Eye of the Beholder (38 page)

“Anybody give him a hard time?”

“Not that I could tell. Most students tended to ignore him.”

“Anything else about him stand out?”

Stephen twisted the hairs on his beard. “Isaac was immensely private. And contemplative. I often wondered what he was thinking. Even on paper, he revealed little about himself, though I perceived him to be full of poetry waiting for expression. I’m sorry that I won’t get the chance to find out.”

Will jotted a few notes and looked again at the professor. “What can you tell me about Dary Fassih?”

“Dary wasn’t intuitive like Isaac, but he was a bright young man. Eager to learn. Outgoing. Good-looking. He tried to make friends, but his broken English caused him to gravitate toward the other Iranian students. I heard him speaking Farsi on a number of occasions.”

“Is that Iranian?” Will said.

“Persian. Farsi is the official language of Iran. Of course, I’m determined that all my students become proficient in the English language and don’t allow anything else spoken in my classroom. But with such a blend of Latin, Oriental, Iranian, and Israeli students, it’s a real challenge.”

“Guess there’s not much you can do about it.”

Stephen raised his eyebrows. “Sure there is. I try to pair each immigrant student with one who will force him to stretch.”

“That’s what you did with Isaac and Dary?”

“Yes. Both these boys seemed to be social outcasts, and Dary was struggling with the language. Isaac was American born and his English was fine. I thought perhaps these two would make good partners for class projects.”

“Weren’t you concerned about the strong religious differences?”

“Yes, but I thought they should get over that, too. These boys were both people pleasers. I knew they’d work it out.”

“And did they?”

“Very much so. Of course, neither wore it on his sleeve—heaven forbid that a Jew and a Muslim might actually get along. But the work they turned in together proved they were communicating well. And Dary’s English had improved considerably just in the few weeks since school started.”

Will looked into the professor’s eyes. “Who would want to hurt them?”

Stephen shook his head. “I wish I knew.”

“This is the only class they had together, Professor. I keep thinking there must be something here to link their murders.”

“I wish I could help you, but I’ve told you and the other investigator everything I know.”

Will reached in the manila envelope and pulled out the photograph of the two men getting out of the van minutes before the explosion. “I know these aren’t clear, but do you recognize these men?”

“Are they students?”

“I don’t know. But they and their VW bus were photographed outside the entrance to city hall minutes before the explosion.”

“What does this have to do with Dary and Isaac?”

Will handed him the photo of the crushed Mountain Dew can. “This was found in the rubble. The DNA from the saliva in the can matched the DNA found on Dary and Isaac’s bodies. Professor, this can was in the VW bus. One of these men either killed the boys or knows who did.”

The lines on the professor’s forehead deepened and he moved his eyes to the photograph of the two men and the van and seemed to be studying it.

“Is there something you want to tell me?” Will said.

“Uh, no. I just wanted a thorough look. I’m sorry I can’t help you.”

Will Seevers walked in the front door and into the dining room where Margaret and Meagan were already seated at the table. “I’m not as late as I thought I’d be.”

“I’m glad you got home before we were done. This isn’t as good reheated.” Margaret filled his plate and handed it to him.

Will cut a piece of baked chicken and put it in his mouth. “Mmm … this is good. I didn’t have time to eat lunch.”

“So what’s happening with the car bombings? Any suspects? Anyone claim responsibility? What did the FBI have to say?”

“I just got home, Margaret. I’d like to at least swallow my food before I start talking shop.” He glanced up and saw the hurt on her face. “Sorry, honey. Today’s been a zoo. I’ve barely had time to assimilate it.”

“Everybody at my school is freaking out,” Meagan said. “Our teacher showed us how they did bomb drills when she was in school back when everybody was scared of the Russians.”

“This is a very different kind of threat,” Will said. “No one is dropping bombs. In fact, we’re beginning to think the terrorists didn’t explode the car bombs.”

Margaret stopped chewing. “Has someone claimed responsibility?”

“No, but I had a meeting with the feds this afternoon, and we’re all thinking the same way.”

“Who else would do something like that?”

“That’s the question of the hour.”

“Can’t you at least
speculate
?”

He smiled. “No.”

“Gordy and Pam will be home tomorrow,” Margaret said.

“Yeah, I’m anxious to see them.”

Meagan reached for the rolls. “Maybe we should have them over for dinner this weekend so I can clean Uncle Gordy’s plow at dominoes.”

Will chuckled. “Clean his plow, huh? You’re starting to sound like him.”

“Daddy, my friends want to know if I’m scared of the terrorists. Is it okay to say I am? Or should I pretend I’m not because you’re the police chief and don’t want them to think you’re not doing your job?”

“Meagan!” Margaret said. “Of course, your father’s doing his job.”

“Will it get Daddy in trouble if I say I’m scared, too?”

Will’s cell phone vibrated. He heaved a loud sigh. “Sorry, I need to take this. Chief Seevers.”

“It’s Backus. Where are you?”

“At home having dinner.”

“Lucky you. I was leaving the station when I heard the call come in for all units to go to the courthouse. We’ve got some vocal college students threatening to go house to house in the Muslim neighborhood, looking for terrorists.”

Will looked at Margaret and rolled his eyes. “No one in his right mind would do that. They’re blowing smoke.”

“Probably so, but they’re creating quite a stir, and the media’s
eatin’ it up. The feds are preparing to make a statement. Might be good for you to be visible.”

Or take a long vacation
. “All right. Let me wash down my dinner. I’m on my way.”

Ellen Jones lay on the living room couch listening to an instrumental praise and worship tape, thinking about today’s experience at the cemetery and the futility of a person struggling through life without a relationship with God. It hadn’t been that long ago that she and Guy had clung to their atheism, firmly convinced that their life together was as good as it gets. Had she continued to put her faith in Guy’s ability to make her happy, the past few months would have been unbearable.

How much more difficult must it have been for Kinsey, having no one and grasping at anything to fill the void that only God was meant to fill?

Ellen closed her eyes and let the euphonic sound of the music fill her senses and calm her spirit.

Suddenly she was aware of a ringing noise and realized it was her cell phone. She hurried out to the kitchen, took it out of her purse, and pushed the talk button. “Hello.”

“Is this Ellen?”

“Yes. Who’s calling?”

“My name’s Tim Rayburn. I’m the pastor of Morgan Street Ministries near downtown Atlanta. I recently met a young woman, Kinsey Abbot. Do you know her?”

“Yes, why do you ask?”

“I spotted her in a coffee shop last Tuesday, and she looked despondent. I struck up a conversation with her, told her who I was, and one thing led to another. She told me she was in trouble and didn’t have anywhere to turn. She showed me a tract you
had given her and asked me to explain how a loving God could send people to hell.”

“Oh, dear. What did you say?”

“I told her she was looking at it backwards, that God gave us the only way to
avoid
hell. That got her attention.”

Ellen’s heart raced. “Please, tell me everything that was said! I have an important reason for wanting to know.”

“I reiterated what was in the tract—that we’re all sinners and the penalty of sin is death, that Jesus’ death on the cross paid that penalty for us because we were helpless to do it. And for everyone who receives Jesus, our Father in heaven looks at us as if we had never sinned. Kinsey teared up. I sensed she was hanging on to every word.”

“I’m surprised she didn’t cut you off.”

“Frankly, so was I. I went on to tell her that Jesus’ resurrection validates His divinity, that He’s both the Giver
and
the Gift. And because of that, she can have the assurance of heaven and a relationship with God here and now.”

“She listened to all that?”

“Yes. She asked me what the catch was. I told her salvation was a free gift—that all she had to do is open her heart to Jesus, confess her sins, and start living by the principles in the Bible.”

Ellen closed her eyes. “How did she react?”

“Praise God, she let me pray with her right there to trust Jesus as her Savior! That’s why I called you. I still have the tract, and your first name and phone number were on it. I think the Lord would like you to know you made an impact on her eternal life.”

Ellen tried to swallow the emotion, tears running down her cheeks.

“Ma’am, are you there?”

“Uh, yes, pastor … Give me a minute.”

“Why don’t you call me Tim?”

Ellen breathed in deeply and let it out slowly. “You should know Kinsey died last Thursday.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“No, it’s okay.” Ellen dabbed her eyes. “My husband and I attended her burial today in Tallahassee. We thought she had died an unbeliever. This is astounding.”

“May I ask how she died?”

Ellen told Tim what she knew about Kinsey’s life and death, and also about her grandfather’s peculiar behavior at the cemetery. “I can hardly wait to tell my husband. I’m sure you realize Kinsey wasn’t in that coffee shop by chance, nor did she come here by chance. These were divine appointments.”

There were a few moments of dead air.

“You know what thrills me to the core, Ellen? Every soul matters to God. Even if nobody on earth besides you and your husband and I gave a hoot about Kinsey Abbot, the Lord and His angels rejoiced over her last Tuesday afternoon.”

Guy Jones lay on the couch in his new apartment, wondering if Kinsey’s grandfather had given her a second thought after he walked away from the cemetery. He picked up his cell phone and dialed home.

“Hello.”

“Hi, honey. Did you make it home without any problems?”

“Uh-huh,” Ellen said. “The time went fast. Gave me time to think.”

“You sound like you’ve been crying. Are you upset about Kinsey?”

“Actually, the most wonderful thing happened a little while ago, and I’ve been praising God ever since.”

Guy listened as Ellen told him the details of her phone conversation with Tim Rayburn.

“I started to call you,” Ellen said, “but I just needed to be alone with the joy for a while. I can hardly believe it. Kinsey accepted Christ!”

“It would never have happened if you hadn’t given her the tract.”

“You don’t know that. God could’ve used Tim regardless. But what a gift it is having the assurance she’s with the Lord.”

Guy couldn’t find words to express what he was feeling. Ellen’s last words to Kinsey came rushing back to him.

“I’ll be praying for you every day, honey. Don’t despair. Your Father in heaven won’t take His eyes off you—not for a moment.”

“Guy, are you there?”

“Yeah, I was just thinking back on what you said to Kinsey when we were out at the lighthouse.” He blinked the stinging from his eyes. “Can you imagine what it must’ve been like for her to experience a Father’s love for the first time?”

 38
 

L
ate Tuesday afternoon, Will Seevers elbowed his way through a mob of reporters and went in the side door of the police station. He waited until Al Backus was inside, then shut the door, reporters still shouting questions at them.

“Give me a few minutes,” Will said. “Then come down to my office and let’s put our heads together and evaluate where we are.”

Will went down to the lounge and got a cup of coffee, then went into his office and flipped the light switch.