Blueberry Garden

By Andre T. Hibler

Danny Ince, a twenty-two-year-old recent Christian convert and Maryland resident, exits a world of unbridled immorality, and soon thereafter, his family and close friend are murdered. The tragedy of these events begins to cripple Dannys faith, propelling him to reenter the lifestyle he just departed. Because of a lifeless airplane engine, Danny circumstantially finds himself in a Lancaster, Pennsylvania, where he befriends a man and his young-adult daughter. They shelter him and help Danny regain his faith, while the killer is still on the loose, eluding and baffling homicide investigators. Dannys stay is brief, for he is the villains next target. Danny has to put his faith into action, head back to Maryland, face the murderer, and trust God to place a hedge of protection over him and his new friends that this horrific ordeal may end.

• Language: English
• Publisher: WestBow Press
• Release date: Jun 29, 2015
• ISBN: 9781490884905

Andre T. Hibler

Andre T. Hibler is a deacon and an expository Bible teacher at Rooted Bible Fellowship Church in Edgewood, Maryland where he has faithfully served since 2004. He has been married to his wife, Clarissa, for over twenty years.

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Prologue

Decatur, Alabama, 1995

Do you see this often, Doctor? the man asked. He was standing next to his young son, who sat on the patient’s table.

The doctor listened to the young boy’s heart with a stethoscope. Occasionally. This was a common thing after World War II, frequent among soldiers returning home.

The man looked surprised. Soldiers? My son’s only five.

It’s found in children too, generally at this age. He seems to have symptoms consistent with a heart condition.

The mother, who stood a few feet away, listened with a wide ear. Excuse me, what was that, Doctor?

The man peered at his wife and then back at the doctor. Yeah, so what does that mean?

The doctor finished his examination of the patient, walked over to the door to hand a young intern some files, and turned around to address both parents. Well, the fatigue and fever can be associated with other ailments, though the additional joint inflammation and tenderness may suggest rheumatic heart disease. Though I can’t be certain—I’m just a clinical physician, not a cardiologist.

In confusion, the father squinted his eyes as if he was farsighted and trying to read a book without reading glasses.

The doctor read the man’s expression and explained his statement. Rheumatic heart disease is when the heart valves are damaged due to a rheumatic fever. I’m not saying that’s what your son has, but it’s imperative he see a cardiologist.

The doctor and the resident prepared to leave the room. Just a moment. I’ll be right back, he said as they walked out the door.

Baffled by the news, the husband and wife held their son’s hand. His feet dangled above the floor. The mother rubbed her son’s arms and shot her husband a frown. He turned away from her to eyeball the floor and thought in silence. Within several minutes the doctor returned, and the father jumped to attention as if he had heard a balloon burst.

The physician handed him a business card. This is a card of my good friend, Dr. Elie Taije. He’s a notable cardiologist. Take your son to see him. He stepped a little closer to the father and said with a whisper, This is urgent. Don’t delay.

The man still hadn’t processed the information, yet he took the card. Okay, he said.

The child looked at the various medical posters on the walls, oblivious to the adult conversation.

The doctor looked at the family with compassion. I’ll give you all a moment of privacy. The receptionist will have you sign some paperwork on the way out. Good day now, he said, firmly shaking the father’s hand. He then left the room again.

The father let out a short sigh. He held up the card to his face for his wife to see. Once they focused on it, his eyes widened, and her mouth dropped.

The mother shook her head in disbelief. Our son, our son, she said, wrapping her arms around him as he rested his face at her side. Please…please.

The father took in a short breath with a hesitant tongue. He gave his wife a look of affirmation, nodded his head in approval, and gently caressed her face. He took his son by the other hand, and they got up and left the room.

Baltimore, Maryland, 2011

The man bolted out of the parking lot across one street and onto another street. He looked over his shoulder to see if his pursuer was closing in on him. The night set in. The evening rush hour had subsided, and the pedestrian traffic had slowed. He ran for his life, hearing gunshots in close proximity to his body being discharged by his pursuer. The pursuer, close behind the runner, aimed his semiautomatic handgun in the air and fired several more times, missing his target on every round. The runner ran one block off of the street into a small open bay of vehicles. He twisted his ankle on a curb and ran to the far east corner of the garage, scurrying behind cars to seek cover behind a cement wall. His fear rejected the pain.

The pursuer entered the area and lost sight of the runner around the parked cars. Cars filled the garage, and it appeared to be empty. Fearful that someone would enter, the pursuer put his gun in his rear waistband and covered it with his shirt. The runner pinned his back against the wall. He breathed slowly and didn’t move, trying not to give away his location.

The pursuer turned around to survey the all the vehicles to see if the runner would jump out and flee again. The runner saw the pursuer with his back turned, and without hesitation, he knelt down to take cover behind a Toyota Camry, making a slight noise when his shoulder hit the rear bumper. The pursuer spun around in an instant, slowly removed the gun from his rear waistband, aimed it at forty-five-degree angle toward the ground, and walked tactically in the direction of the sound.

The runner felt the pursuer’s presence approaching by the second. He thought about making a break for it, but where would he go? He balled his fists and closed his eyes in a moment of desperation and then reopened them. He envisioned two funeral home laymen lowering his casket into the ground, his loved ones looking on with sadness. From his chin, a drop of sweat splattered the pavement.

Tears dripped down his cheeks, face frantic. There was nothing he could do. The pursuer was less than ten seconds away. I accept my fate, the runner thought. He looked up, and in a flash he saw the barrel of a semiautomatic pistol two inches away from his forehead. The pursuer, with a look of humble satisfaction, began to squeeze the trigger.

Without warning, one shot rang out, striking the pursuer in the neck. Like a heavy military duffel bag, he dropped dead. The gun flung from his hand, hitting the ground. Surprised to see he was still alive, the runner’s heart thumped harder than a bass drum. Will I survive? Or will this be an agonizing death? He felt his body to ensure he hadn’t been struck. He eased his head around the right bumper to see two hands clutching the pistol grip of a handgun. He dipped his head back around the bumper for cover. The petrified soul saw the glimpse of another violent episode about to commence. Again, he felt the footsteps of death advancing in his direction.

Chaos

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Chapter 1

Sunday, May 1

Ten days earlier…

The Ince family had their monthly dinner date at their home in Bel Air. Ed, the father, was a tall and stout man in his midforties who looked like a retired NFL lineman. Pam, the mother, was a five-foot-five, opinionated extrovert. Their two adult sons, Corey and Danny, who lived out of their parents’ house, faithfully attended their monthly family feast. They all gathered around the table.

See anything good at the auction? Ed asked Corey, biting the chicken off his fork.

Just a few Maximas and some BMW 740 series. Nothing spectacular, Corey said, sipping his grape juice.

You’re kidding me. I had a few customers come in looking for a 740, and y’know the Maxima is Nissan’s four-door sports car. We have to let the customer know that the car that interests them will benefit their transportation needs.

In ways they never thought of. I’m on it, Pop. Got some ideas in mind.

I know you do, Son. As my firstborn, you’ll be my successor of Luxury Motors, taking over both dealerships and maybe expanding them globally. We’ll be like Nissan, Honda, all the big-name manufacturers.

Indeed, Corey said, grinning.

Ed pointed to Corey with a smile. You said, ‘I’m on it.’ Be about it, Son. Think outside the box. He directed his attention to Danny. A profitable position awaits you if you ever become interested.

Danny joined the conversation. Selling luxury cars is not my thing. My future office won’t be on the ground. But Dad, how do you sell a vehicle to a person who can’t afford to buy it? That’s a common thing. But is it morally right?

The question wasn’t directed at Pam, but she countered. She knew Danny’s comment involved the topic of God.

Jesus sold the gospel but your father and brother can’t legitimately sell cars? How you know the gospel is true? What about Mohammed? He sold his truth. Is Jesus the only truth?

Danny was taken aback. He was interested only in a family dinner, not a religious showdown with his mother. He replied courteously.

Just curious, that’s all. No harm intended. I’m not trying to turn this into a Bible discussion.

Oh no, Pam said, picking up her fork. Why the morality question then? Tell me something. What is so moral—?

Ed cut her off. The night is young, the air is warm, business is good, and there’s unprovoked tension at the dinner table. We’re blessed, baby. Now let’s enjoy our time with our boys.

Corey shifted the discussion. Spotted some nice eighteen-inch wheels at No Limit for your Lexus, Mom. It’ll match the metallic silver, offset the tint. Real nice.

All right now. Have your mama looking good in her ride. You and Dad work that out, exotic car gurus, she said, grinning and scooping the broccoli off her plate.

She glanced at Danny as if he were a toddler in time-out. Don’t be an abusive, Bible-thumping preacher like your grandfather. Seven years it took Mama to get from under his torment. What does Jesus say about abuse?

Don’t know. I’m sure he doesn’t approve of it, Danny said, wiping his mouth. Grandma Bea has a new start in Delaware; Grandpa Ted repented of his sins before he died and is with the Lord in glory. God’s forgiven him. Why couldn’t you’ve forgiven your own father?

Pam slammed her fork on the table. Don’t tell me about forgiveness. I grew up in that man’s house. In my bedroom, I could hear Mama being knocked and thrown around in her room, begging for mercy. She didn’t deserve that. No woman does. To this day, I can still hear the thumps.

That’s one of the powers of Christ. It gives us the power to forgive others in spite of ourselves because he first forgave us. We all need forgiveness, Danny said with passion.

You sit there with your inexperienced life, a life of recently renounced, disgraceful vices, and now you’ve found Jesus. So you’re a holy roller all of a sudden. Who’s worse, you or my father?

Neither, Corey said. We’re still fam. Let’s just eat and enjoy the rest of our day. Who wants dessert? Old-fashioned butter pecan is calling my name.

Yeah, Pam said, pushing her plate aside. Ice cream sounds good. Get me two scoops, baby.

Corey asked everyone their choice of carbs before he got up from the table. Pam gave Danny another hard look. Jesus don’t head my life, and he don’t head this house, so—

Right, I do, Ed said. And as the head, this discussion is officially over. Enough has been said.

After the dinner table verbal vigor, Corey noticed his father choking on his food and reaching for his throat. Danny and Pam also took notice.

Dad, you all right? Corey asked.

Ed couldn’t respond. He dropped his fork, held his stomach, and started vomiting on the floor. Everyone panicked. Corey sprung out of his seat to brace Ed’s body as he came out of the chair. Ed, now on the floor holding his abdomen, started to lose consciousness. The fear in Pam’s eyes pulsated through her body to her fingertips, hands shaking when she looked at them. She got out of her chair and touched Ed on the back on the head, calling out