Collateral Damage

THREE

On Saturday morning Sarah craved a shower. After a few hours of sleep at the far edge of the Springfield/Branson airport parking lot, she’d tried uncountable times to call Emma, but of course she was diverted to voice mail. The line for a shower at the truck stop in Mount Vernon was too long for her to wait.

At least she’d had a chance to brush her teeth and wash her face and grab a fast-food breakfast, so her stomach was full, but it rumbled with nerves. Last night, despite her fatigue, she’d struggled to fall asleep because she couldn’t stop thinking about Nick. After all these years, she wouldn’t have believed his voice would have the power to affect her. But it was more than just his voice—it was the sense of caring he’d related over the phone, the words of kindness. He’d brought back so many memories, and she caught herself wondering how their lives would have gone if they’d made different choices.

How often she’d longed to crawl back into the past and never leave town.

She pulled into Jolly Mill thirty-five minutes after finishing her breakfast and felt blasted by memories she’d believed had settled into the dust along the surrounding country roads. She admired the modest, three-bedroom brick house when she pulled into the Tyler drive. Someone had done a fine job of landscaping, with trimmed hedges, a freshly mown lawn and real grass—not the mowed weeds she’d always managed to grow on her own lawn.

She parked behind an old brown Ford pickup. Edward’s truck. It had been nearly new when her family moved away. Okay, this set of recollections was hitting a little too hard.

She glimpsed a flash of bright red peeking out from behind a juniper tree at the corner of the house, and felt a quick squeeze of her chest. It was Mom’s beloved VW Beetle, which Mom had been generous enough to share after Emma got her driver’s license. Soon it would belong to Emma, though the title wouldn’t be in her name until Sarah was convinced Emma could handle the responsibility. Maybe by the time she was twenty-one...

Lowering her squeaky driver-side window, Sarah sniffed the air. Bacon and other smoked meat scents combined with a sweetness of maple, reaching her from the restaurant a couple of blocks away, across the street from the big old wooden grain mill from which Jolly Mill had gotten its name. No telling who owned the restaurant now. Nick’s uncle, Will Parker, had once made the place the most popular hangout around for local high-schoolers—therefore, Shelby had loved the place, and Sarah had seldom gone there. Nick and his cousin, Billy, Will’s son, had never run in the same circles at school. Nick was more scholastically minded, and Billy hung out with the hard-partying crowd. Where Nick went, Sarah went. Why hadn’t it occurred to her during those years of innocence that there might have been a reason why she and Nick stuck so closely together?

She continued to admire the neatly trimmed shrubs, the bricks surrounding the flower beds, the trees, nicely mulched, that shaded the yard with spring green. Nick had begun earning money for college and med school in eighth grade by doing lawn care...and working on a wonderful tan and beautiful muscles that she was sure would’ve had most of the girls in their class following him around like hungry kittens if he’d ever gone without a shirt.

It was difficult for Sarah to decide if she felt more relieved or worried that Emma had spent the night under the Tyler roof—likely with her own father and grandfather, both oblivious. Family and old friends would surround Sarah and Emma here in Jolly Mill...if they stayed.

A dog barked from down the street, and a lawnmower fired up a few blocks away—actually, in a town of eight hundred twelve people, there were only a few blocks in any direction. Sarah had loved growing up here. How she’d missed this place.

Focusing to keep her breaths steady, she marched to the front door and pressed the doorbell. The deep, soothing sounds of Westminster Abbey chimed through the house. She recalled those chimes from her earliest memories, and that soothed a little of her tension. Today was Saturday. Maybe everyone but Emma was sleeping in. Emma never slept in.

The door opened a crack, and dark brown, sleepy eyes peered out.

“Emma?”

The eyes widened and Emma gave a soft gasp as she pulled the door open. “Um, hi, sis. Wow, what’re you doing here so early?”

Sarah stepped past the threshold. She grabbed Emma in a tight hug that obviously surprised Emma as much as it did her. “If you ever do anything like this again I’ll ground you for the rest of your life. Do you know how scared I was?”

Emma held still for a moment, breathing slowly, as if soaking in the hug. They’d been close all of Emma’s life, but because Mom and Dad were the disciplinarians, Sarah had always taken advantage of the opportunity to just enjoy time with her. She would need to start relying on her instincts as a kindergarten teacher when it came to discipline from now on. She could only imagine how Emma would respond to that.

Too soon for Sarah, her daughter wriggled free. “I told you where I was coming.” She folded her arms across her underdeveloped chest. “Don’t you think I’m old enough to take care of myself a few miles from home?”

“You drove across the whole lower state of Missouri! And don’t think you’re going to get away with this.”

Emma sighed. “I know,” she said in a singsong voice, “I’ll have my cousin John to answer to when we get home.”

“You’ll have me to answer to, but the Tylers have been through too much already. They don’t need two feuding sisters on their hands.” It was a little late to start being the boss in Emma’s life, but too often these past weeks she’d depended on John to step in as a father figure.

“According to Nick,” Emma said, “when you and Shelby were together you were always feuding.”

“Nick said that?”

“He even told me he had a crush on Shelby that lasted maybe a couple of weeks.”

Sarah forgot to breathe for a moment. “He said that?” A couple of weeks?

“Okay, then he admitted maybe it lasted a little longer than that, but he wasn’t in her league. He was a nerd, you know, not one of the jocks Shelby went for.” She grinned up at Sarah. “Edward said you were Nick’s true love, and everybody knew it.”

Sarah tried not to react to that, but oh, it felt good to hear those words, whether or not they were true. And then she wondered why she felt so strongly about it after all these years.

“Y’all must’ve talked a lot last night.” Sarah glanced up at the set of family photos to their left in the vestibule. One showed Nick at sixteen, standing above his seated parents. After all these years the memories tied knots around her heart. But before she could get maudlin she caught sight of a photo of Aunt Peg and Edward on their wedding day. Peg was what, twenty-four? Had Emma caught sight of herself in her grandmother’s photo?

Emma closed her eyes with a sigh, and when she opened them again, they were slightly moist. “I’m sorry I scared you, sis, really. I couldn’t stop thinking about that all the way here. I kept imagining how hurt you’d be, and I wanted to call you before I left, but really? Don’t you want to know what happened to Mom and Dad?” Her typically soft, girlish voice tapered to a tiny tremble.

Sarah strolled past a padded foyer bench surrounded by a bentwood hall tree and an umbrella stand. She entered an open kitchen and living area that surely provided a pleasant great room for entertaining. She sank onto a pale green plush chair that faced an unobstructed view of the carefully tended backyard.

“I do want to know what happened to Mom and Dad,” she said. “I also want to keep you safe. Nick’s told me what he and his friend, the ex-cop, are doing, and I’m afraid we’ll just get in the way.”

Emma sat on the edge of a sofa that matched the chair, the sweet floral scent of her shampoo settling around them. “I’m not useless, you know. I can ask around. Besides, I want to get to know folks around here, and you can get reacquainted with old friends, right? What if Nick’s right and someone can tell you something? Don’t you want to know?”

Sarah suppressed a sigh. Her inquisitive, precious, irritating daughter. The trait of friendliness had been learned from the cradle. Sarah, on the other hand, would rather curl up for hours on her sofa in her tiny brick house at the edge of Sikeston, laptop across her knees as she compiled endless pages of fiction in her make-believe world with imaginary characters. For years she’d dreamed of having a novel published. It wasn’t as easy as she’d once thought. With Mom and Dad gone, would she ever be able to return to that?

“Nick’s really cool,” Emma said. “So’s Edward. We stayed up late last night and talked about Mom and Dad and Edward’s wife.”

“Aunt Peg.”

“He said you and Shelby always called her that.” Emma reached over and touched Sarah’s arm. “Please, please, don’t you think we can stay awhile?”

Sarah braced herself against this child’s well-known charm.

Emma turned and looked up at her, eyes large and entreating, a look Sarah had never been able to resist. “Did Nick tell you much about Gerard Vance?”

Sarah raised her eyebrows.

“The man who used to be a policeman down in Corpus Christi.”

“He told me a little.”

“He runs this homeless rehab place up at the top of the hills overlooking the mill. Isn’t that really great?”

“Homeless rehab?”

“Yeah. The guy married an old friend of yours, Megan Bradley?”

“Megan? Really?” With a sense of loss, Sarah realized she had so much catching up to do. She’d missed nearly seventeen years’ worth of Jolly Mill life.

“Yeah, she’s a doctor now, and she met Gerard at his mission in Texas. He looks for people living on the street who want a new start in life, and he moves them to the rehab place. Just up that way on the hill.” She pointed north. “He’s helping Nick research the...the deaths.” Her voice wobbled.

Sarah patted Emma’s knee. “Sorry, sweetie. I’m so sorry. This is hard, I know.” She blinked at the moisture that seemed so ever present in her own eyes the past three weeks. “Where are Nick and Edward now?”

Emma dabbed at her cheeks and sniffed. “Why do you call Edward by just his name when you always called his wife Aunt Peg?”

“Mom once told me it was a modified Southernism—instead of Miss Peg she was Auntie Peg, then the name shortened to Aunt when we got older. Edward insisted everyone call him Edward instead of Pastor or Reverend. He’s kind of a laid-back guy.”

“Edward said this is his only day to sleep late, so he’ll be up later. I think I heard the shower a while ago, so that’s probably Nick.”

Then now would be her only chance to get Emma out of here. “Emma, honey, I know you don’t want to think about it, but as I said, what if someone did cause those explosions? We could be in danger here, and Nick would be distracted if he has to see to our safety.”

“But we can help. You’re packing heat, aren’t you?”

Sarah blinked. “You mean, did I bring my Smith & Wesson?” she asked dryly.

“In the wheel well, where you keep it? John told you to always keep it near you for protection. A woman alone can never be too—”

“Yes, but I don’t ever want to have to use it, and it doesn’t have to come to that if we would just leave.”

“Nick got a couple more leads on his blog late last night,” Emma said. “New person, fake name, couldn’t trace it. Anyway, this person warned Nick to get on with his life if he wanted to keep it, and then they also mentioned how easily they could strike at any time. There was something about a party almost seventeen years ago?”

Sarah recoiled at the slap of those words. “The party?” So it was someone she’d known long ago. Someone, perhaps, who’d spiked the sodas at the going-away party Nora Thompson had thrown so the kids could say goodbye to Sarah’s identical twin, Shelby—a party thrown at Shelby’s request.

“Did Nick tell you about that?”

Emma shrugged. “He said someone spiked the soda. Edward said he thought the comment might be a prank. You know how sleazy people can get online.”

“I doubt Nick’s taking it casually. I’m not anymore.” All the more reason to get Emma safely out of town.

“Why?”

“Honey, some jerk slipped a bunch of ecstasy into the sodas at that party, and the kids all kind of went nuts. Whoever sent that message to Nick obviously knew about it and is probably still in town.”

Emma frowned up at her, scrunching her lips as she often did, which Mom had always warned her would give her wrinkles. “Edward would rather think it’s some kind of hate crime. You know, like maybe somebody who hates Christians found out about the retreat. We hear a lot of stories about church shootings.”

“But in Jolly Mill? This is the last place I can imagine that happening. Strangers couldn’t even find it. This place is isolated. Besides, as Nick pointed out to me, if they wanted to kill a bunch of preachers they’d have struck earlier. I think this was more focused.”

Emma took a shuddering breath, and Sarah wished she hadn’t said that.

“Has Nick gathered any more information about the retreat center on Spring River that got shut down because of a dioxin spill?”

Emma slumped back into the cushions. “No, but he told me about it.”

“So you can see why Dad might have been the one targeted. Hypothetically. He was instrumental not only in convincing the ministerial alliance to move their meeting place from Verona, but he spoke to others who met there, as well, and there was a general exodus.”

“Nick’s about to give up on that lead,” Emma said. “Not much to go on, and as Edward said, who’s going to wait more than thirty years to get their revenge? Nick made a few more calls last night. The retreat owner’s wife got remarried and moved away with their daughter about a year after he killed himself. Two of his brothers stayed on and farmed and did pretty well. Gerard Vance?”

“The ex-cop, yes.” Sarah smiled to herself. She could tell Emma was taken with Nick’s friend. What impressed Sarah was that Megan Bradley had married him. She wondered, however, how Alec Thompson had taken that. Megan and Alec dated for a couple of years in high school. Of course, who knew about life in Jolly Mill after Sarah and her family moved away?

“Gerard had a talk with both of the brothers, and they said he always struggled with depression. They never blamed anything but that, and Gerard believes them.”

“So Nick and Gerard are pursuing other leads?” Sarah asked.

“It’s kind of hard to dig up dirt on a well-loved pastor.” Never able to remain still for long, Emma sprang from the sofa and wandered through the room. “I drove through that town on my way here. Can you believe it’s tinier than Jolly Mill?”

Sometimes her quick subject changes were dizzying, but Sarah kept up. Barely. “Verona? Why did you drive that route?”

“I wanted to drive past the plant that processed Agent Orange during the Vietnam War. That’s, like, a gazillion years ago. That’s what the dioxin leak was, you know.”

“Emma, you went alone. At night.”

“When you think about it, it’s all kind of awful, huh?” Emma asked. “A tiny place in the middle of a peaceful farming community being used to make poison.”

“Which part of this whole thing isn’t awful?”

“Meeting Nick and Edward.” Emma grinned, though it was a smile tinged by sorrow.

An unexpected chill breathed across Sarah’s neck. Except for his temporary misadventures in English class—in which she tutored him—Nick was always brilliant, astute when it came to people. His initial hunch might have fizzled, and Sarah might just be allowing herself to be drawn into the drama, but she had always trusted his judgment.

Emma touched her arm. “Sis?”

Sarah allowed the warmth of that delicate hand to seep into her skin. “Yes.”

“What’s going on in your head? You look freaked.”

“We need to go back to Sikeston. Today.”

Emma jerked her hand away. “I didn’t come all the way over here just to turn around and go back. I want to help—”

“How? It’s sounding more and more as if someone intentionally killed our loved ones—there’s probably someone in Jolly Mill we can’t trust.”

“Don’t you want to see Edward again?”

“Of course I do.” Part of her, however, felt desperate enough to want to take Emma right now and skip town before things could get out of hand completely, or before Emma impulsively stuck her nose where it didn’t belong.

“We need to spend some time with him, Sarah, not just say hi and bye. He was one of Dad’s best friends. Nick said Gerard is keeping watch from his place above town, where he has a clear view of all movement here in the valley, and besides, if we don’t go see Carmen while we’re this close she’ll never forgive us. You want that on your conscience?”

What Sarah wanted was for her daughter to be safe. Yes, she wanted justice, but what were a rebellious teenager and a kindergarten teacher—who had, admittedly, been well taught by her policeman cousin to shoot a target—going to do to help catch killers? Another thing she didn’t want was an emotional revelation that could have unbearable consequences—couldn’t it?

“Well?” Emma demanded. “Do you?”

“We can see Carmen on our way out of town.”

Emma crossed her arms again, her full lower lip jutting out in the tiny pout she often used to try to get her way—though she seldom succeeded, except with Sarah. “I’m staying.”

This was not going well.

* * *

Nick scrubbed at his hair with the towel until both were equally damp and wondered if the friction of his movements might have scorched the terry cloth. He had blades to sharpen, lawns to mow and clients to placate, but right now all he wanted to do was pull on his clothes, go downstairs and wait for Sarah—she might even be here already. Was that the door chime he’d heard a few minutes ago while the shower was pounding his head, or was he imagining that? She’d sounded pretty wiped out last night, so she might have slept in this morning.

He flicked the towel over the bar, trying to breathe through the steamy air and thinking about last night’s events. Emma was a good kid, as much as he could tell from a couple of hours of talk before they all retired. Immature, but what sixteen-year-old wasn’t? She was a worker, that much he knew. He’d put her to work helping him load the pickup and trailer with his lawn-care equipment before Dad got home last night, and she’d volunteered to help him mow and trim today. Of course, he’d turned her down.

He was reaching for his T-shirt when a voice trailed from the other end of the hallway. He jerked, bumped his elbow on the towel rack and gritted back a growl.

The voice was Sarah’s. He couldn’t keep a smile from his face. She was here.

Then Emma’s voice fell plaintively on his ears, not quite clear enough to make out the words. The voices grew softer but more intense, which meant they were probably arguing and didn’t want anyone to hear. Which made him want to hear.

He took two seconds to comb his still-damp hair and cracked open the door. Time to calm the waters.

“...don’t listen to me. You never listen! I told you, Nick said I could stay. We can both stay. Edward said so, too.”

“And you thought you could accept the invitation for both of us without consulting me?”

“Come on, Sarah, they’re family friends, practically family.”

“You’ve been communicating with him online. Do you know how dangerous that could have been? What if it hadn’t been Nick?”

“But it was.”

“You didn’t know that for sure. What would stop someone from contacting you online and posing as Nick to lure you down here? How did you know you weren’t walking into a deadly trap?”

“But Nick said he wanted to talk to me...to us.”

“He had no idea you were coming here. What you did was beyond dangerous.”

The silence that followed her statement was telling. Nick waited for some exclamation of outrage from Emma, maybe a good, out-and-out catfight, but that wasn’t Sarah’s way except when it came to her twin, and judging by Emma’s behavior last night, she might be impulsive but not aggressive.

“That car parked outside isn’t yours,” Sarah said at last. “The title reverted to me upon Mom’s death, and I’m the one who calls the shots in our household now, whether we like it or not. That car goes back to Sikeston today, and you’re driving it.”

More silence.

Nick could almost close his eyes and picture the twins, Shelby and Sarah Russell, arguing in the school hallway, or on their front porch or just about anywhere. Typically it was Shelby who instigated the fight in an effort to force Sarah to do something she didn’t want to do, such as join the cheerleading squad or go on a youth camping trip or sign up for summer sports. Sarah knew how to dig in and not be moved.