Blind Trust (11 page)

“Then let her come into hiding, too.”

“No,” he said. “It’s not necessary, because they don’t know. But if we tell her, if she even has a clue, someone might figure things out. There are too many wild cards in this thing. The closer she is to you, the more danger she could be in.”

Eventually, he had seen Grayson’s logic and agreed with it. Sherry was safe, if nothing else. But he hadn’t counted on it taking eight months for the case to get to court.

Chapter Eleven

S
herry’s face was white as she stared at Clint, taking it all in. “I would rather have been with you in danger than where I was and safe,” she said. “My father had no right to keep me in the dark, or to make that decision for me.” She wiped the tears on her face, and asked, “So what is this? The Federal Witness Protection Program or something?”

“That’s right. Your dad got the FBI involved since some of their activities had crossed state lines. Apparently Givanti’s drug connections were pretty far-reaching.”

She shook her head, trying to sort it all out. “But what made you come back when you did? You haven’t testified yet.”

“No, but the trial is taking forever, so there was no telling when they’d get me on the stand. And last week the police found Paul … dead. He was in an explosion in an abandoned factory.” He swallowed hard. “As much trouble as he’s caused me, I didn’t want him dead. I prayed for him every day, that he’d repent and find God, that something he heard all those times at church would penetrate. But I guess I didn’t have the impact I thought I had. I had no business in youth ministry, if I couldn’t get through to someone who needed Christ so much.”

“Clint, no one could get through to Paul if he was in that deep. It’s not a reflection on your ministry. Think how many kids
did
listen. How many lives you changed. They all grieved over you, right along with me.”

He blinked back the mist in his eyes and drew in a deep breath. “Anyway, I was convinced that he was the only one who knew where I was, and that I was out of danger, so I threatened not to testify if they didn’t let me go home. But I was wrong. Paul must have told someone. And now you’ve been threatened.”

She dropped to her knees on the ground and riveted her eyes on a blade of grass. “So who sent me that letter?”

“I don’t know.”

Sherry turned toward the wind and set her hand on her forehead. She was beginning to feel sick. Sick with the terror that Clint had faced for so long. Sick with the months of emptiness that shouldn’t have occurred. Sick with fatigue and hunger and a fear that was beginning to be chronic. “So what now?” she asked in a dull voice. “Does Dad intend to hide us out here forever?”

“No. Just until I testify.”

Fury rose, burning her throat. “And then what? Doesn’t he think they’ll get revenge? Doesn’t he know that they won’t let you just walk out of that courtroom, if they let you walk in in the first place?”

“Givanti wasn’t The Godfather, Sherry. He was just a greedy businessman who got in trouble with his gambling debts and figured this was an easy way to get himself in the black. His cohorts weren’t even that loyal to him, because they’ve made all kinds of deals with Eric in exchange for information on how they got the cocaine into the country and things like that. If I can get him put away, I really believe we’ll be safe.”

A gust of wind whipped Sherry’s hair into her face, and she slapped it away. “What about the note, Clint? What about the bomb at the place you were staying? Obviously he’s not going to sit still and let you do this!”

Clint didn’t answer. Instead, he looked at her as if the instances she’d named were small events he’d chosen to forget. Sherry wanted to scream. “I can’t believe my father would put you in this position. I can’t believe he’d use your life to buy a conviction!”

“He isn’t using me, Sherry,” Clint said. “He’s kept me alive when I couldn’t have myself.”

Her lips compressed into taut lines, full of contempt and despair. “And he made me think you just didn’t love me, that you got cold feet, that I wasn’t enough for you. All the time I was seeing guilt in his eyes when I thought it was sympathy. It just makes me sick!”

Clint’s expression was soft now, devoid of the bitterness she’d witnessed earlier.

“He did the best thing for you. If you’d known, you would have run after me. Everything would have started to look suspicious, and what Givanti and his men didn’t know, they would have figured out. I disappeared, and then Paul did, and then if you had, it wouldn’t have taken a genius—”

“That’s no excuse!” Sherry bellowed. “That’s absolutely no excuse for lying to me! Or putting your life in jeopardy. I’ll never forgive him for that!” She caught her breath on a sob and fought back tears. “Wes was right. He said our father didn’t care about us. It was true.”

Clint tore a weed out of the ground and looked down at it. “Sherry, I know it’s hard for you. But you’ll get past this confusion and you’ll see that neither your dad nor I had a choice. We did exactly what we had to do. We betrayed you, but you know that you would have done the same thing in our place.”

Sherry swung around, her hair lashing into her face with the force. “How do you know that?”

“Because you’re as strong as I am.”

Sherry threw up her hands, then let them fall heavily to her sides in helpless denial. “You and Madeline, you both think I’m some kind of rock. You both keep talking about how strong I am.” She tapped her chest. “Look at me, Clint. I’ve been shaking since you ran me down two days ago. I’m inside out. I’m numb. You call that strength?”

“You’re dealing with it, Sherry.”

“Dealing with it? If you think I’m dealing with anything you don’t know me very well. I’m tired of coping, Clint. I’m tired of trying to hold myself together by a thread. I feel like I’m hanging onto the side of a building, about to fall.”

Clint’s voice cut across the night and into Sherry’s heart. “I know the feeling.”

Sherry leaned toward him, her blue eyes wide and desperate, full of unshed tears. “Then let’s leave. Let’s just blow it all off and go somewhere else. You don’t have to go through with this. My father cannot make you risk your life.”

“I’m not doing this for your father. I’m doing it because it’s the right thing.”

“And what about me? I lose the one man I love because some stupid kid got into the wrong crowd? Does that make sense, Clint?” When he didn’t answer, she closed her eyes and tried to massage the pain from her temples. “Why did you have to go there, Clint? Why did you get involved with Paul? It was none of your business!”

“You liked him too, Sherry. We thought he was our friend. He needed guidance and help. How could I have known I was going at the wrong time?”

“The wrong time? That’s like saying Hiroshima was the wrong city. It changed our
lives,
Clint. It might have
cost
our lives, and it’s not over yet.” She took his face in her hands, and pleaded, “Don’t testify, Clint.”

“I have to.” His voice cracked, and she heard the catch in his breath.

“Not if you love me,” she said. “If you really love me, you won’t be a hero. You’ll give it up and let the professionals worry about it.”

Clint took her arms, and his eyebrows arched, emphasizing the new lines on his forehead that spoke of the hard life he’d been leading since he left her. “Baby, you know I love you. But I have to do this. Otherwise this whole eight months was a waste.”

“It’s a waste, anyway, Clint!” she shouted. “And it’s going to keep being a waste until you put an end to it.”

“There won’t be an end until I testify.”

“There won’t be an end until they
kill
you!” she shouted, shaking away from him. “And me too. If you loved me, you wouldn’t drag me through this. You’d see that there are other ways.”

“There isn’t another way, Sherry. If there was, don’t you think I’d have found it by now?”

She bit her lip and swallowed back a sob. “I can’t stand it. I’ve mourned for you once. I don’t want to do it again.”

“You won’t have to. All these men are watching over us, Sherry. And God is still in control.”

“Then why does it feel like I’m right in the center of chaos?” With that, she ran back into the house, to seek the only refuge she could find—sleep.

Chapter Twelve

T
he telephone rang twelve times before Laney gave up. “Sherry’s still not answering, Wes. It’s after midnight. Where could they be?”

“Maybe they just turned the ringer off,” Wes said, throwing a reassuring look at his wife. “Sherry was so dead set on avoiding Clint.”

Laney leaned back in the bed and brought her knees to her chest. “It just doesn’t feel right. I think we need to go over there and check on them.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” He sighed and got up. “Neither of us will be able to sleep until we’ve seen that they’re okay.”

Laney looked up at him. “Wes, shouldn’t you call your father first? See if he’s heard from Sherry? Ask him if she told him where she was going.”

Wes’s jaw popped as he shrugged on the shirt he’d left hanging over a chair. “I don’t have to call the U.S. attorney to find out where my sister is. There’s nothing wrong. She’s probably sleeping and forgot she left the phone unplugged.”

“I wasn’t suggesting him because he’s the prosecutor, Wes. I suggested him because he’s your father. She spends a lot of time with him. She might have told him something.”

“I’ll take my chances.”

“You won’t even call him?”

“No, I won’t.”

“Wes, don’t you think that’s a little stubborn? You should be putting your sister above your own pride!”

“Pride?” He swung around to his wife. “Are you kidding me? This doesn’t have anything to do with pride. I don’t even know that man, and I’m supposed to pretend that he’s a part of my family?”

Laney got up, her long white gown pooling around her feet. “Wes, he
is
part of your family. You can’t change that.”

“I don’t have to acknowledge it.” He grabbed his keys off of the dresser, and headed out of the bedroom.

W
es pulled into Sherry and Madeline’s driveway and saw that Madeline’s car was there. He relaxed somewhat, and told himself that the scenario he had envisioned was accurate. At least one of them was home—they just weren’t answering the phone.

Since it was so late, he started to drive on home, instead of waking them if they were asleep, but something compelled him to go in and talk to Sherry himself. If she’d been disturbed enough to unplug the phones, then maybe she could use her brother’s ear.

He trotted up the front steps to the door and rang the bell. There was no answer, so he knocked hard, and went to the living room window to peer in. There was one light on in the living room, but no evidence that anyone was home.

He went around to the side of the house and peered into Sherry’s bedroom window. A night-light cast a pale glow throughout the room, and he could see that the bed was still made. No one was there.

A prayer started to form in his mind as he hurried to the other bedroom and looked into Madeline’s room. Still no one.

Frantic now, he went to the back of the house and checked under the mat for the extra key. When it wasn’t there, he tried the storage room where he knew they kept another one. He took it and hurried back to the door to open it. The door opened easily, and he stepped inside.

“Sherry?” he called. “Madeline? Are you here?”

The silence screamed out at him. He closed the door behind him, locked it, then went through the house, searching each room. He saw a drawer open in Madeline’s room, and some of the clothes had dropped onto the floor, as if someone had hastily grabbed something out. He went back into the living room and saw a stack of mail tossed down, unopened, next to Madeline’s car keys.

He turned around slowly, trying to find some clue, anything, that would tell him where his sister may have gone. On the couch was an opened envelope, and next to it a paper lying face down. He picked it up.

In cut-out magazine letters, he read the words,
“Tell him revenge is sweet, and falls on those we love.’”

He took in a sharp breath as the first talons of fear gripped him. He grabbed the phone and started to dial 911, then changed his mind and called Laney instead.

“Hello?”

“Laney, there’s something wrong! They’re not here, but there’s a note. I need to call him-Eric. His number’s probably unlisted. Do you have it anywhere?”

“Yes,” Laney said. “I have it right here. But Wes, what did Sherry say in the note?”

“It wasn’t from Sherry. It was from someone else. Look, I’ll call you back as soon as I know something, okay?”

“Wes, please be careful!”

“I will.” He dropped the phone back in its cradle and said a quick prayer. What had happened to his sister? He dialed the number, and waited as it rang two, three, four times. Finally, his father answered in a raspy, groggy voice.

“Eric Grayson.”

His stomach tightened. “This is Wes Grayson,” he said coldly. “I’m looking for my sister. Do you know where she is?”

There was a slight hesitation, and finally, Eric said, “Wes, we need to talk.”

“Then you know where she is?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Well, say it! Do you or don’t you?”

“Wes, where are you?”

“In Sherry’s living room.” His lips were taut, and his words were clipped, angry. “I’m holding a note from some lunatic talking about revenge, and it’s obvious that something’s wrong.
Now do you know where she is or not?”

“Just wait there, Wes. I’ll be over in ten minutes.”

“I just want an answer!”
he shouted
. “Yes or no. Do you know or don’t you?”

But the phone clicked in his ear. Wes jammed it into its cradle. Where was she? And what was so important that Eric couldn’t tell him over the phone?