Dallas Hamilton’s perfect world is torn apart when her husband, a rising superstar in the evangelical world, is arrested for the murder of a porn star.
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James Scott Bell, a former trial lawyer, is the bestselling author of Try Dying, The Whole Truth, No Legal Grounds, Deadlock, and Sins of the Fathers. A winner of the Christy Award for excellence in Christian fiction, he lives in Los Angeles with his wife, Cindy. Visit his website at www.jamescottbell.com.
Murder, betrayal, and a trial that feeds a media frenzy.
Can one woman stand against the forces that threaten to tear her family apart?
Pastor Ron Hamilton's star is rising. His 8,000-strong church is thriving. His good looks and charisma make him an exceptional speaker on family values. And his book on pornography in the church has become an unexpected bestseller. Everything is perfect.
Until a young woman's body is discovered in a seedy motel room. The woman is a porn star. And all the evidence in the murder points to one man: Ron.
With the noose tightening around her husband's neck, Dallas Hamilton faces a choice: believe the seemingly irrefutable facts--or the voice of her heart. The press has already reached its verdict, and the public echoes it. But Dallas is determined to do whatever it takes to find the truth.
And then a dark secret from Dallas's past threatens to take them all down.
As the clock ticks toward Ron's conviction and imprisonment, and an underworld of evil encircles her, Dallas must gather all her trust in God to discover what really happened in that motel room . . . even if it means losing faith in her husband forever.
PrologueMy life is marked by contrasts --- then and now, light and darkness.Heaven and hell.Marked too by memory.I remember the exact moment it started.In fact, in a perverse recollection of detail, I even know what Iwas wearing --- Dockers slacks and a blue golf shirt with the WaileaEmerald Course logo on it. My shoes were the brown slip-ons my wifehad bought for me online a couple of months earlier. No socks.I was in my office, looking out the window at the stunning view ofthe valley. The church occupied twenty of the most valuable acres inSouthern California, prime property we bought when we outgrew oursmaller space in Northridge ten years before.And I can remember my thought patterns that day, leading up tothe moment she walked in. I was thinking of Moses, another mountaintopman, and how his human frailty kept him from the Promised Land.He struck the rock, and water flowed, but he had disobeyed God.As I was about to do.And that is why I am here.A jail cell is smaller than it looks in some old James Cagney movie.When you're in one it doesn't seem possible for life to continue, for thepaper-thin fragility that is human existence to sustain itself.But since my life has ceased to exist, I suppose nothing is lost.Do I suppose I can regain my life by writing down these confessions?Or am I writing just so I can eventually place another volume on myshelf?Yes, even within these walls, my ambition bares its teeth and grindsthrough the lining of my guilt. Maybe that's why I'm here. Maybe that'swhy God put me here after all.Maybe that's why I did the unthinkable.Unthinkable, at least, if you were to look at me ten years ago. Evenfive. Then you would have seen a star. Not a comet, flaming out, a fadingtail of cosmic dust in its wake.No, a real star set in the evangelical heavenlies.Then I fell, let it all slip away, that day in my office overlooking thevalley.How did it happen? All I know is that, somehow, it began.It began with a plea.Part IOther men's sins are before our eyes;our own are behind our back.Seneca1.'Help me. Please.'A note of hopelessness vibrated under the girl's voice, a softtrilling like a night bird's cry. Ron Hamilton felt it in his chest --- anelectric snap, a static in the heart.'I'll do anything I can,' he told the girl. She must have beenaround twenty, though he had long since given up guessing ages.When he turned fifty a year ago, he was certain selected segmentsof his brain went into meltdown, like a kid's snow cone on a hotsummer day.'I've done a terrible thing, I don't know what to do.' The girllooked at the floor, and when she did, Ron couldn't help noticingher shape under the snug dress. It was a red summery thing, withthin straps over the shoulders. Before he could stop it, his gazelingered, then he forced himself to look away. His focus landed onhis seminary diploma, hanging on his office wall. Doctor of Divinity.But he couldn't keep looking at it and give her the attention shedeserved.How was he going to avert his eyes if this interview continued?Best thing he could do was put her at ease, then ease her outof the office. The interview would be over and he'd pass her off tosomeone else, maybe the professional counseling team the churchhad an arrangement with.'I'm sorry. Let's back up.' He looked at the Post-It note on hisdesk, the one where he'd scribbled her name: Melinda Perry.'How long have you been coming to church here, Melinda?''Little less than a year.'Ron didn't recognize her face. But then, with the church atroughly eight thousand members, it would have been easy for herto blend in. So many others did. 'What attracted you here?' he asked, putting his marketing haton. He couldn't help himself sometimes. Seventeen years of goodmarketing sense had built up Hillside Community Church.She looked at him. 'You.'Another electrical snap went off inside him. And this time ittripped an alarm. Danger here. Remember last year . . .Yet he found himself wanting to know exactly what MelindaPerry meant. What could that hurt?'I listened to you on the radio,' she said.Made sense. His sermons were recorded and played on L.A.'ssecond largest Christianradio station. Three times throughout theweek.'Well, I'm glad somebody's listening.' He laughed.She didn't laugh. 'You don't know what it meant. You saved mylife.'Now he was hooked. 'Really?''Oh, yes. You preach from the Bible, right?''Always.' Well, he attached Bible verses to his favorite topics.'You were talking about something to do with heaven. Do youremember that?'He fought the temptation to smile. 'I talk about heaven quite abit --- ''In this one, you said heaven was going to be a place, a real place,where we'll live.''Yes, what the Bible calls the new earth.''And streets made out of gold and all that?''All that, yes.''And I was thinking of snuffing my candle, Pastor Ron, I reallywas. You don't know what I've been through.' She paused. 'Anyway,I was flipping around the radio stations and I heard you. Iheard your voice. I thought what a nice voice. You really have cooltones, Pastor.''Thanks.' Heat seeped into his cheeks.'And what you said about heaven made me cry, it really hit me,and that's why I started coming to Hillside. I sit in the back mostly.I don't want peopleto get too close to me.' 'But why not?''That's part of the reason I'm here. To tell you why.'Did she have a boyfriend? She looked like she could have manyboyfriends.'But I'm afraid,' she said.'Of what?''Talking about it.'He wanted to know. 'Would it help to talk to a professionalcounselor? I can arrange for you to have a free session with a --- ''No. I want to talk to you. You're the only one who can helpme.''There are others who are trained --- ''No.' She almost sounded angry. 'You have to tell me first.''Tell you what?''If God can ever forgive me.'Without so much as a beat, he ran off a familiar message. 'That'swhat God does best. He forgives us. Anything.''Anything? Even something so bad . . .' She looked down.There was no way he was going to let her go now. He almostgot up to put a comforting hand on her shoulder, but the alarmsounded again, and he stayed in his chair.'Go ahead and tell me. Take your time.'He watched her chest rise with breath.'All right,' she said. 'It started this way.'Dallas Hamilton put her hand over her left eye and said,'Whoop-de-do!'The boy looked at her, confused, then shook his head. 'That'snot a pirate.''You think all pirates have to say argh?'The boy, a six-year-old named Jamaal, nodded tentatively.'How boring! You can be any kind of pirate you want. That'sthe thing about the imagination. And this ship can be as big as youwant it to be.'
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