Collateral Damage. Hannah Alexander
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And it was the very community that was never the same after Sarah was gone. The weight of seventeen years dropped from his shoulders for a few seconds, and he recalled with exquisite clarity the impact of Sarah’s presence in his life—and the dark pit that remained in his heart after Mark Russell moved his family away to St. Louis. By the time Nick was in college, he heard they’d moved to Sikeston so Mark could take a job as pastor of a congregation again.
After a brief hesitation, Sarah said, “I don’t understand. Didn’t the investigator blame the explosions on gas leaks from faulty pipes?”
“Two gas leaks in two days? Not likely. The investigator was a new kid, not only wet behind the ears, but as slick as if he’d just hatched. His father’s a local judge, and the kid—his name’s Chaz Collins—missed some inspection reports that showed no cracks where he indicated. He’s off the case, and right now there’s no one to fill his shoes. The sheriff’s busy chasing meth labs, and you know Jolly Mill’s always been low priority.”
“Chaz inspected both explosions?”
“Yep. He wouldn’t look me in the eye when I spoke with him.”
“Could he have had something to do with it? You know, start a fire, cause an explosion so he could make the judgment and prove his worth?”
“And kill people in the process? Chaz and his family attend Dad’s church.”
“Just because he’s a churchgoer doesn’t mean he’s a good boy.”
Nick hesitated. Emma was on her way here and Sarah was following her; they’d find out the worst as soon as they arrived. “The problem is, Sarah, Chaz is nowhere to be found.”
There was a soft intake of breath.
“There’s a search under way. His parents called yesterday, and they’re frantic.”
“You think he did find something incriminating?” Sarah asked.
“Judging by his behavior, I’m almost sure of it.”
For a moment Sarah didn’t speak, and Nick recalled her tendency to choose her words carefully. In that way she was very different from her twin, who would chatter to anyone and everyone in school—Shelby, the popular twin.
“You think someone might have threatened him,” Sarah said.
“Seems possible.”
“A gas leak could have developed after the last inspection,” she said.
Nick shook his head, though of course she couldn’t see him. “Leo Larner constructed that conference building above code thirty years ago. Dad even did his own inspection before each event. He’s cautious that way. There were no faulty pipes.”
There was a soft sigh. “But why our parents?”
“I don’t know yet. You know they always stay to clean up after the others leave, but Dad just happened to get a call on his cell while they were working, and walked outside—that building never had good reception. That’s when the place exploded. It’s eating at him.”
“Who called?”
“He said it sounded like someone crying, but when Gerard Vance—he’s an ex-cop—had a check run on the number, it was from a burn phone. No name connected to it.”
There was another long silence. “So it was an attack on either Mom or Dad or Aunt Peg by someone who definitely wanted to spare Edward. But why him specifically? Does he have any ideas?”
“No, and it’s torturing him.”
“Why the nurse in the infirmary the next day?”
“All I can figure is that she might’ve been close enough to look out her window and see something before the explosion at the conference center.”
“So she could’ve been killed because she was an eye witness?”
“It’s all wild conjecture at this point. She wasn’t even from here—she was from Texas—so unless someone followed her here...I just don’t know. It’s why I got involved, and Gerard Vance is helping me. He was the nurse’s employer.”
More silence.
He gave Sarah time to assimilate what he’d told her, then frowned as the silence continued. “Hello? Are we disconnected?”
“I’m...here. I’m trying to grasp it all, and I can’t yet.” Sarah sighed. Sniffed. It was a wet sniff that told him how hard this was hitting her, and then it hit him, too. Again. As it did several times a day. Mom was gone. “I know Edward’s got to be torn up about this.”
“He just got out of the house for the first time last Sunday. Your cousin and her friends are all worried about him, bringing food.” Carmen Delaney, Mrs. Russell’s cousin, had been good about keeping friends and neighbors abreast of how the Russells were doing since they left Jolly Mill.
Carmen was also the one who’d broken the news about Emma’s birth nine months after their family left Jolly Mill. There were still moments when Nick wondered about the timing of her birth, and tried to weave his mind through the cloudy memories of Sarah’s twin, Shelby, on the night of the party. Nothing had ever come of his attempts. “I hear from Carmen that Emma’s an impulsive, intelligent, inquisitive kid.”
Sarah gave a soft groan. “Emma. She’s...amazing. She’s also a handful. I’m afraid you’ll find out what I mean soon.”
“Headstrong, obviously. I can’t believe she would let you worry like this.”
“We had a little spat last night, and that doesn’t often happen. In her note she told me she needed more information about how Mom and Dad died. I haven’t been able to reach her on her cell.”
He leaned back in the chair, focusing, for a moment, on the gentle wave of Sarah’s voice—recalling her quiet but welcome presence from their teen years. That voice had a musical quality that always soothed the soul, though he couldn’t miss the distress in it now. “The girl has her mother’s stubborn streak.”
There was a soft gasp, and then, “What?”
“Sorry, Sarah. I didn’t mean to diss your mother. I just remembered my mom always talked about Lydia Russell and her determination to get things done. Mom admired her.”
“Oh. Thank you. Yes, Dad always said Shelby and I inherited Mom’s strong will.”
“As did Emma, obviously.”
“I need to get her back home to Sikeston,” Sarah said.
“Meaning I’ve frightened you.”
“You’d better believe it. I can’t believe the sheriff’s department isn’t even investigating.”
“He has very little manpower with all the budget cuts, and there’s a lot for him to cover in our county. Don’t worry, Gerard’s got a good eye on things, and if Emma shows up I’ll take care of her.”
What was it about Sarah’s vulnerable presence over the phone that brought out his old protective instincts? What was it about connecting with her that made him see the man—or lesser man—he’d become? He wanted to be that former man, who could be counted on for help, who actually wanted to help instead of search for ulterior motives behind every word. Divorce and the lawsuit had changed him, and he disliked the curmudgeon he’d become.
“Sarah? I’m serious about this. You’re not alone.”
There was another sniff. “Thanks, Nick. I’m glad I called.”
He closed his eyes at the memories Sarah’s voice resurrected. It sounded as if he might have company at any time, and he couldn’t help remembering her eyes—the color of the ocean on a cloudy day—and the tenderness of her heart, which she’d taken such pains to conceal behind her dyed-black hair, Goth makeup and clothing as a teenager.
Why