by Lois Richer
* * *
Every nerve in Ginger’s body tingled as she waited for the van to come up the Stantons’ driveway. Glancing around, she found Ty standing with Shaw near the front of the house. He’d attended the early service, explaining he had to get to the Stantons’ to make sure everything was prepared for the homecoming; but she suspected that was simply an excuse to avoid her. Their friendship had taken on an awkward tone. While they couldn’t move forward with their relationship, both of them were reluctant to let go completely.
A cheer rose up from the crowd as the van carrying the Stantons pulled up to the front door. Like a scene from a TV show, the whole town of Dover had turned out to welcome them home. The weather was overcast and cool, but nothing could dampen the volunteers’ excitement. The van door opened, and the lift gate lowered Mr. Stanton to the ground. He would be in the wheelchair many weeks yet, so a special ramp had been installed at the front of the home for easy access.
Ty appeared at her side, taking her hand in his and sending a warm flush along her nerves. The look in his blue eyes reflected her own mixed emotions—a mixture of affection and sadness. She was glad he was with her to see the culmination of the project. They’d both become emotionally invested in completing the home on time. Together they listened as Mrs. Stanton thanked the crowd, her words moving many to tears, then Shaw and Pastor Jim escorted the family inside their new home.
As the crowd began to disperse, Ty gently steered her toward the SUV. Ginger turned a puzzled gaze in his direction.
He read her thoughts. “I’ll take you home.”
“I’d like that.”
Matt and Shelby had taken EJ and Kenny to a movie, and Ginger had been looking forward to some alone time on the deck, rocking and watching the water. But now she welcomed time with Ty.
They drove home in silence. At the cabin, they strolled across the deck, hand in hand. Ty stopped at the door, bending to give her a quick kiss. A smile softened his blue eyes and chiseled features.
Inside, she headed toward the kitchen, floating on the joy of being close to him again, even if it was for a short while. “How does a cup of coffee sound? I can have it ready in a jiffy.”
“Great. I’ll make a fire or we can sit on the deck if you’d...”
She turned to look at him, her heart stopping midbeat when she saw him staring at her notebook, the one where she kept track of the money she owed him. He stiffened, the muscle in his jaw flexing rapidly.
Slowly, he turned, piercing her with his angry blue gaze. “What is this?”
Hurrying around the island, she reached for the notebook, but Ty held it out of her grasp.
“Are you keeping track of the money you think you owe me?”
Heat scorched her cheeks. She intended her list to be a thank-you, but the tone in his voice clearly showed he felt differently. “I wanted to pay you back.”
“I never asked you to.”
“I know, but you didn’t ask us here, either. We were forced on you. You came home looking for peace and quiet, and you found a homeless woman and her child living in your cabin. It only seemed fair to compensate you for your inconvenience.”
Ty’s blue eyes darkened. He held the notebook up with a little shake. “This is more than compensation, Ginger. You’ve listed every minor expense.” He glanced down at the page. “Daily rental fee for cabin. Food. Percentage of utilities. Fee for assembling the bike. Why?”
Ginger wrapped her arms across her middle protectively. She hadn’t expected Ty to be so upset. Memories of John’s angry outbursts threatened to overwhelm her. “I didn’t want to take advantage of you.”
Ty closed the journal and dropped it onto the counter with a loud slap. “You’re not taking advantage of me.”
“Yes, we have. We’ve barged into your life, lived in your home rent-free, driven your car, never paid for food or gas. You fix things. You take us places. You share your family with us. Yes, I think we’ve taken advantage of your kindness far too much. All I wanted to do was repay what we’ve taken from you.”
“Taken?” Ty ran a hand through his hair. “You’ve taken nothing from me, Ginger. You and EJ have given me more than I ever expected to find when I came home to Dover. I thought I wanted peace and quiet, but what I really needed was to focus on something other than my problems. I like having you and EJ here. I don’t want your money. Don’t you understand that I do things for you because I love you?”
She tried to make him understand. “This isn’t about money. It’s about being in debt. I have to think ahead, be prepared in case something should happen.” Anxiety tightened her throat when she saw the fire still burning in his eyes.
Ty set his jaw, taking her shoulders in his hands. “Ginger, you have to let go of this fear that rules your life. You’re afraid of debt, you’re afraid of some disaster waiting around every corner, you’re afraid to love me because something might happen. You’ve built this wall around your heart and your life, trying to keep you and Elliot safe. I get that, but that wall is also keeping me out.”
His words stung like needles. She thought he would understand. “Oh, so now you’re an expert on fear? What about your fear, Ty? Have you made your decision?”
“That’s not the same thing.”
“Really? My fear is holding me back. Your fear of failure is keeping your—how did you put it?—your wheels spinning in the mud.” Ginger balled her fists at her sides. “I think you’d better leave.”
“Ginger...”
She turned her back and walked to the sink. Tears stung the backs of her eyes. Her stomach was churning. She heard his steps as he walked to the door, and the swish of his jacket as he lifted it from the hook.
“I guess you were right. Love isn’t enough.There are too many obstacles between us.”
The door opened, letting a cool rush of winter air into the room, freezing her heart. The door closed with a snap, and her heart broke in two.
* * *
Ginger closed the music books, stacking them neatly on top of the spinet piano. She left the anthem and hymns for Sunday’s service on the music stand for the pianist. Choir practice had gone well. Nearly every member had shown up, which meant Sunday’s anthem would be full and rich.
She sent up a grateful prayer. Playing for the choir had provided her only moments of joy since Ty had found her journal. He’d avoided her for the past two days. He still picked EJ up from school but disappeared the moment she arrived home, leaving her with a lingering sadness in her soul. Thankfully, EJ appeared unaware of the tension between herself and Ty. April had told her Ty was managing the Handy Works ministry while Laura was away on her honeymoon.
Edith Johnson approached the piano, a friendly smile on her face. “We are so glad you could fill in for Sarah, but I hate that you’re leaving us before long.”
“Me, too. I’ve grown very fond of Dover.”
“It’s a charming place to live, and a wonderful, safe place to raise a family.”
Safe. Ginger had to agree. She felt completely safe here in this small town. Something she once doubted she’d ever feel again. Dover had given her a sense of security, along with a connection to family and faith.
“Ginger.” Marilyn Smith approached the piano, her husband at her side. “Could we go over our duet once more? I’m just not sure about our harmony from measure twenty-eight on.”
Ginger smiled at the couple. Sam and Marilyn Smith were singing during the offertory this week, and both were a little nervous. “Of course. Though I think you have it down perfectly.”
Marilyn opened her music. “Well, one more run-through can’t hurt.”
Her husband chuckled. “Amen to that.”
Edith grasped her cane as she turned to face the singers. “Well, I certainly wouldn’t mind hearing it again. Mind if I hang around?”
The rest of the choir members slowly drifted out, their conversations fading as they moved into the hallway and out the back door. Ginger selected the music and sat down on the bench.
She ran through the song twice, until the Smiths felt confident with their parts. As she straightened up the music once again, she was vaguely aware of how quiet the room was with only the four of them. Edith was still in front of the piano, looking over Sunday’s music. Sam and Marilyn were over near the coat and choir robe rack gathering their things. She was so glad she’d agreed to take this position. She enjoyed every moment, and the people she’d met were an added blessing.
“Don’t anybody move, or I swear I’ll kill you all.”
Ginger froze. Someone screamed. Sam uttered a curse.
“Quiet!”
Her gaze landed on a tall man standing just inside the choir room. His face was contorted with anger, his eyes glassy and dark. He held a gun in his hand. Her mind balked at what was happening. A quick glance at the others told her they were equally shocked and terror-stricken.
Blood chilled in her veins.
“What do you want? There’s no money in here.”
Sam’s question spiked her fear higher. She didn’t want to make the man any angrier.
“I want Reed. Where is he?” The gunman scanned the room with his bloodshot eyes. “Why isn’t he here? He’s supposed to be here.”
Ginger swallowed the knot in her throat. She didn’t know who he was talking about.
Sam spoke up again. “He didn’t come tonight.”
A string of loud curses blasted the air. “No! No. He should be here!” The man fumed, pointing his gun at Sam. “Someone is going to pay for this.”
A dark storm of fear raged through Ginger’s mind. Her safe haven here in Dover was gone—shattered in an instant. Would she ever be free of the danger and the violence?
Chapter Thirteen
Ty fought to maintain his calm as he maneuvered his vehicle toward the church. A glacier of fear had stopped his heart. An armed gunman was holding hostages in the choir room of Peace Community. And Ginger was one of them. He’d dropped Elliot off at his parents’ house, explaining only that Ginger needed his help with something at church.
Pulling to a stop near the police perimeter, he climbed out and headed toward Brady. “What do you know?”
“Not much. He won’t respond. He’s made no demands and hasn’t asked to speak to anyone. We have no idea what he wants.”
Ty raked a hand through his hair. “Do we know who it is? Someone local? A drifter?”
“Chief.” An officer approached from the far side. Ty recognized him as Vince Butler. They’d spoken a few times in the gym. “We’ve identified the man. It’s Andy Stringer.”
Ty knew the name. “Stringer. I played basketball in high school with a Stringer.”
Vince nodded. “That’s him.”
“Taking hostages doesn’t sound like the guy I knew. Any idea what’s going on with him?”
Brady shook his head. “Nope. But I intend to find out.”
Ty paced as Brady issued orders to check out Stringer. His thoughts were consumed with Ginger. Was she all right? Had she been harmed? She must be terrified. He wished there was some way to reassure her. When Brady returned, Ty grabbed his arm. “Have you called in your negotiator? You need to open a dialogue with this guy. Make a connection and find out what he wants before someone gets hurt.”
“We don’t have a negotiator. In case you’ve forgotten, we’re a small police force. We don’t deal with this much here. I’ve put in a call for a man from Jackson to come down.”
“No. That will take too long. We need to get on top of this now.” Ty rubbed a hand over his jaw. “I can do it. I’ve worked a couple of hostage situations. Besides, I know this guy. He’ll talk to me.”
Brady shook his head. “You knew him years ago. Besides, you’re not authorized.”
“There’s no law that says a negotiator has to be a professional. I have more experience than anyone else here.” Ty could see his friend weighing his options. “Brady, Ginger is in there.”
“Fine, but we’ve already tried talking to him. He won’t answer.” Brady handed Ty the bullhorn.
“Andy Stringer. It’s Ty Durrant. I want to talk to you.”
A shadow moved across the choir room window. “Tyler. Is that you?”
“Yeah. What’s going on, Beano?”
“I thought you were a cop in California.”
“Texas, but I’m not a cop now. Just a friend who doesn’t want to see anyone hurt. Why don’t you come out so we can talk?”
Silence. “You come in. Alone. Then we’ll talk.”
Brady grabbed Ty’s arm. “Don’t even think about it. That’s not protocol.”
“I’m not interested in procedure. I’m interested in getting those people out safely. I’ll do what I have to.”
Brady grumbled under his breath, “I can’t let you go in there. My head will be on the chopping block.”
“I know what I’m doing.” Ty raised the bullhorn again. “Andy, I don’t like yelling through this thing. I know one of the people with you. I’m going to call her cell. You answer, and we’ll work something out. Okay?” Ty held his breath, praying his old friend would cooperate.
“Yeah. Okay.”
Ty pulled out his cell and dialed Ginger’s number, his heart racing in his chest as he waited to hear her voice.
“Hello?”
Ty braced himself against the fear in her voice. He couldn’t think about that now. “Ginger, give the phone...” A screech. Ty’s stomach lurched.
“Ty?”
He recognized Andy’s voice. “Hey, buddy. What’s going on with you? Why don’t you come out and we’ll catch up?”
“No! You come in. I’m tired of talking on the phone, being put on hold and ignored.”
“Okay, sure. I’m coming right now.” Ty ended the call and started to slip the phone into his pocket. Brady held out another phone.
“Take this one. It’s a direct line to me.”
Ty nodded and headed toward the building. At the back door his hand slid automatically to his hip, but there was no weapon there. A cold sweat broke out on his skin. His hands shook. The sense of vulnerability hit him. What if he failed again? What if he froze when Ginger needed him? He sent up a prayer for strength and courage. He couldn’t give in to the fear and doubt. Ginger and the others were depending on him.
Stringer was waiting, gun drawn, as Ty stepped inside. One glance told him his old friend was drunk and desperate. Not a good combination. Ty kept his hands in plain view. His posture easy and open.
Andy raked him with a hard gaze. “You wired?”
“No.”
“A gun?”
Ty offered a friendly smile. “Nope. I’m not a cop in Dover. I have a phone they want me to give you in case you want to ask for something.” Slowly, Ty pulled the phone from his pocket and held it up. Stringer snatched it from him and motioned him into the choir room.
Ty entered the room, quickly making eye contact with each of the hostages. His gaze lingered an extra moment on Ginger. She looked pale and tense, but otherwise okay. The others were equally frightened but calm. Training kicked in.
He studied Andy a moment, assessing his level of anger. High. He’d have to give him time to calm down and rethink his actions. “Want to tell me what’s troubling you, Beano?”
Stringer’s eyes widened. “No one has called me that in a long time.”
Ty chuckled softly. “All-county forward for the Dover Gators. Six feet four and skinny as a string bean.”
The gun in his hand waivered slightly. “Yeah, that’s how I got the name Beano.”
“Good times.”
Stringer tensed. �
��Not anymore. Good times are gone. They took my life and I want it back.” He paced across the room.
“Tell me, what happened? Maybe we can find a solution, and let these folks go home.”
“No! They’re staying. Nobody leaves. Not until I get everything fixed. Not until they give me back what they took.”
“Who are they?”
Stringer rubbed his head, the gun in his hand waving back and forth. “The people at work. They laid me off after twelve years. That’s not right.” He pointed the gun at Ty. “I wanted to talk to the banker. He’s supposed to be here.”
“Why the banker?”
“He stole my house. I tried talking to them, but they wouldn’t listen. They wouldn’t give me a chance to come up with the money.”
“That’s rough, buddy. I know you’re angry, but maybe you and I can sort this all out.”
“Too late. I lost my family, too. Jennifer took the kids and moved to Biloxi with her mother. Now I’ve got nothing!”
Ty nodded with understanding. “So, what can we do to help?”
Stringer took a step toward him. “I want my house back.”
The way his old friend carelessly handled the weapon told Ty he had no experience with firearms. A drunk, angry man with a loaded weapon was the worst-case scenario. “Okay, maybe we can get in touch with this guy, and see what we can work out. But first, we have to end this situation. Why don’t we let these people go home? They’re not part of this.”
For a moment, Ty thought he might agree, but the man’s anger and frustration kicked in again.
“No! Not until I get my job and my house back.”
Edith quietly sobbed. Ty saw Ginger reach over and take her hand. Stringer saw it, too, and pointed the gun in their direction. Ty’s heart stopped. It took all his determination to remain calm. He fell back on his training. It was clear the older woman was reaching her limit.
“Hey, Beano, what say you let Mrs. Johnson go?”
“No.”
“You know her, pal. Miss Edith makes those amazing chocolate chip cookies that everyone in Dover can’t get enough of.”