Authors: Heather Gudenkauf
Chapter 71:
Mrs. Oliver
“B
eth?” A small voice came from the back of the room. Mrs. Oliver spun around, the man’s hand still gripping her upper arm firmly. Natalie Cragg looked up at her older sister in surprise, the tail of her braid damp from where she had been sucking on her hair nervously.
“Jesus H. Christ,” the man said in defeat. “What kind of town is this? Doesn’t
anyone
know who their father is?” Beth stood in stunned silence looking from her little sister and back to the gunman. The man dropped Mrs. Oliver’s arm and shoved her aside, sending her crashing into the iron radiator beneath the window. A sharp pain spread from her hip down the length of her leg. The man grabbed Beth by her ponytail and forced her to her knees, waving the gun around carelessly. “Who else is out there?” the man asked.
“No one, j-just me,” Beth stammered. “I thought…I thought you were…”
“I’m not your fucking father,” the man spat, yanking the ponytail violently, causing Beth to cry with fright. “You better not be lying to me.” He was breathing heavily and had a dangerous expression on his face.
“I’m not, I’m not lying,” Beth assured him desperately.
Mrs. Oliver felt that things were spiraling quickly out of control and hobbled back toward the man. “Can’t you see she’s terrified?” Mrs. Oliver said. “Look at her.” The man’s eyes seemed to clear a bit and he released Beth’s hair and she collapsed into a sobbing heap on the floor. Mrs. Oliver bent down and whispered soothingly in her ear. “Go to Natalie now, Beth. It’s going to be okay. See—” Mrs. Oliver tenderly brushed Beth’s hair away from her sweaty forehead “—it’s not your father. Go on and sit with your sister now.” Beth nodded and, still crying, joined her sister in the back of the classroom.
A burning rage grew in Mrs. Oliver; she straightened her spine, drawing herself up to her fullest height, trying to ignore the stabbing pain in her hip. She turned to the gunman. “Lay one more hand on one of these children—” Before she could finish her sentence the man reared back his hand. Mrs. Oliver’s last thought before he cuffed her soundly on the side of the head with the gun was that once again Cal was right—
the easiest way to save face is to keep the lower half shut.
Chapter 72:
Meg
T
he medical examiner investigator, Fred Ramsey, lives only about twenty minutes from Broken Branch and should be here shortly. I quickly decide that no one is going to disturb the body so I hike through the snow back to my car, with Twinkie on my heels, in order to meet Fred and the ambulance and warm up. I settle Twinkie into the backseat, well aware of the crap I’m going to get for being a softie, but I can’t leave her out in the cold; the temperature is dropping quickly and the winds have picked up. It must be below zero with the windchill factor and I can only imagine how logistically difficult it is over at the school. I dig into my glove compartment and pull out the plastic bag filled with dog biscuits and give them all to Twinkie, who makes short order of them and then curls up into a golden ball and closes her eyes. Exactly what I’d like to do right about now.
I’m taking notes regarding my discovery of Ray Cragg’s body, the interior of the cruiser is finally warm enough for me to remove my gloves and I can actually feel my toes again when my cell phone buzzes. I’m hoping it’s Maria but the display reads
Stuart.
My curiosity gets the best of me and I answer. “Yes, Stuart? Very, very busy here.”
“Hi, Meg,” Stuart whispers. “Two quick questions for you—”
“No comment, no comment,” I answer in a bored voice.
“Ha. Good one. No, seriously. This one is off the record if you’d like,” he says softly.
“Oh, I like,” I respond, angry at myself for getting pulled into Stuart’s orbit again. “Why are you whispering, Stuart?”
“I don’t want Bricker to hear my conversation. He’s always trying to home in on my stories. Question one. Do you ever miss me?”
“How’s your wife doing, Stuart?” I snap.
“Okay, sorry. She’s fine.”
“I’m happy to hear it. You used up one of your questions.”
“I kind of have the feeling you haven’t heard this news yet.” Stuart hesitates as if maybe continuing this conversation isn’t such a good idea.
“Spit it out, Stuart.”
“Have you heard about your ex-husband?”
I straighten in my seat. I can see a vehicle moving slowly through the snow toward the Cragg farm, its headlights barely a glint against the brightness of the snow. “What about Tim? Is he okay?”
“That’s the thing. No one seems to know where he is. My sources tell me that a call came into the Waterloo P.D. and that he just up and disappeared.”
My mind is whirling. Where could Tim be? It’s not like him to take off, especially when he has a visit with Maria.
“Meg,” he says gently, tenderly, as if he still cares about me. “My source speculated that maybe, just maybe, he’s the guy in the school.”
“That doesn’t make sense,” I say out loud before I remember I’m talking to a reporter, a reporter I once thought I could love, but certainly don’t trust. “No comment,” I say, and disconnect. If I find out who the hell Stuart’s source is, I’m going to arrest him myself.
As the car comes closer I recognize Fred Ramsey’s white SUV. Trailing behind him is another car that looks to be a Stark County sheriff’s vehicle.
My feet feel like lead. I’m still in shock from Stuart’s words. Tim, the intruder at Maria’s school? No way. Stuart is messing with me. I force myself from the car to greet the men.
“Fred,” I say, “thanks for coming so quickly. The body is this way, in the barn.” I move to lead Fred to the barn when the sheriff’s deputy steps from his car. Unusual for a deputy from another county to work a scene. I try to tell myself that it’s because this is an unusual day, unusual circumstances, but a ripple of fear moves through my limbs.
“Officer Barrett?” he says formally. I nod. “I’m Deputy Sheriff Robert Hine from the Stark County Sheriff’s Department. We’re assisting your department because of all that’s going on over at the school. Your chief wants me to take over here so that you’ll be able to head back into Broken Branch.”
“Did he say why?” I ask.
“No, ma’am, just that you are to report to the command center at the school.”
I climb back into my car and, with shaking hands, I slide the gear into Drive. I hear Twinkie yawn in the backseat. I’ve forgotten about the poor dog. I don’t have time to take her to animal control or to take her to Darlene Cragg’s house without having to explain why I have her in the first place.
Mercifully, the snow has stopped for the time being but the winds continue to blow, making visibility difficult. I try to call Tim’s cell phone but it goes directly to voice mail. “Tim,” I say, “please call me right away when you get this message.”
I call Judith, Tim’s mother, hoping to get more information, but she isn’t answering, either. I consider calling Maria, but I don’t know what she knows. I don’t want to worry or upset her.
I know Tim’s not the man in the school. There’s no reason for it. He doesn’t own a gun, doesn’t have a mean bone in his body. That isn’t the man I was married to.
As much as I don’t want to, I put a call in to Chief McKinney.
Chapter 73:
Will
W
ill thought that he would be tied up at the Cragg farm for hours giving his statement to the sheriff’s deputy about how he came to be in the Cragg home, found an injured Theodore, how that led to the discovery of Ray’s suicide. Surprisingly, the officer simply took Will’s statement, wrote down his contact information and sent him on his way.
He decided to drive back to the farm, check in with Daniel on how the calving was going. At times there were complications with calving in the best of weather, but in bitter conditions like this it could be deadly. He knew he should head back to Lonnie’s, but the thought of sitting and just waiting made his skin itch. The Cragg farm was just minutes from Will’s place but drifts of snow were scudding across the roads in erratic sheets, making visibility difficult. Just as Will was nearing his farm, faint headlights winked weakly from an approaching vehicle. Daniel. And he had the cattle trailer hitched to his truck. The two vehicles stopped, and Will powered down his window. The cold was relentless and instantly he was chilled through.
“I’m heading over to Dr. Nevara’s. Number 421 is in distress and I’m thinking she’s going to need a C-section,” Daniel explained. “Herb Clemens is watching over the others, so no worries there.”
Will felt a rush of gratitude toward his friends and neighbors; they could always be counted on. Whether you needed help planting your corn or birthing calves, they were there. “I’ll follow you to Dr. Nevara’s and then head back to Lonnie’s.” Will paused, trying to decide whether or not to tell Daniel about Ray Cragg’s suicide. It could wait, he figured. Best if Verna and Darlene learned about it before the town at large.
Will turned his truck around, careful not to slide into the snow-driven ditches, and followed Daniel along County Road J that led to Dr. Nevara’s vet clinic, which was on the western outskirts of Broken Branch.
If it hadn’t been for Daniel, Will would have missed the black tires and chrome wheels of the car, flipped upside down in the ditch, nearly completely drifted over with snow.
The two men clambered from their vehicles, the ground knee-deep with snow in some areas and bare in others. Together, using their hands, they pushed the snow away from the driver’s side window of the upended car, in hopes of seeing inside. When they finally cleared an area big enough to see, Daniel pressed his face against the window, trying to shield the glare of the snow. “There’s a man inside,” Daniel confirmed, reaching for his cell phone. “He’s not moving.”
As Daniel tried to raise help, Will peered inside the car. The man was upside down, held in place by his seat belt. Blood dripped from his nose and one of his legs was dangling at an odd angle. Will tried to still his own labored breathing so he could focus on the man’s chest, hoping to determine if he was breathing. After a moment, he could discern the faint rise and fall of the man’s chest. He was alive.
“They want to know if he’s breathing,” Daniel shouted above the groan of the wind.
“He’s breathing,” Will confirmed. “He’s unconscious and looks like he has a broken leg.”
“They’ll be here as quickly as they can,” Daniel said once he disconnected. “They’re sending a wrecker from town and an ambulance from Conway. Do you recognize him?”
“No,” Will answered. “But it’s hard to tell. He’s in pretty bad shape. I hope they get here in time.”
Chapter 74:
Augie
I
see Beth disappear into the classroom and I try to imagine what it would feel like believing that your father could love you so much he would resort to kidnapping a classroom full of kids. Then I have another thought, one that leaves my stomach feeling sickish. Maybe it’s because Beth’s dad hates her mother so much. Maybe this was his way of getting back at her. Would he shoot his own daughters out of hate for his wife? You hear about that on television sometimes, the woman who smothers her six-year-old for being sassy or drowns her eight-month-old in the bathtub, or the dad who shoots his entire family and sets the house on fire.
My knees feel weak at the thought and for the first time all day I’m really scared. The kind of scared that begins as a knot in your chest and gets bigger and bigger until that’s all there is and there is no room left for air. The same kind of scared I felt the day of the fire. It’s the scared that comes from knowing how badly and how easily we can hurt another person.
I know that there is no way I can go into that classroom. I was stupid to think I could actually get P.J. out of there all by myself. The man with the gun probably wouldn’t let us leave, anyway. What would I say? “Excuse me, but it’s getting close to supper time and I need to get my little brother home.” He would probably laugh and tell me to sit down and shut up. Maybe even shoot me.
I figure the best way to help P.J. and everyone else in the classroom is to just sit down outside the door and wait and listen. Maybe I’ll hear something that could help the police. I tiptoe along the hall and crouch down in the little area beneath the drinking fountain, which is right next to P.J.’s classroom. I lean against the cold wall and pull my knees up to my chin and try to make myself as small as possible. Hopefully the man doesn’t get thirsty and come out and find me sitting here.
Chapter 75:
Mrs. Oliver
I
t’s not the pounding, throbbing
pain in her jaw that awakened Mrs. Oliver, though that certainly had a rousing
quality. It was the children and their welfare, as it always was, that brought
Mrs. Oliver out of the miasma of semiconsciousness and forced her to pull
herself up from the ground and into an empty desk. The man was most definitely
losing control—the way he grabbed Natalie Cragg’s sister, the way he had struck
her with the gun—Mrs. Oliver couldn’t leave the students alone with him. She was
vaguely aware of a wet warmth trickling along her check and down the length of
her neck. She tentatively touched the side of her face and wasn’t surprised to
find that when she pulled her fingers away they were coated with blood. “I’m
okay,” she tried to tell the children, but her jaw seemed unhinged somehow and
all that tumbled from her mouth was an optimistic sounding but garbled jumble.
She looked around for something with which to wipe her fingers, sticky with
blood, and settled dejectedly upon her denim jumper. Through the one eye that
wasn’t swollen shut, Mrs. Oliver found that her students, along with Beth Cragg,
were all staring at her in alarm and she gave them a lopsided smile and a
thumbs-up. The man looked at her with a mix of irritation and admiration. He
must have thought she was no longer any threat to him, because he left her where
she sat and pressed his phone to his ear. Mrs. Oliver concentrated on staying
upright and her abruptly ended phone conversation with Cal. He would most
assuredly contact the police with what he heard. Any moment now they would burst
through the classroom door, or a bullet sent by a trained sniper expressly for
the man would shatter the window and pierce his forehead.
She would be transported to the hospital, but not until all the
students were safely reunited with their families. Cal would be there to meet
her. He would lean low over the hospital bed and smile down upon her and tell
her that she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Just as he had done
so many years earlier after she had given birth. With one hand Cal held her
swollen fingers and in the nook of his other arm was George’s baby.
To her surprise, Mrs. Ford encouraged the brief courtship
between Evelyn and Cal. “Evelyn,” she said shortly after the disastrous dinner
when Evelyn had retreated to her room, “you know there’s nothing wrong with
being happy.”
“What do you mean?” Evelyn asked.
“George would want you to be happy.” Mrs. Ford’s chin trembled
with emotion. “He would want someone who is a good and kind man to help raise
his child.”
Evelyn rotated her head from side to side trying to shake the
thought away. It seemed too cruel, too soon. “Now, Evelyn,” Mrs. Ford gently
chided her. “It’s obvious to see that Cal Oliver is crazy about you. You are
young and you have a lifetime in front of you.”
“But I still love George,” Evelyn said in a small wounded
voice.
“Of course you do,” Mrs. Ford said, wrapping an arm around her
daughter-in-law. “And you always will. That’s the wonderful thing about the
human heart, there’s room enough for all kinds of love.”
Evelyn couldn’t answer, couldn’t explain how she still felt
devoted to George but how an electrical spark of joy would course through her
veins at the sight of Cal.
“Promise me one thing, Evelyn,” Mrs. Ford asked gently. Evelyn
nodded and sniffed. “Please tell the baby all about George. Tell him…or her,”
Mrs. Ford amended, “that his father was a sweet boy who loved numbers and
Coca-Cola. That he was smart and a little bit silly. That he died in a faraway
place because it was the right thing to do.” Evelyn could feel the top of her
head become damp with Mrs. Ford’s tears and she clutched more tightly to the
older woman’s hands.
“I will tell him,” Evelyn said, because she was sure that the
child she was carrying was a boy. “I will tell him and you will, too.”
Evelyn and Cal were married just a few weeks after she gave
birth to Georgiana Elizabeth Ford. She was surprised when the doctor had told
her she had given birth to a healthy baby girl, but that was quickly replaced
with a deep-seated gratitude. Amazing, really, how this tiny pink-faced being
came into this world less than a year after her father left it.
What a gift,
Evelyn kept saying to herself. And as if
reading her mind, Cal looked down at both of them and then upward. “I’ll take
good care of them,” he whispered. “I promise.”