by Ali Franklin
When they reached Nicki’s front porch, Jack turned an laid a hand on her arm. “How are you?”
“I’m good. The doctors gave me a clean bill of health, other than this bone that has to heal.” She looked down at her arm.
“I’m glad to hear it.” Jack paused. “There’s something I want to talk to you about.”
“Is something wrong?”
“No, nothing like that. In fact, I want to ask you something. You don’t have to answer me right now, but promise you’ll consider it.”
Nicki looked confused. “What is it, Jack?”
“I want you to consider coming to work with me at the Sheriff’s department. Being my partner.” He smiled at her obvious speechlessness. “Just think about it.”
She swallowed. “I will.”
Chapter 27
Saturday morning dawned bright and crisp. Ryan woke and stretched stiffly. She showered and took stock of the physical sensations throughout her body. The pain from the accident was shifting. The hip was going to ache for a while, but her ankle was beginning to feel better. She kept it propped up most of the time. The cuts and bruises on her hands, neck, and face were healing well.
After her shower, she put medication on the cuts and re-covered them with bandages, then re-wrapped her ankle. She’d look a little banged up in any pictures from the FLH, but at least she’d be there. And the events would happen. And, best of all, they’d raise money for the nonprofits.
Nicki beeped from the driveway a few minutes later and Ryan joined her in the Jeep. They drove to St. Andrew’s with a minimum of conversation. That was fine with Ryan, who was saving her energy. She was so exhausted it would take a miracle to make it through the weekend without collapsing. She glanced at her friend. Nicki seemed deep in thought.
At St. Andrew’s, Father Paul was managing the most well-run pancake breakfast Ryan had ever seen. He had a veritable army of volunteers cooking, serving, and cleaning. She and Nicki stood in line for their breakfast. When they reached the counter, they greeted the priest.
“Father Paul, everything looks wonderful,” said Ryan. “It’s absolutely packed in here.”
He smiled. “We even have people eating outside. I’m glad we got extra food and drinks—I had a feeling we’d have a terrific turnout.” He handed them their pancakes and they found seats at one of the long tables lining the big room.
Five minutes later, the women were surrounded by well-wishers and reporters who wanted them to recount their harrowing tale. Ryan and Nicki asked to be left alone, but the people kept coming, patting them on the back and asking the women to pose with them for selfies.
Ryan looked at Nicki. “Can we get out of here?” Nicki nodded and they rose and picked up their plates of half-eaten pancakes.
“Let’s try the back,” suggested Nicki. They walked out of the room and found themselves in a hallway lined with doors. Ryan chose one and peeked inside.
“Sunday School room,” she said. “No one’s here.”
They went in and sat on the tables, the pint-sized chairs being to small for comfort. Nicki sighed.
“That was nuts,” said the chief. “Everybody’s acting like we cured cancer or something.”
Ryan laughed. “I’ve never had people ask me for my autograph before.”
“Maybe we should call Mike Garza and offer him an exclusive interview on the air,” said Nicki. “Then we could tell everyone our story and be done with it.”
“That’s a good idea.”
The women ate their breakfast with little conversation. Ryan kept looking at Nicki. The chief’s green eyes were that darker shade today. She stared into the distance, her brow furrowed.
“Nick, is something wrong?”
Nicki took a deep breath. “I want to run something by you. Last night, Jack asked me to go work with him.”
“I don’t understand.”
“He wants me to be his partner.”
Ryan’s eyes widened. “He wants you to go back to being a detective?” She stood and walked around the little room, dodging miniature chairs and toys. She returned to the table where Nicki sat. “What did you tell him?”
Ryan’s phone buzzed. She huffed in frustration and looked at it, then tapped a button. “Hi, Father Paul. What is it?” She nodded, then ended the call.
“Father Paul needs to talk to me,” she said. “Can we finish this conversation later?”
“Of course. Do you want me to come with you?”
“When do you have to be at the country club?”
“The first matches begin in half an hour,” said Nicki. “But they can start without me. The club staff has the court assignments.”
They walked toward the kitchen and Ryan nodded, only half-listening to her friend. She was too busy trying to figure out how to convince Nicki the campus needed her more than Jack did. Ryan didn’t want to tell Nicki she would hate not seeing her at work each day, or that she would spend every hour worrying about Nicki’s safety.
As they neared a corner in the hallway, Nicki stopped, holding up her good arm. “I hear something,” she said.
“What is it?”
“I think it’s…”
“Oh, no.” Ryan heard it, too. “Let’s go back.”
The women turned and double-timed it back the other way. They traveled the length of the hall, then turned another corner and another, until they reached the back door of the kitchen.
“Whew,” said Ryan. “That was close.”
They walked into the kitchen and stopped short. Over the counter, at the back of the big room where the patrons were eating their pancakes, were the very people Ryan and Nicki had been trying to avoid: the press.
Ryan and Nicki ducked down.
“Psst, Father Paul,” hissed Ryan. “What do you need?”
“What in the world are you doing down there?” asked the priest with a grin.
“Hiding from the reporters,” said Nicki.
“Good luck with that,” he said. “You might be better off just giving them your story. Otherwise, they may keep following you until you do.”
The women knew he was right. Ryan again promised to call Mike Garza.
“There’s a file room behind here.” Father Paul pointed. “They won’t be able to see you in there.”
Ryan stayed behind Father Paul as he moved into the narrow room, Nicki squat-walked out of the kitchen. The room was more like a hallway with doors at both ends. One wall was filled with row after row of file cabinets. The three friends gathered and Ryan spoke again.
“What’s up, Father?”
“I have such great news, and I couldn’t wait to share it with you,” he said.
Just then, they all heard someone yell for Father Paul.
“Just a second,” he said. “I’ll take care of that and be right back.”
Ryan threw up her hands in frustration. “What do you think he wants?”
“He said he has good news.”
Ryan sighed. “I feel like I’m a prisoner. In this church, in this room, waiting for Father Paul to help me get out.”
“Hey,” said Nicki. She stepped in front of her friend and rubbed her good hand hand up and down Ryan’s right arm. “You planned to spend this morning here at the church. And we should be glad there’s so much press. They’re covering the FLH, too.”
“You’re right. I guess I’m just tired. And now you’ve got this thing with Jack…”
Nicki took Ryan’s hand. “I’m still weighing my options. But I want to know what you think.”
Ryan studied her friend. Those green eyes pierced hers. “You really want to know what I think?”
“Yes. I do.”
The door at one end of the hallway burst open and a young man stepped into the room. He held one end of a collapsible table and was looking the other way as he walked toward them. The teenager carrying the other end of the table hollered in time to alert his friend that there was something in his path. The first young man turned his head just in time
to miss Nicki, who had scooched up against Ryan to get out of his way.
The two teens walked by. Two more walked by with another table. Then another pair brought a third table. Nicki and Ryan smiled and watched the men as they meandered through the room.
Some time later, Ryan realized Nicki was still pressed against her. She stayed right where she was, not wanting her friend to move. She could feel Nicki’s chest rise and fall with her breathing. She raised her eyes to see Nicki staring at her.
Ryan felt something buzz against her leg. It was Nicki’s phone. The chief retrieved her phone and answered it without stepping back. She stared at Ryan as the person on the other end of the phone talked. She said, “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”
Nicki put the phone back in her pocket. She touched Ryan’s cheek lightly. Then she backed up and walked out of the room.
Chapter 28
Ryan didn’t see Nicki for the rest of the day Saturday, but she didn’t have time to think about her. The FLH chairwoman had an on-camera interview with Mike Garza about the events with Gus and Chase. She managed to spend some of that camera time talking about the remaining FLH events. Then she attended the dinner-dance.
The Saturday night event was beautiful, even with the shadow of Emma’s death hanging over it. The kitchen staff outfitted the ballroom with the decorations Emma had purchased in advance. It looked stunning. Emma’s menu received wonderful reviews from everyone in attendance. The ballroom hummed with activity all night, and each of the silent auction items had lively bidding right up to the last moment.
The only thing Ryan hadn’t liked about the dinner-dance was Nicki’s absence. The chief had taken a shift on campus to allow one of her patrol officers to attend the event with his wife. It was his Valentine’s Day gift, and the couple had been married less than a year. Nicki figured it was an easy way to show she cared about her staff’s lives outside of campus.
Sunday morning kicked off with another pancake breakfast—much to the surprise of some St. Andrew’s parishioners who hadn’t been paying attention to the local news all week. Father Paul appreciated that so many people came back a second time.
Ryan didn’t go to St. Andrew’s that morning, as she was overseeing the preparations for the chili cookoff. The rental company from Dallas had decided not to set up the tents and chairs until that morning, which left them little time to complete the task. Ryan paced the length and width of the rec fields at a snail’s pace while she watched them work. She finally sat down to give her ankle a rest. She told herself it was possible they’d get it done in time, and micromanaging them wouldn’t help.
Ryan took a deep breath and re-focused on the things she could control. Some members of the volunteer team were filling balloons with helium and hanging banners. Others were greeting participants who’d come early to secure good spots on the field or a “good” table on which to place their chili for the contest.
Some of the participants and volunteers had brought corn-hole setups, and they chatted about placement of the wooden boxes on one side of the field. Kids played tag holding balloons on strings, and the DJ tested his equipment from his location beside the Rec Center.
Ryan was grateful that Jack had kept the rat-poison incident out of the public record. If everyone in the county knew exactly how Veronica had been poisoned, the FLH’s signature event would have been wiped out—maybe forever. But they had kept it under wraps, and it looked like the last event of this year’s FLH was going to be a success.
The cookoff was in full swing by the time the Alumni Bell rang twelve. Forty amateur and professional chefs had entered their concoctions in the cookoff, and voting for the “Crowd Favorite” award was brisk. There were hundreds of people at the event, not counting the volunteers.
Ryan visited the judges’ tent for the umpteenth time. “How are you all doing in here?” she asked. The three judges looked up from their task. The student, Peter Nwamadi, grimaced.
“You didn’t tell us we’d have to sample this many recipes,” he said. “I’m going to have heartburn for days.”
One of the other judges handed him a bottle of antacid tablets and slapped him on the back. “It’s all for a good cause, kid.”
Danielle and Joanna Nunez came into the tent. They’d returned in time to attend the dinner-dance the previous night, glad the danger was over.
“Hi, Ryan. We thought we might find you in here.”
“Are you enjoying the cookoff?”
“We are, aren’t we, Joanna?”
“Yes. I had a Dr. Pepper and saw some of my friends from school.”
“Cool,” said Ryan. She turned to Danielle. “Were you able to contact all of the winners from the silent auction?”
“Yes. In fact, that’s why I came to talk to you. Apparently, Father Paul’s speech last night made an impression on some of our donors. A few have added more money to their donations.”
“That’s wonderful,” said Ryan. “Father Paul will be so excited.”
“Be so excited about what?” came a voice from behind her. It was the priest.
Danielle told him the good news.
“That’s terrific,” he said. “And when we add that to the money we raised from this morning’s extra pancake breakfast, we’re more than halfway there!” His eyes were shining with excitement.
“I’m sure we can get the rest through some fundraisers on campus,” said Ryan.
“Oh, I don’t know about that.”
Everyone whirled around to see who had just spoken. It was Nicki, and she had a huge grin on her face. She was holding a check out to Father Paul.
“Some of the tennis players took up a collection at the club this morning. In addition to this money, the club has agreed to set aside two hours a week for any kids at the orphanage who want to learn how to play. They’re even throwing in a pro to teach them.”
“Wha…” Father Paul, who was already on the verge of tears, reeled toward a table and braced himself. He looked at the check and his eyes widened.
“This is it,” he said. “This is the other half.” He looked up at the others, who gathered in around him. They ended up in a group hug.
“Hello, friends and neighbors! My name is Oscar Martinez, and I’d like to welcome you to Haverwood College.”
The sound from the P.A. system brought the committee back to the present.
“If Ryan McCabe is anywhere in the crowd, I’d like to ask her to join me on the stage,” said Oscar.
“C’mon, guys, this is our chance to thank everyone,” she said, walking toward the stage.
“Go ahead, Ryan,” said Nicki. “We’ll catch up.”
Ryan walked through the crowd. People patted her on the back as she went. Some held up their chili bowls in a toast.
She climbed the steps at the side of the stage and joined Oscar, who gave her a hug. “Ladies and gentlemen, let’s give a round of applause to the chairperson of this year’s For the Love of Haverwood planning committee, Dr. Ryan McCabe!”
The cheered as Ryan stepped to the microphone.
“Good afternoon, everyone. Thank you so much for being a part of this year’s chili cookoff—and for being a part of the FLH. As you know, the FLH raises money each year for organizations that work to strengthen our community. And this year is no different. This weekend has raised funds that will help these nonprofits do even more good work in the days ahead.”
She stopped and took a deep breath before speaking again. “You all know that I wasn’t the original committee chair. And that two of our colleagues who worked on this project are no longer with us. I’d like us to share a moment of silence to remember Veronica Arrington and Emma Sullivan.”
The crowd quieted and most of the adults bowed their heads. After a few moments, Ryan spoke again. “Thank you. And now I’d like to introduce the rest of this year’s FLH committee. Please come up here, committee members.”
Father Paul, Danielle, and Nicki came on stage. Nicki turned around and called to Joanna,
who ran up the steps and grabbed her mom’s hand.
Ryan introduced the committee members and the crowd applauded. Before she finished, Father Paul asked to say a few words.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I want to thank you for the extra support you’ve given to this year’s event. Many of you know that I work with special organization, the Haverwood County Orphanage. Some of the kids from the HCO are here today. Kids, why don’t you come up toward the stage right here? I have something to tell you.” He pointed to the grass right in front of the stage. About fifteen kids moved through the crowd.
When they were assembled, Father Paul continued. “We told everyone in Haverwood about how special you kids are, and how you wished you had a gym you could use when you can’t go outside.” The kids were suddenly paying more attention.
“We told them we’d never been able to raise the money for a gym before, and they decided to open their hearts and wallets. I want to make it official, and I want you kids to be the first to know.” He paused. “We raised enough money this year to build a full-sized, indoor gym with bleachers.”
The kids said nothing for a minute. Then they turned to each other, their eyes wide. Some cried. Others jumped for joy. Then the whole crowd whooped and broke into applause.
Father Paul let the shouts fade away. Then he said, “I don’t know how to thank you all,” he waved his arm to encompass the whole crowd. “You’ve reminded these kids that there are plenty of people in Haverwood who want them to have a great childhood. Thank you for your generosity.” He looked like he wanted to say more, but he turned and dabbed at his eyes with a handkerchief.
Oscar stepped back to the mic and reminded the crowd that they were there to eat chili. He reminded them to vote for their favorites and promised that the judges would have the final results for the prizes—here he turned to Ryan, who looked at her watch—in thirty minutes.
When he was finished, he turned back to the committed. “You guys did a fantastic job this year.” He shook hands with each member. Then he turned to Ryan. “I knew I could count on you.”