Free Courageous by Randy Alcorn Page B

She added the fateful words: “Last week was Daddy’s birthday.”
    “His fortieth birthday,” Victoria said.
    Now they put the birthday sombrero on his head. He pictured himself pulling his Glock 23 from his shorts pocket. That would make them stand down. But it might spoil the festive mood.
    While they sang “Happy Birthday” in Spanish, the lead vocalist placed a hand on Emily’s shoulder. Adam bristled, nearly coming up out of his chair. He felt a sharp kick to his ankle. Victoria glared at him.
    Adam restrained himself as the man’s hand went back to his guitar. But he kept his eye on the man and on Emily.
    Before the song ended, Adam removed the sombrero and gave it to the band. Victoria tipped them.
    After the fourth bite of his meal, Adam got a call from Sergeant Murphy. He stepped away for three minutes, then returned. Five minutes later the phone rang again; this time it was Shane.
    Victoria shook her head at Adam the moment the phone rang. Just turn it off, her eyes pleaded.
    “It could be important,” he said as he stepped away. Shane had a possible breakthrough in an arrest they’d made two weeks earlier. Fifteen minutes later—though Adam imagined it was five—he returned to a table where all the plates but his had been cleared. Victoria’s gaze was colder than Adam’s chicken burrito.
    “Where’s Dylan?” Adam asked.
    “Jeremy, one of the boys on the track team, saw him, and they went to Best Buy. Jeremy’s taking him home.”
    “He couldn’t finish dinner with his family?”
    “He did finish dinner with his family. We all did. I mean, three of us did. The fourth was doing something more important.”
    The drive was silent. At home, while Emily took her bath, Adam approached Victoria in the bedroom. “Did you have to scold me in front of Emily?”
    “Which do you think hurt our daughter, you choosing your cop friends over your family and then blaming your son, or me simply pointing out to you what Emily already knew?”
    “It’s not that big of a deal. Emily got over it by the time we left the parking lot.”
    “She’s quick to forgive, but the time is still lost. I’m so glad you love your little girl, Adam. But remember, she has a brother, who happens to be your son.”
    “Think it’s too late for us to place him for adoption?”
    “That’s not funny, Adam!” Her eyes went from ice to fire in an instant.
    “It’s just that Emily is so low maintenance.”
    “Is that what makes you love someone? That they’re low maintenance?”
    “It sure doesn’t hurt.”
    “Emily doesn’t demand much from you. Maybe that’s because I’m the one who’s raising her.”
    Why did she have to twist the knife? Nobody understands cops. Not even their families.
    Victoria put up her hands. “You know those fatherless boys you talk about, the ones causing all the problems? Maybe you’d better do something to keep your son from becoming one of them!”

    Adam sat in his black leather recliner. Feeling guilty, angry, misunderstood, disrespected, and just plain exhausted, he began his evening ritual of flipping through channels. Here Adam Mitchell could be in control.
    After Victoria helped Emily with her homework, the two sat together on the back porch, next to Maggie. The beautiful golden retriever licked Emily’s face gratefully.
    Maggie’s despondent expression as they shut the door made her seem almost human. Victoria told Emily to wash her hands, then took a lint brush to her daughter to get off Maggie’s hairs. Adam wasn’t a fan of dog hair. Still, Victoria didn’t like feeling that she was hiding evidence from a cop.
    Emily, in her pajamas, walked down the hall toward her father. She crawled onto Adam’s lap and lay against his shoulder. He enjoyed having her nearby but wasn’t in the mood for chatter, so he continued to watch the news. It didn’t occur to him that some of the subject matter wouldn’t make sense to a nine-year-old and some of it might scare her.
    A few