Misconceptions Page 21

  Cindy gripped Travis’s arm and let out a slight groan. No Braxton Hicks contractions this time. He didn’t have much time. “You’re in no position to threaten me. I’ve already spoken with the police. I handed them evidence they’ve wanted for a long time. If I were you, I’d be plotting my escape, not wasting time trying to make one last heinous deal.”

  “You’re bluffing!” Vinnie’s eyes narrowed.

  “What did I have to lose? You took everything I owned. But you can’t have my wife or my child. Now get out of here!” He waved the gun towards the door.

  Vinnie spat. “You son of a— ” He closed the distance between them faster than Travis thought a man his size could move. A meaty fist connected with Travis’s jaw.

  Travis’s head snapped back. He pushed Vinnie with both hands, then smacked him on the side of his head with the gun. The force knocked Vinnie to the ground.

  He stared at Vinnie sprawled out on the floor. He kicked him in the gut, but Vinnie’s groan brought no satisfaction. He aimed the gun at Vinnie’s head.

  Cindy stepped to his side. “I’ll call the police.”

  “He owns the police.” Travis’s hands shook. This man had taken everything from him, but he wouldn’t become a murderer like him. He tossed the gun to the couch. It missed and thunked to the ground. He grabbed Vinnie by the collar, pulled him several inches off the ground, and pounded him back down.

  He drove his right fist into Vinnie’s face, then his left into his stomach. Anger seemed to flow through his veins. It fueled punch after punch.

  “Travis, that’s enough!”

  The voice from the doorway made Travis freeze.

  Angelica pointed a gun in his direction. “It’s over, Travis. Don’t do anything more you’ll regret. Let’s go.”

  Cindy’s horrified expression broke his heart. He had to protect her.

  “We’re not going anywhere with you.” He spotted Houston’s pistol just in front of the sofa. Too far to reach.

  “I’m afraid you don’t have a choice.”

  Chapter Forty-One

  Houston’s large frame felt even larger crammed into one of the two small chairs in the compact ICU room. The steady sound of the ventilator both comforted and disturbed him. He’d seen people on breathing machines before, but this was his dad.

  Why did you do it, Dad? The unanswered question stabbed at his conscience. The nurses had told him to talk to him, but other than a host of questions, he didn’t know what to say.

  “How’s he doing?”

  Joe’s voice triggered a wave of relief. “He’s holding his own.” He let out a long sigh. “They wanted to know if Dad has a DNR. After he coded, they said they need to know his last wishes.” Houston forced the words past the lump in his throat.

  Joe studied the monitors and pulled the chart up on the computer. “His numbers have improved. That’s encouraging.” He pointed to the ventilator. “Did anyone indicate how long he’ll be on the machine?”

  “The doctor wants to meet with us in the morning. He’ll probably let us know more then. How’s Dominique doing?”

  “They’re keeping her overnight as a precaution.” Joe squeezed into the chair next to Houston. “How are you handling things?”

  Joe’s question released a swell of emotions. He focused on his hands, clasped together in his lap. Questions had been burning in his mind since the shooting, but he wasn’t sure he was ready to hear the answer.

  “Have you heard from Travis and Cindy?”

  “Kenny said he’s sending word to them. If they’re not here in a little while, I’ll try the burn phone I gave Travis.” He got up and paced back and forth in the small room.

  “Why don’t you go grab a cup of coffee? You’ve been here the whole time. I’ll take a shift.”

  “Thanks, I could use a break. You want me to bring you anything?”

  “No, I’m good.”

  The tension left Houston more with each step away from Dad’s room. What he really needed was a strong cup of coffee and a little fresh air.

  He took the stairs down to the first floor and headed toward the cafeteria, but slowed at the sight of the hospital chapel across from the elevator. Without additional thought, he opened the chapel door and entered the empty room. The smell of cedar and carnations hung in the air. The soft lighting reflected on the wooden pews and the stained glass windows.

  His feet felt heavy as he took a few steps in. What am I doing here? He left as quickly as he entered, and let the rich smell of fresh coffee draw him down the hallway to the cafeteria. After filling a tall Styrofoam cup with brew and paying the cashier, he returned to his original plan for a little fresh air and headed outdoors.

  He took a deep breath of the cool night air and slowly let it out. He circled the hospital gardens twice, then sat on one of the wooden benches. Thousands of bright stars sparkled above in the clear sky. Stunning. He automatically searched for his favorite constellations, but nothing could keep his mind from the questions eating at him. What if I never have a chance to speak with him? Is this how it’s going to end?

  “I thought I might find you out here. Mind if I join you?”

  Becky’s voice never failed to bring a smile to his face. He stretched his arm along the back of the bench as his answer and brushed her lips with a light kiss when she snuggled next to him. “You sure are a sight for sore eyes.” He kissed her neck and pulled her even closer. “How are the kids doing?”

  “They’re all settled in. Tabitha and Henry from church are watching them tonight and tomorrow.”

  Her comment nettled him. Was it truly his church? He attended, but didn’t belong. The lonely, empty feeling that had become so familiar stabbed at him again.

  Becky put her hand on Houston’s knee.“ Are you okay?”

  He took her hand in his. “I’m sorry, honey. I have a lot on my mind.”

  “Want to talk about it?”

  “It’s my dad.” He moved closer to Becky drawing her in for another hug.

  She remained silent.

  “I’ve hated him for so long. I’ll never forgive him for the way he treated his family when I was growing up. But now—” His throat tightened, but he wasn’t sure of what else to say anyway.

  “I’ve never understood what you have against him.”

  “You don’t know what it’s like to grow up with an alcoholic for a father. He missed every single little league baseball game I played in. He never saw the winning touchdown I scored my senior year to win the championship. Instead he was in a bar, smashed.” He stared out at the few cars remaining in the parking lot and shook his head.

  “I can’t even count how many times I made excuses for Dad’s drunken behavior. In spite of all that, Mom begged me on her deathbed to forgive him. She begged me not to let the hate keep me from knowing Christ as my Savior. But I couldn’t do either. I still can’t.” He voiced the last words in little above a whisper. He finished the last of his coffee and tossed the empty cup into the trash.

  Becky took his hand and gave it a squeeze but said nothing.

  “I’ve spent all day trying to figure out why he did it.” He tossed his hands in the air. “He knows I wear a bullet-proof vest. Why would he step in front of me and risk his own life? Why did he have to take matters into his own hands? The doctors aren’t even sure if he’s going to live.”

  “It was instinct, Houston. Your dad didn’t have time to think about whether or not you had a vest on. The only thing he was thinking about is that you’re not ready.”

  “But I was armed and had backup. We were more than prepared.”

  “I’m not talking about physical preparation, Houston. He knows you’re a great cop. Your dad stepped in front of you because you’re not spiritually prepared. He couldn’t chance whether or not you had your vest on. He wouldn’t have been able to live with himself if you died without Christ.” She paused. “I couldn’t bear it either.” She rested her head on his shoulder. “I know you find it hard to believe, but yo
ur dad loves you. That’s why he did what he did.” She squeezed his hand and released it.

  His throat tightened at the truth she spoke, but this time he was finally ready to listen. He had sat in church with her for too many years, listening to the preacher speak of heaven and hell. Despite all of the warnings, he’d never taken that step of faith.

  Becky cleared her throat. “What’s holding you back, Houston? What is it you’re clinging to that keeps you from the Lord? I used to think it was your unwillingness to forgive your father, but now I think there may be something more.”

  He focused on her face. She was so beautiful, so loving and kind. Her question was dead on. What is holding me back? Rejection? Disappointment? Not having all the answers? Deep down, he knew. He whispered, “I’m afraid.”

  Her eyes widened. “What are you afraid of?”

  He brushed away the hair that had fallen across her eyes. His fingers trailed down across the softness of her cheek. Heat climbed up his face. He’d gunned down criminals, had seen the depravity of man first-hand. How could he fully explain his apprehension when he barely understood them himself? “I’ve been doing things on my own for so long. I don’t know any other way.”

  “Are you afraid God will let you down?”

  How did she do it? She always asked the best questions, the kind that cut right to the heart of the matter. “Did I ever tell you about my eighth grade science fair project?”

  She shook head. “I don’t think so.”

  “It involved training a service dog. As my final project, I wanted to present the dog to a person in need of a trained companion. I found just the right dog at the humane society. His name was Bo. He was half Golden Retriever, half Lab, and 100 percent heart. He took to the training like a duck to water.” He stared up at the sky. “My mom was concerned because she knew I was becoming attached to the dog, but I kept on.

  “For the first time in my life, I felt I was not only I helping someone, but I had my dad’s attention. As the science fair drew near, I kept pestering him about coming, and he promised me he would.

  “The day finally arrived, and I was sick to my stomach.” He rubbed the stubble on his chin. “I don’t know which worried me more, giving the dog away or wondering if my dad would show. I was so sure he would finally be proud of me.”

  “Did he show up?”

  “No. He never made it. I worked for almost an entire year, gave my best friend away, took first prize at the fair, and my dad was too busy drinking to remember his promise.” He spoke past the lump in his throat. “To make matters worse, the next day he asked me where Bo was. I don’t think he ever cared. I promised myself I would never trust him again. My mom tried to make excuses for him, but I didn’t want to hear any more lies. To me, my father was dead.”

  “Did he ever apologize?”

  “Yeah, after he was sober. But by then it was too little, too late.”

  “The Lord’s not like that, Houston. He’ll never let you down.”

  On some level he wanted to believe her, to let go and trust God. Like when he’d encouraged Megan and Audrey to jump in the pool. He promised he’d catch them. Could he take that leap with God? He grasped Becky’s hand and interlocked his fingers with hers. “I don’t know if I’m ready for that yet. But I am thankful to God for blessing me with you.”

  Tears streamed down Becky’s face.

  He hated to see her cry. Worse, he hated it when he was the reason for the tears. "I’m sorry, honey, I didn’t mean to upset you. It’s been a long day. Let’s go up and check on him.”

  She retrieved a tissue from her purse and wiped the tears away. After she cleaned her face, she shifted to fully face him. “Don’t wait too long.”

  “I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

  “None of us are guaranteed tomorrow. Even bullet-proof vests can fail. Someone might not be there to jump in front of you.”

  He stared at the ground. Normally, this was the part of the conversation where he would clock out, or change the topic. Today he didn’t want to. Becky, Joe, and his father had something he wanted: peace.

  “I know how dangerous my job is. I’m always careful.” His voice was soft.

  “A thousand different things could happen.” She wrung her hands. “Where would you be then? Where are you going to spend eternity, Houston? I know your father hurt you, and I know it about killed you to watch your mom go downhill, but don’t you remember her dying words?”

  He gritted his teeth. His mom had pleaded with him to listen.

  “She begged you to forgive your dad and ask Christ into your heart. I’ve always wondered how you could just dismiss your own mother’s dying words.”

  He flinched at her words, but remained silent.

  “I know this sounds harsh—especially with Samuel fighting for his life—but I want you to think about what I’ve said.” She planted a kiss on his cheek. “I’m going to go up and see your dad. Please promise me you’ll think about what I've said?”

  How could he let her down? He would do just about anything to not disappoint her. His eyes met hers. “I promise.”

  “That’s all I can ask.” She stood and kissed him on the lips. “I’ll see you upstairs.”

  Her words bounced around in his mind. Where are you going to spend eternity, Houston? The question nagged at his conscience.

  He didn’t have an answer, but for the first time in his life he wanted one.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  The cabin walls closed in around Travis as he stared at Angelica. Travis stepped closer to Cindy and wiped away the blood accumulating at the corner of his mouth. “Take Vinnie and get out of here.” His heart thumped in his chest as he kept his eyes on her gun.

  Angelica’s gaze shifted to Cindy. “My instructions are to bring you both in. You’re wanted for questioning.” She took out a badge and flashed it. “I’m a federal agent. I’ve been on an undercover assignment. We share the same opinion of Mr. Fernandez.”

  Something didn’t add up. Why was she holding them at gunpoint if she was a federal agent?

  Cindy let out a series of short puffs. “She’s in labor. We can’t go anywhere.”

  “There’s a hospital about thirty miles away.” She put her gun back in its waistband holster. “I’ll drive you both there.”

  “If her labor is like her other pregnancies, the baby might be here before we can make it there. If you want to help, I suggest you start boiling some water.” He gently nudged Cindy back to the bedroom and helped her settle in on the bed. He tried not to think about the gun Angelica still had in her possession. “I should have never brought you so far from medical care. I’m sorry.”

  “You did what you had to in order to protect us.” She let out a quick gasp. “That was a big one. I’m scared, Travis. I’m not due for almost another month. What if something goes wrong?”

  He wanted to assure her they would be fine, but his insides were tying themselves up in knots. She didn’t need to add his fears to her own. “Let’s leave it in God’s hands.”

  Three quick raps sounded on the door. “I put the water on.” Angelica called through the door. “Do you want me to call for help?”

  “No, don’t call anyone,” Travis yelled from his perch next to Cindy. “Vinnie has too many connections. He wants this baby, and he’ll stop at nothing to get it.”

  “Ask her if she can call Houston,” Cindy whispered.

  Don’t you have the phone I gave you?”

  She shook her head. “I left it in the living room.”

  “I don’t know if we can trust her,” he whispered. “We’ll figure something out. I’ll find the phone after I search the place for clean rags and towels.” He pulled the comforter up to her chin . “Can I get you anything?”

  “An epidural?” She let out a short laugh. “Are you sure you can’t trust her? If she called Houston, he’d send help.”

  “I’m not convinced she’s on our side. If anything happened to you or the baby, I’d never for
give myself.”

  In the bathroom, Travis pulled several large towels and washcloths off the white wicker rack. From the medicine cabinet, he plucked a bottle of peroxide off the shelf from between a pack of matches and an old pair of glasses.

  “Everything okay in there?” Cindy called out.

  “Just seeing what’s in here. There’s not much to choose from.”

  He balanced the bottle of peroxide on the towels, carried the supplies to the bedroom, and set them on the chest of drawers.

  Cindy had propped herself up on the bed against a small stack of pillows. If he didn’t know better, he’d think she was getting ready to settle in for a relaxing evening … until she let out a series of controlled breaths.

  “I’ll get the First Aid kit from the car. I’ll be right back.” He hustled to the door.

  “Hurry!”

  In spite of the need to hurry, Travis stopped when he entered the living room.

  Everything looked perfectly normal. Had it not been for the streaks of Vinnie’s blood on the hardwood floors, he would have been hard pressed to find evidence of a struggle.

  Where could she have taken him? He pulled the curtains back and peered through the window. No one appeared to be lurking about, so he stepped outside. His foot sent something flying across the porch. He picked it up and held it to the light. Vinnie’s cell phone. That’s odd. He tucked the phone in his pocket, grabbed his keys, and pressed the fob to unlock the trunk.

  Travis lifted the trunk and stared at the darker blackness inside. The light was burned out. He swiped a hand to the left, searching blindly for the First Aid kit. His hands brushed against something moist and sticky.

  What in the world?

  He fumbled for the key fob, but couldn’t see which button unlocked the doors. As he stuck the key in the lock, an unwelcomed thought intruded. Prickles of fear spread like spiders crawling across his skin. With quick motions, he popped open the glove compartment and grabbed the flashlight, then ran back to the trunk. The dome light exposed red liquid on his hands. Blood? Where would …?