by DiAnn Mills
Nizam was the last one in the tukul and he never made it out.
Paul rested his forehead against Larson’s. “I guess we’ll never understand what happened.”
“Do you think God reached him?”
Paul shook his head. “I don’t know. But it no longer matters, because it’s over.”
She laid her head against his chest. A fresh spasm of coughing brought him back to the present.
“Ben, we need to get them to the clinic.”
Ben led Daruka and David toward the concrete building. Paul hoisted Thomas to his shoulder and wrapped his arm around Larson’s waist. “Let’s get away from this. You’ve seen enough.”
“Do you mean we’re leaving Warkou?” she said.
“Not Warkou. Not Sudan. God took care of us when we faced certain death, and I believe He will continue to protect us. I want this to be our home until He leads us somewhere else.”
They made their way toward the clinic, still lit by the power of the generator, but no longer a scene of hatred and revenge.
She lifted her dirt- and tearstained face to his. “When I believed the end had come, I realized I’d pushed my feelings aside and had never fully apologized to you for all the times my anger came between us. I tried to think I could handle life alone if you were killed. But inside I was so scared. I believed courage meant I had to shut out my heart to you. I’m so sorry.”
“My habibti, we serve a mighty God. I had forgotten how powerful He is. I failed to trust Him and thought I could manage our lives alone. I kept trying to earn His favor and failing miserably. And I hid from you too many things. My recklessness nearly got you and those we love killed.” He pressed his lips together. “Bishop Malou once accused me of trying to play God. Never again.”
“So much death. Will southern Sudan ever rise above the years of war?”
“I hope so. I pray for the day when a Christian can travel back and forth peaceably between the North and the South, when the people of Darfur are no longer persecuted. When outsiders are not cautioned against entering our country. What the enemy refuses to acknowledge is the increasing amount of people the war has driven to Christ. Those who envision a reconciliation of all the tribes are calling out for God’s help.”
“I want unity for our people,” Larson said. “And for our children.”
He kissed her forehead. “We have a great love for each other and for Sudan. With God going before us, it can only be a matter of time before true peace exists. Can you imagine trained teachers? The villagers tilling gardens? Disease diminished? Clean drinking water? So much work is ahead, but I’m ready for it.”
“It seems like a dream.”
“Dreams of hope and freedom are what keep a man alive.”
IN THEIR BRIEF SEARCH of Judge Mendez’s office, Jon and Leah didn’t turn up anything of note. Jon contacted Houston FBI for a team to image the computer, sweep the room, and request a search warrant for the judge’s courthouse office. He hoped the FBI team had better luck.
In his truck with Leah beside him, Jon drove down Thirty-Second Street toward the home of Edgar Whitson, the witness to this morning’s crime. Leah had called him as a courtesy to make sure he was home.
GPD officers surrounded St. Peter’s on the corner. Jon parked half a block away from the church near the Whitson home, a freshly painted white bungalow facing seaward and backing up to the church. With residences lining only one side of the street, the chances of neighbors having cameras that might have picked up those who’d dumped the judge’s body decreased.
An elderly man with a full head of snow-white hair stepped out of the house onto a porch bordered with yellow roses as thick as dandelions in spring. An American flag waved from one porch post, and a Texas flag saluted them on the other. As Jon and Leah approached the porch, the man introduced himself. Jon reached out and shook his hand. “I’m Agent Colbert, and this is my partner, Agent Riesel.”
She grasped his hand. “We appreciate your willingness to talk to us.”
“I fought in the Punchbowl in 1951, the Korean War.” He nodded. “The families here on the island who’ve been hurt need to see justice served.” Mr. Whitson returned her smile. “Miss, the FBI’s doing a great job of recruiting pretty gals.”
“Thank you.”
“The wife’s lying down. Feeling a bit puny today. The older we get, sleeping comes full circle like we’re babies again.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “We won’t be long.”
“Whatever y’all need. Come on inside, where it’s cooler.” He opened the door to a living room bright with sunlight. Usually older people lived in the dark, at least in Jon’s experience. The scent of freshly brewed coffee met his nostrils.
Mr. Whitson led the way into the kitchen. “Made a new pot a few minutes ago. Want a cup?”
“A jolt of caffeine sounds wonderful,” Leah said.
“You, sir?”
“Never met a cup of coffee I didn’t like.” The three filled their cups, rich and dark like Jon preferred. He picked up a framed wedding photograph near the coffeemaker. A much younger Edgar, dressed in his Marines uniform, stood erect beside a lovely petite woman.
“That’s me and the missus some sixty-five years ago. The war was over, and we were ready to put it behind us.”
Jon handed it to Leah. “What a beautiful couple.” She glanced up. “Mr. Whitson, you’re still the same size as you were then.”
He laughed. “I’ll be sure to tell the missus. She complains about my middle. Our granddaughter’s an interior decorator, and she says pictures don’t go in the kitchen. But I don’t care.”
“Me, either.” Leah peered at the vintage photo. “Looks perfect here.”
“Mr. Whitson, we’d like to record your testimony.” Jon held up his cell phone. “Are you okay with that?”
The older man hesitated. “But can you keep my name out of it for the missus’s sake? The Venenos won’t take kindly to me talking to you folks.”
“We’ll keep your name from the media,” Jon said. “In fact, we’ll be knocking on your neighbors’ doors too. If your information leads to an arrest and the case goes to court, we’ll make sure you and your wife are protected.”
“Good.” Mr. Whitson nodded. “Let’s take our coffee out back. Been thinking about the view from there, and you might want to take a few pictures.”
“Mr. Whitson, you’re a smart man,” Jon said. “Might need to recruit you.”
Leah held up her phone to Jon. “I’ll take the pics if you’ll record.”
Outside, humidity dripped from plants and flowers. Jon complimented him on his vegetable garden. Huge red tomatoes, green and red bell peppers, and two varieties of lettuce. Jon gazed about sixty feet over the five-foot-tall bush line to the rear door of St. Peter’s. “What happened this morning?”
“I woke early, before 6 a.m., and thought I’d pick a fresh tomato from the garden. Me and the wife like ’em for breakfast. I went outside and heard a commotion at the back of the church, like a thump. I peered over there and saw two men at the rear door. They walked down the steps to a car parked real close. One of them slammed the trunk. Drove off. Didn’t think much about it until I saw the police show up around 8:30. I went over and learned a body had been found at the church. I told an officer I needed to talk to whoever was in charge. They connected me to Chief of Police Everson. He told me the FBI had been called in to work the case. Before you two got here, I heard on the news about Judge Mendez’s body left at St. Peter’s back door.”
“Are you sure of what you saw?” Leah said. “It’s still dark then.”
“There’s a light pole in the church’s parking lot, and I have one mounted back here on my garage.” Mr. Whitson pointed to both. “The lights showed me the man’s face who shut the trunk. He looked familiar, but I didn’t place him until Agent Riesel called me about your visit.” He yanked a weed shooting up from a bottlebrush. “Thought I got all them boogers.”
Jon wanted to be
that spry one day. “Can you give us a name?”
“Hate to accuse a man of a vicious crime. But why were those men back there unless they were up to no good? The man was Dylan Ortega. He and his mother belong to St. Peter’s, like me and my wife. Well, his mom attends regular, and he’s there at Christmas, Easter, and Mother’s Day. You know, a holiday Christian.”
“And you’re sure his name is Dylan Ortega?”
“Yes, sir. When he was younger, he’d help me pull weeds in my flower beds and keep the yard looking good. Great kid then. I speak to him when he comes to church. He’s changed in his looks—longer hair and an earring. Not judging those things, only noticing a difference. Sorry to say he did time for burglary a while back.”
Jon jotted down the need for a background on Ortega. “Can you describe the second person?”
“Similar build. Wore a baseball cap over his eyes.”
“Make of car?”
“When it backed out under the pole light, I caught sight of the hood. Looked like a Mustang. Dark color.”
“Dylan Ortega might have a legitimate reason for being at the church.”
“There isn’t Mass then, and even in my day young people didn’t go to confession at 6 a.m.” The older man was blunt and spot-on.
“Anything else?”
“Don’t think so.”
“We appreciate your coming forward. If you think of anything you’ve missed, please contact us.” Jon gave him his business card.
“If what I saw brings justice in the judge’s death or either of those other victims, I’m glad I spoke up.” He arched his shoulders. “Oorah.”
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Discussion Questions
Despite having a price on his head, Paul Farid continues to travel around his home country of Sudan, speaking to people about the love of God and encouraging them in their faith. What drives him to reach out to his countrymen? Are his actions too reckless? Is Paul risking too much by putting his life on the line . . . and even endangering others?
Why is Larson reluctant to tell Paul the results of her pregnancy test? What repercussions does she fear? If you were friends with Paul and Larson, what counsel would you give them about starting a family, given their work and callings?
Colonel Ben Alier spent more than two decades fighting for freedom from an oppressive government. What reasons does Ben have to be skeptical of the peace accord that was brokered between the North and South in 2005? Are his fears justified? When you’ve dedicated much of your life to a certain movement, what makes it difficult to let go when the time comes?
In the midst of the 2005 peace talks, there was a humanitarian crisis happening in Darfur, where the government of Sudan was carrying out a campaign of ethnic cleansing, primarily targeting non-Arabs. What do you know about the conflict in western Sudan that has affected nearly three million people to date? What responsibility does the global community have when a government is committing acts like genocide?
When Larson reminds Paul that God is in control of situations that feel overwhelming, his response is “I have to do my part.” How much truth is in that statement? What pitfalls might Paul fall into by wholeheartedly believing that idea?
Paul wrestles with a decision to meet with his brother in person, especially when his prayers for wisdom seem to yield only God’s silence. Aside from an audible voice from heaven, in what ways might God answer a prayer like Paul’s? Does Paul make the right decision in the end? What should you do when it seems like God’s ignoring your pleas?
Why is Ben so opposed to telling his friends and family about his diagnosis? Why do you think he chooses to forgo treatment? What does it take to change his mind?
After Larson is shot, Paul is filled with feelings of hatred toward the perpetrators and anyone who may have had knowledge of the shooting. His emotions are so intense that he cries out to God, asking to bring Him these negative feelings “in small pieces.” When you encounter an issue that feels overwhelming, what do you do to tackle it? What might it look like to take a problem to God “in small pieces”?
When Larson becomes an “instant mother” by adopting Thomas, she is consumed with a need to see to the baby’s physical safety—even if it means abandoning the duty she has to serve in Sudan. Would she show a lack of faith by leaving the village and not trusting God to provide a safe place for their baby? What does she do to find peace? What would you do in her shoes?
Ben is willing to go to nearly any length to be a father to his son, even fabricating feelings about the young man’s mother. Is he doing the honorable thing in marrying her? What eventually convinces him to pursue a different sort of relationship with her?
As Larson finds herself facing an uncertain future, she lists some of the regrets she has over the way she’s behaved recently. What steps can you take to avoid living with regrets, no matter where tomorrow leads?
At the end of the story, when all seems lost, rescue comes from a surprising direction. Why do you think that person steps in to save the day? Does that action demonstrate a change of heart or redeem the person in your eyes?
About the Author
DiAnn Mills is a bestselling author who believes her readers should expect an adventure. She combines unforgettable characters with unpredictable plots to create action-packed romantic suspense novels.
Her titles have appeared on the CBA and ECPA bestseller lists; won two Christy Awards; and been finalists for the RITA, Daphne du Maurier, Inspirational Reader’s Choice, and Carol Award contests. Firewall, the first book in her FBI: Houston series, was listed by Library Journal as one of the best Christian fiction books of 2014.
DiAnn is a founding board member of the American Christian Fiction Writers and a member of Advanced Writers and Speakers Association, Mystery Writers of America, Sisters in Crime, and International Thriller Writers. She is codirector of the Blue Ridge Mountain Christian Writers Conference, where she continues her passion of helping other writers be successful. She speaks to various groups and teaches writing workshops around the country.
DiAnn has been termed a coffee snob and roasts her own coffee beans. She’s an avid reader, loves to cook, and believes her grandchildren are the smartest kids in the universe. She and her husband live in sunny Houston, Texas.
DiAnn is very active online and would love to connect with readers through her website at diannmills.com or on Facebook (facebook.com/DiAnnMills), Twitter (@DiAnnMills), Pinterest (pinterest.com/DiAnnMills), and Goodreads (goodreads.com/DiAnnMills).
FBI TASK FORCE SERIES
FBI: HOUSTON SERIES
CALL OF DUTY SERIES
HOPE OF SUDAN
ATTRACTED TO FIRE
FATAL STRIKE
BURDEN OF PROOF
TRIAL BY FIRE
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