Chapter Thirty-nine
Jackson Higgins will be taken care of.
Frank had texted Ryan from an unmarked phone with that cryptic message late Friday night. It was now after eleven a.m. Saturday morning, and he was munching on his second bowl of Cheerios.
Ryan shuddered. What did taken care of mean? He knew he didn’t want Jackson dead, but there were so many other sinister scenarios. Though he had erased the text, the words were seared into his brain.
He jammed his spoon into the bowl. Stop thinking about that. Think about the millions of dollars. Think about your reputation. Think about anything but Jackson Higgins’s sick wife.
He hadn’t been able to. Ryan had stressed over those words all weekend long. He pretended to be asleep when Patricia left for church. Ryan couldn’t attend services and clap his hands while knowing that on Monday he was going to ruin an innocent man.
Brian strolled into the kitchen dressed in a charcoal grey suit and dark blue shirt.
“Where are you going?”
“To church.”
Ryan arched an eyebrow. “I didn’t know you would ever step foot in a church.”
Brian stared at him. “What? Did you think I was too much of a heathen to be reached? Well, I’ve got news for you. Sometimes when you won’t go to God, He comes to you.”
Ryan nodded at the profound statement. “No, you caught me off guard because I’ve invited you so many times and you always had a million and one excuses. So I figured I’d leave you alone. Stop asking.”
Brian retrieved a bowl from the cupboard and milk from the fridge. Ryan pushed the cereal in his direction. Brian thanked him and prepared his cereal.
“Well, you might have stopped asking, but Karlie never did,” Brian said. “Then again, she’s for real about God. You can’t be around her and not see Him.”
Ryan recognized the jab. “I wish you would hate me or love me because this”—he swung his hands between them—“is torture. If you’re going to be around me, stop needling me.”
Brian dropped his spoon onto the tabletop and hunched over the small round table. “You’re a phony. You’re not a man of God, and I’m going to prove it.”
“Wait a minute. Have you been snooping around my stuff?” Ryan narrowed his eyes. He had noticed a few things out of place in his office but dismissed it to paranoia.
“No. I have better things to do with my time.” Brian scraped his chair back and stood. “If you’ll excuse me, I just lost my appetite.”
Ryan held up a hand. “No, son. Please, don’t go. I’m sorry I messed up what could be our first decent conversation.” He pointed to the chair Brian had vacated. “Please.”
“Fine, but one more negative word and I’m gone. I’m not trying to enter God’s house upset.”
Ryan nodded.
Brian cautiously slid into his chair to resume eating. “So, how come you’re not at church?”
There was no way he could tell his son the truth. “I overslept. I think it might be allergies or something.”
Brian wrinkled his nose. “Yes, it’s the season. I don’t remember you being plagued with it, though.”
Ryan forced himself not to look like a deer caught in the headlights and tried to keep his voice calm. “True, but it can start at any age and once it does . . .” He stuffed his mouth with the last of his cereal. He figured if he were chewing, he wouldn’t need to be talking.
Brian wolfed down his breakfast and glanced at his watch. “I’ve got to get out of here or I’ll miss Neil’s sermon.” He gathered both of their bowls.
“No, leave them. I’ll put them in the dishwasher.”
Brian thanked him and rushed off, leaving Ryan alone
with his thoughts. He gazed at the empty doorway. Maybe he should visit Neil’s church today. The only reason he hadn’t visited was because of Karlie. But now that the secret was out . . .
No, he wasn’t trying to interfere with Karlie’s praise. Besides, Neil might cause a scene.
Ryan slouched. Rubbing his chin, he wondered how he had transformed into the wimpy guy hiding out at home from God when God was everywhere. It was stupid. God’s conscience worked inside and outside of church.
The Holy Spirit still urged him to back out of his plans against Jackson, but again, Ryan disobeyed. He placed the dirty dishes in the dishwasher, dressed in the master bedroom, and headed to work. He often worked on Sundays, but this was the first Saturday he had worked in months. He needed to keep busy.
It was his only hope of drowning out the voice of God.
He was knee-deep in taking care of business when the call came. When he said hello, all Ryan heard was, “It’s done.”
Ryan ended the call.
It’s done.