I Shall Not Want

Home > Fantasy > I Shall Not Want > Page 24
I Shall Not Want Page 24

by Debbie Viguié


  “Do you want me to come to the hospital?” she asked.

  “No! I don’t plan on being there more than ten minutes. Besides, with our luck the nurse who thinks we’re married will be on duty.”

  Cindy smirked at the memory of how he had lied to be admitted to see her when she had been attacked by a serial killer. The thought of a little payback appealed to her. “That’s precisely why I should come. Otherwise she might be concerned that our marriage is in trouble.”

  “I’m glad one of us can laugh,” he said.

  The driver closed the door with an apologetic glance at her, then climbed into the front and drove away. She felt oddly reassured that he drove up the street at a reasonable pace without the use of lights or siren. That had to mean Jeremiah was okay.

  She turned to find Mark watching her. She gave him a fleeting smile before asking “Did you find anything?”

  He shook his head. “I’ll have the coroner examine him, though, nail down actual cause of death.”

  “Thank you.”

  He shrugged. “Anything you can tell me about him?”

  “His name is Dr. Mel Tanner. He used to go here, but now he goes to another church downtown. He’s a retired physician. He’s still active in the community, though.”

  “Thanks, I’ll let you know if I need anything else. So you’re not heading to the hospital?”

  She shook her head.

  He made a tsking sound. “Sounds like divorce court time to me.”

  She shook her head and rolled her eyes before turning to head back into the church.

  As Cindy walked into the office and took her seat, Geanie hopped up out of her chair and walked over. “What happened?” she asked.

  Cindy filled her in and watched in satisfaction as the other girl registered the same shock she herself was feeling.

  “That’s terrible!”

  “I know. At least Jeremiah wasn’t hurt, but poor Dr. Tanner.”

  “Going in a car crash, that’s one of my nightmares,” Geanie said with a shiver.

  “Jeremiah told the officers that he thought Dr. Tanner was already dead,” Cindy said, more to herself than Geanie.

  “That’s just weird.”

  “I know, but I guess stuff like that happens. He could have had a heart attack or something.”

  The front door opened, and the youth pastor walked in. “Wow, did you guys see that accident out front?” Dave asked.

  “Cindy did,” Geanie answered.

  “What a nightmare.”

  “Dr. Tanner is dead,” Cindy said.

  Dave turned pale and sat down in one of the chairs reserved for visitors. “Are you kidding?”

  “No, why would I kid about something like that?”

  He buried his face in his hands, and his shoulders heaved. Geanie gave her a puzzled look as the implication hit Cindy. “He drove the bus to camp every year,” she realized.

  “Summer camps and winter camps. He was a wonderful man,” Dave said. “So good with the kids, so patient. I never knew how he could pay attention to the road with all the noise and chaos around him.”

  “He was a very nice man,” Cindy said, moving forward and awkwardly patting him on the shoulder.

  “I’m going to call Joseph and let him know,” Geanie said. “I think the two of them sat on a couple of boards together.”

  “Why don’t you go tell him in person?” Cindy suggested. Joseph Coulter was the church’s most affluent member. He and Geanie had been dating since Thanksgiving, and she was sure he’d rather hear the news from his girlfriend than from someone else.

  “Thanks,” Geanie said, grabbing her purse and heading for the door.

  “We’ve almost got a full slate of kids for next weekend,” Cindy said after the door had closed. “I’ll work on finding you another driver.”

  “Thanks,” Dave said, dragging himself to his feet. “A couple other churches are having retreats at the same time. I’ll call around and see if any of them have room on their buses. How are we doing on the sandwiches and cookies?”

  “Lunch bags for the drive up will have corned beef sandwiches courtesy of O’Connell’s Pub and shamrock cookies courtesy of Safeway.”

  “You’re a genius.”

  “Hey, the first day of camp is on St. Patrick’s Day. It was a no-brainer.”

  He smiled slightly. “You’ve been hanging around the kids too long. You’re starting to sound like them.”

  “There are a lot worse things to sound like,” she said.

  “Amen.”

  Want to learn more about author Debbie Viguié

  and check out other great fiction

  from Abingdon Press?

  Sign up for our fiction newsletter at

  www.AbingdonPress.com

  to read interviews with your favorite authors, find tips

  for starting a reading group, and stay posted on what

  new titles are on the horizon. It’s a place to connect

  with other fiction readers or post a

  comment about this book.

  Be sure to visit Debbie Viguié online.

  www.debbieviguie.com

 

 

 


‹ Prev