Shattered

  Cover image Broken I © 2006 Katherine Laws

  Cover design copyrighted 2006 by Covenant Communications, Inc.

  Published by Covenant Communications, Inc.

  American Fork, Utah

  Copyright © 2006 by C. K. Bailey

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any format or in any medium without the written permission of the publisher, Covenant Communications, Inc., P.O. Box 416, American Fork, UT 84003. This work is not an official publication of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. The views expressed within this work are the sole responsibility of the author and do not necessarily reflect the position of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, Covenant Communications, Inc., or any other entity.

  This is a work of fiction. The characters, names, incidents, places, and dialogue are products of the author’s imagination, and are not to be construed as real.

  ISBN 1-59811-067-5

  Dedicated to Susan for her unwavering strength in holding to the truth.

  And to those who have suffered loss and are searching for peace.

  Acknowledgments

  Thank you to Lane, my husband and best friend, and to our children for their incredible support and patience.

  Also, many thanks to Gerald for his willingness in answering all my questions, and to Betty and Duane for encouraging me to fulfill my dreams.

  I would also like to express my appreciation to my editor, Angela. Without her diligence, enthusiasm, and talent, I would not be published.

  Prologue

  Despite the below-freezing temperature, sweat poured through Kenny’s shirt beneath his coat. Was he getting sick or was it just nerves? he wondered. He couldn’t think clearly, not with Greg goading him. “C’mon, you gotta do it! You can’t back out now!”

  Kenny sank deeper into the snow-filled ditch beneath the hill. “How come there’s so many of them? It’s only been one guy before. I bet they have guns.”

  Greg stuck his head above their shelter, glancing at the black sedans and the dozen men in dark coats. They were smoking cigarettes and laughing. “Doesn’t matter how many there are. You back out now and it’s both our necks!” Greg said.

  “You got my money? I haven’t seen the money!” Kenny snapped.

  “You get the money after the delivery. You know that. Now go!”

  Kenny drew in a deep breath and stood up slowly. He climbed out of the ditch and worked his way through a hole in the chain-link fence. He concentrated on his breathing as the men began to take notice of him. Each of them simultaneously unbuttoned his coat and placed one hand gently inside and rested it there. They’ve got guns all right. I should’ve gone to school. This is the last delivery I do for this guy. I should never’ve gotten into this mess. Kenny took in his surroundings as he continued reluctantly toward the group. He’d watched enough movies to know that somewhere there had to be men on the lookout for cops. The railroad yard had been closed for years. Kenny spied several rust-covered trash cans in the distance. There were bodies huddled around them. A spark of light could be seen every few seconds, no doubt the homeless trying to start a fire in an effort to keep warm. Don’t they see these guys here? I’d be gone if I were them.

  “Hey, kid—you lost?”

  Kenny wasn’t sure which dark coat the voice came from, so he just stared straight ahead. “Nope. Got a delivery to make.”

  “Well, then, get on with it. We’re gettin’ tired of bein’ in this miserable weather.” Sleet began its descent as he waved Kenny on.

  Kenny maneuvered past two men standing at the rear of the car. There was an unexpected jerking from inside the car, drawing Kenny’s eyes to the movement. The brawny man who appeared to be Kenny’s contact directed Kenny’s face back to him, but not before Kenny had taken a look inside. Wide, frightened eyes and a duct-taped mouth stared back until another man in the car moved forward.

  “Hey, you mind your business now, boy. If you got something for me, you’d better be getting to it.” Kenny’s contact placed his muscular frame in front of the window.

  Kenny removed a small pouch from inside his layers. It was moist now from sweat. He tossed it to the man and turned around, slowly making his way back to the fence.

  The large man leaned in as the passenger window was rolled down. Kenny could hear muffled voices, and then someone called him. He kept moving; he knew that was the rule—no matter what, keep moving.

  “Hey, kid! I’m talkin’ to you. Now get back here!”

  Kenny picked up his pace. He was certain that he could outrun most of them if he could just get through that fence and into the woods. His eyes barely focused on the waving arms before him. What was Greg saying? Kenny couldn’t hear him over his own breathing. His heart was racing. Then the sound of a shot pierced his ears. He’d heard gunshots on TV before, but never in real life. The sound surprised him; it was nothing like on TV. Were the shots directed at him? Kenny ran as fast as he could on the snow-covered ground. He could hear engines roaring behind him. Where is Greg? Did he leave me? He decided not to look back and focused on the fence instead. Don’t freeze up. Just keep moving, he warned himself. He repeated those words all through the woods and into town.

  CHA­PT­­ER­ 1

  Beth Moon said good-bye to her son as he left for school. It had been several weeks since they’d had a real conversation. Something was wrong, well, something else was wrong, she amended. He’d never been the same since his brother’s death, but lately it was more. Fear at remembering Patrick’s death filled her, and she decided to confront Kenny as soon as he came home from school. She passed the day in anxiety, but Kenny wouldn’t have anything to do with talking when he got home from school. He walked past his mother, ignoring her request, and went straight to his room. Shutting the door, he dropped his backpack on the floor and sat at his computer. He flipped it on, opened a file, and began to write:

  12-18-2004

  Greg’s missing. I found out Dad’s on the missing-persons case for him and that guy I saw in the car. He was some kind of accountant. I’ve thought about telling Dad what I’ve been doing, but he’d kill me. I’d be ratting Greg out, too. He’s got to be hiding somewhere. Why doesn’t he call me? I’d go with him. I saw Thornton’s cars around school today. Are they after me?

  “Kenny? Are you coming to dinner?” Beth called up the stairs.

  “No, Mom. I’m not hungry. Ate a lot at school,” Kenny called back.

  “I rented that movie you’ve been wanting to watch. Thought we could do that tonight.”

  “I’m really tired, Mom. Maybe another time.”

  When his mother didn’t insist, Kenny spent the next few hours locked in his room. He fell asleep leaning against his headboard, thinking about what he’d gotten himself into.

  * * *

  12-19-2004

  Still no Greg. Jen says he’s dead since he hasn’t shown up. But what does she know? She never liked him anyway. She doesn’t always understand me. He can’t be dead. He said those guys weren’t dangerous, just greedy. Why would they kill Greg anyway? Doesn’t make sense. It’s Christmas break now. I don’t want to leave the house. I lost the one car following me on my way to Jen’s today. I don’t know how long I can dodge them. Why are they after me?

  * * *

  12-20-2004

  They found Greg’s body in the river. The other guy’s too. They were found by ice fishermen. Those shots I heard—it was Greg! I can’t believe he’s dead. He said they weren’t dangerous! They know I saw that guy in the car. I can’t tell Mom or Dad. Dad’ll just say I’m making it up to get attention. And if he did believe me, he’ll say I don’t have enough evidence. And Mom will just freak. I have to get out of here earlier than planned.

  * * *

 
“I’m not going anywhere, and you can’t make me!” Kenny barked at his mother.

  Beth remained calm. “We’ve been over this. You haven’t been speaking to me. You won’t leave your room. You won’t see your friends. You need to get out, son.”

  “Don’t have any friends.”

  “You’ve canceled with your dad three times, Kenny. It’s almost Christmas. You’ve got to go this time.”

  “No.”

  “Is it the boy that died at school? Did you know him?”

  “Leave it alone, Mom. I’m not going with Dad, and you can’t make me. I don’t want to see him!” Kenny spun on his heels and darted from the small, antiquated kitchenette. Beth heard the door to his room slam. She turned off the flame under the half-done pancakes and slumped into the nearest chair.

  The shrill sound of a siren disturbed the momentary silence. Here we go, she thought irritably.

  “Hey Beth, you in there?”

  “Yes, Michael, it’s open.”

  “Where’s Kenny? Didn’t you hear the siren?”

  “Do you think you could honk like normal people?” Before he retorted, she quickly changed direction. “Sorry, he’s in his room. He’s not . . . he’s hesitant, Michael.”

  “Oh, that’s b—”

  Beth cut him off. “You may not—”

  “Swear in this house. Yeah, yeah, I know.” Michael’s face reflected the agitation that had become a common expression of late. “That kid’s always hesitant. I’ll go get him,” he said, pounding his way up to the second floor.

  Beth’s eyes followed Michael up the stairs. Michael Moon was a large man, six feet and two hundred fifty-five pounds. There was no mistaking his Italian heritage. He had a head of thick, wavy black hair and a showy mustache. His hard, unapproachable look kept most people at bay.

  “Hey, son, open up. Got the car runnin’.” Michael waited, listening at the door for signs of life. None came.

  “Aw, come on, son. Look, it’ll be better this time. I promise. Janice and the girls are with their grandma, like I promised. It’s just you and me this weekend.”

  The lack of response came loud at his ears. “Open this door now, boy, or I’ll be swearin’ so loud your mom’ll pop us both!” Michael pushed at the door, immediately noticing at least a week’s worth of dirty clothes on the floor.

  His visual search switched to “cop mode” as he made a slower and more complete assessment of the room. “Beth? He ain’t in here!” Perplexity twisted his voice.

  “Isn’t, Michael. Ain’t isn’t the best . . . What? What do you mean he’s not in there?” Beth raced up the stairs, which was definitely out of character for her since the addition of an extra fifty pounds—her answer to dealing with the divorce two years earlier. “Well, where is he?”

  “If I knew that, I wouldn’t be yellin’ for ya.”

  “Oh stop it. Did you look in the bathroom? Or are you just standing there waiting for him to jump out at you?”

  Michael bit his lip. He would not lose control. He’d already received three warnings this month from his police chief regarding his temper. He knew a fourth could get him suspended, even if it was just his ex-wife complaining.

  “Kenny? Kenny?” Michael and Beth began calling throughout the house.

  “His bike is gone,” Beth yelled up from the back porch moments later.

  “His bike’s gone? It’s snowing like snot out there,” said Michael.

  Beth sighed. Michael’s gift for metaphors certainly wasn’t what she’d been attracted to.

  * * *

  “What in the Sam Hill?” The older man’s vision was blurred by the swirling powder, but he was certain he had seen a red bundle of something off to the side of the road. And then there was that feeling of unease. He had learned over his many years to trust that feeling. He eased off the accelerator, letting the truck roll to a stop. Gently he set the vehicle into reverse, knowing full well that if he got stuck he wouldn’t be getting out anytime soon. He hadn’t rolled back ten feet when he again spotted the anomaly. Nothing red belonged here on this road, especially in snow this deep. He set the brake and climbed out into a wall of white, his hand sheltering his squinting eyes.

  “Stupid blizzard. Weatherman said it wasn’t comin’ till after Christmas. Not sure why they even have such people. Half the time they’re wrong, and the other half they’re just plain lucky.”

  Gramps had always had an excellent sense of direction, and he figured it was a good thing right now because he couldn’t see anything. For a split second he considered getting down on all fours and going by feel. But just as he did, a noise stirred his senses. He turned his head slightly, listening. It came again, this time sounding more like a moan. He quickened his pace. It wasn’t far.

  Moments later he’d pulled the red clump out of the snowdrift. “All right, now I gotcha.” Gramps’s eyelids were already frozen. He carried his find over his shoulder and slowly made his way back to the truck. Intuition told him another few minutes and he wouldn’t have been able to get out. The drifts were piling high.

  * * *

  “Ryan, you’re soaked!” Jessie Winston said as she guided her drenched friend into the front room of his grandfather’s cabin.

  “The weatherman said a few flakes,” Ryan Blake said, slamming the door and shutting the blizzard out.

  “Where’s your truck?” Jessie asked, looking through the snow-frosted front window.

  “It’s about a half mile back. I don’t even know if I was still driving on the road. Couldn’t see a thing, so I started walking. It’s a wonder I found you. If I hadn’t plowed my face into the mailbox, looked up, and seen light, I doubt I’d be here. Where’s Gramps?”

  “He was gone when I got here. We had a date to play cards. When I couldn’t find him, I called your place. He was there. The connection died after a few seconds, but he managed to get out that he was checking on the horses and was planning on bedding down for the night. I’d better find you something dry to put on. I’m not sure if your grandfather owns anything other than overalls, but I’ll see what I can dig up.” Jessie disappeared down the hall.

  Ryan took off his coat and gloves and draped them over a chair close to the fireplace.

  With Christmas less than a week away, wreaths and greenery with red bows outlined the walls of the country home that used to be his great-aunt’s and was now his grandfather’s. Red, white, and green stuffed animals of all assortments and sizes were nestled into every corner. Cinnamon-smelling pinecones in baskets had been placed on the hearth. Jessie’s been busy, he mused. This is obviously not Gramps’s work. All that’s missing is a tree and some mistletoe.

  “Here, these ought to work.” Jessie handed Ryan a bath towel and a pair of large gray sweatpants and a sweatshirt. “Leave your things in the bathroom and I’ll throw them in the dryer. I’ll be in the kitchen finishing my hot chocolate. You want some? I found marshmallows.”

  “Sounds great.”

  Jessie returned with two mugs of mint-flavored hot chocolate. Ryan was bent over, adding logs to the fire. “Here you go,” she said, allowing herself only a brief glance at his six-foot-plus muscular frame. She’d tried, but finally realized she couldn’t keep up with his daily regimen of working out in an indoor gym and running five miles a day. She considered herself lucky if she didn’t faint after two push-ups.

  “Thanks,” Ryan replied.

  “I tried Gramps again. The line was fuzzy, but he knows you’re here. He wanted to know if I needed a chaperone. I assured him you’d be a perfect gentleman.” Jessie’s eyebrows rose slightly. “He said if you weren’t, he’d rough you up so bad no one would recognize you!”

  “Yeah, he would. I’ll be a good boy,” Ryan teased.

  “How come you’re here a day early? Not that it’s any of my business, really. It’s just that, well, you are here, and it seems like the logical thing to ask.” She quickly filled her mouth with the hot liquid, embarrassed by her obvious nervousness.

  Rya
n’s lips formed a slight smile as he looked down at the steam rising from his cup. He figured that, after all these months, Jessie had to know how much she meant to him and that everything concerning him was her business. But she was still holding back. Unlike him, she hadn’t brought herself to verbalize her love—and he didn’t want to push her. He tried to give her the space she felt she needed. “I decided it was time to be ‘home for the holidays.’ I worked through the last few years of Christmases. I knew you’d come out here to take care of Gramps, but it isn’t actually your responsibility, now is it?” Ryan held Jessie’s gaze before her eyes fell to her cradled cup.

  “Well, we’d have managed. But I know that your being here will mean a lot. He’s missing Ruth. He’s putting up a good front after all these months, but he sits so forlornly in her old rocker, staring off into the fields.”

  Jessie, too, had grown fond of Gramps’s sister, and missed her terribly. She’d only known the woman a few weeks before she’d died from a stroke. But in those few weeks, she’d learned a great deal from her. Ruth had invited Jessie to stay with her last summer while the home Jessie had bought was being remodeled. Ruth welcomed her, a stranger, into her home without judgment. It was at Ruth’s that Jessie had discovered what she wanted out of life, and it was at Ruth’s that she’d found the Book of Mormon.

  * * *

  “Look, Lieutenant, no disrespect or nothin’, but fifteen-year-old kids get mad and take off all the time, you know? He’s probably just at some neighbor’s or friend’s. Who’s he hang out with? Have you called them?”

  The expression on Michael Moon’s face suggested this newbie didn’t understand that asking his lieutenant an ignorant question would not earn him a quick promotion. “Well garsh darn, Beth.” Michael’s drawl was overly pronounced. “There you go. Why didn’t we think of that? Call his friends. Now there’s an idea.” His hands were waving in the air in mock concern.

  “Calm down, Michael. He’s only trying to help.” Beth returned to her position at the kitchenette.