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Then she raised her head and locked gazes with Nick. And read the truth reflected in his eyes.
Forcing her to acknowledge that Joey had been somewhere near the man who’d arranged the kidnapping. Thinking back, she realized that their initial theory must have been correct. Morales had dumped the black truck shortly after the crash, catching a ride with someone else. The man who’d ordered the kidnapping in the first place.
Which meant her son might be able to recognize the voice of the man who’d masterminded the entire operation.
Once they found him.
THIRTEEN
Nick tore his gaze from Rachel’s when he heard the soup boiling. He rushed to the stove to remove the saucepan from the electric burner. “Soup’s ready,” he said.
Rachel shook her head, as if there was no way she’d be able to eat, but he knew they had to try to keep things normal, for Joey’s sake. He filled several bowls with the steaming soup and carried them over to the table in two trips.
“Try to eat something, Joey,” he urged. “You don’t have to think about the bad man anymore.”
“But I can still smell him,” Joey whined.
“Try the soup, and I’ll clean the floor again,” Rachel murmured.
“After you eat something,” Nick said, gesturing to the empty seat. She put a hand over her stomach but sat next to her son. He gave Rachel credit for trying, when she leaned over her bowl. “Hmm, smells good.”
Joey leaned over his own soup and took a tentative sniff. The aroma of chicken soup seemed to appease him enough to take a sip. “Tastes good,” he admitted.
Rachel took a sip, too. “Yes, it does.”
They hadn’t prayed, so Nick said a quick, silent prayer of thanks before taking a spoonful of his soup. The three of them sat in companionable silence as they enjoyed the simple meal. When Joey had finished, Rachel pushed away and carried her bowl to the sink. As soon as she’d rinsed her dishes, she returned to the bathroom.
Nick scrubbed a hand along the back of his neck, knowing that no matter how many times Rachel scrubbed the wooden floor, the scent of Wally’s aftershave would linger.
In Joey’s mind more so than in reality.
He quickly washed the dishes, while Joey went back to sit in front of the fire. The sad expression on the child’s face made his heart ache. Sophie’s life had been cut short by the car crash, but she’d always been a happy child. Loved school and had lots of friends. Both he and Becky had doted on their daughter. The thought of Sophie suffering the way Joey had made his chest hurt.
No matter how important this timeline was, he simply couldn’t ignore Joey. Rachel returned to the room, looking dejected as she dropped onto the sofa beside her son.
“Hey, Joey, how would you like me to read the story of Christmas to you from the Bible?” he asked.
“The Bible has the story of Christmas in it?” Joey asked, his eyes wide with curiosity.
Rachel winced and he understood she was feeling guilty that Joey didn’t know the real meaning of Christmas. “Yep, it sure does.”
“Okay.”
Nick picked up the Bible and settled onto the recliner. He opened his mother’s Bible to the Gospel of Luke, Chapter 2 verse 7. “‘And she brought forth her firstborn son and wrapped him in swaddling clothes and laid him in a manger; because there was no room for them in the inn.
“‘And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field keeping watch over their flock by night. And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them and the glory of the Lord shone round about them; and they were sore afraid. And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord.’”
He continued through verse twenty and when he finished reading, he was humbled to realize that both Joey and Rachel were staring at him, as if hanging on every word.
“And that is the true meaning of Christmas,” he murmured, encouraged that this would be another step for both of them in their journey to believe.
* * *
Rachel loved listening to Nick read from the Bible, but she also felt bad that she hadn’t taught Joey about God and the story of Jesus before now.
“That was a nice story,” Joey said with a wide yawn.
She kissed the top of his head. “It was a wonderful story, wasn’t it? I want you to think about God whenever you feel afraid, okay?”
