Race Against Time: A Novel
Page 11
The enemy hated that.
Battle lines had been drawn.
Deep within her soul, Anesia knew it was just the beginning. Was she ready for this? Oh God, give me strength.
Zoya turned back to her in her pacing. A tortured look on her face.
Lord, help us to put on our armor. I know I’ve been sorely lacking in that area.
Anesia stood taller, bracing herself.
Her own words to God flitted through her mind . . . she was afraid to lose Zoya. Kept crying out to God to bring her daughter back, to give her strength to make it through.
And yet, what had she been doing?
Relying on her own strength.
Stubborn, independent Anesia. Out to prove to the world that she didn’t need anyone or anything. Wanting to show everyone that she wasn’t a screw-up. That the unmarried, teen mom grew up to be somebody.
She’d been begging God for help all these years—and she believed He blessed her—but hadn’t thrown off her own shackles. Hadn’t rested in and savored His grace.
With Zoya’s back to her, Anesia knelt in the snow. The one way her daughter could truly find healing would be for Anesia to let go.
Give the reins to God and let Him be in control.
* * *
ZOYA
11:59 a.m.
“I see a beautiful young woman in front of me who loves the Lord . . . and I see that He’s got a mighty plan for you. Don’t you think that the enemy wants you to be angry?”
I stood still, staring out at the trees. Not wanting to think about what Mom said. But then again, I had to.
Was she right?
Could she be right? Or was this just some plan to get me back to being myself?
No, Mom wouldn’t lie. Never had.
But how could I believe what she said? I couldn’t trust Him again. Wouldn’t. Could I?
I wanted to scream. To say it wasn’t fair. To yell and rant and rave about anything and everything. To give God a piece of my mind. To let Him know how I felt.
But what did I say? That the God of the universe wasn’t loving like He promised?
I fell to my knees.
Why? Why have You let all this happen? Why haven’t You been here for me? Why can’t I feel You?
The little voice began its tirade. It was annoying. But comforting all at the same time. “Don’t trust Him, what has He done for you? What good has He done in your life?”
No. No, no, no!
The voice kept chanting, over and over again. I couldn’t get it to stop. The tears came flooding back. Again.
I wanted to let everything out. To cry out to God. But what if He didn’t answer? Was He there like He’d said?
I knew I couldn’t be angry anymore. But that didn’t mean I had to forgive Him, right?
I knew I needed Him. I knew He loved me. I knew it was wrong of me to blame everything on Him. I knew I needed His forgiveness.
But how did I start? How did I apologize for all I had done, thought, said?
God?
I’m sor—
No!
I turned and slammed my hand into the tree trunk.
He didn’t deserve that! If He was God let Him prove it!
God, You’re not doing anything! I can’t feel You!
My shoulders stiffened.
“Be still. . . wait upon the Lord.”
What?
I looked to the sky. My hands shook as I tried to wipe the hair off of my soggy face and searched for a sign. Anything.
God, show me! I don’t see You! I swallowed.
The voice . . . “Don’t listen. He would’ve shown you He was there if He cared.”
He wasn’t there.
I was a champion. My mom was a champion. My dad was a champion. I could beat this. Just persevere. Get it over with.
Right?
Yes. I could get through this. But if God wasn’t there to give me His strength, I’d do it on my own.
I leaned my head against the tree trunk and let myself cry. You’re not here. Where are You?
I sniffed.
I’m fine. I can do this on my own. I was strong and determined. I could do anything. I was a champion.
I sat up straight.
“You don’t need anyone.”
Not a God who says He’s there and isn’t.
I’m fine. Don’t need anyone.
I’m fine . . .
And I could play the part.
* * *
ANESIA
12:14 p.m.
Anesia inched closer to her teen.
Zoya.
Always so quiet. Stoic. Steady. Always had a smile handy and an encouraging word.
As she neared, she watched Zoya’s expression change. Anger, then indecisiveness, then . . . what?
Had she failed her daughter? Was it too late? Zoya’s face seemed cold and hard as the ice underfoot.
“What’s going through that head of yours?”
Zoya looked at her. Almost straight through her. Several seconds passed. Anesia held her breath . . . waiting, hoping. She didn’t know what to do. Didn’t know how to help her daughter. What if she didn’t break free of this oppression? What if the murder had done irreparable damage to Zoya’s psyche?
Had she lost her daughter?
Tears pricked the corners of Anesia’s eyes. Willing them to freeze where they were, she drew in another quick breath. And watched. And prayed.
“Are you worried about the note we found?”
Zoya shook her head, hard.
“Because you know they were just trying to scare us, right?”
A nod.
“Are you worried about me? ’Cause you should know by now that I can handle myself.” Moments stretched. Zoya held her gaze. “Oh, honey, talk to me. Please.”
Zoya’s shoulders crumpled. “Oh, Mom. I’m so sorry.” She ran into Anesia’s arms.
Anesia held her daughter tight. Relief flooded her body making her knees go weak. “I’ve been going about this all wrong. We’ve got a battle to fight.”
“I don’t want to fight any battles. I’m tired. I don’t want to deal with this anymore. I just want to go back to normal.”
“Oh, honey, I wish that were possible. I wish I could take it all away, but I can’t. We’ve got to deal with this and try to move on. You can’t keep pushing people away.”
Her daughter pulled away, looking down. “Maybe that’s what my dream meant.”
“Wanna finally tell me about it?”
“It was about Andie. I was angry and pushed her away. Just like God. But she stayed. And then, when someone tried to kill me, she took the bullet for me.”
“Just like Jesus on the cross.”
“Yeah. But I’m so terrified the dream is gonna come true. So I thought if I stayed angry at God and pushed everyone away, then no one would get hurt on account of me.” Her daughter wouldn’t look her in the eyes. Just stared at the ground, toeing the snow with her boot.
“Oh, Zoya.” She pulled her daughter back into a hug. “Why didn’t you tell me about it? You’ve always talked to me about your dreams.”
“It was too easy to stay angry.” Her daughter looked away again.
Anesia nodded. Knew that feeling all too well.
“And just because you dream something doesn’t mean it’s going to come true.”
“It has before.”
“I know that. But you need to give it over to God. Don’t let fear take over. I’m working on the same thing. Realized that I didn’t have the right to be holding onto you so tight. You belong to Him first, not me.”
Zoya pulled back and straightened. Determination framed her face as she nodded.
“Sure thing, Rainbow. Let’s give Jenna and Andie a call and see if they want to meet us there.”
They walked arm in arm back to the truck. “Now if only my fingers and toes will thaw out before we get there.”
Was it too much to hope that God had given her daughter back? Only time would tell.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
ANESIA
January 16
235 North Santa Claus Lane, North Pole
2:26 p.m.
Anesia’s BlackBerry buzzed as they exited the Country Café in North Pole. “I am so stuffed.” She pulled it from her pocket to check the e-mail.
“Me too, Mom. We need to do this more often.”
“We most certainly do.” It was an e-mail from the service she used. The background check on Sean. Good. It was about time.
As they climbed back into the truck, she took the time to skim the e-mail. A few things caught her eye. Things she’d need to discuss with Sean ASAP. Maybe she should put in another call to Agent Philips.
“Mom?” Zoya’s question brought her out of her thought process.
“Hmm?” There was that face again. That forced smile. Maybe this was harder on Zoya than she thought.
“Could we have a girls’ night tonight?”
She tucked the BlackBerry back into her pocket. “That’s a great idea, honey. Whatcha got in mind?”
“Well, I’m thinking homemade pizza later, popcorn with lots of butter, and . . . Pride and Prejudice.”
“Which one? The five-hour or the two-hour?”
“Well, I like the music and cinematography in the two-hour better, and I love Keira Knightley as Elizabeth Bennet, but the five-hour one is more accurate and has some really great scenes in it.”
Anesia laughed and stared at Zoya. Was she faking it? “When did you go and grow up on me?”
“I haven’t. At least not yet. But I do love a good movie. Especially when it’s based on one of the greatest books of all time.” There. That half-smile again.
Maybe they all needed some normalcy. She didn’t want to pretend nothing was wrong. But maybe if she tried to steer things back to the way they were, then they wouldn’t be reminded of it all. “You got that right. The five-hour one it is. And we’ll make our pizza halfway through to break it up. How’s that?”
“Sounds good.” Zoya placed her hand on Anesia’s shoulder. “And Mom?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m sorry. Again. I’m glad you had the guts to push me. Thanks.”
Normalcy. Yep, that would do the trick. Anesia placed the keys into the ignition and stopped. She turned to face her daughter. “I love you, Zoya. Nothing will ever, ever change that. Just promise to keep talking to me, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Even if you’re angry, you can always talk to me.” She took a deep breath. Might as well go through with it. It might be the only way to get things back to how they were. Before. She knew what she needed to say, but hesitated. It meant placing all her trust in God. There’d be no control on her part. There’d be no guarantees of protection. “And . . . I’ve also made a decision about something else.”
Zoya stared.
“I don’t want to take away your dream, Zoya. I know how much racing means to you, how much it means to me, how much it meant to your father. It’s in your blood.” She took another deep breath. Ugh. This was hard. “So, I want you to keep racing.”
Her daughter’s eyes lit up. “You do?”
“I do.”
“You mean, you’re not afraid something awful will happen?”
“Oh, I’m afraid. That’s for sure.” She grabbed her daughter’s hands. “But God doesn’t give us a spirit of fear, remember?”
“I remember.” Zoya smiled even though she rolled her eyes as she rattled off 2 Timothy 1:7: “‘For God has not given us a spirit of fearfulness, but one of power, love, and sound judgment.’ You made me memorize it and repeat it for my very first race. I couldn’t even see over the handlebar of the sled.”
Anesia allowed herself to chuckle at the memory. “And I know I can’t always protect you, even though I sure do want to. But I know I need to leave all this in the Lord’s hands. We’ll get through this together, okay?”
Her daughter squeezed her hands three times—their signal for I love you. “You’re right, Mom. Thanks.”
Zoya was saying all the right things. And yet . . .
Anesia shook her concern away. If she could just let go. Trust God with it all. With her daughter’s heart and mind, with her recovery and safety. If only she could be at peace and not worry.
But could she do that when a murderer might still be hunting her child?
* * *
SLIM
January 17
Naltsiine Kennels
1:57 a.m.
Green lights lit up the screen of the handheld scanner. So far, so good. All the chips were still in place and protected. Amazing. Technology created to help find people’s precious pets was helping him hide a multi-billion-dollar program.
No one was the wiser.
Three more chips waited in their plastic casings to be implanted. He’d already checked them on the laptop this morning. The information was viable and no longer encrypted. Just wait until he had it all and could put it together.
Technology was impressive. Ten years ago, who woulda thought that 5GB of data could fit on a chip one-tenth the size of his fingernail?
His brittle laugh echoed off the barn walls in the cold air.
Like Ma always said, he was a genius. He just needed to wait for the right plan. The right time. And he had.
Patience would win this game for him.
And he would prove he had patience. Enough to out-wait them all. Then who would be on top?
Him.
He’d hold all the cards.
Then he’d hold the prize.
Leaning over, he stroked the head of another champion. “Good boy.”
* * *
RICK
January 17
Anchorage, Alaska
3:26 a.m.
Zoya ran through the woods chased by an army of armed soldiers. Her screams pierced the air. “Help me! Someone, please help me!”
He tried to follow, but no matter how fast he ran, he couldn’t catch up.
She fell, and the army clothed in black descended upon her like a pack of ravenous wolves. The numbers grew like ants swarming an anthill. More appeared from the trees. More fell from the sky.
“No!” His voice carried on the wind, but no one heard him.
“Uncle! Save me! Please!” The young girl’s cries for help were quickly smothered by the mass of humanity piling on top of her—
Rick sat up with a jolt. Sweat drenched his entire body. If he didn’t do something, he’d never fulfill his promise. His grandfather had been right. He’d burn forever on this earth, be haunted and never allowed to die. The spirits would curse him if he didn’t protect her.
A plan began to form in the back of his mind. He had the resources and the power to do it. Maybe he should find the old tribal elders. Some that believed like his grandfather. They could surely help him find what the spirits required of him to fulfill his promise to his brother and grandfather.
He was the only one left.
He couldn’t let Zoya die.
* * *
SEAN
January 17
Naltsiine Kennels
10:33 a.m.
His brain threatened to explode with all the information Anesia threw at him, but it fascinated him too.
The air was bitter. Colde
r than he’d ever thought possible. Colder than he’d ever felt in Boston. But then again, he’d always ridden in warmed Town Cars, and the Connolly Towers had a special entrance for the family to protect them from the elements of a harsh winter and prying eyes. He never had the privilege of shoveling snow at home. Sean tugged off a glove and glanced down at his hand. Definitely broken-in the past months on the road, but still the hand of a spoiled, office-lounged VP.
The glove slid back on as they moved toward another row of dogs. His eyes darted heavenward again. The sky a deep purple-black. So many stars. He shook his head and forced himself to pay attention and not keep looking up at the sky. Ever since he’d caught a glimpse of the aurora borealis, he watched the sky for more.
Anesia continued explaining. She’d been a little stiffer this morning than she’d been the previous week. Maybe she was overwhelmed and needed him to learn fast. “In the winter we water the dogs in the morning. But we mix a little food in the water. Just enough to flavor it.”
“Why do you mix food in it? Do they need the extra nourishment?” He jotted down notes with a pencil on the small notebook he carried with him. He learned the hard way that most pens wouldn’t write in this kind of cold.
“They won’t drink clear water in the winter.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, it’s just too cold. So it’s kinda like bait to get them to drink enough. They need plenty of hydration, especially to run.”
“Oh. I see.”
“During training season we water them, clean up, and give them an hour and a half of rest before we run them.”
His eyes scanned the kennel full of dogs. Just watering them would take a good bit of time.
“And then we feed them in the afternoon.”