He tried to make it right. When the dust settles, I want to talk to Jay myself.”
“That would mean so much to him, Mama.” Abby nestled closer. “You can’t imagine how bad he feels.”
“I wonder if Isaiah’s ever gonna tell us what he did with Daddy’s body,” Hawk said.
Kate shuddered. That monster had threatened to feed Abby, Jay, and Riley Jo to his pigs. Did she want to know the truth?
“I think we oughta leave that to the sheriff for now,” Grandpa Buck said, almost as if he could read Kate’s mind. “Micah’s spirit’s with the Lord. We should dwell on that. That’s what he’d want us to do.”
Kate nodded. “He would.” Not that she was confident that his spirit lived on. Or that heaven existed.
Abby looked over at Kate. “Mama, God did answer my prayers—and Grandpa’s and Jesse’s. He brought Riley Jo back to us.”
“But not your father.”
“And we’ll never know why,” Abby said. “But I felt God’s hand on me the entire time we were being held captive. I wasn’t sure if I was going to live or die. But I felt His presence. It helped a lot. Maybe because I knew if I died, I’d be with Jesus.”
“Isaiah had free will,” Grandpa Buck said, “same as us. He’ll be held accountable for what he’s done.”
“That doesn’t help us now, though, does it?” Kate hated that she sounded combative.
Jesse got up, walked over to Kate, and cupped her cheeks in his hands. “Mama, God didn’t kill Daddy. Isaiah Tutt did it. And he’s not getting out of jail—ever. Riley Jo’s safe. Now you can be happy again.”
Kate was moved by Jesse’s sweet innocence and how much her sorrow must have weighed on him. “You’re right, sweetie. There’s a lot to be grateful for. We should concentrate on that.”
Kate smiled at her youngest son even as her insides churned. She was not about to give God credit for bringing Riley Jo home. Not when Abby came close to losing her life. As did Jay. And Hawk could just as easily have missed when he fired his rifle and become a victim too. It was the sacrifice of her older children that won the release of her youngest. As far as she could tell, God was nowhere to be found.
Chapter 31
Kate lay on her side, staring at the empty side of her bed. She had grieved Micah’s absence until she didn’t have a tear left. It hadn’t occurred to her that if the truth behind his disappearance was ever known, the gut-wrenching grief she had finally learned to manage would come back with a vengeance. How much more pain could she take before she simply shut down?
She blinked away the images that popped into her head of Micah fighting Isaiah to keep him from abducting Riley Jo. Did Micah agonize over his baby girl’s fate as he lay dying of a stab wound? Did he think of Kate? Did he regret that last argument as much as she did? Or did he just lose consciousness and slip away? Haunting questions with no answers.
She hugged her pillow, her mind wandering back to one of her most cherished memories …
Kate stood in the bleachers at the Foggy Ridge High School football stadium, snuggled up next to Micah. The September afternoon was crisp and sunny as the Foggy Ridge Bobcats went back into the locker room at halftime, leading by fourteen points, and the marching band filed onto the field. The stands were packed with students and alumni, all anticipating a big win followed by the homecoming dance that evening.
“Not much has changed in five years,” Micah said. “It almost feels as if we never left.”
“Other than these students seem really young.” Kate laughed. “Or is it just that we’re older?”
“A little of both, I guess. We sure have some great memories of this place.”
“There’s never been a homecoming game like our last one, when you carried the winning touchdown in that stunning defeat against Fayetteville.” Kate craned and spotted the floats pulling on to the track. “I’ll never forget the sight of you being swarmed by fans and carried off the field with everyone cheering wildly. You were everyone’s hero. But it wasn’t until the homecoming dance when the band sang ‘Endless Love’ that I realized I was falling in love with you.”
“I knew in the third grade.” Micah flashed a boyish grin. “When Jason Longmont dipped your braid in blue acrylic paint—and you chased him into the boy’s bathroom, wrestled him