Breaker''s Reef

  “Aren’t I? I’m the one who set you up! When you came by the florist that Saturday to buy the flowers for your proposal, I heard you telling my dad your plans.”

  Cade moved closer, trying to keep him talking. “So you took Jamie out to Breaker’s Reef?”

  “No! I didn’t. But I told Nate, and he did it. He thought it would throw everybody off, and he got all excited about implicating the chief of police. All I did was hack into Gibson’s computer to make him look guilty too. I figured the more suspects there were, the less likely they were to trace any of it to me.”

  As he spoke, Matt moved the gun’s barrel to his throat. Cade moved two steps closer.

  “You did a good job. We never traced it back to you. The initials SC threw us off.”

  “Scott Crown.” Matt’s smile was bitter. “He deserved it. Going after Sadie when she was vulnerable …”

  So that was it. Matt wasn’t the innocent victim he imagined himself to be. He’d used the deadly situation to his advantage.

  “You’ve made things hard for yourself, Matt, but you can overcome it. Drop the gun. Just drop the gun.”

  As Cade came closer, Matt lowered the gun …

  … then tossed it to the floor.

  Cade went for it, as Matt dove into the water.

  Cade ran to the railing, looked over into the surf. Matt was swimming out toward the deep … straight toward the Coast Guard boats speeding toward them. Within minutes, they had surrounded him, and divers went in and apprehended him, pulling him out of the water and into the boat where he was restrained.

  Cade breathed a sigh of relief. It was over.

  He wiped the sweat on his forehead and turned to shake McCormick’s hand. “Good going, guys,” he said to the other officers.

  He looked through the crowd of police officers, and at the entrance to the pier, saw his bride in her wedding dress and veil, snapping pictures with a big, clunky camera he’d never seen before. She was working, he thought with a grin. Recording the story for her paper, intent on getting the scoop. Did she plan on spending their wedding night getting out a special edition?

  Oh, no. Not if he could help it.

  He straightened his tie, raked back his hair, and cut through the people. “Excuse me, everybody. Mrs. Cade and I have some business to attend to.”

  Before Blair could protest, he swept her off her feet. She laughed and put one arm around his neck, thrusting the camera at Jonathan. “Get this, Jonathan. It’ll make a great front-page shot.”

  Cade laughed and kept walking until he reached the police car where Scott Crown stood. “Give us a ride back to our wedding?”

  Crown laughed. “Sure thing, Chief. I’d be honored.”

  McCormick rushed ahead, opened the back door, and Cade set Blair down, got in, and pulled her onto his lap. “We’ll take it from here, Cade.” McCormick’s grin almost split his face. “Don’t you worry about a thing.”

  Scott turned on his siren and lights and made his way the mile or so back down Ocean Boulevard, followed by Blair’s car with Jonathan and Morgan, until he got to Hanover House where the guests waited.

  “So …” Blair looked down into Cade’s eyes. “Tell me every little thing Matt said. I couldn’t get close enough to hear.”

  Cade grinned. “When I’m ready to call a press conference, you’ll be the first to know.”

  The guests cheered as Scott pulled his car around the barricade and up onto the Hanover House lawn.

  Cade got out of the car, pulling Blair with him. “Everything’s under control now. The perpetrator has been arrested and is in custody. Now, I intend to celebrate my vows.”

  Applause rippled over the crowd as the string quartet began to play again. Cade pulled Blair into a kiss. “I love you, Mrs. Cade.”

  Her smile burst with joy. “I love you too. I think I’ve always loved you.”

  “Dance with me?”

  She took his hand and let him pull her close, and they began to dance their first dance as husband and wife. Everyone around them seemed to fade out of mind. It was just the two of them.

  “What a perfect day.” Blair sighed. “A wedding and a crime solved in the space of an hour. And pictures, to boot.”

  “Stick with me, baby, and your life will never be dull.”

  Their laughter rose on the breeze, making their witnesses smile.

  And Cade felt the pleasure of the greatest Witness of all, smiling down on the union He had created.

  AFTERWORD

  I wish I were the kind of person who had lived life according to God’s best plan for me, but my free will got in the way so many times, leaving me with a series of regrets that rear their ugly heads with hair-trigger consistency. I read the words that Paul wrote in Philippians 3:13-14—“But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus.” And yet, I find myself constantly looking in my rearview mirror, working through the things I should have done, wondering how different things would be if I had.

  I judge the paths I took and the decisions I made with the critical eye of a prosecutor determined to win the case, indicting myself, convicting, and executing all at once. I run through my parenting mistakes with the skill of a DA. I was too lenient, too strict; spoiled them too much, deprived them of what they needed; I was naive, I was suspicious, I let them have too much freedom, I didn’t give them enough. And then there’s my divorce, and my writing, and the people I’ve offended or hurt, or those I failed to validate or acknowledge …

  I wake up nights and file through these things in my mind, asking God how He could ever forgive me for any of them, when compared to so many good people I know, I’m such a wretch. How can God use a loser like me? How can He count on my lazy, slow-learning spirit?

  My friend Nell has the same thoughts late at night when she lies awake on the six-inch mattress provided by the county’s Department of Corrections. She’s been in jail on drug charges for fourteen years, since her children were small. They’ve grown up without their mother. If anyone has a right to regrets, she does.

  She looks thirteen months ahead, to the date of her release, and knows that she won’t be able to step right back into her family and her life. She can’t get back the years her drug abuse cost her. But during the time that she’s been imprisoned, she’s learned of Christ’s forgiveness and has been discipled and mentored by people who love her because Christ loves her. Her faith has had time to grow deep roots, and she’s become something of a missionary among her cell mates.

  She looks back on the last fourteen years and thanks God for all the suffering and the lessons she’s learned, for it’s given her a new life and transformed her into a new person. Instead of throwing up her hands as her children have grown up without her, she prays earnestly for them and shares Scripture with them on the phone. During occasional visits, she talks to them of the things the Lord is doing in her life. She looks forward to the day when her sons will marry and have children of their own. “I didn’t get to raise my boys,” she says, “but I’ll be the best grandmother you’ve ever seen!”

  Nell has learned the lessons of pressing on and not looking back. She’s a poignant example for me.

  The apostle Peter learned this lesson too. After the Passover meal that we often call Christ’s Last Supper, Jesus looked at Peter. “Simon, Simon,” he said, “behold, Satan has demanded permission to sift you like wheat; but I have prayed for you, that your faith may not fail; and you, when once you have turned again, strengthen your brothers” (Luke 22:31-32 NASB).

  Peter didn’t know that in just a few hours, he would betray Christ three times. But Jesus knew. And don’t you know that Jesus’ words played through his mind over and over for the rest of his life? Jesus had told him—before the betrayal—that he would mess up, but when he repented, it would be time to move on and fulfill his calling. Jesus didn’t say, “Peter, you are going to really blow it a f
ew hours from now. You’re going to turn tail and run, and then you’re going to lie through your teeth about even knowing me. And it’s a shame, because you had a lot of potential, but you’ll be of no use to me then.” Instead, He anticipated Peter’s sincere repentance and reminded him that his calling would still be there when he came back. And for two thousand years, Peter has strengthened his brothers through his writings in the New Testament, and reminded us that you can’t move forward if you’re always looking back.

  I realize that God is in control of the universe, that the mistakes in my past, while dramatic to me, did not ruin God’s plan beyond repair. God is sovereign, and His plans cannot be thwarted by someone like me. He can fill in the blanks of my mistakes, teaching my children what I failed to teach, restoring what I destroyed, rebuilding what I tore down, redeeming what I sold away.

  And He tells me to stop looking back, to press on toward the prize … He knew my mistakes before I ever made them, yet He still planned to use me anyway. He didn’t see me as The Great Loser, but as someone uniquely gifted with something to be used in His kingdom work. Where I see myself as a disappointment, He sees me as an asset. He already knows the fruit I will bear for Him, and my future is on His mind so much more than my past.

  If He can see me that way, why wouldn’t I want to press on toward that goal, and wave good-bye to my fragmented, imperfect past? The future is so much brighter in Christ, and I have so many sisters and brothers who need strengthening.

  Thank You, Lord, for seeing my potential instead of my past.

  LAST

  LIGHT

  BOOK ONE OF THE RESTORATION SERIES

  TERRI BLACKSTOCK

  CHAPTER

  ONE

  Deni Branning took the last steps down from the commuter plane and pulled out the handle of her rolling carryon. She glanced back up at her dad coming down behind her. He had struck up a conversation with the man who’d sat next to him. Doug Branning had never met a stranger, which accounted for his success as a stockbroker. He’d snagged some of his best clients on flights like this.

  The oppressive Birmingham humidity settled over her like a heavy coat. It’s temporary, she told herself. She wouldn’t have to spend the summer here. Just one week, and then it was back to DC, her new job, and the fiancé she’d dreamed of for all of her twenty-two years. Yes, it was hot in the nation’s capital too, and probably just as humid. But its fast-paced importance made it easier to bear.

  As her father reached the bottom step, his small bag clutched in his hand, the loud hum of the plane’s engine went silent. A sudden, eerie quiet settled over the place, as if someone had turned down the volume on all the machinery around them. The conveyor belt purging the cargo bin of its luggage stopped. The carts dragging the luggage carriers stalled.

  She smelled something burning.

  Her father clutched his bag and looked back at the plane. “What happened?”

  Deni didn’t answer. Her eyes were on the airport employees yelling to each other about a power outage.

  And then, from the corner of her eye, she saw a plane descending too steeply from the sky, torpedoing toward the runway. “Dad—”

  The word was barely out of her mouth when the plane shattered into the runway and went tumbling wildly across the pavement.

  Deni screamed, and the employees took off running toward the plane as it spun into a building.

  The plane exploded, and ripples of heat knocked the passengers back from several hundred feet away. Doug grabbed her and pulled her to her knees. “Stay down, honey!”

  But she wanted to look. She struggled to see through the shield of his arms. The fire devoured the broken fuselage. She imagined the people inside that plane, crawling over each other in a desperate effort to escape, slowly perishing in the murderous heat.

  Her father got up and pulled her to her feet. “Come on, we’re going inside!”

  She looked back, feeling the heat on her face.

  “Now, Deni!”

  “Dad, the people! They’re burning. Somebody has to get them out!”

  “They’re trying.” He grabbed up her suitcase, and she followed him up the steps that took them into the terminal.

  They were greeted by darkness.

  They ran into the arriving gate where a window provided some light. A crowd of people were clustered around it, watching the plane burn.

  Doug headed for two Delta employees who stood talking with intense urgency. “Where are the fire trucks?” he asked them. “Has anybody called them?”

  “The phones aren’t working. Everything’s out.”

  He grabbed his cell phone out of his pocket, and Deni watched him try to dial 911. But the phone was dead. “My battery must have lost its charge. Try yours, Deni.”

  She dug her phone out of her purse and hit the on button. There was no readout, nothing indicating it had any power. Had both their batteries died on the plane?

  She looked back out the window. The plane continued to burn … engulfed in a conflagration that wouldn’t be quenched. Helpless airport employees stood back from the fire, looking around for help. Someone had pulled out a fire extinguisher and was shooting white foam, but it was like squirting a water pistol at a towering inferno.

  Deni thought of herself and her dad, sitting among all those passengers just moments ago. It could have been them out there, trapped in a burning metal coffin.

  She gritted her teeth and pounded her fists on the window. “Where are the stupid fire trucks?”

  Doug’s whisper was helpless, horrified. “I don’t know.”

  She watched the chaos on the tarmac as employees ran in different directions, looking confused and defeated, shouting and gesturing wildly for help.

  She heard the sound of another plane coming in, loud and urgent, and the people standing near her began to scream and hit the floor as that plane shot in, descending too fast, too steep …

  She couldn’t watch as it hit the ground, but she heard the deafening sound of another crash, felt the impact shake the building. Screams crescendoed …

  Shivering in terror, she looked up. The plane was spinning and tumbling across the grass separating the runways.

  “Daddy!” She looked up at him, saw the tears on his face, the horror in his eyes. She followed his gaze to the sky. Was something shooting the planes down? Were there more to come? Deni slipped her hand into his and felt his trembling. For the first time in her life, she was aware of her father’s fear. And though his strong, confident grip held her tight, she knew that everything had changed.

  CHAPTER

  TWO

  Doug Branning’s mind raced to solve the problems—planes falling out of the sky, crashing, burning, people dying … There was a power outage, but that wouldn’t have caused planes to crash. Maybe there was some kind of battle going on in the air that they couldn’t see. If someone was shooting the planes down, maybe they’d also knocked out the power on the ground. Was it some kind of terrorist attack? An ambush by a hostile nation?

  In all his uncertainty, he knew one thing. He had to get his daughter to safety. The airport felt like a target for whatever evil hovered above them. He put his arm around Deni and pulled her from the window. He hoped she couldn’t feel his trembling. “Come on, Deni, we’re getting out of here.”

  For once in her life, she was compliant as he pulled her up the long dark hall, past the empty gates. Several Delta ground clerks came running past them.

  “Excuse me,” he called out. “Can anyone tell me what’s going on?”

  “Power’s out,” one of them called back. “Nothing’s working.”

  “Did the planes crash because the tower’s electricity is down?”

  “May have. We can’t say for sure.”

  But that didn’t make sense. Didn’t pilots have emergency procedures for situations like this? Couldn’t they land the planes without an air traffic controller talking them through it?

  He walked Deni past another window and saw the ba
lls of fire, still burning. The other plane hadn’t caught fire, and men rushed toward it, fighting to get the door open. Still no fire trucks had come.

  “Dad, this is insane. How could a power outage cause planes to crash?”

  “Maybe it’s the other way around.” As he thought out loud, he realized that didn’t bear up. The power had shut down before the crashes. That’s why things went quiet. He’d heard their own plane’s engine power off at the same time that everything else stopped. The luggage belt, the maintenance cars …

  Clearly, there was nothing they could do for the poor souls on the planes. Dozens of people were at the second plane now, but they couldn’t seem to get inside. Grimly, he realized they had all probably died in the impact. How could anyone have survived?

  “Let’s go to the car.” Still carrying Deni’s suitcase, he headed to the exit. “Maybe we can get a signal on our phones after we leave the airport, and call your mother. She’s probably heard about it on the news and can tell us what’s happening.”

  She followed him at a trot. He reached the front door, but it didn’t open.

  “Power’s out, Dad, remember?”

  He turned and found a manual door. As they pushed through it, he was struck with the silence in the street. There were no cars moving through, and the security guards were probably helping the rescue effort. They hurried across the street into the big parking garage. They’d parked on the fourth level, but the elevators weren’t working, so they found the stairs and trudged up.

  They were soaked with sweat by the time they reached their level and made their way to his new Mercedes. Doug used the remote on his key chain to pop the lock on the trunk, but when he got to the car, the trunk was still closed. Jabbing the key into the lock, he opened it. Quickly, he loaded their two bags, slammed the trunk, then manually unlocked his car door and got in. Deni knocked on the passenger window.

  He frowned at the door lock. The power locks weren’t working—how could that be? The power outage couldn’t extend to his car, could it? He leaned across the leather seat, and opened the passenger door.