Merciful Law

Darby Sr. Rae

Description

Lawrence Davenport lives a fortunate life. He has a brilliant career, an enviable home, a devoted wife, and so much more. But Lawrence Davenport also has a brutal secret. After three years, Emmet Navar is still grieving the death of his wife. Month by month he puts more pieces of his outwardly simple world back together, dedicating himself to his boys first and his firm second. The woman they both know is battling demons from her past, demons in the present, and demons she is sure will rear in her future...and the future of those now close to her. Many days she allows herself to be fooled to believe her life is normal...even happy.

Full of suspense, adventure and humor, you'll fall in love with the characters at every twist and turn in Merciful Law. It is the perfect blend of male and female, action and romance. As the story unfolds, you will wonder who will win, who will lose, who will live and who will die.

Merciful Law...they had a marriage to die for...and someone will.

Sujets

• Romance contemporaine
• Fiction
• Suspense
• Romance

Informations

• Publié par: eBookIt.com
• Date de parution: 21 février 2013
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9780983131021
• Langue: English

Extrait

MERCIFUL LAW
DARBY RAE
SOLID SPIRIT PUBLISHERS
INDIANAPOLIS, INDIANA
 


Merciful Law
Darby Rae
 
ISBN-13: 978-0-9831-3102-1
 
Copyright 2011 by Darby Rae,
All rights reserved.
 
 
Published in eBook format by Solid Spirit Publishers
 
 
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.
 
Cover Design: Collective Alternative
 


 
Dedication
To my daughter Rachel and my ‘person’ Amanda, without you this book would never have been finished. For the countless hours you dedicated to Merciful Law ; I dedicate Merciful Law to you with an abundance of love and gratitude. Its success is as much yours as it is mine.
 
Acknowledgements
T he cliché it takes a village to raise a child is true for writing a novel. It truly took a village to write, edit and publish my first novel. I am eternally grateful for my village. With them I can accomplish anything; without them …success would be empty.
To my Heavenly Father for bestowing me with an abundance of gifts and blessings in my life; many are listed on this page.
To my earthly father for his prophetic words, “adversity defeats you or defines you…and the choice is always yours.” And to my mother for reinforcing time after time, “life is a self-fulfilling prophecy…and I can only achieve what I believe.” I can’t imagine how different my life would be without such incredible parents. I thank God for you every day!
To my sister Lynda for rejecting the idea of becoming an author herself…and encouraging me to take the ball and ‘roll with it.’
To my sister Aileen for your support and encouragement to keep pushing…when I swore the light at the end of the tunnel was an oncoming train.
To our Susan, the Susan, for letting me immortalize you in this novel (don’t worry; I didn’t make you a mute). My deepest thanks to you for being part of our family for the past decade. I couldn’t have balanced my work and family without your dedication and unselfishness.
To my children Cole, Rachel, Ben and Vince, you continue to be my greatest gifts from God. My pride in each of you is only exceeded by my love for you…and your pride in me is a rare gift a mother receives from her children. You told everyone I was an author before I believed it myself ! Your faith in my success in ama-za-zing! Thank you for the sacrifices you made so I could write.
To their friends, especially Celi, Jagh, Raven, Sam, Brendan, Casey, Chase, and BJ for continuing to ask, “When is your book going to be finished?” You provided the relentless accountability and encouragement I needed, daily. I love you all!
To my CHRP 21 sisters, thank you for letting me use bits and pieces of your lives and personalities in my characters. Special thanks to Whitney (Mucha) for the use of her last name (even though nobody will pronounce it correctly!).
To ‘the girls,’ Merit, Sonya, Cathy, Amy, and Julie for being my sounding board, my inner circle and my friends for the last 8 years. If I had never discovered my core values (thanks to Cathy) I would be chasing someone else’s dreams!
To the playgroup moms Cathy, Delsie, Maria, Kathy and Carolyn for being part of my research team. Thank you for the countless laughs as I peppered you with plot and character questions over drinks and dinner. Get ready for the next novel!!
To Amy Hogan for the use of her pseudonym Annie Logan—who knew after 20+ years it would be put to good use?
To Stephanie Meyer, author of the Twilight Saga, for writing novels that inspired a generation to start reading and inspired me to start writing. The full impact of your talent is so far-reaching; I’m convinced it can only be seen from Heaven.
To Karen and Kim for the countless hours you spent in the final editing process, not only were you the ‘punctuation police,’ and the ‘tense police,’ but you gave some phenomenal advice that truly improved the story—especially the ending! Thank you for your sincere interest and hard work.
To the udderly impeccable Vicky and the rest of my editing team; you are all so deer to me! Thank you for bearing with my obsessiveness and my homonyms…until the tail end…making Merciful Law the best it could bee!
To Amanda and Ross Parker for giving my family and me unconditional support, time, love and aid in every area of our lives. Ross, in addition to all the things you have taken care of that are your forté; you contributed several incredible creative brainstorms! And Amanda, my partner, my cosmic compass, my person; you are absolutely priceless to me!
To Eric Meyer, my forever friend, you taught me not to fear failure and pushed me to always chase my dreams.
And to Paul Lushin, my constant mentor (and occasional tormentor), I would still be only chasing many of my dreams if you hadn’t coached me how to make them come true.
1
L ooking out from my terrace I gazed in disbelief at the clear blue sky. It was just before sunset, Deborah’s favorite time of the evening. She loved to watch the transformation from day to night; loved the way the scent of the flowers mixed with the sea air. She loved so much, so many things. She loved me…unconditionally, she loved me… loves me.
I stared at the empty seat next to me where my wife, my soul mate, and I had spent countless hours together, but today, I sat alone. She was gone. Deborah was gone. The thought was unbelievable, the pain unbearable. The same questions played in my head on an endless loop. Was she kidnapped? Did she just leave?
There was no trace, no hint to her disappearance. I knew we had recently drifted, but isn’t that the natural ebb and flow of a marriage? I’d always relied on her. She was my constant. On our wedding day we vowed to grow old together and prayed to die on the same day so neither one would know the pain of living without the other. Had that changed for her? Had I failed her as a husband…didn’t she know she was my life? No— is my life— is , is my life. Dear God, Deborah…where are you?
I looked out at the vastness of my material wealth; the house, the property, the fine clothes and jewelry… all of it is worthless without you at my side, Deborah. Did you leave me? And why? Don’t you know without you my life is nothing? I was a loving husband. I took care of you. I protected you. I cherished you. I could hardly be without you. It hurts to breathe now that we are apart. Did my actions not speak loudly enough of how much I adored you? What did I do wrong, Deborah—what didn’t I do? Closing my eyes I pictured our last conversation. I played it over and over again in my mind, searching for any hint, a clue as to what was to come. Again, there was nothing.
I had spoken with Salvador earlier today. Sal never came to the house. That part of my life was never to touch my home…my wife. Though Sal was my right-hand man, he had never met Deborah. He was in charge of the details, the “dirty details.” I always expected him to be on top of things, to know what was going on, and to be responsible for the others. They all reported to him. He knew this tragedy would carry over and he would be responsible. When he came to me, he bowed his head in reverence. He was sorrowful. He knew he had failed me. Deborah had disappeared.
I squeezed the heels of my hands to my temples as the unthinkable entered my mind. Oh, Deborah! Had I crossed someone and you were my price? Are they torturing you, Deborah? Are you screaming my name; pleading for me to save you? I have to stay strong to find you—rescue you. The bloody vision ripped through my body like shards of broken glass— shredding what was left of my beating heart.
“Bring me Charlie and José,” I said, attempting to compose myself.
“Lawrence, I will, but I can handle this. There’s no need—”
I raised my hand interrupting him. “I need to talk to them—ask them questions. Bring them to me immediately.” Sal’s worry at my disappointment was evident. I, however, had little patience and was in no mood to console his worry...I can barely console my own. Reluctantly but obediently he returned to his car to retrieve his men. I sat in a prayerful posture, templing my fingers, waiting for them…the ones responsible… accountable.
My mind was processing. José was a good man, competent, honest. He had protected Deborah for seven months…seven months and eleven days. He had always been trustworthy and thorough; this only added to my confusion. Charlie was different. Charlie was a disappointment. Futile. Weak. With all the time Sal had spent mentoring him, he wasn’t improving. In fact, his nonchalance was growing, nonchalance leading to mistakes.
As Sal led them to the terrace, I heard only one voice, Charlie’s. His nervousness eking through his arrogance, he’s a talker. When they approached the terrace, Charlie was still the only one to speak. “Buenos días, Señor Davenport. An honor it is to come to your home…and your wife…” He shook his head and lowered his eyes in condolence. The words were right, even the gestures, but he couldn’t fake the sentiment to carry it off. Nonetheless, I nodded to acknowledge.
I remained seated. The men stood in front of me shoulder to shoulder, waiting for me to speak; noting my exhaustion.
“Charlie. Do you recognize this woman?”
“Sí, señor.”
“What is her name?” He looked at me inquisitively knowing I knew exactly who she was, but I wanted to hear him say it. Sal knew I believed the incident, Charlie’s blunder with the Holtz woman, had, in some way, led to Deborah’s disappearance. I remembered the night Deborah and I saw it on the news. She recognized Amy Holtz right away. The story horrified her, but she never commented on it again.
“Señorita Holtz.”
“English, Charlie.” He let out a sigh so I would note the extra effort he expended to accommodate me. Sal noted Charlie was trying