Broken is the Grave

by Candle Sutton

  Flies buzzed around an assortment of bottles, wrappers, and moldy food but there was no sign of anyone living. No dead bodies either, unless it was buried beneath the trash.

  No, the Father hadn’t called him here to find Rafe’s body. Of that much he was certain.

  He dropped the lid and surveyed the alley around him.

  Where could…?

  His gaze landed on a box toward the back corner of the alley.

  It was large, appliance size, lying lengthwise. A small circle of water from last night’s rain shower puddled on top. The sides sagged slightly, as if the water was too great a burden to bear.

  A string dangled out of the box.

  No, not a string. A shoelace.

  Rafe.

  He knew it in his soul, even though he hadn’t seen the face that went with the shoelace.

  “Rafe?” In spite of the soft tone he used, his voice echoed in the confined space.

  No response.

  He knelt beside the box and looked in.

  Curled in a fetal position, Rafe looked one step from the grave. His face was pale and gaunt, his hair tangled and matted. Closed eyes saw nothing.

  Several syringes littered the bottom of the box around him.

  “Rafe.” Urgency lined the word. “Come on, brother. Look at me.”

  Rafe didn’t move. Each breath sent shudders through his body.

  Had he been hurt?

  Zeke gently shook Rafe’s shoulder, while his gaze traveled down the disheveled clothing. No sign of blood or injury. Vomit spotted Rafe’s lips, a trail of it crusted on his cheek, leading to a small pile on the cardboard beneath his face. A hint of blue colored Rafe’s lips and fingertips.

  Another breath rattled through Rafe’s parted lips, the force of it shaking his body. He was breathing. For now. But how long would that last?

  Father, why didn’t you send Elly?

  No response. It was up to him.

  He dug in his pocket for the cell phone Zander had insisted he carry. It rarely received much use, but for once, he was glad to have it.

  He dialed 911 and gave their location to the dispatcher.

  While the dispatcher went on about signs of overdose and gave him instructions, Zeke began to pray.

  The way death hovered over Rafe, he had a feeling only God could save him now.

  Twenty One

  Why would a closed cell block be important?

  Zander studied the prison’s floorplan. On paper, it looked like any other wing. Why had Marty gone to such trouble to mention it specifically?

  He could always call the oh-so-helpful warden and ask.

  Right. Like that would get him anywhere.

  Did he know anyone who worked out there?

  He searched his memory. He’d talked to guards occasionally, usually when transferring a prisoner or…

  Jacobson!

  The guard was at least five years younger than he was, but they’d grown up in the same neighborhood. At one time, his kid brother Jave had been friends with Jacobson.

  Before Jave had gotten involved with gangs, anyway.

  Zander looked up Jacobson’s number and punched it in.

  With any luck, the guy wouldn’t be at work right now.

  The phone rang once, twice, three times…

  “Yeah?” Sleep laced the word, giving Jacobson’s voice a husky edge.

  “Jacobson? Zander Salinas. Did I wake you?”

  Jacobson cleared his throat. “Dude, what time is it?”

  “‘Bout one.”

  “Man, I’ve been pulling long hours. Graves. Heck, yeah, you woke me.”

  Yikes. Hopefully that wouldn’t impair the man’s desire to help. “I’m sorry about that. If I’d known, I would’ve waited to call.”

  A sigh, which might’ve been a yawn, came across. “Well, I’m awake now. What’s up?”

  “I was hoping you could tell me what the deal is with cellblock G.”

  “Block G? It’s closed.” Irritation lined the words.

  Yeah, if someone had woken him up to ask about a closed cellblock, Zander was pretty sure he’d be cranky, too. “Has it been closed for a while?”

  “Since before I started working there. So at least three years now.”

  “You know why it’s closed?”

  “Word is that it needs some pretty serious upgrades. Prison isn’t at capacity, so I guess putting money toward that block isn’t a priority.”

  Strange. Why would Marty point them toward a cell block that hadn’t been used in years? “So, it’s not being used for anything? Storage or solitary or anything?”

  “Not that I know about. But I’m not exactly high up the totem pole, if you know what I mean.”

  “Think you could ask around? See if there’s something going on out there?”

  Another yawn. “Sure. Can I go back to sleep now?”

  “One other thing. You familiar with an inmate named Marty Bell?”

  “Can’t say that I am. He got something to do with one of your cases or something?”

  “He may be a key witness in a murder I’m investigating.” Zander bit back the fact that the case was tied to another inmate’s death. “Hey, I’m sorry for waking you.”

  “It’s just sleep, right? I’ll let you know what I find out.”

  “Thanks, man. I owe you coffee.”

  “You owe me a stiff drink.” Jacobson yawned again. “And don’t think I won’t collect on that debt.”

  “I know you will. Take care, man.”

  Ending the call, Zander turned back to the schematic on his monitor.

  Eight wings in the prison and Marty pointed them toward the one wing that was closed. Why? And how did it tie into James’ murder?

  His phone buzzed.

  As he glanced at the display, his heart tripped.

  Zeke.

  Zeke never called him.

  Something was wrong, wasn’t it? Elly? Bethany? Both?

  He accepted the call. “Hey, man.”

  How was his voice even normal?

  “Zander.”

  Zeke’s voice sounded strained, but not frantic. That was a good sign, right?

  “I’m at the hospital.”

  Okay, not a good sign. “What’s going on?”

  “It’s Rafe. God led me to him. In an alley. He’d overdosed.”

  Overdosed.

  The word echoed in his mind like an annoying song he couldn’t forget. “Ho–How is he?”

  “Critical condition. I got there in time, but… he was knocking on death’s door.”

  Zander was already reaching for his keys. “Which hospital?”

  “Angel of Mercy.”

  At least it was close. “I’m on my way.”

  Through the fog, he managed to tell Morgan what was going on, grab his laptop, and make it to his car in the parking garage. As he careened through the streets at near reckless speed, Zeke’s words kept replaying in his mind.

  Rafe. Overdose. Critical condition.

  Should he call Elly? Ask her to heal Rafe?

  If she even could. She was still recovering from Zeke’s gunshot wound last night. Besides, what would a drug overdose do to her body?

  He didn’t want to find out. No matter what she said, he was sure her body could only take so much. Especially now that she wasn’t sinless. She didn’t seem to bounce back quite as quickly as when he’d first met her.

  Maybe he’d ask her about that. Someday.

  He pulled into the hospital parking lot and whipped his Mustang into the first spot he saw. After retrieving his department issued laptop from the back, he jogged toward the building.

  Zeke had said Rafe was in room 617.

  He rode the elevator up to the sixth floor and strode down the hall to the left.

  Zeke looked up as Zander stepped into the room.

  The curtains were open, letting in the cheery sunlight that was in such sharp contrast with the death pallor on Rafe’s gray face.

  Tubes and hos
es ran between Rafe’s abnormally skinny body and a bank of machines beside the bed.

  It was weird to see Rafe, who normally bounced with life, looking so lifeless.

  He approached the bed. Protruding cheekbones, hollowed cheeks, and sunken eyes evidenced just how gaunt he’d become. Hadn’t Rafe been eating?

  Maybe not. Depending upon the drugs he was using, he may not have consumed much else.

  Zeke moved to stand beside him.

  “Have you been here the whole time?” He turned to face Zeke. Focusing on him was easier than looking at this man who was a ghost of his former self.

  Zeke nodded. “I talked them into letting me ride in the ambulance.”

  Really? “How’d you manage that? They usually limit who can do that.”

  “God granted me favor.”

  God did that a lot where these three were concerned. “Have they told you how he’s doing?”

  “No. The doctors check on him but won’t tell me much. The last doctor did say he was stable.” A glimmer of a smile crossed Zeke’s face. “But God told me he’s going to be okay.”

  Thanks, God.

  He was still pretty new at all this God stuff, but Zeke had been teaching him a lot. One of the things he remembered was that God couldn’t lie. If God said Rafe would be okay, then he could trust Rafe really would be okay.

  Although as he looked at the friend who’d been like a brother to him and now looked so close to death, it was hard to believe he’d survive.

  “How’d you find him?”

  Zeke offered a slight shrug. “God led me to him.”

  Of course. Why did he ever expect a different response? “Lots of people overdose. Why him?”

  “Why not him?” Zeke spread his hands. “God’s ways are mysterious. I don’t know why He chooses some and not others, why He saves some and not others. All I know is that God loves all people, including Rafe, and in His mercy has chosen to prolong Rafe’s life.”

  Understanding God’s ways was hard for him. It was hard to see all the horrors of life and accept that God hadn’t stopped them.

  Yet part of faith was trusting God could use any situation.

  He glanced back at his friend. “Has he said anything?”

  “He hasn’t regained consciousness.”

  Not too surprising, given his current condition. “Thank you, Zeke. I don’t know what I would’ve done if I’d lost him.”

  Zeke clapped a hand on his shoulder. “I get it, brother. I’m glad God led me to him in time.”

  Part of him wanted to slug Rafe for being so stupid. “Have they said what drugs are in his system?”

  “No. I don’t know if they even know.”

  Naturally. Overdoses didn’t usually come with an ingredient list.

  He dropped into a chair. “Thanks for staying with him. I’ll have to call Elly and let her know that I won’t be by tonight.”

  That cut. He’d really been looking forward to seeing her.

  “She’ll understand. This is where you’re needed.” Zeke glanced at the clock. “I should be checking on Bethany. She seemed pretty upset when she called me earlier.”

  Zander arched an eyebrow. “You didn’t see her when I dropped her off?”

  “I was out looking for Rafe.”

  “She saw her attacker at the prison. I’m thinking he works there. I was starting to check out the prison’s employees when you called.”

  Zeke’s eyes widened. “I can see why that would upset her.”

  “I’ll keep you both updated if I find anything.”

  ₪ ₪ ₪

  “We’ll be going to the school tomorrow to touch base with your teacher.”

  JJ froze, his wide eyes locking on her as if she’d suggested he strip to his underpants and jump in the ocean. “I–I–I don’t w–wanna.”

  She smoothed his hair. “I’ll be right there with you. We need to talk to her about next week.”

  “I just wanna stay here. With Zeke.”

  Where it felt safe.

  She got it. Truly, she did.

  She sighed. “Okay. I’ll talk to your teacher tomorrow and you can stay here. But you’ll have to go back to school next week.”

  Even as the words left her mouth, she questioned the wisdom.

  Should she send him back next week?

  It’d be the best thing for him, wouldn’t it?

  She couldn’t keep him with her all the time. It wasn’t healthy. For either of them. At some point, she’d have to let him go.

  Maybe if she visited the principal and set some expectations for his safety. Like not letting him out of the classroom without an adult by his side. Maybe that would make it okay.

  Memories of the shooting the previous night assaulted her.

  Or maybe she’d keep him close. On the boat where no one could get to him.

  Although that shot had been meant for her. None of the kids appeared to have been the target.

  If only she knew for certain that her attacker was incarcerated.

  Then maybe this nightmare would be over.

  When Zander had dropped her off earlier, he’d promised he was going to look into it and get back to her. So far, there’d been no word. Maybe because he hadn’t found anything?

  Her stomach growled.

  She should start dinner preparations. Elly was resting below deck, Zeke had been gone since sometime during the morning, and Josiah had left for the prison not long after she’d returned.

  The prison.

  A shudder traveled through her at the memory of that place. How anyone could survive there was a mystery to her.

  Marty’s resigned face came to mind. She prayed he was okay.

  Maybe Josiah could reassure her. Whenever he got home.

  Footsteps out on the deck brought her head around and spiked her pulse, which settled as Zeke’s face came into view through the windows.

  His presence filled the cabin and his smile warmed her heart.

  Pete popped up, abandoning his coloring, and launched himself at Zeke. Becca, a pink crayon still clutched in her hand, followed. Even JJ gave a small chin jerk, although he didn’t set aside the handheld game that commanded his focus.

  The game had been a gift from some friends at church. While she’d considered it a nuisance at the apartment, it was a blessing here.

  “Hey.” While Zeke knelt to greet both Becca and Pete, his smile was for her.

  As Pete and Becca returned to their coloring, Zeke dropped onto the sofa beside her.

  “I heard this morning was rough.”

  She appreciated his low tone, but the room was too confined to keep the kids from overhearing. No one looked like they were paying attention but she’d learned long ago that those little ears picked up more than she imagined. “Yeah. I’ll tell you about it later.”

  He picked up her hand, his thumb gently massaging the back. “I’m sorry. I should have been there for you.”

  The tenderness in his touch melted her inside. “You were helping with my kids. Besides, I’m used to doing things alone.”

  “You don’t have to do things alone anymore. I’d like to be there with you. If you’ll let me.”

  “I’d like that.”

  Rich brown eyes locked with hers. Heat radiated off him like the noonday sun. Something told her if the kids weren’t present, he would have kissed her.

  Part of her wished he would anyway.

  She better rein that thought in before she followed through on it herself. “Did you, uh, have a busy day?”

  He accepted the redirect for what it was, leaning back on the sofa and kicking off his flip-flops. “I did. It’s why I wasn’t here when you returned this morning. God called me out.”

  That was a strange way to put it. “What do you mean He called you out?”

  “Just that. Zander’s friend needed help and God led me to him.”

  “And you helped him?”

  Zeke’s smile dimmed. “I barely got there in time. But God says he’s goi
ng to be okay.”

  “What happened?”

  Zeke’s gaze traveled over the kids before returning to her. “OD.”

  Overdose.

  Had to be the friend whose apartment they’d emptied. Unless Zander kept a lot of questionable company.

  “I stayed at the hospital until Zander arrived, then went to check up on Reuben.”

  Reuben. The man who had been stabbed protecting Zeke. She’d hardly given him a thought since then.

  What a horrible person she was. “How is he?”

  “Recovering, praise God. Even better, I think he’s going to try to get off the streets.” His smile returned in full force. “It’s crazy to me how God sometimes uses bad situations to bring about His purposes.”

  So true. Like how God used James’ murder to bring Zeke and his friends into her life.

  She was thankful for that shaft of light. Especially as danger followed more closely than her shadow.

  ₪ ₪ ₪

  “What did he tell them?”

  Tobias crossed his arms over his chest and assessed Isaac. If Isaac were pulling his own weight in this operation, he’d know what Marty had said. But Isaac got the cushy job of sitting back and doing nothing.

  “Well?” Irritation lined Isaac’s word.

  “Near as I can tell, nothing of value.” Of course, the recording equipment had died when the power went out, so there had been a one minute window where he had no idea what had been said.

  Still, how much damage could Marty have done in one minute?

  “I’d like to be consulted next time you decide to cut the power.”

  Seriously? “You had that cop in here. What was I supposed to do? Waltz in and ask you?”

  Isaac’s eyes narrowed, but he said nothing.

  Because they both knew he was right. “I had to make a decision and it worked.”

  He hoped. There was still a little concern about that one minute.

  Nah. Marty was scared. He wouldn’t have done anything stupid, like talking about what he knew. Assuming he knew much of anything.

  “The detective was asking about Bell. Went on and on about some kind of threat.”

  So what? He shrugged. “Things happen in prison. You want me to take care of him?”

  “And have the cops start looking into us? That detective all but promised that he’d investigate me if anything happened to Bell. The time to take care of him was yesterday.” Isaac pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed his forehead. “This whole thing could blow up in our faces if we aren’t careful.”