Smiling, Zeke extended his hand. “I’m Zeke.”
The man stared at the proffered hand but made no move to shake it.
Zeke let his hand drop, but kept his smile in place. “Do you know a man named James Summers?”
The man’s eyebrows dropped and his lips curled into a scowl. “That name ain’t gonna win you any points ‘round this place and if you’re one of his druggie buddies, you can turn right around and walk out the way you walked in.”
Zeke blinked. Such animosity! “No drugs.”
The man didn’t look convinced.
Lord?
Tread carefully. Tell him what happened to James.
“James was murdered earlier.”
The man grunted. “He deserved it. Guy like that probably had lots of people gunning for him.”
No one deserved what James got. Zeke held the words inside. “Why do you say that?”
The man’s eyes narrowed. “You a cop?”
“No. I volunteer at the shelter downtown and met James there. I…” Images of James’ bloody corpse shot through his memory. “I found him this morning.”
“If you’re not a cop, what’re you doin’ askin’ around about this?”
“James left me a message at the shelter pointing me to this gym. I’m just following up on it.”
The man stared at him, weighing his honesty.
“What did James do to you?”
“Peddled his junk to my boxers. This place may not look like much, but I run a clean business. My guys don’t need drugs to perform.”
Zeke looked around the well-maintained gym. “Actually, it looks like you’ve done great things with this place. More than that, you’re providing an outlet for kids to keep them out of trouble, am I right?”
The hardness around the man’s eyes softened. “I try. But guys like James pop in here like they own the place and give samples to my clients. I taught him to think twice ‘bout that.”
“When did you last see him?”
The man uncrossed his arms and relaxed his stance. “About a week ago. Hadn’t seen James for a long time, but then I caught him sneakin’ around and reminded him that he ain’t welcome.”
If James had been in prison, that might explain why he hadn’t been around for a while. “Did you ask him why he was here?”
The man snorted. “I told ‘im to take his drugs and leave and he tried to tell me he was clean. Course I wasn’t buyin’ it, and he scurried outta here like the cockroach he is.”
Why would James come back here?
Whatever his reasons, he likely hadn’t shared them with the proprietor. “Does the name Bethany mean anything to you?”
The man swept his hand toward the boxing rings behind him. “This look like the kinda place chicks work out?”
So that was a no. Okay. “What about the number sixty-seven?”
The man shrugged. “That could mean a lotta things.”
He was right. If Bethany didn’t connect to this place, maybe sixty-seven didn’t either.
A locker. God’s voice echoed so loudly it felt like the man in front of him ought to be able to hear it.
“Where are your lockers?”
The man’s eyes narrowed again. “You think he left somethin’ in one of my lockers?”
“Maybe. Do you have a locker sixty-seven?”
“Better believe I do.”
The man whirled and stalked across the room.
Was he supposed to follow?
Well, whether he was supposed to or not, he was going to. James had trusted him with this information and he was going to see it through.
As he passed one of the rings, the two Chinese guys in it stopped boxing and stared at him.
One of them made a derogatory slur in Mandarin, causing the other to chuckle.
Zeke smiled. Not because what the man said was anything to smile about, but because God loved the guy regardless.
“God bless you, brother,” he replied, also in Mandarin.
The man’s mouth fell open. His friend stared at Zeke as though he’d sprouted wings.
Zeke’s smile grew as he passed them. Ah, it was fun to see the impact God’s gifts had on others.
As he followed the proprietor into the locker room, the man glanced at him. “You understand those guys? I can hardly understand ‘em when they speak English.”
“God gives me understanding. It’s a gift from Him.”
The man arched an eyebrow but didn’t say anything. Instead, he turned and led the way past two rows of lockers and halfway down the third row. “Here we are. Sixty-seven.”
A heavy padlock secured the door.
Hmmm. James hadn’t left him a combination. Was this what Bethany was supposed to know?
The man jerked on the lock and grunted. “I’ll grab some bolt cutters.”
Well, that would work.
Three minutes passed before the man returned and cut off the lock. The door swung open to reveal a black duffel bag. Blotches of dried dirt gave it a marbled appearance.
Zeke picked up the bag.
Heavy. Surprisingly so.
He set it on the bench and unzipped it. A rough square box sat in the bag, several dials with numbers situated on top.
“That a safe?” The man stared at the contents of the bag.
Safe? Is that what he was seeing?
Yes.
God, what am I supposed to do with this?
Take it with you.
Of course. Lord, please grant me favor with this man.
He turned to the man. “May I take this?”
The man shrugged. “Not mine, so go for it. Rather send it with you than some of the lowlifes James hung around.”
“Thank you.” Re-zipping the bag, Zeke hefted it over his shoulder. “May the Lord smile upon you.”
He may as well have suggested the man set fire to his own building and burn with it. A small shake of the head and the man moved away. “Right.”
Lord, soften his heart toward you.
Zeke followed him out of the locker room. The two Chinese men watched him pass, but said nothing. In Mandarin or English. Zeke said a prayer for them, too.
Such need. All around him.
He walked the ten blocks back to Loving Hands and went into the kitchen. It was late enough in the afternoon that lunch cleanup was complete but early enough that dinner prep hadn’t started.
Setting the bag on the counter, he unzipped it and examined the safe.
It was small, no larger than a shoebox. Four dials. All set at zero.
Where had James gotten a safe? And why? What had he possessed that was valuable enough to have in a safe, inside a secured locker?
Only one way to find out.
Lord, what’s the combination?
Find Bethany.
The mysterious Bethany. The one who would know.
Who is she, Lord? Where will I find her?
La Hacienda apartments on Triangle Street. I will show you the way.
Thank you, Lord.
He zipped the bag closed and checked the time. Dinner prep would begin in thirty minutes. He’d go as soon as they were done.
Whoever Bethany was, whatever her connection to James, she may hold the key to the puzzle before him.
And possibly to James’ murder.
Three
The rest of the day passed in a blur for Bethany. Autopilot kicked in as she fixed dinner and ate with her kids. She listened to their stories, all the while wondering when and how she was going to tell them that they’d never see their dad.
JJ was the one she was most concerned about. At eight years old, he was not only old enough to still have some memories of James, he was also old enough to have some concept of the idea of death.
She just hoped they wouldn’t ask if James had gone to heaven.
Phoning work to instigate a day of bereavement leave had been awkward, especially since they hadn’t even known she was married, but she’d managed to get out of her shift for
the evening. While she couldn’t afford to miss work, her kids needed her more tonight.
The harder conversation had been calling Olive to cancel babysitting for the night. Olive’s sympathy had almost brought her to tears.
After they’d cleaned up the dishes, she sat them down at the table and looked at each one.
Pain stabbed her heart. She saw James in all of them.
JJ, who had inherited her blond curls and light coloring, stared back at her with James’ bright blue eyes.
Pete was the mirror image of pictures she’d seen of James at that age.
Even little Becca had James’ brown hair and easy smile.
Oh, Lord. What do I do?
No voice boomed.
“Mom?” JJ’s eyebrows pinched over those startlingly blue eyes.
It was time to deal with it. “I found out something about your father today.”
How did she sound so calm?
Hope lit JJ’s eyes. “Is he coming home?”
The weight crushing her intensified. “No, honey, he’s not.”
Her throat closed up, choking the words she knew she needed to say.
JJ looked at her warily. Pete was just curious. And Becca poked at a scratch on the worn wooden table.
“I’m…” Her voice failed. She cleared her throat and blinked back tears. “He died today.”
Seconds lingered.
Then JJ shook his head. “No! That’s a lie!”
His outburst startled Becca. Pete’s attention whipped between his brother and her.
“Honey, I’m sorry.”
“Stop lying! He’s coming home!” JJ’s eyes begged her to deny her earlier words.
But that would be the lie.
She dropped to her knees in front of him and pulled him close. “I’m sorry.”
After resisting for a second, he crumbled into her arms, sobs wracking his skinny frame.
“He was supposed to come home!” JJ’s words muffled into her shirt.
“I know, honey. I know.”
Becca started to wail and Pete sniffled as a monster tear arced down his cheek.
Bethany held her free arm out to them and both children crowded into her embrace.
They cried together for a man half of them had never really known. Becca and Pete probably didn’t even know why they were crying, but tears were contagious.
With knees hurting and back aching, Bethany was glad when JJ finally pulled back and swiped his sleeve across his face. “What happened?”
No way was she telling him that his father had been beaten to death. “I don’t really know. The police just told me he died.”
A half-truth, which wasn’t any different than a half-lie. But what choice did she have?
Lord, forgive me.
“What’s died?” Pete’s tear-stained face searched hers.
“It means he went to heaven, dummy.”
Even though he was hurting, she couldn’t allow JJ to get away with that. “James Jr. You know better than to talk to your brother like that.”
A fresh tear snaked down his cheek and he nodded. “Sorry, Petey.”
“Daddy’s in heaven? With Jesus?” Pete turned his bloodshot eyes to her.
As much as she wanted to offer that reassurance, she couldn’t. Unless he’d changed, James never would have turned to Christ. Not even in his final moments.
“I don’t know sweetie.” She settled on the floor, sitting cross-legged and pulling both Becca and Pete in her lap. “How do we get to heaven?”
She looked between the kids.
“Jesus in our heart.” Pete twirled her hair around his finger.
“Jesus!” Becca echoed.
“Right.” She stroked Becca’s hair, but her gaze focused more on JJ and Pete. “So, if daddy trusted in Jesus to save him, then he’s in heaven with Jesus right now.”
She left the other half of that unspoken.
While hell was very real and her kids would have to face that one day, thinking of their father in eternal torment wasn’t going to help right now.
Becca squirmed out of her arms and bounced away.
Silence fell over the rest of them.
Finally, JJ sighed. “I got homework.”
School had only been in session a few days and already he had homework. Things had sure changed from when she was his age.
“Mommy?” Pete looked up at her. “Can I watch cartoons?”
Normally she’d say no, but today was anything but normal. “Sure, honey.”
She’d just risen to start the DVD when a knock sounded at the door. Her eyes shot to the clock. Seven-thirty. Who would be coming to her door at seven-thirty?
Peering through the peephole, she studied the distorted man on the other side. The flickering light above his head that her landlord had yet to fix made it difficult for her to make out his features, but she could see enough to tell that he wasn’t someone she knew.
Which meant this door remained firmly closed, locked, deadbolted, and chained. “Yes?”
He tilted his head as though speaking to a closed door was not an everyday occurrence for him. “I’m looking for Bethany.”
Strong clear voice with a faint accent of some sort. Friendly lilt.
Didn’t mean she could trust him. “Why?”
He paused, then stared at the ceiling. Bothered by that flickering light?
Maybe.
“I don’t know, really. James told me to find you.”
James. Had this man known her husband?
He must have. He knew her name and her connection to James. But how had he found her?
Her fingers hovered by the deadbolt.
So he knew about her and James. So he knew where to find her. That still didn’t make him safe. In fact, he could be James’ killer. Maybe he wanted to kill James’ entire family for some reason.
“My name’s Zeke. I volunteer at the shelter downtown and James left me a message to find you.”
Zeke. The name dropped in her head like a rock.
Wasn’t that the name of the guy the cops said had found James?
What should she do?
Trust.
The word settled over her. Trust whom? She trusted God, but this strange man on her doorstep? She was to trust him with the lives of her children?
How did she know this guy was even who he claimed to be?
Leaving the chain in place, she unlocked the deadbolt and cracked open the door.
Now that she could see him, she assessed the stranger in front of her. Straight dark hair brushed chiseled cheekbones that begged to be sculpted. Shorter than James, he wasn’t much taller than she was. Definitely no taller than five foot ten. While not super muscular, he wasn’t a string bean, either. His eyes were dark orbs, their color indeterminate in the horror-show lighting.
“Do you have ID?”
Spreading his hands, he offered a small shrug. “I don’t. But if you want to call Zander, he can vouch for me.”
She didn’t know any Zander. “Look, this has been a long day. Please leave.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to make things any harder on you. But I have something of James’ and I think he meant for us to work together to open it.”
Well, that was certainly cryptic. Why wouldn’t he have just opened it – whatever it was – on his own?
Didn’t matter. James had nothing she needed. And since she didn’t know this man, or the Zander who would vouch for him, there was no way she was letting him past the spot in which he stood.
He paused. “Oh, you don’t know him as Zander. Detective Salinas. Call him. He can vouch for me.”
How did he…?
Although calling the police wasn’t such a bad idea. If this guy wasn’t who he claimed to be, and if he intended her or her kids any harm, it’d be good to have a cop know what was going on.
“Give me a minute.” She closed the door firmly, re-engaging the deadbolt before turning to her kids.
JJ and Pete stood in the living room
, watching her. Becca played with a toy on the floor.
“JJ, Petey, why don’t you take Becca into your room for a little while.”
JJ immediately scooped Becca up and led the way down the short hallway to the bedrooms. “C’mon Petey. Let’s build something.”
Huh. Normally he would have protested that. Evidently the day had taken a toll on him, too.
She plucked the business card the detectives had given her from the outside pocket of her purse and pulled out her cell phone.
One ring, then two. What would she do if he didn’t answer?
She’d send Zeke packing, that’s what she’d do. And if he refused to leave, she’d call 911. It was that simple.
“Salinas.”
She recognized the voice. “Detective Salinas? This is Bethany Summers. From earlier?”
Like he’d forget breaking the news of a murder to the victim’s wife. Dumb.
“Ms. Summers? Is everything all right?”
“Yes.” The word slipped out automatically. “Well, actually, maybe. Look, there’s a man at my door who says his name is Zeke, but he doesn’t have any ID. Now you mentioned that James was… found… by someone named Zeke. Right?”
“Yeah.” A heavy sigh. “Dark haired guy, wearing shorts and flip-flops, with purple eyes?”
Purple? Well, she’d failed to notice that.
Although in that lighting, it wasn’t too surprising. “Hair’s a little longish? And he has this accent that I can’t quite place.”
“Yes and yes.”
“He said you would vouch for him.” The words came out almost like an accusation, but she wasn’t sorry. Somehow this strange man had found her apartment, an apartment James hadn’t even known about. He must’ve gotten the information from the cops. It was the only thing that made sense.
“Yeah. I don’t know what he’s doing there but you can trust him.” The words hung, as though there was more Zander wanted to say.
“Did you give him my address? How did he find me?”
“Ask him. I bet he’ll tell you God sent him.”
Protests died in her throat. Out of all the responses she might’ve expected, that was not one of them.
God.
Had God really sent him? Why?
“Do you want me to come over there?” Zander’s voice pulled her from her thoughts.
Did she?
Probably wasn’t necessary. If the police vouched for him, then he should be okay, right?
Broken is the Grave Page 3