Chapter 15 #2
I want to fight for myself. I want to be better. To find at least some semblance of the man I was before. But I fear he died back in that pit and the rest of me was just too rotten to go with him.
“It doesn’t feel like a gift, Pastor. It feels like a curse. A weight around my ankles. I’m living half a life. Watching my brothers start their own families while knowing I could never have that. Lani will eventually settle down too, and then I’ll be alone. It’s torture.”
“There is not a thing God can’t do, Dylan.
Saying you’ll never have that just because you’re struggling now is like saying it’ll never rain again in the middle of a drought.
You have to choose to face what happened and move through it with God.
He can bring you through it, just as He brought you from that cave. ”
I can’t speak, my throat tight as I fight to hold back tears.
“God didn’t hand David a crown to make him king,” he says softly. “He sent him Goliath. He didn’t keep Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego from going into the furnace, but He remained with them in the flames. God doesn’t promise we won’t face trials, but we are never going through them alone, Dylan.”
I clutch my fists together and rest my forehead on them.
“One day, when you’re on the other side of this, you’ll have a wonderous testimony to share. Of the suffering you went through and how God brought you through it. Don’t you see how you can reach those who are struggling with the same questions? God can use each and every one of us for His Kingdom.”
“I’m not nearly clean enough to be used, Pastor. If you knew what I’d seen—what I lived through—”
He gets up and comes to sit beside me. Far away enough that the panic doesn’t begin, but closer than he’s sat to me since I got home over a decade ago.
“Dylan,” he says softly. “Jesus didn’t die only for those who come to Him dressed in their Sunday best. He died for the addict, the murderer, the gossip, the liar, the adulterer—everyone.
He was sent here for us. So that we could be made clean when we stand before God.
We only need to repent and follow Him. Even when that path gets impossible to walk, we do as Job did and lean on Him through all of it. ”
“I don’t even know where to start,” I whisper, feeling a breath of hope as I sit here in the pew. Is it possible that I can find relief? Is it possible that some day, I’ll wake up and not wish I was six feet in the ground?
“You start with God’s Word. And a lot of prayer. Friday is Good because Sunday is coming,” he adds. “Just because today is dark doesn’t mean tomorrow will be too. Your story isn’t done, Dylan. Put your faith in Him, and fight against the darkness trying to steal you away from the light.”
“Hey, where you been?” Tucker questions as soon as I step into the barn we remodeled and repurposed to serve as the office for Hunt Brothers Search & Rescue.
After speaking to Pastor Ford, I went for a run near the creek, using the silence to talk to God.
While I don’t have any answers, I can admit that I feel a bit lighter.
And that’s something.
“Around.” I cross my arms. “What was so urgent?”
Bradyn is leaning back against the wall, his arms crossed, his expression stern. Riley is popping bubble gum—a habit he partakes in whenever things get a tad stressful. Elliot’s hat is backward as usual, his mouth flattened into a tight line.
Then there’s Tucker. Who’s currently looking at me like I’m a bomb about to go off.
They only see a monster. That voice echoes through my mind, sending a wave of fresh anger through me. How am I supposed to change if the ones around me only ever see me one way?
“Can someone fill me in here?” I demand. “Or are we just going to sit around staring at each other?”
Tucker sighs and turns his laptop around to face me.
I lean in, noting a photograph of Emma’s birth mother, smiling, beside an image of the boutique owner who’d shown me where to hide in that fitting room.
“Local Woman and Boutique Business Owner Murdered in Robbery, Then Assailant Burned Boutique to the Ground.” Clenching my hands into fists, I stare down at the headline, reading it four different times, hoping to see a different outcome each time.
Did Gio have his own wife and an innocent woman murdered?
Or was this Heath Slater? Retaliation for Emma’s escape?
Emma. How do I tell Emma that another one of her parents is dead? I know she told us last night that she sees Felicity as a kind stranger who helped her, but I know her well enough to know that’s not entirely true. It’s going to break her heart.
“Does she know?”
“No.” Bradyn runs a hand over the back of his neck. “We wanted to make you aware first.”
“I’ll tell her.”
“Dylan, I can—”
“No,” I interrupt Tucker. “I will tell her.” I cross my arms. “What’s our next move?”
“What do you mean ‘our next move’?” Riley asks. “We did our job. We searched, we rescued. Emma is here and safe.”
“But for how long? Karver or Slater could come for her at any moment. Given Karver is clearly not above murdering family members, what’s going to stop him from simply deciding she’s not worth the trouble and taking her out?”
“This.” Tucker turns the computer back around, clicks some keys on the keyboard in rapid succession, then turns it to face me again. “We believe it’s a text thread between Felicity and a woman named Harlow Slater. Heath Slater’s mother.”
Felicity: When will the flowers be delivered?
Harlow: January first. Black roses are preferred. Though if you go with white roses, those have better longevity. Ranunculus is always an option.
Felicity: They’re too fragile. Black roses are what fit better at this point. We’re past the white roses, don’t you think?
Harlow: I don’t want to agree.
Felicity: I know, my friend, but I know flowers, and they’re the only legitimate option.
“How did you get this?”
“The number she called Bradyn from was a burner. But I was able to hack into it and make a copy of the data on it. I’m guessing they didn’t find the phone when they took her.”
“Okay, but what does this mean? Black roses? White roses? Are you thinking wedding?”
“We’re thinking bigger than that,” Elliot says. “Black roses used to be sent as an omen of death by those who ordered hits on large crime families. White roses are a symbol of purity, and it could also mean—”
“Surrender,” I reply. “A white flag.”
“Yes, when compared to the black roses. We believe that they were trying to speak in code just in case the messages were intercepted.”
“Ranunculus is one of the most popular wedding flowers,” Riley explains. When my brothers turn to him, he simply shrugs. “Read a book once in a while.”
I study the message, trying to restructure the conversation between the lines. “So death was headed her way unless she surrendered to the wedding.”
“That’s what we think.”
“Emma’s marriage to Heath Slater.” Just saying the words makes my stomach churn. “Does it say anything else about that boutique owner?” I question. “About how she was killed?”
“You’re thinking torture.” Elliot shakes his head. “Knowing what we do, I wouldn’t put it past Gio to carry that out. But how’s he hiding it? Surely someone saw something.”
“How does one control anyone? Money and the threat of violence. Both of which Gio has in spades. Is Harlow still alive?” I step back from the computer.
All of my brothers exchange looks with each other.
It’s one I know well—they agree on something I don’t.
More than likely, they think going after Gio Karver is the wrong answer.
But from where I’m standing, it looks like the only chance we have at ensuring Emma gets to live a life without constantly looking over her shoulder.
“We need to let the feds take this one,” Bradyn says. “We spoke to Frank, and he said he’d get with his contacts.”
“All you’ll do is tip Gio and Heath off. Do you really think neither of them has dirty cops on their payroll? And if it gets traced back that we’ve been snooping, they’ll figure out she’s here.”
“Dylan, we’re not cops. We’re not even military anymore.”
“And has that stopped us before?” I demand, turning to Tucker. “You went on the run with a wanted fugitive when Alice was being framed. And you”—I turn to Elliot—“hid vital information from the police because you were afraid it would implicate Nova.”
“This is a crime family the feds have been after for decades,” Bradyn reminds me. “If they haven’t been successful, what makes you think we can find something to pin on him?”
I clench my hands into fists. “Because, for me, this is personal. He went after Emma. Grabbed her from her house with the intent to traffic her to another crime family in exchange for who knows what. They came into our house. Pine Creek. How does that not bother you?”
“Dylan’s right,” Elliot says. “And you all know he is. If we stand a chance at finding the truth, then we need to do it.”
“Who knows what resources Gio has.” Bradyn clenches his jaw. “This could be a suicide mission for all of us if we press too hard.”
“Then don’t. I can do it alone.” I turn to leave, but Riley steps in my path.
“You’re not alone, Dylan. But we have to be smart about it. This guy isn’t playing by anyone’s rules but his own. We have no idea why Gio made the agreement to exchange Emma, or why there’s a deadline on it.”
“Then we talk to Harlow. Because she does. And after what happened to her friend, I imagine she’s pretty terrified.”