And Then Came A Lion (Lions and Lambs Book 1) (5 page)

She watched several men casting lines a little further down the shore. Another man stepped from the timber and strolled up the beach. He must be out for an early morning walk, as he didn’t carry any fishing gear.

As he drew nearer the camp, her heart once again chose to stop beating. It was the pedophile from the first failed kidnapping. He stopped. Glanced in several directions and stepped toward her. Buddy rose, growling, the hair on his back raised.

The man looked at him, then back to her. He seemed to hesitate. Behind him, Susannah saw Mark coming up the beach with several fish. The pedophile followed her gaze, turned, and went on down the beach.

What was that all about? Had he come here looking for children? Her mouth went dry. Surely, he hadn’t followed her. How could he? It had to be some awful coincidence.

Mark set the fish on the table. “What’s wrong?”

“That man?”

“The one standing close to camp? What was that all about?”

“That was the pedophile that tried to kidnap the girl, Megan, at the park.”

“He’s here?”

Susannah nodded.

Mark pulled out his cell phone and cursed. “No signal. Get in the car.”

“Why?”

“We’re going to call the police.”

The nearest phone was a ten miles back at the Indian Creek store.

An hour later, a single deputy responded to the report. Susannah thought the circumstances would call for more manpower, but the deputy explained he was the only officer available.

That was only one of several disappointments. A thorough search of the campground netted only a few bears and a couple of noisy drunks, no known felons. The man had once again slipped away.

              ***

Rachel handed Susannah her mug, already filled with coffee. “So, how was the weekend?”

“Well for starters, Mark and I are still married.”

“That’s a good start.”

“The other part, I saw that pedophile at the lake.”

“You’re kidding.”

Susannah shook her head. “I wish I were. We reported it to the sheriff’s office but by the time the officer did a search, he was gone.”

“That’s really creepy. He couldn’t be following you, could he?”

“I don’t see how. He doesn’t know who I am or where I live, I don’t think.”

“I can’t imagine how he would. Still, that’s pretty creepy. What does Mark want to do?”

“Well, since we filed the report, if I see the man again, I’ll call again and maybe they’ll catch him before he disappears. In the meantime, I need to be careful about where I go alone.”

Rachel rubbed her arms. “That’s so scary. Hopefully, he’s long gone now.”

“Hopefully.”

“But at least it sounds like you and Mark have resolved your issues? It sounds like it was pretty romantic time, in spite of the bad guy showing up.”

“It was. So, I’ll just focus on that and try to ignore the other.”

There was always something to ignore, wasn’t there?

***

Buddy shoved Susannah’s leg with his nose.

“What is it Buddy?”

He licked his lips.

She looked at the clock. “Oh my, I forgot to feed you breakfast. I’m such a bad mom.”

He licked her hand, winked, and wriggled his stumpy tail. At least he was the forgiving sort.

She fed him and glanced back at the clock, still a half hour before she had to shower and dress. Enough time for another cup of coffee. Hump Day, only two more days, and then the weekend. She planned to do nothing but putter, take long naps, and try not to wonder if the pedophile was lurking in the brush along the trail or in the timber in the park ― waiting.

After draining her coffee, she hurried upstairs, showered, dressed, and drove into work. Rachel wasn’t at her desk, which meant she was already in the breakroom making coffee. Susannah stored her purse and lunch in her drawer and walked down the hallway toward the breakroom. Aaron’s office was still dark. Good for him. He’d been working too many long hours recently.

Rachel was leaning back against the break room counter, coffee still dripping into the carafe.

“Good morning. Any word on that creep?”

Susannah pulled two mugs down from the upper cabinet. “None. But, there haven’t been any more kidnappings either, so Mark might be right. Maybe he’s moved on. That would be good, except for the children.”

She checked the coffee. It had stopped brewing. She poured coffee into both mugs, handing one to Rachel.

She stirred in creamer into hers and sipped. “Oh that’s good.”

Rachel asked. “So, you’re doing okay”

“Well, I’m jumping at shadows, thinking he’s lurking in the brush along the trail, or hiding in the timber around the park. Last night I swore I saw him on the back deck, but Buddy didn’t act like anything was out there.” Susannah shrugged. “I guess my nerves are frazzled. Sure looking for a quiet weekend.”

“I guess.”

“I wonder if it is just nerves or if I’m going nuts.”

“I’d go with the nerves.” Rachel said, and then added, “I’d be scared out of my mind to see someone like him staring at me. It was a good thing you had Buddy with you.”

“Yeah, bless his heart. He might not be the biggest dog, but he sure can look ferocious.”

***

Brian stared at the peeling ceiling. At least it wasn’t raining. From what he could see, he’d be drenched before morning. He should have dealt with the dog and grabbed the woman. But, it would have been messy with the husband so close. Yet, had he taken care of her, he wouldn’t have had to dodge another police search. With only one deputy, it wasn’t too tough, but missed opportunities rarely repeated. He’d just have to make his own luck.

That might include whatever Charlie was doing. Evidently, he was doing something unbelievably lucrative. Perhaps he’d take Charlie up on his offer to check it out, next week, after he finished his business with the witch. No way would he just walk away and leave her unscathed.

He sat up. Of course, she had to be one of those psychics he’d read about in the paper, the ones that were always helping the cops solve crimes. That had to explain how she showed up where she wasn’t wanted. With some thought and planning, he could turn that to his advantage.

He lay back down, but sleep proved elusive. Ideas and images swirled around and around, each one vying for top billing in his carefully crafted scenarios of revenge and retribution.

***

Palm Sunday, Susannah sat in the breakfast nook with fresh brewed coffee. She should be getting ready for church, but these precious moments of solitude were hard to give up. Sunlight poured through the large windows and the usual chorus of birds sang from the large shade trees. A few cottontails nibbled on the lawn. Geese and ducks flew overhead.

Weekday mornings were a stressful dash for the door. It didn’t matter how early she set the alarm, the comedy routine of disasters began the moment her feet hit the floor. Errands and chores filled Saturdays, leaving only Sunday morning for lingering over coffee, gazing out the window. She could just read the Passion, say a few prayers, and call it good.

She turned to the familiar scripture, and read the betrayal, the scourging, and the crucifixion. As if a dark veil lifted, she understood, with her heart instead of her mind. Jesus did not die for some faceless mankind. He died for her
,
in her place, atoning for all of
her
sins. He died for her anger, her hatred, her selfishness. She laid her head on the table and wept.

Tears slowed to sniffles. She wiped her eyes with the palms of her hands. Church, she
had
to go even if it meant crawling all the way on her hands and knees.

She ran upstairs to the bedroom, flung open the closet door, and grabbed the closest pair of pants and a blouse.

Mark sat up, still bleary eyed with sleep. “What’s going on?”

“I’m going to church.”

“Now?”

“Yes.”

“Well, hang on. I’ll go with you.”

“You’ll take too long to get ready. I can’t wait!”

Mark slid from bed and disappeared into the bathroom. Susannah grabbed her shoes and headed toward the door.

He reappeared, fully dressed. “We’ll still make it.”

How many times had she heard him say those words?

She resisted tapping her foot at every red light, refrained from urging the other drivers to get out of their way, and tried not to criticize Mark’s driving. She checked her watch. Services would start in five minutes. Better late than not at all, right? Wrong. She hated going in late.

The church parking lot was almost empty. Susannah rechecked her watch. Service should be starting. Where were all the people?

Mark parked and they both climbed out of the car.

Susannah took his arm as they headed toward the front door. “I don’t understand. Why is the parking lot so empty? It should be overflowing by now.”

Mark shrugged. “I don’t know, Honey. We didn’t miss a time change did we?”

“Not that I know of.”

A large sign at the front entrance announced there had been a change in the service time. Instead of being twenty minutes late, they were twenty minutes early.

Susannah led the way down to their usual pew and sat. She bowed her head and closed her eyes.

The choir sang the opening hymn. Susannah tried to concentrate, but her thoughts kept spiraling around the image of the crucifixion. She heard very little of the first reading and almost nothing of the second hymn.

The pastor stood up, read the Gospel, and started his sermon. The words receded, falling away into silence.

Susannah was no longer in church. She stood in a white void, but not alone. Jesus was there. He opened His arms and beckoned her. Without hesitation, she ran to Him, and snuggled into His embrace.

She felt hard muscle beneath His white garment, felt the texture of the rough cloth as it pressed into her skin. All sorrow, pain, and anguish vanished. The world didn’t exist. Nothing existed but Him. She didn’t want to let go ― ever. She wanted to stay in His embrace forever, for eternity.

Unbidden and unwelcome, past transgressions paraded against her closed eyelids. She wasn’t worthy to be in His presence let alone touch Him. Horrified and ashamed, she pulled back.

“Susannah.”

She looked up into His eyes. They held no accusation, only unconditional love. He loved her just as she was, flawed and imperfect. Her failures didn’t matter, only how hard she tried.

The Man of Sorrows directed her gaze to the left. A huge pit of white-hot flames roared beneath black, roiling smoke. Intense heat radiated out in waves.

“Susannah, you must walk through the flames.”

“I can’t!”

“It is not a punishment for your sins, only a natural part of your life. You will endure great suffering.”

“I – I can’t.”

His eyes mirrored her anguish, but pleaded with her to obey.

Taking a deep breath, Susannah stepped down into the inferno and braced for a horrific blast of heat. Instead, she felt His hand reach through the flames and grasp hers.

“As long as you hold onto Me, your faith, the flames will never burn you and I will be waiting on the other side.”

With her next breath, she was back in church. Mark sat attentive to the sermon, unaware anything had happened.

Susannah touched her cheek. The impression of His garment remained on her skin. The aura of peace and ecstasy lingered. She closed her eyes and bowed her head, refusing to let the world back in.

Half a world away in Zimbabwe, Africa, a demon-god roared in rage. His ancient priest flinched, eyed the rising flames of his cooking fire, and scuttled back.

The demon narrowed his eyes. “So, my old enemy, Raphael, has once again disguised his angelic form as that old Indian and now woos that woman to interfere! She even dared to walk into that inferno when God asked!”

With the movement of a gnarled limb, he sent the old priest sprawling toward the cooking fire. The old man screamed and scurried backward.

“I’ll destroy her just as I have destroyed
all
who have dared to oppose me! She’s weak. Her faith won’t hold when she’s alone and terrified. She’ll falter, just as they all have. And then, I will take her.”

The old priest nodded, rose, and entered his hut. He descended the rickety wooden ladder into the ceremonial chamber. The nganga, the cauldron filled with blood, animal parts, and things unimaginable, simmered over a small fire. The ceremonial sticks leaned against the near wall. The old priest brushed his hand over the rough surface of the wooden altar.

The demon’s raspy voice whispered. “Yes. Let it run red.”

***

Mark pulled into the garage and shut the engine off. “You’re awful quiet. Everything okay?”

Susannah nodded. “Yes, just a powerful service.”

“It was good.” He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. “Let’s go out for brunch. You don’t look up to cooking and I sure don’t want to bother.”

He backed out into the street and drove to their favorite all night diner. They ordered breakfast and ate in silence.

Mark patted her hand. “
Are
you okay? You seem distracted.”

“I’m fine. I keep thinking about the service.”

He nodded, but his eyes held doubt.

“I’m fine, really.”

She wasn’t ready to talk about what happened. How could she explain something
she
didn’t understand? Elation, peace, contentment, swirled around her like a cocoon, except for a small crack through which she glimpsed flames. What kind of suffering lay on her horizon?

***

Brian leaned back against the diner booth and tapped his fingers on the table.

Charlie Jackson leaned forward, his eyes riveted on Brian. “I kid you not. This is for real.”

“It sounds too good.”

Charlie glanced around the semi-empty diner and lowered his voice. “I thought so too, at first. But, it’s true. You get paid for every kid, and the fifth one?” He spread his hands. “You get to keep. Do anything you like, really, anything. They don’t care what you do with it.”

Charlie scanned the booths and whispered. “Yeah, and they even have protection in all the important places, if you know what I mean.”

Brian stopped drumming the table. “
All
the important places?”

Charlie nodded. “Everyplace that counts.”

“I prefer to work alone.”

“Yeah, and juggle the day job and dodge the cops. This way you get paid for doing what you want and don’t have to worry about the cops.”

“What’s the catch?”

“Catch?”

“Charlie, nothing comes free.”

Charlie signaled to the waitress for more coffee. He waited until she left before continuing. “No drugs. The boss doesn’t want anyone getting high, or plastered, and running off at the mouth.”

“No alcohol?”

“No binges.”

Brian nodded. It wasn’t good to lose control at any time regardless of some mob boss’s rules. “What else?”

Charlie drained his coffee and scanned the diner again. “They have this religion. I guess you can call it that.”

“Religion?”

“Yeah, some African thing.”

“And?”

“I’ve managed to stay away from their ceremonies, but I’ve heard about them. You want to stay away from that, trust me.”

“So, why be involved at all? You don’t need them.”

“Ah, but don’t you see? They have all the right connections, with all the money. After I make a bit more, I’m out of there.”

Brian picked up his coffee, drained the cup, and set it back down. Was Charlie really on to something, or was he playing with an inferno that was about to engulf him?