help with projects and folks in need.”
“So you’re thinking I’m being bullheaded about this?”
“No. Well . . . maybe I am. You’re my friend and my hunting and fishing buddy. I want you open to whatever options are tossed in your path.”
Carr had been called stubborn a few times with an assortment of vivid adjectives thrown in. “All right. I’ll give him a call. Guess I’d rather talk to a fellow Christian about this than the attorney who specializes in contracts.”
“Would you like for me to come over?”
Carr considered Kent’s request. Did he really want to drag his friend and pastor through the fresh manure? “No thanks. And I appreciate the offer. If you’ll keep remembering me in your prayers, that would be great. The FBI has sent two agents to work on a task force investigation. Looks like a fugitive may be involved with the murders.”
“I saw that in the Abilene newspaper. Brandt Richardson is wanted for several murders. He used to live in these parts, but as far as I know, he and his wife haven’t been seen in about twelve years.”
“I’m going to ask some questions of my own once the meeting is over downstairs.”
“Okay, bud. From where I’m at, looks like you could use peace, guidance, strength, wisdom—for both you and the investigators—and an end to this tragic set of circumstances.”
“Add comfort for Lydia and Jasper. And don’t forget the families of the victims. In fact, would you send out a prayer request for those families?” Carr thought about what he’d just said. “God has to be working hard in my life for me to be thinking about someone other than myself.”
“He’s in that business. I’d like to pray with you, but first I’d like to recommend a few passages of Scripture.”
“Sure. I need all the help I can get. Early this morning I thought of Valium and a bottle of Cutty Sark.” Carr reached for a small pad of paper inside his desk drawer. “I’m ready.”
“Start with 1 Peter 5, verses 6 through 10. When I’m down, these always help me put life into perspective. Then Psalm 23 and Psalm 139 are a good dose of reality. I also like Hebrews 11 to help me understand I’m not the only man in history who has been through hell.”
Carr finished jotting those down. Familiar passages, but powerful. “In the early hours of this morning, Lydia suggested I start a list of things I’m thankful for. Sounded like a childish assignment at first, but it’s starting to make sense. I’m ready for that prayer.”
* * *
Bella sat at the kitchen table in Carr Sullivan’s house, drinking his coffee and discussing a murder he’d probably committed. She doubted she’d be a model of congeniality if in the same situation. Sheriff Adams had a file in his hand, but she guessed she’d already seen most of the findings.
Back at the field office in Houston, the task force would be working shoulder to shoulder to solve the crime. The FBI, Houston police department, Field Intelligence Group, and in some instances the Secret Service would be in a conference room exchanging information. Here she met with Sheriff Adams and Vic.
“The ballistic report states the victims were shot from about five hundred feet, about the same distance as the stand of trees the shooter could have used to blow out my tires,” she said. “Looks like we have a marksman here. Anyone know Carr’s skill?” She directed her question at Sheriff Adams.
“He’s a fair shot. Nothing to brag about.” He jotted down something on a notepad. “He does some hunting with our pastor. I’ll find out and get back to you.”
Bella thanked him, appreciative of the extra step, considering his friendship with the suspect. “I’m wondering about vehicles at the scene. The shooter had to get there by some mode of transportation.”
“We found one set of tracks belonging to Professor Forrest Miller. The SUV is parked at the sheriff’s department and is in the middle of a complete sweep. So
“So you’re thinking I’m being bullheaded about this?”
“No. Well . . . maybe I am. You’re my friend and my hunting and fishing buddy. I want you open to whatever options are tossed in your path.”
Carr had been called stubborn a few times with an assortment of vivid adjectives thrown in. “All right. I’ll give him a call. Guess I’d rather talk to a fellow Christian about this than the attorney who specializes in contracts.”
“Would you like for me to come over?”
Carr considered Kent’s request. Did he really want to drag his friend and pastor through the fresh manure? “No thanks. And I appreciate the offer. If you’ll keep remembering me in your prayers, that would be great. The FBI has sent two agents to work on a task force investigation. Looks like a fugitive may be involved with the murders.”
“I saw that in the Abilene newspaper. Brandt Richardson is wanted for several murders. He used to live in these parts, but as far as I know, he and his wife haven’t been seen in about twelve years.”
“I’m going to ask some questions of my own once the meeting is over downstairs.”
“Okay, bud. From where I’m at, looks like you could use peace, guidance, strength, wisdom—for both you and the investigators—and an end to this tragic set of circumstances.”
“Add comfort for Lydia and Jasper. And don’t forget the families of the victims. In fact, would you send out a prayer request for those families?” Carr thought about what he’d just said. “God has to be working hard in my life for me to be thinking about someone other than myself.”
“He’s in that business. I’d like to pray with you, but first I’d like to recommend a few passages of Scripture.”
“Sure. I need all the help I can get. Early this morning I thought of Valium and a bottle of Cutty Sark.” Carr reached for a small pad of paper inside his desk drawer. “I’m ready.”
“Start with 1 Peter 5, verses 6 through 10. When I’m down, these always help me put life into perspective. Then Psalm 23 and Psalm 139 are a good dose of reality. I also like Hebrews 11 to help me understand I’m not the only man in history who has been through hell.”
Carr finished jotting those down. Familiar passages, but powerful. “In the early hours of this morning, Lydia suggested I start a list of things I’m thankful for. Sounded like a childish assignment at first, but it’s starting to make sense. I’m ready for that prayer.”
* * *
Bella sat at the kitchen table in Carr Sullivan’s house, drinking his coffee and discussing a murder he’d probably committed. She doubted she’d be a model of congeniality if in the same situation. Sheriff Adams had a file in his hand, but she guessed she’d already seen most of the findings.
Back at the field office in Houston, the task force would be working shoulder to shoulder to solve the crime. The FBI, Houston police department, Field Intelligence Group, and in some instances the Secret Service would be in a conference room exchanging information. Here she met with Sheriff Adams and Vic.
“The ballistic report states the victims were shot from about five hundred feet, about the same distance as the stand of trees the shooter could have used to blow out my tires,” she said. “Looks like we have a marksman here. Anyone know Carr’s skill?” She directed her question at Sheriff Adams.
“He’s a fair shot. Nothing to brag about.” He jotted down something on a notepad. “He does some hunting with our pastor. I’ll find out and get back to you.”
Bella thanked him, appreciative of the extra step, considering his friendship with the suspect. “I’m wondering about vehicles at the scene. The shooter had to get there by some mode of transportation.”
“We found one set of tracks belonging to Professor Forrest Miller. The SUV is parked at the sheriff’s department and is in the middle of a complete sweep. So
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