Chapter 14: : Chapter 14

Sloan considered it another very good day. She’d regained her rhythm physically, professionally, and—for the most part—emotionally.

The occasional nightmare hardly counted.

When she needed a mental health break, she worked out, or she crocheted—something she could now do passably well while watching TV.

In anticipation of her gutted bathroom, she took everything out of the vanity, the shower, pulled towels off the rods and transferred them to the second bath.

In the kitchen she made herself some stir-fry with chicken as protein. Then sitting at her little table with her dinner and her laptop, initiated a background check on Theo (not Theodore, but Theo) Littlefield.

No criminal, so good there. No civil suits, no accusations of domestic abuse, no criminal charges period. A couple of speeding tickets. He’d passed the bar six months before, and as of December sixteenth, became a licensed contractor.

“Nothing to see here,” Sloan concluded. She took a moment to evaluate herself, and found she wasn’t just relieved but happy.

Drea deserved a good man who loved the air she breathed.

Since she’d started it, she ran the same on Nash.

No criminal, unless she counted the underage drinking violation. Which, from the dates, the location, she took to be a senior high school kegger.

She couldn’t hold it against him, as she’d have the same on her record if she’d gotten caught.

She’d either been luckier or more strategic.

She found more than a couple of speeding tickets in his late teens, early twenties. But apparently he’d regulated himself in that area.

She came up with one civil case, from three years prior. Then found herself shocked to see his own parents had brought it against him.

They’d sued their son to try to cut him off from the chunk of money he’d receive from his trust fund at thirty.

They’d lost, and in fact had been ordered to pay Nash’s legal fees. She just couldn’t get over the fact parents would go so far against their own son.

And for money. The reason somehow made it even worse.

“Not my business. It’s really not my business. So enough. Nothing to see here either.”

She could hand over her spare key to the Fix-Its without a qualm.

She put it aside, did her dishes.

After building up the fire, she brought her laptop to the living room. Feet up on the coffee table, she started her search for like crimes.

She found nothing that fit the specific and narrow parameters on Janet Anderson, so widened it.

She paused for a text from Joel.

Just checking in, Sarge! Have to tell you Sari really, truly felt our girl move!! She said it felt like a bunch of butterflies flying around and flipping over. Had her checkup, too, and I heard the heartbeat. They said we’re all a-okay, and our girl’s about the size of a banana. Saw her in there, too. And didn’t need them to show me. Sending Auntie Sloan a pic.

Studying the ultrasound warmed Sloan’s heart. And this time she could make out Joel’s girl—because Mama Dee hit that target—easily.

This is so exciting! And she just gets prettier. So glad you’re all a-okay. Butterflies. You could name her Lotis for the lotis blue—one of the rarest. I can’t wait to meet her. All’s good here. Getting my bathroom ripped out and redone. That’s my excitement. Love to all of you. Keep me updated on the baby.

Joel sent her a baby emoji as a sign-off.

Still feeling that warmth, she nearly put the search away. She could watch a movie instead, or get back to reading the book she’d started the night before.

Or try her luck on crocheting a hat.

She decided to give it another hour, then shift to the book before bed. Early to bed, she reminded herself.

She wanted to be up, showered, and dressed before the bathroom crew arrived.

One hour drifted into two. She found a missing woman, reported by her adult daughter, from Hazelton, just over the West Virginia border. In September of last year, Sloan noted, no abandoned car this time. Celia Russell had taken her dog—Misty, a miniature poodle—out for a walk.

Neither had been seen since.

The daughter reported that Russell, divorced, had no signs of depression, no known enemies, no gambling or drinking problems.

Investigated as abduction, but that ran cold.

“More than twenty-five years older than Janet, and there’s the dog.”

She moved on.

So many, she thought. So many missing. Some found, some not. Some found when it was too late.

A dentist from Cumberland intrigued her. That abandoned car. But male, middle-aged. And having an affair with a woman about half his age.

She made notes on him, and on Celia Russell simply to satisfy the investigator inside her.

Realizing she’d missed that early night deadline, she made herself shut off her laptop and get ready for bed.

As Sloan climbed into bed and turned off the light, Clara and Sam sat parked on the far end of the hotel’s parking lot in Uniontown, and directly beside Zach Tarrington’s Saab.

“We’re really lucky he’s working the late shift, babe.”

“Not lucky,” Clara corrected, and kept a hawk eye on the doors. “It’s meant.”

“You’re right.” He patted her hand. “It’s meant.”

“He should be coming any minute now. You should get out, doll, go around the back of the van. We don’t want him seeing a big, handsome man like you.”

“Black man.” Sam gave a resigned shrug. “I know how it is.”

Now she patted his hand.

“Just like we planned.”

Sam got out, used the van as cover.

The security lights worried him some, but Clara said this place, this time, this resurrected was meant. That was that.

Plus, it was goddamn cold. He could think the goddamn, but he had to be careful with certain swears around Clara.

And sometimes he thought she could read his mind. She was spooky, his Clara. He loved that about her.

He heard her open the door of the van, and got ready.

Clara slipped out, pretended to have some trouble opening the side doors.

“Pete’s sake!” she said loud enough for the man approaching to hear her. “Stupid thing’s sticking again. Wouldn’t you just know it!”

“Need some help, ma’am?”

She turned, gave Zach a frustrated smile.

“I sure could use some if you don’t mind. Door’s stuck again. It takes some muscle to get it open.”

He smiled back, a pleasant-looking man with a good haircut and horn-rimmed glasses.

“Let’s see if I’ve got enough.”

He gripped the handle with both hands, gave it a hard sideways pull. It opened so smooth, so fast, he nearly tumbled.

He started to laugh, and Sam shoved the needle in.

Zach managed a half shout. His arms waved wildly. Sam locked his arms around him, tossed him inside.

“I got him.” As he climbed in, he glanced toward the hotel.

“Jesus, somebody’s coming.”

Clara slid the door closed, and wearing that frustrated smile again, walked over to a tall Black man who crossed the lot.

“Excuse me, I must’ve made a wrong turn. My daughter’s going to wonder where I am. Can you tell me how to get back on 40, headed west?”

“I sure can.”

He gave her directions where she had no intention of going.

“Thank you. My old bucket doesn’t have the GPS, and I got turned around.”

“No problem at all. Drive safe.”

“Oh, I always do.”

She walked back to the van, put on her seat belt. Started the engine. She gave a wave to the man who’d given her directions as he unlocked a car several spaces down the row.

As she drove, safely, out of the parking lot, she flipped a glance in the rearview mirror.

“You shouldn’t take the name of our Lord and Savior in vain, Sam.”

“I know, Clara, I’m sorry. It just jumped up. And aren’t you cool, walking right up to that guy that way.”

“I couldn’t see any other way to do it. Had to distract him.”

“Smart. But now he’s seen you, babe. He’s seen you and the van.”

“We won’t worry about that right yet. Let’s get this one home. He’s good and out, isn’t he?”

“He is now.”

Sam climbed in the front, put his seat belt on.

“He didn’t see you, doll. Didn’t see you put this one in, or get in after. He came out after that, when I was closing the door. But this one was putting up a ruckus, and I couldn’t be sure the other wouldn’t hear. I needed to keep him away some until you had him all secure.”

“Fast thinking, babe. Those security lights … Still, it was pretty dark, and you’re wearing a hat, got your scarf bundled up. I bet he didn’t see much of your face.”

“Probably not, but you’re right, doll, he surely saw the van.”

“We’ll paint it. We can paint it.”

“Now who’s thinking fast! We’ll paint it. Oh, let’s pick a pretty color. Dark blue, I think. Navy blue. That’s not flashy, but it’ll be a nice change.”

“Dark blue it is.” It pleased him he’d thought of something that pleased her. “I’m going to take care of this for us, babe. I’ll look up how it’s done and take care of it.”

She sent him a quick grin. “Now that it’s all done with, Sam? That was kind of exciting. It got me wound up some.”

He grinned back. “We get home, get this one secure, I’ll take care of that, too.”

Promptly at seven-fifteen in the morning, Sloan answered the knock on the door.

“Right on time.” She stepped back. “Hi, Theo, nice to see you.”

“You, too. Thanks for the job.”

“You’ll see that it needs a lot of work.”

Theo flexed his biceps. “We’re up for it.”

She had to smile at him. “Nothing like demo day, right?”

“You got that. I guess you’ve done your share.”

“And enjoyed every minute. If I had any spare weeks, I’d tackle that ugly bathroom myself. But.”

She offered Nash a key. He still had some stubble, she noted. But more like a night’s worth.

“In case you have to go out and come back, and to lock up when you leave. I probably won’t be home until you’ve knocked off for the day.”

“Do you want us to leave it somewhere when we do?”

Her quick background check made this part easy, and had her mind easy, too.

“No, just keep it until the job’s finished. I’m on call twenty-four/seven, so it’s better you have a way to get in, in case I’m not here to let you in. Some of the replacements are due to be delivered today.”

“We’ll take care of everything.”

“Thanks. Where’s Tic?”

“Oh, he’s home,” Theo said. “In his crate.”

On a frustrated breath, Sloan rolled her eyes—mostly at Nash. “Well, go back and get him. Don’t leave him crated all day.”

“Really?” Theo’s face brightened. “Are you sure?”

“Really, and I’m sure. Go free the dog. Make sure you bring him some toys and treats.”

“I’ll be right back.”

As Theo ran out, Nash sighed. “You’re asking for trouble.”

“Train your dog, Littlefield.”

“He’s Theo’s dog.”

“He’s the Fix-It Brothers’ dog. There’s coffee, and soft drinks. Help yourself.”

“We brought our own, but thanks.”

“If you run out, help yourself. I stocked for a crew. Now I’m going over to confess to my father I knocked him out of a job. He’ll only have five minutes to sulk before I leave for work.”

“Good luck with that.”

“I may need it.”

She got out her scarf, her coat, stuck gloves in her pocket.

Then put on her Stetson.

And turned to see Nash smiling at her.

“What?”

“You look damn good in that hat, Sergeant Cooper.”

“I do, don’t I?” She gave the brim a finger swipe. “Tear it up, Littlefield. I never want to see that yellow daisy flooring again.”

He watched her walk out. Maybe it was the hat, he thought, but she had a definite swagger.

He thought of the way she’d walked the first time he’d seen her. Like every step required pain and effort.

“Sure wouldn’t know it now.”

He started to shut the door, but Robo pulled up so he waited.

“Ready for demo, Robo?”

“Ready, boss.”

He stepped in, looked around. “It’s some better in than out. Maybe. She’s got nice furniture. That fireplace is dead ugly, though, and the kitchen’s not much prettier.”

He tipped up one shoulder as Nash grinned at him.

“I’ve been paying more attention to that kind of thing since I started working for you and Theo.”

“And you’re not wrong about the fireplace or the kitchen. Wait until you get a load of the bathroom we’re gutting.”

It would be a busy morning for Clara and Sam. Because they’d wanted sex and sleep, they used deep IV sedation on Zach to keep him under.

Bright and early, Clara mixed up some Bisquick pancakes and pork sausage so they’d both start the day off right.

She dressed in scrubs, not only for the procedure, but because she needed to be at work by one for her shift.

She’d chosen her rainbow smock, a favorite, as rainbows were one of God’s miracles.

She understood the gays had taken the rainbow for their symbol, and she didn’t approve of homosexuality. But she didn’t judge, as only the Almighty could judge.

And she liked the smock.

She went in to Zach, checked his vitals, then turned off the drip. She checked his pee bag—not enough to change out as yet, she decided. Then went back for another cup of coffee to give him time to wake naturally while Sam did some of his online schoolwork.

It made her proud he was studying to be an RN. She knew he made a fine caregiver at the old folks’ home, but he could do more and was working hard to better himself.

“Sorry, doll, he’s waking up now.”

“I’ll be along in two shakes.”

“You take your time.”

She took hers, getting up from her coffee and the monitor to walk to the locked door, then down to the basement.

Clara turned the key and stepped in where Zach lay propped on the hospital bed, eyes glazed and fearful, heart rate on the monitor spiking.

She spoke kindly, calmly. “Good morning, Zach! You got some good sleep. How’re you feeling?”

Behind his glasses, his eyes rolled wildly, left, right, left again. “Who are you? What’s happening? Where am I?”

“Questions, questions! And not even a ‘good morning’?” She tsked as she smiled. “I want you to try to slow down your breathing a little, and remember everything’s going to be just fine.”

“But—I was leaving work. You were there. Your door was stuck. I helped you.”

“And thank you for that. You showed good manners and consideration. We’re going to help each other now. I’m here to help you.”

His breathing stayed labored as he stared at her. “Why am I strapped down? I don’t like being strapped down!”

“We don’t want you to hurt yourself, Zach. You hurt yourself before, didn’t you? You took your own life.”

“I was—I was in crisis. I got treatment. I go to therapy.”

“Those are choices you should’ve made before you killed yourself. But that’s done.” She gave his shoulder a comforting rub. “Still, we need to hear your story. That’s all we’re asking.”

“You need to let me go. Please. People will be looking for me.”

“Well now, that might be, but you wouldn’t report in for work for hours yet. You tell us your story, and we’ll let you go long before that. We’ll send you home, and those waiting for you will give you your homecoming.”

Clara noted he strained against the straps, as they all did. In her nurse’s heart, she wished to give him minimal sedation to ease his fears. But even minimal could interfere with the process.

“What story?” he demanded. “I don’t understand. Who is that!”

His agitation grew as Sam came in with the camera.

“Zach, Zach, slow your breath down. Try to relax for me. We’re here to help you.”

“Help me with what? I’m fine. I’m fine. Why are you doing this?” Anger burst out first, then despair followed. “I’m nobody. I’m nobody.”

“Now, don’t you say such a thing. You’re one of God’s creations. All we want is for you to tell us your story. If you can’t do that right now, we’ll sedate you, give you a chance to relax, and try this again tomorrow.”

“No, no! Don’t do that. I need to pick up my little boy from preschool tomorrow. I have a little boy. His name is Ben. I’m taking him to a monster truck rally on Saturday. I have to go home.”

“Of course you have to go home. Didn’t I just say we’re going to send you home? You just need to tell us your story first.”

And as with the others, a spark of hope lit in his eye. Clara always took that as a good sign. They might not believe they were ready to leave this world and go to their true home, but they’d tell their story.

“All right. All right. I’ll do whatever you want, but I don’t understand. What story?”

“Ten months ago, Zach, you closed yourself in your room at your parents’ house. Parents who took you in, gave you shelter when you were sad and upset.”

“Yes, yes. I thought I’d lost everything. I thought my life was over anyway, and I just wanted to end it. I was wrong. I was wrong.”

“You bought a rope, a good, thick rope, and you tied it into a noose, and you secured it up on the pole of the ceiling light. You got up on a chair and put that rope around your neck.”

“I thought I didn’t want to live. I thought death was the answer.” Tears rolled down his cheeks. “I was wrong!”

Calmly, Clara continued.

“Your father heard the chair you kicked over. He didn’t think anything of it at first, and then he worried some. He knocked on your door. When you didn’t answer, he beat on the door, then he slammed his body against it until he broke it down.”

“He cut me down.” Zach couldn’t wipe the tears away, so they kept rolling down his cheeks. “He yelled for my mom to call nine-one-one, and he got up on the chair, used his pocketknife to cut me down. I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to make that up to him and my mom.”

He choked on a sob. “I hurt them. I hurt them so much.”

She paused a moment, then stepped closer. “You understand what you did was deeply hurtful to those who birthed and raised you? And more, a terrible sin?”

“Yes, yes! Please, let me go!”

“And have you repented that sin, Zach? I’ll know, I promise you, I’ll know if you lie. Have you made atonement for that most grievous sin?”

“Every day! I swear it!”

Her face, her eyes lit with genuine fervor. “I’m so happy to hear that, Zach. I believe we can atone, even from the most grievous sins.”

“I got treatment, I’m in therapy. I wake up every single day grateful I’ve got another chance to live a good life. To be a good dad, to be a good son. Please, that’s the truth. That’s my story. I want to go home now.”

“Soon. But that’s only part of your story. After you died on that rope, your father cut you down, and he pulled that rope away from your neck. He did CPR, and he pushed his breath into you.”

“He’s a paramedic, and he knew what to do. My mom got the portable defibrillator. They had to shock me twice.”

“And using that machine, they pulled you back into this world.”

“Yes. They saved my life.”

“You took your life,” Clara corrected, but gently. “What we need to know is what happened between the time you took your life and your parents pulled you back into this world.”

“I—I wasn’t breathing.”

“Yes, we know. Tell us what you saw in those few precious minutes.”

“I was clinically dead.”

Patience, Clara reminded herself. They always needed her patience.

“It’s very important, Zach. What did you see, hear, even feel during those minutes? Where did you go?”

He wet his lips, swallowed. “I was on the floor, and when the ambulance came … You want to know if I had an afterlife experience?”

“You gave up this life, and only came back into it through human intervention. Tell us what you saw, heard, felt before that human intervention. Then we can let you go.”

He looked away from her, looked toward the camera and the man behind it.

Both his body and his voice shook. “You’re recording this.”

“Of course. It’s very important, and we need to hear your story in your own words. In your own voice. Then you can go home again.”

They always clung to the idea that home meant here, on this worldly plain. That was the trick this artificial life played on them.

“I’m not really sure. I was so out of it for a while after. I thought I heard voices, but I couldn’t tell what they were saying.”

“Did you listen, Zach? Did you listen close?”

“I don’t exactly remember. I … had a dream.”

“A dream?” She glanced back at Sam. This was new. “Tell us about the dream.”

“I was a little boy and playing with the dog. With Hetty. My grandpa’s dog. He had lots of acres, and always planted a big garden. He had chickens, and there was a creek. He taught me to fish. I was at Grandpa’s, playing with the dog. Everything was bright with summer, and everything was good. I didn’t have anything to worry about.”

“Has your grandpa passed this life, Zach?”

“He died two years ago.”

“Did you hear him call to you?”

“I don’t know. I was playing with the dog. The dog they had when I was a kid. I think I heard the chickens, and the creek bubbling.”

“You were happy there. Peaceful there.”

“I loved going there. I take Ben over to see Grandma when I can.” Zach kept his gaze locked on hers. Fear lived in it as she smiled. “She still keeps chickens, and Ben likes to see them.”

“You dreamed of a place where you were happy, peaceful, carefree. Where you knew you were safe and loved.”

Tears filled her eyes at the beauty of it. They thickened in her voice, spilled into her heart. That heart sang hallelujahs.

“You dreamed that wonder, that peace, during those precious minutes before you were dragged back into this life.”

“I think. I don’t know. Maybe later, in the hospital. I don’t know.”

Enraptured, Clara shoved his doubts aside, because she knew. Even with his great sin, he’d been welcomed into the next life and shown love.

“That’s a beautiful story, Zach. I’ve never heard one so beautiful, so inspiring. It’s a story I’ll hold in my own heart forever. Thank you for sharing it with us.”

“I need to go home now. Please. I need to go home.”

“Of course you do.”

She walked over to the sink to scrub her hands, put on her gloves.

He screamed when she hooked up the tubes. Begged and wept and cursed. She felt sorrow. Sorrow that he didn’t understand they were setting him free. Sending him back to that happy, peaceful dream.

But his story kept her heart, her very soul lifted and joyful.

After the blood ran out of him, when the color and the false life left his body, she gently removed his glasses.

They would go in the box, and she would think of them as a remembrance of a man who’d atoned, and whose homecoming was, even now, filled with the light of a summer day.

“Don’t you cry now, babe.”

“They’re good tears, doll. Tears of gratitude for the beauty he gave us. For knowing he’s at peace again. A little boy, playing with a dog on an endless summer day.”

Overcome, she leaned against Sam. “No one ever gave us a story like that before. I can get discouraged when they can’t or won’t tell us anything at all. Now, after this. I’m lifted, Sam. The gift he gave us, the gift we’ve given him? It lifts me.”

She laid a hand on her heart before they labeled the bags of blood, stored them. Before they cleaned and sterilized the medical equipment.

Looking at the fragile flesh and bone in the hospital bed, Clara pictured Zach’s freed soul welcomed into his reward. And considered the job well done.

“Now, I’ve got to get some laundry going or we’ll be working in our altogether. I’ll make us a nice lunch before I go to work.”

“I’m on nights again. Couple more weeks of it. I sure do miss sleeping beside my woman.”

“And she misses you.”

“But I guess it gives me enough time to take care of his earthly remains.”

“That’d be best, since you’ve got the day for it. If you’re still busy with it, I’ll leave you a sandwich from last night’s chicken.”

“Appreciate that, but don’t you forget to come in and kiss me goodbye.”

“Here’s one for now.” She caught his face in her hands and kissed him. “And I’m saving a better one for goodbye.”

When she went out, Sam hauled Zach’s body up and over his shoulder. He went through the next door into the small workshop.

Clara’s dead husband had liked building things. Clara had kept all his tools, and kept them neat as could be.

The room was a little tight for the work Sam did there, but he made do.

He dumped the body on the worktable, on the plastic sheeting already prepared. He turned on the Bluetooth speaker Clara had given him for Christmas.

Bless her heart, she knew how he loved his music.

He put on his playlist, then the rubber apron. He shoved his feet into the old galoshes, secured them. He put on the plastic cap—though he’d shower and shampoo good when he finished the work. He added goggles and the long rubber gloves.

He picked up the bone saw.

He didn’t mind this duty, or the mess. His father had been a butcher, and what was on the worktable was just meat. What counted had gone to his grandfather’s, after all.

He turned on the saw, and sang along with Rihanna as he got to work.