The Runaway Pastor's Wife (48 page)

She started to pace, her words tripping over
themselves in rapid succession. “Honey, I was so shocked! I couldn’t believe
it! I hadn’t seen Michael in years, you see. And you can imagine my surprise—I
thought he was dying! So, I called Doc Wilkins and he came up and he operated
on Michael. Doc saved his life, Max.”

He hung on her every word, despite the uneasiness
she saw on his face. “Go on.”

“Well, that’s really all there is to tell.
Except that the power went out and the phones went down
and . . . well, he’s in some very serious trouble, honey.
Someone is trying to kill him. I know it must sound crazy. It’s all very
complicated.”

He looked away.

“Max, I know it’s an awkward situation.
Believe
me, I know. I’ve never been in such a strange mess in all my life.”

“How did you know him in the first place?”

“Well, that’s a long story, sweetheart.”

“I came all the way up here to find you. Don’t
you think you should tell me?”

His tone tightened the knot in her stomach.
“Michael and I go way back. We were in college together. That’s how we both
knew Christine.”

“But he wasn’t like a boyfriend or anything, was
he?”

She rubbed her hands together. “Um, yes. Yes, he
was. But honey, that was a long,
long
time ago.”

His eyes bore through her. She couldn’t bear the
questions reflected in them. “Max, I told you not to jump to conclusions, and I
meant it. There is nothing going on here beyond what I just explained to you.”

He rolled his neck, both sides, then sat down on
the hearth, planting his elbows on his knees. “I’m just so tired. I don’t know
what
to think.”

Suddenly, the overhead lights came on
accompanied by a series of beeps from the microwave and the security system.
Doc appeared at the utility room door. “Now that’s more like it. Annie, how
about making us all a pot of coffee?”

She clapped her hands together. “Good idea. Max,
would you like some coffee? Are you hungry? Can I get you something to eat?”

“Coffee sounds good.” He didn’t bother looking
at her.

She stood, reaching out to brush the bangs off
his forehead. He flinched at her touch. A lump lodged in her throat. She
pressed her lips together and headed for the kitchen.

“There really is so much I want to tell you, but
first I want to hear about home. Is Dad okay?”

Max stretched out his legs, arching his back. “I
suppose so. He’s been really upset about you leaving and all.” He stood up
again, turning his back to her to stare into the fire. “I couldn’t stand seeing
him suffer like that. And Nana made a big scene and got her picture in the
paper.”

“Whatever for?” she asked, holding the empty
carafe.

“You know Nana—it doesn’t take much. She got all
hot and bothered that no one knew where you were and went to the newspaper
about it. Made it sound like you’d been kidnapped or something.”

She set the carafe in the sink. “Oh Max. Please
tell me you’re joking.”

“Front page. Big story. Big picture.”

“Oh no. Poor David. How did he—”

“It was bad, Mom.” He tossed a quick look at her
over his shoulder. “I don’t really want to talk about it right now.”

An involuntary groan escaped her lips. She
pushed the carafe under the faucet, filling it with frigid, clear water. She
made the coffee, going through the motions on autopilot, then slowly walked
over to the hearth and sat down.

“Max, I’m so sorry. I had no idea. I never meant
to hurt anybody. I just needed a chance to think. Everything was closing in on
me and—” Max sat down beside her and put his arm around her. She leaned into
him, inhaling her son’s musky scent. “I’m so sorry, honey.”

“Mom, I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

“Annie?”

Mother and son looked up. Michael stood in the
doorway from the hall, leaning heavily on Doc.

Oh Lord, give me strength.

“Uh . . . Max, this is the
unexpected house guest I was telling you about.” She cringed at the high pitch
of her voice.

No one said anything. Doc proceeded to help his
patient move to the sofa across from them, seating him there. “I think I’ll go
check on that coffee.”

Michael lifted his head and looked into the
distrusting eyes of her son. Annie watched as he took in everything—the eyes,
the hair, the slant of her son’s nose. She watched his eyes trace the line of
Max’s jaw, identical to his own. And she watched as Michael struggled to
swallow his emotion.

“What are you looking at?” Max challenged.

Michael shifted his eyes to Annie. “Did you tell
him?”

She pressed her eyes shut, furious he would ask
at a moment like this. “No, Michael. Not now,” she whispered.

“Tell me what?” Max narrowed his eyes at
Michael. “Don’t treat me like I’m a child. I want to know what’s going on here.
Did she tell me what?”

Michael cleared his throat. “Max, we haven’t
been introduced yet. My name is Michael Dean.”

“Yeah, so? I know who you are. Mom just told
me.”

“She did?” Michael’s surprise crossed his face.
“Oh, you mean about us being friends from way back when.”

“That’s exactly what she told me.”

Michael started to say something then closed his
mouth. He raised his eyebrows at Annie. “What else did you tell him?”

Annie buried her face in her hands. “Michael,
please don’t.”

Max jumped up. She looked up in time to see
white-hot rage rip across his face. He moved away from them, yelling at them,
“Oh, now I get. I see what’s going on here. You lied to me, Mom! You said there
was nothing between the two of you but now I can see that was a lie!”

“Settle down. It’s not what you think,” Michael
said.

“
You
 . . . you shut
up!”

Annie started after her son. “No, Max. He’s right.
It isn’t at all what you’re thinking. Please, calm down and listen to me!”

Max held up his hands, shielding himself from
her. “Stay away from me. I don’t want to hear this! I don’t want to hear
any
of this.”

He turned, rushing toward the front door.

“
M
ax,
I’m your father!”

They froze, paralyzed by the raw shock of the
words still hanging in the air.

Max stood bolted where he was, his hand on the
doorknob. “What did you say?”

“I said I’m your father,” Michael answered. “But
you don’t understand any of this. Please, come back and let us explain it all.
It’s time you knew.”

Annie took a step toward her son. “Honey,
please, if you’ll just—”

“No! I’ve heard enough. You think I’m some kind
of idiot that I don’t see what’s gone on here? Geez, Mom. Give me some credit.”

“Max, no!” she sobbed. “You don’t—”

“Sure I do! But y’know what? I don’t WANT to
know. I’m not gonna stay here and listen to a pack of lies from this guy. I’m
outta here.”

Max threw open the door and flew across the
porch then down the stairs. He stumbled, falling onto the snowy driveway. His
breath came in heaving gasps as he grappled to get back on his feet.

Suddenly, a strong hand pulled him to his feet.
“Wha—”

“Well, look what we have here!”

“Let me go!”

Max fought the unseen person who held him. He
heard a car door open and looked up, realizing a huge black Hummer was parked
just down the driveway. Out of the back seat on the other side, a stranger
emerged in a dark coat with a fedora pulled down low. The hat tipped slightly,
signaling Max’s captor to drag him to the other side of the car. Another
passenger climbed out of the front seat.

“Marcus, you need some help?”

“Who are you?” Max shouted. “What do you want?”

“Nothing that concerns you, young man,” the man
in the hat said. “But, then again, maybe you can help us out.”

Max struggled again, glaring at the stranger.

“Just who are you, young fella?”

“I’m not telling you anything. Let me go!”

“MAX!” his mother screamed from the porch. “Get
your hands off my son!”

The accomplice grabbed Max’s other arm in a
death-grip.

The man in the hat looked up at Annie. “My, my,
my. Isn’t this nice? Quite a little gathering we have here, don’t we?”

“Who
are
you? What do you want with my
son!”

“Now, now, don’t get upset. I’m sure we can all
sort this out. We’ll just come up and have a little chat inside where it’s nice
and warm.”

“Stay where you are and tell them to let go of
my son!”

“Let him go, Elliot.” Michael limped onto the
porch with Doc supporting him.

“Ah, yes. I was wondering when you’d show your face.
Michael, you don’t look so good!” the man chuckled.

“Let the boy go, Elliot. He has nothing to do
with this. Just nice and easy, let him go.” Michael had made his way slowly to
Annie’s side and grabbed hold of the railing. Doc stepped back away.

Max watched the man called Elliot take off his
fedora, tapping it against his coat as he looked around the clearing. He
brushed a few flakes of snow from his coat collar then walked leisurely toward
the front of his large vehicle.

“The way I see it, Michael, this boy here is my
insurance card. I’ll be more than happy to hand him over if you’ll just get
inside the car. That’s all. What could be easier?”

“Forget it. I’ve already passed along a whole
packet of evidence implicating you in the murder of Christopher Jordan. By now
it’s in the hands of the Attorney General.”

Elliot laughed as he placed his hat back on his
head. “Oh, I doubt that seriously.”

“There’s a document that spells it all out.
Every word of it. My written testimony will put you and Duke away forever.”

Max watched as the other back door of the Hummer
opened. A tall, lanky man unfolded from the car’s interior, holding up a packet
in his gloved hand.

“You mean this?”

“Grady!” Michael gasped. His knees started to
buckle. Annie grabbed him, helping him stay on his feet. “Wha—what are you
doing?”

Grady kept his head down, refusing to look him
in the eye. “Michael, Michael . . . you just never know when
you’ll run into an old friend, now do you?”

“What? I don’t understand. Why are you—”

“Oh, it’s really kind of amusing. Elliot here
has been my
mentor
, I guess you could say.” Grady looked at the
Congressman who nodded, noticeably pleased at the compliment. “He’s been a
tremendous help to me for a long time, pal. In fact, I have you to thank for
introducing us.”

Grady finally raised his eyes to meet Michael’s.
“I met Elliot at your wedding. It wasn’t long after that I found myself in a
rather nasty fix with a savings and loan company. If it hadn’t been for
Congressman Thomas I would be in prison today.”