The Lies We Believe: A Christian Suspense Novel Page 9

As I got off the bed and made it to the doorway, I felt the urge to sprint, to run right out the door screaming, but I didn't. I kept calm all the way until I got in my car and a block away. It was then that I screamed.

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  TAKING THE NOTES OUT AT my house, I set them out on the kitchen table and began to pace in circles. I didn't know what to do. The detective told me to simply wait for her to show up. Wait for how long? I hadn't a clue. I could call Lighthouse or go there directly, but what good would that do? If I talked directly to Gloria, I could blow her cover.

  After a half hour of pacing, I called the detective's phone number from the card she had given me for emergencies only.

  It went to voicemail.

  "Hey. I found a note, two of them. I know you said to wait for you to show up, but I'm freaking out. Call me back or something. Thanks. Ron."

  Hanging up, I took the notes and went into the living room. Sitting down in my recliner, I turned the TV on and set them on a little table beside my chair. I tried to keep myself distracted with reruns of an old TV show I grew up watching. After an hour or two, I thought of my buddy Charles. He was wrong about the cult being innocent. In fact, he was way wrong. Jumping up from my seat, I went over to my bookshelf and grabbed my digital camera. Taking a couple of pictures of the notes, I took the digital camera into my bedroom.

  Hooking it up to the computer, I zipped the photos onto an email and sent them over to Charles to look at. His initial research back when I first came to him about Lighthouse hadn’t uncovered the mess I was finding myself in.

  I hadn't even made it back to my recliner when the phone rang.

  Sitting down in my chair, I answered.

  It was Charles.

  “This never showed up, Ron. I knew those coroners’ reports looked too perfect. Dang it. You know, six months ago when you had me try to dig more, I found a breadcrumb from another hacker, but I thought it was coincidence.” His voice was panicked, his words fast and slippery.

  "Slow down, Charles. What are you saying?"

  "This isn't good, Ron. Someone—someone like me—is hiding their dirt. You aren't messing around with some slaphappy yup who wants to have a few girls around him at all times and have a tax exemption. You're dealing with someone dark and—"

  Click.

  The phone cut out. I pressed the receiver a few times, but there was no dial tone. I hung up the phone.

  Suddenly, I heard what sounded like a window break outside in the backyard near the garage and shop.

  "What was that?" Hurrying to my bedroom, I grabbed my twenty-two from under the bed and headed out front, looping around to the back.

  My shop door was open a fraction, only darkness looming on the other side.

  With trembling hands, I cocked the shotgun and raised the barrel. "Who's there?"

  Silence returned.

  My index finger trembled as it rested on the trigger. My livelihood was in that shop and garage. I couldn't just walk away. Approaching cautiously, I came up to the door. Praying, I asked God to let me not have to shoot anyone. Coming right up to the doorway, I pushed the door with the tip of the barrel. "Who's in there?"

  No response.

  Proceeding inside, I reached a hand to flip on the switch, but then suddenly, a crushing blow hit me in the side of the head, sending me and my twenty-two crashing to the ground. Darkness engulfed my vision.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  BLINKING MY EYES OPEN, I found myself lying in my bed. The window in the room was open, a small summer breeze blowing in, playing with the red curtains. A crushing headache filled the space between my ears as I tried to sit up. Gaining my focus, I brought my hands up to rub my face. I noticed one hand and arm were covered in blood. Dried, but blood nonetheless. It looked like it had been washed off to some degree, but not very well. My heart pounded and I tried to think. Hurrying out from the blankets, I saw more blood down the front of my shirt and jeans. My shoes near the closet in my room had blood on them too. Suddenly, a knock came at my front door and I peeked out my window. To my dismay, it was the police. My countenance fell.

  I had to say something, and quick. Leaning toward the opening in the window, I said, "Just a second, I'm getting dressed." Shutting the window quickly after, I peered toward the closet and tried to think quickly. I hurried and grabbed my shoes, then threw them in the closet along with my jeans and shirt. Grabbing my bathrobe, I hurried over to the bathroom down the hall and grabbed a towel to hide my bloodied arm. My heart pounded in my ears as I walked down the hall toward the living room and the front door. Jail wasn’t a place I had ever been or wanted to go, and I feared I could be heading there today.

  Opening the door a fraction, I looked out. "What can I do for you, Officer?"

  "A neighbor said they heard a woman screaming over here earlier. We came to check things out." The officer tried to look past me inside. “Mind if I come in?”

  I knew if I refused, it’d look bad and drag this entire thing out. If I said ‘yes’ there could be something inside my house that could lead to my arrest. There was no winning. My eyes fell on the policeman’s eyes, and I could see they were heavy with exhaustion from his job, from his life. He hadn’t come out to my house to get me. He was just doing his job. I felt a little better in the second I realized that and invited him in. “Of course, come on in.”

  Another officer suddenly came into my view as he came out from the side of my house. Our eyes met. “Do you mind if I look in your shop, sir?”

  “Go for it.”

  I let the first officer into my house, and he began to look around a little, then he came over to me. "Who was the woman who was over here?"

  "There was no woman over here."

  The officer from outside came in. “Shop was fine.”

  That same officer who had inspected the shop continued into the kitchen, and I felt a part of me unhinge, my hand starting to tremble. I hadn't even looked in the kitchen. For all I knew, the sink was splattered with blood and a body was on the floor. As I saw him go in there, I thought about the fact that I had been framed and set up, not to mention hit over the head.

  "You okay?" the officer with me in the living room asked, obviously detecting my uneasiness.

  "I'm fine," I replied with a nod.

  The other officer exited the kitchen and headed down the hallway toward my bedroom. The pounding in my ears grew louder as fear climbed up into my throat. Not only were there cops in my house and blood on my hands, but I hadn't a clue what had happened. Leaving the officer to snoop around my living room, I went into the kitchen and got a glass of water to try to calm myself down.

  Looking out to the shop, I saw the door shut tightly, and I tried to think of what had happened out there. It was all fuzzy, though, and I was too focused on the police officers in my house to think clearly. Setting my cup down, I went back to the living room. What felt like an eternity passed, and then the officer finally came out from my bedroom, back down the hallway, and out to us.

  "Everything checks out, Mike."

  I was relieved that he didn't seem to dig at all.

  They apologized for disturbing me and left my house and property. As I saw the taillights of the police car roll down the road, I tore off the towel from my hand and hurried into the kitchen to scrub the blood off. What happened? I tried to conjure the last thing I remembered, but all I could see in my mind's eye was me walking up to the door of the shop.

  Turning off the faucet, I dried my hands and looked at the shop again. The door to the shop was open now, and my heart dipped. Whoever did this was still here. Throwing the towel on the counter, I ran out of the kitchen and out the front door, heading to the shop.

  Coming up to the door, I could see a spot of blood on the metal grate that covered the doorway’s base on the ground. How’d the cop miss this blood? I wondered fearfully as I pushed onward into my shop. I ducked as I flipped on the light switch and saw my work in progress sitting perfectly intact. Whoever was messing w
ith me hadn’t touched the car. Walking deeper into the shop, I came over to the Impala and glanced in. My heart wrenched. Yanking open the door, I looked upon Milo. He was on the bench up front, dead. How did that cop not see this? Tears came and I glanced at my blood-stained hands. I backed away from the car and covered my mouth as I fell to my knees and cried. On the cold cement floor of my shop, I shook my head, trying to understand why someone would do this to Milo, do this to me.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  WHEN I FINALLY GOT BACK inside after cleaning up and burying Milo out by Lucy in the back alongside the garage, the sun had already gone down. I dragged my sad and tired body to the recliner and the little table where I had left the notes I took from Teresa's house. To my surprise, they were gone. Whoever had killed Milo must have taken the notes. It began to make sense. Someone didn’t like the fact that I had those, and they took them and paid me back by killing my cat.

  Just then, my phone rang.

  Going into the kitchen, I thought about the fact that I had lost my connection earlier when I was talking to Charles. The phone was working now.

  I answered.

  It was Maria.

  "Could you come down to my shop? There's something I need to talk to you about."

  Her voice was unusual, full of kindness and almost eagerness to see my face. "What? Why? It's already nine o'clock at night, Maria."

  She sighed. Then she said, "Please. I have a shipment in of those neat coconut chocolates I know you love, Ronald. Come down and see me."

  I knew right then that it was some sort of distress call. She was in trouble. If there were one thing that Maria knew about me from all those years of marriage, it'd be the fact that I loathed anything coconut. Worry set into my thoughts of how devastated Emily would be if I let something happen to her mother. I had to go. Hanging up, I grabbed my coat and keys and headed downtown to her little gift shop to see what was going on.

  As I pulled up along the curb, I parked across the street and tried to get a look inside. I figured maybe whoever got to Milo got to her too. Maybe a hostage situation was going on? Maybe something else. Nope. She was busy filling the front glass display with chocolates, and then she rang up a customer. I didn't see anything amiss. Rubbing my forehead as I took a deep breath and let myself relax, I thought of Emily. I thought of Teresa. The situation I was finding myself in was bigger than anything I had ever faced. I thought of my dad. He told me when I was young that part of becoming a man was being able to stand up and act when nobody else would. He also blamed that for the reason the world was the way it was, not enough good men taking action. I knew what my dad would do if he were me right now. He'd keep pushing forward. He never gave up on me, and I can’t ever give up on Emily.

  Seeing the one customer Maria had finally leave the shop, I got out of my truck and crossed the street.

  Stepping through the doorway, the wood of the door dinged a bell above my head, sounding my arrival.

  Maria looked over at me. Her hair was curly today, just like I used to like it. I could still see that young woman I fell for all those years ago. Sure, we weren't together anymore, and she ripped my heart out when she left me for Jim, but it didn't make me forget about the past, didn’t make me forget about the way she used to make me feel.

  "Maria."

  She moved swiftly over to the cash register and pulled a pad of paper out from under the register and began writing.

  She lifted the pad up and it read: We can't talk here. It's bugged. Go outside and I'll join you.

  I was about to leave when she began speaking.

  "Sorry, Ronald. We just ran out of coconut chocolate. Let me make it up to you with a coffee down the block?"

  "Okay. Sure." I continued to the door. She grabbed her purse and coat from the hook behind the counter and then joined me outside. Flipping the sign on the front door to Closed and locking up, she and I began to walk down the sidewalk.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  WE WALKED DOWN THE sidewalk a couple of blocks, then she came to a stop and turned to me. Maria's eyes welled with tears as she leaped toward me and clung onto my coat. It wasn't just awkward, it was frightening. She had always been such a strong woman in our marriage and even through our divorce. Gently, I pushed her off me.

  "What's going on, Maria?"

  Shaking her head, she wiped tears from her eyes. "They have my shop bugged, even my home. Everything is, Ron. They probably have your place too."

  "Who's bugging your shop?"

  "Lighthouse. I’m under so much stress, I can barely deal with it. The gift shop isn’t doing that well anymore."

  My heart raced. If they had our places bugged, that meant they'd been listening for a while now. Oh, no. They could have heard me leave that voicemail on Gloria's phone. My face turned to a grimace as guilt weighed itself on my shoulders.

  "What's wrong?" she asked.

  "Uh, um." Running my fingers through my hair, I shook my head. "Someone I know is in danger." Turning, I was about to run, but she grabbed my arm, stopping me forcefully.

  "What are we going to do, Ron?" Her eyes ran with tears as they begged for a shred of hope. "I can't lose my baby."

  Pausing, I came close to her and pulled her in for a hug. As I held her, I said, "I know we don't get along very well these days, Maria, but I promise you this—I will rescue Emily or die trying. Stay close to Jim, and maybe buy a gun for protection, okay?"

  Holding my ex-wife in my arms, I didn't feel an ounce of hate for her. I wanted her to take comfort in my words. I wanted her to know everything would be okay. Squeezing a little bit more, I kissed the side of her head and looked up at the night sky. Dear God, help Maria's heart. Help her find comfort in You, Lord, and the faith she once had. Help her find it again. Amen.

  Releasing from our embrace, I left down the sidewalk back toward my truck. I needed to get over to the Lighthouse and warn the detective before it was too late. I didn't know what would become of her if they put the pieces together, but I knew what they had already done to my Milo.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  ARRIVING AT THE ENTRANCE OF the community, I found the gates closed. It was far past eight o'clock, when visiting hours ended. I jumped out of my truck and ran up to the closed gate. The headlights on my truck shone through the slates of open air between the twisted metal. I tried to climb the gate but failed. Maybe at a younger age, I could have made it, but not now. Seeing through the spaces between the bars, I couldn't see anyone or anything other than the main entrance building and a lone light atop the peak of the roof.

  Rattling the gate, I shouted, "You’d better not do anything to her, Henry! You’d better not!"

  The intercom system on the keypad for the gate kicked on with a beep, followed by a green light, then a voice. "Sir, we're closed for the day. Come back tomorrow."

  A shred of hope ignited inside me as I recognized Joan's voice over the airway. Sprinting over to the keypad, I found the intercom response button and held it. "Joan! It's me, Ron. Let me in!"

  "I'm afraid that won't be possible."

  "Look, Joan . . . I need to get in there. I'm worried something has happened or could happen. A life depends on it."

  A far-off beep sounded, and I looked. It appeared to come from a gate in the cinderblock wall. It opened, and out came a shadowy figure in the shape of a man. Walking into the light, I saw it was Henry. He was wearing a white tuxedo and a red bow tie. He walked down the cement path and right up to the gate on the other side. I didn't say a word. I just stood there staring at him as I did my best not to lose control.

  "Hello, again, Mr. Fields."

  "Where is she?"

  "Your daughter? She's waiting for me on the balcony overlooking the infinity pool."

  I didn't think he knew about Gloria. I breathed a relieved sigh.

  Joan came hurrying up to his side and grabbed at his arm. "Sir, the network admins believe they've got the network back up."

  Henry flushed and turned his attention to
Joan, moving with her as he tried to silence her. "That's great, but we shouldn't let that information out to the public."

  Hearing of their network issues, I thought of Charles and couldn't help but smile. Knowing very little about computers and networks, I did know one thing. I knew a feed on a wiretap could be interrupted if the connectivity was interfered with, which would happen if their entire network was down. Turning around, I went back to my truck and got in, smiling the whole time. Henry didn't have a clue who Gloria really was, and that meant one thing—she was still safe.

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

  A LOUD KNOCK SOUNDED ON my front door at a quarter to midnight that evening. The knocking was furious and full of anger, pulling me from a deep sleep. I grabbed my twenty-two from under my bed and started down the hallway. More knocking sounded, and I cocked the gun, raising it as I came into the living room. Scurrying quietly across the floor and over to the large window looking outside, I glanced out and saw detective Gloria standing on my front porch.

  Relieved, I put the safety on and leaned the gun against the wall to answer the door.

  I let her inside.

  She stepped through the doorway and shut it behind her.

  “How are you getting out to come see me?”

  Bringing a finger to her lip, she motioned to me to keep quiet and then she pulled out a small gray rectangular box from her pocket and turned a switch on the device. Going around the house, she found several bugs and showed me each of them. We didn't speak a word inside. Finally, she led me out the front door and into the grass of the front yard. Reaching out, she grabbed my coat and pulled a button off my jacket, then ran the detector over me. No beeps.

  She glanced over her shoulder toward the road and then back at me. “It’s not easy to get out of the Lighthouse community undetected, but we have some help. It’s not important. What is important is the fact that you're not safe here, Ron. They have your house bugged. Luckily, I had you bugged too, and my men were able to shut down all connectivity at the Lighthouse earlier today before they found out the truth about me. You need to get somewhere safe. Do you know of anywhere you can go? Maybe out of town for a bit?"