The screen switched to a high school boy with a pinched face and lively eyes. He was dressed in an orange life vest, a damp white T-shirt that clung to his muscular upper arms, and a University of Virginia baseball cap. "We were paddling downstream of the Willey when we saw two shapes near the cement wall above us. We both thought that was weird 'cause you can't stop your car on that bridge just to hang out. It was hard to see much, but the moon was pretty bright and it looked like one guy was kind of supporting a second guy. All of a sudden, we see the one guy lean the second guy against the edge of the wall and--bam!--the second guy is falling through the air!" He shook his head in disbelief. "Guy didn't make a sound--just hit the water like a freakin' cannonball. That's the part that tripped us out. He didn't scream. It was like he was already dead."
The boy removed his cap, raked his hands through his blond hair, and then replaced the cap and glanced over at his friend. "Connor and I busted our asses to reach him. We figured no way he survived that fall, but we had to see if we could do anything."
The reporter, who looked as though he had been up for hours and had already consumed several pots of coffee, jammed the microphone beneath the nose of the second boy. "I understand you're both trained in lifesaving techniques. How would you describe Mr. Newcombe's condition when you pulled him from the water?" he asked, his eyes bright with purported interest.
In a gesture identical to his friend's, the boy named Connor ran his hand through a tousled nest of dark hair. He seemed reluctant to look at the camera. "First we had to get him to shore. He was floating face down when we got to him so I flipped him over, ditched my kayak, and swam him to the bank. Man, he didn't look good. He was cold and his lips were kinda blue," he added glumly, then brightened. "But Neil and I had him breathin' by the time the ambulance came."
"How were you able to alert the authorities?" the reporter asked with wide-eyed intensity.
Connor smirked. "Neil had his cell in a Ziploc. He's totally whipped by his girlfriend and never goes anywhere without it in case she calls."
Neil jostled his friend's shoulder with his fist and the screen switched back to the studio and the impassive anchorwoman.
"Newcombe was taken to CJW Medical Center where he remains in critical condition. Authorities received an anonymous tip that a dark-colored SUV was seen crossing the bridge seconds after Newcombe was pushed into the river. If you have any information regarding the vehicle or any other details relating to this incident, please call Crime Stoppers at the number below."
A band of white numbers on a blue field sprang up beneath the anchorwoman's red suit jacket. After a few seconds, the numbers disappeared and a commercial for the new line of Ford vehicles roared onto the screen. Cooper turned off the television.
"Someone tried to kill Reed Newcombe," Nathan said numbly.
Cooper had almost forgotten that she had the phone pressed to her ear. Shutting her gaping mouth, she tried to digest the information. "This keeps getting worse!" she finally spluttered.
"I know," Nathan replied softly. "Reed must have known something Brooke's killer found threatening. We've been following the right trail. Just too slowly." He sighed. "We couldn't make enough sense of this mess to keep someone from being pushed off a bridge."
Cooper's stomach turned. She fought back the wave of nausea that rose in her throat and moved into the kitchen, where she put the phone down on the counter and drank quickly from the sink tap.
"... To talk to the police this morning," Nathan was saying when she gripped the receiver once again. "Cooper? Are you there?"
Cooper wiped her mouth with a dish towel. "Yes, sorry. Just give me a sec. It's a bit of a shock...this news." She turned the tap on cold, put the cloth under the stream, and pressed it to her forehead. "We saw three people who were mighty unhappy with Reed at last night's game. Lynda, Cindi, and briefly, Vance Maynard." Cooper struggled to think straight. "Did you just say something about the police?"
"Yeah. I'm going in today to tell them everything we know, even though I bet they're going to be pretty ticked at us for conducting our own investigation."
Cooper's gut constricted again. "Ugh," she groaned, reaching for the coffee carafe. Coffee always settled her stomach. "I am so ready to pass the buck to them. In the beginning, I thought we were doing Wesley a service, but now I feel like we haven't helped anyone. And we still don't know what's happened to Hazel!"
"I know. I'm sorry, Cooper," Nathan apologized, as though he had forced her to investigate Brooke's murder in the first place. "I'll call you after the police are done with me."
The workday dragged by. Cooper did her job mechanically, her hands as adept as always, but her mind drifted from one worry to another. She wasn't surprised when Nathan called to inform her that she would need to make an official statement to the authorities as soon as possible and that she should prepare herself for a stern berating from the officer in charge.
Nathan was right. All seven members of the Sunrise Bible Study group were directed to appear before Investigator McNamara at the police headquarters at six o'clock sharp. They did as they were told, even though Bryant grumbled about missing one of his live weather reports, and provided explicit statements on their confusing findings, which they then signed. However, none of the group was allowed to leave the small conference room where they had been herded until Investigator McNamara, the officer in charge of the Hughes case, gave them a sharp rebuke.
When McNamara was finished dressing them down, he signaled for them to leave. He remained seated at the head of the table, sifting through their statements. Trish pushed back her chair, hesitated, and then raised her hand. "Officer? Sir?"
"What is it, Ms. Tyler?" The officer looked weary.
"Will you be checking on Hazel Wharton? We're all deeply concerned about her well-being. Her name has come up time and time again in our....We're just afraid for her."
Nathan and Quinton nodded in agreement.
"Please," Savannah added gently, also standing. "We truly meant no harm. We were seeking to aid our friend Wesley. He's been in our church family for a long time and has done many good things for our community. We are certain is innocent." She reached out, her fingers fumbling against the backs of several chairs as she made her way to the police officer. As she approached the end of the row, her hands lingered helplessly in the air. Automatically, McNamara stood and stretched his arm forward so that Savannah could grasp it. "If he was your friend," Savannah continued. "I believe you would do the same."
Cooper was afraid to breathe lest the officer look away from Savannah's blind, but searching stare.
"Ma'am, we're doin' our best," the officer answered, passing Savannah's hand to Jake. "I know you've got your hearts in the right place, but your heads are all mixed up. If your friend
is
innocent, and I mean
if
, you're chasin' after a cold and calculating killer. Now, forgive me if I question your ability to handle the situation if you should come face-to-face with this person." He yanked authoritatively on his gun holster, reminding Cooper of a cowboy preparing for a quick draw. "Job said,
I get my knowledge from afar; I will ascribe justice to my Maker.
Trust your Maker, folks. And trust us. We'll check on Hazel and dozens of other issues related to this case. That's all, ya hear?"
"Investigator McNamara quotes Scripture." Savannah smiled as the lawman strutted off. "I find that most comforting."
"Personally, I'd find Dairy Queen comforting right about now," Quinton mumbled, rubbing his temples.
Nathan slung an arm around his chubby friend. "Me too. A cherry dip cone would sure hit the spot."
"What about dinner?" Trish sounded shocked.
"If you get a banana split, it'll be big enough to count as both dinner
and
dessert," Jake assured her.
"Well, I'm not in the mood for a treat," Trish sulked. "I feel like a little girl in trouble and my parents have told me how disappointed they are by my behavior. I always lost my appetite when I'd been naughty and I've lost it now!"
Bryant grabbed Trish's hand and began pulling her toward the exit. "Come on, lady. I'll buy you a Diet Coke. I'm sure you can manage to swallow that." He waved his hand toward the police department building. "This was all show and bluster and it worked. We've been chastised and we'll stay out of things now. Except for praying for Wesley and Hazel and now Reed, that's all we can do."
Murmuring in agreement, the group of friends headed for their cars. Nathan caught Cooper's elbow as she opened Cherry-O's door.
"Are you still up for dinner and a movie on Saturday?" he asked, his face doleful. "I mean, if you change your mind because this whole thing has made you sorry you ever bumped into me that fateful Sunday, I'd understand." He dropped his eyes and stared at his big feet.
Cooper moved a fraction closer, enjoying the feeling of his hand on her arm. Despite her plans to take things slow with Nathan, she knew that she wanted something more from him than a casual relationship. The proximity of his body, the scent of his aftershave, and the sincerity in his voice forced her to recognize that she was attracted to him--that she wanted to spend time alone with him, and soon. Above all else, she wanted him to kiss her, to claim her as his own.
"No matter what, I'd never regret running into you," she murmured. "And yes, we're still on for Saturday." She smiled up at him.
The heaviness evaporated from Nathan's eyes and his hand slid down Cooper's arm, sending jolts of warmth through the right side of her body. His fingertips closed around hers and then he suddenly leaned forward, his mouth parted, and he grazed her lips with his. Drawing back, he winked at her. "Last one to the Dairy Queen buys the popcorn Saturday!" He then squeezed her hand and hopped into Sweet Pea.
Cooper got into her car, brushed her butterfly pin with her right hand, and tried to slow the thumping of her heart. Though she had desired that kiss, she had been completely unprepared for her wish to be granted that very moment.
What a day
, she thought and allowed thoughts of Reed Newcombe and the visit to the police department to be replaced by fantasies of a caramel sundae and the possibility of another, more lingering, kiss.
"I know we planned on a movie," Nathan began nervously as he opened the front door of his Fan district row house. "Oh, you look nice!" he said, interrupting himself as he noticed her pale yellow sundress. "And you've got lovely feet, too."
Cooper flushed, embarrassed at her vanity over her polished toes. She had bought two pairs of summer sandals, one in a straw brown and another in black. In her room, she had slipped on the straw-colored sandals, pivoting her feet this way and that in the wall-length mirror attached to the inside of her closet door as she admired her new shoes and still-pristine pedicure.
"Well, it
is
Saturday," she answered, fidgeting with her purse. "No work boots required. Now what were you going to say about the movie?"
Nathan gestured to his porch swing. They both sat down, steadying themselves as it lurched a bit, making them laugh.
Brandishing a slip of paper, Nathan immediately grew serious. "I haven't been able to stop thinking about our investigation," he began sheepishly. "I know we've entrusted our information to the authorities and that should be that, but I can't shake the feeling that Hazel's still in danger. What if the police haven't been to see her?"
Cooper shrugged. "I'm sure they've checked on her. Investigator McNamara seemed sincere
and
pretty darn capable of handling this muddle."
Nathan nodded and twisted the paper in his hands nervously. "I don't know why I didn't think of this before, but late last night, while I was playing a civilization-building game on the computer, it hit me! I could do a reverse lookup using Hazel's home phone number in order to find her address."
"Come again?"
"All the major search engines have them." Nathan waved his hands in animation. "It's the online version of the white and yellow pages, but you can do more creative searches too. I looked up Hazel's phone number online and then typed it in the reverse search box along with the city and state. Only one address result popped up." He offered Cooper the paper. "This is it."
Cooper opened her hand, but didn't even glance at the address scrawled in his nearly illegible writing. Instead, she stared into Nathan's kind eyes. She longed to reach up and stroke his chin and have him kiss her again as he did in the parking lot the other day. However, she could see that he was deeply troubled and was unlikely to enjoy himself on their date until they visited Hazel Wharton. She looked at the address.
"She's close by--in Church Hill. So let's skip the movie and pay her a visit," she suggested.
Nathan beamed. "Hazel's still the key to this whole puzzle," he reminded Cooper. "I'd sleep better at night if I knew she was keeping an eye out for bad guys." He took Cooper's hand and pulled her gently out of the porch swing. "Besides, I wouldn't mind finding out what was wrong with that famous Capital City statement of hers. Seems like a whole lot of evil originated with that document."
"Nathan," Cooper warned. "It sounds like you're going to stir the pot again. We're not supposed to be investigating."
Opening Sweet Pea's passenger door, Nathan gave her a boyish grin. "I won't get us into trouble. I promise. And afterward, we'll go to an early dinner at Strawberry Street Cafe."
"That's the place that has the soup and salad bar set up in a claw-foot bathtub, isn't it?"
