Pastor's Assignment (11 page)

Twenty-two

“I'm sorry,” the receptionist in the front office said when Laney and Ty stopped to register in the front office, “but no dogs are allowed. It's a school policy.”

Ty whipped out his badge. “That's no dog,” he growled. “That's a canine officer.”

The woman adjusted her glasses higher on her nose. “I've never seen a German shepherd that looked like that. In fact, I've never seen a dog with such big ears.”

“It's a papillon,” Laney said.

“Just give us our passes, please,” Ty said. He shifted his weight. All his senses were screaming to hurry, and this woman looked as if she were prepared to spend the afternoon questioning them.

“I'll need your identification,” the woman said, still starring at Angel and making no move to register them. “All of you.”

Laney pulled out her driver's license. Ty handed her his badge. Wiping the sweat off his forehead, he hoped she wouldn't demand to see Angel's identification.

Finally a machine printed off two self-adhesive badges. Ty ripped them off the machine and headed for the door.

With Laney close on his heels, Ty climbed the stairs two at a time to the second floor. Bursting into the hallway, he passed students crowding the corridor. Lockers slammed, and laughter echoed through the halls. Boys in baggy jeans shoved each other playfully, and girls with hip-hugging jeans looked at Ty curiously. Ty hoped they were in time.

As they neared the locker, he stopped and signaled Laney to be quiet. The door of the locker swung wide open as a tall, skinny boy of about sixteen peered into its depths. Ty grabbed Laney's hand and pulled her into the recess of a nearby classroom door.

“What are you doing?” she whispered. Her fingers tightened around Angel.

“Just watch,” Ty whispered back.

Moments later the boy finished loading his backpack. He slammed the locker door shut and turned toward the stairwell.

As the boy passed them, Ty pressed Laney behind him to hide Angel.

“Did you see what's in his hand?” Laney whispered to Ty. “It's the same lunch bag we saw last week.”

“I see it,” Ty said.

“Shouldn't we stop him?”

Ty shook his head. “Not yet.” He silenced the next question on her lips with a glance.

They heard the noise from the cafeteria before they saw the large, rectangular room. The roar of voices talking and laughing was ordinary and reassuring. The smell of fried food that wafted through the air suggested that cheeseburgers and onion rings, not violence and shooting, were on the menu.

Laney and Ty paused at the entrance to the cafeteria and scanned the room. Hundreds of students crowded around portable gray tables. Others passed slowly through cafeteria lines.

Floor to ceiling windows on the far side of the room opened into an outdoor courtyard area and provided a view of the surrounding pine forest.

Laney touched Ty's arm. “He's sitting down,” she said, “all by himself.”

Ty nodded and led Laney to the table across from the boy. Apparently oblivious to them, the boy sat at the table staring at the brown paper bag in front of him. His long, thin face held little color or expression.

“Aren't you going to do anything?” Laney looked at Ty. “Shouldn't you question him or something?”

“Just wait,” Ty said.

“What if he's waiting for the cafeteria to fill up before he starts shooting?”

“What if he's just some kid who wants to eat his lunch in peace and quiet?”

“What about the corn chips? We should let Angel sniff them.”

The boy had placed a large, wrapped sandwich, a can of soda, and the family-sized bag of chips on the table.

“Just wait,” Ty repeated.

“Do something.”

Ty frowned. “Like what? Tell him to put down the bag of chips or I'll shoot?”

“Of course not.” Laney rolled her eyes. “Confiscate his lunch.”

Ty frowned. “Sure. I'll tell him I'm the nutrition police.”

“He isn't eating,” Laney pointed out. “Surely there's something suspicious about that.”

“Most teenagers don't,” Ty said.

“Tell me why he's just staring blankly at the bag of chips.”

Ty ran his hands through his hair. He checked his watch.

“You've got to do something,” Laney insisted. “Look at his eyes. Something's wrong.” She rose to her feet. “I'll just stroll over there and let him pet Angel. If Angel gets within six inches of that bag, we'll know for sure.”

There was no way Ty was going to let Laney near the boy until he was certain it was safe. As she started to rise, Ty placed his hand on her arm. “Start praying for that kid if you want to help.” By giving her a job, he hoped to keep her away from the boy until he understood the situation more completely.

“Okay,” Laney replied.

Ty studied the boy. Sure, the kid was gawky. He'd been a bit like that himself at sixteen. He clearly remembered Mickey's razzing him for the size of his hands hanging off long, skinny arms. None of his parts had seemed to fit, and the mirror told him this most eloquently of all. Yet all kids went through this phase. And if the boy was alone, that wasn't necessarily a warning signal either.

His eyes moved over the boy and came to rest on the boy's hands. The kid's wrist bone was as awkward and protruding as his had been. The bone looked as if everything would catch on it. He wondered if anybody had ever told the boy he would grow into his bones as his brother had done for him.

As if sensing his scrutiny, the boy moved his arm. The sleeve slid back and revealed a drawing scribbled in blue ink. Ty's heart accelerated as he saw the same drawing of a bullet as the one he'd seen in the dirt.
Okay, Lord—please be with me. Here we go.

Jumping to his feet, Ty moved in front of the boy. After a long moment of deliberate avoidance, the boy acknowledged Ty's presence. “What?”

Ty flipped his police identification onto the table. “Hand over the corn chips, kid.”

The boy sneered as if Ty had insulted him. “You're joking, right?”

“It's not a joke,” Ty stated.

“No way.”

“I need to see your lunch.” Ty kept his voice pleasant.

In response the boy pulled the corn chip bag to his chest.

“I just want to see what's in the bag,” Ty said. “I want to help you.”

“I don't need your help.” The boy's gaze slid past Ty.

Ty's eyes narrowed. “I think you do.”

The boy made a sound that could have been laughter. “You can't confiscate my chips.”

“Why do you have a bullet tattooed on your wrist? Why did you leave that drawing on the ground?” Ty extended his hand slowly. “I just want to help.”

The boy shrugged. “Then leave me alone.”

“I will if you'll hand over the chips,” Ty said, aware of how absurd it all sounded.

“What? And nobody gets hurt?”

Ty's head swung around at the voice and saw Rock Weyeth. The district attorney grinned widely at the surprise Ty worked hard to conceal. Behind Rock, Laney shook her head in obvious disbelief.

“What are you doing here?”

Rock grinned. “I followed you.” He raised his eyebrows. “Really, Steele, I always knew you were a bully, but stealing a boy's lunch is a bit much. Even for you.”

“Who's he?” the boy asked.

“Rock Weyeth.” Rock's shoulders straightened visibly. “I'm the district attorney. Do you want to press charges for harassment?”

A bead of perspiration appeared on the end of the boy's nose and hung on, defying gravity.

Ty inched closer to the boy. “I'm on your side, kid.”

“You don't have to give him your lunch.” Rock circled his ear with his finger. “This guy is officially looney.” He tugged Ty's arm. “Come on, Steele. You've caused enough trouble.”

Ty shrugged him off. “You don't know what you're getting into here, Weyeth.”

Rock gave a long-suffering sigh. “I know exactly what's going on here.” His blue eyes rolled to the heavens. “You're trying to make a big deal over nothing. It's a last-ditch effort to clinch the election.”

“And you're just here to make trouble for Ty.” Laney stepped closer to the table.

The boy shifted in his seat with his arms around the bag of corn chips. “I'm the one leaving.”

“First hand over the chips,” Ty added, feeling more foolish than he could ever remember.

“Making him hand over his chips is a violation of his civil rights,” Rock declared. “There's no just cause to search his lunch.”

“Shut up, Weyeth,” Ty said.

“Oh, dear,” Laney said. She released Angel. “Fetch!” she cried.

The small dog leaped the table in a furry blur, pulled the bag of chips from the boy, and returned it to Laney.

Rock grinned. “I guess we can add assault charges to the list.”

Ignoring him, Laney stuck her hand into the bag. The unmistakable sound of corn chips filled Ty's ears. He saw his entire career flash before his eyes, and for a moment, he simply stopped breathing. And then Laney said, “Oh, no.”

Rock's smile widened. “ ‘Oh, no' as in there's a bag of chips here?”

Laney shook her head. “No. There's a gun in here.”

The color faded from Rock's cheeks. “There's a gun in the bag?”

The boy said, “I wasn't going to use it. I only wanted people to take me seriously.”

Rock reached for the bag. “You're joking, right?”

“I'm not joking,” Laney said.

“She doesn't joke,” Ty confirmed.

“Give me the bag,” Rock ordered. “It's evident the two of you have lost your minds.”

“Rock, stop it,” Laney warned as the district attorney wrestled for the bag.

“Just give me the chips, Laney,” Rock demanded.

He gave one long, hard pull. The bag ripped, sending corn chips, bullets, and a Colt .45 to the ground. The pistol clattered to the floor, and a single shot exploded through the cafeteria.

Rock fell facedown to the floor. When he turned, Laney saw a large red stain spreading across the front of his white button-down shirt. At the same time, water began to pour out of a hole in the ceiling.

Laney quickly lunged for the fallen gun as the boy struggled in Ty's grasp. Holding the gun in trembling hands, she looked down at Rock. “He's bleeding!” she cried.

“He's not hit,” Ty assured her. “He landed on a bottle of ketchup.”

Other students crowded around, drawn by the gunshot and the water pouring out of the ceiling. “It's okay,” Ty told everyone. “There's been an accident, but please return to your seats.”

Ty kept one arm on the boy, who kept his gaze trained on the ground. He had no fight in him, and Ty doubted he ever had. The boy probably had been teased beyond his endurance, and bringing the gun to school had been a way to show his manhood. In that moment, Ty resolved to find a way to help kids like him deal with the bullying and hazing that went on in every school.

For a moment, his gaze met Laney's. He saw compassion for the boy in her eyes and, as he held her gaze, something else. His heart beat faster, and he barely felt the water dripping over him as the rest of the sprinklers in the room turned on. Her eyes held all the promise of a candle burning in the window on the darkest of nights. It was a gaze welcoming home a man who had been gone for a long time. It was a look that could have lit up the emptiest, coldest house. Even his own. The look told him more eloquently than any words could express. For the first time in years, perhaps ever, he was home.

Twenty-three

Laney stood holding the gun as the sprinkler system rained down on them. Across the distance between them, she anchored herself in Ty Steele's gaze. She saw a strong man who cared for others more than himself, who had been willing to risk his professional reputation, even his life, to avoid a school shooting. Her heart opened up to him.

“Please keep back,” Ty ordered the crowd of students who pressed around them, more curious than afraid now that he clearly had the situation under control.

Did the students realize things might have ended a lot differently if not for Ty? Her hands shook, and she tightened her grip on the gun. Later she would let herself react to the scene; for now she would be strong for Ty.

She wasn't sure how much time had passed when she heard a familiar drawl.

“Get someone to turn off the main water switch,” her father ordered. “Where's Principal Henley? And someone get the fire department out here. Step aside, kids,” her father said. “Show's over.”

“Dad!” Laney called.

He pushed through the row of students. “Laney, are you okay?” He looked at the pistol in her hand, and she saw the color drain from his face. “What are you doing with a gun?” He reached for the weapon. “Just give it to me slowly.”

“It's okay, Dad.” Laney handed the pistol to him. “Ty has it all under control.”

Her father shook his head. “Then why is there a hole in the ceiling with the sprinkler system going full blast?”

“I can explain,” Laney said. “You see—”

“The gun went off accidentally,” Rock interrupted, “when I tried to take it away from Laney.”

Water dripped down the district attorney's face. One of his contacts had fallen from his eye, giving him two different-colored irises. His normally immaculate clothing hung dripping wet, and he had a large ketchup stain on his shirt.

“What happened to you?” her dad asked.

“I hit the ground when the gun went off,” Rock explained.

The older man cut him off with a slash of his hand. Turning to his daughter, he said, “You fired the gun?”

“Not exactly,” Laney tried to explain.

“Laney, tell me you didn't shoot down the sprinkler system,” her father said.

Laney saw the anger in her father's eyes. Under his intense scrutiny, something in her began to shrink. No matter what she said, he would see her as the source of the problem, not the solution.

She squared her shoulders and raised her chin. Her mouth formed a straight, tight line. If her father wanted to believe the worst about her, so be it.

“She didn't shoot down the sprinkler system,” Ty said, stepping forward. “Your daughter disarmed a disturbed student,” he explained. “And probably prevented a shooting. You'll get a full report on your desk by tomorrow morning.”

Laney's cheeks turned red. “Well, Angel should get most of the credit. We thought there were bullets in the bag. Neither of us guessed a gun was in there, too.”

Her father held up his hands. “I still don't understand how the gun went off.”

Rock coughed and stepped forward. “In the process of my assisting her, the gun fell from the bag of chips.”

“He ripped the bag open because he didn't believe there was a gun inside,” Ty explained. “It went off when it hit the ground.”

Her father's gaze went from Laney to Ty. “Do you realize someone might have been killed?” He pulled at his moustache. “Laney, if something had happened to you—” He didn't finish the sentence.

“Your daughter has a lot of courage and faith,” Ty added quietly.

“Laney?”

Something about the way he said her name made her turn to meet her father's gaze. For a moment, she saw something there she couldn't remember seeing in a very long time. Could it be he was actually proud of her?

“Nice job,” her father said. “You, too, Steele.”

“Thanks, Dad.” Laney stood a little straighter.

Her father worried the end of his moustache in a gesture that Laney recognized as extreme discomfort. She almost smiled. Apparently her father was as uncomfortable at giving praise as she was unaccustomed to receiving it.

“That doesn't mean I ever”—her dad paused for emphasis—“ever want you to get involved in police business again.” His hand dropped to his gun belt. “From now on, you stick to selling hamsters,” he added gruffly.

“Yes, sir,” Laney said and looked away from him. “One last thing—I want my poem back.”

Her father shook his head. “You'll have to get it from Thomas. He started to read your speech but got all choked up.” He lifted his gaze to the ceiling as the water finally stopped. “Glad somebody finally found the water valve.” He didn't look at Laney. “I'd like to hear your speech sometime, though.”

“Chief, what do you want me to do?” a policeman asked.

Her father frowned at the deputy. “Call in a bomb squad,” he instructed. “We're going to do a locker-to-locker check. I want every backpack looked into and every student searched for weapons.”

“Looks like someone heard you already,” Ty said. He pointed at a small, big-eared dog splashing its way through the room toward them. “Your firearms-sniffing dog is reporting for duty.” He grinned at Laney, who gave him the thumbs-up sign.

Laney watched Angel pause to scarf up a fallen hamburger floating on the water. Her father saw it, too. Although his Adam's apple bobbed furiously, he said nothing.

“Sir,” another deputy said, “we're ready to take the boy into custody.”

Her father cleared his throat, and the noise seemed to travel a great distance. “Okay,” he said. “Get Olveriz over here. He'll go with you.”

As the deputy led the boy away, her father began to fiddle with his moustache. “Would someone tell me why anyone would bring a gun to school? What did he think he was going to accomplish?”

Laney didn't like the flush that had appeared on her father's cheeks. “Dad, maybe you should take it easy—your heart—”

“It's not my heart that's the problem,” he said with his usual bluntness. He turned to Ty. “You were right. I should have listened to you.” He paused and extended his hand to Ty. “Congratulations. You're going to make a great sheriff, Steele.”