Visiting the police would do nothing but ruin his marriage and incriminate him in a scheme they might not be able to stop, since the money was held in an offshore account he could no longer access. And if BK decided to follow through on the threat to cut him out of the loop entirely, he couldn’t help much with any sting operation. His only contact with BK was via an untraceable cellphone.

“Dave?”

At Kimberly’s drowsy voice, he swiveled toward the door. “Can’t you sleep, sweetheart?” He stood and crossed to her.

“It’s lonely in there without you.”

“I’m getting ready to shut down.” He pulled her close and kissed the top of her head. “I’ll join you in five minutes.”

“I’ll be waiting. Love you.”

“Love you back.”

She hobbled back down the hall, cane in hand, the sleepshirt she’d always loved hanging on her too-thin frame.

As always, his heart ached for her. For them. For what once was and would never be again.

Yet the accident hadn’t damaged her sweet spirit and loving soul, and together they were coping with her physical limitations. All would have been well if he hadn’t let loneliness and despair and grief short-circuit his common sense and unravel his moral fiber.

Some people emerged stronger from trials, like steel forged in fire. He’d weakened and melted.

But when you thought you were about to lose the center of your world . . . when the wife you adored slipped deeper and deeper into the abyss each day . . . when your future darkened with every passing hour . . . when you were still grieving the death of your beloved son . . . you sought solace where you could find it.

At least he had.

And he’d been paying the price ever since.

He returned to the computer, shut it down, flipped off the light, and trudged down the hall, praying for mercy, guidance, and deliverance.

Even if they were all undeserved.

16

THAT’S A WRAP FOR TODAY, LADIES. Thank you for coming back to finish up the meals for the week, and I apologize again for the skeleton crew yesterday. The summer flu that’s going around is hitting hard. I know all of our neighbors in need of a hot meal and a bit of company appreciate your efforts. God bless you, and be safe going home. It appears we’re in for a storm.”

Even as the woman who coordinated the meal prep program for area churches spoke, an ominous rumble of thunder reverberated in the distance.

Grace ditched her apron, grabbed her purse, and took off for the exit. Running Sunday errands in a downpour wouldn’t be fun. The sooner she got rolling, the less apt she’d be to arrive home waterlogged.

“I’m fine, Dave. Don’t worry about it. I can wait for you here.”

Kimberly Mullins’s voice floated over the bustle of departing volunteers, and Grace scanned the room. The woman was sitting off to the side, brow knitted, four-legged cane standing beside her.