Burning Proof

by Janice Cantore

  “I’ll fix lunch, so come down as soon as you’re ready.” Frown still in place, Dede closed the door and Abby heard her head downstairs.

  Abby got up and felt like lead. It was all she could do to get herself into the shower. She stood under the hot water for a long time. When she finally made it downstairs, her hair was still wet and she wore comfortable sweats with only socks on her feet.

  Abby noticed the strange look on her aunt’s face and ignored it.

  Dede had made sandwiches and set out a colorful salad. When Abby sat, Dede said a blessing. “Thank you for the food and your many blessings, and for bringing Abby home for a visit.” She smiled and squeezed Abby’s hand.

  Abby made it through half of her sandwich and some salad before she wanted to excuse herself, but Dede stopped her.

  “Abby, if I thought that you were tired from your drive, I would let this go. But this is not like you.”

  “I am tired from the drive. I just want to go back to bed.” She started to rise.

  Her aunt held a hand up. “Wait; I have something for you. I wanted to give it to you last night. Before you run off to hibernate, I’ll give it to you now.”

  Abby sat back down and felt irritated at the comment about hibernating. Was that what she was doing? Did it matter? She’d not had any dreams since she went back to bed, where it was safe, warm. That was where Abby wanted to stay. No thinking, no talking, just sleeping.

  “Remember Uncle Simon?” Dede asked.

  Abby frowned. “Remember? I never knew him. He’s in jail. He killed a guy.”

  “Yes, he’s in jail. He’s also come to faith. He started corresponding with me about a year ago. I knew him when I was a kid. He and your father were both wild young men. Unfortunately Simon’s wild streak landed him in jail and . . . well, you know the rest.”

  Abby did know the rest. Not because anyone had told her, but because it was an issue she’d researched as she investigated her parents’ murders. Since her dad had disowned his brother after Simon was convicted of homicide, one theory was that Simon ordered a hit on her parents from prison. It was a theory that went nowhere, and she’d never even felt it necessary to speak to him.

  “He’s asked about you, wondered how you were doing. Of course he’s read about you and the Triple Seven investigation.”

  “Lots of convicts claim to have jailhouse conversions.” Abby was not at all certain she wanted to get to know an uncle who would be in prison for the rest of his life.

  “I know that. But he seems sincere, and he’d like to meet you.” Smiling despite Abby’s look of disbelief, Dede went on. “In his letter from a couple of weeks ago, he told me he’d read about the situation with Gavin Kent and the governor and you. Remember, he grew up with Lowell Rollins just like your father did. He enclosed a note for you. I’ve prayed about the right time to give it to you. That time is now.”

  “I don’t know what to say.” This was an avenue Abby had never examined, a line of investigation she’d never even considered pursuing. And it opened up an old sore: what was the truth about her parents’ homicides?

  “I know that he and your dad had their issues, but read the letter. Maybe visit him. It can’t hurt to talk to him, and it might even help you with the picture you have of your dad.” Dede pulled a letter from her sweater pocket. She held it out, but Abby didn’t immediately take it. “He is family. And he knew your father. Part of your angst about this shooting may have something to do with all that nonsense about your dad still being alive.”

  Abby said nothing.

  “No strings if you don’t want to see him,” Dede said when Abby finally took the letter. “He enclosed a visitor form. You have to sign it and send it back. Once you’re approved to visit, he’ll call and tell you. Of course, if you don’t want to have anything to do with him, don’t sign the form.”

  “I’ll read it and think about it,” Abby said, holding the correspondence but not really knowing what she wanted to do with it. Why was it so hard to think?

  Dede got up to clear plates and do the dishes. After a few minutes Abby opened the envelope and took out the letter.

  Abigail . . . that’s a pretty name. It was my grandmother’s. Did you know that you were named after your great-grandmother? I have had so many years to think about what to say to you, and now that I’m finally writing, I’m at a loss. We’ve never met, and there’s no reason you would want to meet me. Except you are the only family I have now, aren’t you? I’m doing my time in Tehachapi State. If you’re ever in the area, I’ve signed a visitor form. Fill out your portion and mail it back if you want to talk.

  Uncle Simon

  Abby stared at the form with her uncle’s signature on it. She noted the part she must fill out to be approved for visitation.

  Dede said she’d been exchanging letters with him. She knew him when she was a kid.

  What could it hurt?

  Abby read the note a couple more times before putting it down. Dede had left a pen on the table. Abby picked it up and filled out the visitor form. She put it into the envelope and sealed it, setting it on the table.

  There was no way to know how long it would take for her to be approved for visiting. It could take months, knowing the state of California. A lot could happen between now and then.

  “Great! You decided to sign it.” Dede picked up the envelope. “I’ll put a stamp on it and get it in the mail.”

  Abby sat back and thought about her uncle. He was a year older than her dad would have been, but he’d been in prison for longer than her dad had been dead. What was Simon like? Was he like her dad? Was he a typical convict? The fog in her brain lifted for a minute as she pondered this new wrinkle. But it was only for a minute and then Abby returned to bed.

  She got away with spending most of her time in bed until Saturday. That morning Dede burst into her bedroom early. “Okay, okay, enough of this. It’s time to get up.”

  Abby grimaced and squinted against the light of a bright sunrise. “I’m tired. I don’t want to get up.”

  Dede faced her, hands on hips. “Abby, I’m not going to allow this. If you want to hide from the world, you can do it at your house.”

  “Are you kicking me out?”

  “If I have to. Right now you need to get up. We’re going visiting. We’re going to see what Ethan has been up to.”

  “What if I don’t want to go visiting?”

  “You’re not going to sleep your life away in my house. If I have to kick you out, I will.”

  “I’m not a child.”

  “Then stop acting like one. It’s time to get to the bottom of what’s bothering you, and you can’t do that hiding under the covers. I’ll pray with you, I’ll listen to you if you want to talk, I’ll take you to talk to a pastor if that is what you need, but I won’t watch you do this.”

  Abby flung the blanket off, furious with her aunt. “You have no right to treat me like a silly teenager! You don’t know what I’ve been through.”

  Dede held her ground. “No, I don’t. But I know that you’ve been through a lot of bad stuff in your life. You’ve never faced any of it by hiding. That will solve nothing. Problems have to be faced; that’s the only way to solve them.”

  For a second they stared at one another.

  “I’m putting the dogs in the car. You have twenty minutes to shower and get dressed. If you can’t do that, then you can pack up and get ready to go home. I won’t watch you hide.”

  Dede turned and left the room, leaving Abby staring at empty space.

  Abby went to the bureau and grabbed her suitcase, intending to pack and leave, fuming that her aunt was so insensitive. Self-pity swirled inside and boiled over. So much for home being a safe place.

  I’ve been through trauma upon trauma.

  She should understand.

  I’ll show her.

  She is mean and heartless.

  She shoved her clothes into the case and then reached for her Triple Seven notebook. She was about to t
oss it into her backpack when the verse she’d written on the cover caught her eye. It was her work verse, Hebrews chapter 4 verse 13:

  And no creature is hidden from his sight, but all are naked and exposed to the eyes of him to whom we must give account.

  You can run but you can’t hide.

  It was a verse she’d always felt applied to criminals, to the evil people she hunted.

  How can it possibly apply to me?

  She looked at the bed, still mussed and unmade, and knew that it did apply to her right now. She was hiding; she didn’t want to face all the issues knocking on her heart: the shooting, the lack of clear closure regarding her father, and her own attitude right now.

  It isn’t fair. God isn’t fair, and this is all his fault.

  Pierced, she sat down on the bed as tears started. Something seemed to break inside, and the oppression she’d felt for the past few days lifted.

  Dede is right. I’ve run and now I’m trying to hide.

  Holding the book close to her chest, she let the tears fall, crying for Clayton, Althea, Adonna, and a little bit for herself. She wasn’t sure how long she sat there, but after the tears ended, she felt drained and brittle but somewhat better.

  Grabbing a Kleenex, she stood, put the book down and her clothes back in the bureau, and hoped Dede hadn’t left. Blowing her nose and stepping to the window, she saw that Dede’s Jeep was still there. Abby hurried to shower, dress, and catch up with her aunt.

  CHAPTER

  -25-

  SATURDAY MORNING Woody hit the button to start the coffee brewing. He stretched and then sat at the table to peruse the paper while awaiting his caffeine fix. For nearly thirty-five years he’d worked graveyard or afternoon shift and loved it. He’d never wanted to work days. Now, retired and out of uniform, he found he loved the feeling of normalcy and looked forward to meeting up with Luke to work more on the Molly Cavanaugh case.

  His phone buzzed and he frowned. It was a PD extension; it would be Abby if she were there, but he knew that she was still out of town.

  He answered the call, surprised to hear Bill Roper on the other end.

  “Bill, what’s up? Anything wrong?”

  “Yes, as a matter of fact. I got a call from a patrol unit on my day off. Abby’s house was burglarized last night.”

  “What? She’s not there. She’s—”

  “I know. She’s out of state. She had her friend Jessica Brennan house-sitting.”

  “Jessica? I know Jessica. Is she okay?”

  Bill chuckled. “She is. In fact, I bet the burglar is worse off. Apparently she woke up and confronted him. He was going through files in Abby’s office. She says he was as surprised to see her as she was to see him.”

  “He knew Abby was gone.”

  “Yep. The short story is, Jessica got in some well-placed kicks and the guy fled limping and bleeding. Officers were out fast but didn’t pick up his trail, and nothing is missing that Jessica can see.”

  “She’s okay?”

  “A little shaken, and she might have sprained a finger, but she’s okay. The reason I called is, well, she doesn’t want to tell Abby until Abby gets back. She doesn’t want to ruin Abby’s vacation. That doesn’t sit well with me. I’d want to know, if it was me. But you know Abby better than anyone. What do you think?”

  The coffeemaker beeped. Woody rubbed his chin. “Give me a minute to think.”

  He poured a cup of coffee and left it steaming on the counter before responding. “Offhand, if nothing is missing and Jessica is okay, I’d say let it go. Abby will be mad when she gets back, but she’ll get to enjoy her time off. Did Jessica get a good look at this guy?”

  “Not a great look, but she’s working with a sketch artist. She did bloody his nose, so there is DNA, but . . .”

  His voice trailed off and Woody knew why. No loss, no one hurt—the department would not pay to have the DNA analyzed. Woody poured his coffee and took a scalding gulp.

  “What bothers me,” Bill continued, “is that he was obviously looking for something. What if this is related to the Triple Seven?”

  “I can’t see why it would be. But I understand why you’d think that. The Joiner case is hot—hot enough that people would burglarize Abby’s house?”

  “The protests have been loud, but mostly confined to the main station, so I doubt this is related to the shooting.”

  “Let me talk to Luke. He’s got a stake in the Triple Seven as well. I’ll call you in a couple of hours. You can hold off a decision that long, can’t you?”

  “Yeah. But I can’t promise anything if Abby happens to phone or text and ask how things are going. I’ll tell her.”

  “I doubt she’ll do that. If she’s smart, the last thing she’s thinking about right now is the PD. And Abby is smart.”

  CHAPTER

  -26-

  DEDE WAS LEANING against the Jeep, looking down at Scout, when Abby hurried out of the house. Arms folded, Dede looked up. “Are you okay?”

  “I don’t know.” She held up the package of Oreos she’d grabbed on the way out and tried a weak smile.

  “I’ve been waiting for over an hour. I thought maybe I was too hard on you.”

  “Maybe,” Abby said. “What you said stung. But it also made me realize that I wasn’t finding any answers in bed.” Abby shook her head. “I still want to crawl into a hole and never come out. I’ve never felt this way before, but maybe you’re right—it’s no way to solve a problem.”

  Dede stepped forward and held her arms out. Abby fell into a tight hug. “So glad to see a little light in your eyes again,” she whispered in Abby’s ear.

  “So much is jumbled in my mind right now, I can’t even pray. Maybe I need to think about something else for a while.” Abby pushed back from the hug. “We’re going visiting?”

  “Yeah, hop in. I think you’ll be impressed by Ethan’s project.” Dede wiped her eyes and jumped into the driver’s seat.

  “A church over in Butte Falls burned down a few months ago,” Dede explained as they drove. “So a lot of other churches in the valley have come together to rebuild a sanctuary. Since Ethan specializes in building things in the mission field, he’s running the show, and he’s doing a great job.”

  Ethan had been born and raised in Butte Falls. Abby had met him in a small church there before getting to know him better in youth group.

  “Have you been working with Ethan?” Abby asked.

  “There’s a lot to do. I’ve been helping a little and will be more involved next week.”

  When Abby said nothing, Dede clarified. “We haven’t been talking about you, if that’s what you’re worried about. He’s excited about you taking time off but worried about you at the same time.”

  Abby sighed. “I’ve had a lot of time to think about our relationship. I wonder . . . maybe Ethan is right. Maybe I should just marry him, quit my job, and be a missionary wife.”

  Dede slowed the Jeep as they passed through minuscule downtown Lake Creek. She grunted her displeasure. “You go to the mission field because you’re called, not because your life hits a hard patch.”

  “But maybe this is a sign that I am called.”

  Dede laughed. “Abby, you get married because you love someone and you desire to raise a family and be together for life. I’ve known Ethan since he was little. He’s always known he was called to travel, to build and plant. You never were. I’ve wondered about the attraction, but I do believe that if you are both committed to God and each other, everything would eventually work out for the best. To travel the way Ethan travels on the mission field, you need to be called and totally committed.”

  “What if I can’t be a cop?”

  “Abby, you don’t go on the mission field because you can’t do anything else. Stop using today’s strength for tomorrow’s trials. Give yourself time.”

  They reached the building site about thirty-five minutes later. The place was active and busy. Work trucks were everywhere, and two cement truck
s were lined up behind a third that was pouring concrete into the mold for the foundation.

  “I don’t see Ethan right now. Let’s go meet Pastor Cliff.”

  Dede led Abby to a man on crutches, who was missing the lower half of one leg. Around him were several children and a woman holding a baby.

  The man smiled. “Dede, glad you could make it.”

  “Wouldn’t miss it. Pastor Cliff, I want you to meet my niece, Abby, up from Long Beach for a visit.”

  “Ah, Ethan’s friend.” The pastor smiled broadly as he shook Abby’s hand. “He speaks of you often. It’s my pleasure to finally meet you.”

  Introductions were made all around. Abby learned that Pastor Cliff and his wife had four children. He was a man full of hope and enthusiasm, despite having a body crippled from a car accident that cost him his leg.

  “Ethan is meeting with the main contractor, firming things up for next week when we plan to push hard to finish everything.” Pastor Cliff excused himself and stepped away from Dede and Abby to talk to the concrete men.

  One truck left and another pulled in. Abby learned from Dede that the small congregation Pastor Cliff served could not pay him a living wage even when they’d had a set meeting place. After the church burned, they’d moved from place to place and attendance had dropped. He’d taken a part-time job to supplement his income and was extremely grateful for the help with the new building.

  Already partly finished, the foundation would be completed today, and then framing was scheduled to start next week. An army of volunteers would descend on the site and get the building up and enclosed in record time.

  “This is the most important phase,” Pastor Cliff said when he returned. “The foundation.” He looked at Abby. “The foundation is a vital part, whether it be your foundation in faith firmly set in Christ or the foundation to build firmly set in concrete. That’s why I wanted to be here, to pray and watch the hard work that goes into it.”

  Abby looked away from his perusal and wondered why his words seemed meant specifically for her even though he was speaking to many people.