Showdown by Ted Dekker Page A

of evil—doing so undermines the grace that conquers that evil. Of course we don’t sin for the sake of grace, but neither do we sweep evil under a rug and pretend it doesn’t exist. The consequence of evil must be faced by the students if we have any hope of success here.”
    Andrew knew that the director was right, but he couldn’t help throwing out one last sentimental argument.“But they are only children. What if they don’t conquer? What if they are conquered?”
    â€œThese students have been capable of abstract thought since age ten, sooner in many cases. They know how to question good and evil. Billy has chosen the time, not we. And if they are conquered, so be it. It is out of our hands. Now is the time for more prayer, not interference. Our future is in God’s hands.”
    â€œI agree, but God has given us responsibility for the students. Our hands matter too.”
    â€œAnd our hands are tied!” David said. “I suggest we double the morning prayer times and leave Billy’s heart to God.”
    The finality in his tone silenced Andrew. David strode to his desk, picked up an eight-by-ten photograph of his son, Samuel, who was among those students, and looked at the smiling face.
    The room stilled to the sound of their breathing. The connection between David and Samuel had always been a source of profound respect for Andrew. At times like this, he felt oddly compelled to remove his gaze and leave the father to his thoughts, but today he watched. Love, respect, remorse.
    No, not remorse. There was no reason for remorse, not in the case of his son.
    â€œWhere is Samuel?” David asked, eyes still on the picture.
    â€œI don’t know, sir.”
    David laid the frame down and set a brisk pace toward the door. “If you see him, tell him I’m looking for him.”
    â€œYes, sir.”
    David
left the room.

CHAPTER FOUR
    PARADISE
    Wednesday afternoon
    JOHNNY PEERED out the front window, down the street, where half a dozen people gathered around Cecil on the bench.
    The kitchen phone clattered into the cradle behind him. “Gotta go,” his mother said. “They want me to take him to Junction.”
    Johnny dropped the curtain.
    Sally swept up some papers from the counter and grabbed a light windbreaker. “They say a bad storm is hitting Montrose, headed north. Don’t worry, I’ll be back by dark.”
    â€œYou have to listen to me, Mom.”
    â€œStop it, Johnny. This is crazy. You live in those comics and games, and God help me, you can’t come in here and tell me you saw someone kill Cecil by poking his eyes out.”
    â€œI didn’t imagine the stranger. He was real. If I didn’t imagine the man, what makes you think I imagined what he did?”
    Sally closed her eyes and took a breath. Eyes open. “Cecil had his own eyes, Johnny—I saw them myself. Blue eyes, not black eyes. How could the stranger poke his eyes out if Cecil still has them?”
    Good point.
    â€œIf I’m right, Cecil had a heart attack.” She used a gentle tone now. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have snapped, but you have to see how crazy this sounds, right?” She plucked the ambulance keys from the hutch. “The mind can do strange things when it’s under a lot of stress. I think seeing someone die of a heart attack qualifies, don’t you?”
    Johnny chewed on his fingernail.
    â€œRight?”
    â€œI guess. Can’t someone else take him?”
    â€œNo. This is what I’m paid for.” She smoothed his hair, then pulled his head against her shoulder. “Come on, Johnny, everything’s fine. I know you were close to Cecil. It has to hurt. I’m sorry. We’ll all miss him.”
    He didn’t know what to do, so he just stood still.
    â€œYou’ll be okay,” she said, pulling back.
    â€œSure.”
    But he wasn’t sure. Not at all. The image of the man in