“I did, son. The angel also used his wing to deflect the bullets into the Bible in Jon’s shirt pocket. We just watched a miracle take place.”

Josiah stood up and clapped his hands. “Now I can rest easy knowing the Rafters are okay.”

“Seeing a miracle like that makes you wonder how often miracles occur on Earth without people even realizing they’re taking place.”

“I’m sure they happen all the time, Mama. Although they might not always be as dramatic a miracle as mine was, and the one we just witnessed.”

Susan Barrett got to her feet and placed a hand around Josiah’s shoulder. “Like I said a moment ago, every Christ follower is protected by their own guardian angel. God is always looking out for his children. He never rests. He is always vigilant.”

“And God is always good.”

“Yes, Josiah. God is always good. All the time, God is good.”

“Speaking of God, I would like to see Jesus again. How often can I see him?”

“As often as you wish. Jesus is always available to his brothers and sisters. And what’s really amazing is that Jesus is omnipresent. He can be everywhere at once. I don’t know how many millions of saints there are in heaven, but the Lord can be with us all at the same time and on an individual basis. You don’t have to wait your turn,” Susan Barrett said.

Josiah felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned and saw Jesus smiling playfully at him.

“How do you like your home, Josiah?”

“It’s perfect. I love it.”

“It gave me great joy building it for you.”

“Jesus, now that I’m here I want to serve you. Are you going to give me a job to do up here?”

Jesus put an arm around Josiah. “Let’s walk down to your vineyard and talk about it. Your vineyard grows the tastiest grapes. I often come here to sample the fruit.”

“I’ll tend the grapes, Lord. And I’ll make wine for you. It will be the finest wine in all of heaven,” Josiah said as they walked toward the vines—heavy with fruit and glistening in golden light.

Jesus laughed heartily. “They’re table grapes, Josiah. But yes, this will be your job to tend the vineyard for me. You will find satisfaction and purpose growing the grapes. And your faithful service will bring me glory forever.”

“I’m honored to serve you, Jesus. I’ll work hard in the vineyard to grow grapes worthy of the King of kings.”

“Just as I accepted your confession of sins, I accept your devotion. And what is mine is yours. You are a co-heir with me, Josiah. And you will even reign with me.”

“I was once a scoundrel, and now I am like a king?”

“This is difficult for you to understand, I know. But you have all eternity to figure it out. Your days will never run out.”

Chapter 55

Arcadias Charbonneau lay as still as a dead man in the peony bushes. All around him he could hear deputies and SWAT personnel combing the grounds looking for him. Luckily there were no canine units on the scene tracking his scent. Bloodhounds would find him in short order. And yet if he somehow managed to escape the property, he knew the dogs would surely come later.

As far as he could tell he hid in a good spot. And his dark clothes, smudged with dirt from when he explored the crawlspace, aided his cause. He blended into the darkness well.

So as Arcadias rested behind the thick peony bushes he plotted his escape. But it wasn’t easy. He found it hard to think. The pain made it difficult to focus his brain. The descent from the roof using the clothesline rope had been terrifying and brutal.

He’d thumped onto the ground at a fast speed, landing awkwardly on his left foot and twisting his ankle to boot. His left ankle and knee throbbed as rhythmically as his racing pulse.

As soon as he had stepped off the roof’s edge he heard a snap. The baluster on the widow’s walk that the rope had been tied to snapped under his weight and he’d fallen most of the way.

The only good part of the stomach-lifting drop was that the rope no longer dangled from the roof and against the wall, begging to be spotted.

But this advantage would disappear quickly if he didn’t get a move on. His original plan of heading for Costa Rica would have to wait. Leaving the country came in a distant second to escaping the law enforcement buzzing around the plantation grounds.

My only chance is to head for the swampland bordering the property, Arcadias thought. He didn’t look forward to entering the swamps. The odds of surviving very long in the Atchafalaya Basin were bleak for anyone other than a survival expert. Finding drinkable water and evading alligators and poisonous snakes presented a continuous life or death challenge. But he had no choice.

On the lam in the swamps, fighting to stay alive seemed way better to him than sharing a cell with a reprobate. Besides, there was no chance of making it to his vehicle. There were numerous law enforcement officers standing around it.

But what Arcadias found most depressing was that he couldn’t access the ten-thousand in cash he had left over from liquidating the gold coins he’d found on Grand Isle beach. He’d stashed the money under a seat in the rental truck. He was now a penniless fugitive.

Arcadias took in a deep and silent breath, readying himself for action. He couldn’t stay in his tenuous position any longer. It’s time to move, old boy. The swamp is waiting for you.

****

Escorted by the SWAT officer, Jon and Annie walked out the front door of their home. On this surreal night their peaceful life had shattered like glass into a million pieces. And looking around, Annie felt like she’d walked into a Hollywood movie set where she was the lead actress and Jon her leading man.

The Whitcomb Bed and Breakfast Inn had become a beehive of activity. And it wasn’t the type of activity she welcomed. Their tranquil property had somehow hosted a cop killing.

Annie blinked her eyes, hoping the madness would go away. But the chaos still remained when she opened them.

Red and blue lights flashed from atop numerous squad cars parked around the house. Yellow crime scene tape cordoned off a good part of the yard near the drive. The crime scene tape led to a Copeland Police car parked in the drive. The driver-side door hung open on the squad car. A detective stood near the car and shot numerous pictures of the vehicle from every angle, including the interior.

Meanwhile, deputies with guns drawn shone flashlights into every bush and behind every tree on the property, searching for someone or something. Intimidating SWAT officers milled around in tactical gear and talked to detectives, submachine guns dangling from their shoulders. Annie even saw some U.S. marshals hanging around. She recognized the marshals. The two marshals were their WITSEC representatives.

“I guess we were safe all along,” Rafter said, taking in the extensive law enforcement presence.

“I must confess I didn’t always feel safe tonight.”

“I know what you mean, Babe. We were blessed to make it out alive and unharmed. God looked out for us for sure.”

“Something supernatural happened when Arcadias shot you. There must have been an angel in the corridor with us,” Annie suggested. “There is no other explanation.”

“Maybe he stepped out of the mural.”

Annie stole a sideways glance at her husband. “Are you serious? I can’t always tell.”

“I’m just teasing, talking to calm myself down.”

They walked side by side down the blood-stained steps and crossed the yard toward a phalanx of squad cars. Annie saw the always controversial Lester Tubbs talking demonstratively with his hands. And then she did a double-take when she saw her old FBI boss, Newton Laskey, talking to the sheriff. And not far away stood Kevin Brubaker and Otis Grant, agents she used to work with.