Normally Debbie Ann might have muted her phone for a few seconds while she put out the radio call. This time she didn’t. An oversight, or did she guess how reassuring I’d find it, hearing her ordering all units to the Trinity parking lot?
“I feel like a sitting duck here.” I was sprawled awkwardly over the Twinmobile’s center console, covered with tiny little glass beads, with my nose buried in someone’s clay-covered baseball socks.
“Keep your head down!” she ordered.
“And let the shooter sneak up to my car and finish me? I’m going to start the car and put some distance between me and whoever’s out there.”
“Maybe I should ask the chief what he wants you to do,” Debbie Ann said. “Sammy’s only a minute or two away.”
But my gut told me that safety lay in flight. I listened to my gut. The first thing it told me was to get a weapon, and for a second or two I groped on the floor. Then I reminded myself that the only weapon I was likely to find was Josh’s bright orange metal bat, which wouldn’t be all that useful against a shooter. Okay, if I couldn’t arm myself I needed to get out of there. I counted to three before pulling myself upright again and gripping the steering wheel. I looked wildly around as I started the car. No one in sight. I put the car in gear and took off. Since the church was on my left, it was a pretty good bet that the bullets had come from that direction, so I floored the pedal and steered toward the parking lot’s exit, sending gravel flying behind me.
I hesitated when I reached the road. Homeward? Or back toward town? Town, definitely. I didn’t much like the idea of running into the shooter on the long, lonely country road between here and home. In town there were more likely to be lights and witnesses. Besides, the sirens were coming from that direction.
I could hear faint noises coming from the floor on the passenger side of the car, where I’d dropped my phone. I decided to put a little more distance between me and the church before I stopped to pick it up.
I was relieved when, a few blocks later, I spotted a patrol car heading rapidly toward me. I slowed down as it approached, and then, when it zoomed past me toward the church, I stopped by the side of the road and snatched up the phone.
“Meg? Meg? What’s happening? Meg, are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I said to Debbie Ann. “I drove out of the parking lot with no problems, and I just passed a patrol car heading that way. I’m going to turn around and head back to Trinity. I expect by the time I get there every deputy in the department will have arrived, so it should be the safest place in town.”
“Don’t get in their way,” Debbie Ann warned. “And remember, there’s still an active shooter out there.”
I made a cautious U-turn and headed slowly back the way I’d come. Three police cars were already parked in the middle of the lot, lights flashing, and I could see figures bearing flashlights striding around the grounds.
I spotted the chief’s blue sedan near the cluster of police cruisers and drove over to park near it. The driver’s-side door was open and the chief was standing between the door and the body of the car, talking on his radio while his eyes followed the officers.
“She’s here,” he said into the radio. “Meg—you’re okay?”
“I’m fine,” I said. “The Twinmobile, not so much. It’s going to need a new driver’s-side window. When it’s light, I guess I’ll figure out if there are exit wounds on the passenger side or if there are still two bullets rattling around in here.”
“Actually, we can figure that out for you. Although if there are any bullets, they’ll probably be embedded in something, not rattling around.” He picked up the radio handset. “Horace, soon as you get a chance, grab your forensic gear and meet me at Meg’s vehicle. It’s parked right beside mine.”
I heard Horace’s static-ridden “Yes, sir.”
The chief returned the handset to its holder and turned back to me.
“I know you weren’t on duty here at Trinity tonight,” he said. “Since you were at the ballgame and then at Morton’s. What brought you back here?”
“Inability to delegate,” I said. “I should have headed straight home, but since I was passing by anyway, I couldn’t help glancing over, and I spotted someone with a flashlight inside the building. So I pulled into the parking lot to take a closer look and called Debbie Ann to report it, and while I was talking to her, someone fired two shots at me.”
“Speaking of inside—do you have your key to the building with you?”
I nodded and fished in my purse for the separate key ring on which I kept my Trinity keys. My friend Aida Butler, one of the chief’s deputies, was just pulling up, and at the chief’s request I handed her the key ring and showed her which key opened the front door. The chief diverted Vern Shiffley, another deputy, from searching the graveyard and assigned him to go with Aida to clear the inside of the church.
It was slightly disconcerting to see how, after Aida had unlocked the bright red double doors, she and Vern had taken up tactical positions on either side of the gray stone doorway. And then to watch them slam open the doors and step in, guns at the ready, Aida facing right and Vern left, in what looked to my admittedly amateur eyes like a precision tactical maneuver.
Just like on television, I couldn’t help thinking. Which would actually have been rather cool to observe in real life if it had been happening anywhere other than the quiet small-town church where my family and I spent so many peaceful hours.
“Chief?”
Horace had arrived. I turned over my car to him and looked around for a place to sit. The chief waved me toward the front passenger seat of his sedan.
I slumped gratefully into the seat. It had been a long day. But I left the car door open, the better to follow what was going on outside. And I pulled out my phone to update Michael.
“I was just about to call you,” he said. “I was getting a little worried—I thought you’d be home by now.”
“So did I,” I said. “Do you think you could pick me up at Trinity?”
“Actually, Rob and I are already on our way,” he said. “The fire department just sent out a call to all volunteers. Is something on fire? And what are you doing there? And is something wrong with the Twinmobile?”
“No fire that I can see,” I said. “I’m fine. So is the Twinmobile, except that someone shot out the driver’s-side window. When Horace finishes processing it for evidence, I’m going to ask the chief if he can have someone drop it off at Osgood Shiffley’s repair shop. I’d rather not have to explain the missing window to the boys, much less any bullet holes Horace may find in the interior.”
“Agreed—but for heaven’s sake, fill me in.”
So while Rob and Michael raced toward Trinity, I gave him the rundown on my evening. As we talked, I kept an eye on what was happening around me. Flashlight beams revealed where some of the deputies were combing through the woods. The lights inside Trinity let me follow the progress of the inside search. I overheard a deputy reporting to the chief that the lock they’d put on the crypt was still intact. Eventually the chief grew tired of questioning me and asked if I could put him in touch with whoever was supposed to have been serving as Key Holder this evening. Luckily I had the duty roster, complete with the volunteers’ contact information, in my cell phone. The chief strode a few paces away—was he seeking a better view of the church or just getting far enough away from me that I couldn’t eavesdrop while he called the duty Key Holder? I didn’t really care which. I sat back and watched the action.
After a couple of minutes, a fire engine pulled into the parking lot. The skeleton crew manning it began unloading some kind of equipment. I reported this to Michael.
“But there’s still no sign of a fire,” I added. “So I have no idea why they’ve called you out. Surely they’re not going to send unarmed firemen out to search the woods for an active shooter.”
“I suspect they’re going to have us set up the big lights to help with their search,” Michael said.
“That makes sense.” And also gave me a sense of relief that the chief wasn’t sending Michael into danger. “So maybe once you get here, I could take Rob’s car home. Assuming you two can probably get a ride home from one of the other firemen.”
“Absolutely. Just sit tight for a few more minutes—your transportation is on its way. I should hang up now and get the rest of my gear on.”
After we ended the call, I got out of the car and strolled over to where the chief was talking to Vern Shiffley, who had just emerged from the church.
“Anyway, someone was obviously looking pretty hard for something,” Vern was saying. “Every door’s been unlocked—a few forced open. Even closets. But not a lot of ransacking—no drawers turned out or anything like that.”
“So whatever they were looking for isn’t small,” the chief said. “Can you tell if anything was taken?”
“Hard to tell,” Vern said. “Like I said, nothing’s messed up. Pretty darn clean and tidy everywhere. I expect we’re going to have to get some people from the church to look things over to be sure.”
I sighed and closed my eyes. Given how much time I’d been spending at Trinity, I was sure I’d be one of the people asked to help look things over. I hoped tomorrow would do.
“And a lot of easy pickings just left there,” Vern went on. “Stuff that you’d expect any petty thief would snatch right up. Computers, a nice camera. Bottles of communion wine. None of that touched.”
“So our intruder was looking for something in particular,” the chief said.
“But about the only thing missing is the parrot,” Vern said.
“Parrot?” the chief echoed.
“The one the minister had in her office,” Vern explained.
“He’s a toucan,” I said. “And he’s not missing. He’s just not here.”
“He’s completely missing, cage and all,” Vern said.
“Because I took him home last night, after the murder,” I said. “I figured we had enough to worry about here without him underfoot.”
“I remember you said you were doing that,” the chief said. “So let’s not worry about the toucan,” he added, turning back to Vern.
“Uh, yeah. Hang on a sec.” Vern looked embarrassed. He pulled out his radio. “Debbie Ann? Can you cancel the BOLO on the parrot?”