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Bob looked offended. “Who do you think made him drop the gun?” He glanced furtively behind her. “Come on, this way.” He gently pulled her in the opposite direction. She was so relieved to see him that she started weeping. He walked, and she thought about telling him to run, but she was exhausted and besides, she thought she should let the angel be in charge.
In less than a minute, they stepped into a small clearing, and Sandra looked up at a weather-worn cottage. “They’re believers,” Bob said. “Don’t be scared.” He took her by the hand and half-led, half-dragged her up the steps to their front door. He didn’t even knock; he just went in as if he owned the place, quickly shutting the door behind him.
A man looked up from the Bible in his lap. “Can I help you?”
“Yes,” Bob said. “Could we use your phone? It’s an emergency.”
“Of course!” The man looked out the window. “Is someone following you?”
“Don’t worry. They won’t come here.”
Sandra wondered how he could know that, but somehow trusted that he did. Bob thanked the kind gentleman and took the phone from his outstretched hand. He punched in a number and then handed the phone to Sandra. She made no move to take it.
“It’s Detective Buker,” he whispered, pushing the phone into her arm. “Go ahead, it has to be you.”
She heard Chip answer, and she grudgingly took the phone. “Hi, Chip. This is Sandra Provost, the soccer ref.” Even under the circumstances, she enjoyed saying that. “I’m not sure where to start, but we need help—”
Bob shook his head frantically.
“I need help,” she corrected. “I’m at ...” She looked at the phone’s owner, who had now stood up, his brow etched with worry. “What’s your address?” she whispered.
He gave it to her willingly, and she repeated it to Chip. “A man named Birch beat me up and shoved me into his trunk, and then another man, I don’t know his name, but I’ve been calling him Junior in my head, well, he tried to shoot me, but I got his gun, and I still have it.” She looked down at the gun in her hand. “But they’re still after me. They say Mike White sent them.” Before she could even finish that sentence, he talked over her to tell her units were on the way. She realized that her whole body was shaking, and she looked at the phone owner. “Can I sit down?”
“Of course, of course!” he rushed to say and guided her toward the couch, which she collapsed onto.
“Stay with me, Sandra. We’re on our way.”
“Sorry ... I’m all wet,” she said, only vaguely aware of how peculiar she sounded. This was the softest couch in the history of couches. She’d never been so in love with a couch.
“Would you like some coffee? Hot cocoa?”
At the same time, Chip asked, “Are you hurt? Do you need an ambulance?”
She didn’t know whom to answer and was overwhelmed. She shook her head at both of them. “I don’t think so. And water would be great.” For just a second, she thought, no, shouldn’t drink water, then you’ll just have to go to the bathroom again, but then her logical brain kicked in. That would be an okay thing now. For the rest of her life, it should be fairly easy to get to a bathroom.
The man returned with a bottle of water, which she snatched out of his hand and then drank from greedily. She hadn’t realized how thirsty she was. It was no wonder. She’d exercised more today than she had in her entire life. Then he draped a blanket over her the best he could while she continued to hold the phone to her ear. She didn’t know why she was doing this. “Can I call my family?” she said into the phone.
“Stay on the line with me. Detective Slaughter has already called your husband. We’ll take you to your family as soon as we—”
“Oh no!” she cried, and the couch-owner jumped. “You probably scared them to death!” She realized she was whining, but couldn’t help it. “Someone named Slaughter calls him and tells him I’m being chased by a murderer? Are you nuts?”
Chip didn’t answer, and Sandra was glad for it. She didn’t want to talk to Chip anymore. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes. As the seconds ticked by, the phone got heavier and began to slide away from her ear, and she let it. Before it hit the couch, Bob caught it and ended the call.
Sandra fought to stay awake, but she knew she was losing the battle. Just before she nodded off, Bob whispered into her ear, “You did great. We’re definitely going to be able to clear Frank’s name.”
Without opening her eyes, she tried to smile, but she didn’t know if her lips obeyed the command.
“Thanks for your help,” he said. “You might not see me again, but it’s been a pleasure.”
“No, wait!” Her eyes popped open, and she grabbed his arms. “I need one more thing from you.”
He frowned. “What?”
She leaned toward his ear and whispered her request.
He scrunched up one side of his face. “That’s not really what I do.”
“Then talk to the angel who does it,” she said, and then felt she was being too demanding. “Please?”
He nodded. “I’ll make it happen.”
Well beyond pleased, Sandra allowed herself to drift off to sleep. As she did, she thought she heard Bob say, “I’m an angel of the Lord. When the police get here, do not mention me. I was never here.”
Later, looking back on this memory, she would swear she’d seen the man agree, but that didn’t seem plausible. In her memory, he hadn’t even seemed surprised. He’d acted as though he encountered angels all the time.
Surely, she was misremembering that part of her adventure. Perhaps she’d dreamed that bit.