Through His Heart (Mind's Eye Book 3)

by Deborah Camp

  “When?”

  “When I’m ready,” he snapped, then more evenly, “When she’s ready.” He wiggled his jaw, relieving the bunched muscles.

  “What are you waiting for?”

  The tight rein he held snapped in two. “I’m a coward! Okay? I like having her in my life.” He shook his head, angrily. “No. She is my life! When I tell her about the child, the seed of doubt will be planted and she’ll start pulling away from me.”

  “You don’t know that because you’ve told no one about it except for me and a couple of other therapists. You’re presuming her reaction and you know that’s foolish of you and unfair to her.”

  “Oh, come on!” He flung out a hand in a frustrated gesture. “I’d say it’s a damn good presumption. I’d place money on it.”

  She let silence settle around them again with only the soft ticking of the wall clock to disturb it. When she spoke again, her voice held the strong, motherly timber that he favored and kept him coming back to her, even more than for her expert techniques and insightfulness. “Levi, how can you not discuss this with her? By not telling her, aren’t you assuming the worst instead of recognizing that she will understand that you had no control over the situation?”

  He sat forward, propping his elbows on his knees and running his fingers through his hair. Like a riptide, panic threatened to suck him under and he struggled against it. “I wish I was farther along in my recovery. I don’t understand why she hasn’t headed for the hills already. She could latch on to a man who didn’t come with a steamer trunk full of hang-ups, nightmares, and psychoses.”

  “Nightmares? I thought those had nearly stopped.”

  Pouring himself a glass of water from the pitcher on the coffee table that separated them, Levi drank deeply. The cool liquid soothed his dry, scratchy throat. “When I’m away from Trudy, they come back. I’ve probably only had four or five hours of sleep since I left Tulsa.”

  “And what are the nightmares about?”

  He finished the glass of water and then squared his shoulders and tugged at his suit jacket to adjust the fit, secure his armor. “My father, of course. Last night I dreamed I saw him walking with Trudy on a city street. I called out to them and they both turned to look at me. They burst into laughter and walked on. I broke into a run, but I couldn’t catch up to them, no matter how fast I ran.” He swallowed against the tightness in his throat as he recalled waking up with his lungs burning and his body damp with sweat. After giving Dr. McLain a wry glance, he directed his gaze to the French doors that opened to a small courtyard. It was a sunny day, but cool enough that the doors were shut. “No need to decipher that dream for me. It’s crystal clear.”

  “Have you thought anymore about confronting your father?”

  “No.” He sent her a stony glare. She stared back at him coolly, unflinchingly. “That won’t help.”

  “But you’re going to help Trudy with this case?”

  “Not exactly. I’ll be with her and maybe do a bit of footwork, but it’s her case. I’m staying out of it. I have my own work.”

  “You firmly believe that it wouldn’t be productive to tell your father about your feelings toward him?”

  He firmed his jaw. “What good would that do? He’s not stupid. He knows how I feel. I tried to talk to him before I left for England – after my mother died. Not only was he unsympathetic, he held the door open for me and was glad to see my back.” He flicked lint off his pant leg. “The egotistic fucker.”

  “Tell me this.” She shifted in the chair. “This intense anger you harbor for him – does it allow him to continue his control over you?”

  “I’ve considered that. In fact, I’m sure there is merit in that theory,” he drawled, faintly irritated by her question, but then reminding himself that having a master’s degree in psychology made him a difficult patient. “Trudy said the very same thing. However, cussing him out or hammering him with my fists won’t cure what ails me.”

  “You’re absolutely right, Levi. But there are other paths to take. Are you sure you don’t want to talk about the child some more?”

  “I’m sure.” He closed his eyes for a few moments as his headache intensified.

  “Then what is the cure for what ails you, Levi?” she asked, quietly, persistently, as she tapped the end of her pen against her notebook.

  He tossed her a smile so brittle it felt as if it cracked his lips. “That’s what I’m paying you for, Dr. McLain. The magic cure. Are you holding out on me?”

  She glanced at the wall clock and closed her notebook. “Levi, your forty-five minutes are up.” She lifted a detaining hand when he started to rise. “Let me speak to you now as a friend.”

  He relaxed back on the couch, intrigued. “I’m listening.”

  “You’ve made tremendous progress since meeting Trudy.”

  He nodded, his smile softening along with his heart. “I want to be whole for her. I want to be her rock.”

  “That’s good. And I understand that you’re fearful of losing her – of her walking out on you. As we’ve discussed here today, that’s a normal concern in the beginning of a relationship. But the longer you refuse to confide in her, the more she will resent you for it.” She leaned forward slightly, focusing more intently on him. “Don’t allow your pride to run roughshod over your heart, my friend.”

  ###

  The building was so much less than what she’d expected – just like the town. Trudy stared at the two-story, nondescript, cinderblock office building. She stood in front of it where five steps led up to double glass doors. Written in white on the doors was the address and “Comfort Ministry and Studio.” She’d thought it would be grander and there would be a picture of John Comfort somewhere obvious on the outside. Maybe even a billboard. After watching his television show a few times lately, it was obvious that the Reverend Comfort knew he was a handsome man. He flashed his bright-white smile like a knight brandishing his sword. A shiny, mesmerizing, dangerous weapon.

  But there was no image of him anywhere – at least, not on the outside of the building. She realized that she’d expected something showy because of several ministry offices she’d seen in Tulsa. One in particular came to mind, built by a famous evangelist. Gold and white and weirdly gaudy, it had sat empty for a decade because no other business wanted to occupy it. Finally, it had been demolished to make room for a more conventional office complex.

  This structure, however, could have housed an insurance agency or any other mundane enterprise. Occupying a corner of the main street in the small town of Cotton, Missouri, it shared the block with JoAnne’s Cut and Curl and Allen’s Market and Pharmacy. Turning in a circle, Trudy admired the park across the street, deserted on this winter day. It had seemed odd, at first, for the evangelist to pick this town for his headquarters, but real estate was cheap in Cotton and it was located in easy driving distance to two major Southern cities – Memphis and St. Louis. Here, he was a big pea in a little pod. She imagined the town not only revered him, but also protected him from nosy outsiders. Like her.

  As she started to face the building again, she caught quick movement in her peripheral vision and caution tapped along her backbone. She knew that someone had ducked around the corner of the building. It was the third time that day that she sensed she was being followed. Had John Comfort put a tail on her? Or was this Levi’s doing? It would be just like Levi to have Gonzo send a member of his security team to shadow her. But, wouldn’t he tell her about it?

  Tipping up her chin to prove to herself that she wasn’t bothered by the creepy feeling, she walked up the steps and pushed open the door. The interior was warm and her footsteps were muffled by a dark gray carpet. Ahead of her, a security guard stood beside a desk where a gray-haired woman in a brightly flowered dress offered Trudy a pleasant smile. The nameplate on her desk read Mrs. Paula Shulter.

  “Is it still nippy out there?” Mrs. Shulter asked.

  Trudy nodded, loosening the scarf from around her neck. �
��Yes, but it isn’t spitting sleet anymore.”

  “Ah, well, that’s a blessing. What can I do for you?”

  “I have a meeting with AmyLynn Comfort. I’m Trudy Tucker.” She removed her wool cap and gloves and tucked them into her pockets. The pale gray walls were lined with large photos of John Comfort delivering sermons. Some of them showed him preaching in front of hundreds of people. This was more like it. Welcome to Comfort Country.

  Mrs. Shulter glanced at a ledger and then picked up the phone receiver at her elbow, her smile still firmly pressed to her mulberry lips. “Mr. Poe? Trudy Tucker is here to see AmyLynn. Is she around there somewhere?” She listened for a few moments, nodded, and replaced the receiver. “Mr. Poe will be here in a few moments.”

  “And he is?”

  “Michael Poe. Won’t you have a seat?” She indicated the padded chairs and leather couch along one wall, right beneath the largest photo of John Comfort preaching to the masses.

  Trudy sat in one of the chairs. Still in the dark about who Michael Poe was, she assumed he must be AmyLynn’s secretary or assistant. She didn’t have to wait long. Before another minute ticked by, the door next to the security guard swung open and a balding man in his early thirties strode toward Trudy. He jerked nervously at his dark blue suit’s pin-striped vest before he extended his hand to her.

  “Ms. Tucker? I’m Michael Poe. AmyLynn is very busy today. You had an appointment?” He spoke quickly as if he were in a rush and wasn’t happy with this detour from his important work . . . whatever that was.

  “Yes, of course I do.” She angled her chin up, affronted that he’d think she’d just pop in and expect AmyLynn to drop everything. “If she’s running behind schedule, I can wait or come back at a later time today.”

  “No, no.” He checked his expensive wristwatch. “If you say you have an appointment . . .” He heaved a short sigh of irritation. “It’s just that we had plans for her this afternoon.” He motioned for Trudy to follow him. “This way, please.” And he set off, expecting her to follow.

  Reminded of another bossy “follow me” guy named Wolfe, Trudy gave a little shake of her head and fell into step behind him. Of course, that’s where the resemblance ended. Levi was six feet plus a couple of inches and Michael was about five feet eight . . . maybe nine. Levi was strikingly good looking with thick, slightly curly black hair and Michael’s hair was brown and thinning. In fact, there was a bald spot on the crown. Levi could be brusque, but he was well-mannered. He would never have spoken to anyone in his offices as if they were imposing on his valuable time. Especially someone with an appointment!

  Setting aside her stinging feelings, she took in the large room they’d entered. It looked like any other television studio office with people in cubicles hunched over keyboards, leaning close to computer screens, and chatting with each other in small groups. Two large screen televisions on either end of the room broadcast the religious channel where The Hour of Comfort could be seen daily. Gazes followed them and voices lowered to whispers as they passed. Michael headed up a flight of stairs, glancing back once to make sure she was behind him. At the landing, he paused.

  “These are the executive offices,” he said, then nodded to a sitting area. “Please make yourself comfortable. I’ll let AmyLynn know you’re out here.”

  “Thank you.” Trudy eased down into one of the leather, wingback chairs and looked out the windows at the slate sky. She’d arrived in Cotton yesterday afternoon, an hour before it started raining. By early morning, the rain and turned into sleet. She toyed with the diamond ring on her finger as she wondered what Levi was doing right this minute. He‘d be here tomorrow. A smile curved her lips just thinking about seeing him again after two long days and nights without him.

  The sound of someone approaching snapped her back to the present and she turned her head to see AmyLynn almost running toward her in white high heels. Her demeanor was frazzled, although her white skirt and blazer and deep rose silk shirt were crisp and perfectly tailored to her hourglass figure. Flags of pink unfurled in her cheeks and her ample bosom rose and fell with her agitated breathing.

  “Trudy, I’m so sorry! I told everyone I was seeing you this afternoon, but . . . well, sometimes people schedule me for things without asking first or checking my schedule.” She flapped a hand. “Never mind about that. You’re here!” She grasped one of her hands as Trudy rose from the chair. “Come on. We’ll go to my office where it’s private. You want a cup of tea or coffee? We have apple juice, too. Or how about some bottled water?”

  “I’d take a cup of tea,” Trudy said, smiling as AmyLynn squeezed her hand before letting go. “I hope I haven’t caused too much of an inconvenience. I can come back later if that would be better for you.”

  “Heaven bless, no! Nothing is more important than getting Rachel back. Nothing.” She hooked her arm with Trudy’s and led her from the reception area, stopping for a moment to ask a young woman seated in the first office to bring her two cups of tea with cream. They marched along a corridor of closed doors. A double door with a brass plate on it at the end of the hallway drew her attention and Trudy figured it must be Rev. Comfort’s office or a conference room. AmyLynn stopped outside the last office on the right and opened the door. “Go on in, Trudy.”

  Trudy paused to glance at the name on the double doors – Rev. Comfort. Just as she’d thought. She entered AmyLynn’s office and was momentarily taken aback by the pale pink walls and carnation pink carpet underfoot. A massive gold cross studded with jewel-toned crystals dominated the wall behind a white desk. Across from the desk was a bank of windows that gave a view of the park across the street. She wondered if Rachel used to play there and AmyLynn watched her from the windows.

  “Let’s sit over here on the sofa,” AmyLynn said, already blending into the white cushions and placing one of the hot pink throw pillows behind her back. “Have you seen Rachel again? How is she? Give me some good news to cling to.”

  Trudy took her place on the other end of the couch. “We were at Reelfoot and the kidnapper was there, too. But I didn’t see him,” she rushed on when AmyLynn’s eyes grew large with excitement. “He saw me, though.”

  “He was at the lake? At the cabin?”

  “We were at the cabin and he was watching us. He drove off before we could follow him. He must live near here.”

  “The FBI thinks so, too.” AmyLynn grabbed one of the pillows and began toying with the fringe that edged it. “What else? Anything else?”

  “Not yet. I’d like to chat with the people here in your offices and anyone who is close to Rachel. That could help me zero in on who I’m channeling.”

  “Oh, heavens.” AmyLynn bit down on her lower lip. “Everyone has been interviewed by the FBI and deputies. They’re still poking through employee files.” She chewed on her lip some more. “It’s very intrusive. John doesn’t like it.”

  “I’m sure it’s an inconvenience, but finding your daughter is his priority. Right?” Trudy noted the few moments of silence before AmyLynn gave a small sigh.

  “I’ll tell Michael that you’ll need to speak to some of the staff. If he gives you any trouble, let me know. He’s very . . . well, protective of John and he can be obstinate.”

  “Thank you.”

  AmyLynn nodded and wiped at the corners of her eyes where tears had collected. “I thought we’d find her way before now. It’ll be Christmas soon and I can’t stand to think . . .” She swallowed a sob.

  A girl carrying a tea tray entered the office and AmyLynn’s face lit up.

  “Honey! Aren’t you sweet to bring us our tea. Trudy, this is Hannah, my oldest. She’s home from boarding school. Hannah, this is Miss Tucker. She’s helping us find your sister.”

  The girl looked nothing like AmyLynn. Small-boned and lithe, she wore her dark brown hair parted on the side and falling in soft curls to her shoulders. She’d paired a baggy, off-white, cotton sweater with a pair of Zebra-striped jeans and bright red leather ankle boots.
Obviously, she had a flair for fashion. Her brown-eyed gaze flickered over Trudy as if she didn’t want to look but couldn’t help sneaking a peek or two. She had a pretty mouth that glistened with lip gloss and high, slashing cheekbones. If she were taller, she could be a model.

  “Hello.” Trudy extended her hand.

  Hannah glanced fitfully at her mother before finally, awkwardly, shaking Trudy’s hand. “Hi.” Her tone bordered on boredom. Typical teenager.

  “You want to have a cup of tea with us, hon?”

  “No, thanks.” Having set the tea tray on the coffee table, she was already backing out of the room.

  “Why not? Come sit by me.”

  “I have stuff to do.” Pivoting, she almost bolted from the room.

  “She’s pretty,” Trudy said.

  “She’s taking all of this real hard.” AmyLynn handed Trudy a cup of tea. “It’s been a difficult year for her anyway. The new school and being away from home, and then Rachel disappears. It’s too much for a young girl to handle, you know?”

  “It’s a nightmare for all of you.” Trudy sipped the tea, which was steaming hot. “Does she like boarding school?”

  “I don’t know. She says she likes it, but her grades aren’t as good as they were when she was in public school. John says it’s because the boarding school has higher standards and she’ll catch up after another semester.”

  “Did you miss not having her here?”

  “Oh, my Lord, yes!” AmyLynn’s eyes widened so that her false eyelashes tapped at her raised brows. “I bawled every day for a month! I had crying jags after that, I missed her so much! Of course, I called and texted her every day . . . several times a day.” She laughed at herself. “I’m sure she wishes I would leave her be, but I can’t! I worry that she’ll need something or that she won’t eat right, or not make good decisions. John says I smother my girls.”

  “Sounds to me like you love them. There’s nothing wrong with that. When I moved out to go to college, my mother called me every day the first month or two. And I was only fifteen minutes away from her!”