The Healer

by Dee Henderson

  Rachel went to take a long hot shower, for the chill had reached into her bones. She took time to dry her hair and brush it out, then went back to her bedroom. After some thought, she reached for the phone beside the bed and made a second call.

  “Cole?” She’d taken a chance that he would be home. She needed the reassurance of hearing his voice.

  “Hi, honey.” He sounded like he had been dozing.

  “You know that verse Kate likes to quote: ‘The Lord is my helper, I will not be afraid; what can man do to me?’”

  “You’re making me think on twenty minutes of sleep.” He was quiet for a moment. “I think it’s in the last chapter of Hebrews.”

  “What can man do to me? One thing he can do is shoot at me. It’s scary.”

  “Bad dreams, huh?”

  “I haven’t gotten that far. I wasn’t ready for yesterday, and I’m a basket case just trying to sleep because I keep thinking about it. My hands are trembling.”

  “You have to let yourself feel the emotion, accept it’s a justified reaction, and then let it go.”

  “I wish you could make this go away,” she whispered.

  “Rae, you’ll never be able to stop the evil people do, any more than Lisa can stop the murders. But what you do does matter. Kids are coping today because you have been there for them.”

  She wiped her eyes. “I can’t do this anymore. It hurts too bad.”

  He didn’t answer her for a long time. She wasn’t sure what she wanted from him. But it mattered, what he said. She was looking hard for a way out of this pain. There had been too many tragedies coming too close together and they were burying her under their weight.

  “Rae, another wise thing my dad taught me was don’t make decisions when you are tired or upset.”

  Tears flowed. She was both. She blew her nose. “It’s good advice.”

  “You want me to come over and bring a video? We can eat popcorn and you can pretend to be interested in my choice of movie.”

  She laughed, appreciating the soft offer more than he knew. “I need to sleep. And so do you.”

  She shifted pillows around.

  “You’re exhausted, honey. What do you tell your kids when they’re struggling to sleep like this?”

  It was hard to remember. “Sometimes the memories start to repeat less once they are written down.”

  “Want to try that? Or better yet, when they start to race on you, call me back and tell me about them. I’ll share it with you, Rae.”

  She was comforted just by the offer. “I’m going to try to sleep now.”

  “I’ll be a phone call away. Always. Call me when you wake up later? Let me get you dinner?”

  “Your optimism is showing.”

  “Yeah. Sleep well, beautiful.”

  “Good night, Cole,” Rachel whispered. She hung up the phone and put her head down on the pillow.

  God, I’m so grateful You put Cole in my life.

  She sighed and closed her eyes, her thoughts on the man she had let inside her heart. She finally slept.

  Cole pulled his arm back, faked a throw, and then tossed the tennis ball toward the garage. Hank raced after it.

  “He has to go crashing through that bush rather than around it,” Rachel remarked.

  “What he lacks in smarts, he makes up for with enthusiasm,” Cole replied, smiling. Rachel had slept through the afternoon and early evening, and he was relieved to see the calmness, even laughter, in her expression. Her phone call hadn’t come until after 8 P.M. It hadn’t been that hard to talk her into coming over for a bite to eat.

  The dog loped back. Cole leaned down and tugged the tennis ball free from Hank’s jaws. “Were you intending to feed Hank your sandwich?”

  Rachel looked down at the paper plate she’d set on the ground. “Sorry.” The ham sandwich had disappeared.

  Cole had seen her eat the cookies but not the sandwich. “I’ll fix you another if you like.”

  Her pager went off. She glanced at it but didn’t reach for the phone. “This one can wait.”

  Hank tried to climb onto her lap.

  “You’re supposed to throw the tennis ball,” Cole pointed out.

  “It’s icky.”

  She tossed it toward the garage, and this time Hank got stuck when he tried to plow through the bush. “You’re going to have to replant that somewhere else to give him a clear path. It’s like leaving a piece of furniture in the middle of a hallway—it’s not fair.”

  “Move the bush and the dog is going to crash full speed into the side of the garage. It’s like his eyesight is myopic. He’s got a lousy sense of distance.”

  Hank came back with the tennis ball. “Poor boy.” Rachel picked twigs and leaves out of his coat.

  “What’s on your plate for tomorrow?” Cole asked, working on how he could best help her in the next couple days.

  “Work the pager and the phone primarily. Join a walk-through at the school. After that, a day spent visiting kids. They are going to try to have the school open in the afternoon for students to collect belongings, so they can have a regular school day on Friday.”

  “Will you be working at the schools the first day?”

  “Probably not in a formal way. There are other counselors who are better at mass debriefing and reassurance. My list for the day will include talking with the students we know are going to need extra help. I’m hoping the missing .38 is recovered by then. I’m terrified of holding school classes again without us having found who has that gun. I’ve got dread in the pit of my stomach over there being another school shooting just as kids come back.”

  “The police will do everything they can to find it, but it’s not the only gun out there.”

  Her pager went off. She glanced at the number. “I need to answer this one.”

  “I’ll fix you another sandwich.”

  “Can you make it to go? I want to stop by and see Marissa on my way home.”

  “Sure. You’ll get through this, Rae.”

  “I wonder sometimes.” She returned the page.

  Thirty-one

  The middle school smelled of fresh paint Thursday afternoon. The hallways were being repainted white with a blue stripe to match the school colors. Rachel walked around the painters, drop cloths, and ladders. She could think of a lot of places she would rather be at the moment. She had a sketch of the school grounds with a hundred stories to go with it—students terrified by what had happened when the fire alarm sounded and then realizing there was someone shooting in the parking lot.

  She hadn’t been focused on the investigation, but it was clear seeing Wilson, Lisa, Marcus, and Quinn that it had been proceeding full force. This walk-through was an attempt to take a final look at the time line of the shooting before the children returned.

  “The answers to what happened start here.” Lisa led the way into the boys locker room. “An unknown number of boys were present. Tim was killed with a .38. Coincident to that someone pulled the alarm.”

  “Cole, which fire alarm was pulled?” Marcus asked.

  “Interesting question. Hold on.” Cole searched his reports. “Number 18, which is…the alarm by the PE teacher’s office.”

  “So someone yanked this alarm after the shooting.”

  “Or before the shooting,” Rachel offered, shoving her hands in her pockets.

  “Or maybe someone pulled the alarm, and a kid with a gun jerked at the sound and pulled the trigger,” Quinn suggested.

  “An ugly possibility.” Lisa walked the hall from the PE teacher’s office to the boys locker room. “Tim is in the locker room with someone who eventually shot him. We know some shoving was going on because Tim has bruises that had just begun to form no more than a few minutes before his death. Someone else came into the locker room, realized what was going on, and pulled the fire alarm trying to break up the fight. Then the gun goes off.”

  “Someone pulled the alarm, someone took the gun. But who was it?” Marcus asked.

  “
Adam?”

  They looked to Rachel. “He’s heartbroken over Tim’s death,” she replied. “He’s not a hider by nature. If he saw something more than just Greg in the hallway, if he saw the boys who hurt Tim, I think he would have told me.”

  “What about Greg taking the .38?”

  “If he did, we would have found it somewhere at the scene.”

  “Maybe someone else was here with Mark.”

  “How about Mark’s best friend, Chuck Holden?” Rachel suggested. “If Mark brought a gun with him to school, Chuck would know about it.”

  “We talked with him,” Marcus replied. “He denied any knowledge of it or of a problem between Mark and Tim.”

  “Do you believe him?”

  “Not entirely. Are we confident we would have found the .38 if it’s still here?”

  “We’ve turned this place upside down,” Lisa replied.

  “Then we need to go back and figure out what kids were doing in that half hour before the shooting. Someone had to have seen the boys come over here from the high school.” Marcus looked at his watch. “It’s about time for the afternoon briefing. The press will know soon that a gun is missing.”

  “If we don’t have a lead on it by morning, we may have to put the word out ourselves. We can’t reopen the schools and not alert the public. Rachel, are there enough counselors to cover both schools tomorrow?” Wilson asked.

  “We’ll be as ready as we can.” Rachel looked with longing back at the hall door. This place was making her claustrophobic. Cole reached for her hand.

  She held on tight.

  Rachel used the trunk of her car as a worktable Thursday afternoon and held down the corners of her map with a flashlight, two decks of cards, and her soda can. She bit into the cheeseburger she’d been handed. “Gage, you forgot the onions again.”

  “But I remembered the mustard this time.” He tossed a couple yellow packets to her. They had gotten into the habit of catching a meal together whenever they were in the same vicinity. “Where are you heading next?”

  “I have no idea. I’ve got nine more house calls to make and rush hour traffic is starting.” Her street map was wearing out. School resumed tomorrow morning, and Rachel was making an effort to talk to the girls she had identified as the natural leaders among the teenagers.

  The teenagers had latched on to the idea of doing something special in memory of the girl who had died in the cafeteria. They wanted to hold the charity rubber duck float that had been canceled due to the flooding, and they had already contacted the chamber of commerce to see if it would be possible. It was a great idea. There were enough rubber ducks that every student at the middle school and the high school could participate.

  She swiped some of Gage’s french fries. “In your article this weekend would you mention the duck memorial?”

  “Sure. Do you have a date arranged?”

  “Saturday, May 5. The girls are putting it together so I should have details later tonight.”

  He pulled out his notebook to jot down the date and information.

  “Have you even read a newspaper this week?”

  “I’m avoiding the press whenever I can.” She glanced over at him and smiled. “No offense.”

  “None taken, LeeAnn.”

  She wrinkled her nose at him for shortening it to just her middle name. “I need you at the school tomorrow morning when they reopen the doors. Can you come?”

  “What do you need?”

  “A reporter to work with the five teenagers who put out the school newspaper to help them create an issue that can be kept as a memorial of the event.” She knew the student body needed closure and a way to express themselves as a group. The school paper was the most important collective voice they had. It needed the touch of someone who understood how to pull together the event and the memories and to also point the way forward. Gage was the right man to help those kids.

  “Me, going back to high school?”

  She smiled at him. “Please?”

  He finished the fries. “You would have to say that magic word. I’ll be there. Did you remember to get gas in your car?”

  “You are never going to let me forget last month are you?”

  He smiled back.

  “I’m set.” She folded up her map. “Thanks for dinner. I’ve got to get going.”

  “Drive carefully, Rae.”

  She gave him a hug.

  The hotel suite Jennifer called home was quiet. Cole relaxed in a chair and watched her sleep on the couch. She rested on her side, hands tucked under her cheek. Cole hurt just watching her. She’d saved lives, but at what cost to her own health? Did those students know the gift she had given them, the full price that had been paid?

  Tom rejoined him and handed him one of the glasses he carried.

  “She’s running a fever. You should admit her to the hospital, Tom.”

  “It’s 100.6 and responding to medication. She’s stubborn. And there are too many germs for her to catch if I did admit her.” Tom shifted the ice pack against her back and checked the time. “I can give her more pain meds in twenty minutes. That will help.”

  Jennifer slept through pain that had tears sliding down her cheeks. It was a hard thing to face. If only the O’Malley’s hadn’t been caught right in the middle of the shooting… The stress of that moment had taken so much from her.

  “She got a chance to be a doctor again in a critical role, Cole. She considers this price minor to that joy.”

  “Do you?”

  Tom looked at the ice in his glass but didn’t answer.

  Cole finished his drink. “Rachel is coming by as soon as she can.”

  “There’s no imminent crisis to this flare-up,” Tom said. “If there was I’d call Rae. Jennifer understands well the time pressure her sister’s under. She’s frankly more worried about Rae than she is about her own situation.”

  Cole shared that concern. “Rae copes by keeping busy.”

  Jennifer stirred. Tom rose and helped her. He changed the ice and she took the medication he offered gratefully.

  “Cole,” her voice was soft, almost inaudible, “I’m glad you came.” Her smile was still the breathtaking one he remembered.

  “I’m glad you called.”

  She lifted her head and Tom shifted the pillow to support her head. “Better, thanks.” She relaxed into the new position, her breaths slow and even as she absorbed the pain. “The bedroom gets so boring,” she offered. “It’s easier to rest here.”

  “You’re sleeping; that’s good.”

  She smiled. “Dozing. You worry about me as much as Tom does.” Her eyes closed and she fought to reopen them. “I’m drifting on the meds. Sorry.”

  “Don’t be.” Cole waited as she rallied. “How can I help you, Jen?” She’d called him for a reason. He would help and get out of here. She needed that sleep she was fighting.

  “I didn’t need anything. I just wanted your company.”

  He blinked and then chuckled. “Did you?”

  “I thought we might talk about Rae.”

  Cole relaxed in his chair, smiling back at her. “One of my favorite subjects.”

  “I just need a distraction from the pain,” Jennifer whispered. “Tom’s running out of stories.”

  “I’d be glad to help,” Cole replied, following her rationale and touched that she’d called him instead of one of the other O’Malleys. “Why don’t you start at the beginning about Rae? When did you two meet?”

  “I really like you.” Jen tucked her hands under her chin. “At Trevor House. She headed the welcoming committee.”

  Thursday evening, Rachel leaned back against the lawn chair that now had her name taped to the back webbing and worked on updating her composition notebook by penlight while she waited for Cole to return from work. He had been out on a fire run when she called the station. She hoped it wasn’t a severe fire. The guys had already had a tough few days, and a deadly fire would layer hurt on hurt.

  Faced w
ith the choice of returning home or stopping by to see Cole, there hadn’t been much need for thought. She was attached to his company, wanted to be with him.

  The breeze ruffled the pages and Hank got up to plop two big feet on her knees. “Your breath is bad,” Rachel offered as she reached out and scratched under his chin. She picked up the tennis ball and tossed it, and he took off after it.

  “You look comfortable.”

  She leaned her head back as Cole joined her. She hadn’t heard his car, but since the driveway had a stack of lumber on it at the moment, he’d parked on the street. “I wanted to watch the full moon.”

  “It’s a beautiful night.” He bent down and softly kissed her. She slipped her hand around the back of his neck and leaned against him, absorbing the fact the man was a rock in the middle of a chaotic day.

  “You need a shower.”

  He shook his head and ash fell on her notebook. “Yep, I guess I do. We had a hot fire in a restaurant kitchen.”

  “Arson?”

  “An accident. It took about ten minutes of searching to confirm it had started on the stovetop where a gas feeder line had a pinhole break. Come on in. I’ll get cleaned up.”

  “Why don’t you clean up and come back out. It’s nice to just sit and enjoy the calm night.”

  His thumb soothed her shoulder blade. “Ten minutes,” he promised and headed into the house.

  She returned to the work in her notebook updating observations and contacts made throughout the day. She would have to go to volume two tomorrow, for this notebook was almost full.

  Her pager went off. It was from the National Crisis Response Team. She returned the call. The first vandalism of the crisis had been a threat against the high school principal spray-painted on the back of the gym. It was inevitable that some of the anger against what had happened would manifest itself in vandalism and threats. The big problem would be the inevitable bomb threats. The counselors already had the school staff prepared.

  Cole slid his arm across her shoulders as she spoke with Nora, and Rachel lifted her hand to grip his. It had been a twenty-hour day, but she wouldn’t have missed coming here for anything.