Page 52 of Facing the Enemy

“Dad’s always been amazing. He took me fishing and hunting. Told me how proud he was of me. Taught me how to play basketball and how to use what he taught me in real life. We read books together. He treats my mom like she was the most important person in the world. When Mom and Dad told me about the baby, he cried, said I was his number one son no matter if Mom had a dozen more kids.” Carson frowned. “Then everything changed. It was all an act to cover up whatever he’s doing.”

“Are you sure? With what you’ve told me, he sounds like a good man.”

“Bad guys can treat their families okay.”

“Gage and other law enforcement will figure this out and learn the truth.”

“They have to. And soon.”

“How does your dad treat the baby?”

“Great. Changes diapers and gets up in the night with him. Mom really loves Dad. All this will hurt her.”

“Like you’re hurting now?”

Carson swiped beneath his eyes. “I’d give anything for the nightmare to go away. I feel so da—” He trembled. “I don’t need to be swearing. Where is God in the middle of murders and threats?”

I wished I had a solid answer for him when I questioned that very thing. “I question God too. He’s not a genie we can summon whenwe want Him to grant our wishes. The Bible tells us He’s near the brokenhearted. In my grief, I built a wall between God and me. That never works.”

“Is trusting God harder when you’re in law enforcement? I mean, you had training and carry a gun.”

“We’re also in dangerous situations, walk into firefights to protect others, and stop crimes. I trust Him to have my back. Gage feels the same way.”

“Bad things happen to good people,” Carson said with far too much cynicism.

“True, and it will continue. Let me ask you this ... Who is best suited to model a relationship with Jesus, a believer or an unbeliever?”

“I get it. Ever shoot a bad guy?”

“Yes. And I remember every one and wish there’d been another way.”

“How many agents are believers?”

I studied the young man before me. He had so much of life ahead of him. “Carson, everyone believes in something, but we may not have a name for it.”

He pushed to his feet. “I’m confused. Everything around me is broken. See you in a few hours.”

The door closed behind Carson, and my words to him about God being near the brokenhearted whispered around me.

I’ve been with you all along.

I shuddered. Had God not left me alone? He’d directed me to protect my loved ones, to teach again, to find Carson. I’d been so blinded by grief and anger at God to see He walked with me all along.

God, forgive me for doubting You.The liturgy of proper words failed to surface. Yet God never asked for fancy prayers and ceremony, neither did He expect perfection. God wanted my heart wholly devoted to Him—not most of it that I parceled out in scraps.

My step toward reconciliation with God hadn’t stopped the raging fear for those I treasured.

28

Carson and I left the hotel at five thirty in the morning before the sun chose to usher in a new day. Gage drove the Jeep and left earlier. If anyone had been following Carson, they’d deal with Gage. I assumed my charge would sleep until he was ready to face what lay ahead in Houston.

Carson and I would have plenty of miles to talk, but I’d avoid bringing up the case too soon. Last night, we’d bonded as friends who had questions about life and where our faith fit amid chaos and tragedy. I wanted to believe in his testimony and hoped he’d reacted to witnessing a murder like a confused kid. But I’d seen plenty of professional liars who’d manipulated others. I’d try to keep our conversation pleasant. But I’d be tracking down evidence that proved his innocence one way or the other.

The majestic copper-and-gray cliffs of the Big Bend were in our rearview mirror, and ahead lay the flatlands of Texas. Even with stops along the way, it would be dark before we arrived in Houston. Carson and I rode in silence, which gave me miles to process what Gage and I had gathered. The huge question plaguing me was my connection to Ethan Mercury ... like a broken record, pushing the listener into a frustrated zone.

“Christmas sucks this year,” Carson finally said.

“We’ve both had more memorable holidays. Did you register for next semester’s classes?”