Page 93 of Facing the Enemy
Dr. Looney leaned forward. “Risa, you’re carrying a huge burden, one that would destroy most people. I commend you for your courage to turn back to God, to honestly admit your inability to forgive yourself, God, the person who ended Trenton’s life, and to move forward in finding who’s behind the crimes of late.”
“Why do I sense abut?”
I saw the concern in her eyes. “What do you think?”
I blinked back the embarrassing tears. My mind wandered to those dark corners that shouted “killer” and “your fault.” The memories flooded like the humiliating tears. My head throbbed in time to Trenton’s heartbeat—not mine. I no longer felt mine—oh, I loved Gage. Or had my emotions dissipated to the point I really had no concept of love?
Trenton ... Maybe if I’d tried harder when he was gone those years. I monitored his criminal charges, but I didn’t reach out. Why? How could I represent Jesus if I couldn’t communicate as a sister to my own brother? Why hadn’t I called Mom and Dad about the dinner with Trenton? If they’d been there, the walk across the street might not have taken place.
Blame game.
Guilt game.
Shame game.
I’d attempted to return to my career, but who else would die because of me?
Time didn’t heal. That was a lie from the pits of hell. I’d tried to make sense of life, even determined to shove my pain into something creative by showing students how to fashion words into something beautiful, meaningful, and bursting with purpose.
God knew I needed all three to heal ... and maybe forgive myself.
I lifted my chin and wadded the wet tissue in my fist. “How do I forgive?”
50
GAGE
I intended to work until I dropped, and the service cleaning my car wouldn’t be finished until after six today. I checked security cams near the traffic lights and Starbucks where Risa and I had met Ethan, focusing until I saw enough of the female driver of the mobile pet-grooming business to determine her height and build. The woman was taller, older, and she wore tennis shoes. I zoomed in and studied the screen.
A second person hunched low from behind the dumpster. He or she placed something underneath the front carriage of Ethan’s car, then disappeared. I couldn’t get a clear picture if the jean-clad person was a slight man or a woman with hair tucked under a ball cap.
I forwarded the findings to Risa and texted her, but she didn’t respond.
My phone alerted me to a call—Ms. Wright from Houston Healing and Hope Maternity Care. Curiosity rose in me. We all could use solid evidence.
“Good afternoon, Ms. Wright. How can I help you?”
“Clyde Washington, my right-hand man, told me about meeting with you. He’s more than an employee, he’s a good friend, a confidant during trials, and we’ve done our best to parent our birth mothers.Agent Patterson, I’m eaten up with guilt about a matter. I ... I can’t hide it any longer. I wanted to talk to Jack Bradford or Luke Reardon, but the receptionist said neither man was there. She asked if I’d like to speak to you.”
“Jack is in the hospital.”
She gasped. “Why?”
“Assaulted and suffered a heart attack.”
“How terrible. I hope he has a full recovery. Is Agent Reardon out of the office?”
“No, ma’am. Someone killed him.” Silence met me for several moments.
“What is wrong with our world?” Ms. Wright whispered. “Good people hurt and killed while protecting the rest of us. I’m glad I found the courage to call you. I think I have information about Hai and Suzi Phan. I ... I suspect one of my staff.”
“Who?”
“I hate to say this, but my intake person, Myra Cummings. She’s been with me for nine years, and I love her dearly, but I overheard her having a conversation with one of our mothers. Myra was in the middle of a counseling session and providing resources in the way of medical assistance. The mother asked how to give up her baby other than taking a newborn to a fire department or police department location. Myra suggested a private adoption where the birth mother would be reimbursed for expenses and more to help her get back on her feet. She’d be willing to find a lawyer to arrange it. Agent Patterson, her offer frightened me, and I’ve kept it bottled up inside.”
“How long ago did you overhear this conversation?”
“Six or so months ago.”
