Pastor's Assignment (2 page)

Three

Laney opened the door to Animal Ark. Before she had stepped fully inside her pet store, a tricolored papillon jumped out of his basket. Like an airplane roaring down a runway, the seven-pound dog gained speed with every step and launched himself into Laney's arms as she knelt to catch him.

“Don't look so happy,” Laney warned. “My meeting didn't go so well.”

Angel's tongue washed her face, hands, and ears until, smiling, Laney stood. As always, just being in her store soothed her nerves. She moved about the shop, petting the guinea pigs, talking to the parakeets, and watching the goldfish swarm the front of their tank at her approach. All animals, she believed, had the ability to recognize and give love.

Walking over to the reptile cages, she looked at the corn snake's back then frowned at the pair of lovebirds perched above.

Reaching into the glass tank, Laney carefully picked up the snake and carried it to the supply room.

Intending to wash the snake clean, Laney leaned over the sink and reached for the handle. It stuck. As Laney wrestled with the handle, the snake dropped off her neck and disappeared down the open drain.

In reflex she jammed her hand down the drain and grabbed for the snake. To her relief, her fingers closed over the snake's smooth, dry skin. Closing her eyes, she gave silent thanks and shifted her grip.

She opened her eyes and tugged gently on the snake. The snake didn't budge. She tugged again, a little harder, but couldn't lift it. Evidently the three-foot-long corn snake had instinctively curled in fear, and no matter how soothingly she talked, it wouldn't budge. She was simply going to have to wait for the snake to relax enough for her to get it through the drain.

To pass the time, she thought about Rock and the lovely afternoon they had spent wandering the famous Katherine Whiteman Botanical Gardens. They had picnicked beside a pond filled with lily pads and koi that nibbled at the surface. Rock had held her hand, and they had fantasized about their wedding day. She couldn't wait to marry him. Couldn't wait to share her life with someone who loved her as much he did. It was all she had ever wanted, she thought, to be loved. She hoped he hadn't been up all night scratching the massive mosquito bites he'd gotten.

The jingle of the bell on the store door broke Laney's thoughts, and she cried out, “In the back!”

The even click of hard soles on the tile floors told her that her visitor was large, most likely a man. Her heart leapt at the thought that Rock had come to see her, that somehow he had known she needed him.

“Miss Varner?”

Laney's joy turned to shock and disbelief. The voice sounded as if it belonged to Detective Ty Steele, but she dismissed the thought.

“Miss Varner?” the deep voice repeated.

Laney groaned and pulled her arm gently. The snake didn't budge. When she had imagined herself saving someone from terrible grief, it wasn't while clutching a frightened corn snake curled up in her drain.

“Detective Steele?” Laney called. She twisted to face the front of the room. “I'm in the back.”

Seconds later the detective's broad shoulders turned sideways as he squeezed his way through the overcrowded supply room.

Angel growled and stationed himself at Laney's feet. Ty took one look at the dog and said, “That's not a dog. It's an ankle biter.”

He might have been telling Angel he'd just been awarded fifty pounds of top sirloin by the way the papillon reacted. The dog's tail wagged frantically, and he all but crawled on his belly across the floor to collapse joyfully on top of Ty's shoes.

Great watchdog,
Laney thought, mystified by the dog's show of adoration. The only thing he'd ever shown Rock was a set of fangs—small but impressively sharp.

“You came sooner than I thought you would,” Laney said, trying to sound as if this were a good thing. “I'm glad you changed your mind.”

“I didn't change my mind,” Ty corrected. “I came to get the note.”

“First, let's talk about it,” Laney said, shifting her grip on the snake.

Ty stepped closer, frowning down at her. “I didn't write that note, but I know who did.” His mouth curved into a smile that was not one of happiness. “Your father put you up to this, didn't he?”

Laney's chin lifted, and she tightened her grip on the snake. “My father has nothing to do with this,” she said with as much dignity as she could manage with her arm down the drain. “All I want to do is help you.”

“Give me the note,” Ty said. “I'd like to examine it.”

“More likely destroy it,” Laney said. “And I can't let that happen. Giving you back that note without talking to you would be like passing a bleeding pedestrian by the side of a highway.”

Ty made a sound of disgust. “The way you drive, the pedestrian would be lucky if you didn't run him down.”

Laney raised her chin. “You can laugh, but the truth isn't funny.”

Ty's eyebrows arched as he seemed to consider her words. Stepping forward, he looked down at her arm. “The truth is your arm is stuck, isn't it?”

It wasn't the truth she had been implying, and Laney fought the deflated feeling that spread through her. “Sort of.”

“Want me to get your arm out?”

Laney rearranged her position against the sink. She tried to look nonchalant. “It all depends on how squeamish you are.” She met his gaze. “I have a snake in my hand.”

Ty snorted. “Sure you do.”

“I don't lie,” Laney declared.

Moving closer to Laney, Ty leaned over and examined her stuck arm. Shifting her weight under his intense scrutiny, Laney strove to appear calm and in control, although she felt anything but that.

He was tall and muscular and seemed to loom over her. Of course he might not have seemed so imposing if she weren't slightly bent over and holding on to the corn snake. It didn't help either that Angel had chosen to station himself fondly at the detective's feet.

Ty rolled up his shirtsleeves. He put his hand around her arm and pulled gently. When this didn't work, he tried to slip his finger into the drain. There wasn't much room, and his effort tickled Laney.

“What's so funny?” Ty asked, still trying to wiggle his finger deeper into the drain.

“You're tickling me,” Laney said. “I'm going to drop this snake if you don't stop that.”

“Pull your arm up,” Ty said, still struggling to get a grip on her wrist.

Laney raised her arm a fraction. She could tell the exact instant Ty's hand went from her arm to the snake. The shock that went through his strong body was so extremely satisfying that she laughed again.

Ty jerked his hand out of the sink. “Is this a setup?” He looked around in anger.

Laney gave an exasperated cry. “You're the most paranoid person I have ever met. You think I deliberately put a snake in the drain in the hopes that you would come to the store and I could frighten you with it?”

Ty wiped his hand on the leg of his pants. “For all I know, you could have been stalking me for weeks, trying to come up with something you could use against me.” He crossed his arms on his chest. “I'm pulling ahead in the polls, and your father can't handle it.”

“My father is going to beat you just as he's beaten every other opponent for the past eight years,” Laney declared. She blew a lock of hair out of her eyes. “Believe me, he isn't worried.”

“Oh, he's worried,” Ty argued. “I'd say worried enough to resort to anything—forge a note; send me on a wild goose chase.”

Laney tried to throw her shoulders back and appear beyond reproach. Instead, a finger's width of hair returned to its spot over her right eye. “Meeting you by the pond was no accident. I want to help you, but you have to have faith in me.”

“Faith in you?” Ty asked. “G. C.'s daughter?”

Wounded, Laney turned her head to meet Ty's cool glare. “Just go away if you're going to stand there accusing me of espionage.”

He muttered what might have been a concession then moved closer and peered down at the drain. “It's not a poisonous snake, is it?”

“It's a corn snake, completely harmless.” Honesty compelled her to add, “Well, occasionally she does bite.”

Ty grunted but reached into the sink again. Even with only two fingers touching her, Laney sensed his strength. If he wanted to, he could probably pull the entire plumbing out of the bottom of the sink.

“Please stop,” she said. “You're going to make me drop her.”

The pressure on Laney's arm stopped immediately. “Maybe we should turn the water on,” Ty said. “Make it slippery.”

“You'll drown her,” Laney said, horrified. “How would you feel if you were stuck in a drain with water pounding over your head?”

Ty sighed. “I'd feel like a wet snake.”

“That's helpful,” Laney said. “Really helpful.”

“Well, then, how do you feel about your snake free-falling through the pipe and out the drain?”

“Better than drowning her.”

Ty knelt to examine the lower part of the sink. “You have a wrench?”

“On the shelf under the aquarium gravel,” Laney instructed.

Minutes later Ty had the drain open. “Let her rip.”

Laney dropped the snake and straightened with a groan of relief. She rubbed her aching shoulder and peered down at Ty. “Do you have her?”

“Just a second.”

“Don't pull her too hard,” Laney warned.

Ty reached into the drain. When the snake still wouldn't come out, he tapped the pipe gently with his other hand. “This isn't working,” he said and forced his hand deeper into the plastic tube. He grunted, twisted, and grunted again. A moment later, when his hand emerged, an orange colored snake dangled from his fingers. “I believe this belongs to you,” he said.

There was a moment of silence between them as Laney took the snake from his hands. “Thanks, Detective Steele,” Laney said at last. She looked at him awkwardly, finding it ironic she had sought to help him, but he had rescued her instead.

“I want to see that note,” he said at last.

“Why?”

“I want to have it analyzed. Run the prints. Prove who is setting me up.”

Laney rolled her eyes. “This is getting silly,” she said. “You and I both know you wrote that note. If I give it back to you, you'll only destroy it. You need help, Ty. Let me help you.”

“I want the note,” Ty demanded.

“I'll give you back your letter if you agree to counseling sessions with Pastor Bruce.”

“That'll never happen, even if—”

The bell to the store jingled, interrupting Ty. For a moment they both froze.

“Laney? Are you back there?”

It was Rock. Her heart began skipping beats. How was she going to explain Ty Steele's presence?

She nearly dropped the snake back down the drain. “It's Rock, my fiancé,” she whispered to Ty. Her hands went icy cold as her cheeks blazed with heat.

Ty's face stiffened. “Is he part of this setup?”

“There is no setup,” Laney whispered. “You have to stop being so paranoid.”

“I will when you give me the note.”

The footsteps clicked nearer. “Laney? Are you here?”

“I'm in the back,” Laney called.

“I'm getting out of here,” Ty said.

“Don't leave,” Laney pleaded. “Not until we've had a chance to talk some more.”

“You want to talk more?” Ty stepped toward the back door. “Meet me at Miguel's restaurant on Friday night at seven o'clock. Bring the note.”

Laney wanted to help Ty, but she didn't think meeting him at a restaurant was a good idea, either. She opened her mouth to protest, but he was already halfway out of the store. The door closed behind him so softly she wasn't sure he was gone.

“What are you doing back here, honey?” Rock looked at the corn snake in her hand and the tools on the floor.

“Trying to help a friend,” Laney said.

“With a snake?” Rock laughed.

She realized the corn snake was still in her hands. “Yes, well, things didn't quite work out the way I planned.”

“With you, Laney, they never do.” Rock smiled good-naturedly. He pointed to the sink. “Do we need to call a plumber?”

“Nope,” Laney replied. “She's out.”

“She's out?” Rock repeated. “You mean she's out, as in the clog is out of the sink?”

“Nope.” Laney ignored the hopeful note in his voice. “I mean the snake is out of the drain. She—”

Rock held up his hands. “I don't want to hear it. Laney, you've got to be more careful.” Rock hated whenever any of her animals got loose. “Can you imagine what would have happened if that snake had popped up in someone's bathroom?”

“I don't even want to think about that happening.”

Rock nodded. “After we get married, maybe you should stick to selling cute, furry things, like kittens.”

Laney knew he'd calm down if she could make him laugh. “But then I wouldn't have a snake if I got a clog in my drain.”

Rock chuckled but stepped backward as the snake stretched in his direction. “Silly girl,” he said, “don't you know the snake a plumber uses is a tool, not a real snake?”

Laney batted her eyelashes in the way Rock liked. Of course she knew that. “Well,” she said, “in my opinion the real thing would work just as well.” She walked out of the room to the sound of Rock's booming laugh as if her simplicity charmed him beyond belief.

Four

Three days later, Laney drove into the parking lot of Miguel's, an Italian restaurant located in a new strip mall. The entire mall had a Middle Eastern flare. The buildings, bleached white, loomed large and exotic with gold-domed roofs and rounded pillars that pointed torchlike to the sky.

As Laney pulled into the parking lot, she marveled at the sight of stores like Payless Shoes and Compass Bank looking unfamiliar and self-conscious as if they had been caught playing dress-up.

Wanting to protect Rock from any gossip, Laney had briefly considered disguising herself in a sari. But she'd pictured only too well catching the hem in the front door and the subsequent unraveling of the garment.

In the end, she opted for a different sort of disguise. A search through her closet revealed black karate pants and a black knit top. She'd added two inches to her height with a pair of black, chunky sandals. A French braid controlled her long hair, and a large pair of her brother's sunglasses eclipsed her face. When she had walked into her kitchen, Angel had barked from his basket, thus confirming her disguise.

Still, she paused in the parking lot, scanning the cars with the caution of a secret agent preparing to make a drop. She had no need to be nervous, she told herself; she would slip through the parking lot rendered invisible by the virtue of her mission.

The anonymity effect was ruined when she saw the detective standing by the front door to the restaurant. She met his gaze, and her heart beat faster, more than when she simply got nervous.

Please be with me, Lord. Here we go.
Laney slammed her car door and stepped forward. A sharp tug nearly jerked her off her feet, and she realized the strap to her purse had caught in the car door.

Embarrassed, she glanced around. The only eyes that seemed interested, however, were Ty Steele's. Their gazes locked a second time. Her stomach clenched, and her heart knocked against her ribs as if thrown there by force.

Searching for courage to see this secret mission through, Laney walked toward him. Her doubts grew as she neared him. He didn't look like a man who had suffered an inconsolable loss or who needed a woman to listen to him or had ever in his life contemplated suicide.

Instead, he resembled a casually dressed action figure at the toy store. It was all too easy to imagine him gripping the steering wheel during a high-speed chase or vaulting chain-link fences in pursuit of criminals or throwing a thug against a wall as he read him his rights.

For a moment, panic filled her at the thought that somehow she was supposed to help this man. She, who had always attracted disaster as successfully as a tall pole drew lightning, somehow had to find the right words to save this poor, unhappy man from himself.

Okay, Lord,
Laney prayed.
We both know James Bond I'm not. I can't do this on my own. If I'm supposed to reach out to this person, You'll have to do it through me, because I surely can't do it on my own.

She pushed the large dark glasses further up her nose and squared her shoulders, trying not to notice that Ty appeared slightly fierce, as if he were determined to dislike her.

Laney greeted him with a smile, which he did not return.

“Let's go inside,” he said.

He opened the door for her, and they stepped inside the restaurant. The combination of her sunglasses and the darkness of the restaurant nearly blinded her. A blast of air-conditioning immediately penetrated her black knit top, adding to her discomfort. It didn't help when Ty's hand touched her arm and guided her forward. His hand on her arm felt unfamiliar. She jerked away.

Rock might not be perfect, but he loved her perfectly. Not a day went by when he didn't call her at least three times to remind her of his undying affection. Just the other day he had volunteered to join the greeters' ministry at church. She had been overwhelmed by his willingness to serve others. His humility made him all the more attractive to her.

The hostess, a young Italian woman wearing black silk, led them to the dining area where about twenty round tables sat covered with crisp white tablecloths. She pointed to a table for two flanked by two large palms.

Ty pulled out the seat for Laney, who was in the process of scanning the room for anyone she knew. To her relief, she didn't recognize anyone, although it was hard to tell with the dark glasses.

“Well, here we are,” Laney said, settling into the hard-backed wooden chair.

“I think you can take the sunglasses off now,” Ty said dryly. His eyes mocked her. “In a minute you'll have a menu to hide behind.”

Laney removed the glasses and sat taller in the seat. “It doesn't matter to me who sees us.”

It shouldn't matter, but it did, and she knew it. “Anyway,” Laney added, “what's important is for us to trust each other.”

Their waitress appeared. “Can I get you something to drink?”

Ty looked at Laney. “What will you have?”

“An iced tea, please.”

“I'll have the same.”

As soon as the waitress left, Ty said, “Let's get this over with. Give me the note.”

“In a minute.” She shifted in her seat. “As long as we're here, we might as well get to know each other better.”

A sound that might have been laughter came from Ty. “Right,” he said. “I'm sure we'll be best friends.” He leaned forward. “Let's cut to the chase. Are you planning to blackmail me?”

Laney pulled back so hard the chair tilted at an alarming angle. “Blackmail?” She bit her upper lip nervously. “Oh, no.” She shook her head. “I can't believe you thought that.”

“If you are,” Ty said, “you can forget it. I didn't write that note, and I'm not paying you a cent for it.” His lower jaw moved forward and locked in a position that dared Laney to take a swing at him, verbal or otherwise.

Laney shook her head. “If I gave it to you, you'd probably tear it up.” She looked at him knowingly. “Tell me about the man in your note.” Her brow wrinkled. “You mentioned your brother.”

Ty scraped his chair back from the table. His eyes narrowed to razor-sharp slits. “Tell me you haven't been snooping in my personnel file.” He raked his hand impatiently
through his hair, leaving a small row of hair upright. “If that
isn't proof your father is behind all this, I don't know what is.”

“You think my father wrote this note and dropped it onto the floor at church knowing I would be the one to find it and decide to help you?” Laney's brows pushed together. “You are so paranoid.”

Ty snorted. “Eventually you'll admit you've been spying on me.”

“Spying on you?” Laney shook her head. “Cash registers run out of tape, streetlights fizzle, and traffic lanes close in my path. You think my father would send me to spy on you?”

This information seemed to give Ty pause. “I think he would send his mother if he could dig up some dirt on me.” A flicker of satisfaction crossed his face. “He's down ten points in the polls.”

“You don't want my grandmother on your case,” Laney warned and shook her head. “She has a black belt and a temper. She once karate-chopped the kitchen table in half when my brother Richard wouldn't eat his spaghetti.” She paused. “But don't worry—she lives in Kentucky.”

For a moment Ty's face went blank. Then, as Laney looked more closely, she saw a slight twitch in his cheek and a tremor run through his mouth. He was trying not to smile. A tremendous sense of victory shot through her. If she could make this large, stern man laugh, she could make him talk. If he talked, she was certain she could guide him out of his depression.

“I suppose you have a black belt, as well,” he said at last.

Laney nodded, encouraged by the softening of his expression. “Before she moved to Kentucky, Grammie babysat quite a bit.” She toyed with her napkin and hesitated. “My mother died when I was six.”

“Charming,” Ty drawled. “A little Ninja. The killing instinct was honed since age six.”

She looked up, surprised at his sarcastic tone. She hadn't expected this reaction, and it stung. “You're not the only one who's suffered a loss.” What had she been thinking to share something personal with him? She might as well have stuck her hand into a lion's cage.

She let the silence fall between them as she tried to pretend he hadn't hurt her feelings.

“I'm sorry,” Ty said. “Sorry about your mother.”

Laney looked up to find him studying her. It might have been the lighting in the restaurant, but she was certain she saw genuine regret in his eyes.

Laney's heart softened toward him. Whatever his faults were, he'd seen in a glance that he'd hurt her.

“It's okay,” she said. “You're safe from my killing instincts. I haven't bumped anyone off since I was nine years old and broke Ken's neck.”

Ty's expression stiffened. Laney shook her head. “Ken, as in Barbie and Ken. Dolls.” She smiled. “When your father is in law enforcement and he raises you, you play dolls a little differently. I'm probably the only girl in Texas whose Barbie recited Miranda rights, handcuffed, then hauled Ken off to jail when he didn't behave.”

The waitress returned with their drinks and set them silently on the table. She turned to Ty. “Are you ready to order?”

Laney looked down at her menu, noticing the selections for the first time. “I'll have the pasta primavera.”

Ty's eyes scanned the menu. “Spaghetti and meatballs.”

When the waitress left, Laney said ever so casually, “Did you play GI Joe with your brother?”

The last remnants of the smile he'd given the waitress faded from his face, leaving his features harsh. She could almost see him draw away from her without moving an inch. “As if you didn't know.”

“Know what?”

Ty leaned forward until Laney could see the flecks of gold in his brown eyes. “Just do me a favor when you're playing your election games—leave my brother out of it.”

Laney jumped on his words. “I'm not playing games.”

“Stop the concerned look, and tell your father you need acting lessons if you're going to be believable.”

Laney decided to ignore the comment. She thought hard about the words in the note. He looked at her as if he hated her. This was fine with Laney. At least he was talking. “Something inside you is making you unhappy.” She took a deep breath. “You need to let it out. Isn't that why we're here?”

“In one word,” Ty stated flatly, “no.” His mouth twisted. “I came here to figure out what damage you can do to my campaign.”

Laney gritted her teeth. “This isn't about the election. Tell me about your brother.” She calmed her voice and tried to think of an appropriate bribe. “I'll give you the note after you tell me about him.”

She thought he would refuse. He appeared angry enough to pick her up, chair and all, and carry her out of the restaurant. Yet something deep in his eyes beyond the anger made her hold her ground. It was a flash of a bleakness of spirit, a glimpse of loneliness and vulnerability. The look vanished almost instantly, and she would have missed it altogether if it hadn't been so familiar. It was a look she'd seen in the mirror hundreds of times and banished a hundred times.

Her heart gave a tug of sympathy. “Please,” she said. “I want to know.”

His hands lay on the table, his knuckles rising in huge balls of bone that seemed both capable of inflicting damage and swollen, as if they themselves hurt.

When he lifted his gaze, his eyes held a trace of defiance. She met his eyes and deliberately put her hands palm up on the table.

“His name was Mickey.” He looked up at her, but it was clear his mind was somewhere else. “He died three years ago.”

“How?”

“A school shooting. He saved a group of kids in the path of gunfire.”

Without thinking, Laney reached across the table and covered Ty's fists with her hands. In less than a second, her fingers were comforting the tablecloth. Ty scowled at her, as if she'd tried to stab his hand with the butter knife. Covertly her fingers ran over her fingernails to test their points. The blunt tips reassured her she hadn't inadvertently jabbed him.

“I'm sorry about your brother,” she said.

Ty's eyes darkened. An odd light burned in them, as if he were about to play a trump card. “Can you explain why your God would let that happen to someone?”

Laney shook her head sadly. “No, but I do know He has a purpose for all of us and a plan for our lives.” She leaned closer to him. “You have to trust Him.”

Ty made a sound of disgust. “I'd prefer less mystery and a little clearer sign.”

“A sign?” Laney laughed. “Have you ever spent time with Him? He speaks to hearts. What do you want Him to do, beep you?”

As the words left her mouth, Ty's beeper went off. Laughing in surprise, Laney watched him try to cover up his shock as he dug the beeper out of his jeans to check the message.

“There's your sign.” Laney couldn't keep the smile off her face.

He checked the number on the pager. “I have to make a phone call,” he said. “Be right back.”

Laney chuckled, for the first time realizing she had been right to come to the restaurant. She envisioned herself gently leading Ty back to the path of happiness, mending his broken heart. Perhaps they would even be friends. She would be the sister he'd never had.

She closed her eyes and leaned back in her seat, soaking up the moment.
Lord, the credit is Yours.
Even if Ty said nothing else the entire evening, the meeting would be a success. With God's help, he would soon be surrounded by the love of God and his church family.

When she opened her eyes, Laney saw a tall, thin woman in a light-blue silk pantsuit entering the room on the arm of slightly bald man. Even in the dim lighting and from a distance, Laney recognized the woman. Her heart exploded into her chest as Tilly Weyeth, her future mother-in-law, paused. Tilly's long nose pointed as accurately as a compass in Laney's direction.