Dark Justice(7)
As we drove off I could feel the deputy’s gaze watching my car. Did he wonder why I wasn’t continuing on the rural road?
Mom was silent. I couldn’t stop reliving the scene. Morton’s desperate eyes. His words and gripping hands. The deputy’s steady gaze. Why had I lied to him? So what if Mom would have gotten upset. I’d lied to law enforcement.
How was Morton right now? Were the paramedics stabilizing him?
Oh, Lord, please help him make it. I’d call the hospital tonight. Beg someone to tell me how he was doing.
Mom sighed. “‘The Lord is near the brokenhearted. He saves those crushed in spirit.’”
I glanced at her. Despite the memory loss, Mom could still quote many Bible verses. And she clung to them, even if most of the time she could no longer tell you what book they were from. “Are you brokenhearted?”
“I’m sad. For Morton.”
“Yes. I’m sad too.”
We turned off Highway 1 onto 92, leaving Half Moon Bay. Passing nurseries and winding into the hills separating the coast from the Bay Area. Soon eucalyptus trees lined the road, their peeled bark an eerie blend of gray and white. Mom drew in a deep breath through her nose. “Smell that? Vicks VapoRub.”
She’d said the same thing when we passed the trees two days ago. “Yup.”
“I used to rub it on your chest when you had a cold. When you were a little girl.”
“I remember.”
Mom sighed. “A daughter’s a very important thing.”
My thoughts flicked to Emily. “You’re right about that.”
Mom made a satisfied noise in her throat. “That’s why we have to find Morton’s daughter for him.”
Oh, boy. One more reason I should have come clean with the deputy. At least I’d have been able to assure Mom they would handle finding Morton’s daughter.
“We’ll start tomorrow.” Mom’s head bobbed up and down.
“I have to work tomorrow.”
She waved dismissive fingers in the air. “Tell the doctor you’re busy.”
“Don’t tell.” Morton’s plea drummed in my head. “Be careful.”
If I’d had any idea what those words would mean to me, to my mother and daughter, I’d have fled California without looking back.
Chapter 2
SPECIAL HOUSE SELECT COMMITTEE INVESTIGATION INTO FREENOW TERRORIST ACTIVITY OF FEBRUARY 25, 2013
SEPTEMBER 16, 2013
TRANSCRIPT
Representative ELKIN MORSE (Chairman, Homeland Security Committee): Seven months ago, tragic and terrifying events pushed this country to the brink of destruction. Since that fateful day of February 25, 2013, every American citizen has had to fight his way back to recovery. Haunting questions remain. Will it happen again? How do we regain our sense of safety? Or should we try to regain it at all? It is a hard balance—between vigilance against evil, and trusting in our own resources and the God who has sustained us.
Now, after all the media stories and preliminary investigations, this committee embarks on a difficult journey—that of trying to separate fact from fiction. As we begin, I feel both anticipation and great sadness. Anticipation for what we can learn and better implement into our national security policies (a task that looms crucial). Yet sadness about the events that occurred, so many of them unnecessary and avoidable. Private citizens were put at risk. Lives were lost. Innocence was stolen.
I pray our investigation yields the truth. But that can only be accomplished if every witness who testifies will speak nothing but the truth.
We begin with the testimony of Sergeant Charles Wade . . .
Chapter 3
By the time we reached our two-bedroom house at 738 Powell Street in San Carlos, it was after 2:00. I pulled our small suitcase from the trunk of my car and followed Mom through the garage side door into our laundry area.
“Ah, home.” She walked into the kitchen and spread her hands.
“Glad to be back?” Mom had lived with me for two months, and she’d raised a real ruckus about moving out of her house in San Mateo. She’d insisted she could remain on her own. But she would never be on her own again.
“Yes, it’s nice.” Her hat sat askew on her head, and she straightened it. “But the hotel was wonderful too. Thank you for taking me.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Will we go again?”
“Sure, sometime.” But not very soon. Even though it was off-season at the Ritz Carlton, which sat right on the ocean, I’d had to save for the weekend over a number of months. It had been worth it, though, to see Mom’s face as she watched the waves.
I helped Mom out of her coat, took mine off, and hung them both in the closet. As I wheeled our suitcase to my bedroom to unpack, the phone rang. Mom picked it up. “Oh, hello, Emily!” She paused. “Yes, we had a wonderful time. Except on the way home we saw a man in an accident, and your mom tried to help. And then the fire truck came, and the paramedics, and the sheriff, and news people. They took the man to the hospital. Morton’s his name. He was so nice but very, very upset. We have to find his daughter for him.”