He hung up and raced to the elevator, got off on Andi and Wes’s floor, and ran to Andi’s office. She wasn’t there. He turned and hurried down to Wes’s, and found them both sitting wearily at his conference table. “I’ve figured it out!” he said, bursting into the room. “Givens is behind it. Charles Butler—the arsonist—was working for him, and so is one of our security guards. I’ve got their phone records, and they were both in touch with him over a dozen times each right before the sabotage.”
Andi stood up, stricken, and Wes followed. “Justin, are you sure?” Wes asked. “Can you prove this?”
“Not yet,” he said. “Not quite. But Charlie Butler is already in jail, and we can get a confession out of him. Givens is letting him take the fall, and by now, I’ll bet he’s busting to get even. The other guy will spill his guts, too, as soon as I get my hands around his throat. I thought you two might want to come be witnesses to this grand event.”
He turned and headed back to the elevators.
“Justin!” he heard Andi shout as the doors closed behind him. But he didn’t intend to be stopped until he’d gotten the truth out where everyone could see it.
Justin’s first stop was to the security house, where he found Allen Jenkins, the man in question, and feigning friendship and respect, asked him to come help him with something. Putting his arm around him, he escorted him to the accident scene, where two inspectors were videotaping and photographing the scene. The parish engineer who had ordered him off of the track yesterday looked up at him as he approached with the guard, and Andi and Wes were fast approaching from across the grounds.
When Justin turned to face the engineer, his arm still thrown across the shoulders of the guard, the man’s steps faltered.
“I want to know something,” said Justin. “Who did this investigation and filled out the initial report on the crash?”
The man cleared his voice and glanced around him. “Well … I did.”
“Then tell me,” Justin bit out in a murderously quiet voice, as he took slow, menacing steps toward him, still holding onto the guard. “Are you blind … or are you in B.W. Givens’s pocket, too?”
Allen Jenkins stiffened beneath Justin’s arm, and the inspector began to fidget. The group of men beside the building ceased their conversations. “I … I don’t know what you-”
Justin pointed to the rails over his head. “I’m talking about the fact that the spikes were removed on about twenty feet of rail. I’m talking about the missing joint bar. I’m talking about a cover-up!”
The inspector began to step backward, but Justin’s hands shot out and took him by the collar, jerking him upward until the short man’s face was closer to the frightening eyes that bored into him. “Why did you cover up? Did you have something to do with the sabotage?”
“What … I … No …” the man stammered.
Fury seethed through Justin’s veins, and he was on the verge of explosion. “Funny thing is, Givens isn’t going to cover for you. Remember the fire that was started a few weeks ago? He’s still letting Charlie Butler take the heat. Poor man’s sitting in jail, waiting for trial or for big, important Givens to bail him out, but he’s not going to. And he won’t bail you out, either. He’d as soon throw you to the wolves as remember your name.”
Allen Jenkins started to walk away, so Justin released the inspector and grabbed the security guard. Holding his collar in both fists, he dragged the guard close to his face. “And you … protecting the park from the forces of evil … who woulda thought that you might be one of Givens’s puppets, that you might have known what part of the tracks weren’t covered by cameras, and that you might have gotten up there without being noticed and pulled those bolts? Who would have believed it?”
“Hey, man. I didn’t do anything like that … I would never do anything to hurt Promised Land!”
“We have phone records, pal. We have your bank deposits. And you didn’t really think that Givens was going to get you out of this, did you? Give you an alibi? Bail you out? No. In fact, he has some interesting stories to tell about you.” It was a bluff, and he didn’t know for sure if it would work. But he was the king of the bluffers.
Andi seethed with rage. “We’ve been led to believe that you were the mastermind,” she said, adding to the bluff. “That you may have planned the whole thing.”
“That sleazeball told you that?” the engineer cried. “He told you that I masterminded it? Let me tell you something! If it weren’t for me, it might have happened when people were around it. I’m the one who made sure that no one got hurt! If it weren’t for me, it would have wound up like the fire, almost killing someone. Or the car wreck …” He caught himself and cursed, then kicked at the ground.
Andi and Justin exchanged glances, and there was a collective gasp from all of those around them. Then dead, barren silence.
“What car wreck?” Andi asked.
He clammed up, unwilling to say another word.
“What car wreck?” she shouted. “My father’s? Was Givens behind my father’s wreck?”
The guard was shaking now, and he muttered, “I’m not saying another word until I have a lawyer.”
Andi, too, was shaking, and her eyes filled with tears. “We can make a deal with you. If you talk, and tell us everything you know that Givens has done, and testify against him when we get him to trial, I can guarantee you that we’ll drop all charges against you. Both of you. But if you don’t, I can promise you that you’ll rot in jail along with him, if it takes every last ounce of energy I have to make it happen.”
“Get me a lawyer, and I’ll tell you everything I know,” the engineer said.
The guard was almost in tears as he nodded his head. “Get me one, too,” he said. “And I’ll talk.”
They had the guards they trusted take them away until their lawyers could get there, and Andi stood frozen for a long moment, staring after them as the reality of what had happened sank into her. “Givens was responsible for my father’s death,” she said. “He caused the accident. He killed him …”
Justin didn’t care that she had sent him away, called him deadweight, told him she didn’t love him. He slid his arms around her and held her, only caring that she had some comfort from the ugly realities she had encountered today.
“Just hold me for a minute,” she whispered. “Don’t let me go.”
“You should know by now,” he whispered, his trembling arms crushing her more desperately against him, “that I have no intentions of ever doing that again.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Because of the mountain of evidence that came in like an avalanche regarding Givens’s part in the crimes against Promised Land, and the eyewitness accounts from people who were either approached about doing mischief on the grounds or hired to do it, not to mention the fact that the security guard swore to the fact that Givens had been responsible for Andrew Sherman’s accident, the man decided to plead guilty to extortion, conspiracy, slander, and manslaughter—a charge that had been bargained down in order to get his confession.
Three months later, he was sentenced to thirty-five years in prison—not enough for Andi, but enough to get him out of her way as she finished Promised Land. He was also ordered to pay her significant damages, an amount even higher than her insurance had already paid.
One morning, as she and Justin stood in the tower overlooking the park, where they had stood together on that first day that they’d signed the papers making Justin a part of Promised Land, she felt more peace than she’d felt in months. The Hands Across the Sea area had been rebuilt in record time, and the FanTran was finished, as well. Her investors had come to her aid to finance the rebuilding, knowing full well that the park would more than earn it back as soon as it opened.
“I can’t believe it’s almost finished,” she whispered as the breeze whipped through her hair. “Can you?”
“Yeah,” he said. “I can. There it is.”
She smiled. “What would I have done wit
hout you, Justin? I’d be bankrupt. I’d be cowering in a corner somewhere, and Givens would have won.”
“You cowering? I don’t think so.”
“I don’t know,” she said. “I’ve cowered from you an awful lot. God sure has taught me some lessons, Justin.”
He turned his back to the rail and leaned against it, gazing at her. “What lessons?”
“About my pride. About real repentance. About how self-defeating it is to always win.”
“Yeah,” he said. “Sometimes you need to lose, don’t you? Just to keep you humble.” He slid his hands into his pockets. “I can relate. God’s had to bend me and break me and chip away at me to make me more like him. I still have an awful long way to go.”
“But look at his provision. He brought us together, with all our flaws, and knew that we would help lift each other up. Amazing, isn’t it?”
“Not so amazing when you consider that it was all a part of his plan. To bring us together. To see us get married.”
Her eyes shot up to his, and he caught her chin and held it so she wouldn’t break his gaze. “Andi, it’s time.”
“Time for what?” she asked with a coy smile.
“Time to marry me,” he said. “The park’s opening next month. I think that’s ample time to plan a wedding.”
Her eyes widened. “You want to get married before the park opens?”
“Nope,” he said. “When the park opens. I want to get married on opening day, just like we planned.”
She stared at him for a moment as tears filled her eyes, then finally reached up to slide her arms around his neck. “I think that’s a beautiful idea, Justin.”
“Really?” he asked. “Even though it was mine?”
“Because it was yours,” she said.
A month later, Andi stood beside Justin, her gown shimmering in the white-gold sunlight. Justin smiled down at her, running his finger around the inside edge of his stiff collar as if he couldn’t wait to be rid of it.
The minister stepped to the bell tower railing of Khaki’s Kastle, and smiled down on the thousands of people below them who had packed into the Promised Land grounds for opening day and the fairy-tale wedding. With a triumphant smile, the minister spread his arms wide. “I now pronounce you man and wife,” he shouted dramatically as the crowd roared in wild excitement. Hundreds of colorful balloons rose to sprinkle the sky, and streamers and confetti floated everywhere.
“Shall I kiss the bride?” Justin inquired with an insufferable grin as he pulled Andi into his arms.
“If you don’t, I’m pushing you over,” Andi teased, sliding her arms around his neck and letting the forgotten bouquet hang from her fingertips as he dipped and kissed her.
His kiss was drugging, exhilarating, promising, awakening desire that would have to wait. A cheer rose from the crowd, then a unanimous demand for the bouquet. Justin broke the kiss and looked around, distracted. “Uh … I think they want the bouquet.”
She laughed and looked over the rail to the friends, family, and patrons below them. “Where should I toss it?”
Justin looked out over her shoulder until he found Sherry standing beside Madeline. “How about over there?” he asked. “It might cheer Sherry up.”
Taking aim, Andi leaned forward and launched the bouquet. Madeline dove for it, but it fell into Sherry’s hands. She looked stunned for a moment, then forced a smile and waved up at them. “I hope Clint comes back,” Justin said. “I think Sherry deserves to be as happy as we are.”
The Promised Land band struck up, and all of Khaki’s Krewe began to dance hilariously. “We really did it,” Andi said, turning back to Justin.
“God did it,” Justin whispered. “In spite of us.” Justin turned her to face him and pulled her into his arms. “I think we have a few hours until the reception,” he whispered against her ear, referring to the Downtown, Planet Earth party they had scheduled for that night, the party that would remain a nightly Promised Land event. “Why don’t we try to slip away?”
“You’re on,” she said. “Let’s go.”
He reached down and swept her up in his arms and carried her down the long staircase to the coach that awaited them.
Wes and Laney, with Amy and the baby, leaned into the chariot before it moved. Wes pressed a kiss on her cheek, then clutched Justin’s hand in silent blessing. He stepped back, and Andi’s mother—looking tanned and radiant from her stint in Paris—embraced them both joyfully. “In all the world, I couldn’t have picked a better husband for my daughter,” she told Justin. “Her father would be so proud.”
Smiling, Justin kissed her cheek. She stepped back, and the joyous crowd parted as the white steeds marched through, pulling the coach that carried the lovers.
Khaki, Ned, Trudeau, and all the rest of the Krewe gave mock salutes to their animator on their right, and on the left Andi’s uniformed park employees waved joyously. But Andi and Justin were oblivious to the cheers and congratulations over their married dreams, for they were lost in a new one that took them far beyond today. A dream that God had ordained.
And in that dream they were both winners.
About the Author
Terri Blackstock is an award-winning novelist who has written for several major publishers including HarperCollins, Dell, Harlequin, and Silhouette. Published under two pseudonyms, her books have sold over 5 million copies worldwide.
With her success in secular publishing at its peak, Blackstock had what she calls “a spiritual awakening.” A Christian since the age of fourteen, she realized she had not been using her gift as God intended. It was at that point that she recommitted her life to Christ, gave up her secular career, and made the decision to write only books that would point her readers to him.
“I wanted to be able to tell the truth in my stories,” she said, “and not just be politically correct. It doesn’t matter how many readers I have if I can’t tell them what I know about the roots of their problems and the solutions that have literally saved my own life.”
Her books are about flawed Christians in crisis and God’s provisions for their mistakes and wrong choices. She claims to be extremely qualified to write such books, since she’s had years of personal experience.
A native of nowhere, since she was raised in the Air Force, Blackstock makes Mississippi her home. She and her husband are the parents of three children—a blended family which she considers one more of God’s provisions.
ENJOY THE NEXT BOOK IN THE SECOND CHANCES SERIES
Blind Trust
Chapter 1
The Bronco that had been riding Sherry Grayson’s bumper since she’d left work was not the sole cause of her rising anger. But since it had been inappropriate to lash out at Madeline when she’d broken the news just fifteen minutes ago, she figured the Bronco was as good a target for her rancor as any.
Deliberately slowing to fifteen miles an hour in a forty-mile-an-hour zone, she crept along, hoping the driver behind her would get the message and pass her before she gave in to her instincts and slammed her brakes to make him hit her from behind. It would serve him right, she thought. But wrecking her car wouldn’t solve her problems, any more than bursting into tears would. And she had neither the time nor the energy for that.
“Slow down,” she muttered as tremors of anxiety coursed through her. She couldn’t deal with a battle with a joyrider today. Yesterday, when life still had as much normalcy as it had ck anymore. After what she’d learned today, she knew she’d have to look back to muster the strength to plunge forward into the inevitable.
According to her roommate, Clint Jessup was back from the black hole he’d vanished into without a trace eight months ago, and he intended to see her. The destructive driver behind her was a warning that life was going to be a bit rougher for a while. But she had braved rough times before, and she had no doubt she could do it again.
Dreadfully anxious to be rid of the vehicle that seemed bent on driving right through her, she made a sharp turn onto a quieter
street and breathed a shaky sigh of relief that she could drive the rest of the way in peace.
But a quick glance in the rearview mirror told her the Bronco was still behind her. Her pulse accelerated as the first light of understanding dawned on her. The Bronco was following her.
Driving fast enough to keep a car’s distance between them, Sherry strained to make out the driver. A man—no, two men—sat silhouetted against the sun descending at their backs. The driver’s shoulders were squared with determination as he drove, and the passenger sat slumped against the door in a pose of utter boredom. An instant of panic surged through her, and her chest constricted with air that couldn’t find its way out.
Making another quick turn while she held her breath, Sherry watched in her mirror as the Bronco barreled around the corner after her, the sun no longer making opaque shadows out of her pursuers. The driver’s hair flapped into his face from the hard wind at his window, and she watched a hand come up to push it back into place. It was dark hair, full and tapering back from his face, and against the light through his back window she could see the slightest hint of curl.
She made another turn as the panic coiling in the pit of her stomach became more pronounced. The sun was blazing toward her now, and without slowing her speed, she held up a hand to shade her eyes and glanced in the mirror again, hoping to glimpse his features and report him to the police. Sherry clutched the steering wheel more tightly as she waited for the bright glare to slide off the windshield and give her a clear view of his face as they rounded a curve. The open collar of the driver’s shirt flapped against his neck and a ray of sunlight caught a strip of gold draping down from his throat, illuminating it like the razor edge of a knife aimed at her. Some familiar pain stabbed her heart and she released her breath in a rush. The gold chain … the engagement gift she had given him …
“No,” she said aloud before her imagination carried her away. It wasn’t him. It was just the knowledge that he was back that had made her heart conjure up images.