by Robin Caroll
First George, now Houston? Were they scheming behind his back?
"I know you like to keep your love life personal, and for the most part, I think I do a good job of respecting that."
Maddox took hold of Houston's arm again, this time leading him out the back entrance. "But?"
Houston sighed and pulled his arm free again. "But there's something about Layla. And you. Together."
"Yeah, we fight like cats and dogs." Maddox managed to squeeze out a weak chuckle, despite the awareness sneaking up his throat.
"Funny you should say that."
Houston had gone off the deep end. "Why?"
"The boys' dog and Margie's cat have this thing. They take turns chasing each other around the house. They bat and snarl at one another pretty much all day."
"My point exactly."
"But then as it turns to night, they curl up together on the couch and fall asleep." Houston grinned and clapped Maddox's shoulder. "That, my friend, is what makes me so sure there's a future for you and Layla."
Maddox shook his head. "Man, I don't get it."
"You'll figure it out." Houston laughed and crossed the lot to the cruiser.
His partner had apparently been working too hard. He made not a lick of sense.
Maddox folded himself into the passenger seat, fastened his seat belt, and tried to organize his thoughts to ask Houston what he meant.
His cell phone chirped on his hip. He grabbed it and flipped it open. "Hello."
"Hey, Maddox. How ya doing?" George wouldn't use his regular greeting if something was wrong with Pop.
"Hiya, George. What's up?"
"They're releasing your father."
"Already?" But he'd had a heart attack. Suffered damage.
"They've run all the tests they can for now. Doctor says results will be in later, and they'll call Tyson. He's doing well, so they're processing his paperwork now."
Maddox sighed. "Do I need to come get him?"
"Nah. I'll take him home and get him settled in."
"Thanks, George. He doesn't deserve you."
"You'll stop by tonight to see him?"
Apprehension flooded his senses. "That might not be such a good idea, Uncle George."
"Don't be bullheaded, son. Just drop by and check on him. I can't stay with him 24-7."
Guilt shoved the apprehension out of the way. Pop wasn't George's responsibility. "I'll come by after my shift."
"Good boy. I'll let Tyson know."
The disconnection buzzed against his ear. Maddox replaced his phone in silence.
So many conflictions—over Layla and Pop—washed over him that he couldn't filter them all. He needed guidance. Wisdom. Peace.
But all three seemed lost in the swirl of emotions.
Houston lifted a piece of paper. "Did you see the memo?"
Maddox's heart seized. "The memo?"
Houston nodded.
"No. What's the news?"
His partner dropped his head. "I'm sorry, Maddox. He's staying on as commander."
Maddox's tongue doubled in size. He swallowed. Again. "Man, it's okay. I probably wouldn't have gotten the promotion anyway." Great. One more thing his father would fault him for—not even being able to snag a promotion.
What was he going to do? Did he want to stay as an investigator with no promotions in sight?
"THIS IS ALL SO scary." Alana fluffed her bangs in the emergency room waiting area.
Layla looked around the room filled with members of Eternal Springs Christian church. She was becoming sick of the place. But this time she wasn't alone in her worry. After Layla had made a few calls, most of the congregation rushed to the hospital. Everyone was worried about Pastor.
Especially in light of Ms. Ethel's passing. And Mr. James still in ICU with no hint of a diagnosis.
"I've been praying."
"Everyone has. It's terrible." Alana laid her hand on her sister's. "Thank God you were there when he collapsed."
Layla nodded, but she didn't feel lucky. She felt sick. All the blood from his nose. His gasping for air. She'd been terrified the ambulance wouldn't arrive in time. Pastor had been so pale. And cold. She shivered at the memory.
"Wonder when someone will come out and talk to us?" Alana peered at the nurse sitting behind the triage desk.
"As soon as they can. They'd probably like us to leave."
"We can't. Not until we know about Pastor."
"I know." Layla stood, unable to be idle any longer. It'd been hours since she followed the ambulance here. Hours since she called everyone. Hours since they heard anything. All she knew for certain was that Pastor had still been breathing, albeit laboriously, when he arrived.
Alana stood as well. "What?"
"Nothing. I'm just tired of sitting is all." And tired of waiting in this same room to hear if someone she cared about was going to make it.
"I checked on Ms. Betty a bit ago."
Layla stretched. "Any change?"
"No. Still no idea what's making Mr. James sick."
This was a hospital, for crying out loud. Doctors were supposed to be able to tell patients what was wrong with them. They hadn't for Ms. Ethel. Not for Mr. James. And now Pastor.
"I called Ms. Ethel's grandson to let him know what's happened. He said they'd planned for her funeral to be Saturday, but now, with Pastor sick . . . He's waiting for an update before he makes any announcements."
"Aren't we all?"
"Have you talked to Jeffery?"
Layla spun to stare at her sister. "No. What's wrong?"
"Nothing." Alana smiled. "I just heard this morning that Jeffery and his wife are expecting."
"Oh, that's wonderful. They've been trying." But inside she ached a bit that Jeffery hadn't told her. She'd had to hear the news through the grapevine. She pushed away the hurt. He probably intended to tell her tonight at practice.
Practice! Oh no. She glanced at her watch. Only thirty more minutes before she'd have to rush home and get changed to meet him at the studio.
"May I have your attention please?" A doctor stood at the entrance of the waiting room.
Everyone gave the man in scrubs and white jacket their full attention.
"Pastor Chaney is stable. We're admitting him to ICU."
The room exploded with everyone talking at once.
"What's wrong with him?"
"Is it the same thing as James Page?"
"Is this contagious?"
The doctor held up his hands, and silence ensued. "We don't know what this is. Because this is the fourth admission with the same symptoms, we've called in a specialist from the CDC."
The Center for Disease Control was being called in? Layla hugged herself. Lord, what's happening here? Wait a minute . . . fourth? Who was the other person?
"That's all I can tell you at this time. No one will be allowed to visit in ICU unless you're Mr. Chaney's next of kin." The doctor spun on his heel and took off down the hall, ignoring the questions some people asked.
The noise level in the room hummed as people began talking again. Layla grabbed Alana's hand and led her outside where she could think.
"This just got even scarier." Alana's bottom lip trembled, just as it'd done when she was a child and frightened.
Layla squeezed her sister's hand. "At least they've called in someone who'll figure it out."
"You think the CDC will?"
"That's what they do." At least, she prayed they'd make sense of everything.
Alana nodded. "I guess there's nothing else for us to do here."
"I've got to meet Jeffery at the studio." She glanced at her watch again. "I'm already cutting it close."
Alana gave her a hug. "I'm going to go update Ms. Betty and see if I can get her to go to the cafeteria with me for supper."
"Good idea." Layla planted a kiss on her sister's cheek. "I'll call you tonight. Call me if you hear anything."
"I will."
Layla rushed toward her truck, her nerves in even
tighter knots. The CDC. Had they all been exposed to something toxic? Would she get sick? Alana?
Who was next?
TWENTY-ONE
"Freedom prospers when religion is vibrant and the rule of law under God is acknowledged."
—RONALD REAGAN
THE TABLE HUMMED. LOUDLY. He must be dreaming.
It hummed again, even louder it seemed.
Maddox rolled over and grabbed his cell from the coffee table. "Bishop."
"Detective Bishop, this is dispatch. Emergency call at Second Chances. Report of an explosion. Fire and emergency medical personnel are en route. Eternal Springs PD has requested law enforcement backup. Specifically asked for you and Detective Wallace."
Maddox shot upright. He raked a hand down his face. "Yeah. I'm there."
"Detective Wallace is on his way. Requested you meet him at the scene."
"Got it." Maddox shut his phone and stood, stretching. Sleeping on his father's couch wasn't much better than the hospital chair.
He reached for his shirt and tugged it over his head, then checked the time. Three a.m. Jeans would have to suffice. He'd come over to his father's after his shift and running by his place to shower. Where had he put his shoes?
The bedroom door creaked open. "Maddox?"
He didn't have time to deal with his father. "Go back to bed, Pop. I've got a call." By the front door—that's where he'd left his shoes.
"A murder?" His father swayed on his feet.
Maddox moved fast to steady him. George had warned the medications made Pop light-headed. He'd been sleeping soundly from the time Maddox had arrived last night. "No. I don't know." He turned his father toward his bedroom.
"Are you coming back? We need to have a serious talk, Maddox."
Tension tugged at him as he helped his father into bed. "I don't know how long I'll be gone." He pulled the comforter over his father, turning it down under the shoulder. Just like his mom had tucked him in every night as a child.
Pop looked up at him, his face serene. "Be careful, son. I love you." His eyes fluttered closed, then his breathing evened out. A loud snore followed.
Maddox froze, but his heart raced. His father had never— No, it had to be the medication they had Pop on.
He didn't have time to think about this. He carefully closed his father's bedroom door, slipped on his shoes, then rushed for his car.
The early morning temperatures had dipped below forty. Maddox shivered, wishing he had a thicker jacket. No time to go in and borrow one of Pop's.
As he drove, he sorted out what the dispatcher had said. An explosion? From what? They didn't keep explosive materials at Second Chances. Not that he knew of anyway, and he couldn't think of a reason why they would.
His body chilled as his thinking process continued. Explosions happened because of illegal drug manufacturing. Was that why local PD had requested Houston's and his presence? He punched harder on the accelerator.
Traffic was minimal. He even managed to drive over the bridge without getting nauseated.
Well before he'd passed through Westlake and hit Eternal Springs city limits, he could see the orange hue of the dark sky. The closer he drew to the scene, the heavier the fog. No, it wasn't fog—it was smoke. Dense and unforgiving.
He turned onto the street that housed Second Chances, red and blue flashing lights were beacons guiding him. He parked beside Houston's cruiser and stepped into the cold air, now heavy with smoke, ash, and chaos.
Stepping from the car, he spied Houston's bright orange sweatshirt. His partner didn't know the meaning of dressing subtly. Right now, it worked for Maddox.
"Houston!" His voice was lost in the commotion.
Maddox stepped over extended hoses, around firemen and EMTs. He grabbed his partner's arm. "What's happened?"
"From what the fire department can determine, a device was detonated in the main building. None of the housing halls were directly hit, although some of those sleeping in them are being treated for smoke inhalation and cuts from the glass blown from the blast."
"A bomb?" He tried to wrap his mind around the implication. Somebody had set a bomb at Second Chances? Why?
Houston nodded. "That's what the fire department says. They've called in their specialists for confirmation."
Maddox glanced over the pandemonium, his chest constricting. "Where's Alana? She lives on the second floor of the main building."
"She wasn't there when it went off."
He let out a sigh. "She's okay?"
"They took her to the hospital to check her out, but they said she's physically fine." Houston tossed him a look that told him there was more. "She was in the back part of the main building, in a storeroom. She and her fiancé had been putting some of her things in storage." Houston shook his head. "Her fiancé was carrying a box down the stairs when the detonation hit."
Maddox's muscles tensed. "And?"
"He was hit pretty bad. He was the first one the ambulance rushed off. Alana's second in command and the doctors are with the residents right now. Everyone is accounted for."
"Has anyone called Layla?"
"I thought you would want to." Houston gave him a pointed stare. "And maybe this should be in person, Maddox."
What felt like infinity passed. Yeah, Layla needed to be told in person. She'd probably need someone to drive her to the hospital. "I'll go now."
Houston clapped his shoulder. "Good man. Keep in touch."
Maddox rushed back to his car, letting the words he'd say firm up in his mind. How, exactly, did you tell someone about such a tragedy?
If only he knew something that would soften the blow.
Knowing Layla, he'd better have facts. He whipped out his cell phone and dialed the direct line for the dispatcher. He'd have them patch him through to the hospital. No way would he deliver bad news to Layla without knowing the current status of her sister and Alana's fiancé.
It was bad enough that he'd have to be the bearer of such devastating news.
BAM! BAM! BAM!
Layla buried her head under the pillow. It could not be time to get up yet.
Bam! Bam!
"Layla!"
That was no alarm clock. She bolted from her bed. Her feet got tangled in the sheet and she fell. Her recently scabbed-over knees took the brunt of her weight. Pain made her cry out. Loudly.
"Layla, are you okay?"
She growled under her breath and grabbed the side of the bed, pulling herself upright. Great, the scabs were bleeding under her flannel pajama bottoms. She hobbled down the hall.
Bam! Bam! Bam!
"Layla!"
She jerked open the door. "What?" Her breath caught in her lungs.
Maddox stood on her porch. In jeans and a sweater, he looked like a vision straight from her dreams. His bluer-than-blue eyes glistened under the motion detector lights. His face boasted a five o'clock shadow on its strong lines. The total package of Maddox Bishop tied her stomach into knots. Tight knots.
"Are you okay? I heard a thump." His lids were at half mast.
Her heart skidded to a stop. She must look like a swamp witch or something. She smoothed down her oversized pajama top. "Uh, yeah." And then the oddness of it all smacked her. "What time is it?"
He glanced at his watch. "Four."
The sleep and fuzziness evaporated as adrenaline surged through her. Even her knees stopped hurting. "What's wrong?" Her office again?
"First off, you need to know that Alana's okay."
She sagged against the door frame. "What happened?"
He hesitated, then wrapped an arm around her waist and stepped over the threshold with her. He pushed the door closed with his foot, then led her to the couch and sat her down. He sat beside her, keeping his arm around her. "It's Second Chances."
She was going to be sick. "W-What?"
"Best they can figure out at this point, there was a bomb in the main building."
"A bomb?" Oh, dear Lord . . . "Alana?"
"Is fine.
She's at the hospital getting treated for minor cuts and smoke inhalation."
A bomb. Second Chances. Her childhood home. Tears burned her eyes. "The retreat?"
White circled his lips. "The main building's pretty much gone."
She couldn't have stopped the tears from falling if she'd wanted to. All the memories . . . Alana and her growing up . . . Daddy. She buried her face in her hands.
Maddox pulled her to him, holding her. Warmth seeped from him deep into her. Soul-deep her daddy would've said.
Layla let the sobs have their way, then sniffed and pushed away from Maddox. "I need to go see Alana. She'll be beside herself."
He tightened his hold on her. "Layla, there's something else."
Oh, God, give me strength. "What?"
"Alana's fiancé was closer to the blast than anyone. He received some severe burns."
"Cameron?" Sweet Jesus, help him. Help Alana. Help us all.
"It's pretty bad." Maddox's expression was graver than she'd ever imagined.
She took a moment to register the information. Then eased out of Maddox's hold. "I'll get dressed. I need to be there for Alana. And Cameron."
He nodded. "I'll drive you."
Layla stumbled down the hall to her bedroom. She threw on the first thing she grabbed from her drawer—a pair of sweats. She brushed her teeth and hair, then slipped her feet into tennis shoes. In less than ten minutes, she returned to her living room to find Maddox waiting on her couch. "I'm ready."
He stood and took her elbow. While she didn't need someone guiding her, it sure was nice and comforting to feel his hold on her. He opened the passenger door of a cobalt blue Mustang for her.
She waited until he'd started the engine to speak. "This doesn't look like a sheriff's department–issued vehicle." Talk about anything to stop worrying. About Alana. About Cameron. Mourning the loss of her childhood home of memories.
"It's my personal car." Maddox whipped the car out of the driveway and onto the road. He punched the gas, flying toward Lake Charles.
Back pressed into the seat, she could see how the car fit the man. Even the color . . . it made his eyes seem that much bluer.