Page 59 of Concrete Evidence
“Possibly.”
“Ludicrous. I live in a gated community. There’s more danger brewing at the fenced-in playground at the elementary school.”
“There are always ways to gain access to people. Think about this. You were with him prior to his heart attack. If a man’s ever honest, it’s when he’s facing death.”
She shook her head. “He said he loved me, and he’d delayed calling you long enough about reconciliation. Nothing more.”
She stood and walked to a window between her chair and the sofa to a full view of the street. The lines fanning from her eyes deepened, and her angst tugged at his heart. Staring out the window, she stretched her neck muscles. She’d experienced a lot of heartache, and he wanted to make it up to her.
“Mom.”
She whipped her attention to him—
A whiz sounded.
A bullet grazed Mom’s face.
Marc bolted from the sofa and shoved her away from the window. In his weakened condition, they toppled onto the chair. Blood trickled down her face. Not deep, but enough to alarm him. He rolled off her and tamped down a twist of fury.
“Are you all right?” He searched her face.
“Yes.”
“Your cheek is scraped, but it doesn’t look bad.”
She touched the cut and stared in horror at the red coating her fingers. “What is going on? My worst fears about your father are true, and I’ve brought you into it.”
“Mom, this comes with the job. Maybe Roden saw something.” Marc turned to his partner. Blood gushed from his upper-left shoulder.
Mom screamed.
“Call 911.” Marc grabbed a blanket and pressed hard on the wound to stop the blood flow. “Roden, stay with me.”
He failed to utter a word.
34
IN THE SURGERY WAITING ROOM,Marc contacted the Dallas FBI office and requested continued surveillance for Tessa and her grandmother in Fort Worth. Once the arrangements were made, a bit of heaviness slipped from his shoulders.
Roden had been in surgery for over three hours to remove a bullet lodged in his upper-left shoulder, too close to his heart. He’d lost a lot of blood before the ambulance arrived at Mom’s front door. Roden’s wife, Victoria, and their four daughters huddled on a sofa in the room’s cold temps. Frightened.
They all were.
Mom’s face didn’t require stitches... A relief. She held Victoria’s hand.
Marc and God had this on-again, off-again relationship. God was always on, and Marc needed to get rid of the junk separating them. Right now, he needed God to put aside Marc’s issues and save Roden’s life.
God, I’m not always in good standing with You. But I know You’re faithful when I’m not. I’m asking for Roden’s healing and peace for Victoria and the girls.
His head throbbed like a sledgehammer, but his mental list demanded attention. He requested two agents from the local FBI office to pick up his truck from the restaurant and drive it to Marc’s mother’s, where they could get Roden’s car. Within thirty minutes, an agent picked up both sets of keys and requested an update on Roden. Marc wished he had one.
His phone alerted him to a call, and Marc yanked it from his pant pocket and answered without glancing at the number.
“Agent Wilkins,” a woman said. “Senator Elliott asked me to give you a few details about an investigation that he, your father, and Liam Zachary were working on.”
“To whom am I speaking?”
“My name isn’t important. My information, however, is critical.”
