Indivisible. Part 29

"The deliberate confidence in the character of G.o.d whether we understand or not." Her version of Oswald Chambers, and the only explanation she could manage.

In the silence she wondered if it had sounded glib. Or merely resigned. She'd meant neither. "Without hope, there are only two choices, faith or despair."

The voice rasped. "What about joy?"

"In my experience, joy isn't possible without hope. But with faith there is still the possibility of victory."

"How can you have victory without joy?"

"You embrace what's left to you, not turning your back to the challenge but facing it head on. It's not easy, and it may not feel good, but it's better than giving in." For the first time in years she saw herself as the pirate child, lashed to the rigging as the storm cast itself upon her, tearing at her with vicious fingers and howling in her ears. She felt like howling back. How dare despair devour her?

"I have six weeks to live."

Her heart thumped. She pressed a hand to her chest, groping, and then saying the only thing that came. "Your grief must be tremendous."

"Lung cancer. All my life the kids told me to quit, begged me to quit. But I couldn't. I didn't want to. I never even tried. Never thought I should have to. I'm fifty-nine years old, and I won't see sixty."

"How do you want to spend the time left you?"

Her silence weighed the next two minutes down like lead. "I don't want them to hope when there is none."

"If you didn't smoke these next six weeks, what would that tell them?"

"That I could have done it before."

"Or that you're doing it for them."

"They'll be mad I didn't do it sooner."

"Anger is an expression of grief. You don't get mad when you don't care. Love and anger are entwined."

The woman started to cry, wrenching sobs, then coughs, coughs that seemed to rip the lungs out of her.

When the spasms pa.s.sed, Tia spoke softly. "There may be no hope to beat this, but there's hope in courage, there's hope in sacrifice and in loving others enough to bring them joy even when you can't find it yourself."

A long sigh, pregnant with emotion said she'd struck a chord.

"Despair will devour every good thing until there's nothing but bitter regret. But if you choose faith-believe that even this has a purpose and grace you can't see-then you may yet find hope, and in both, joy."

An exhalation of breath so deep Tia prayed it wasn't the caller's last.

In barely a whisper, "You've saved my life."

She swallowed. "I pray the peace of G.o.d that is beyond understanding will guard your heart and mind in Christ Jesus. And that grace and joy and hope will be your companions until the end."

"G.o.d bless you," she gasped, and the call ended.

Tia lay down, eyes open in the dark, stunned and staring. How long had she been locked in the hold?

Jonah checked his watch: 6:25 a.m. He'd slept fitfully, but he had to be in court for Sam's arraignment, and he hoped to talk to him beforehand. The shower cleared his mind of the night's residual gloom. Hot coffee and eggs fortified him to go get the job done.

Outside the interrogation room, he eyed Sue. "It's your call." He had relayed the scene in the kitchen with Sam and Eli and watched the anger bleed from her. "He's not trying to hurt either of you. But that doesn't mean he won't."

She nodded.

"With his priors they won't defer. The criminal negligence alone could mean time. The positives for pot and meth trace will require rehab before he has contact with Eli again. If he gives us something we can use, they might drop the kidnapping charge."

Her forehead puckered. "His public defender is young and egotistical enough to hold out for a sympathetic jury, clearing him with no deal."

"Uh-huh."

Sue rolled her eyes. "You put whole conversations into those two syllables."

"I need to know what you want."

She folded her arms. "That gets complicated."

"Don't I know."

"If he could help us get the lab ..." Her cop sense kicked in.

"If it's local-and we've had enough indications to make me believe it is-I'll stop at nothing else."

Her face softened. "He's never intentionally hurt either one of us. The meth, if he's using that, it's new."

"There can't be trace if he hasn't used. But it's possible the cannabis was laced. That's how they get new customers." They'd found pot in a search of his truck when he kidnapped Eli. It was at the lab for testing. He checked his watch again. "I need to get in there if we're going to talk before arraignment."

"I guess you need to do what you can to help us fix this mess. And nail the sc.u.m that made that drug available."

That meant a deal with the DA. If he could get any sense that Sam would give him what he needed, he'd bring it to them.

He squeezed her shoulder, then went into the interrogation room. Jonah sat down across the table from Sam. He could see fear that hadn't been as visible before, but also a desperate kind of hope. "You're gonna do real time here, Sam, unless you give the DA something to work with."

"Or the jury decides in our favor." His young lawyer had maybe begun to shave.

Sam said, "I don't know what you want. I told you I didn't hurt Eli. His fall was an accident."

The kid lawyer must have pumped him up. "Criminal negligence while under the influence of a drug resulting in injury of a minor child. Possession of said drug. Violation of a court order. Kidnapping."

Sam wilted. He opened his mouth and closed it.

"The kidnapping's bogus." The lawyer smirked. "He simply gave comfort to his son."

Jonah narrowed his eyes. "He removed him from his court-appointed temporary guardians."

"They wouldn't let me talk to him, to calm him down."

The lawyer put a hand on Sam's arm. "Don't talk."

To Sam, "I understand. But you have to give me something to work with."

"What else can I say?"

"Greggor."

"What?"

"You cooperate with another investigation, and we'll work with you on this."

"I don't know any Greggor." Sam spread his hands, a little shaky-from withdrawal?

"Are you tweaking?"

His hands squeezed closed, opened and closed. He looked at his lawyer who said, "No comment."

Sam scratched his forearm. It wasn't the first time.

"Feels like bugs?"

His breath quickened. He grimaced. His teeth, while not pristine, showed nowhere near the decay they would in the not-distant future. "Your toke have more kick to it lately?"

Sam's eyes darted.

"Come on, Sam."

His face screwed up. "Look. I got some weed from Caldwell. I don't know any Greggor."

"I think you do." Sue had told him as much, but he'd protect that if he could.

"No, I'm telling you. It's Caldwell you should lean on."

"You must have wondered what was in the pot. Or maybe you knew, maybe you thought a little extra wouldn't hurt. Then maybe you wanted more, you wanted it straight. Needed it straight."

Sam scratched his arms, leaving welts.

"Maybe Greggor threatened you, threatened your family if you said anything. I mean come on, your wife's a cop."

Again fear flickered. "I can't do it, man."

Sue burst through the door. "Do it, Sam."

Sam stiffened, clenched his hands and swallowed. He wanted to resist, maybe thought he could still handle it all himself, then realized he hadn't a chance. "If I tell you what I know, when you go in, Sue's not with you."

"You can't say that," Sue snapped.

"Yes, he can." Jonah turned to her. "You have the coming child to think about."

Sam turned to her with an ache in his eyes as he took in the bulge of her belly inside the blue hoodie. Jonah gave him a moment to process what he'd just heard. Sam was no hardened criminal. Maybe not even a veteran addict. Prison would change that. And he knew it.

His eyes reddened. He turned back. "I don't want my kids to grow up without me."

Jonah frowned. "There's a greater chance of that happening with meth than anything you say in this room. But that's another story."

Sam squeezed his shaking hands. "I only know Greggor's the cooker."

"Where?"

He shook his head, the slump of his shoulders showing no defiance. "I don't know, man."

"Have you seen him?"

"Maybe. With another guy. Big. Bald. Named Malcolm. Malcolm made the threats."

They might get an ID out of that. Jonah took out a legal pad. "Write what you know and sign it."

In the special room they reserved for the puppies, Liz unwrapped the cloth that held them together. Only days old, they barely moved, but whatever adjustments they made, they made together, side by side. Such precious companions. She lifted and nestled them under her chin.

Lucy leaned over her shoulder. "Have you ever seen anything so sweet?"

Liz rested her head against Lucy's. "Never."

"They're okay?"

"Oh yes."

"Should we name them?"

Liz paused. "If you like."

"I'll name one and you the other?"

"You can name them both."

"No, Lizzie. It has to be us together."

"Okay. I'll name mine Daisy."

"Then mine is Bell. Like the song." Lucy wrapped an arm around Liz's shoulders and began to sway. Her voice was pure and high. "There is a flower within my heart, Daisy, Daisy! Planted one day by a glancing dart, planted by Daisy Bell. Now you."

Not many knew the introduction to their song, but they'd sung it endlessly whirling on the merry-go-round. "Whether she loves me or loves me not, sometimes it's hard to tell. Yet I am willing to share the lot of beautiful Daisy Bell." "Whether she loves me or loves me not, sometimes it's hard to tell. Yet I am willing to share the lot of beautiful Daisy Bell."

Then together: "Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer do. I'm half crazy, all for the love of you." "Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer do. I'm half crazy, all for the love of you." And then the part they'd improvised: And then the part they'd improvised: "It won't be a stupid marriage. We can't afford a carriage. But we'll look sweet upon the seat of a bicycle built for two." "It won't be a stupid marriage. We can't afford a carriage. But we'll look sweet upon the seat of a bicycle built for two."

Liz laid the puppies down and rewrapped the cloth a little more loosely with room to grow, but not apart, never apart.

In the DA's office at the county courthouse, Jonah presented his case and waited. He'd had to wait two days after Sam's arraignment for an appointment with the a.s.sistant DA a.s.signed to the case, but because Sam had no money to post bail, he'd be sitting until the trial date anyway.

ADA Ana Ramirez tapped her pen on her chin. She was a small woman, round in a Latina way with black hair cut bluntly at her shoulders. Not traditionally attractive but someone he could imagine spending interesting evenings with, someone who might harbor fires that only blazed in the right conditions. He didn't mind a.s.sessing her that way because she did the same of him every time they talked.