Riven - Jerry B. Jenkins [95]
“What’re you talking about?”
“The company owns the shack, man. Manny says you haven’t paid your rent, and Pepe says you owe him money too.”
“That’s my business, but I just got mugged and my rent money was stolen.”
“Not my problem.”
“C’mon, Alejandro! I need money to live on. Can’t you loan me some?”
“No way, man. You’ve really disappointed me.”
“Well, you’re disappointing me!”
“Brady, don’t make this worse. You screwed up. Now just get your stuff out of the house and don’t come back.”
On his way out, Brady slammed the door so hard it flew back open. He wanted to kill someone, and he didn’t care who. Maybe he was the one who ought to die. He marched to the laborers’ shack and clomped up the stairs. Manny was alone in the house, but when he started to follow Brady, the boy turned on him.
“Don’t even start with me!” Brady said. “Just stay out of my way right now if you ever want to see your money.”
“Pepe’s looking for you too, Brady.”
“Tell him to watch out too.”
Brady grabbed his clothes and his sawed-off and stuffed the ammunition into his pocket. Manny ducked out of his way as he trotted down the stairs and bounded outside.
Brady ran back to his mother’s trailer and found Peter watching TV.
“Hey, Brady! Is it true that you—?”
“All a big misunderstanding, buddy. I’m moving home though.”
“Cool!”
Brady stowed the sawed-off and ammo in the closet and hung his clothes.
“Gotta go to work.”
“Bring me home a shake?”
“Sure.”
Adamsville State Penitentiary
One of Thomas’s prayers had been answered. Beyond all reason, while going through the arduous process of getting from his office into the bowels of the prison, God had granted him what Thomas and his ilk called a “burden” for Henry Trenton.
It made no sense, and Thomas knew it could only be from the Lord. The Scriptures he had been memorizing all his life made clear that no one was righteous, but if ever there was a man who tested the unconditional love of God, it was the Deacon. Monster, predator, abuser of the helpless, murderer. Even the most ardent anti–capital punishment activist would sooner not talk about Trenton.
But something had come over Thomas. As he thought and prayed about what to say, he never once doubted that justice would be meted out the following night. The tragedy would be that a man would also be sentenced to hell. Oh, the so-called Deacon deserved that too. But so did Thomas. So did everyone.
But how great was the love of God available even to a man such as Henry Trenton. Like the thief on the cross, Trenton would have no time to do good, to live for God, to tangibly thank Him for His unspeakable gift. But grace was available even to him. What a God Thomas served, who would pour out His love on the basest of sinners if they would sincerely repent and believe.
Thomas picked up his pace, so eager was he to plead with Deke to listen, to understand, and to comply. It would be a mistake, he knew, to allow his emotions to show. Or would it?
Thomas had been warned by everyone to never show weakness, but was that what it would be if his urgency and compassion became obvious? Knowing that Russ and Gladys and Grace and Pastor Kessler and others would be praying caused Thomas to expect a miracle. He wanted Henry Trenton for the Kingdom, an example of the deep, deep love of Jesus.
The Deacon stood near the front of his cell, leaning against the wall, arms crossed. Thomas knew he should stand far enough away to avoid tempting the man to try to grab him. But that seemed counterproductive to everything he was expecting from God. So Thomas approached the front wall and leaned close. His face was inches from Trenton’s. If the man wanted to spit at him, throw something at him, grab him by the tie and try to choke him, he could go ahead. Many officers were watching and would immediately come to Thomas’s aid.
“You just can’t go anywhere without that, can you?” the Deacon said, nodding at Thomas’s Bible.
“I could, but I wouldn’t. Especially when there is such important news in it.”
“I know as well