"I seriously doubt it," Maggie said.
"He looks mean. I saw his picture on CNN last night. Paula Zahn was interviewing the warden from the prison in Texas."
"What was Paula wearing?" Zack asked.
Maggie and Mel just looked at him.
"You can tell me later," he said.
"Since when do you watch CNN?" Maggie asked, annoyed with herself for not remembering her daughter had a TV in her room and access to the news. No wonder she had spouted off in the van.
"I think I should know what he looks like," the girl said. "They showed a picture of the ATM driver he shot, and that FBI agent he killed. And he just dumped his friend's body in the woods on the side of the road. That is so sick. Now I'm glad Grandpa bought me that softball stuff last year. I'm going to keep the bat by my bed just in case."
"You play softball?" Zack asked as though trying to change the subject.
"In gym class," Mel said. "I wasn't very good at it and nobody wanted me on their team. My grandpa bought all this equipment so we could practice, but he is so impatient. I quit when he got annoyed and said I swung the bat like a girl."
Maggie was only vaguely aware of the conversation between the two. She was fuming mad at Carl Lee Stanton for making her daughter afraid. She was surprised that she could hate someone so intensely, that she could despise another human being. But Carl Lee wasn't much of a human being as far as she was concerned.
"I don't want you watching any more news shows," she told Mel. "I don't want you to get all caught up in that crap because it will only make you worry more."
"Nobody has to worry about anything," Zack said, "because I am here to serve, protect, and take care of the farm. I gotcha covered, ladies. Stanton doesn't stand a chance."
Mel looked at Zack. "What kind of gun do you have?"
Zack and Maggie exchanged looks. She gave a slight nod. She trusted Zack to say the right thing.
"It's a Glock," he said. "It's powerful, and I know how to use it if I have to. You and your mom are safe."
"Are you going to kill him?" Mel asked.
Maggie looked away. She felt frozen and hard. It didn't matter that Mel's question was tactless.
Zack put his elbows on the table and leaned closer to the girl. "Okay, here's the deal," he said. "I'm going to be honest with you, but you have to promise to trust me. Bottom line, I am going to do what I have to in order to protect the two of you. Whatever it takes."
* * * * *
Carl Lee and Cook hadn't walked far when an older-model baby-blue Cadillac convertible pulled off the road. The top was down; the driver sat low in the seat.
"Would you get a load of that car?" Cook said, giving a low whistle. "That sucker's an antique. It's in perfect condition. No telling what it's worth. He keeps looking at us. You think he plans on giving us a ride?"
"We're priests," Carl Lee said. "Of course he wants to give us a ride."
The driver backed toward them, swerving from side to side. "Uh-oh, he drives like he's drunk," Cook said. "I'm not riding with a drunk driver. I am totally against driving and drinking. Plus, drunk drivers have too many wrecks. I can't take being in another wreck today."
"Hell, look at him," Carl Lee said. "He's not drunk; he's old. Let me do the talking." Carl Lee walked toward the car, a big smile fixed on his face.
The man at the wheel smiled and waved. His face was a web of wrinkles, his bald head speckled with liver spots. White hair sprouted from his ears, one sharing space with a flesh-colored hearing aid.
"Good afternoon, Fathers," he said, peering at Carl Lee and Cook over a pair of bifocals that rested low on his nose. He wore an old terrycloth bathrobe that bore grape juice stains. "Going my way?" he asked.
"Well, hello there, old-timer," Carl Lee said as he and Cook stood next to the car.
"Old?" the man said, drawing bushy white eyebrows together in a frown. "Who are you calling old? I'm only ninety-nine. I'm still as spry as a young rooster."
"My mistake," Carl Lee said. "Where are you headed?"
"Say what?" The man cupped his ear as he looked from Carl Lee to Cook. "I'm hard of hearing, and I was in such a hurry to get on the road that I forgot my hearing aid."
"It's in your ear," Cook said loudly.
"Really?" The man touched it. "Hey, you're right. I forgot to turn it on." He fiddled with it. "That's better," he said.
"I asked where you were going," Carl Lee repeated.
"Can you fellows keep a secret?"
Carl Lee nodded. "We're in the business of keeping secrets."
"I'm running away to Canada because my daughter is sending me to a nursing home in a couple of days. She says I'm not in my right mind. She's seventy-five years old; her mind isn't as sharp as she thinks it is."
"You sound okay to me," Cook told him, "but I'm still in shock because we were just in a terrible—"
Carl Lee stepped on his foot. Cook winced but shut up quickly.
"If you boys need a ride, I could use some help driving 'cause I've been at this wheel a while and I missed my nap," the old man said.
"How long have you been on the road?" Cook asked, stepping back, obviously trying to avoid Carl Lee stepping on his foot again.
"About an hour now," he said.
"Sure, we'll help you out," Carl Lee said. "That's what we do." He opened the driver's door. "Why don't you relax in the backseat and let me take the wheel?"
"I'd be much obliged," he said as Carl Lee helped him out. "My name is Ed White, by the way."
"I'm Father Tom, and this is Father Jerry," Carl Lee said, motioning to Cook. "But you can call us Tom and Jerry. You're safe in our hands, Ed."
* * * * *
"Does anybody need me to make a stop before we head to the farm?" Zack asked.
"I need—" Maggie sighed. "I need groceries, but I left my list at home."
"Do you want me to drive you to the house to pick it up?"
"No, I can probably remember." Maggie tried to sound confident, but her mind was racing in too many directions. Ultimately, though, every thought led straight to Carl Lee. Except one, she reminded herself. She hadn't stopped thinking about Zack's mouth on hers.
Inside, the store was crowded with Saturday shoppers. Maggie grabbed a cart and was surprised when Zack did the same. He and Mel took off in one direction while Maggie tried to decide where to start. Her mind drew a huge blank, and she pushed her cart aimlessly for a few minutes before deciding to concentrate on buying the essentials. Milk and bread, she thought. She was always running out of milk and bread.
Zack and Mel came up behind her a few minutes later. Mel wore a huge grin. "Look what Uncle Zack bought me." She pointed to the cart.
Maggie looked at their cart. Potato chips, dips, cocktail wieners, cookies, a twenty-four-pack of Pepsi, several teen magazines, a sketch pad, glitter nail polish, and poker chips? "Wow," she said.
Zack wore a sheepish smile. "I know it's a little over the top, but how many times do I get to spoil my favorite niece?"
Mel nodded. "Plus, I think we should be able to eat junk food on weekends. All my friends eat junk food, and they haven't come up with any incurable diseases. And look—" She paused and dug through the cart. "We got you some bath spritzers. You just drop one into your bath water, soak for about an hour, and all your tension goes away. The frown lines between your eyebrows will magically disappear."
"I have frown lines?" Maggie asked, touching the area between her eyes and finding the skin puckered. "Gee, I guess I do."
Zack pulled into Maggie's driveway a half hour later with only a few bags since Maggie hadn't been able to remember all that she'd needed. Zack gave them the code, showed them how to punch it in so they'd know how to arm and disarm it. Maggie and Mel took turns trying it out.
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