// WHO DOES HE THINK HE IS, JUST TOSSING YOU ASIDE LIKE THAT?//
A sudden alertness lit Elaine’s eyes. The sadness in her face yielded first to a neutral look, then a growing suspicion.
// IS HE REALLY GOING WHERE HE SAYS HE IS? //
It was working. Jealousy and suspicion were the silver bullets for this human. One last thought should do it.
// STOP KIDDING YOURSELF. IT’S ANOTHER WOMAN AND YOU KNOW IT. //
Elaine grabbed the window and slammed it shut so hard it awoke the neighbors’ dogs into a chorus of barking.
Lena smiled. With Elaine duly directed, it wouldn’t take much for Jonathan to fall into the final steps. Nick’s success was all but ensured.
19
THE HALLWAY LIGHTS WERE DIMMED and the janitors were starting in the offices at True North, Jon’s church. Seven thousand attended every Sunday, millions watched on television.
Carla looked up as he stepped into the reception area. Her eyes drooped from fatigue under the graying hair that made her look much older than her fifty-two years. She nodded at the door to the right of his office.
“In the conference room.”
“What’s going on now?”
“She’s distraught. Says you’re her only hope.” Carla shrugged. “Not sure how serious she was about killing herself, she said it like she was joking. But she’s real upset.”
It had been a while since anyone had expressed any need for pastoral counsel, especially since the television broadcasts had begun. He’d gotten so used to having his staff handle things that it was gratifying to make this exception and see someone himself for a change. It was good to feel needed again, in a way so-called celebrities aren’t.
“I’ll need you in there with me—mind staying a bit longer?”
“I’m already late to feed Charlie.” Carla’s cat, her only companion, was notorious for exacting revenge if he had to wait too long for his supper.
“Please. For propriety’s sake, Carla.”
She sighed. Heavily.
“All right.”
“Thanks, Carla. Let’s see what’s going on with her.”
He pushed open the walnut door to find a woman seated with her back to them at the long table, her glossy black hair falling around her shoulders. Carla went to the mini-refrigerator and got bottles of water for them.
“Pastor Hartwell, this is Maria Guzman.”
An unreasonably beautiful young woman stood up and turned to face him.
“I’m so sorry to bother you this late—it was raining, I couldn’t find my hotel, I just happened to pass by your church and the lights were on…I’m sorry.”
“Not a problem.” He took her warm hand and shook it. “Please, have a seat.”
Though she smiled, her eyes were full of something bitter, something dark that lay just beneath the surface. They sat opposite each other, Maria’s hands in her lap.
“So how can I help, Ms. Guzman?”
“Maria, please.” She glanced over at Carla, who was sitting at the far end of the table. “I don’t mean to be rude, but what I have to tell you is…well, it’s personal.”
“I understand. But it’s really for your own security that she’s here.”
“What are you going to do, jump my bones?”
Jon let out a nervous laugh.
“Of course not!”
“I’m sorry, that was really crude. I’m just such a mess right now!”
“Don’t apologize, it’s all right. But back to the issue at hand? You can say anything with Carla in the room—trust me, she’s the soul of discretion.”
That she was, but when he turned to her for affirmation she stood up.
“Actually, it’s getting late for me, and Pastor Hartwell is the soul of integrity.” She started walking to the door.
“Wait, Carla—”
“And I have a cat who’ll pee all over my bed again if I’m any later for his supper.”
That elicited a giggle from Maria.
“So I’ll just say goodnight to both of you.”
And with that, she was out the door.
20
ONLY A FEW SECONDS TO DO THIS.
Even with the scant traffic at this ungodly hour, someone might drive by and report her to the police. Near the edge of the Coronado Bridge, she peered down into the inky water below. Hardly a ripple or wave. How long would she feel the pain of impact? How long would she live feeling the terror of drowning while fighting the instinct to swim, to survive? How cold was the water?
Probably very cold.
Dark and cold. That was exactly how she envisioned her death, for such had been her life. Nothing would stop her now. She’d mentally rehearsed it for months. Twice in the past week she’d come close, then changed her mind. But she’d managed to get this far tonight.
No turning back.
She had to do it—now.
Just then, a seagull flew over her head and let out a plaintive cry. It drew her eyes upward to a blue rectangular sign with white lettering that read:
Too late.
Part of her wished someone would stop their car, get out, try to talk her down. Not that she’d change her mind, she only wanted someone to know that she’d taken her own life—and why. But that would really be inconsiderate of her, subjecting a good Samaritan to such a horrible memory.
It’s time.
With twitching fingers, she gripped the edge of the wall and climbed up. The wind swept matted strands of hair into her tear-stained face. She sucked in a sharp breath through teeth chattering despite the evening warmth.
Just one step forward…
Nick stood back from the ledge watching the subject, who looked utterly harmless to anyone but herself. With one foot outstretched over the sixty-meter drop, she asked the cosmic question.
“Why, God?”
Nick tried not to listen.
He hated watching this. He’d ushered the souls of many a suicide victim to the Terminus but always tried to avoid the scene just before they killed themselves. With this assignment however, he was forced not only to attend a suicide but to facilitate it.
She’s just one human. If she goes ahead and jumps, it’s for the greater good of millions.
Nick got up on the ledge and stood behind her—floated, actually.
The woman sobbed softly and pulled her foot back.
Was she reconsidering? This assignment was supposed to be easy. Now he had to listen in to know what she was thinking.
// I HAVE TO DO THIS. NOTHING ELSE WILL STOP THE PAIN…//
“That’s right,” he whispered into her ear. “The pain. There’s no other way to end it.”
She nodded, sniffed, wiped her nose with her sleeve. Then she looked up into the sky.
“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” She stuck her foot back over the ledge.
“Make it right, then,” Nick whispered. “Go ahead and jump. Maybe that’ll help make up for what you’ve done. You’ll—”
“What?” She pulled her foot back and started crying. “It wasn’t my…” The rest of her words were muffled by sobs.
What kind of inane assignment was this, anyway? Nick listened in.
// NOTHING’S GOING TO BRING HER BACK. I’M SORRY, GOD. I KNOW YOU DON’T APPROVE OF THIS, BUT I CAN’T GO ON. //
“Go ahead and do it. It’s what you want, what you need,” Nick whispered, feeling increasingly uneasy about it all. “You’ll finally find…peace.”
“Peace, yes.” She leaned forward, trembling as she started tipping over the edge.
A sudden chill wrapped around him, went through him. Not a physical sensation, as he was not in a physical state. It had been years since he’d experienced it.