MIA: Missing In Atlanta. Debby Giusti

the city grime from his hands. Retracing his steps, he stopped at the door Sarah had indicated.

      Might as well check out the chapel. Anything—even prayer—would be better than sitting alone in the kitchen.

      The sweet scent of candles filled the air as Jude stepped inside the small room. Three roughly hewn, wooden crosses hung on the wall behind a table that held a plant in an earthenware pot. Nearby a large leather-bound Bible lay open on a small stand.

      Kids sat on the carpeted floor, heads down, legs crossed. Jude counted eight boys and five girls, who all looked like normal teens.

      Sarah flipped on a CD player. A woman sang about forgiveness, redemption and the love of the Lord, repeating the syllables in a soothing cadence.

      Jude hunkered down in the rear, away from the kids but with a clear view of Sarah, who clasped her hands, head bowed. Bull entered and took a spot on the opposite side of the room.

      “Jesus forgave the sinner…” The plaintive song filled the small room and mixed with the wisps of smoke twisting from the candles.

      Jude tilted his head back against the wall. Above him, a heater vent pumped tepid air that brushed his cheek and was as soothing as a woman’s touch.

      His eyes drooped. He was back in the desert. An IED exploded. He jerked, caught himself. His eyes popped open.

      Had anyone seen him doze off? He glanced at Sarah, still bent in prayer.

      Did God listen to her?

      His eyes flicked over the kids. Did God listen to any of them?

      He stared at the two smaller crosses on the wall. Good thief, bad thief.

      A story of forgiveness. Or so his father claimed. Ironic, really, but that was the issue, wasn’t it?

      Would he ever be able to forgive his dad?

      Jude shook himself, hoping to shove the thought into the darkness.

      But the memory took hold like an obsession.

      A stalled car, an oncoming train. They’d all escaped, until Jude’s mother ran back to get…

      The heart-shaped money clip she’d hung on the visor. The only memento she had from her dad.

      So why hadn’t his father reacted?

      A lump clogged Jude’s throat.

      The sound of screeching metal…his mother’s scream…

      Jude tried to remember her face. Brown hair. Blue eyes. Tall. Wasn’t everyone tall to a six-year-old kid?

      A heaviness settled over him. A sorrow for the little boy left behind. For a father whose grief twisted into an inability to relate to his young son. Worse than anything had been the self-righteousness. His dad believed that he walked with the Lord.

      To a boy who felt isolated and alone, if his father walked with the Lord that was the last place Jude wanted to be.

      He glanced at Sarah. Was her belief twisted, as well? Did she claim God was all loving when He allowed the sick perversions that forced so many kids to seek shelter from the reality of their lives?

      Jude knew what it was like to have to escape. An ROTC scholarship to college had been his way out. He hadn’t looked back.

      Now, seeing the kids in this room, he realized he’d been one of the lucky ones.

      The song faded to silence. Then a small voice spoke. “Father, thank you for taking me from a place of pain and bringing me to a place of safety.”

      A girl wept. Her sorrow cut through Jude. So young and so hurt.

      “Thank you, Lord, for bringing Brittany back to us.” Keesha wrapped her arm around the teen with the woman’s body and the troubled eyes.

      “Thank you for bringing Captain Walker to Hope House.” Jude’s head flew up at the sound of Sarah’s voice. “Help him find his friend.”

      Evidently, Sarah believed in the power of prayer. Well, she could talk to the Lord all she wanted. Jude would count on his own ability to find Nicole.

      He wanted to leave the stuffy room, the house on Rosemont and Sarah Montgomery with her questioning eyes and love of the Lord.

      Jude rose and headed for the door. He didn’t need to be sucked into the hypocrisy of faith. He’d left all that behind when he turned his back on his father. He would leave it behind once again.

      

      Sarah watched Jude bolt from the chapel. The captain acted like one of the troubled kids they picked up off the street. Jude Walker may be put together on the outside, but he was hurting inside. Was it because of the woman he was trying to find? Or perhaps pain he carried from his past?

      She glanced at Bull and nodded.

      He rose and slipped from the room.

      Maybe Bull could help.

      Hopefully, once Jude found Nicole, his girlfriend would be able to smooth out the rough edges of his life.

      Funny for a woman to give a man the wrong address. Was she related to Viki Valentine? Although Sarah barely remembered the girl, her history couldn’t be good.

      So many of the kids were trapped in a self-perpetuating cycle of despair. Hard to climb into the light when you had grown up in darkness.

      Sarah thought back to the last man her own mother had brought home. A retired factory worker with a monthly pension and medical benefits. Somehow in her mother’s mind that equated to security. Unfortunately, it had nothing to do with love.

      Sarah lowered her head and prayed.

      Lord, I’m trying to leave the past and move into the future You have prepared for me. But it’s hard to know Your will for my life. If a door opens, give me the courage to walk through it.

      THREE

      After night prayer, Sarah insisted Brittany eat a hefty helping of lasagna before she and Keesha went upstairs to the girls’ dorm. Sarah tidied the kitchen but left out a plate and silverware in case Jude wanted something to eat when he returned to the shelter.

      If he returned.

      Bull had posted a note on the bulletin board, saying he was driving Jude back to his truck.

      Big and burly, but with a heart of gold, Bull had a way with people. Sarah smiled.

      For all his history, Bull had turned his life around. It was hard to believe that the stories about his youth were true. Supposedly he’d controlled the neighborhood, but not in a good way. When his brother—a dedicated cop who was making a difference—was gunned down, God had walked into the midst of Bull’s pain and claimed him as His own.

      Maybe Bull could get through to the captain and find out what had sent him racing from the chapel.

      Sarah wiped her hands on a dish towel and headed for her office. Dropping into the chair behind her desk, she spotted the blinking answering machine and pushed Play.

      “Sarah, it’s Mom. I just wanted to hear your voice, sugar.”

      Sarah bit down on her lip.

      “It’s been so long since we’ve talked. I know I’ve made a lot of mistakes. I thought things would be better when I married Hank. He said to tell you…well, he’s trying to be a good stepdad, but he thinks you’re running away. Call me, sugar. I’m sure we can—”

      “Work things out,” Sarah mumbled, punching the delete message button. Isn’t that what her mother always tried to do?

      Except her idea of problem solving involved bringing a new man home. Her mother didn’t understand long-term commitment or self-sacrifice. Nor did she understand her daughter’s desire to make her own way in the world.

      Sarah didn’t need a man to complete her.