Hearts on the Line

“Do you think there’s a connection between the fire chief, the museum curator and Baltasar Escalante?” Becca asked her partner.

Her mind spun with the incidents that had occurred over the past few months in Colorado Springs, all wrapped up in the Vance and Montgomery families, who had been instrumental in Escalante’s downfall the year before.

When she thought of the drug lord being alive, she grew chilled. Once again she pictured Quinn Montgomery, with his chocolate-brown eyes and a smile that could melt a woman’s heart. He could take care of himself, but worry over his safety took hold and she couldn’t shake off her concern. Someone had tried to burn his business down and had nearly succeeded. What if he’d been in the shop when it had been set on fire?

FAITH AT THE CROSSROADS: Can faith and love sustain two families against a diabolical enemy?

A TIME TO PROTECT—Lois Richer (LIS#13)

THE DANGER WITHIN—Valerie Hansen (LIS#15)

THROUGH THE FIRE—Sharon Mignerey (LIS#17)

IN THE ENEMY’S SIGHTS—Marta Perry (LIS#19)

STRICTLY CONFIDENTIAL—Terri Reed (LIS#21)

HEARTS ON THE LINE—Margaret Daley (LIS#23)

MARGARET DALEY

feels she has been blessed. She has been married more than thirty years to her husband, Mike, whom she met in college. He is a terrific support and her best friend. They have one son, Shaun.

Margaret has been writing for many years and loves to tell a story. When she was a little girl, she would play with her dolls and make up stories about their lives. Now she writes these stories down. She especially enjoys weaving stories about families and how faith in God can sustain a person when things get tough. When she isn’t writing, she is fortunate to be a teacher for students with special needs. Margaret has taught for over twenty years and loves working with her students. She has also been a Special Olympics coach and participated in many sports with her students.

Hearts On The Line
Margaret Daley

Special thanks and acknowledgment are given to Margaret Daley for her contribution to the FAITH at the CROSSROADS miniseries.

To Therese, Vickie, Jan, Caron and Gloria

Thank you for all your support and friendship.

To Captain Carole Newell

Thank you for all your help in researching what

a hostage negotiator does.

Behold, God is my salvation; I will trust, and not be afraid; for the Lord Jehovah is my strength and my song; He also has become my salvation.

—Isaiah 12:2

CONTENTS

CAST OF CHARACTERS

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

EPILOGUE

DISCUSSION QUESTIONS

CAST OF CHARACTERS

Quinn Montgomery—The target of vandalism and arson, the head of Montgomery Construction was ready for a break from all the tension. But with a madman on the loose gunning for the entire Montgomery clan, Quinn needed his faith to get him through….

Rebecca Hilliard—The Colorado Springs police detective had been busy for months investigating the various crimes perpetrated against the Vance and Montgomery families. Was she too busy for romance with Quinn?

Baltasar Escalante—The drug lord was hiding out in Colorado Springs with a new face, plotting to take back his only living heir. He’d vowed to destroy his hated enemies for taking his son away from him…but would he succeed?

Ritchie Stark—The small-time criminal had moved himself up in the crime world. Was he El Jefe, the brains behind the drug operation, or was he just a small fish in a large, deadly pond?

PROLOGUE

“Did anyone follow you?” Baltasar Escalante stepped out from the shadows cast by the pine trees.

Dahlia Sainsbury came to a halt on the trail path, feeling out of place in high heels and a pale-blue silk suit, but then she hadn’t had time to change since leaving her office, having spent the past few days trying to convince the police she knew nothing about the drugs being moved beneath the museum. “No, I made sure before turning into the park.” She smoothed a few strands of her hair that had come loose from her chignon.

Pausing in front of Baltasar, she scanned the area, half expecting the police to surround them after the incident with Alessandro and Colleen in the mine tunnels. “We can still leave for England, especially now that the authorities know about your involvement with the drugs.” Her time in Colorado Springs was coming to an end. A little more time to cover her tracks and set a trap for Escalante, then she would be gone.

“I am not leaving until I’ve finished what I came here for.”

The steel thread woven through his words sent a shiver down Dahlia. In the nearly full moon she saw his whipcord body stiffen, his hands fisted at his sides. “They know you’re behind everything that’s happening in Colorado Springs. Every police officer in the city is looking for you. Is the revenge worth getting caught?” She knew his answer even before he said anything because it was the same as hers. He would pay for having her half brother killed. They were alike in a lot of ways.

“I will not get caught. I have a place to hide out until I carry out the rest of my plans because, my dear, revenge is sweet. The Vances and Montgomerys will pay for destroying my life. They will suffer as I have.”

She couldn’t help the chill that rippled through her again.

“Cold, querida?” Escalante moved into her personal space, drawing her into his embrace.

The wind picked up and teased the few stray strands of her hair. “Just worried about you,” she said in a voice filled with sincerity. She was getting good at lying. She agreed revenge would be sweet once he was dead.

Tilting up her chin, Escalante looked into her eyes as though delving beneath the surface to discover the true person behind the facade she presented. He dipped his head forward and brushed his lips across hers. She suppressed the shudder and tried to return his kiss with the feelings expected of a lover. But his cold kiss left her chilled.

Baltasar shifted. Something pressed into her chest. Then he backed away a few paces. In the moonlight Dahlia saw the gun in his hand. A gun pointed at her heart.

She couldn’t take her eyes off the weapon. “Why?”

“You are Alistair Barclay’s sister. Did you think I wouldn’t find out? I wanted to double-cross you first.”

The icy declaration sealed her fate. She whirled to run. A deafening sound pierced the air at the same time as the force of the bullet propelled her forward. She went down on her knees. Pain gripped her as blackness hovered….

ONE

On the path, Detective Becca Hilliard paused for a second, taking in her surroundings at the Garden of the Gods Park. As she approached a crime scene, she liked to get her bearings, especially when it was outside.

The metallic stench of blood laced the cool morning air. A pale-blue sky with a few streaks of white stretched out above her. The soaring red rock formations in the park and Pikes Peak jutting upward in the background vied for her attention. The day was beautiful. Too beautiful for a murder, but since being transferred to homicide, she had learned a murder could happen anywhere, anytime.

A few uniforms stationed around the perimeter of the crime scene and, off to the side, a young couple with her partner, Sam Vance, were the only people in this more isolated area of the park. The man had his arm around the woman, trying to comfort her. Sam spoke to the blond lady whose pale, tear-streaked face brought forth all the churning emotions Becca experienced when viewing a violent crime. She wasn’t sure she would ever be able to anesthetize herself completely when seeing a dead body, as some of her fellow police officers had managed to do.

Sam gave her a nod and headed toward her. “We gotta stop meeting like this.”

“I wish.”

“It’s Dahlia Sainsbury, the curator at the Colorado Springs Impressionist Museum. With all that has happened lately, I can’t say that I’m surprised by this murder.”

“Especially since she’s suspected of a connection to the drugs that were being distributed from the tunnels under the museum. Alessandro was sure she knew what was going on. He believes that she tried to poison Colleen. It would have only been a matter of time before we had enough evidence to formally charge her.”

“Yeah, she was playing with the big boys, and they don’t play fair.”

“Do you think Escalante killed her because of what happened in the tunnels with Alessandro? If so, why?” Becca gestured toward the face-down body of Dahlia, a bullet hole in her back, red fanning out from it. Becca’s gaze riveted to the dead woman’s left arm, which was stretched out above her head. “It certainly wasn’t robbery. That diamond bracelet on her arm has to be worth a small fortune. And her purse is next to her.”

“With everything in it, as far as we can tell. It clearly wasn’t robbery. She was shot at very close range.”

“Which means she either was surprised or knew the person who shot her and was running away. How long has she been dead?”

“With lividity and rigor mortis, the medical examiner says between six and ten hours. He’ll know more after he examines the body at the morgue.”

“So what was Dahlia Sainsbury doing in the park after hours?”

“Meeting someone? We found a set of footprints near the body. A man’s, from the size.”

Becca stepped closer to the body and examined it, making sure not to disturb any evidence since the crime-scene unit hadn’t arrived yet. “It doesn’t look like there was much of a struggle. Who found her? That couple?”

“Yeah, I’ve got some uniforms canvassing the area to see if anyone else heard something, but I doubt it with this place’s isolation.”

“Let’s separate our couple. You take the man. I’ll take the woman.” Becca made her way toward the pair.

The blonde raised her head, her teary gaze taking in Becca’s approach.

“Hello, I’m Detective Becca Hilliard. May I have a word with you?” She placed her hand on the woman’s arm and directed her to the side, away from the young man. Reaching into her jacket pocket of her navy blue pantsuit, she retrieved her pad and pen then continued, “I’m so sorry you had to find this. It’s never easy, Ms….?”

“Carrie Young,” the woman said with a sniffle, brushing her hand across her cheek.

“Is that your boyfriend? Husband?”

Carrie glanced at the man talking to Sam. “Just a good friend. We like to hike together. This was our favorite trail until—” She hugged her arms to herself, her eyelids sliding closed for a few seconds while she sucked gulps of air into her lungs.

“Tell me what happened.” Even after eight years on the force, Becca had a hard time dealing with the effects that a death caused on the people left behind. Interviewing the person who found a body or a loved one of the victim drained her emotionally.

“There isn’t much to tell. We were walking along the trail. She isn’t hard to see. She’s—she’s—” Carrie swallowed several times “—right there two feet from the path.” She waved her hand in the direction of the body but didn’t look at it, her mouth compressed into a frown.

“Did you touch her or anything?”

Carrie’s eyes grew round. “Me? No! I couldn’t. Bud did, though. He checked for a pulse to see if she was alive.”

“Where?”

“On her neck. He said she was cold.” Carrie shuddered, clasping her arms even tighter to her. “I had my cell phone. I called the police. We waited for them at the trail head. I couldn’t wait here.” Another tremor shook the woman.

“Can you think of anything else?”

“She wasn’t dressed for hiking or the outdoors. She looks like she was dressed for a date.”

Becca remembered the spiked blue heels and matching silk dress that Dahlia wore and had to agree with Carrie. Who had she been dating? Becca jotted a note to herself to check into that. Maybe this wasn’t connected to the drug gang, Escalante and everything else that had happened in the past few months, starting with the attempted murder of the mayor. First rule of police work: don’t assume anything.

The ring on Becca’s cell phone blared “Old MacDonald Had a Farm.” She unhooked it from her waist and flipped it open. “Hilliard here.”

“A man’s threatening to jump off the new building going up at Carson and Quincy.”

“I can be there in fifteen.” She clipped the phone back on her belt and said to Carrie, “I have to leave. My partner will take the rest of your statement.” She quickly moved to Sam. “Can you finish? That was Sarge. I’ve got a jumper.”

“Sure,” Sam said as she started down the trail at a jog.

Two minutes later, as the crime-scene unit pulled into the parking lot, Becca peeled out, siren on, and raced toward the construction site, hoping she could make it before the person carried through with his threat. As a member of the negotiation team for the police department, she responded to hostage, suicide or barricade situations when the need arose. Her heart raced, with adrenaline pumping into her system as fast as her car sped toward her destination.

Becca drove to the cordoned-off area where the team leader had set up his command post. Beyond the barricade a crowd of people gathered with their attention glued to the top of the unfinished building. Leaping from her car, she went to her trunk and removed her body armor. The man threatening suicide stood on the top ledge ten stories up. Most likely he didn’t have a gun, but she never knew, so she always wore protection.

“What do we have, Sarge?” Becca asked the team leader, Carl Johnson, as she slipped on her body armor.

“I just got here myself a few minutes ago. Quinn Montgomery called 911 and is talking to the man right now. He’s the man’s boss, owns the company putting up this building. The first person on the scene was a uniform. He’s up there now with Montgomery.”

“Who’s the jumper?”

“David James. Don’t know much yet. Here, put this transmitter on.” Sarge handed her a beeperlike device to clip at her waist. “And use this earpiece. I’ll feed you information on the jumper as I get it.”

She rode the elevator to the top floor and hurried toward the stairs that led to the roof, nodding toward the uniformed officer standing guard at the door. Wind played with stray strands of her ponytail. The sun beat down, heating the concrete. She’d prefer to wear her sunglasses, but it was important for David James to see her eyes and connect with her. Instead, she squinted against the glare and headed toward a large man standing a few feet from the jumper, who was poised on the ledge. One step the wrong way and David would go down ten stories.

“David, I’ll help you any way I can. Just come down from there.”

Montgomery’s deep, baritone voice held a calm, soothing tone. Becca was impressed that even his stance didn’t convey any irritation or anger. She placed her hand on Montgomery’s arm to indicate she was present since his full attention was on his employee. He gave her a slight nod but kept his gaze trained on the jumper.

David glanced her way. His eyes widened. He took a small step to the side away from her and Montgomery, but didn’t say anything.

“Hello, David. I’m Becca Hilliard. I’m a negotiator with the police. I’d like to help you.”

“Help me? No one can!”

Becca moved next to Montgomery, aware that his gaze was now on her. The air sizzled with tension. “You don’t think anyone can help you?”

David’s attention darted to Montgomery then back to her. “My wife left me and took the kids. Can you bring her back and make everything like it was before—” He worked his mouth but no more words came out. Peering away, he clenched his hands at his sides.

Montgomery started to take a step toward David. Becca stopped him and shook her head. She mouthed the words, “Too dangerous.”

David looked at her again. “I want things back the way they were.”

“You sound frustrated.”

“I am. There was no warning. I came home yesterday and she was gone.” Anger lining his face, the jumper snapped his fingers, the gesture making him wobble.

Becca held her breath, knowing if he lost his balance neither she nor Montgomery would be able to reach the man in time. David steadied himself, his eyes growing round as he glimpsed the ground ten stories below. That was a good sign. Perhaps David hadn’t thought this suicide attempt completely through. In her earpiece Sarge told her he would see what he could discover about David’s wife.

“Do you plan to commit suicide, David?” she asked, having learned it was important to establish that up front.

He blinked. Montgomery stiffened beside her.

“I—I—don’t—” David cleared his throat. “Yes. I don’t have anything to live for. My family’s gone. I have bills I can’t pay.”

Becca started to push Montgomery back toward the stairs, where it was safer, when he interjected, “I’ll help you with that, David.”

The jumper’s gaze swung to the man next to her. Surprised by the offer, she, too, wanted to look at Montgomery, but she didn’t dare take her eyes off David James. Again she acknowledged the calm power behind Montgomery’s words, as though he knew instinctively what to do in a situation like this.

“You see, there are ways to help you, David. If you come down from there, we can talk about it.” Becca concentrated on keeping her voice even, nonthreatening.

For a long moment David didn’t say anything, then he shook his head as though trying to rid his mind of some image. “Help? I’ve tried talking to her. She won’t listen.”

“When you tried to talk to your wife, she wouldn’t listen?”

David slowly turned so he could face her, but he remained on the foot-wide ledge. “Yes. I left messages at her mother’s all evening and this morning for her to call me. She didn’t! I was late to work because of her.”

“Maybe she didn’t get your messages.”

Surprise flickered across his features. “You might be right! It would be just like her mother not to tell her about my calls. She hates me.”

“Come down here and we can try again.” Becca pulled out her cell phone, dangling it in front of him as though it were a prize he couldn’t possibly resist.

David glanced at the ground to his left, then back at Becca. She held her breath, hoping he would follow her gentle command. Sometimes that worked, especially if he hadn’t totally thought through committing suicide.

David shrugged. “Okay.”

Montgomery released a heavy sigh that mirrored her own feelings as she watched David climb down from the ledge and walk toward her, holding his hand out for the cell phone.

As he neared her, she began heading toward the stairs to the tenth floor below, saying, “Do you want me to make the call?” She wanted to get him as far away from the ledge as possible.

“No, I will.”

David came up beside her while Montgomery took the rear. After passing the phone to David, she threw a glance over her shoulder, wishing Montgomery was a police officer in case they ended up in a scuffle. She hated involving civilians. Montgomery smiled and nodded as though he could read her mind and was reassuring her he could take care of himself. With his muscular build, no doubt he could, she decided, a connection arcing between her and Montgomery. They were both determined to keep David from jumping.

“Trish, pick up. This is David. I’ve got to talk to you. Please!”

Anger, mixed with frustration, returned to David’s face. Becca slowly retrieved her handcuffs from her pocket and prepared for if he decided to dash for the ledge again. If she had her way, he wouldn’t, now that she had him down from it.

He snapped the phone closed and cursed. “She’s gonna regret not taking my call when—”

Before David had a chance to finish his sentence, Becca grabbed his arm and twisted first one, then the other, behind his back and locked the handcuffs on his wrists. David jerked around, obviously intending to head back up to the roof. Montgomery blocked David’s path in the stairwell to the tenth floor. From behind, several uniformed officers rushed up and whisked the jumper away, as he screamed his frustration.

All the emotions and tension she had held at bay during the ordeal flooded Becca the minute she realized David wouldn’t be jumping that day, that he might get the help he needed. While the uniform officers led him away, she sagged against the handrail, squeezing her eyes closed and drawing in cleansing breaths.

“Thank you.”

Montgomery’s deep voice penetrated the place she went in her mind where she tried to regroup after a negotiation. When she opened her eyes, he stood right in front of her, filling her vision, all six feet two inches of him. Now that she had the time to examine him, he took her breath away. Dressed in faded jeans and a short-sleeved blue shirt, he reinforced her earlier impression that he was all muscles and power. His chocolate brown eyes twinkled as the seconds ticked into a full minute and she hadn’t said anything. A flush actually colored his cheeks.

“I’m sorry. I don’t usually stare at people unless I think they’re going to commit a crime. But after a negotiation, I’m wiped out, even when they don’t last long, like this one.”

The corner of his mouth cocked upward. “I think I know the feeling. I was so glad when you showed up.” He plowed both hands through his short russet-colored hair, then scrubbed them down his face as though to wash the past hour from his mind. “I don’t know how you do it. Are you called out much?”

“More than I wish. Usually a few times a month.” She extended her hand. “Thank you for your help.”

He took her hand within his and shook it. “I wasn’t gonna let David jump.”

His determination underscored her own in situations like this, and the connection she had felt earlier between them crackled again.

Still grasping her hand, he said, “But you don’t have to worry about me applying for your job. One officer of the law in the family is enough for me.”

The firmness and warmth in his touch conveyed the man she had heard about from his brother, Brendan, a former police officer who had until recently worked with her. She’d casually known Quinn Montgomery from afar, but suddenly there seemed nothing casual between them now.

“I miss Brendan at the CSPD, but he seems to be settling in at the FBI,” Becca said, trying to dismiss the feeling of interest hovering below the surface.

“Yeah, he’s a regular Elliot Ness.”

“Not J. Edgar Hoover?” She started down the stairs, realizing that Sarge would be waiting for her.

“Nah, Brendan’s more a hands-on type of guy, like me.”

“Is that why you were here? Isn’t Montgomery Construction a big operation?”

“I like to be involved in all the projects as much as possible, especially with what has happened lately.”

“That’s right. Wasn’t there a fire at your business a few months back?”

“Yeah, my carpentry shop and storage barn were destroyed. A lot of things have been happening to the Montgomery family lately. It pays to keep an eye open. What’s going to happen to David?” Quinn punched the down button for the elevator.

“He’ll get the help he needs.” She slanted a glance toward Quinn Montgomery, trying to remember all that Brendan had told her about his older brother. “Did you mean what you said about helping him with his bills?”

He nodded. “He’ll need it.”

“I’ve got a feeling David will appreciate it, especially when he straightens out his life.” Now she remembered what Brendan had once said about his older brother. He was a man whose word was good as gold. She liked that.

Stepping onto the elevator, Quinn said, “I’m in your debt for showing up when you did. I didn’t know how I was going to get him down from that ledge. I’d run out of ideas.”

“You were doing a pretty good job of keeping him calm. The important thing was that David was still there when I showed up.”

That cocky smile reappeared. “I was afraid he could hear my knees knocking and the sound would drive him over the edge.”

She laughed.

He liked the sound of her laughter—light, musical, as if it danced on the air. “Seriously, if I can do anything for you, return the favor in any way, please let me know.”

“I was just doing my job, Mr. Montgomery.”

“Quinn, and that doesn’t mean I can’t feel indebted to you for your assistance up on the roof, Becca. David was one of my employees, part of my family.”

She turned her head toward him, her ponytail flying to one side with the sudden movement. That drew his attention to her light-brown hair, streaked with blond coloring. Her large hazel eyes focused on him, making him aware of the small confines in the elevator. For a moment his gaze connected with hers, and he became lost in her light-brown depths with green specks.

She blinked, stepping back a pace. “Thank you, but—”

The elevator doors whooshed open and the noise and activity rushed in to remind Quinn of what had just transpired for the past sixty minutes. What she was about to say to him was lost as a big man in a police uniform approached them.

“Becca, you did a good job.” The man looked toward Quinn. “I’m the team leader, Carl Johnson. We’ll need a statement from you, Mr. Montgomery.”

“Fine. I’ll come down to the station later today.” After shaking Carl’s hand, Quinn stepped to the side, seeing his younger brother coming toward him. “Again, thank you, Becca, for your help. If you need anything, let me know.”

As Quinn walked away, he heard the man say to Becca, “We’ll need your report while it’s still fresh in your mind. This one ended good.”

Quinn paused to watch Becca leave with her team leader and another police officer. Quinn still could picture her big eyes, full of life even in the midst of such turmoil and potential death. Her look reminded him of Maggie. The memory of the last time he’d seen Maggie pierced his heart. He shook the reflection from his mind. He had moved on. He wouldn’t go down that path again.

“I hear you had some action this morning.” Brendan patted him on the back. “And you handled yourself well.”

“I told Becca Hilliard that she never has to worry about me applying for her job.” Quinn walked toward the area where he had set up a makeshift office on site. Still fresh in his mind was the first few minutes up on the roof with David. Fear such as he rarely encountered had washed through him until he had said a prayer to God for guidance. Then, as though the Lord had clasped his shoulder and stood next to him, his fear had dissolved and in its place had been a resolve to see David safely down from the ledge. He had known that everything would be all right. Not long after that Becca Hilliard had arrived as though she had been sent from the Lord.

“You need to give a statement.”

“I know. Just give me a few minutes. I need a strong cup of coffee and something sweet.”

Brendan followed him into the room. “Pour me a cup, too.”

“What brings you by?” Quinn handed his younger brother a mug full of hot, strong coffee, then filled a cup for himself.

“Heard about the jumper and came running. Couldn’t see you going through this without me, especially with the trouble we’ve had lately. At first I thought it was connected to that.”

“Nope. David James just lost it. His supervisor called him on being late for work. That sent the man over the edge. He flew at Collins, hit him a few times, then escaped up to the roof, where he threatened to jump.”

“Is Collins okay?”

“Yeah, just a cut lip and probably a black eye.” Quinn lifted his mug to take a sip and noticed his hand shaking. He placed the mug on his desk before he spilled his coffee. “How does she do it?”

“Who? What?”

“Becca. Negotiating.” Quinn clasped his hands together to still their trembling, recognizing the reaction as delayed shock. When he had thought David would jump, all he could think of was the man’s two little girls without their father. Thank You, God, for delivering David safely down. And thank You for sending Becca to help.

“Ah, now it’s just Becca.”

“Stop right there, little brother. After going through something like what happened on that rooftop together, it seems kinda ridiculous to call the woman Ms. Hilliard.”

Brendan lounged against the file cabinet. “She has her own methods of destressing. We all do.”

Quinn knew his brother was referring to people working in law enforcement. He’d been engaged to a woman who had been on the police force until—again his heart twisted with the remembrance of that day Maggie had died. So much for not going down memory lane.

“You’re the boss. Give yourself the rest of the day off. I think you deserve it.”

“So I can go over what happened on the rooftop until I go screaming down the street? No, thank you. I think I’ll stay and work.” This was one of his ways of dealing with stress. Finally, Quinn thought his hand was steady enough to pick up his mug and take a long drink of his much-needed coffee. “How’s Chloe? Have you two set a date yet?”

Brendan chuckled. “I get the picture. No more talking about you. Chloe and I are negotiating when. Definitely Chloe’s the one.”

“I’m glad, since you two are already engaged.”

“How about you? Seeing anyone?”

“Don’t have the time. The fire set me back some. Having to rebuild the shop and barn as well as do all the projects we’re committed to has taken a lot of my extra time.”

“I thought you finished the shop and barn a couple of weeks ago.”

“Yes, but…” Quinn let his sentence trail off into the silence. He and his brother knew the real reason he hadn’t dated. Except for the few times Brendan had tried to fix him up since Maggie’s death three years ago, he hadn’t gone out with anyone. Instead, he had thrown himself into his work and his carpentry.