All Through the Night by Davis Bunn Page A

on the mainland, was a community of retirees in their little houses, three of which could fit into this guy’s living room. Reality.
    Grey asked, “Are you saved?”
    The guy would just not let it go. “As a kid I walked the walk, but mostly for my dad. When I left home I pretty much left all the God stuff as well. So the answer is, I really have no idea.”
    They were seated in padded rattan chairs, with a glass-topped rattan table between them. The table was octagonal, like the room. The table was positioned precisely over an identical section of marble laid into the floor. The marble was as blue as the waters beyond the bay windows.
    “Well, it wouldn’t be the first time God uses a miracle to bring a nonbeliever home.”
    To either side of Grey’s chair were smaller versions of the rattan table. On one rested an open Bible, a pad, and a pencil. The two pages of Scripture Wayne could see were heavily annotated, words underlined, passages highlighted, comments scrawled in the top and bottom and side margins.
    Grey said, “Obviously my questions have made you uncomfortable, Mr. Grusza. I apologize. But you must understand that this is a very important issue to me.”
    A well-kept woman of middle years entered the kitchen. Wayne took her for Grey’s wife. She paused by the central island, straightened a container on the granite top, and moved out of Wayne’s field of vision. Something about the way she held herself, or how she glanced over and took them all in, the tight focus she pressed upon Wayne, left him certain. There was nothing off hand about her passage.
    Wayne said, “Could you tell me about what happened?”
    “I was at the dentist.”
    “When was it?”
    “A week ago. Last Thursday afternoon. The dentist was running late. There was some kind of emergency. The receptionist asked if I’d like to reschedule, but it was so hard to find the time, I thought I might as well stay. I returned a couple of calls. Gradually the place emptied out until I was the only one left. That was when he appeared.”
    The young girl passed by their window. Up close she resembled her father a lot—the same spare frame, the same intelligent grey eyes, the same reserve. She gave Wayne a hard stare, then glanced at her father. Clearly very worried. The Lab kept tugging on the Frisbee she held in her right hand, trying to get her to play some more. But the girl knew what was going on inside that little room, and it worried all the play out of her.
    Wayne asked, “Can you describe this person?”
    “African-American. Hard to guess his age. Late twenties, possibly a bit older. I’d put him at about six feet. A handsome, strong-looking face, clearly defined angles, hair cropped very short. Not big. But he moved like an athlete.”
    “How was he dressed?”
    “Florida standard—polo shirt, pressed khakis, loafers.”
    “Anything about him that caught your eye?”
    “Nothing except a sense of power.”
    “What did he say?”
    “That he was a messenger sent by the Most High God.”
    The way Grey spoke the words, calm and straight ahead, made the angel almost real. “You didn’t think to question this?”
    “At first I thought he was a pastor. I meet so many of them. Perhaps I had donated to his cause, or maybe he was going to ask me for help. I had a thousand thoughts running through my head. But one thought stood out above all the others. This man was for real.”
    Wayne glanced over. Tatyana had extracted a notepad and silver pen. But she wrote nothing. And she saw only her boss. Her expression was unreadable. But her features had gone very pale. Wayne asked, “What else did he say?”
    “The exchange lasted a grand total of ninety seconds. He told me that he had been sent to warn me. That I and my family and my charges were in grave danger.”
    “That was the word he used, ‘charges’?”
    The skin around his eyes tightened. “You know, that was an interesting thing. When he said the word, he hesitated. Like he