Trial by Fire (14 page)

I
t was almost four
A.M.
when Stan and Sid went to make arrests. Issie stayed behind at the conference table in the interrogation room, staring down at her hands splayed out in front of her. Directly across from her, Nick watched the emotions pass across her face.

“You okay?”

She cleared her throat. “No.”

He set one of his hands on top of hers and tried to get her to look up at him. “What is it?”

“I…I'm wondering if I should warn my brother…you know…that Jake might be arrested.”

“I don't think you should,” Nick said. “He might tell Jake, and Jake might tip off the others…”

“You're right,” she cut in, trying to blink back tears. “I know you are. It's just…he's only sixteen, you know…He's been brought in before…disturbing the peace, drunk and disorderly conduct…I bailed him out. I don't think I can bail him out this time.”

“Issie, they would have killed you tonight. He's
with
them.”

“But…what if he's just gotten in over his head? That slime-ball apparently stabbed his friend. What if he's afraid he'll be next?”

“It doesn't matter why he's doing it, Issie. If he's involved—or even if he knew about it—he's accountable. He has to pay.”

“But you're supposed to be all about forgiveness, aren't you?” she asked, looking up at him. “Loving the sinner but hating the sin.”

He had to look deep inside himself to find the answer she needed. It was in there somewhere, way down, covered over by anger toward the people who had killed Ben Ford. “You're talking about two different things, Issie. God's forgiveness, and the world's consequences.”

Tears filled her eyes, and she stared down at her hands again. “What do you mean?”

He swallowed. “Paul the apostle killed Christians. He told himself he did it in the name of God. But it didn't matter why he did it. He killed people. He murdered them. Later, when he realized how wrong he'd been, when he repented, when God forgave him…those Christians were still dead.”

“But…I thought Paul was one of the good guys.”

“He was. He was one of the greatest Christians who ever lived. He wrote most of the New Testament. He was responsible for spreading the gospel throughout the world. But those Christians he killed…he could never undo it. God forgave him completely. He even forgot. But their families were still missing loved ones. They couldn't forget.”

“Then what good is forgiveness? How does it help anybody?”

“It takes away the guilt.”

“But if they still have to pay…”

“The world still makes you pay for your crimes,” he said. “God doesn't.”

“Even when you die?” she asked. “He doesn't punish people who've been involved in murder? They get off scot-free?”

“In heaven, God still requires payment for your sins…all of them, great and small. That payment is death. But he provided someone to make that payment. Someone to take your execution, just as surely as if he'd walked onto death row, unlocked the door, and taken your place. But no one can sit through your execution unless you let them. He doesn't force you to take the pardon.”

He could see from her eyes that she was turning it all over in her mind. He wondered if she was processing it for Jake, or for herself.

“What if you don't deserve a pardon?” she asked.

“That goes without saying,” he said. “Nobody deserves it. But the offer still stands.”

The door opened, and LaTonya Mason stepped in. “Sorry, folks. I need to use this room.”

Issie nodded and got to her feet. “We're leaving.”

Nick wanted to turn around and beg LaTonya for ten more minutes. Issie was close. So close. But still so far from embracing the truth.

She came around the table and took Nick's arm. She was still shaking. “Come on. Let's go.”

He followed her out into the noisy squad room, with telephones ringing and printers buzzing. Perpetrators and complainants cursed and yelled.

He watched that hard look flood back over her face, as if the reality of a fallen world had wakened her from a deep sleep. “Thanks for staying with me, Nick.” She looked down at his bandaged legs. “I know you can't be comfortable. I forgot all about your injuries, I was so wrapped up in my own problems.”

“Well, go easy on yourself,” he said. “They're pretty tough problems.”

She sighed and shook her head helplessly. “I don't know where I'm going to go,” she said. “I can't stay at home, and my brother's is kind of out of the question. Maybe I need to get a hotel.”

“No, you'd be too nervous in a hotel by yourself. You wouldn't sleep a wink. Look, there are a number of places you could stay. I could call several different families in my church. Usually I call Ray and Susan first, but under the circumstances I don't think they're up to taking any guests tonight.”

“No, I hate feeling like an intruder. I don't want to stay in someone's house, especially if I don't know them that well.”

He drew in a deep breath and tried to think. “I have an extra bedroom, but it wouldn't be appropriate for you to stay there with me.”

She gave him a smirk. “Can't you just see it now? The tongues would be wagging for years. Issie Mattreaux and the preacher. Wouldn't that be a hoot?”

He didn't find it amusing. In fact, the thought had already occurred to him too many times.
Issie Mattreaux and the preacher.
No, she couldn't stay at his place. He frowned as an idea came to him. “You know, there is somebody who would probably be glad to put you up, and you know her really well.”

“Who?” she asked.

“Aunt Aggie. She's got plenty of room, and she likes you.”

“Yeah, I could stay with her. Do you think she'd take me?”

“Let me call her and we'll see.”

As he took one of the spare desks with a telephone, he propped his legs up, wishing he'd brought his painkillers. But the pain was worth it to walk Issie through this process. She needed someone, and the fact that she'd chosen him filled him with an inexplicable pride.

Nick let the phone ring several times, for it always took Aunt Aggie a little longer to get all the way down the stairs to the one phone she kept in her foyer. He didn't know why no one had ever been able to talk her into putting a phone upstairs, but the old woman had her ways, and no one was about to change them now.

She finally picked up the phone.
“Hola.”

“Aunt Aggie, it's Nick. I know I woke you up. I'm sorry to call so late…or, so early.”

“Hey, Nick,” she said. “How them burns are?”

“They're okay, Aunt Aggie. Did you hear about the latest church burning?”

“Yep,” she said, “and I hope you see that it ain't just your church burnin' down. It got nothin' to do with you so you can quit that down-in-the-mouth stuff and jus' get on back to preachin'.”

“I plan to, Aunt Aggie,” he said, “but we've got a problem. I need your help. Issie Mattreaux just named some people that she thinks might have something to do with the murders and the church burnings, and we think she's in a little trouble. She was shot at on the way to the police station, and she's afraid to go home. The police are making arrests right now, but if they don't round everybody up…” He hesitated, trying to get to the point. “Aunt Aggie, she needs a place to stay, and I wondered if you'd take her in.”

“That girl can stay with me anytime,” she said. “Only I ain't too crazy 'bout havin' bullet bait in my house.”

“Bullet bait?” he asked.

“Yeah. If people out shootin' at her, I don't want her here, me.”

“But, Aunt Aggie, she doesn't have any place else to go.”

“Well, she can brought herself here, all right,” Aunt Aggie said, “but I ain't got a man to protect us. I'll take her if you come too.”

He frowned. “Me? I have a house, Aunt Aggie.”

She didn't seem to find any relevance in that. “I'll put you downstairs in the guest room. Anybody comes in this house, they go by you first.”

He sat back, thinking it through. Aunt Aggie had never been the frightened type, so her fears now didn't ring true. “Aunt Aggie, is this a trick? Are you just trying to get me in your house so you can hover over me?”

“You want me to take that girl in, or not?”

He grinned and met Issie's eyes. “Aunt Aggie, you're a sneaky little thing, aren't you?”

“You call it sneaky, I call it smart, me. If I got bullet bait in my house, then I gon' have a man to protect me. And if I have to cook and do for you to return the favor, then you'll jes' have to let me, you.”

“All right, Aunt Aggie. You win.”

“I'll take good care o' you,
sha,”
she said with delight. “You ain't been pampered in a long time, you, so y'all come on over, we'll pass a good time.”

He hung up the phone and sat there a moment, wondering how he'd been snookered into that.

Issie approached him. “What did she say?”

“She said you're very welcome to come.” He looked up at her, wishing she wasn't quite so pretty…wishing he wasn't quite so happy about staying in Aunt Aggie's house with her. “There's just one little catch,” he said.

“A catch? What catch?”

“She wants me to come too.”

“What do you mean? To spend the night?”

“Yeah,” he said. “She said that she doesn't feel very safe without a man there and she'd like for me to come.”

“Well, if you don't mind my saying so, she's probably right. I'm not the safest person to be putting up right now. But that doesn't mean that you have to take a bullet for me.”

“I'm not going to take a bullet,” he said. “Nobody's even going to know where you are. I'll just take you by your apartment and we'll go in and get your stuff, get whatever you need for tonight, and then we'll go by my house and I'll get my stuff. I'll just forward my calls to Aunt Aggie's. Oh, and I've got to try and change these bandages. I put it off all day, dreading it, but I guess I can't put it off any longer.”

She looked down at his legs. “I'll be happy to do it.”

He couldn't stand the thought. He wanted her to think of him as strong, invincible. Not wounded and disgusting. “No, that's okay. It's not very pleasant.”

“Hey, I do unpleasant things all the time. I can do a lot better job than you can, Nick. When we get to Aunt Aggie's I'll change your bandages and apply the medication, and make sure everything looks all right.”

The thought of doing it himself was almost more repulsive than the thought of getting her to, but he couldn't decide between the worse of two evils as they drove to her apartment to get her things.

C
ruz and Jennifer's mother let a string of curses fly when she saw Jennifer's face. At that, their grandfather had wakened and shuffled into the kitchen, his big paunch protruding like that of a pregnant woman.

“What are you two tied up in?” Sidney Clairmont demanded.

“It's them church burnings, ain't it?” Hattie Cruz spouted as she doused Jennifer's forehead with hydrogen peroxide. “Reminded me of the old days.”

“Except for the bodies!” Clairmont boomed. “Whatsa matter with you two? You don't kill somebody first thing! You leave a warning, then you burn a cross. You make sure they know the KKK acted, but they can't narrow down who done it.”

“We ain't like you, Granddaddy,” Cruz said. “We ain't the KKK. We have different ways.”

“Use the ways that work, fool!” he bellowed. “That way you don't get shot at and chased and put in jail before you have a chance to make a difference.”

“They know how to do it,” Hattie said. “Daddy, they was raised with this. They been follerin' you since they was knee-high to a grasshopper.”

Cruz went to the refrigerator and got a beer out. “I hear the police been snooping around here.”

His mother made a derisive noise. “Come wanting to talk to you, but I ain't seen you in days.”

“We found a house we could use till we get the compound done,” Cruz said. “When it's done, I want you two to come live there with us. We're gon' have massive security to keep the Feds out, and you can help us recruit older soldiers who have money. We need a cash flow, and the younger ones ain't got much.”

“I ain't movin' nowhere,” Sidney said. “I'm fine right here.”

“But they'll come after you to get to us. I can't promise your protection if you ain't with us. When we get moved in, we'll have a supply of food for a year, an arsenal of weapons, and won't nobody be able to touch us. Just think about it. Think of all we can accomplish with the resources our recruits bring with 'em.”

Hattie put a big Band-Aid on Jennifer's forehead and winked at her son. “I'll work on him,” she said. “Time it's ready, we'll be set to go. Now ya'll ain't going back to the group tonight, are you? You gotta hide. They'll be back lookin' for you again.”

“We'll need to hide the car for sure,” Jennifer said. “They'll be lookin' for it. We put it out in the shed near Granddaddy's deer camp. You think it'll be all right?”

“Yeah,” Sidney grunted. “And you two better stay at the camp. It's empty right now. They won't look there.”

Cruz liked the idea. “Thanks, Granddaddy. I knew you could help.”

By the time they got their things and set up at the deer camp, they were ready for a few hours of sleep.

A
unt Aggie's house was one of the biggest and oldest in Newpointe, and was situated on one of the last undisturbed stretches of land in the center of town. The center point of her acreage dipped down into a valley that flooded when it rained, but her house sat half on a hill overlooking her well-tended garden in front, and half on pilings in back that protected her from rising waters. The driveway swung down and around to the back of the house, and she parked her huge, fifteen-year-old Cadillac underneath. Nick parked next to her car in the garage, and he and Issie carried their things up the steps and into her massive kitchen that smelled of cayenne pepper.

“Come right in, you,” she said. “Issie, you look wore out,
sha.
”

The old woman was wearing a hot pink satin robe and fresh red lipstick on her thin, wrinkled lips. “T-Nick, you takin' care of her?”

“Yes, ma'am, Aunt Aggie.”

“We sure appreciate you taking us in, Aunt Aggie,” Issie said. “I don't know where I would have gone if you hadn't. I've never been so scared in my life.”

“Jes' let 'em try gettin' you here,” Aunt Aggie warned. “Nick'll show 'em, won't you,
sha?”

“They won't come here,” he said. “My guess is they're hiding from the cops as we speak.”

“So d'yeat?” she asked, going to a pot on the stove and taking off the lid. The smell of jambalaya wafted across the room. He wondered if she just kept a pot on 24/7, or if she had thrown this together at the last minute.

“I'm not really hungry,” Issie said, and Nick shot her a sharp look. She cleared her throat. “But it smells so good…I'll have some, anyway.”

“Gettin' too skinny,
sha.
You ain't one o' them anorexics heavin' in the toilets, is you?”

“No, ma'am, Aunt Aggie. I wouldn't do that.”

She spooned out the jambalaya and handed Issie a bowl, then started dipping Nick's. “I ever tell you I was Miss Louisiana in 1938? We needed curves then, not the bones and angles like today. Ma Dugas, he liked ma shape. Never did have nothing for them skeleton types. But I does try to keep ma figure. Ain't no excuse for letting yourself go. Who trying to kill you, Issie?”

Nick grinned at the sudden shift in thoughts as he took his bowl and sat down.

“I think it's the same people who killed Ben Ford,” Issie said.

“Like t'get my hands on 'em,” Aunt Aggie said. “Yellow-livered murderers.”

She ranted and raved for a while longer before she began to wane. Finally, she retired to her bedroom, and Nick found that he felt awkward being here alone with Issie. He wondered what his church members would think if they learned he was spending the night in this house with Aunt Aggie and Issie Mattreaux. Was it really much better than putting Issie up in his own home? But he couldn't worry about that now. Issie's life was in danger until the police rounded up all those who were responsible for the church burnings and the murders.

He carried Issie's things up to her room, then came back down and found her standing in the dark, peering out the window. “They don't know you're here, Issie. It's gonna be okay.” He came up beside her and closed the blinds, then turned a Tiffany lamp on. The darkness fled.

Issie took Nick's hand, making his heart jolt. “Okay, let's have a look at those burns,” she said.

He shook his head. “It's okay, really. Now that I think about it, I can do it. It's really not that hard.”

“Then why have you been putting it off all day?” she asked. “You know, you really should have done it this morning.”

“They're feeling fine. I just—”

“You
have
to change the bandages,” she said. She pulled him toward a chair and got too close, setting a hand on his shoulder and giving a little shove. She was such a flirt, and she was so good at it. He sat down.

“Come on.” Her voice was gentle as she lifted his feet onto an overstuffed ottoman. “Let's put your feet up on this and I'll see what I can do. Where's your stuff?”

He nodded toward the guest room. “It's in there on the bed. In the little black bag.”

“I'll get it.” She took off toward the bedroom, and he closed his eyes and leaned his head back and prayed a silent prayer that he would keep this in perspective. He wasn't used to being alone with women or having one address his needs. Oh, occasionally someone would bring him a meal or come clean up his house when he was particularly busy, but usually it was one of the married members of his church. He had a few single women who had targeted him for husband material, but they weren't women in whom he was interested. And Aunt Aggie's ministrations didn't count.

Issie Mattreaux was someone he had spent too much time thinking about. He wondered if she was aware of just how attracted he was to her…

... And just how much he didn't want to be.

She came back, her black hair shimmering in the lamplight, and he wondered if she took any special care of it or if it came easy to her. He didn't think he knew any other women whose hair looked quite that silky. It was midnight-colored satin, and he told himself that it probably didn't feel as soft as it looked. In fact, it was probably coarse to the touch, and probably smelled like sauerkraut or old gym shoes…

Yeah, right.

She brought the bandages and the Silvadene cream that he was to put on the burns. He tried not to wince as she peeled the bandages off. Instead, he chuckled, amused that he would be concerned about impressing her with his toughness.

“What's so funny?” she asked as she worked.

“It's not funny,” he said. “I was just thinking how big and strong I'm supposed to be—since I'm ostensibly protecting you and all—and here you are, making me coil up like a toddler about to get a shot.”

She grinned. “Am I being rough with you?”

“No, it's okay.” He chuckled again. He watched her work on his legs and she did it quickly, competently, and he realized that she was very good at what she did. The pain was making him sweat, and he tried to get his mind to shift gears.

“What would you have been if you hadn't been a paramedic?” he asked her.

“Oh, I don't know. I'd probably be in jail.”

He hadn't expected that, and he laughed. “Jail? Come on.”

She grinned. “I'm half serious,” she said. “I really only decided to be a paramedic for the money. It looked pretty good, and there's a lot of time off. A lot of time on too, though.”

“Give me a break. You love what you do.”

“Sometimes,” she said as her grin faded again. “But days like today…I think I'd opt for jail.”

He wished her eyes were easier to forget. “Tell me you didn't have any feelings of wanting to help people, wanting to rescue them.”

“I think I kind of liked the idea of the adrenaline pumping through my veins. You know what I mean?”

He nodded. “Yeah, I know. But I saw you today. You weren't trying to save that kid's life for the money or the adrenaline rush. You really cared about him.”

She seemed to concentrate harder on the burns.

He winced. “And besides that, the money isn't that great,” he said. “You could have been a nurse or a doctor and made a lot more money.”

“Yeah, can't you just see me as a doctor?” she asked. “I couldn't care for patients long-term. I don't do anything long-term. I'm not like you, Nick.”

“What do you mean, you're not like me?”

She kept her eyes on his burns. “I'm not the commitment type.”

“And I am? You haven't ever seen me commit to a woman, have you?”

“Well, you've committed to a lot of other things. Your church, the people you're friends with. People rely on you. I, on the other hand, am not one that anyone relies on.”

“Hey, if I was in a fix and needed rescuing, you'd be the one I'd call.”

She gave a weak smile. “Thanks, Nick. I appreciate that, and obviously the feeling is mutual since that's exactly what I did tonight.”

His face sobered, and suddenly he felt very vulnerable. It wasn't a bad feeling. “Why
did
you call me, Issie?” he asked quietly. “Me, of all people?”

She sat back then and looked a little embarrassed. “I don't know. I really don't.”

She wouldn't meet his eyes. She just kept looking at his legs as she worked, and he forgot the pain and watched the pink color climb in her cheeks. He'd never seen her blush before. She wasn't the type. He wondered if it had anything to do with today when he had pulled her back against him and held her. It had been instinctive, something he probably shouldn't have done. He was a preacher, after all, and had to maintain a certain amount of decorum. But she had been so distraught…

He couldn't forget how small she had felt in his arms.

She finished bandaging his legs, then stood up. “Almost good as new,” she said.

“I appreciate that. You just don't know how much.” He carefully lowered his feet to the floor, then set his hands on his knees.

He was nervous, he realized, and that was so silly. He was almost always nervous around Issie. He didn't know why. Sometimes it felt as if she was playing with him. Other times he felt a fierce, overwhelming sense of protection toward her. He didn't know why he would think that God might appoint him protector over her. Surely, there were plenty of other men who wouldn't mind guarding her, men who were more her type.

She got up and sat facing him on the ottoman, her knees just inches from his. She had something on her mind, he sensed, something she didn't want to say from across the room. He expected coy flirtation, but instead, her face was serious as she looked into his eyes.

“Nick, can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” he said. “What?”

She looked down at her hands, and he saw that she was fidgeting. Her voice was quiet, as though she didn't want Aunt Aggie to somehow overhear. “Sometimes…I look at my life…and it's not exactly the way I thought it would be. And I see my family…” She swallowed. “My father's an alcoholic…not that I would know it firsthand, since he's never been around. Before my mother died, she worked in a bar in Slidell and had very little interest in anything I did. She had…weird priorities, you know? Always did. And then I see my brother and Lois standing back at arm's length while Jake gets involved in such a mess. I start to wonder…what things might have been like if we were different.”

He knew that she was leading up to an important question, one for which he needed an answer, and he silently prayed that God would give him the wisdom to answer it in the right way. It was tempting, sometimes, to tell someone what they wanted to hear, just to make them feel better. But Issie's life might depend on the truth. Her eternal life, anyway.

“Different how?” he prompted.

“Different, you know. Religious maybe. I mean, sometimes I look around at the people who go to church, people like you and Mark and Allie…Dan and Jill…Susan and Ray…and I think how together they all seem to have things. Sometimes I just look at them and think it's harder for them, you know? Like when Mark and Allie were having problems. Other people might have just gone for divorce, moved on, taken the easy way…but it was harder for them because they had this standard to live by. In some ways I felt sorry for them because of that. Angry even. But that's another story.”

Nick couldn't meet her eyes on that one. He knew that she had been in love with Mark and wanted to see that marriage break up. The fact that it didn't happen had probably surprised her.

“But then I look at them now and I see how happy they are, and they've got the baby. They're a real family. And Dan and Jill. You know all that time when Dan was single, I used to watch the women line up for him. And frankly, I would have gone out with him in a second if he'd asked. He just never did, and I think I know why.”

Nick met her eyes again.

“I wasn't his type,” she said. “I was a little too loose and free. And, of course, most men like that, but Dan was of a different ilk.”

Nick grinned. “You can say that again.”

“But he was,” Issie said. “He had that standard, that different set of rules he lived by.”

“They're not rules,” Nick said. “Really, Issie, they're not.”

“Well, the Ten Commandments are rules.”

“Issie, the only reason Christians live by a different standard is because they trust that God wants what's best. God gave those commandments for their good, not so they couldn't have any fun. He knows how sin hurts people. It really does, Issie. Look at what's happening to Jake. Look at the murders. Look at the church burnings.”

She nodded. “Look at my life.”

She was coming around, he thought as his heart rate sped up, like it always did when someone started to see and understand the truth. He wondered if Jesus had gotten that racing heartbeat when someone finally got it. He took her hands, as if to hold her there and keep her from backing away. “The cycle doesn't have to go on,” he said. “You could stop it right now.”

She was quiet for a long time, staring at a button on his shirt. “I don't know, Nick. I'm not the type to start living by rules. And besides that, I can't imagine a God who would care a thing about me. Some stupid medic who drinks and parties too hard…who has a past like I have.”

“He does care, Issie. You have to believe that.”

“Well, I wish I could believe it. I really do. It serves the people who believe it. Kind of a placebo effect, maybe. If they think it, then it makes things better for them. Maybe it's all psychological anyway. Maybe I just need to get my mind thinking right.”

“Mark and Allie's marriage wasn't healed because of any psychology,” Nick said. “It was because God worked on their hearts and changed them. Trust me, Issie. If there was a woman alive who could have lured Mark from Allie, it would have been you.”