The Runaway Pastor's Wife (43 page)

“He’s a maniac! I told you the pastor was nuts!
But no one listened to me!” Darlene ranted, hustling after the camera crew.

David groaned under his breath. He watched as
the cameraman neared the platform. Moaning louder for the camera, Chet tried to
sit up. “Help me, honey—I’m afraid the pastor may have given me a concussion.”

“I’ve never witnessed anything so ridiculous in
my entire life!” Caroline paced back and forth across the family room carpet.
“I’ve a good mind to rush over there and give that man a piece of my mind!”

They had arrived home only moments earlier. Pete
Nardozzi escorted them home after a parishioner called him to the scene at
church. He joined them after placing a few phone calls from the privacy of
David’s study.

“They’ve already released Chet from the
hospital. His buddy Dwight wasn’t quite so lucky. They’ll be plucking colored
glass out of his, uh—
posterior
for another couple of days.” Pete tried
to hide his smile.

“Never in my life have I seen such an ungodly
display of stupidity.” Caroline continued. “To think that this church could
have that many raving lunatics! Well, I can guarantee you one thing, David
McGregor—that man will have a lot of explaining to do when he comes face to
face with his Maker—
if
the good Lord lets him in those pearly gates.”
She stormed out of the room, ranting all the way into the kitchen.

“Daddy, did you really punch Mr. Harrison’s
lights out?” Jessica asked, her soulful eyes searching his.

He lifted her onto his lap. “I’m afraid so,
princess. He said some unkind things, and unfortunately, I overreacted. It was
a very
wrong
way for me to respond, and I’m sorry for what I did. Very
sorry.”

 Her eyes grew even wider, her fingers gently
caressing his face. “That’s okay, Daddy. Somebody needed to teach him a
lesson.”

“No, sweetheart, it
isn’t
okay. It’s
never okay to hit somebody—no matter who it is and no matter what the
circumstances.”

“David, don’t be so hard on yourself,” Pete
interrupted. “Chet was out of control and had to be stopped.”

“That may be, but not this way. I had no
business decking him like that. And in front of the whole church? I don’t know
what came over me! What kind of a message does that send to my church family?”
He hugged his daughter. “Sweetheart, why don’t you go see if Gran could use
some help?” She kissed his cheek and scampered out of the room.

Pete looked him straight in the eye. “You did
the same thing I would have done, so enough of the guilt. Got it?”

The house phone rang. Pete grabbed it. “Officer
Nardozzi.” Pause. “Sure, Max. He’s right here, just a minute.” He handed the
phone to David.

“Max!”

“Dad? Why did Mr. Nardozzi answer the phone?”

“It’s a long story. One you’ll probably enjoy,
come to think of it. But I’ll tell you all about it later when you and Mom get
home. Where are you?”

“We had an agreement, Dad. Remember?”

“Oh sure, I know. I forgot. Are you all right?”

 “I’m fine, but my transportation just died.”

“What happened? You okay?”

“I think I just ran the life out of it. It was
old to begin with and I’ve put a lot of miles on it.”

“Can you get to a mechanic?”

“I’m at a truck stop right now and there’s a
mechanic here, but he’s really busy. I’m hoping he can find out what’s the matter
with it. I don’t know how long it’s going to take. I’m really bummed.”

“I know, Max. But take it easy, okay? It’s
probably good for you to stop and get some sleep. Is there a motel near by?”

“I think so. The thing is,
Dad . . . I’m, uh, I’m a little nervous, I guess.”

“Say the word and I’ll come to you. Maybe that’s
the best thing anyway.”

He didn’t answer right away. “I don’t know. Give
me a chance to think for a little while.”

“Whatever you say, sport.” David covered the
receiver with his hand. “Pete—any way you can find out where this call is
coming from?” he whispered.

“No problem.”

David gave him the thumbs-up. “Are you still
there, Max?”

“Yeah, sure, Dad. I’m pretty tired. Think I’ll
do like you said and get some sleep. I’ll call you back in a couple of hours.”

“Okay, just be careful.”

“Love you, Dad.”

“Same here, big guy.”

He carefully hung up the phone and looked at
Pete.

“Just press the star button and the numbers six
and nine.”

”Okay.” David punched the keys. A long distance
number appeared. “Wow, like magic! I didn’t know you could do that. Okay, so
what state has an area code with 719?

Pete worked his Blackberry, pulling up a
directory. “It looks like area code 719 includes
Pueblo
and
Colorado
Springs
.”

“Max is in
Colorado
?”
David asked in disbelief.

Pete whistled. “That kid of yours has covered a
lot
of territory. I’ll get someone to track down that number. We can pinpoint his
exact location. Shouldn’t take but a minute.” He activated the shoulder mic
which squawked to life. A few moments later, he had his answer. “He’s at
Bailey’s Truck Stop in
Boone
,
Colorado
.
That’s about twenty miles east of
Pueblo
off
State Road 96.”

David stood up. “
Boone
,
Colorado
.
Pueblo
 . . . What’s
Annie doing in—” He slapped the heel of his hand against his forehead.
“Christine! Why didn’t I think of it before? That’s got to be it! Pete, I know
where she is!”

CHAPTER 33

Southeast Colorado

Max headed to the motel adjacent to the truck
stop. A flashing neon sign caught his eye.

HOT HOMECOOKED MEALS

After
living on pretzels, Little Debbie Oatmeal Cakes, and Big Macs, he was starving
for something more substantial. He headed straight for the diner, his taste
buds already gearing up for meatloaf, friend chicken, or maybe even a thick
juicy steak.

The blast of warm air knocked the chill off his
bones as he entered the spacious, austere diner. Max looked for an empty booth
finding most of them occupied with truckers. He slipped into one on the end,
sliding across the red vinyl seat.

A waitress brought him a glass of water and a
menu, along with a quick rundown of the specials. He scanned the menu, deciding
on the fried chicken dinner with mashed potatoes, gravy, macaroni and cheese,
tossed salad with blue cheese dressing, and biscuits.

“Oh, and save me a slice of your cherry pie for
dessert?”

“Sure thing. Anything to drink?”

“Coffee. Black. Thanks.”

“No problem. Be right back with your salad.”

He sat back in the booth, stretching his long
legs beneath the table. He rubbed his face brusquely hoping to awaken his mind
enough to enjoy the meal. Sipping the glass of water, he pulled the folded map
of
Colorado
from
the pocket in his jacket and spread it out across the table. Even if the
mechanic could make time to look at the old van, he knew he couldn’t afford a
costly repair bill. Frustrated and weary, he breathed a silent prayer for
direction.

With his eyes still closed, he couldn’t help
overhearing the animated conversation in the booth across the narrow aisle.

“Yes, I understand, ma’am. But I am not
in
Weber Creek. I’m the sheriff
from
Weber Creek, and I’m calling you from
another location. I’m on my way
back
to Weber Creek. All I’m  asking is
how much longer you expect the phone lines to be down in that area.”

Max peeked sideways to see who was talking. A
uniformed sheriff sat alone in the booth talking on a cell phone.

“No, the phones here are fine. That’s not the
problem—what? No, I’m not on a pay phone, I’m calling from my cell phone.
What?”

An idea took shape even as Max continued to
eavesdrop.

“Okay. No, forget it. Never mind!” The sheriff
snapped off the phone and blew out an exasperated sigh.

“Excuse me?”

The sheriff jerked his head toward Max.

“I couldn’t help overhearing. You’re heading for
Weber Creek, right?”

“Trying to, anyway. On my way back from a
conference in
Amarillo
. I live in Weber Creek, but this storm hit
pretty hard over there. Power’s out, phones are down. Why do you ask?”

The waitress brought Max’s meal, setting it out
before him. He dodged around her attempting to carry on his conversation.
“Actually, I’m headed there myself, but my van broke down. And I was
wondering . . . I was thinking maybe, could I hitch a ride with
you? Is it legal to hitchhike with a cop?”

The sheriff laughed. “Sure, no problem.”

“Awesome! Thank you! Thank you so much,
Officer!”

“I’m Brett Patterson.” The sheriff stood,
extending his hand to Max. “Mind if I join you?”

“No! Not at all. I’m Max Mc—” he hesitated,
shaking the sheriff’s hand. Relieved he hadn’t said his whole name, he quickly
changed the subject. “Can I buy you something to eat? Are you hungry? This
chicken is outstanding. Want some?”

Patterson waved him off. “No, but thanks. I’ll
just have a refill on my coffee.” He looked over Max’s shoulder for the
waitress. “And take your time. We’re in no hurry.”

Max bit into the crunchy chicken breast,
savoring its flavor. “Oh man, this stuff is too good,” he said around a
mouthful. “I haven’t had anything but McDonald’s and Dunkin’ Donuts for days.
This—” he added, waving the chicken for emphasis, “is
great
.”

“Where are you from? What brings you to Weber
Creek?”

“
Florida
. My
mom.”

“You drove all the way from
Florida
?”

“Yes, sir. It’s been a haul, let me tell you.”

“I guess it has. Your mom lives in Weber Creek?”

“No, sir. Just visiting.” Max took another
mouthful wondering how much he should say.

The waitress slid his pie across the table
toward him. “I’ll scarf this down then we can hit the road. Oh, except I need
to make a phone call if that’s okay.”

Seminole,
Florida

Pete Nardozzi looked up as the bell on the door
of the donut shop rang again.

“Hey PJ. Any word from Ma—” Megan Tanner shot a
look at Nardozzi, then the donut maker, then back at the officer.

Nardozzi looked back and forth between the two
of them.

Megan smiled brightly at him then turned again
to PJ. “Uh—oh hey, I just came by to, uh, to pick up those—”