Part 30 (1/2)
Ana said, ”I know he's married to your officer, but shouldn't his lawyer be here doing this?”
”His lawyer pa.s.sed kindergarten and thinks he gets a sympathetic jury.”
Ana snorted. ”And why do I want to cut this guy a deal? You know how I am about kids in danger.”
”I do know.” And she knew he blazed with that same fire. ”But I think he can turn it around. The fall was accidental, negligence but not intention. Both Sam's and Eli's medical records indicate fragile bone syndrome, mild enough it hadn't been picked up until now. Sam hasn't been hurting him and won't if he's clean.”
”You know how that goes.” She caught herself. ”I didn't mean-”
He pulled a side smile. ”I do. Every day.”
”Why do I always feel like you have the upper hand?”
”I have no idea.”
”I mean you look so macho and you're really so soft.”
”Guess that's it.”
”Only you seem so soft, when you're really a toreador.”
”Too flashy.”
She smiled. ”See my dilemma?”
”I do.”
She c.o.c.ked her head. ”How's Jay?”
”He's good. Still dating your cousin?”
”They'll fly that holding pattern until one of them runs out of fuel.”
”Or gets permission to land.”
Ana folded her arms over her chest. ”You think what Sam gave us is good?”
”If he can make an ID, it'll be better. But even if he testifies, it's enough.”
”Okay. I'll have to run it by DA Cutler, but if there's a meth lab out there, I'm guessing he'll deal.”
”He'll deal.”
Jonah wouldn't tell Sam until the deal was stamped, but he'd bought him a reprieve, given Sue the chance she wanted to put the mess back together. And it felt good. In spite of statistics, he was a personal believer in resurrection. He had to be.
Twenty.
Make my joy complete by being of the same mind, maintaining the same love, united in spirit, intent on one purpose.-PHILIPPIANS 2:2, NEW AMERICAN STANDARD BIBLE Tia looked up when Miles walked in for the second time since his meltdown almost four weeks ago. Not even a month, yet it seemed like years since Jonah had taken her home, dazed and injured, before he had trashed her psyche as thoroughly as Miles her store.
Her throat locked in whatever greeting she might have managed as Miles made his hulking way between the less crowded displays. Dressed in a pressed corduroy jacket and knife-edge khakis over s.h.i.+ned leather loafers, he avoided even the brush of an elbow to a shelf. Others should be so careful.
Certain that Miles was the least of anyone's concerns, even-no especially-Jonah's, she looked back at the supply list she'd been compiling. It was all she could do to fake an interest in oils and tinctures, paraffin, glycerin, and beeswax. The question she asked the woman who'd called the Hopeline had played in her own head ever since. How do you want to spend the time left you?
She wanted to help people the way she'd helped that woman, to listen and understand, to break down hurt and guilt and fear, and restore hope. Yet she'd been so bound up, she had only used that gift stingily on her dial-a-prayer line. If she were called to account today, she'd say, ”Lord, I buried my talent in the sand because I didn't believe it was good enough.”
She bit her lower lip and watched Miles, trapped inside his fears, staring at the only candles he considered safe, dipped tapers bearing no human fingerprints, believing if he wasn't touched, he would not be hurt. Maybe he was right.
He unhooked a pair by the wick that joined them, ironically the very part she had held to hang them. He brought them to the counter. ”I would like these, please.”
”Sure, Miles.”
He pulled his payment from the wallet, laid the money on the counter, and drew his hand back. She wanted to promise he was safe from her, but how could anyone really keep from touching another life?
She gave him change. ”I don't suppose you want them wrapped.”
”Yes. Lots of purple ribbon. And the moon sticker.”
She raised her eyebrows. ”Okay.”
”And you can have this back.” With a finger, he slid her Hopeline card across the counter.
Her heart sank. So much for gifts and talents ...
”I memorized the number.”
She stared at the card, then looked up. For one moment he met her eyes. A smile flickered over her mouth. ”It's good 24/7.”
He picked up the candles. ”Your leg is better?”
”Good as new.”
He walked to the door and paused, started to say something, then he went out. She looked down at the card, picked it up, and held it to her chest, feeling her heart beat faintly beneath. Lord Lord.
”Jonah.” Ana's voice came through his Bluetooth.
”Hey, Ana.” They hadn't talked since striking Sam's deal nearly three weeks ago, and he hoped that wasn't going south this close to the trial.
”Are you driving?”
”I am.”
”Do you want to pull over?”
Everything suddenly slowed down. His Bronco in slow motion, the scenery crawling by. His pulse and breaths felt minutes apart, his limbs suspended in water. ”What's up?”
”Sam won't be going to trial, Jonah. I'm sorry. He's dead.”