Sinner by Ted Dekker Page A

started to step through.
    â€œWait. What’s your name?”
    The man in dark glasses turned his head back to her and hesitated like a man trying to decide if he should answer.
    â€œJohnny,” he said.
    â€œThen listen to me, Johnny, whoever you are. I’m begging you, I’ll do anything. Please don’t tell the judge.”
    â€œI don’t think you understand. This institution is managed by the church, but it’s state owned. We have protocol. I’ve read the file. The court has ordered your service monitored.”
    â€œThen you’re saying that there’s nothing you can do. Absolutely nothing, so help you God?”
    He stared at her for a long moment.
    â€œPlease, Johnny. It’s not like me to beg, surely you’ve gathered that much. But I’m begging you. Just give me one more chance. I’ll do anything. Legal, that is.”
    He hadn’t moved for over a minute now. Finally he pulled a pen and slip of paper from his shirt pocket, scribbled something on it, and offered it to her. She hurried forward and plucked it from his hand.
    â€œBe at this address at six o’clock tonight. We’ll talk to you.”
    She glanced at the address. “We?”
    â€œKelly and I.”
    â€œTalk to me about what?”
    â€œAbout if there’s any hope for you.”

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    CHAPTER ELEVEN
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    WASHINGTON, D.C. Darcy rode in the back of the black Lexus sport utility vehicle, trying to adjust herself after five hours of dead sleep. Billy sat to her right, still sacked out. Prior to leaving, Brian Kinnard had given her fifteen minutes to pull together what belongings she needed and promised that his people would secure the house until she returned. Someone would come for the body he’d laid out on a tarp in the garage.
    How long until she returned, Kinnard refused to speculate. But he insisted there was no need to take any personal belongings that could be replaced. Money would not be an issue.
    She’d gathered the clothes she felt most comfortable wearing—mostly jeans and cotton dresses often pegging her as a hippie—her vampire novels, journal, more novels, iPod containing her entire collection of audio-books and over a thousand albums. Her stuffed bunny, which she’d hugged every night for the last ten years, affectionately named . . . Bunny.
    The rest of her life fit on one twenty-terabyte jump drive—large enough to fit a backup of her main drive and her entire HD3D movie collection.
    When all was said and done, Darcy felt humbled by the fact that her whole world fit so easily inside two rolling duffel bags.
    Kinnard had made Billy park the Porsche next to the electric Chevy in Darcy’s garage. She watched him quickly transfer his possessions into the back of the Lexus, taking some comfort in the realization that his whole world fit into one duffel bag.
    He shrugged. “I’m not big on things.”
    â€œYeah,” she said.“Me either.”
    They’d left Lewistown and headed south through Maryland toward Washington, the District of Columbia.
    Kinnard spent the trip on the phone, setting up a meeting of what he was calling the council. It was clear that none of this so-called council was eager to drop whatever they had going tonight to meet about “something they couldn’t afford to miss,” as Kinnard was putting it. Not even “something that could change the landscape of American politics.”
    Darcy didn’t share his conviction. She had no intention of changing anything but the current situation, which was dragging her away from a good life, thank you very much.
    â€œWelcome to the Beltway,” Kinnard said as they neared their destination. “The home of politics. Abandon all hope, ye who enter.”
    They drove along I-495, eighteen lanes of expressway that formed a loop around D.C., twenty miles across.“Falls Church is that way.”Kinnard jabbed a thumb over his