by Kim O'Brien
“First,” her father said, “don’t talk to any reporters about what happened at the Eat and Go. Second, you’ll do whatever it takes to mend your relationship with Tilly. Last, you’ll practice your introduction of me until you’re blue in the face.” He pointed to her green-tinted cheeks. “By blue, I mean that as an expression.”
Laney flinched as her father’s eyes bored into hers. “Do you have a problem with any of this, Laney?”
She longed to tell him to stop staring at her as if she had directly inspired every tornado that had ever touched down in Texas.
Laney looked down at the diamond shining on her finger. She’d thought that getting married would lead her to a better life, or at least to a much less lonely one. Instead, she felt more apart from everyone than ever.
She sighed and nodded. “I’ll do my best.”
The men at the table relaxed visibly. “Good,” Rock said with relief in his voice, “because I’ve already set up a time with Mother for Saturday night. She’s agreed to teach you how to make pancakes.”
“I didn’t think you liked pancakes,” Laney said, frowning.
“I don’t,” Rock admitted. “It was the one thing I could think of that didn’t involve any sharp instruments.”
“Oh, great,” Laney muttered. “She’s probably going to want me to wear a straitjacket instead of an apron.”
It didn’t help when Rock neither laughed nor disagreed with her.
Sixteen
The next morning, Laney drove with Angel to Good Faith’s undeveloped land and went in search of God’s will by the pond where everything had started.
As the cool, dark water came into sight, some of the tightness seemed to leave Laney’s chest. She filled her lungs with the pine-scented air. Thank You, God, for the beauty of this place. Thank You for Mr. Zoowalsky’s good doctor’s report. I’m glad he’s decided to attend church regularly from now on. Could You please help me find the person who wrote the note in church and help them?
Suddenly Angel yelped joyfully and launched himself in the direction of a tall, broad-shouldered man who stood at the edge of the water.
Laney couldn’t help feeling glad to see him. And Angel was surely happy about it.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
“What are you doing here?” he asked in return. “I thought I told you not to come here by yourself. It’s way too isolated.”
Laney nodded. “That’s exactly why I came.” She sighed. “I needed a place to be alone. Everyone in town thinks what happened last night with that clerk is hilarious.” She paused. “Well, almost everyone.”
“I’m not laughing,” Ty said gently. “Well, not anymore, that is.”
“My dad is about to kill me,” Laney added. “I don’t even want to think about what he’s going to say if the Daily Destiny writes the story.” She shook her head. “And the worst thing is that I’m no closer to finding the person who wrote that note than when I started.”
“Laney, all this will blow over. If your family doesn’t realize what a great heart you have by now, they’re crazy.” He stepped closer to her. “Didn’t Rock think you made a pretty cute Martian?”
“Actually, he thought I needed stress management sessions,” Laney admitted. “Which is better than what my future mother-in-law thought. She told Rock I’m emotionally unstable.” She tried to smile and make light of it. “And you know what that clerk at the convenience store called me—an angel of death.”
“What happened last night wasn’t a big deal,” Ty said. “If you ask me, calling you an angel of death was a huge overstatement.”
In the face of such sympathy, Laney felt her heart melt. “You’re the first person who’s said anything nice about what happened.” She looked up at him. “Thank you, Ty.”
He shrugged it off. “Maybe the next time you feel like going on a stakeout, you’d better call me.”
“You’d go with me?”
“Of course.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously,” Ty promised.
“Because you think I’d mess up without you.”
He shook his head. “Because I want to help you. Because you’re nice.”
Laney felt her throat tighten. She fought to keep the tears down.
“You’re a strong person, Laney. You’ll see all this hoopla through.”
Nobody but him had ever seen strength inside her. She smiled in gratitude. Something beautiful passed between them. She recognized it as friendship. Or was it? Was there something else in his eyes?
Laney took a step away from him. “Look—thanks for listening to me, but I’d better get going.”
“Laney, wait.”
She turned to go, but something in his voice stopped her. Then in the very deep distance she heard the roll of thunder.
She remembered her childhood illusions, how she had imagined she would hear the sound of thunder when she found the man of her dreams. She had long ago decided true love didn’t happen that way.
Maybe Rock and her family were right—she had a huge case of premarital jitters, and this explained why her nerves felt jangled.
“The storm,” Ty said. “It’s coming fast.”
The thunder rumbled again, louder now. The sky darkened, and she saw the first blink of lightning. The rain splattered them, sporadically at first. Big, fat drops fell heavily on their heads and shoulders. Ty looked over his shoulder and frowned. “We’d better run for it.”
He dashed ahead of her into the shelter of the woods. Around them leaves pinged as raindrops exploded onto them. “Hurry,” Ty urged her as they raced down the path she had just traveled.
The rain picked up, hurling pellets that filled the woods with a cacophony of sound, turned leaves a shade of deep, vibrant green, and lifted the sweet smell of rich earth.
Even as the rain soaked her, Laney felt like laughing. She drew in great breaths of the clean, sweet air, made cold by the storm. She delighted in the feel of the earth beneath her pounding feet and the challenge of racing the storm.
Ty reached his car first. Yanking the front door open, he waited for her to get inside then slammed it shut. Moments later he threw himself into the driver’s seat.
Breathing hard, Laney sat listening to the rain pounding the roof of the car. She glanced at Ty but didn’t speak. She didn’t think she could be heard above the roar of the rain. Ty grinned, and she grinned back.
They were both out of breath, dripping wet, and completely at the mercy of the storm. And yet she felt exhilarated.
Lightning flashed in eye-dazzling forks of electricity so beautiful that Laney could only sit in wonder, completely in awe of the forces around them.
Part of her wished the storm would go on forever. She felt safe and comfortable. Even when the seconds between the lightning strikes lengthened into minutes, she sat still, listening to the drum of rain.
Finally Ty broke the silence between them. “That was some storm.”
“It was beautiful, wasn’t it?”
“You weren’t scared?”
Laney shrugged. “I’ve always liked storms. Didn’t anyone ever tell you thunder is just the angels bowling?”
“Not for a long time.” Ty wiped his face with his shirtsleeve. “A storm can be dangerous. It’s not something to romanticize about.”
“I’m not,” Laney said slowly, “but a storm can also have a purpose.”
Ty snorted. “Tell that to someone who loses his home when a tornado hits it.”
“I would tell that person God doesn’t cause bad things to happen,” Laney said. “And one thing I know is He can take any tragedy and turn it into triumph.”
Ty looked at her. “Any tragedy?”
“Any tragedy,” Laney confirmed. “You just need to have faith in Him.”
Laney sensed something stirring within him and hoped it was an urge to embrace a belief that God was no farther away than the chambers of his heart.
Ty frowned as if he were considering he
r words hard. She could sense the silent struggle. She wanted to comfort him, to share her faith, and to help heal whatever scars still pained him.
“Don’t you think it’s time you told me about what’s tearing you up inside?”
Ty looked away. He was quiet for so long that she thought he wouldn’t answer her question. And then he began.
“We ran every morning at 5:30,” he finally said, “at the high school’s cross-country course. I pushed the pace even faster that morning, so when we got back to the school, both of us were doubled over in pain, which meant we’d had a great run.”
As Ty continued his story, Laney closed her eyes and pictured the whole scene unfolding.
❧
Mickey reached over to tousle his younger brother’s hair. “You should have been a distance runner, not a policeman.”
Gasping for breath, Ty sank onto a concrete bench in a courtyard outside the cafeteria. “You’re getting soft is all,” he said. “Sitting around in a cushy teaching job.”
He was only teasing. Both knew it.
“A cushy job is driving around all day in a squad car and eating donuts,” Mickey replied when he had enough air. “The real work is teaching.”
Ty made a snort of disagreement, although in his heart he agreed. Mickey taught with a passion and knowledge that had earned him a National Teacher’s Award. At times he seemed so in touch with his students that he could have been reading their minds.
Ty walked over to an abstract concrete statue, which resembled a very confused cactus plant. He ran his hands over the grooves in the statue wondering what the drilled holes symbolized. He was about to make a flip remark when his hands touched something smooth and cylindrical.
“Check this out,” Ty said, withdrawing his hand. “It’s a bullet case.”
There had been six bullet cases.
“We should report these,” Ty said.
Mickey shook his head. He held the bullet casings in his hand and rolled them around. “It’s probably just a joke.”
Ty shook his head. “We shouldn’t fool around with this.”
“We won’t,” Mickey promised. “Just give me a day to put my feelers out. We’ll find out more that way than if you drive up to the school in a tank and start leveling lockers.”
The sweat dripped into Ty’s eye. He wiped it with the back of his hand. All his instincts demanded immediate action. He looked at his older brother, trying not to be swayed by a lifetime of following Mickey’s advice.
“I don’t know,” Ty said. “I don’t like this.”
Mickey smiled and flicked sweat off his arm at his brother. “Trust me,” he said. “I know the kids here. They’re good kids. All they need is a chance to prove that.”
❧
“Two days later, two students walked into Fairmont High School, and six people died. Mickey died shielding one of the targeted boys with his body.”
Sweat stung Ty’s eyes, the way it had all those years ago when he had found the casings. His hand rubbed his aching eyes, smearing moisture onto already wet skin.
“Mickey would be alive if I’d insisted we go to the police right away. It’s all my fault.”
This was his secret, his guilt, the private pain he had not allowed himself to share with anyone until now. He could barely bring himself to look at Laney.
“I’m so sorry about your brother,” she said. Her eyes were full of a compassion he had never seen before. “But it wasn’t your fault.” She looked hard into his eyes and drew a shaky breath. “We may not understand why tragedies occur, but nothing happens by chance. We’re all here for a reason.”
Ty let out his breath in a huff. “I don’t know what I believe anymore.” He looked at her, his eyes still full of pain. “I heard a hawk cry out earlier today, just before you showed up at the lake.”
“I saw it in the sky,” she said.
“I followed one just like it at the high school,” Ty continued. A distant part of himself begged him to shut up. “I ended up in an outdoor courtyard. I looked down and saw a drawing in the gravel.” He paused. “Someone had sketched what looked like a bullet with a bunch of numbers inside.” He looked down. “I wanted to search lockers for firearms.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“A drawing in the gravel isn’t enough evidence.”
She smiled at him. “What would be the harm in checking the lockers?”
“It would require a search warrant,” Ty explained. “Even if I went over your father’s head, no judge would grant one based on a crude drawing in the gravel.”
“Did you copy down what you saw?”
Ty nodded. “It’s in my wallet. There isn’t much to see, just a bunch of numbers.”
“Could the numbers be a student identification number?”
“No,” Ty replied. “I checked. Student ID numbers have seven digits. This has more.”
“How about a combination to a lock?”
Ty nodded. “Could be,” he said. “I thought so, too. No way to be sure unless we access the records.”
“Can’t you just hack your way into the computer?”
Ty laughed. “Sure. That’s about as likely as a firearms-sniffing dog showing up on my front step.”
“What if you could do a locker-to-locker?” Laney insisted. “What if you had a firearms-sniffing dog at your disposal? Would you do it?”
An unlawful search? Ty couldn’t believe his ears. Did she think he was crazy? “Of course I wouldn’t,” he said. “You think I want to do something illegal just weeks before the election?”
“You don’t have to ask my father for a bomb-sniffing dog. We have one right here in Destiny.”
Ty frowned. “We do?”
“Yes, it’s Angel.”
Ty laughed. “Angel?”
Laney’s chin lifted. “Angel is a graduate of the Canine Development Center in Austin. It was a perk of Dad’s job. Anyway, Angel passed the bomb-sniffing course with flying colors.”
“You trained a papillon to be a police dog?”
Laney nodded. “We’ve never had to use him before. But it’s only been about five years. I’m sure Angel hasn’t forgotten a thing.”
Ty rubbed his hands over his face hard. “That little weenie dog can sniff out gunpowder?”
“With 99.9 percent accuracy,” Laney said. “The instructor in Austin was very impressed.”
“I can’t believe I’m hearing this,” Ty said.
“So when do we do the locker-to-locker search?”
Was he actually considering this? He bit down on his lower lip hard and ordered himself to get a grip.
After a moment, Ty sighed. “Saturday.”
“Will you have a key, or are we going in through a window?”
“Neither,” Ty said grimly. “We’ll pick the lock.”
Seventeen
Three days later, Ty drove his car into the high school parking lot. He spotted Laney instantly, standing beside her van and looking barely old enough to drive it. In her arms, Angel appeared to be the size of a football, and Ty imagined the dog couldn’t have a brain much larger than a pea. He fought the urge to drive right past Laney, past the expectant smile on her face, and past the button-bright eyes of the papillon. He wanted to gun the motor and head back into the land of sanity where there was no risk of hurting his professional reputation.
He rubbed his chin impatiently. It didn’t help that he had never seen a woman who looked less likely to find a gun in a locker than Laney did. She looked fragile and innocent, vulnerable and slightly lost in the nearly empty parking lot.
He jerked the car into gear and swung into the parking spot next to Laney’s minivan. Because his heart jumped when she smiled at him, he scowled as fiercely as he could.
“Angel is ready,” Laney said. She must have given the dog an unseen signal, because it began waving its paw at him gaily. Ty frowned at the papillon. Drug-, bomb-, and firearms-sniffing canines did not wave at people.
“He’s very please
d to help,” Laney continued. The little dog yipped as if in affirmation.
Ty’s frown increased with the ridiculous thought that the dog would see his expression and imitate it. The hairy football, however, grinned at him. Ty shook his head. It was those ears, huge, upright wings, that gave the dog no credibility whatsoever. This wasn’t the sort of dog that could save a school from a shooting. It looked like a small cat could beat the stuffing out of it.
“Maybe this isn’t such a good idea,” Ty said tactfully. “Five years is a long time for a dog to remember everything about sniffing out weapons.”
“Don’t worry,” Laney said. “If a gun is in the building, Angel will find it. I hid my father’s M-54 under my mattress for practice. Angel found it in five minutes.”
“That’s not a gun,” Ty said. He was so surprised his face twisted in horror. “That’s a bazooka. Do you realize if that gun went off, it could shoot through two floors?”
“It’s not a bazooka,” Laney corrected calmly. “It’s classified as an automatic handgun.”
Ty grunted to indicate he disregarded her definition. Didn’t she realize she could have blown off her head? “What was your father thinking to let you borrow it?”
Laney looked briefly at the ground then back up at Ty, who groaned. “Tell me you didn’t steal the gun from him.”
“I didn’t steal the gun,” Laney said softly. “I borrowed it.” She paused. “I’ll put it back tonight.”
Ty slapped his forehead with his hand. “This is just great,” he said. “Why search the school for illegal firearms when we can find a stolen M-54 under your mattress?”
“It’s not under my mattress anymore,” Laney informed him, looking smug. “It’s in the front seat of the minivan, inside the lasagna pan I borrowed from Mother Tilly.”
“That’s supposed to make me feel better?” Ty frowned down at her. “I can just see you hitting a pothole and taking down a helicopter.”
Laney raised her hand to shield her eyes from the sun. “Very funny. I happen to hold the 1985 Junior Miss Sharpshooter title for the state of Texas.”