Broken is the Grave

by Candle Sutton

  “What does it all mean?”

  Zeke’s question mirrored the one echoing in her mind. “I wish I knew.”

  What she’d hoped would provide answers only created more questions.

  Five

  “What do you want to do with this?”

  Bethany stared at the USB drive held between Zeke’s thumb and forefinger before taking it from his hand. That was the question, wasn’t it? “I guess I should take it to the cops.”

  Honestly, she probably should have done that right away, instead of looking at it herself.

  Yet it was her last link to James. Even though she waffled between loving him and hating him, the fact that he’d left it for her meant something.

  If only she knew what.

  Well, the police could probably enhance the image. Maybe identify the men in those videos. They might even be able to see what was on the tables and figure out where the video came from.

  The clock on the wall caught her attention. Two-thirty? Yikes! Where had the time gone?

  She dropped the drive in her bag. “I’ve gotta go. JJ will be out of school soon and I need to pick up Pete and Becca from daycare before then.”

  Smiling at Aimee as they passed, Zeke pushed open the exterior door and held it for her. “Can I help with anything?”

  Maybe she should have him take the drive to the cops. That detective was his friend, after all.

  Could she trust him?

  Well, that detective did. Besides, she could always follow-up with the detective later to make sure he’d gotten the drive. “Would you mind taking the USB to the police for me? I don’t know when I can make it down there.”

  “Sure. I’ll actually be seeing Zander tonight so I can give it to him then.”

  She turned to him. “You guys are pretty good friends, huh?”

  Zeke chuckled. “Well, he’s dating my sister.”

  Ah. That explained a lot.

  At least some of the somberness from earlier seemed to have lifted. He still didn’t act like the same guy who’d showed up at her door the previous night, but maybe her grief had clouded her impression of him.

  She fished around in her bag. Where was that drive?

  Grr. Laziness. If she’d taken an extra second to put it inside the pocket instead of just dropping it in the main part of the bag, she wouldn’t be digging now.

  Stopping at the corner of the building, she set her bag on the ground and rummaged through it.

  There.

  She scooped it up from where it’d settled at the bottom and handed it up to Zeke.

  Movement!

  Something big and dark crashed into Zeke, slamming him against the building.

  His head bounced off the bricks and he crumpled to the ground.

  A man in a black hoodie snatched the thumb drive off the sidewalk, then turned to her. Large black sunglasses hid the upper half of his face, but his lips curled down in a scowl.

  A hand twice the size of hers reached for her.

  She scrambled backward.

  The hoodie stretched tight over his muscular build. In spite of his size, he moved with the speed and stealth of a panther. One hand captured her upper arm, the other closed around her throat.

  He propelled her around the corner and into an alley, where he shoved her up against a dumpster that reeked of decay.

  “Gimme everything James left you.”

  Her breath froze in her chest and her tongue solidified in her mouth.

  James’ killer! Now he was going to kill her, too.

  Who would take care of her kids when she was gone?

  ₪ ₪ ₪

  Josiah froze, the scripture passage in front of him blurring.

  The words of Romans, read hesitantly by one of the inmates, became little more than background noise.

  They had to pray. Now.

  Josiah blinked. The ten men sitting in a circle with him came into focus, all obliviously unaware of the burden closing in on his heart.

  “Guys.”

  The inmate stopped reading and all heads swiveled toward him.

  “The Lord has told me that we need to stop and pray for my brother Zeke. Would you join me in lifting him up?”

  Hands joined and heads bowed.

  “Great and sovereign Lord. Please protect my brother.” A woman’s face filled his thoughts. Blonde. Curly hair. Blue eyes filled with tears.

  It wasn’t just Zeke in trouble, but this woman, too.

  Bethany. He’d never met her, but the name flashed in his mind like a marquee. “And cover Bethany, too. They need You now…”

  ₪ ₪ ₪

  The hand at her throat squeezed. Just one short, hard squeeze, then loosened slightly.

  “What did he leave you!” The words growled from stiff lips.

  “That’s it! Just the USB.” Her voice trembled like a skyscraper in an earthquake.

  A siren wailed. Faintly at first, but getting closer.

  The man leaned in, his hot breath brushing her cheek. “I find out you lied to me and you’ll join your husband.”

  Husband. This man knew who she was!

  The siren was joined by another, this one closer and louder.

  The man’s hand tightened around her throat.

  This was it. She was going to die.

  JJ, Pete, and Becca would be alone after losing both parents to the same…

  No! He’d already taken one parent from her kids. She wouldn’t let him do it again, not without a fight.

  She fisted both hands and swung. One slammed into his Adam’s apple, the other glanced off the side of his head.

  While both hit the targets, the blows lacked the force to do any real damage.

  Still, his breath left in a whoosh and his grip loosened. The sunglasses flew from his face.

  Beady blue eyes glared at her. Thick eyebrows drew together over those eyes, and his thin lips pulled into a scowl.

  “You’ll pay for that.”

  The sirens grew louder.

  She clawed at his face, but he jerked back, her nails slicing through nothing but air.

  He whipped her away from the dumpster and tossed her as if she weighed no more than Becca.

  Air rushed by her as she flew backward.

  She caught a glimpse of the man rounding the corner before he disappeared from her sight.

  No! The killer was getting away!

  Her left shoulder crashed into something hard. Pain shot down her arm, which numbed almost instantly.

  Asphalt rushed toward her. Her cheek scraped across the rough ground. Black spots filled her vision and the sirens, which had been so loud a second ago, faded.

  Were they leaving her?

  Pull it together.

  She blinked. Kept blinking until her vision cleared.

  Planting her hands beneath her, she pushed herself up. Glass cut into the heel of her hand. Her numb left arm collapsed under her weight and her right arm protested the added strain.

  Unsteady legs swayed as she rose. Her stomach jolted.

  She was not going to be sick.

  With her right hand planted firmly against the wall beside her, she leaned her pounding head against the building and waited for the nausea to pass.

  The sirens wailed closer, the crisp sound bouncing off buildings.

  Someone had called the cops. And maybe an ambulance…

  Zeke!

  Was he okay?

  The memory of his head cracking against the building echoed in her skull.

  She forced one rubber foot in front of the other. Rounding the corner, she found Zeke slumped against the wall.

  No one knelt beside him. In fact, no one was anywhere nearby. She saw several homeless people staring from across the street. A few faces peering out of windows in nearby businesses. But no one who would come to his aid.

  Were people really so reticent to get involved?

  The shrill sirens pierced her head as she dropped to the ground beside Zeke. Blood ran down the side of his fac
e, puddling on the collar of his short-sleeved shirt.

  A gray pallor tinged his skin and his body was as still as death.

  Lord, please let him be alive.

  If he died because he’d helped her, she didn’t know what she’d do.

  Her fingers went to his throat.

  A strong pulse thumped back.

  Thank you, Lord! He wasn’t dead, just out cold.

  The sirens were loud enough to shatter her eardrums now. They blipped, then went silent.

  She turned as the doors of a police cruiser flew open. Behind it, an ambulance ground to a halt.

  Help had arrived, but they were too late.

  The only piece of evidence James had left them was gone. As was the man who had killed him.

  ₪ ₪ ₪

  “Ms. Summers?”

  Bethany lifted her head from her hands to find the Latino detective from yesterday standing in front of her.

  What was his name again?

  Her thoughts muddled together. “It’s Bethany. I’m sorry. I don’t remember your name.”

  “Detective Salinas. Call me Zander.” He eased down to the curb beside her. “I thought you’d want to know that Zeke woke up on the way to the hospital. Likely just a concussion, but the docs will tell us for sure.”

  “That’s good.”

  “And I’ve sent a squad car to your apartment to keep an eye on your kids. They’re with a babysitter, correct?”

  “Yes.” Thank God for Olive. When she’d called Olive and told her what was going on, Olive had immediately volunteered to pick up JJ and stay with all three kids until Bethany could get home.

  “I understand you saw the man who did this.”

  “Yes. He was wearing a hoodie, but I saw his face.”

  Zander jotted it down. “That’s good enough. I’d like to have you work with a sketch artist to describe him.”

  “I can do better than that. I’ll sketch him myself.”

  An unruly eyebrow arched over Zander’s dark eyes.

  “I’m an artist.” She tapped her temple lightly. “Once I see a face, it’s locked in here for good.”

  “Really?” He leaned forward, curiosity lighting his eyes. “That’s quite a gift.”

  She shrugged. “God made each of us different.”

  A hint of a smile worked at Zander’s lips. “That He did. So, can you tell me what happened here?”

  She’d already given her statement to the responding officers, but recounted it again for Zander. Tremors started in her hands and worked their way to the rest of her body. “I think the scariest thing is that he knew who I am. If he knows me, he knows about my kids, right? What if he goes after them?”

  “It’s a possibility.” The words were said mildly.

  At least he wasn’t offering false assurances or platitudes.

  “We’ll increase patrols in your neighborhood, but the best thing you can do right now is get me that sketch so we can try to nail this guy. You said he didn’t look familiar?”

  “No. I’ve never seen him before.” She exhaled a measured breath. “He’s probably one of James’ drug contacts.”

  Maybe a dealer.

  Was that what she’d seen in the video? Some kind of drug operation?

  “Why didn’t you bring that USB drive to us right away?” While the tone was casual, there was a sharpness in his face that evidenced his displeasure.

  “I wish I had. But I didn’t know what it was. It could’ve been something from our life before… before he left, and not something relevant.”

  “Well, now that it’s gone, you and Zeke are the only links to what that drive contained. I’ll need to get detailed statements from both of you on that.” He looked at his watch. “I know your kids are waiting for you and it’s getting kinda late. Can you come by the precinct tomorrow morning?”

  What was tomorrow?

  Friday. At least it was a short class day. “My classes get out at ten. I could come by after that.”

  “If you need to bring your kids, feel free.”

  Right. Like she wanted her kids hanging out at the police station listening to her discuss their father’s criminal activities. “I think it’s better if they stay in daycare.”

  Zander held up his hands. “Whatever works for you. I just wanted you to know you have options. I know it can be hard when you have young ones around.”

  “You have kids?”

  He shook his head. “Not me, but my sisters have several and Madre is now raising my niece.”

  Hmm. Did one of his sisters have one too many kids or something?

  She bit back the question. It was none of her business.

  “My brother’s daughter.” He volunteered, evidently seeing her curiosity. “My brother was murdered and I just carted his girlfriend off to jail, so Madre took custody of my niece. I thought about doing it but, well, single guy who makes his living as a cop… just didn’t feel like the right fit. So, believe me, I thought about all the realities you’re dealing with right now.”

  Maybe he did get it. On some hypothetical level, anyway.

  “You’re free to go. I heard you declined medical attention?”

  Yeah, she’d declined. Couldn’t afford a hospital visit. “I’m okay.”

  “If you say so. Is your car close by?”

  “I don’t have a car.” No need to tell him that it’d been repossessed when James left them. Money was so tight she couldn’t afford to replace it.

  “Need a lift home?”

  A ride sounded nice. It’d been a rough day. “That’d be great. Thanks.”

  The hardest part would be explaining her injuries to her kids without scaring them. JJ, especially. The other two were young enough that they probably wouldn’t question it too much, but JJ wasn’t quite that naïve.

  Her cell phone rang.

  The display said “Olive.”

  Something was wrong! Olive wouldn’t be calling otherwise. That killer had gotten to her kids, hadn’t he?

  She accepted the call. “What’s happened?”

  “It’s your apartment.”

  The apartment? Who cared about that? “The kids? Are they okay?”

  “They’re fine, but your place is a mess. Someone’s been here.”

  A mess? She wasn’t a meticulous housekeeper, although she kept things in a sort of organized chaos, but Olive was used to that… “Wait. How do you know someone’s been there?”

  “Because the place is trashed. Couch cushions shredded on the floor, drawers emptied, that kind of trashed.”

  This couldn’t be happening! “Why would anyone break into my apartment?”

  Zander’s gaze sharpened on her. “Someone broke into your place?”

  She ignored him as Olive continued, “I dunno, but someone’s been here. Not sure if they took anything, but your TV is still here.”

  Like that was any indicator. Her TV was at least six years old. Outdated by technology standards. “Are you at the apartment now?”

  “I took the kids back out to my car. They were kinda freaking out.”

  Of course they were. It was a week from, well…

  “Look, Olive, normally I’d never ask this, but they can’t be inside there. Can you–?”

  “Take them to my place? I was plannin’ on it.”

  “Thank you.” She fought back tears. “I appreciate you. I’ll file a police report then come over and pick them up.”

  Not that she knew where she’d take them.

  For the first time in years, she wished she could call her parents.

  She ended the call and lifted her eyes to find Zander’s gaze targeted on her. “Your apartment has been vandalized?”

  “When it rains it pours, huh?” She tried to smile but dissolved into a sob instead. “I don’t know why this is happening!”

  “Mrs… Bethany.” His hand landed gently on her shoulder. “Have you considered that the break-in might be connected to this man who attacked you earlier?”

  Connec
ted to… why hadn’t she realized that sooner? “You’re right. It’s not like I have anything worth stealing. No one in my building does. And Olive said my TV was still there.”

  Old or not, if someone were going to the trouble of robbing her, that was one thing they’d definitely take.

  “Let’s go check it out. You can tell me if it looks like anything’s missing. That will determine if we treat this as a simple robbery or as something more serious.”

  She hoped it wasn’t something more serious, even as her instincts warned her that it was.

  Six

  Seeing her apartment ransacked was a fist to the stomach. Her already pounding headache intensified.

  She leaned against the wall inside her door and stared at the scattered papers, stuffing from cushions, and shattered glass littering the living room floor.

  Dimly aware of Zander and his partner Morgan talking to the two officers who had cleared her apartment prior to their arrival, she couldn’t take her eyes off the debris littering her floor. Everything she had… destroyed.

  It’d take her days to clean up this mess.

  And even longer to replace the damaged items.

  “Does it look like anything’s missin’?” Morgan’s voice pulled her from her thoughts.

  She stared at him. With this mess, how could he expect her to know? “I–I don’t know. It’s hard to tell.”

  “Try to focus on valuable or important items.” Zander’s gaze danced over the clunky television still standing on top of a battered black stand.

  A laugh burst from her, but it contained no humor. “There’s nothing valuable here. The only things that are important are my kids and my pictures of them.”

  Still, she should try, shouldn’t she?

  Plunging her fingers into her curls, she surveyed the mess with her hands still on her head. Where did she even begin?

  She cautiously stepped over a pile of glass, dodged the upended sofa, and gauged the room.

  All the big items were accounted for.

  She moved down the short hallway and into the boys’ room. Mattresses were slashed and all the drawers had been yanked free from the dresser, but no furniture was missing. She found the same to be true with the room she shared with Becca.