Authors: Creston Mapes
“Bundle up, girls.” Pamela eyed the Crafts Galore store right next door to Farley’s.
Granger could be working right now … literally within yards of you.
“Mommy, how long is this going to take?” Rebecca opened her door. “I’m starving.”
“Not long at all, peaches. MawMaw knows just what she’s looking for. Right, MawMaw?”
It was frigid outside. Pamela took Faye’s hand, and Margaret took Rebecca’s as they hurried through the parking lot toward the front door.
“Now, why would someone park there?” Margaret nodded toward a grimy old conversion van, covered in salt, parked and running at the curb off to the right of the entrance. The only clean part of the van was where the windshield wipers swiped periodically. “Smell that, for criminy sakes. Not only is he parked in a fire lane, but he’s trying to kill us with gas fumes.”
That was precisely the type of comment Pamela wished the girls didn’t have to hear—negative, negative, negative. Pamela had grown up with it. She didn’t comment but hurried them inside, out of the cold.
“Okay, where to, Mom? Let’s make this quick.”
“Well, at the one we have at home, the fabric is all the way in the back corner.”
“Let’s check it out.” Pamela continued to hold Faye’s hand and led the way through the bright store. She wanted to get this over with fast, get the pizza, and meet up with Jack.
In just seconds, Margaret and Rebecca were lagging way behind. Margaret could never just zip in and out of a store; she had to browse. Now she and Rebecca were lingering in the candle aisle.
“We’re going to keep going,” Pamela called. “Meet us back there. Don’t be long, Mom. We don’t have a lot of time.”
Margaret smiled and kept looking at the candles.
Pamela and Faye found the fabric section and asked a sales associate for help finding the material Margaret had in mind. Although a bit crabby and slow, the woman led them to a section with several dozen choices.
“Oh dear, Faye, I don’t know where to begin,” Pamela said.
“What’s this for again?” Faye said.
“MawMaw is going to make neat little curtains to go on those long windows on each side of the front door.”
“Oh. I like looking out those windows, Mommy. Will we be able to move the curtains and see out?”
“That’s a good question, honey. I’m not exactly sure how she plans to hang them.”
“Well, I like this one.” Faye fingered a swatch of sheer beige material.
“I like that too. Let’s run that one by MawMaw when she gets here. And how about this lacy one?”
Faye took the fabric, rubbed it on her cheek, then smelled it. “I like that one too.”
“Good. Let’s see if there are any more we really like, to show MawMaw.”
While they were looking over the cloth, Rebecca and MawMaw came around the corner, holding hands. Pamela showed them what she and Faye had found.
“This one is perfect,” Margaret said, pointing to the beige.
“I picked that one,” Faye said.
“It is exactly what I had in mind, Faye. You have an excellent eye for interior design.”
Margaret got the attendant busy cutting the fabric the size she wanted it.
“Mom,” Rebecca said, “did you get the poster board for my Clara Barton project?”
“No, I didn’t. Good girl to remember! You saved me a trip,” Pamela said. “Mom, let us go get that while you get the fabric. We’ll meet you up front.”
It took Pamela and the girls a few minutes to track down the poster board. Then, of course, Rebecca had to decide which color she wanted. She ended up choosing light green. They made it to the spacious area at the front of the store. There was a line of cash registers and quite a few people checking out, especially for such a chilly weeknight.
Pamela glanced around. “Girls, do you see MawMaw anywhere?”
Rebecca and Faye looked.
“Maybe she’s not up here yet,” Pamela said. “I supposed we could just get in line.”
“Oh, there she is. Row number six,” Rebecca said.
Pamela spotted her. “Excellent. Let’s go get in line.”
The next step she took, Pamela froze; the girls bumped into her.
It was Granger. In the line next to Margaret’s. Checking out.
She immediately looked down, turned away, her back to him, and put her arms around the girls. He was about forty or fifty feet away.
“What are we doing, Mommy?” Faye said.
Good question.
Pamela wanted to race to the car, but what about Margaret? Would she notice Granger?
“Let’s just stand here another second.” Pamela’s voice broke.
Would the girls recognize him? She turned them so they were all facing the opposite side of the store.
“Mom, why are we standing out here in the middle of the store?” Rebecca said. “Let’s check out.”
Pamela had begun to tremble. She ran a hand through her hair. What to do?
She took another peek back. Granger was still in line. He hadn’t seen them.
Good. Okay, just be calm, for the girls …
* * *
It had gotten dark early and was one of those crystal-clear, arctic winter evenings. The roads appeared free of ice. Jack drove toward home at a good clip, drumming the steering wheel, forcing himself to try to relax his neck and shoulders, which were tight as a drum.
Whenever Jack faced trying circumstances, as he was in now, he got the unmistakable notion he needed to have a clear conscience before God. And right now he knew he did not, and would not, until he forgave Granger Meade. It was something he needed to do, in person. It could be short and sweet, but it was time. Pam would be relieved to hear it.
Jack hated postponing their date, but that had become the least of his concerns. Something about speaking with Officer DeVry had made the severity of the situation chillingly real. And now that they had learned Spivey was dead, Jack knew the police would be all over Demler-Vargus. It was only a matter of time.
Getting a hotel room would seem drastic, but Jack had the distinct impression he needed to get the family away from the house, at least for the night. There was no way he was going to risk putting them through any more distress. Once again he thought about calling Pam to explain things and give her a heads-up, but this was way too explosive to discuss over the phone; he wanted to do it face-to-face.
He wondered what was going on with Derrick and Amy. Was there really someone after her? Were they in danger?
His phone rang. He looked at the screen.
Cecil!
Jack’s mind scrambled. Dare he answer?
When they’d last talked, Cecil had used the smokescreen about how the publisher was watching him, worried about lawsuits.
Had Bendickson or his cronies told Cecil about Jack’s interview? Had Cecil found out what Derrick was doing?
Jack decided to find out.
“This is Crittendon.”
“Jack … good, I’m glad I caught you,” Cecil said. “It’s not too late, you know.”
“Too late for what, Cecil?”
“You know …”
“No, I don’t.” Jack got a distressed feeling in the pit of his stomach. “What are you talking about?”
“You can still get in on the action. You’re not going to get anywhere with this. You realize that, don’t you?”
Cecil knew! They’d told him Jack was on to him.
“It’s not too late, Jack. I told them I could get you on our side. You can make some extra money. Keep your family safe. We keep things going at the paper, business as usual.”
“I can’t believe this.” Jack pushed harder on the gas, now within a mile of home. “How could you do this? What’s happened to you?”
“Don’t give me that Boy Scout crap. You know what kind of money we make. I’ve given the
Dispatch
eight years of my life, working eleven-, twelve-, thirteen-hour days, weekends, holidays; what have I got to show for it? A broken marriage and messed-up kids. Don’t give me your moral—”
“And you’re gonna take Amy down with you. Who else? Nigel? Is he in on it? What about Pete?” Jack’s whole body was trembling with fury.
“Where are you, Jack?”
He checked his rearview. Were they after him right now?
“Come in. Let’s talk about it face-to-face,” Cecil said.
“Yeah, right. What did Bendickson do, call you right after I left there?”
“Where’s Derrick, Jack?”
“Sick.”
“No … he’s not sick.”
Jack’s heart thundered as he finally wheeled the Jetta into his neighborhood.
“Jack, you don’t mess with these people.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Just what I said. They’re not going to let this get out, period. They’re too big and too powerful. They know there are leaks, and they’re in the process of patching those leaks. I’m calling you because I’m your friend—”
“Oh right, Cecil. Some friend you turned out to be.”
“That’s right! I don’t want to see anything happen to you—or Pam or the girls.”
Jack’s heads buzzed with alarm.
Could someone be at the house right now?
He should have called Pam!
He was almost there.
He touched the gun strapped to his ankle.
“You tell them if they come near any of us
,
they’re dead.” Jack flew around the corner onto his street, tires squealing.
Cecil laughed. “Jack, you’re one man. This is a
machine
. Trust me. You don’t want to keep going with this. Where are you gonna go? What’s your plan?”
“None of your business.” Jack floored the Jetta, and it roared up the street. “But you’re gonna go down.”
“One more chance. This is it. Come in now, talk to me, we work out a deal, we get Derrick in on it—everyone’s happy.”
“You know what, Cecil?
Take a flying leap!”
There were no strange cars parked near the house.
Good.
There was a long pause on the phone as Jack’s car bumped into the driveway. He hit the garage-door opener.
“You just made the biggest mistake of your short life, my friend,” Cecil said.
“I’m not your friend—”
The line went dead.
Fine. We need to get him before he gets us.
The garage door lifted.
Pam’s car was gone!
His mind seared white.
Where would they be?
He flew into the center of the garage, jerked to a stop, got out, and ran for the door.
He had been sure they would all be there, getting ready for the big date night.
He unlocked the door and ran inside. “Hello?”
Reaching for his cell phone to call Pam, he found a note on the kitchen island:
Jack, we’re at Farley’s getting sheers, then picking up pizza for the girls’ dinner. Looking forward to our date! Love, P
Phew.
They were okay. Everything was okay.
But Farley’s Home Store …
Chapter 33
Standing with the girls in the middle of Farley’s, Pamela nervously debated whether to let her mom finish checking out in the aisle next to Granger, or go corral her and make a beeline for the door.
“Why are we waiting?” Faye whined, leaning against Pamela.
Pamela did not want the girls to see Granger.
The muffled ring of her phone sounded, and she fumbled for it in her purse.
“MawMaw’s almost done checking out,” Rebecca said. “Are we getting the poster board or not?”
Pamela glanced at the phone and saw Jack’s name.
“Jack,” she whispered, looking up to see Granger staring directly at her—and the girls.
“Hey, honey, I just found your note,” Jack said. “Listen, don’t go to Farley’s for those curtains. Try somewhere else, okay, like Lowe’s or something?”
Screams rang out in the store.
People scattered like roaches.
“Everyone on the floor!” A man in a bomber jacket brandished a gun. In a flash, he had Margaret in a headlock.
Pamela’s knees wobbled, and she dropped to the ground, bringing the crying girls down with her.
Within seconds, the gunman and Margaret were the only two people still standing.
“Not you.” The gunman pointed at the tall, pimply checkout boy. “Get up, open the drawer.
Now!”
People were wailing, shouting God’s name.
“Shut up and get down low! On the floor, now!”
“Pam?” Jack’s voice chirped from the phone.
“We’re at Farley’s,” she whispered. “A man with a gun has Mom.” That was all she could say before the man blew a shot straight into the ceiling.