Noah maneuvered her out through the driver’s side door and examined her from head to toe. She was shaken, but not a scratch on her pretty face. It was a miracle.
Lisa encouraged Noah to call the police and report the accident. He briefly argued with her, wanting to sober up a little from their celebratory champagne before getting the police involved. Lisa assured him that the conditions, and not alcohol, caused the crash. Noah gave in and made the call.
They stood in the rain, waiting for the authorities to arrive. Noah complained about the twisted metal of what used to be his car, while Lisa kept reminding him they were lucky to be alive, and still had a wedding to plan.
As they waited, Lisa mentioned that she felt cold. Noah went to bring her his denim coat, but before he could get to her, she collapsed.
He called 911, this time in a panic. It seemed like days passed before he could hear the ambulance siren echoing off the river. They rushed Lisa to the hospital.
Noah thought it was some sort of cruel joke when the doctor told him that Lisa was dead. “She’s fine! Not even a scratch!” he kept yelling. He was too distressed to hear the explanation from the doctor that the impact with the tree caused massive internal bleeding and there wasn’t anything that could be done for her.
Later that night, he was arrested and charged with driving under the influence, along with vehicular manslaughter. The nightmare had begun.
Chapter 30
The sound of Lisa’s scream woke Noah from the nightmare. He spotted a pair of headlights following too close behind him. He was in no mood for such a trivial annoyance on
this night
.
As Samerauk Bridge came into his field of vision, lights flashed behind him.
“Cop?” Noah muttered, unable to think of any violation he might have committed. In his brasher days he would have made a run for it. But he cooperated, pulling off to the side of the road just before the bridge.
Noah took a glance into his rear-view mirror. He recognized Kyle Jones exiting the cruiser and walking slowly toward the Jeep. Jones was known to have a special dislike for drunk drivers, which had put Noah in his crosshairs. He’d heard rumors about Jones planting evidence and doctoring Breathalyzers. It wasn’t their first encounter, but he had a bad feeling about this one.
Noah rolled down his window, and a gust of wind blew through the Jeep. “Can I help you, officer?”
Jones smiled, but didn’t look happy. “Please step out of the vehicle, Mr. Warner.”
Noah began to argue, “I wasn’t doing anything wrong, Jones. I don’t…”
The officer took matters into his own hands. He opened the door, and in one fluid motion, grabbed Noah by his jacket and tossed him to the ground.
When Noah tried to get to his feet, Jones took his nightstick and pounded it into his knee. Noah collapsed back to the ground in agony.
Jones pounced on top of him, pushing his face into the pavement. He forcefully twisted Noah’s arms behind him and handcuffed him. He pulled him to his feet, pushing him face-first against the hood of the car, and grinding his nose into the still-warm metal.
“What the hell are you doing, Jones?”
The officer remained calm, almost trance-like. “You are under the arrest for the murder of Lisa Spargo.”
Noah had watched enough TV to know you couldn’t be charged for the same crime twice. He tried to reason with him.
Jones would hear none of it, again jamming Noah’s face into the hood of the car.
“You took an innocent life, Mr. Warner, and now you must pay with your own.”
“You’re crazy.”
“I’m crazy?” he repeated with condemnation. “Crazy is murderers like yourself being allowed to drive the streets.”
“You will never get away with this,” Noah shouted as loud as he could. The only response was his voice echoing back at him.
Jones’ expression never changed. “I remove the evildoers one at a time. If they couldn’t connect me to the death of Senator Kingsbury, with every law enforcement official in this country working on it, I truly doubt I’ll be connected to the suicide of a small-time punk like yourself.” His nightstick landed another blow to Noah’s back with a hollow thud.
Noah gritted his teeth. Only the intense pain distracted him from grasping Jones’ insane claim of killing a US senator. “My brother will never let you get away with this.”
Jones laughed condescendingly. “JP Warner is too wrapped up in his own vanity. He will only be concerned how good he looks in the suit he wears to your funeral.”
“He will know I didn’t kill myself.”
“It wouldn’t be the first time you attempted to take your own life. The way I see it, on the anniversary of your murderous act, and ravaged by guilt, you couldn’t bear to live another day without your beloved Lisa. And this year you found the guts to go through with it.”
The mention of Lisa’s name shot a warm energy through him. Noah wanted to live. He kicked his leg back like a mule, knocking Jones to the ground. He began running away over the bridge, his hands still cuffed behind his back.
Chapter 31
With Tommy present, Gwen and I remained on our best behavior. We weren’t exactly swapping old stories and falling into uncontrollable laughter, but she hadn’t shoved me to the ground in over an hour, so I considered that progress. But a tense awkwardness still hung in the air. There was too much clutter between us to let down our shields—hurt feelings or wounded pride could surface at any moment.
As nightfall arrived, Gwen dropped Tommy off with his father. Despite having been briefed, I was still surprised at how frail Mr. Delaney looked. I remembered him as the strapping carpenter with the year-round tan from working outside, muscles bulging everywhere. I always wanted to be Mr. Delaney when I grew up. Maybe I still did.
He greeted me like the long lost son and told me how happy that Gwen had finally got rid of the old guy with the funny French name, so that his daughter and me could rightfully be together once again. He didn’t actually say that, but he did give me a warm greeting.
Gwen kissed her father goodbye, and I’m pretty sure I heard her whisper in his ear, “Don’t get your hopes up, Dad, it’s not gonna happen.”
Without Tommy’s presence, Gwen and I returned to silence.
Silence has never been my thing, so I broke it, “I missed this.”
“This?”
“The whole thing—the town, the people, the atmosphere.”
“The smell of cows?”
“I missed
you
.”
I caught her blushing, but she quickly covered it with the stony look of ambivalence. “What do you want?”
I was still surprised I said it. I didn’t mean to, but my mouth always had a mind of its own. “What do you mean? I thought it was a simple statement.”
“Everything you do is scripted, so obviously you said that because you want something.”
When my critics called me scripted and self-serving, I always brushed it off. But coming from Gwen, it felt like a gut-punch. It was like the girl from Columbia all over again … only worse.
I covered the hurt with a grin. “What I want Gwen, is to win you a stuffed animal for old times sake. I’ll bet Policeman Kyle never won you a stuffed animal at the fair.”
Gwen took a deep breath, before turning to face me. She displayed the look of a doctor who was about to deliver life-shattering news to a patient.
“Listen, JP, this was fun and all tonight. And I’ll even admit it brought back some good memories. But I must be going—Sunday is my big day at the paper.”
She tried to shake my hand. When I refused, she gave me a “your loss” shrug, and said, “Take care, JP. And when you make your next trip to East Dangerous, please try not to get yourself killed. It was actually good to see you again.”
She walked away. But she wasn’t walking out of his life again without a fight. “Do you want to know what I really want, Gwen?”
“You had your chance,” she said, her step never slowing.
“I want a job.”
“That I can’t help you with.”
“Sure you can, I know you’re running the
Gazette
. Murray told me.”
“We’re not hiring.”
“Don’t make me go to Murray—you know he’ll hire me.”
That made her stop. She pirouetted back toward me, looking annoyed. “Except that he gave me the last word on staffing in my contract. Like I said, we’re not hiring, but even if we were, we would hire someone who would stick around more than a couple of weeks before he went off to something
bigger and better
.”
“I told you, I’m here for good.”
She turned and began walking away again as if to say she wouldn’t even dignify the statement with an answer—this time her strut had finality to it. She kept getting farther away—like a dream of mine where she keeps getting smaller and smaller, and there is nothing I can do to stop it.
Without turning, she bellowed back at me, “We’re not interested in your services at the time, Mr. Warner, but thank you for your interest.”
“I don’t know why not—I was just offered the highest salary of anyone in the history of the news business today. I think that would be quite a coup for the
Gazette.”
“You use the term
news business
loosely. We can’t afford you!”
“I’ll work for free.”
“We can’t afford that much.”
“I’ll pay
you
.”
I knew her stubborn pride wouldn’t allow her to accept the Gross National Product of Japan to hire me, but I kept shouting, and receiving many strange looks from the fair-goers.
“I’ll give you exclusive rights to my first interview since the hostage crisis. All the major networks would kill for it.”
“That’s the thing that makes you great, JP. Most people waste so much time trying to conceal their inflated opinions of themselves. But not you.”
“You’ll sell more papers than you will the next three years combined!”
The
Gazette
was in constant financial trouble—what small town paper wasn’t? Hell, most major newspapers were. But I knew she wasn’t going to cave in.
All I could do was watch her long legs glide away. I continued watching as she reached into her purse and pulled out a cell phone.
Calling Jones? A late night dinner after he gets off his shift? And then arrest me for harassing his girl?
My stomach sank.
She pushed her long hair behind her ear, and answered a call. Maybe Jones was calling her. Whatever was said, it stopped her in her tracks—a jolting stop. She dropped the phone back in her purse and began jogging back in my direction. Her face filled with dread.
I had often dreamed of Gwen desperately running toward me, but I got the feeling this time there would be no leaping into each other’s arms and kissing like there was no tomorrow, like in the dream.
When she reached me, she said, “It’s your brother, JP—it’s Noah.”
_______________________________________________________
Part Three -
Noah’s Ark
_______________________________________________________
Chapter 32
Gilbert, Arizona
Labor Day Weekend—1995
“Are you almost ready?” shouted Lucy Enriquez.
Kyle took another glance in the mirror, playing with his short-cropped hair. He was admittedly pretty average in all regards, from his looks to his medium height, and he certainly wasn’t one of those charmers who could captivate a room with his personality. So he was as surprised as most that he was able to attract such a desirable girlfriend as Lucy, even if she wasn’t always a ray of sunshine.
When he stepped into the foyer, he immediately stopped in his tracks. Lucy looked annoyed, as usual, but also beautiful. He was drawn to the dark curls that fell onto her tanned shoulders like she just appeared out of a shampoo commercial. At work, where she was his commanding officer, she always wore a ponytail and little makeup, along with the stiff blue and gold police uniform. It had nothing on this sizzling pink number she was wearing for the picnic.
“Wow,” was all he could say.
She smiled. “Don’t even think you can charm your way out of making us late, Kyle Jones.”
After spending most of his life in the military, he’d never been late for anything. But since becoming a “civilian,” and meeting Lucy, his outlook had changed on a lot of things.
“Should I see if Grady wants to join us tonight?” he asked, already bracing for the answer.
Her smile suddenly disappeared, and she looked like she was fighting back every urge to lash out. It reminded him of Mount St. Helens, a dormant volcano three hours from Seattle, where he went on the anniversary of his parents’ death to spread their ashes, as was their request. He knew that Lucy could erupt at any moment.
“It’s not bad enough that you pay his rent—now you’re going to subsidize a night out for him?”
“Shh … he’s in the next room.”
“I really don’t care, Kyle!” her voice raised. “He sits on the couch all day watching that stupid murder trial, hoping you’ll feel sorry for him and keep supporting his free ride!”
“He’s been sick, Lucy, and he’s had some tough luck.”
When Kyle left the Air Force, law enforcement felt like a natural transition. As an “army brat” who’d lived everywhere from Germany to Lake Cumberland, Kentucky, he welcomed putting down roots in Gilbert, which was near Luke Air Force Base, his last stop in the military. It provided a stability he thought he’d never find again after the deaths of his parents.
But post-military life had been a struggle for Grady. He was lethargic and sick all the time, and blamed it on a mysterious illness the media was calling Gulf War Syndrome. This was completely different from the Grady Benson that Kyle remembered from their Air Force days. Back then, he was one of the most brash and daring pilots that Kyle had ever known. And when he wasn’t flying, Grady spent his time on the ski slopes and rollerblading around the base.