Silent Protector (17 page)

L
andfall, Liz noted as she stepped onto the beach. Already-wild waves slapped fiercely at the thin ribbon of sand. The small sand knoll by the creek was being pounded on one side, while churning waves and beachfront were building the other side up.

The small knoll wouldn’t last. Even Liz could see this. The hurricane’s east side would carry the brunt of the rain and wind, destroying whatever lay in its path.

Liz felt herself buffeted about and grabbed Ian for support. He held her tightly as he scanned the beach. Warm rain lashed at both of them. “Auntie Liz!”

The words, weak and scared, made Ian clutch Liz hard to stop her from rushing forward. Ahead, near the rise where the creek battled the surging waters, Leo and Charlie wavered to keep their balance.

“Charlie!” Liz wrenched herself free and raced toward them, stumbling in the soft sand of the deteriorating knoll and falling into the pooling mix of creek and gulf waters.

Ian galloped up beside her. When he met her, he shoved her back away from Leo, who still clung to Charlie. At
the same time, he aimed his gun at Leo’s head. “Keep back, Liz,” he called out. “He could hurt either you or Charlie.”

Leo pulled Charlie in front of him, at the same time pressing the gun into the child’s temple. The boy froze with fear, his eyes wide, his wet T-shirt fluttering in the increased wind. He looked terrified. Leo tossed back his wet hair with a flick of his head, but the black strands lashed back against his face.

Liz dared a fast look up at the sky. A long band of dark cloud stretched over them, closer then before, heavy with unshed rain. The waves were choppier than she’d seen them in a long time.

Hurricane Sandy was here.

She stared hard at Leo. “Let him go, Leo. He’s just a child. What did he do to you?”

“It’s what he’s going to do for me! This isn’t personal. This is about needing money. I’ve been stuck on this island barely making ends meet for years. I was laid off when the economy collapsed. I swore I’d do anything to get out of this life.”

“He’s a child. How can he get you out of this life?”

Leo glared at them. “You’re not going to get me to say anything more, all right? Monica kept nagging me on that, until I couldn’t stand it anymore. She was worse than my wife.”

“So you plan to kill us all, and you think you’ll get off scot-free?” Ian asked.

“Shut up!” Leo waved the gun around, and Liz’s heart tightened in cold, hard waves as she watched Charlie cringe and duck. He kept looking down to his left, then over the hill to where Liz was, kneeling in the sloppy sand.

Then back down to his left again.

Liz couldn’t see what he was looking at, not from her position, and she didn’t care. All she wanted was to get Charlie out of Leo’s evil clutches.

She couldn’t stand it anymore. No way would she allow anyone to hurt Charlie ever again. He’d had too much pain in his life. With a growl, she leaped up and yanked Charlie away from Leo’s grasp at the very second that the man tried to shove his wet hair out of his eyes.

Charlie was flung forward into her arms, and she swept the boy behind her. She knew she would pay for this insane act of bravery with a bullet, but Charlie would be away from Leo’s grasp. If anything happened to her, Ian would care for her nephew and be a very good father to him. She knew that now.

Leo bellowed at her, but Liz ignored him. She found herself staring down at where Charlie had been standing.

Monica was lying there. Even in the rain, Liz could see that the woman was bleeding heavily.

Ian couldn’t believe Liz did what he’d just witnessed. She was lightning fast, as fast as a hungry water moccasin striking its prey.

Neither he nor Leo could stop her. After she flung Charlie behind her, Ian reached up, grabbed both of them and shoved them down. Even then, her head popped back up, and she gasped.

And with good reason, he could see. Monica lay there.

Another piece of the puzzle clicked into place, but he still couldn’t see the whole picture.

In that moment, as Ian tried to understand what was happening, Leo wrapped his fingers around Monica’s upper
arm and hauled her limp body up to his thigh. He crouched slightly behind her. She dangled there, her face wrinkling in pain, as Leo shoved the gun to her head.

“You shot her?” Ian heard Liz cry out to Leo.

“And I’ll kill her this time, if you don’t cooperate.” He looked at Ian. “Drop your gun, Ian.”

Ian slowly set his handgun down onto the wet sand. His hat bumped in the wind but stayed plastered to his head.

“Good,” Leo yelled back. The gale force winds buffeted him so hard that he had trouble staying crouched. Around them, the salty spray and heavy surf pounded them, and one wild wave surged farther than the rest, almost reaching Ian’s handgun as it lay in front of him. Ian looked at it, then up to Leo’s hardened features.

Leo wanted to kick it into the water, Ian could tell. But he didn’t dare move away from Monica. Ian saw her free arm move, her hand grapple at the wet sand beside her. Her expression said so much. Pain, worry and when her eyes fluttered open, they met his.

Regret, too.

Monica scooped up a thick handful of sand and then swung her arm forward in a wide arc.

She flung the sand up at Leo.

Carried by the wind, the sand hit him square in the face, filling eyes and nose and open, snarling mouth. Leo staggered backward, coughing and spitting and growling harshly. With his free hand, he swiped at his eyes wildly.

A flash burst from the end of the gun he held, its loud report ringing all around them. Ian felt the searing impact in his left shoulder, but regardless, he sprang forward, his palms snagging the gun in Leo’s grip and shoving it skyward. His arm stung with incredible pain.

A gust of strong, hot wind, bringing with it a torrent of stinging, salty rain, blew up at that moment, and both
men staggered under the onslaught. With the wind helping him, Ian grabbed the gun and turned it on Leo, but the angry man flung himself forward, blinded by the sand as he rammed into the short barrel. He grabbed Ian’s right hand, trying to wrench free the gun.

Ian squeezed the trigger, half by his own conscious effort and half by the man’s furious grasp around the gun. Leo was tossed back to land beside Liz. He didn’t move—only the look on his face turned from rage to shock, then sagged into nothing.

Ian, in horror, tossed away the gun. He wrapped his arms around Liz after she scrambled up to him, ignoring all the pain that came with her grabbing him firmly.

It didn’t match the pain inside of him.
Lord, what have I done?

He knew, as God knew. He’d been so convinced that he could do his job well, without the Lord, and God had allowed him enough rope to hang—

He’d sunk back into the way he was before he’d given his life to God—arrogant, prideful. And he’d killed a man.

He’d given his life to God, given up the duties that sometimes put him in positions of aggression, and with his own impudence, he’d slipped right back there again.

“Forgive me,” he whispered into Liz’s ear.

She set him back. “For what?”

“For being arrogant, thinking I could do this all by myself, without God’s help. And now, I’ve killed a man. That’s not why I came to Spring Island.”

She shook her head and swept rainwater off his face. It was a useless effort, but he wouldn’t have traded the gentle caress for anything. “You came to help people. God knew where this was going to lead, but He also knew it led you back to Him. He saved you, and you saved a lot of people, including Charlie and me and a whole village.”

“Charlie!” Ian spun around, cringing and gasping in pain. Where was the boy? Did he have to witness another gruesome crime? If he wanted to be a part of the boy’s life from now on, how would Charlie witnessing another murder affect that?

Liz rose and called out the boy’s name.

A moment of fighting the wind and rain rolled slowly past. Then Charlie appeared at the edge of the forest. Spotting Liz, he stumbled over to her.

“Where did you go?” she asked him.

“I ran away. I know I wasn’t supposed to do that, but I got scared. I don’t like Stephen’s dad. He tried to grab me in the clinic, but Elsie came in and he stopped.”

“Did Elsie see that?”

“No. He stopped when she started to call me. He made me hit my head when I was escapin’ him.” He looked at the prone man beside them. “What happened to him?”

“He’s dead, and he’s not going to hurt you, ever.” Liz stroked his short, bristly hair. Ian smiled. At some point, he’d lost his glasses. He was glad. They looked terrible on him.

Charlie buried his head into Liz’s waist, just as she looked over at Ian. His heart hitched up at her smile.

Her beautiful, patient smile. “Thank you. We couldn’t have made it through all of this without you—and God’s help.”

“With God’s help,” he added.

“I’ve learned so much,” she answered. “I was so scared I would fail Charlie, that I wasn’t trusting that God would use me and my own strengths. Not until Charlie went missing and not fully until now, when I jumped up at Leo. I was trying to subdue him like I was taught to subdue eagles, but I don’t think I did it right.” Her voice hitched. “But you’re injured.”

“It’s okay, Auntie Liz.” Charlie scrambled over to Ian. “I know what to do.”

Liz shook her head. “No, honey, we’re here to take care of you. No one is going to hurt you.”

“I know that. I’ve been praying like I was taught in Vacation Bible School. Ian said God will take care of me if I love His Son, Jesus.” The boy looked earnestly at Ian. “We’ve got to pray, you know. Like you said, too, on Sunday morning, Ian. Do you remember that?”

Ian frowned. To be honest, he had no recollection of what he’d told the kids or what he’d preached this past Sunday. But then he remembered. Yes, he’d told them all last Sunday, while giving his message, that praying was absolutely the most important thing a Christian can do. A person didn’t get to heaven by praying, but it reflected a soul saying that it needed Jesus. That it couldn’t be arrogant like he’d been.

Charlie’s eyes were tightly closed, his face scrunched up tightly and his hands steepled together so hard his little knuckles were white. “God, you gotta help us here, cuz we don’t want anyone to die yet. Make Monica okay, and get Pastor Ian to fix his gunshot wound. Make it better than you did for Dad, okay?”

Charlie’s eyes popped open. Then he slammed them shut again. “Amen!” Opening them a second time, he grinned brightly despite the rain. “God heard me, even though it’s windy. He knows you two are too busy to pray.”

Ian couldn’t speak. So much was racing through him, more than just the pain in his shoulder.

“Now that we’ve prayed, I know what else to do,” Charlie added.

Ian peered down at him. The boy was peeling off his wet T-shirt. Through the fog of pain, he rasped out, “What are you doing?”

“Dad let me go to a Cub Scout camp last summer. I learned first aid.” A shadow passed over his face. “But I did all I was taught when Dad was shot. It didn’t work, though.”

Liz crawled around to the windward side to block the rain and wind. “You helped your dad after he was shot?”

“I was with him when he died. Two men came in to my bedroom while Dad was saying good-night. That’s when I saw him get shot. At first I hid under the blankets, then I helped Dad. I called the police on Dad’s cell phone. Then they started shooting each other.”

“Two men?” Ian held his breath. The boy was there when his dad was murdered. For some time, he’d actually begun to wonder if the boy had seen anything at all.
But he had.
He had seen Smith
and
another man. Leo must have gleaned that fact, maybe suggesting it to Sabby.

Sabby had reportedly been seen in the States. Ian sucked in his breath.

Smith and Jerry Troop had been implicated in the attempted assassination of that Guatemalan politician who had the power to destroy the cartels in his country. And they weren’t alone in that assassination attempt. Or else because it had failed and Smith was told to eliminate Jerry. This mess could bring down a whole cartel if Jerry or Smith talked. The only solution would be to kill both of them. Had Sabby come to the States to do that, and had Charlie thwarted his plans?

And yet, hot on the theory of what might have finally happened was something more imperative.

The boy had prayed. Charlie had prayed for safety, when his pastor hadn’t. He had trusted God for help, when Ian was trying to do it all by himself.

“‘Whosoever shall not receive the kingdom of God as a little child, he shall not enter therein,’” he quoted softly
from the Bible, knowing the words would be carried away by the wind. “Jesus told the disciples not to keep the children away, because we can learn from their complete faith.” He cleared his throat and dropped to his knees.

Lord, what have I been doing? I’ve been doing it all, without You. Forgive me, Lord, for forgetting You.

He blew out a lungful of air at his major screwup.
How could this have happened?

Because he’d slipped back into his old role of marshal, returned to a time when he’d foolishly thought he didn’t need God. Because he’d wanted to return to the excitement of being a U.S. Marshal.

He had forgotten all the peace he’d received after putting everything in God’s hands.

Lord, I need You. I’m sorry for thinking I could do everything without You.

He looked up, finding he was being watched by both Liz and Charlie. Then the agony returned, sharply, as Charlie wrapped his T-shirt over Ian’s shoulder to tie off at the back. Ian seethed with the fiery pain as Liz tightened his knot. He blinked and met Liz’s contrite expression.

She bit her lip. “Charlie, did you see who was in your apartment?”

Charlie nodded, moving around to Ian’s back and focusing on his handiwork with deep concentration. “Both of them. One was that guy on Ian’s cell phone. The other had a funny name.”

“Never mind!” Ian snapped. “We don’t need to talk about any of this right now.”