Mordecai drove the car. He drove where the voices told him to drive, even though he didn’t understand why. Faith, he reminded himself, wasn’t about understanding why. It was about believing, about acting without hesitation to obey the dictates of Spirit. He drove for ten minutes, then twenty. And then he pulled off and stopped the car.
He leaned over the back seat. “We’re clear, David. All clear.”
“God, you didn’t even get stopped,” David said, pulling the blanket from over his head and staring up at Mordecai from the floor. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure. You know how ineffective the police can be.”
David smiled and started to get up.
“Wait,” Mordecai said. “I’ve been very patient with you, David. Very patient. But my patience is wearing thin. Tell me what you know about Lizzie.”
David was sitting up now, but still on the floor. He nodded, sighing. “There was this picture in the newspaper, some kind of festival, late last fall. She was in the background of the shot, standing in the crowd watching a parade go by.” He shook his head. “I couldn’t believe the coincidence.”
“Oh, it was no coincidence. It was the hand of Spirit. You were meant to see that photo, and I was meant to find my Lizzie.”
David nodded, licking his lips and looking a little nervous. “The town was some rural place in Vermont. Blackberry.”
“Blackberry, Vermont. God, it’s almost too quaint.” He pictured her, the way she had been, long ago. Lost and alone, and so very needy. He’d been her hero, her savior, then. “I presume she’s using an alias.”
“I don’t know. I would imagine so. The government probably set her up with a whole new identity after—after what happened last year.” He shook his head. “I can’t believe she actually shot you. If it wasn’t for that vest—”
“We don’t discuss that, David.”
David’s eyes shot to Mordecai’s, then lowered. “All right.”
“That’s all you know? You’ve told me everything?”
He nodded. “That’s all. I don’t know if she’s living in that town or was only there visiting. But I know it was her. I’m sure it was her. I saved the clipping for you.” He dug into a pocket as he spoke, tugged out a folded scrap of paper and held it up.
Mordecai took it. It was damp and worn. He unfolded it carefully, then turned on the overhead light so he could see it. The headline read “Harvest Time in Smalltown, USA.” The photo was three columns wide, and in color. Floats with giant pumpkins and small children. A high school marching band. A crowd of spectators. A backdrop of crimson and gold foliage. Despite the wet blotches and creased folds, Mordecai spotted her right away. She stood in the crowd, and yet alone. She wore blue jeans and a suede jacket. Her long blond hair was pulled back in a ponytail. He was irrationally glad she hadn’t cut it.
“You’re right,” he said to David. “It’s her. It’s Lizzie.”
“I knew it. Anyway, the article doesn’t say anything about her. But it’s something. It’s more than you had before.”
Mordecai nodded. “Then I guess I’m finished with you now. You can get out.”
Blinking, frowning in confusion, David said, “You…want me to just…go? You’re just going to leave me out here like a stray dog? Mordecai, I need a place to crash, some dry clothes, maybe a few dollars in my pocket. I’ve got to survive. After what I’ve done for you, I thought—”
Mordecai sighed. “You’re right. I mustn’t forget what I owe you, after all. I’m going to take care of you, David, the way you took care of me. Come on, get up now. Come with me.”
Mordecai opened his door and got out; then he opened the back door and took David’s arm to help him out of the car. “You have taken good care of me, after all, haven’t you, David?”
“I knew you’d want to know.”
“Oh, I don’t mean this,” Mordecai said, shoving the clipping into his pocket. “This…this was good, David, but we both know it was self-serving. You did this for yourself, not for me.”
“No—”
“Yes. You wanted me to get you out of prison. You knew this information would ensure I did so. After all, you could have just enclosed the clipping with the letter.”
David broke the hold of Mordecai’s eyes to look around. He was getting very nervous. “I could have. But I didn’t want to risk losing it. It could have been found.”
Mordecai shrugged. “And what about last year, when you told them where to find me after I’d reclaimed my daughter from that bitch Julie Jones? Was that all for me, as well?”
David’s gaze snapped back to Mordecai’s. “I didn’t—”
“David, David, don’t lie to me. I know it was you. You were the only one, besides Lizzie and I, who knew about the mansion in Virginia. And even if you weren’t, my guides told me who played Judas to my Christ.”
“Jesus, the guides again. Mordecai, you can’t always trust those voices in your head. They aren’t—”
“Aren’t what? Aren’t real? How have I survived, then? I could have been killed at the raid on my compound eighteen years ago. I could have been killed in Virginia last year, when the woman who claimed to love me fired a bullet into my chest. Or later, when the police descended on me. But I wasn’t. My daughter could have been killed, as well, by those bastards claiming to have come to rescue her. From her own father. They called it a kidnapping. Can you imagine?” He shook his head. “I survived. I always survive. The guides see to that. And they tell me all I need to know. Admit it, David. You betrayed me.”
David blinked. He was shaking again, but not from the cold this time. “You’re right, I did tell someone about the Virginia house. Not the authorities. Another prisoner. I had no choice in that, Mordecai. He had clout, a lot of respect. You don’t know what it’s like in prison. They would have killed me if I hadn’t talked.”
“So again, your self-interests outweighed your concern for me.” Mordecai shrugged. “I suppose it’s part of the human condition. Selfishness. Disloyalty.”
David couldn’t hold his eyes, so he looked past him. And then the worry returned. “Mordecai, this looks like the same place where you picked me up. Isn’t this right where we started?”
“Right where you started, perhaps. I’m miles ahead of where I was a short while ago. Goodbye, David.”
Mordecai lifted the gun, as the voices had been screaming at him to do for countless minutes now. It had come to him very clearly why the roadblocks would not be a problem tonight. It was because David wouldn’t be cowering in the back seat when Mordecai’s car was searched. David wasn’t going anywhere—nowhere on this plane, at least. He pointed the gun’s barrel at David’s head, and even as the man flinched and cried out, Mordecai calmly squeezed the trigger.
David’s body collapsed downward like a building when well-placed demolition charges go off. He sank fast, landing in a heap at Mordecai’s feet.
“I promised to free you from your prison, David. And now I have.”
Mordecai left the blanket where it was, twisted around David’s body. It was wet, muddy now, and tainted with blood. He got back into the car, sliding the gun into the holder he had mounted under the driver’s seat, and drove away.
It was time to find Lizzie. It was time to right the wrongs she had done, wash clean the sins she had committed—against him, against their daughter.
Against God.