Hannah Alexander - Collateral Damage

“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.