Broken is the Grave

by Candle Sutton

  She worked to keep her tone calm. “Detective Zander and the police are looking for him. They’ll get him.”

  She just hoped it happened sooner rather than later. She couldn’t take much more of this.

  “So, what should we do today?” She injected an upbeat tone into her words.

  “Can we go to a park? And maybe have ice cream?”

  “I think we can manage that.”

  “Can I ask Zeke to join us?”

  Her heartbeat spiked at Zeke’s name. “Of course.”

  JJ jumped up and bounded inside.

  The resiliency of kids amazed her. If only she could bounce back so quickly.

  One thing she had to do today was get the unemployment process started. And go to the art institute to turn in her keys. And drop out of classes. One of the perks about working there was the free tuition. But that no longer applied to her and she couldn’t afford to keep attending.

  Sure, she could look into financial aid, but what was the point? What would she do with a stupid art degree, anyway?

  Her parents had been right. About everything. She’d wasted her life.

  “Hey.” Zeke’s flip-flops slapped the deck as he crossed and sat down next to her. “I hear we’re going to a park?”

  “You don’t have to. I mean, I’m sure you have better things to do today and–”

  “Better than spending time with you and the kids? Impossible.”

  Warmth spread inside. Zeke was the one bright spot in this mess. “I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you. I mean, you took us in, you’re feeding us, I know you’ve bought the kids some things…”

  The debt grew daily, in fact. She didn’t know how to calculate it, even if she could pay.

  “Bethany.” He snagged her hand, bringing it to his lips and pressing a gentle kiss against it. “God has blessed us. We’re happy to share His blessings with others, especially people who are important to us personally.”

  She stared at him, unable to remove her gaze from his rich brown eyes that resembled melted chocolate. It’d been so long since a man had looked at her with such affection.

  But was it real? Could she trust this? Trust him?

  If she let him in… but he’d already gotten in, hadn’t he? Still, it wasn’t too late to pull back. For the kids’ sakes. If she let him into their lives and he walked away from them, she didn’t think she could pick up the pieces again.

  He reached up and gently touched her cheek, his fingers feathering along her jaw. “I know you’re scared. And that this feels sudden. Take your time figuring things out. I’m not going anywhere.”

  The words perfectly mirrored her thoughts. But how? “How did you…?”

  “God. I may not be perfect, but out of His mercy, He still speaks.”

  “You don’t understand. I walked away from God. I was pregnant with JJ when James and I got married. I didn’t turn back to God until James left. I…”

  She couldn’t go on. She didn’t want to tell him about the clubbing she and James had done when they’d first gotten together. About how many times she’d gotten drunk and the morally questionable decisions she’d made.

  “How do you drive a car? Do you keep looking at where you’ve been or where you’re going?”

  Ugh. She hated this analogy. Mostly because, deep down, she knew it was true. She forced herself to answer anyway. “You can’t move forward if you’re looking behind you.”

  “Don’t you think the same principle should apply to life? God says in Isaiah 43:18 ‘Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past.’ A few verses later He says that He blots out your transgressions and remembers your sins no more. Why would that promise not apply to you, His daughter?”

  “It’s not that simple. It’s hard to forget the things I’ve done wrong.” And God knew she’d tried.

  “I agree. Yet the one who the Son sets free is free indeed.”

  John 8:36. How she remembered that after all these years, she wasn’t sure.

  “Now.” His voice brought her back to the moment. “How about we get those kids to the park so they can burn off some of that energy?”

  Good idea. Heaven knew she could use some time outside her own head.

  Even though Zeke’s close proximity would do little to clear her thoughts.

  At least she could be confident that with both Zeke and her there to keep an eye on things, the kids should be safe enough.

  Her heart, on the other hand, was on very treacherous ground.

  ₪ ₪ ₪

  “Have you made any progress?” Bethany spoke softly so as not to draw Becca’s attention. Intent on coloring a lion purple, Becca didn’t look up from the coloring book in front of her.

  At least Pete and JJ were downstairs helping Josiah clean up after dinner.

  Zander matched her tone. “Still trying to figure out who attacked you. But I spoke to James’ old cellmate and I think he knows something.”

  James’ cellmate.

  They’d told her that he’d spent time in prison, but somehow hearing about his cellmate made it seem more real.

  “You think? He didn’t tell you anything?”

  “Guy was scared. Acted like he thought whoever killed James was listening in.”

  “Could he be right?” Listen to her! Did she seriously think the killer had bugged the prison?

  “I don’t see how. We were in a limited access area. Only guards…” Zander’s eyes narrowed. “I suppose one of the guards could be dirty.”

  “And maybe James found out. Maybe that’s what got him killed. Not drugs.” She so wanted to believe that he’d died trying to do the right thing instead of dying because of his drug use.

  Not that it really mattered. Either way, he was still dead and he’d managed to drag her and the kids smack into the middle of it.

  Zander hesitated. “Zeke, uh, didn’t tell you?”

  Her breath hitched. “Tell me what?”

  “He talked to a guy who said James was using again. He also said that this unknown Tobias guy killed James. At least, that’s the word on the street.”

  “Zeke knew this?” Why wouldn’t he have told her?

  “I didn’t think it was relevant.” Zeke’s voice came from behind her. A second later he sat in one of the free chairs. “You’ve been through so much that I didn’t want to add another burden to you.”

  She didn’t know whether to be touched or mad that he’d made the decision for her. Before she could decide, Zander drew her attention back to himself.

  “That reminds me. His cellmate wanted to talk to you.”

  What? The oxygen thickened around her. “Me?”

  Zander leaned his elbows on the table. “Yeah. Said James used to talk about you all the time.”

  “Yeah? Well if he cared so much, maybe he should’ve stuck around.” The words were loud enough to draw Becca’s attention, her little eyebrows scrunching over her hazel eyes.

  Bethany smiled at Becca, who swapped the purple crayon for a pink one.

  Dropping her tone slightly, Bethany forced a calm she didn’t feel. “Sorry. It’s not your fault.”

  Zander shrugged. “Believe me, I’ve dealt with worse.”

  She had no doubt.

  “Look, you don’t have to visit him. The only reason I brought it up is because I got the feeling he might tell you more than he told me. If you choose to do this, I’d be with you the whole time.”

  Visiting an inmate in prison. That was something she never imagined she’d be doing.

  The question was, would she be doing it?

  She could say no. There had to be other ways of getting the information that didn’t involve her.

  Josiah!

  “Josiah volunteers at the prison. Maybe he can talk to this guy.”

  Zander nodded. “I can ask him, but volunteers are pretty limited in where they’re allowed to go. It’s not like he can wander the halls talking to anyone he wants.”

  Oh.

  Maybe her plan wasn’
t as genius as she’d thought.

  “What does visiting the prison entail?” Was she seriously asking that question?

  “There are rules about what you can and can’t wear and what you can take in. Most visitations take place in a large room with other people around, but because we’re trying to get information and he’s scared, I’d probably have them put us in a private setting.”

  She tried to picture herself walking into the prison and sitting down across from someone in an orange jumpsuit. The image wouldn’t come. “Let me think about it.”

  “Sure. Take your time.” He paused, his sharp gaze weighing her. “I know it seems scary, but you’d be perfectly safe.”

  “It’s not that.” How could she accurately convey what she felt? “I’m just not sure I want to know anyone from that part of James’ life.”

  Footsteps pounding up the stairs alerted her that the conversation was over.

  JJ and Pete bounded into the room, followed by Elly and Josiah. JJ stopped between her and Zeke.

  Her eyes followed Zeke as he ruffled JJ’s hair, eliciting a smile – a genuine smile – from her oldest son.

  It was hard to fathom that they’d known Zeke just under a week. How had he become so ingrained in their lives in such a short period of time?

  The kids loved him. She could see it in the way they responded.

  More than that, JJ looked up to him. He’d become the male role model JJ had never had.

  But what happened when the threat was past and they returned to their old lives?

  She’d be left to pick up the shattered pieces of JJ’s heart. Alone. Again.

  Zeke’s gaze locked with hers and the smile he offered melted her fear. He’d told her he wasn’t going anywhere. Unlike James, maybe he really meant it.

  All she had to do was survive long enough to find out.

  ₪ ₪ ₪

  Marty stared at the ceiling long after the lights went out.

  Footsteps echoed in the corridor.

  He stiffened. Was this it?

  The smackdown was comin’, he was sure of it. He hadn’t told that cop a thing, but would they believe him? Would they care?

  The footsteps passed his cell and faded into the night.

  A sigh escaped.

  So. He lived another moment. Maybe even made it through the night. But what about tomorrow?

  He hadn’t seen Tobias today. Didn’t mean Tobias wouldn’t at least hear that the cops had paid him a visit.

  Then Tobias would come after him.

  Maybe he could convince Tobias that he’d kept his mouth shut. Probably not.

  Tobias wasn’t known for his mercy.

  More than that, Tobias had the power and physical strength to exact whatever payment he demanded.

  His favorite currency was blood.

  Fifteen

  Zander set the phone aside. Checking it obsessively wouldn’t make a text suddenly appear.

  “Everything okay?” Elly lowered herself onto the bench beside him.

  “Just Rafe.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “I’ve sent him three texts and even called him, but he’s not responding. It’s not like him.”

  “Oh, Zander. I’m so sorry.”

  One of the things he loved about her was her empathy. It seemed like she felt everything.

  And she deserved better than the half-hearted attention he’d been offering tonight. Now it was late and he’d have to head home soon. “No, I’m sorry. We don’t get enough time together. I should be here, not worrying about a grown man who can take care of himself.”

  “A grown man who is like a brother.”

  He didn’t deny it. He and Rafe were tight.

  Or at least they used to be. Now, he wasn’t so sure. “Don’t suppose God is giving you any special messages where Rafe’s concerned.”

  Zeke stepped onto the deck, the evening breeze ruffling his hair.

  “Nothing about Rafe. But we can pray God will cover him.”

  Prayer. Of course. Would that ever be his first recourse? “I just wish I knew that he’s okay. That he’s not dead or hurt or anything.”

  “He’s alive.”

  What? He whipped his head back to look at Zeke. “Rafe? How do you…?”

  Would he ever learn to stop asking that question?

  “Let me guess. God told you?”

  Zeke shook his head. “Not this time. I saw him.”

  “When?”

  “Yesterday. I was downtown asking about James–”

  “Which you should not be doing. Leave the investigating to me.” Seriously. What was wrong with this group? First Elly had pushed into a murder investigation and almost gotten killed because of it, and now Zeke was out there hunting for killers.

  He did not want to have to tell Elly her brother had been murdered.

  “Bethany needs closure. You’re busy and I was trying to help. Plus, I have connections with people out there.”

  All true, but that didn’t make it any better. “It’s still dangerous.”

  Zeke stared at him. No promise to stay out of it, no apologies.

  Zander sighed. “Did you learn anything that might help me?”

  “Just that Tobias has power. The guy I spoke to had heard of him and knew enough to have a healthy fear. He said Tobias is into counterfeiting and that people who cross him end up dead.”

  Counterfeiting. Huh.

  They’d been working under the assumption that James’ drug use had gotten him killed, but what if it wasn’t that? What if he’d been involved in a counterfeiting ring?

  A lot of money at stake in that racket. It was certainly a possibility.

  “I’ll look into that. How’d you find Rafe?”

  Zeke hesitated.

  Not a good sign. Zander pulled in a breath and braced himself.

  “He was talking to someone.”

  Not very forthcoming with the details, was he? Further evidence that whatever he had to say wasn’t good. “But he was okay?”

  “He was alive.” Zeke turned serious eyes on him. “I wouldn’t say he was okay, though. Pray for him, brother.”

  “Define ‘not okay’.” Even as the words left his mouth he wondered if he really wanted to know.

  Yes, he most definitely did. Rafe was his brother. He needed to know.

  “He’s struggling. He’s running from God straight into the sins of the world.”

  With Rafe, that likely meant two things. Drugs and women. And since he doubted Zeke had seen Rafe getting into trouble with women, that left one strong option. “He’s deeper into drugs, isn’t he?”

  Zeke nodded slowly. “In a bad way, I suspect.”

  No doubt.

  Elly squeezed his hand. If only Rafe had someone like her in his life.

  Zander sighed. “I guess that explains why he’s not getting back to me. He knows I’d pick up on it.”

  “He was dirty and he’d lost weight. I think he’s living on the streets.”

  Living on the streets. If that was true, Rafe was worse off than he’d feared. Why hadn’t Rafe come to him if he was homeless?

  Because he didn’t want to give up the drugs.

  The answer was obvious. Rafe knew Zander wouldn’t tolerate drug use in his apartment. Like so many, Rafe had chosen his addiction over his own wellbeing.

  Still, he’d check Rafe’s apartment first thing in the morning. See if maybe Rafe answered the door.

  What would he do if he found Rafe? Would he have to arrest his closest amigo?

  Better that than finding him dead of an overdose.

  Actually, being arrested might be the best thing for Rafe right now. Maybe he could get him to go to rehab.

  It was worth trying.

  And far better than the lethal alternative.

  ₪ ₪ ₪

  Rafe jerked awake.

  What was that? Was someone there?

  He hadn’t meant to fall asleep. The rough brick wall of the building behind him scraped the back of his head
and the concrete beneath him hurt his tailbone.

  Road noise filtered down the alley as cars cruised by on the street beyond where he sat.

  His skin felt on fire and sweat beaded his forehead. A racing pulse, shakiness in his limbs, and nausea rounded out his symptoms.

  It was time for another fix.

  He pulled the baggie, mirror, and straw from his pocket, pinched some powder and inhaled, then leaned his head back as the coke flooded his senses.

  It hadn’t been that long since he’d last snorted. Maybe Tank had sold him a bad batch.

  Or maybe it was time to switch to something stronger.

  A boot kicked his leg.

  He scrambled to his feet as a man stepped from the shadows. Details clicked through Rafe’s awareness - camouflage print cargo pants, a tight black shirt that showed off his muscle toning, and a shaved head. While he didn’t know the man’s name, he knew why he was here.

  “Dude.” Rafe jerked his chin up in a half nod. “Shouldn’t scare me like that.”

  “You should be more vigilant when you’ve got something of mine.” The man’s voice was tight. “You do have what’s mine, right?”

  Fresh sweat popped out on Rafe’s face.

  This was not a man he wanted to cross. Ever.

  And yet, he already had. “Yeah. Yeah, I got it.”

  He looked up and down the alley. No one else in sight.

  Lifting the leg of his pants revealed the ankle holster strapped there. Instead of a gun though, it was stuffed with cash.

  His hand shook as he pulled out the bills wadded inside.

  The man took the bills and smoothed them out.

  When Rafe handed him the last bill, the man turned sharp eyes on him. “You’re short. By a hundred.”

  The drugs felt like lead in his pocket. His cut hadn’t been quite enough to cover what he’d purchased.

  Why had he thought the man wouldn’t notice the shortage?

  No way was he going to own it, though.

  “I-I don’t what happened.” A tremor rocked his voice. “It should all be there.”

  The man slid the bills into a pocket on the thigh of his pants. “Well it’s not.”

  Silence weighted the air between them. With each passing second, Rafe’s pulse spiked higher.