A Test of Faith

by Carol Cox

  “I agree, but are you sure you’re up to it?”

  At her nod, he dropped a kiss on her forehead, then strode over to help Sam and Jack carry a broken tabletop to a pile where fragments of other dining furniture had already been laid to rest.

  Kate cast one more look at the mystery vehicle, then glanced around the crowded diner. J. B. Packer, Loretta’s part-time cook, stood talking to Lawton Briddle, the mayor of Copper Mill. Kate walked over to them.

  “How can I help?”

  J.B. smiled at her and pointed to a pair of brooms leaning against the wall. “Grab one of those and start sweeping. We need to move all this trash and debris out of the way so Loretta can get an idea of how bad the actual damage is.”

  J.B. had been arrested for setting fire to Faith Briar Church when Paul and Kate first arrived in Copper Mill, and although he had been cleared of all charges, he was still regarded with some suspicion in town. Kate was glad to see him there helping with the cleanup.

  The mayor passed the palm of his hand over the few remaining strands of hair on top of his head. “I just can’t believe it. Who would do something like this?”

  Too tired to carry on a conversation, Kate pondered the question as she maneuvered the broom, pushing broken glass and fragments of wood toward a growing heap at one side of the dining area.

  From the talk that swirled around her, she knew the same question was foremost in everyone else’s minds as well. Snippets of conversation caught her attention as she worked.

  “What kind of person drives into a building and then just up and walks away?”

  Kate turned to see who was talking but didn’t recognize the wiry man.

  “Bunch of joyriders, most likely,” answered a heavy-set blonde woman Kate recognized as Elma Swanson. “No responsibility, these kids today. They think nothing of making a mess and leaving it for someone else to clean up.”

  “You’re probably right. Most people would have called it in as soon as the accident happened,” J. B. Packer volunteered.

  “If it was an accident.”

  The comment came from Pete Barkley, a man Kate had seen around town from time to time but didn’t know well. She pricked up her ears and edged closer to the center of the discussion as she swept.

  “What do you mean if?” demanded Elma.

  Pete leaned on his broom handle and gestured toward the smashed car. “Think about it. Can you really see anyone crashing into the diner like that and then just walking away?” He wagged his head back and forth. “No, sir. Looks to me like it was deliberate.”

  “That’s the craziest idea I ever heard.” Elma planted her hands on her broad hips and narrowed her eyes at him. “You mean to tell me you think somebody did this on purpose?”

  Kate paused, watching Pete glance around as if realizing the size of his audience for the first time. His chest puffed out slightly when he spoke.

  “Wouldn’t surprise me a bit. All it would take is someone parking that Mustang across the street on the Town Green and aiming it right at the front door. Then step out of the car, put it in gear, and all you’d have to do is just stand back and let it happen. Boom!”—he smacked his hands together—“There you go.”

  Several people in the crowd nodded their heads slowly as the idea began to take hold.

  Elma just rolled her eyes. “I still say it’s crazy. That would mean someone had it in for Loretta or LuAnne, or both. Who on earth would want to do such a thing?”

  Who, indeed? Kate wondered as she resumed sweeping. She glanced across the diner at the booth where Loretta Sweet appeared to be rallying. LuAnne sat beside her, patting Loretta’s hand. Who could possibly want to harm either one of them?

  “Aren’t you that preacher’s wife?” A voice drew Kate out of her thoughts and back to the moment.

  Elma Swanson stood beside her, arms crossed. Kate tried to summon up a smile. “That’s right. I’m Kate Hanlon.”

  “Is it true your purse was found in that car?”

  “Just the wallet,” Kate replied wearily.

  “Your wallet was in that Mustang?” The woman’s strident tone drew the attention of the workers nearby.

  Kate felt her cheeks grow warm. “That’s right.”

  Elma narrowed her eyes. “Seems like the front seat of a wrecked car is a funny place for a wallet to show up all by itself.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, Kate saw Paul approaching with Loretta right behind him, as if drawn by the tension that sizzled through the little group gathered around Kate. He put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. “Time to go home.”

  Kate shook her head. “We can’t leave when there’s still so much to do.”

  “Yes, you can.” Loretta’s tone brooked no argument. “I’m sending everyone home.” She stepped up onto the seat of a nearby booth and raised her voice to address the crowd.

  “Listen, everybody. I want to thank you all for coming out to help. I’ve asked Pastor Paul to say a few words.” She gestured to Paul, who smiled at the weary faces turned his way.

  “Seeing all of you down here tonight is evidence of the fine community spirit that is the heart of Copper Mill, and I know Loretta appreciates your support. While the destruction looks pretty overwhelming at the moment, I’m sure we’re all grateful no one was injured. It’s not easy to understand why things like this happen, but we can make it through these times of testing with God’s help.”

  “Thank you, Pastor.” Loretta commanded the crowd’s attention again. “The tow truck just showed up, and some of the men are ready to board up the front as soon as that car is out of here. I’ll come back later and see what needs to be done once I can think straight. Until then, I’m going home to try to get some sleep. You all ought to do the same.”

  Paul leaned forward, his lips next to Kate’s ear. “Come on, hon. You’ve had quite a bit of stress on precious little sleep. You’ll feel better once you get some rest.”

  Too tired to protest, Kate let him lead her toward his pickup. When they reached the sidewalk, she stopped long enough to cast one last look back at the surreal scene.

  How could this have happened? And how did she wind up becoming part of it?

  Not a single answer came to mind. Kate turned again and followed Paul. She could try to work it out in the morning. All she wanted at that moment was to wipe the sight from her mind and sink back into the comfort of their bed, with Paul beside her.

  Chapter Three

  How long will it take to receive my new card?” Kate sighed and jotted a date on the notepad in front of her. “All right. Thank you very much.”

  She hung up the phone and tapped the end of her pencil on the oak dining table. So much for doing any online shopping in the next few days. It was a good thing she already had plenty of stained-glass supplies on hand. She figured there should be enough to last at least until her new credit cards arrived.

  “Rough day?”

  Kate jumped at the sound of Paul’s voice behind her. He moved closer and started massaging her shoulders with smooth, even strokes.

  “I never realized how wearing it could be to cancel a few credit cards. I think I spent half my time on hold and the other half answering calls from church members who wanted to know all the details about the crash.”

  “What did you tell them?” Paul dug his thumbs into the back of her neck.

  Kate closed her eyes and sighed. “What is there to tell? All I know is that my wallet wound up on the front seat of the car that crashed into Loretta’s diner, and I have no idea how it got there.”

  She tipped her head back and grinned up at Paul. “I’m afraid I’ve let the small-town rumor mill down. I haven’t been much help at all.”

  A chuckle rumbled deep in Paul’s chest. “They’ll get over it. Did you have any trouble with the credit-card companies?”

  “No, everyone was very pleasant once I managed to get past the automated menu and talk to a real live person. It’s just that it’s going to take a week or more to
get the replacements.”

  She rolled her head gently from side to side, enjoying the way her neck muscles were loosening up under Paul’s ministrations.

  “The frustrating thing is, I don’t even know whether all this is necessary. The cards may still be in my wallet after all.”

  Paul gave her neck a final rub, then bent over and kissed her on the temple. “Better safe than sorry. Sheriff Roberts was right; it wouldn’t take much for someone to write down all the numbers and be able to use them online or over the phone. Has there been any activity on them?”

  “Nothing so far.” Kate stood and wrapped her arms around Paul’s waist. “Maybe canceling them was just an exercise in futility.”

  “It’s still a good thing you called right away. That’ll take care of things in case anyone does decide to try to use them.”

  She laced her fingers behind his neck and leaned into the warmth of his embrace, marveling as she always did at the love she still felt for this man after nearly three decades of marriage. Throughout the years, Paul’s ability to make her feel cherished and appreciated had never dimmed.

  “Did you stop by for a late lunch? What can I make for you?”

  “No, I already ate at JD’s Smokeshack. I just stopped by to grab a book I’m going to loan Eli Weston.”

  Kate stepped back and gave him a mock glare. “Barbecued ribs, right?”

  Paul gave her a look of complete innocence. “Excuse me?”

  “You’ve already eaten ribs twice in the last week. You’re way over your quota, mister.”

  Paul threw back his head and laughed. “I won’t stray far with you around to keep me in line. Why don’t you make something extra healthy tonight to counteract all that nasty cholesterol?”

  “It doesn’t work that way,” she called after him as he headed outside to his truck.

  Turning back to the kitchen table, Kate checked off the last of the credit-card companies, relieved to have that chore out of the way. She looked at the rest of her to-do list and wrinkled her nose.

  Taking care of those cards had put her way behind schedule, but maybe she could still manage to get a few things done and redeem at least part of the day. She scanned the list to see what would fit into the time available before she needed to fix dinner.

  Sun catchers. Kate smiled. Yes, that was it. She would finish the set of butterfly-themed sun catchers she planned to put on consignment at Smith Street Gifts.

  Heartened by the idea of doing something productive, she headed for her studio, once their spare bedroom but now her own private creative refuge.

  The phone rang when she was just two steps away from the studio door.

  Kate glared at the offending instrument. What now? One of the companies she contacted, calling to let her know someone tried to use her card? Or another request for inside information on the crash? Neither possibility sounded appealing.

  She wavered, tempted to ignore it, but curiosity drew her back to the kitchen. She could at least check Caller ID.

  When she saw the sheriff’s office number on the display, she dove for the receiver and snatched it up.

  “I just wanted to let you know we’re finished with your wallet, Missus Hanlon,” Deputy Spencer said. “You can come down to the office and pick it up anytime.”

  “Thanks so much, Skip.” Relief flooded Kate’s voice. “I’ll be right there.”

  She started to lower the receiver, then pulled it back to her ear. “By the way, Paul isn’t here, and my driver’s license is in my wallet. You’re not going to cite me for driving without it once I get there, are you?”

  The deputy grunted. “That’s the least of our worries at the moment. Just drive safe.”

  Kate grabbed her purse and headed straight to the sheriff’s office downtown. The closest parking space she could find was nearly a block away from Town Hall, around the corner on Hamilton Road.

  Kate walked up the concrete steps to the brick building that housed the town hall and sheriff’s office and pushed through the double glass doors. Turning right, she crossed the creaking wooden floor.

  When she opened the door that led into the area used by the sheriff and his deputies, she saw Sheriff Alan Roberts sitting behind a cluttered desk. Though the sheriff’s main office was in Pine Ridge, he often worked out of the Copper Mill office. At the front desk, Skip Spencer bent over a stack of paperwork.

  Sheriff Roberts scooted his chair back and escorted Kate to a chair in front of his desk before resuming his seat.

  “Thank you for finishing up with my wallet so quickly. I can’t believe how lost I felt without it.”

  Kate watched him slide open his desk drawer and pull out her wallet. Clasping her hands in her lap to restrain herself from yanking it out of his grip, she waited for him to pass it to her.

  Instead, he set the wallet in front of him and drummed the fingers of his left hand on its calfskin surface. With his right hand, he pulled a legal pad toward him and picked up a pen.

  He glanced up at Kate and shrugged. “I’m going to have to ask you a couple of questions while you’re here.”

  Kate shifted in the chair and tried to curb her impatience.

  “When did you realize your wallet was missing?”

  “When LuAnne called me from the diner.”

  “When was that?”

  “One fifteen this morning,” Kate said without hesitation. “I checked the clock when I answered the phone.”

  He scribbled a few quick notes. “Do you have any idea how you lost it?”

  Kate let out a huff of air. “None whatsoever. Paul even wondered if it could have been stolen, but that doesn’t seem likely. We don’t have much of that kind of thing here in Copper Mill. On the other hand, I can’t imagine when I could have lost it.” She smiled at him pleasantly. “I guess that puts us back at square one, doesn’t it?”

  Sheriff Roberts nodded slowly. “How much money did you have in it?”

  Kate thought a minute, then shrugged. “About twenty-five dollars, I think. I can’t be sure.” Her eyes widened. “Is it still there?”

  The sheriff handed her the wallet at last. Kate flipped it open and found the bill compartment empty. She stared at him, stricken. “Then someone did steal it?”

  He spread his hands wide. “Not necessarily. Someone could have found it and decided they needed the money more than you.”

  Kate clutched the wallet in both hands. “Well, at least I have my wallet and my identification back. I guess twenty-five dollars is a small price to pay for that. Thanks again for finishing with it so quickly.” She tucked the wallet inside her purse and started to rise.

  Roberts waved her back to her seat. “Just a minute, Kate. I have a few other things I need to go over with you first. Have you ever seen that Mustang before?”

  “Never.” Kate shook her head for emphasis. “You mean you still don’t know who it belongs to?”

  The sheriff stared at his legal pad for a long moment, then fixed his large brown eyes squarely on Kate. “Where were you last night from, say, ten o’clock up until you got the call from LuAnne?”

  All the air seemed to rush out of Kate’s lungs. “Are you serious?”

  An apologetic light shone in the sheriff’s eyes, but he let the question hang in the air without answering.

  Kate drew herself up and met his gaze without wavering. “I was at home with my husband. You can ask him to verify that, if you feel you need to. Is there anything else?”

  “Any idea how the Mustang could have wound up in the middle of Loretta’s diner?”

  “Sheriff, this is ridiculous! I’m the victim here, not the perpetrator. I never saw that car before in my life. Of course I don’t know how it got there.”

  Kate tried to swallow past the thickness in her throat. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing her burst into tears. “Am I free to go now?”

  “Almost. I just need one more thing from you.” He scraped his chair back and gestured her toward the desk where Skip
sat, trying not to look like he’d been listening to every word.

  “You can be on your way as soon as Skip takes your fingerprints.”

  Chapter Four

  Kate’s mouth dropped open. She stared at Sheriff Roberts’ impassive face, then looked at Skip, whose dark hazel eyes widened before he dug eagerly into his desk drawer for a fingerprint card and an ink pad.

  She looked at the sheriff again. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

  A smile softened his broad face. “Don’t get your feathers all ruffled, Kate. It’s just routine procedure. Your wallet is the only piece of evidence I have besides that car. I need your prints so I can compare them to the other ones we found at the scene.”

  He gave her a quick nod, then turned on his heel and left her to Skip.

  The deputy inked the pad with gusto, then assumed a solemn expression. “Have you ever been fingerprinted before, Missus Hanlon?”

  Kate refused to answer with anything more than a frosty stare.

  Skip’s cheeks turned bright red. “No, I guess not,” he muttered.

  He reached for her right hand. Kate stiffened when he pressed her forefinger onto the ink pad.

  “Don’t try to help, Missus Hanlon. Just let me do it.”

  I can’t believe this is happening. Kate watched, feeling oddly disconnected from the process while he carefully rolled the tip of each finger across its spot on the card, then did the same thing with her left hand.

  Now I know how a criminal feels.

  Skip handed her a paper towel. “You can use this to clean your hands.”

  Kate scrubbed at her fingers with the towel and frowned when she saw the dark smudges it left behind. Feeling as vulnerable as she did right now, she wasn’t about to go out in public with those telltale marks on her hands.

  Digging in her purse, she pulled out a small bottle of hand sanitizer and rubbed the slippery gel over her fingers. She wrinkled her nose at the pungent scent. It didn’t remove every last trace of ink, but the result was definitely an improvement.

  Without comment, Skip watched her tuck the little bottle back inside her purse, a mildly offended expression his only response.