had lost. Everything.

  Surprisingly, no more tears fell. She pulled a threadbare washcloth from beneath the sink and wet it with cold water to press against her eyes. Like it or not, she had to go in to work today. Not that she had a job. More than likely Elena would send her packing. But at least she could pick up the few belongings she had on her desk. After that she’d return the spare key.

  An hour later she stood outside the DA’s office in downtown Morganville and stared up at the massive brick building that one time symbolized her perfect career. How had things gotten to this point? A sigh escaped. What she’d done was wrong, and her intentions really didn’t matter. Best to accept the way things had turned out, learn from her mistakes, and move on if possible.

  Grace inhaled to bolster her courage and entered through the revolving glass door. She’d spent countless hours trying to understand what had happened. Elena had obviously set her up, effectively clearing herself of doubt, and in the process made herself look like a hero of justice. St. Elena. If it weren’t so laughable, it would almost have a nice ring to it. The woman had used the oldest legal trick in the book—discrediting the witness—and it had worked. But why? What was she trying to hide?

  The thought niggled at her brain as she traipsed down the uncharacteristically quiet corridor toward the stairs. Glances cast her way were accompanied with whispers, and in hushed silence, her echoing footsteps seemed to herald approaching doom.

  Once in the office, no one spoke as she cleared her desk and deposited her belongings in the tote bag she’d brought for the occasion. But as she made her way to the exit, Elena stepped from the doorway of her office, effectively blocking her path. “In spite of everything, I wish you well, Grace. Sorry things had to end this way. Be sure to give prospective employers my name, and I’ll give you a glowing recommendation.” Though her tone held friendly goodwill—most likely for the benefit of those nearby—her eyes revealed a contrary message.

  The words hit their mark and sparked intended fear. Elena knew exactly what to say to twist the knife and make it cut deeper. Would she ever be able to work as an attorney again?

  She somehow found the courage to straighten her shoulders and raise her head. The anger and bitterness she supposed would flow from her like vitriol were amazingly absent. What she felt was pity, not anger. From some calm place inside, she smiled. “Thanks, Elena. Hope you have a wonderful Thanksgiving.”

  As she stepped out into the unusually warm autumn day a few minutes later, an inexplicable peace blanketed her. She moved to the truck with a light step and headed to Miller’s Creek. As she drew near Andy’s office, her stomach churned at the thought of facing him again. Would he ever forgive her?

  Grace parked and said a quick prayer for strength, then opened the office door and approached the receptionist window. “Hi, Sandra.”

  Once a comrade and colleague, Sandra stared back at her, her expression completely devoid of warmth. “May I help you?”

  She pulled the key from her purse and handed it over. “May I speak with Andy please?”

  The receptionist snatched the key as though she feared making contact. “He’s already left to fly back to Florida to be with his family.” Her tone held condemnation, leaving no doubt as to how she felt about Grace at the moment.

  She made ready to leave, but faced Sandra once more. “I don’t expect you to understand, but not all of this is my fault.”

  Now her friend’s face flared red. “Why can’t you just take responsibility for your actions and admit when you’re wrong?”

  “I do, Sandra. I shouldn’t have come here in the middle of the night without permission, but I had my reasons. My heart was in the right pl—”

  “Whatever.” Sandra stood and stormed from the receptionist’s office and slammed the bathroom door behind her.

  An invisible claw clutched her heart and squeezed. How far would the repercussions of her actions reach? Would anybody believe her—that in spite of doing the wrong thing—she’d done it for a noble reason? The thought plagued her all the way home.

  Grace awoke the next morning, more lonely than ever. Normally Thanksgiving was a day of family, food, and fun, but not today. She padded to the kitchen, and in no time, had the house ensconced in the smell of bacon and eggs, but in the end threw most of her breakfast in the trash.

  As the morning wore on, she entertained the idea of calling Matt, but changed her mind. After her efforts to put distance between them, it would only complicate matters. But the silence finally got the best of her, and right before lunch, she plugged in the phone in case Papa called. She didn’t dare run up the phone bill, especially since she might have to borrow money to pay for the things she’d purchased over the past few weeks.

  To her great delight, the phone emitted a dial tone as soon as she plugged it in, and only thirty minutes passed before the phone rang. For a second she hesitated, fearful of possible silence on the other end. But finally she answered.

  “Buenos dias, Graciela.”

  Tears pooled in her eyes. “Papa!” Had she ever been so glad and relieved to hear his voice? “How are you?”

  He laughed, the happiest sound she’d heard him make in the past fifteen years. “I’ve never been better, la hija. How are you?”

  The words froze in her throat. Telling him the truth would only destroy this newfound joy. Best to wait until later. “I’m fine. I have something to tell you, but I’ll wait until you’re home.”

  “I have things to discuss with you too, but they’ll wait. I mainly wanted to wish you a Happy Thanksgiving.”

  The phone was passed to her brothers, sister-in-laws, nieces and nephews, so that by the time she’d spoken with everyone, a half hour had elapsed. She hung up with mixed feelings. It hurt to know her family would have a great day of celebrating without her, but as least she’d had the chance to speak with them.

  Grace grabbed a book and headed to the back door. Might as well read outdoors while the day was warm. The phone shrilled, and she stopped in her tracks. It wouldn’t be like Papa to call again so soon, and in her current state of mind, she
dared not answer. Instead she unplugged the phone and moved outside.

  The weekend wore on interminably. Grace thought about looking for a job on Black Friday, but with the throng of Christmas shoppers it was unlikely anyone would have time to discuss jobs. She busied herself around the house, cleaning out her closet and the pantry.

  By Sunday morning Grace was more than ready for interaction. She went through her normal routine on autopilot. Though she dreaded facing people at church, she also needed them like never before, but would they be receptive in light of what she’d done?

  She arrived a few minutes early, but every attempt she made to engage others was met with uncomfortable silence. By the time the service started, her pasted-on veneer of a smile wore painfully thin, but she forced herself to carry on as best she could.

  Since tears hovered just beneath the surface, she opted to sit in the congregation rather than the choir. During the welcome—what Mama Beth laughingly called ‘hug and howdy’ time—Grace turned to greet those behind her. To her surprise, Andy and Trish and their two boys had slipped in during the opening song.

  Grace held out a hand to Little Bo, who’d grown at least two feet since her high school days when she babysat for him. Discomfort covered his face, and Trish quickly stepped in. She wore a tight smile, and her eyes held uncustomary hardness. “How are you?” Trish asked the question as she shook her hand, then without waiting for a response, turned to hug the neck of the person behind her.

  Her heart fell to the floor. So this was how it was going to be.

  Andy, his face still as grim as it had been last Wednesday, stepped forward and offered a hand. “Hey, Gracie.”

  “Hi.” She managed a slight smile, in spite of her shredded heart. “Is Matt here by any chance?”

  A small frown created vertical ripples between his eyebrows. “I thought you knew. He decided to go on the road with a band.”

  The news slammed into her with unexpected force, and she gripped the pew. He’d left without saying good-bye?