by Stone, Kyla
Ray shifted toward Daphne. “You think you’re better than me, that it? You and your self-righteous bunch of stupid sheep!”
“No!” Daphne said. “We’re here to help you—”
Ray lifted the gun.
People screamed. Sound went tinny and distant.
Movement out of the corner of her eye.
It happened in an instant. A huge dark streak rushed in from the side and barreled into Ray. Ray grunted and went down hard, collapsing sideways.
The gun went flying from his hands. It landed in the snow a couple of yards away.
The man tackled Ray, flipped him onto his belly, and kneed him in the back, effectively subduing him in less than a second. He was a big burly black guy with an afro and a leather jacket. The pastor of Crossway Church.
“Get off me!” Ray screamed.
“Can’t do that,” Bishop said, breathing hard.
Noah rushed forward, holstered his pistol, and pulled out a pair of handcuffs. He knelt beside Ray and wrestled his hands behind his back. “Ray Shultz, you are under arrest. You have the right to remain silent—”
Two yards behind him, Octavia bent for the Smith and Wesson. She picked it up, turning toward Noah and Bishop, a look of pure hatred contorting her face.
“Noah!” Quinn cried.
Noah leapt to his feet and spun around. Swiftly, he pulled a small, strange weapon—a Taser—from his utility belt, aimed it at Octavia, and squeezed the trigger.
Octavia jerked. She twitched and jittered and fell sideways into the snow. She writhed and moaned. The weapon slipped from her fingers.
Noah picked it up and stuffed it into his coat pocket.
Quinn just stared at her mother thrashing in the snow, a sour-sick taste in the back of her throat. Her stomach plummeted with humiliation, a vile, wriggling shame.
She didn’t want to believe this was happening. Didn’t want to believe her mother would do something so incredibly stupid. And yet, she had. Quinn was the stupid one.
Bishop finished securing Ray with the handcuffs—Ray cursing and hurling insults—while Noah pulled out a second set and slapped them on Octavia’s limp wrists.
“You’re a dead man, Bishop!” Ray screamed. “You hear me? I’ll kill you!”
Bishop ignored him. He stood and brushed the snow off his jeans and Hawaiian shirt. How he wasn’t freezing to death, Quinn had no idea.
The volunteers huddled behind the counter, crying and hugging each other. The dispersed crowd slowly returned in clumps of threes and fours, reluctantly, still stunned and cautious. They stared and pointed at Ray, trussed up in the snow like a stuck pig.
He cursed and swore at them, hurling insults and threats, spitting out the dirty snow that kept spilling into his mouth. Octavia just moaned.
Sickened, Quinn turned away from them both.
“You’re safe now, folks,” Noah said. “The danger is over.”
Somehow, that didn’t make her feel any better.
33
Noah
Day Five
His heart still racing, Noah keyed his radio. There were three other officers currently on duty and within range. “I need assistance at Crossway Church on the corner of Main and Riverside Road. Suspects are Ray Shultz and Octavia Riley. Both subdued and handcuffed.”
Julian answered. “I’m on Apple Blossom, only three blocks away. I’m coming.”
The radio crackled again. “Reynoso here. I’m at the shelter with Hayes. Heading over now.”
Noah clipped the radio to his belt. His hands were trembling. The adrenaline dump left him light-headed and shaky.
Sounds slowly returned—hushed voices, a kid whimpering, chickadees and blue jays chattering in the trees across the parking lot. Ray’s rabid ranting.
Noah clamped his teeth together to keep them from chattering. It wasn’t snowing or windy today, but that didn’t make the cold any less brutal. His nose and fingers ached, and he couldn’t feel his ears anymore.
He turned to Quinn, Bishop, and Daphne. Quinn stood with her hands at her sides, looking lost and forlorn. Bishop had his arm around Daphne and held her close. Only after the danger was over had Daphne allowed herself to cry.
“Thank God you’re okay,” she said to Bishop, her voice quavering. “You could’ve been shot. You could’ve been killed.”
“But I wasn’t,” Bishop soothed her. “God chose to keep us safe. We’re fine. We’re all fine.”
“The kids—” Noah said.
“The kids are still inside,” Daphne said. “Playing just as happily as they were five minutes ago, when you saw them. Don’t worry.”
Noah’s muscles felt like they were all tied in knots, his shoulders tense. He’d dropped by the church that afternoon just to check on Milo for a minute. It was blind luck that he was even here.
Bishop would call it providence, or a miracle, but Noah wasn’t sure where he stood on that kind of stuff. It couldn’t hurt to have God on their side. Especially when the pastor was former military.
He’d been on the verge of pulling the trigger when he glimpsed Bishop sneaking across the road. Then it was a matter of distracting Ray long enough to allow Bishop to do his thing. Which he’d done spectacularly.
Bishop ran a hand over his afro, straightened his leather jacket, and flashed a sheepish grin. “I was across the street, inviting the bar’s patrons to our Bible study tonight, tempting them with a warm, cooked meal. I heard the shouting and headed right back. Guess my military training kicked in, and I just did what I had to do. Didn’t really think about it.”
“I thought I was going to have to shoot him in front of dozens of witnesses, including kids.”
“Thank God you didn’t,” Daphne said, shaking her head.
A young mother stepped forward. She hoisted a toddler on her hip, a cute little thing with big blue eyes who held an empty bottle in his chubby hands. “I—I hope I don’t sound insensitive, Pastor Bishop . . .” She glanced self-consciously from Bishop to Daphne. “But we don’t have anything left at home. Just a can of bean sprouts I was meaning to make in a stir-fry. I’ll eat that for supper, but little Jason won’t.”
Daphne’s face softened. She extricated herself from her husband’s embrace and gave the worried mother a hug. “Don’t worry, honey.”
“We’re not sending anyone home without food,” Bishop said to the crowd. “Get back in line, and we’ll keep going.”
The growl of snowmobile engines split the air as Julian and Reynoso drove up, their department-issued Remington 870 shotguns slung over their shoulders. Daniel Hayes, one of the part-time officers, followed them in a white 1977 Ford F250 outfitted with snow tires and “Police” painted along the sides in black spray paint.
They parked in the parking lot and hurried over. Noah moved to meet them so they could speak without civilians overhearing.
Julian scowled at Ray, who was still shouting threats at every person he laid eyes on. “You haven’t put him out of his misery yet?”
“We’ve got to figure out where to put them,” Noah said.
“Lock him up and throw away the key,” Julian muttered.
“What did he do this time?” Hayes asked.
Noah quickly explained. He’d known Ray Shultz and his kind would be trouble. He just hadn’t expected it to happen quite like this.
Shultz was a local junkie and dealer who lived in the Fall Creek Estates trailer park just past the bridge. He’d been busted for trafficking narcotics, assault and battery, and breaking and entering. He’d done several years of hard time at Lakeland Correctional Facility in Coldwater, only to return to the same lifestyle as soon as he got out.
He and his cousins—the four worthless Carter brothers, along with a bunch of second cousins and like-minded losers—were spread out in the surrounding communities of Bridgman, Niles, Baroda, St. Joe, and Benton Harbor.
As soon as law enforcement put one away, another just popped up to take his relative’s place. They were blights on the en
tire county.
“We’ve got to take them to the courthouse for arraignment,” Hayes said.
“What arraignment?” Reynoso asked. “No judges and certainly no lawyers are showing up for court.”
There were no holding cells in Fall Creek. Their township was too small for a legit precinct. They usually took their suspects to the larger neighboring township. “What about Van Buren and Cass county jails?”
“I topped off the Yamaha yesterday and drove all over creation,” Reynoso said. “Every county within seventy miles. It’s a no-go for anyone. They can’t even handle their own county, let alone take on our problems. Berrien County Jail can’t process anyone electronically, obviously, but the cells all have a manual override. They’re still accepting inmates, but only the worst offenders. Less than a week since the event, and they’re already overflowing with rapists and murderers. All the crazies are coming out of the woodwork. The opportunists who thought they could get away with crap in the middle of a national disaster.”
“So you’re saying not even Berrien will take our guys?” Noah asked.
“Not a chance,” Julian spat, furious. “They’ve all abandoned us.”
“There’s the old prison cell in the basement of town hall,” Noah said. “In the museum section of the old courthouse. Milo’s class just did a tour there. It still works. We could use it as a holding cell until we figure out what to do.”
“Oh hell, no,” Julian said.
“We’ve got to think outside the box,” Noah said.
“It’s a good idea,” Hayes said. “What else are we going to do?”
Julian grimaced. “You ask me, criminals should all be lined up against the wall and shot in the head, Gestapo-style. Why the hell are we watching kids go hungry when they’re still getting three square meals a day courtesy of the government? FEMA’s there. Did Reynoso tell you? Those low-life animals are getting fed and we’re not.”
There was a tense beat of silence.
Noah huffed a cold, steaming breath. Julian was getting himself all worked up. He wasn’t wrong. It wasn’t fair. He felt his own frustration rising, but moaning about it didn’t solve any problems.
When Julian spoke again, his voice was artificially pleasant. “Well, if that’s the plan, then we should pick up the Carter brothers at the same time.”
Noah raised his brows. “What?”
“We all know they’re a serious problem. Why aren’t we rounding them up now? Taking out the bad guys before they wreak havoc.”
“That’s not how the law works,” Noah said.
“That’s how it should work.” Julian shrugged. “Especially now. You’re the one who said we need to think outside the box.”
“You know Chief Briggs will never agree to that,” Hayes said hesitantly.
“He doesn’t need to know everything,” Reynoso said with an apologetic glance at Noah. He usually sided with Julian on things.
“That’s right,” Julian said. “We’ll just pay them a visit, okay? See how things go. No harm in that, is there, Sheridan?”
“I’ll go with you—”
“Stay at the church with your son,” Julian said, his words clipped. “We’ve got this.”
Noah nodded, wishing he felt relieved, but he didn’t.
Julian didn’t say anything more. He turned and headed for the cuffed suspects. Hayes flashed him a sympathetic smile before turning to follow him, Reynoso on his heels.
Hayes went to Octavia, helped her to her feet, and herded her stumbling and groaning toward the snowplow. As Julian and Reynoso hauled Ray up, Ray twisted around.
“I’m coming for you!” Ray shouted at Bishop. “You better be afraid of me. You better be afraid!”
34
Noah
Day Five
Noah crossed the parking lot and returned to the food pantry. Bishop, Daphne, and Quinn were waiting for him.
Quinn crossed her arms over her chest and fixed him with an even stare. “Are you gonna lock him up?”
“Absolutely.”
“And Octavia?”
“Your mother is an accomplice. But I’ll see what I can do to cut her a break.”
“She doesn’t deserve a break.” A shadow passed over her face. “She went after that gun, too.”
“You’re right. But because of you, she didn’t get a chance to hurt anyone. Nice work, by the way. Maybe we should make you a volunteer officer.”
She glared at him. Her bright blue hair was tucked beneath an equally vibrant teal beanie. Her eyebrow and lip rings were silver and studded with tiny sapphire-like jewels.
“You’re Molly Riley’s granddaughter, right?” Daphne asked her. “You came for our Christmas program last year.”
Quinn frowned. “Only because Gran made me.”
“Blunt and honest.” Bishop gave a deep belly laugh. “I’ll always know where I stand with you, that’s for sure. I’m Atticus Bishop and this is my wife, Daphne. My friends just call me Bishop. They think it’s amusing that I’m a pastor, not a priest.”
Quinn just stared at him.
“Are you okay?” Noah asked her.
She scowled. “Fine and dandy. I can practically feel the sprinkles and rainbows bursting out of my ass.”
Noah managed a tight smile. “I daresay we keep meeting under less than ideal circumstances.”
“Yeah, it’s a real series of unfortunate events around here.” Her heavily made-up eyes narrowed. “Maybe you’re bad luck.”
“Maybe you are,” he retorted.
She rolled her eyes. Just as quickly, her expression shifted. The sarcasm and snark dropped away. She kicked at a chunk of snow. “Any update on Gramps?”
A shard of guilt speared him. Quinn’s grandfather was probably still up there on the chairlift. Ski resorts were the last thing on anyone’s priority list.
He still had a mile-long list of tasks himself that included dealing with sanitation for those families without septic systems, not to mention the piles of trash piling up along the curb of every street.
He’d spent hours taking statements after four more break-ins occurred last night. Several fights between neighbors had broken out over the last few days, one accusing the other of stealing their kerosene heater, last jerrycan of gasoline, or a stash of canned goods.
And two more people had died overnight from hypothermia. They were currently storing bodies in the cemetery vault at Mercy Funeral Home a few miles up the road on Old 31. It was already almost full.
“I haven’t forgotten, Quinn.”
“And?”
“I will do it, I promise. We’re in crisis, here. Right now, I’m working as hard as I can to protect the living. People are scared. And when they’re scared, they do stupid things. Exhibit A: Raymond Terrance Shultz.”
“Speaking of doing stupid things.” Quinn’s jaw clenched. She turned to Bishop and Daphne. “Octavia stole from you. Let me pay for it. I don’t have any money, but I’m not afraid of work.”
Daphne waved her hand. “Oh, don’t worry about it. We still have plenty.”
“I’m not a thief. I’m not my mother.”
Noah’s heart swelled with compassion for this tough kid. It couldn’t be easy to be Octavia Riley’s daughter. In a small town like this, everyone knew everyone else’s business. People were quick to judge.
“We know you’re not,” he said quietly.
“I said I would work it off, and I will.”
“Okay.” Daphne gave her a warm smile. “We’d be happy to put you to work, Quinn.”
“And you might want to think about exchanging a day of food for a few hours of work. It’s not asking too much of people to cut some wood, wash blankets, prepare soup, or whatever else you do here.” She angled her chin at the church. “You’ve got the space in the fellowship hall to start growing food indoors with hydroponics. And I’m sure at least a few of your parishioners know how to hunt proficiently.”
“I imagine Molly would say the exact same thing if she wa
s here,” Daphne said, sounding impressed. “That’s a great idea.”
“She’d rap you on the head with her cane for your stupidity, is what she’d do. But I don’t have a cane.”
Bishop snorted. “Yep. Definitely Molly’s granddaughter.”
Bright peals of laughter echoed from inside the church. Three small blurs burst out of the side door. They dashed through the snow and catapulted themselves at Daphne and Bishop.
Juniper and Chloe wrapped their arms around their parents’ legs. “We’re so bored! Come play with us! Please, please, please!”
Milo came more hesitantly, checking out the scene first. To Noah’s surprise, Milo made straight for Quinn. He stopped in front of her and stuck out his hand. “Hi, Quinn,” he said shyly.
Quinn took Milo’s hand and gave it a firm shake. “Hey, Small Fry. How’s it hanging? Jumped off any giant chairlifts lately?”
Milo’s serious face broke into a grin. “Not in a few days. Should we go look for another one?”
“Nah. I like to vary my flavors of deadly peril. Let’s try something different this time. Maybe a little more thrilling rather than terrifying.”
Milo’s smile widened. “Deal.”
Noah watched Milo and Quinn, an idea percolating in his mind. “You want to work, Quinn? I’ve got a proposal for you. Daphne has agreed to watch Milo during the week until supper, but I need someone for the weekends, occasional weeknights, and emergencies. I can pay you with a few cans of food.”
Quinn pulled a face. “I don’t do babysitting.”
Milo squeezed her hand. “Please?”
Quinn’s eyes darkened. She huffed her bangs out of her eyes. “Fine. Whatever. Food is food. I’ll do it.”
Milo pumped his mittened fist in the air. “BAM! Yes!”
“Keeping the food pantry running takes a lot of our focus,” Daphne said. “Even though Juniper, Chloe, and Milo are here during the day, we can’t give them the time and attention that they deserve. If you could come keep an eye on them sometimes, maybe play some games with them—that would be a huge help.”