The Lawman's Second Chance

by Ruth Logan Herne

  Tawny gold-brown, with long lashes and a turned-up nose beneath...

  Those eyes said she geared for trouble at a moment’s notice, and that stoicism, that preparedness, firmed Alex’s internal decision to make their lives better. Happier. Safer. Some way, somehow.

  As they approached their respective cars, Sal jerked his thumb north. “We can drop my car at the station and head over in yours. No sense taking both.”

  “Will do.”

  Alex sensed less hostility from the older detective, but was that because he was finally accepting Alex on board or because everything else paled in comparison to the two banged-up waifs they’d just left? “Will county call us to tell us where they put the kids?”

  “If Fern Moriarity is on the case, she’ll help us out. She’s got a way with kids. Even the ones who don’t dare say anything eventually spill their guts to Fern.” Iuppa paused at his car and stared west, hard. “Storm coming.”

  “Pop-ups throughout the afternoon was all I heard,” Alex countered.

  “My knees took too many hits in football. They’re telling me it’s something more than pop-up thunderstorms.”

  Alex climbed into his car and weighed Sal’s warning. Was this another trick, another way to make him look stupid?

  Except Sal seemed sincere.

  In any case, it wouldn’t hurt to warn his mother-in-law. He pulled her number up on the hands-free unit but the call went to voice mail. Would he sound foolish to leave her a message to watch out for storms when the morning loomed sunny and bright?

  Maybe, but he’d rather be safe than sorry. He left a brief message, pulled into the station house parking lot, picked up Sal and headed into the hills, determined to find whoever was responsible for the condition of those two little kids.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Lisa got the weather alert on her phone about the same time an ominous crack of thunder grumbled from the west. Treed hills prevented her from seeing the approaching storm, but the first loud rumble was followed by a bright slash of cloud-to-cloud lightning. The ensuing rush of noise said the storm was close and moving fast.

  A gust of wind barreled through trees that had been lying limp in the heat of the mid-June day. The wind came with a roar of its own. The force of it pushed the handful of mid-afternoon plant shoppers indoors.

  Lisa hesitated.

  Long tables of flowers stood unprotected. Displays that took hours to finesse marked every corner. They’d sandwiched most of the annuals in an allotted space between two greenhouses, but a really bad storm wouldn’t be stopped by plastic-wrapped metal tubing.

  “Lisa.” Her father waved her in as another gust of wind brought the beginnings of rain. Clearly this storm had no plan to wander in, intensify and roll out. It hit fierce, harsh and indiscriminate. From their back window they could see the northern hills still blanketed in sunshine.

  Overhead and out front?

  Mother Nature raged.

  Sheeting rain obliterated most of their visual. The cracks of thunder followed the lightning almost immediately, marking the storm directly overhead. It raged, nonstop, for just over twenty minutes, and when it was done, Lisa wanted to sit down and cry.

  The fierce storm hadn’t just toppled plants. It upended tables. Knocked over statuary. Dropped a limb from a towering black locust onto a water garden display.

  The spot between the greenhouses was barely touched.

  The primary entrance, loaded with flowers?

  Destroyed.

  The half-dozen folks gathered inside the sales barn looked dumbfounded, as if they didn’t know what to do or say.

  Sirens rang in the distance. That sound thumped Lisa into action. Sure, they took a blow, but these were plants, not people. Plants were replaceable.

  People weren’t.

  And sirens meant someone was in trouble, maybe grave danger.

  Her father turned. Sought her gaze. Mixed emotions marked his expression, but then a movement outside made the group turn, en masse.

  A boat-length silver car cruised into the parking lot. Nancy’s car was followed by Twila’s. And then Gary and Susan Langley pulled in behind. Three more cars followed, and as this group gathered and headed toward the garden store, Ozzie and Lisa went out to meet them.

  Eddie Jo Shupert bustled over from across the street. She was dressed in old painting clothes, rubber shoes and a big, silly hat to guard against the sun.

  Except there was no sun at the moment.

  Nancy reached them first. Mouth grim, she surveyed the damage as Twila, Gary and Susan flanked them from the other side. Gary glared at the mess, then jutted his chin as his gaze swept the group. “Let’s do this.”

  Never a man of many words, Gary’s expression brought a circle of nods.

  “You’re here to help?” A smile started at Ozzie’s mouth and traveled to his eyes as more cars filed in. John Dennehy, from the village. Reverend Hannity and his wife.

  “Eddie Jo sounded the phone tree alarm. Said you folks took a direct hit while most of the populated areas were spared. So here we are.”

  Eddie Jo.

  Lisa scolded herself internally for any former annoyances her intrusive older neighbor may have caused because right here and now, she’d saved the day. “Dad, if you can direct the guys how to reset the tables, we can load the plants onto the flatbed, bring them back to the potting shed and fix them.”

  “Will do.”

  Happy chatter filled the air as this group of unlikely garden workers hauled plants and shrubs this way and that. The women formed two lines in the potting shed, using the children’s workstations. Deft and not-so-deft hands reset the plants individually. Then they wiped down any potting soil from the outside of the pot, and put the refreshed flowers back on the flatbed to make the short ride up front.

  In two hours the garden center was up and running. Clean. Refreshed. And other than quickly drying puddles beneath a hot, summer sun, there was nothing to be seen of the mid-day destruction other than the broken limb Ozzie and Gary lugged into the yard.

  “I don’t know what to say,” Lisa told the motley crew as they high-fived each other on a job well done. “I’m speechless. Thank you seems inadequate.”

  “Many hands make light work,” Twila reminded her. “How many times have you gathered a crew to help someone, Lisa? With gardening, weeding, cancer?” She shrugged one shoulder, saucy as ever. “This time it was our turn. Sakes Almighty, I haven’t been this dirty in who knows how long? Aren’t we a sight?”

  They were. Wet dirt marked arms, sleeves, pants and faces, but nothing that couldn’t be washed off. “Eddie Jo, thank you for calling people.”

  The older woman brushed off Lisa’s gratitude. “Glad to help.”

  “We all were,” John Dennehy added. “When trouble hits a small town, it hits all of us. Losing your mother, then the equipment, now this...” He jutted his chin to indicate the area that had been damaged. “There wasn’t much anyone could do about the first two things.”

  Lisa nodded, understanding.

  “But this?” He smiled, and John Dennehy wasn’t normally a smiling man. “This we could fix.”

  Lisa’s heart took a wide step forward as the makeshift work crew climbed into their cars.

  Three hours ago they’d suffered cataclysmic damage. Now?

  All had been righted because one pesky neighbor had the good sense to start a chain of phone calls on their behalf. “Eddie Jo, thank you.”

  Eddie Jo brushed off the thanks as she headed home. “Like John said, some things we can’t help.” Eddie Jo’s face said that Maggie’s death and Lisa’s cancer fell into that category. “Some we can. That’s what neighbors do, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Will I see you at the kids’ concert tonight?”


  “Probably not.”

  Eddie Jo paused as if wanting to offer advice. Then she stopped herself, winked and waved.

  Nancy approached from Lisa’s left. “I’m going to the concert. Your dad’s riding along. Would you like to go with us?” Her welcome smile made Lisa long to say yes.

  Common sense held her back. Any minute now, cars would pull in with kids for the afternoon class. The timing spared her a long explanation. “I’m going to pass this time, but you have fun. The kids will do a great job.”

  “If you change your mind, let us know,” Nancy continued. “We’ll save you a seat.”

  Lisa read the meaning behind the words. Nancy was offering Lisa a chance to take Jenny’s spot at Alex’s side. The magnanimous offer humbled her, because Nancy understood breast cancer’s dark side better than anyone. “Thank you, Nancy.”

  “You’re welcome.” Nancy reached out and gave Lisa’s hand a quick squeeze, and that small gesture almost brought Lisa to tears, but Nancy veered off the brick path and back to the sales area while Lisa aimed for the potting shed classroom.

  I will not leave you orphaned...

  Holy words of promise and remembrance gathered in her heart. For a few long moments this afternoon, she was ready to throw in the towel. Toss away everything. The storm’s damage had seemed too much to bear initially, as if God Himself sent them a message to stop. Put the brakes on. Do something else.

  And then the convoy of help poured in, ready to make things right, and that message was clear: wait on the Lord. Trust people, trust God, trust yourself.

  Her heart felt stronger, happier, more focused, all because a crew of friends and neighbors joined hands to help. Would Lisa have instigated the phone tree for herself?

  Never. Her stubborn and giving nature offered help but was loath to accept it. So this was a lesson well learned. God helps those who help themselves.

  She greeted the children as they arrived, feeling more in charge than she had since her mother’s unexpected diagnosis. Yes, some things were out of her hands. But it was past time to revive the old Lisa, the one who not only took charge, but believed. That was the person she wanted to be.

  * * *

  Alex and Sal found no sign of the kids’ family. No home. No cabin. Not even a tent or a makeshift trailer.

  They’d gotten drenched midday, but by the end of it, slogging through trails and getting Alex’s car caught in the mud not once, but twice...

  He almost liked Sal Iuppa.

  “You guys got caught in the storm.” The captain stated the obvious as the two investigators walked into the station house midafternoon. He jerked his head left. “You’ve got company. Just arrived.”

  “Fern.” Sal reached out a hand, then indicated Alex with a nod. “My boss, Alex Steele.”

  Sal said the words with no hint of resentment or malice, a welcome change. Alex shook her hand, waved to chairs and sat down. “What’ve we got, Fern?”

  She grimaced. “Not much. The girl is clearly afraid to say anything and the boy is too young to say much. He appears to be nearly three years old but wasn’t very verbal today.”

  “Understandable.”

  She didn’t disagree. “They’ve been through a lot. I’m just glad someone found them before today’s storm.”

  “Us, too.” Sal hunched forward, his gaze direct. “So the girl. She’s not talking? Where’d you place her?”

  “With Mia.”

  Sal grinned. “I figured she’d be full. Glad I was wrong.”

  Alex raised a brow, inviting Sal to continue.

  “Mia is my niece. My sister’s kid. She’s got a spread by Kirkwood Lake. Great place. She doesn’t have any kids of her own. Her husband passed away about four years ago, and left her quietly comfortable.”

  “She does foster care?”

  Fern picked up the thread of conversation. “Mia used to do horse therapy. A riding accident put a halt to that. Now she uses her therapy skills on broken kids, without the horses. And it works.”

  “When can we talk to the kids?” Alex knew they should question the children sooner rather than later, but his own experience taught him kids needed time to reacclimate. If only he’d realized that sooner...

  Fern sent him a frustrated look. “Normally I’d advise waiting, but I don’t think you have that option in this case, Lieutenant. I think you need to talk to them now, because who knows what state their parents are in? If they’re even here at all? We’ve had kids dumped off before.”

  That reality gripped Alex. Who could do such things? Drop your kids off in the mountains and drive away? If that’s what happened, were these kids left alone as attempted murder, hoping two little kids wouldn’t make it out alive?

  “Let’s dry off and head over to the lake.” Alex angled a look at the time. “I’ve got the girls’ concert tonight. Can’t miss it.”

  “Me, too.” Fern stood and hauled a carpetbag-size purse up her arm. “It’s Meaghan’s last one before moving to the middle school.”

  “Five minutes, Fern?”

  She nodded, pulled out her phone, tapped something and was talking a mile-a-minute before Sal and Alex had made it into the back room for fresh clothes. “She’s not my usual experience with social workers,” Alex admitted as he grabbed a new T-shirt from his locker.

  Sal grinned. “She’s married to a sheriff, so she understands the cop side of things. Her soft heart wants to fix everything and give those kids time, but instinct is telling her something bad might be going down and these kids might have been part of it.”

  “Well, they’re safe now.”

  “And we’ll keep ’em that way,” Sal promised.

  * * *

  “Viola!” Lisa hurried forward as Viola wove between the diminishing displays of annuals late that afternoon. “What’s up?”

  “I wanted your opinion on this bunting for the Independence Day float.” Viola held up two gathered lengths of material for Lisa’s inspection. One was done in a solid pink, unbroken. The other used a range of pink strips, sewn together, a wave of pink tones.

  “The stripes, definitely.” Lisa’s lack of indecision firmed Viola’s smile. “And with the pink ribbon symbols—”

  “Made with balloons,” Viola added.

  “Yes.” That would be a feat on July Fourth, getting all those balloons blown up and attached to the ribbon-shaped frame her father had created.

  “Jeannine ordered T-shirts,” Viola added. “Enough for us and more to sell at festivals over the summer. And breast cancer awareness bracelets.”

  “Perfect.” Lisa smiled, caught sight of the approaching cars and jerked her head. “Gotta go. My last session of this year’s kids’ gardening class.”

  “And you’ve got Alex’s girls here, I see.” Viola’s smile broadened. “Teaching them the tricks of the trade. I saw their grandma working up front. Such a nice lady, and not afraid to get dirty. My sister said she dug right in this afternoon, helping clear away the mess left by the storm. I was down-county and didn’t even realize you had trouble, it was that bright and sunny in Wellsville. That’s some good people, right there.”

  “They are.”

  “You’re not yourself these days, Lisa. I can see it in your eyes.” Viola aimed a keen look in Lisa’s direction. “I don’t know what’s going on, but I’ve known you since your mama walked you in a stroller, and these past few weeks, something’s changed. Now you can either tell me or ask me to mind my own business, but maybe you’ve been so busy helping others that you forgot it’s okay to need support yourself. Especially with Maggie gone and all.”

  How did Viola read between the lines? See what she worked so hard to hide? Lisa winced inside. Her eyes watered. “I’m fine, really. You know how it is. You walked the walk. Good days. Bad days. And we shrug our shoulders to both,
don’t we?”

  The older woman stayed quiet a moment, watching her. Weighing things up. Then she pursed her lips, glanced away and motioned to acres of meadow grass surrounding the floral areas. “I can’t take in all this prettiness around us and not believe in God. I see His hand in the beauty of the Earth, but I personally know the fragility of the human body. Our timelines aren’t always written as we’d hope or plan. But whatever is going on...” She shifted her attention and gaze back to Lisa. “I want you to know I’ve been praying for you. Are you seeing a doctor?”

  “Yes. Late tomorrow morning,” Lisa admitted. “Dr. Alvarez.”

  Viola accepted the oncologist’s name with equanimity. “She’s ordered tests?”

  “Several. I get the results when I see her.” She frowned, dug her toe into the gravel and shrugged. “It’s probably nothing, Vi.”

  “Which will give us reason to celebrate.” Viola didn’t make light or minimize Lisa’s concern. “But in the meantime just know I’m praying for strength and blessings to rain on you like the dewfall.”

  Like the dewfall...

  That Biblical phrase was a favorite of Lisa’s. She smiled and hugged the older woman again. “I’ve got to get class going because there’s a kid tugging my arm as we speak.”

  Becky Steele laughed up at them. “I can help you get started, Lisa. I’ll do anything you want me to do. Okay?”

  Viola smiled at the child, gripped Lisa’s arm in a show of solidarity and walked away. Lisa bent to Becky’s height. “Can you do attendance for me, please?”

  “Yes!” Becky strode into the shed, shoulders back, head high, as if in complete control, a wonderful step up from a few weeks back. As she checked off names, Lisa realized something else. Becky’s increasing stability stemmed from her father’s continued healing. Was she right to stay a step removed from the delicate balance Alex and the kids had worked so hard to establish?

  For the moment, yes.

  Did it hurt to quietly remove herself from a picture she longed to create? To finish?