Nina winced and rubbed her newly tattooed arm that he’d just grabbed.
As she lay on the floor, Deshaun made a move as if to kick her, but when he saw the terror in her eyes, he instead laughed loudly and then scornfully watched her.
“You best do somethin’ ‘bout her,” he said to Vivian.
“Don’t do that again, stupid,” Vivian whispered as she bent over the girl.
“You best listen!” Deshaun laughed and strutted away.
Vivian helped the girl up. “What’s wrong with you, Nina?” she said more quietly now.
“Can’t stand no bully,” Nina whispered angrily. She rubbed at her new tatt and glared back toward Deshaun.
Tense, the three women hurried her away to a back room.
Deshaun turned his attention to what he called his “treasured collection” — bags of marijuana, crack, and cocaine. On an adjoining table lay assault rifles, handguns, semi-automatic shotguns, .357 magnums, and silencers.
“Yeah, buddy! That’s what Deshaun talkin’ ’bout!” he said loudly and strode from the front of the house to the back room where the girls were. “One of you bimbos fix me a drank!” he shouted. “Then all you best go get yo’ butts ready. We got company coming.”
Vivian poured a generous gin and juice into a large black-and-gold-embossed goblet, which Deshaun called his pimp glass. “Here you go, Daddy,” she said.
“Bring it closer, Vivian. Daddy ain’t gon’ bite you. Might beat you down, but ain’t gon’ bite you.” He threw back his head and laughed. After taking a sip, he burped loudly. “Yo’ butt gettin’ old but Deshaun keepin’ Vivian around,” he said, lifting his pimp glass up and looking at it. “Yeah, old gal Vivian make the best gin and juice this side the Mississippi.”
Vivian pasted on a brittle smile and stood silently before Deshaun as he continued to smirk and sip. After a moment he waved her away.
Her stilettos clicked on the hardwood floor as she rejoined the other women.
He sat sipping — knowing that the women were primping for the evening with bold lipsticks, false lashes, and perfumes.
At least they betta be, he thought and grinned. “Bouts to make me some straight-up cash!” Deshaun shouted to no one in particular, rubbed his hands together, and took another swig of gin and juice.
Chapter
18
“What should I do?” Laura said to herself as she pulled into the driveway, expecting to see Tyler’s pickup. Glancing next at her watch, she realized he’d already left for work. Feelings of both relief and disappointment washed over her. She sat frozen for a moment, staring at the car’s clock and then toward the divorce documents the lawyer had given her to review. They lay ominously, larger than life, on the passenger seat next to her.
I can’t believe it’s come to this, she thought, massaging her temples. Grief overtook her, replaced quickly by anxiety and panic at the thought of going into the empty, sad house. I can’t do this. She nearly put the car into reverse but instead sat frozen, for a moment more, clenching the steering wheel. She inhaled deeply. No, she reconsidered. I have to face this.
Laura exited her car, slamming the door behind her. The August sun beat down upon the top of her head. She whisked her dark hair back and trudged forward, bypassing the main house, and unlatching the back gate to make her way to her workshop. The smell of her paints and the sight of her collection always soothed her.
Once inside, she removed the canvas from the current piece she was working on, A Fetching Face. She stared at the painting of her husband.
“I still love you, Tyler,” she said softly. Laura’s thoughts drifted back to when she’d first fallen in love with him.
The two had become inseparable. They’d spent time together on fun-filled dates, in stolen quick moments after Tyler’s second state football championship game, and with family and friends at Tyler’s high school graduation. His senior year, her junior year, had come and gone. July had arrived. Tyler was set to leave in a few days for Butler University on a full football scholarship.
On one of those days, Tyler had asked her out on a date.
“Where are we going?”
“You’ll see,” he said and chuckled.
Tyler and Laura rode out that early evening — holding hands, laughing, and humming along to Savage Garden. As Tyler continued driving for thirty minutes past Mannford, Laura glanced quizzically at him. “Close your eyes,” he’d said and squeezed her hand as he slowed the truck.
Laura hesitated then complied.
Ty rolled onto a dirt road and continued a couple of minutes more before he brought the truck to a stop. “Keep your eyes closed,” he said again.
Laura shook her head but then relented, keeping her eyes firmly shut.
Tyler jumped out of the truck and ran around to Laura’s side. “You can open your eyes now.”
Laura inhaled deeply, taking in the sheer beauty of the towering pines, the Indian Paintbrush wild flowers, a quaint cabin up the gravel path, and the wooden dock that looked out upon a pristine lake. “Oh my goodness, Ty! This place is gorgeous!”
Tyler grinned. “It is a little slice of heaven, isn’t it? Dad and Mom rent this place as often as they can. We’ve been coming here since I was about ten years old.” Tyler grinned at his girlfriend. “They come down here to fish and for boating and — you name it. Dad and Mom rent, but one day I’m going to buy this all,” Tyler said, sweeping his hand to include the whole scene.
“I can see why you’d want to. It is so beautiful, Ty.”
“It is,” he agreed, holding out his hand to her. She grabbed it and Tyler led her through sweet-smelling summer grass to a dock that looked out on the lake. The two sat on the dock and watched as boats floated by in the distance. “Wait right here,” Tyler said, jumping back to his feet.
“What are you up to?” Laura yelled after Tyler as he jogged back toward the truck. As she sat crossed legged on the deck, she cupped her brow at the descending sun, thoroughly enjoying the slight breeze blowing in off the lake. Glancing around, she breathed in the rich aroma of flowers and grass.
Dusk had settled over her, and she wondered what was taking Tyler so long. As though reading her mind, Tyler reappeared, holding a picnic basket full of chicken salad, sweet tea, chips, and Laura’s favorite — peanut butter brownies. The two ate together, laughing and enjoying each other’s company.
When Laura thought about their growing affection and this precious time together, tears smarted at the corners of her eyes. She glanced around again. “This is all absolutely beaut—”
Before she could finish, Tyler leaned forward to touch her lips and look intently into her eyes. She could feel his breath against her cheek as he pulled her head toward him and kissed her softly.
At that moment, Laura fell head over heels in love with Tyler.
After the sun had set, with the stars shining brilliantly above them, Tyler and Laura had sat and cuddled together.
Remembering that sweet moment, Laura gently pressed her fingers to the lips of Tyler’s painted likeness. “How I wish you’d love me like you did before.”
Reluctantly, she turned and made her way up the path from her studio, retrieved the divorce papers from her car, and let herself into the house. When she opened the door, she stopped short in the front foyer. At the same time, her fingers loosened their grip on the divorce papers, causing them to flutter to the floor. She walked forward slowly with her hands on her cheeks to bookend her mouth, as it gaped in wonder.
Rose petals in her favorite color of yellow lay before her, as though lovingly placed on the floor and the furniture. Filling the room were the sounds of Ed Sheeran’s “Perfect,” one of the songs she and Tyler had added to their playlist. She allowed the rose petals to lead her into the kitchen and turned around, breathing in the wonderful aroma of Tyler’s specialty, Lemon-Garlic Baked Fish. Sh
e saw that he’d made rice and salad as well. There on the counter sat a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon, her favorite wine, alongside one of the fancy wine goblets they’d received as a wedding gift.
Tyler made me dinner. Her eyes teared up with the thought. He’d placed several Post-It notes, starting in the kitchen, that pointed to the dinner table. With the delight of a child, she laughed, threw her arms up in the air, and twirled around. She poured a bit of wine, took a sip, and carried the goblet with her as she followed the path of the Post-Its to the dining room. Tyler had set the table with her best china. A lumpy, folded-over piece of paper lay on one of the china plates. Inside the folded paper she found several chocolate kisses. Laura took the letter and her wine goblet to her rocking couch. Curling her legs beneath her, she unfolded the note.
Laura, I’ve been thinking nonstop about us, sweetheart. I just wanted to let you know that I heard you. I heard you, and I see you, honey. Now I see the tremendous effort you put into yourself, into us, and into your artistic talent. I couldn’t get you out of my mind today. Seeing the heartbreak in your eyes really tore me up. I regret the role I’ve played in letting our relationship deteriorate. I apologize to you, honey. From now on, I’m going to work hard on our marriage.
Though she hadn’t finished reading, Laura paused and dropped her hand to her lap, still clutching the note. Tears had begun to run down her cheeks. She couldn’t believe what she was reading. She and Tyler had struggled through nearly two years of constant turmoil. They argued over how each of them spent their time — his at work at the P.D., and hers at the studio — and about when to have children. It seemed as if every day they were fighting about the stress and pressures of their lives. All of these conflicts had created a chasm between them that neither had seemed willing to cross. Now here she sat, reading a love note from Tyler. “This . . . this is unbelievable,” Laura said softly to herself. Suddenly all the emotions that she’d kept pent up inside over the years now came gushing out. She bent her head to her hands and wept. After a time she lifted Tyler’s note, touched it to her heart, and continued to read.
You’ve been talking, but I haven’t been listening. Let’s give us another chance. Let’s start a new life together.
I can’t wait to be with you tonight. My ears are open to listen and my eyes to see. I’ll be back soon, my Laura.
I love you!
Tyler
Laura clutched the note to her heart and let fresh tears flow. “Tyler — oh honey!”
For the past hour, Jan had been praying steadfastly, battling in the spirit for Laura and her son Tyler. At first she felt complete anguish for the two. Her stomach had been tied up in knots, but suddenly assurance and absolute peace washed over her. She’d heard the Lord’s sweet words: Trust Me for Tyler and Laura.
“Yes, Lord,” she said. She placed her hand on her heart, free now from the fear and worry that had swept over her earlier as she glimpsed the hopeless look in Laura’s eyes. She stood and pushed her walker to the picture window and looked out over the beautifully manicured palm trees and firebush flowers that lined the street at the Manor Ridge of Mannford, her assisted-living facility. The rays from the August sun shone softly in, washing over her in a radiant orange that promised a brilliant sunset to come.
“Thank You, Lord. Thank You! I trust You for Tyler and Laura.”
Tyler grabbed a cup of coffee and joined his fellow officers in the briefing room. Commander Holfield stood before the second-shift officers to brief them about a crowd of protesters that had begun to gather. So far the number of those gathered was decidedly smaller than it had been at the same time the night before. He passed on the report that the first-shift officers were standing their ground and keeping the crowd under control. Tyler knew that he and his fellow officers needed to prepare for the worst but hope for the best.
“Okay, ladies and gents,” Commander Holfield summed up. “I’m glad to say, tentatively, that this thing seems to be dying down. We are going to play it by ear tonight. Be ready for any eventuality, though. For now, dispatch to your wards.”
“Yes sir,” Tyler and the other officers assented. As Tyler and his partner, Chris, headed toward the door, Commander Holfield’s voice stopped them.
“Forsythe and Haney! Wait a minute,” he said. “You’ve got Ward 6 until we figure out this mess with our officer and Darrelle Moseley.”
“Will do, Commander,” Tyler replied dutifully, although he inwardly groaned while exchanging an incredulous glance with Chris.
Neither said anything until they had exited the station. “Hey, Chris,” began Tyler, finally ready to voice what he knew they both felt about that assignment. “Ward 6 is still a tinderbox. You ready for our time in paradise?”
“Of course, Ty,” Chris replied with a wry smile that didn’t make it up to his eyes.
Chapter
19
As Al sat, holding Misty tight, a series of thoughts began to work on him. That Wickford guy offered me a job back in Seattle. Why don’t I leave this city? Go where I can provide adequately for my wife. Look at her — eyes all swollen, lip busted. Living in a third-rate apartment. What was I thinking? Bringing her here was an awful idea. I can earn three times more than I make here. No one’s showing up for prayer; my congregation is not growing. I’m a guy with a degree in computer science who’s cleaning a church building. What’s wrong with me?
“Maybe we should leave here,” Al whispered.
Misty said nothing, but he could feel her tremble in his arms.
Al felt torn. He knew God had called him to this place. He had just finished a wonderful prayer time in which he’d felt God’s presence so strongly. But he hadn’t bargained for this. Misty was his love. He couldn’t stand to see her attacked. And what if the man came back?
“Help, Lord, help,” he cried out. “Help my Misty, O Lord — and me!”
As Al prayed, the wall he was facing seemed to fade away. In its place was a thick mist, and he could see something happening beyond it. A battle of some kind, a spiritual battle. He stiffened and gazed with amazement and terror. In his spirit, but still as though through a thick cloud, Al watched as divergent beings battled, clashed, and warred.
Instinctively his arms tightened around his wife, who seemed to be unaware of the scene taking place before him. Somehow Al knew that the evil beings were battling to undermine his soul — warring to make him wary, clashing to keep him from completing the tasks to which he was regally called. Though he sat frozen, a peace-filled knowledge slowly settled on him: The battle belongs to the Lord. The Lord had won the victory for him.
As though breathing for the first time, he inhaled and exhaled deeply. “Praise You, Jesus. Praise You, Lord God.” Over and over he repeated his gratitude. The vision faded. Al felt a supernatural infusion of strength, courage, and assurance that all would be well.
Continue here, Al, a still, small Voice told his mind. You will be for many as a beacon in the night.
“It’s going to be all right, Misty girl,” he said and kissed the top of her head. “We’re going to get through this together. With the Lord by our side, we’re going to get through this.”
“I know we will, Al,” Misty said, her voice still faltering. “The Lord just told me that no weapon formed against us will prosper.”
“Amen, Misty girl.” Al hugged her tight. He wiped her tears away, and together they stood. He led her by the hand to the bathroom and gently washed her wounded face, taking care not to apply too much pressure on the bruises. He helped her change her clothes, then held her firmly in his arms. “You and I, with God’s help, are going to make it through this. I love your tenacity, strength, and faith. The Lord is here with us and has great plans for us both.” Al wanted to comfort her the way the Holy Spirit had comforted and encouraged him.
“I believe, Al. I believe you, and I believe our God,” Misty told him.
“Amen.” As the two stood together entrusting themselves to God, Al again felt the Lord emblazon and embolden him. It seemed that just as Al held Misty in his arms, so the Lord Almighty held them both within His arms.
With their strength renewed, Al and Misty went through their apartment, picking up the scattered items, cleaning, and continuing to pray. “We’ve got to make a trip downtown to fill out a police report, Misty,” Al said, though he regretted having to bring up what had happened.
“I know, honey. The officers told me,” Misty said, looking deeply into her husband’s eyes.
Al stared back, amazed by the strength he saw there. His heart was encouraged.
“Let’s go and get it over with. Okay?” Misty whispered.
“Yeah, let’s go,” Al said. “We better take your car, though. My car really acted up today.”
Twenty minutes later, Al and Misty pulled up to Precinct 40, a few miles from their apartment.
Al massaged Misty’s shoulder in an attempt to encourage her. “You okay, honey? You sure you want to do this today?”
“Yes, I’d rather just put this behind us.”
“What a day it’s been.” He exhaled, shaking his head in disbelief. “Well, I’m thankful that at least your car is in good condition.”
Misty smiled lightly, then leaned over and kissed her husband. “The Lord is by our side, no matter what.”
“Amen, sweet sister,” Al said and returned her kiss. “You ready?”
When she nodded, he got out of the driver’s side and walked to her door. “Let’s go, then.”
Inside the precinct, Al introduced the two of them to the officer at the front desk and explained why they were there.
“Have a seat, Mr. and Mrs. Shepherd,” the officer said. “Let me pull your paperwork, and I’ll be right with you.”
They sat at the officer’s desk, one of many in a large open area filled and busy with officers dressed in blues and plain clothes. Both victims and perpetrators were seated throughout the large room. Al and Misty got an eyeful watching battered women crying and across the aisle from them, a man drunk and slumped over.
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