Valley of the Shadow by Tom Pawlik

he’d had during his hallucinations—the creepy visions he’d had when this whole nightmare had first begun nearly five years ago. But they had occurred with less frequency after Helen and Conner disappeared. And eventually, as he had settled into his dismal routine on the farm, they had ceased altogether.
        Mitch dropped the cases of oil and reached for his flashlight. This couldn’t be happening again. Not again.
        He snapped the light on and aimed it toward the doorway. And gasped.
        The light fell onto the pale, gaunt face of a graying man. Mitch knew this face.
        His mouth went dry. His throat felt like sandpaper as he tried to speak.
        “Dad?”

10
    IT WAS NINE THIRTY when Conner arrived at his office. His calendar displayed a relatively light schedule for the day, as it had for the last few weeks. Nancy had made a concerted effort to ease him into a full workload since he’d been back. Furthermore, her sarcasm and lawyer jokes had completely ceased. And she had gone out of her way to make sure he always had everything he needed, even before he knew he needed it. Files, faxes, phone numbers—it was uncanny and a little unnerving. But he wasn’t ready to complain just yet. He rather liked this new Nancy.
        Conner poured a cup of coffee from the espresso machine in the lounge, then stopped by Gus Brady’s office to say good morning. Gus was one of those guys whose clothes never fit quite right and who always looked just a little too tall for ordinary furniture. He sat hunched at his desk, typing furiously.
        He glanced up from his laptop and flashed a quick smile when Conner knocked on the door. “Hey, Connie.”
        They had been friends since law school. In fact, it was Gus’s influence that had gotten Conner his chance to join the firm twelve years earlier.
        Conner leaned against the doorjamb. “You’ll never guess who I saw this morning.”
        Gus stared at him for a moment, his eyes shifting across the room. He shook his head.
        “Jim Malone,” Conner said. “Remember the Malones?”
        Gus’s forehead puckered, then released. “Oh yeah, the malpractice.” Then it puckered again. “They prayed themselves out of a fortune, as I recall. Us too.”
        Conner chuckled. “I guess that’s one way to look at it.”
        “Well . . .” Gus snorted and went back to his computer. “That’s how I look at it.”
        Conner hesitated a moment, pondering whether or not to press a little further. “You know, there was a time I might have looked at it that way too. But these days, I’m tending to be a little more open-minded.”
        Gus raised an eyebrow but didn’t look up. “Open-minded?”
        “You know . . . about them praying about their decision. I guess I’m putting a little more stock in that sort of stuff these days.”
        Gus didn’t answer and still wasn’t looking up. Conner could see a flush of red rising up his neck and across his cheeks. He ventured a little further. “I mean . . . you gotta admire that kind of faith, right?”
        “Oh, man!” Gus glanced at his watch and swore under his breath. “Y’know . . . I forgot I have to jump on a conference call.” He reached for his phone. “Sorry, Connie, I totally forgot about it.”
        “No problem.”
        Conner nodded and backed out of Gus’s doorway, pulling the door shut. That seemed to be the way every conversation with Gus had gone since Conner had returned to work. Whenever Conner tried to steer their conversation toward his heart attack, or any religious topic for that matter, Gus would always manage to cut him off with some suddenly remembered meeting or call. It had gotten to the point where he wasn’t even trying to be creative anymore.
        Though it wasn’t just Gus. Nearly everyone at the firm seemed to treat him differently since he’d been back. Conversations would fade