ELEVEN

Blake whistled and clapped as Jamie whacked the ball right between the short stop and second base, breathing new life into the longsuffering fans on the benches during extra innings. “Run, son! Run!” He stood, spilling his popcorn.

Melody bounced on her toes, clasping her hands as their youngest dashed toward first. In the outfield, the players on the other team scrambled to catch the ball and toss it back to the pitcher.

Blake waved his arm. “Steal second. Go!”

The coach motioned to go ahead. Jamie nodded and dashed for the middle base, sliding in milliseconds before the baseman caught the ball and tapped his leg.

“Safe.”

The parents high-fived. In the distance siren after siren blared down the highway. Blake shrugged. “Must be a bad wreck.”

Mel crooked her arm through his and leaned her head on his shoulder as they sat back down. “Not your problem.”

His kissed her temple. “Not tonight or for the next four weeks. I’m glad I didn’t miss this. Bottom of the third extra inning. Jamie’s hit could win this for the Armadillos.”

“Your practicing with him in the backyard for three hours yesterday must have helped.”

“Yeah, I guess. Sorry I didn’t have time before...”

His wife brushed a strand of hair off his receding forehead. “You do now. Let’s enjoy this time away and let the police department do without you, if they can. No more shop talk. In three days, we’ll be hitting the beach.”

“Agreed,” he whispered into her ear. His cell phone buzzed. He looked at the caller identification and sighed. “It’s your mother.”

She punched the button on his phone and slipped it into his shirt pocket. “Let it go to voice mail. She only calls you about police business. If she needs anything else, she’ll call me.”

He nodded and pushed his sleeve back to check the time on his watch. “Wow. She’s sure up past her normal bedtime though. It’s after eleven.”

Melody yawned. “Guess we’ll be going to the later church service tomorrow. I need my beauty rest.”

He snuggled his nose near her neck. “No, you don’t.”

~*~

Janie tapped her foot. “He’s not answering.” Beep. “Blake. Where are you? All you-know-what has broken loose over here. Aaron is down. One of the robbers, too. I think they killed him. The other escaped into West Woods. Call me!”

Betsy Ann and George sat at her kitchen table clenching each other’s hand. It had been almost a half hour since the police dropped them off at her condo. Her phone and Betsy Ann’s had lit up like holiday-decorated houses. Every time she tried to reach Blake, someone else called wanting to know what happened and if they were all right. Even Mrs. Jacobs phoned.

Janie paced in front of her sink. “Where is he? Jamie’s baseball game should have ended hours ago.”

George winked. “I bet he turned his phone off for a while.”

She thrust her hand to her hip. “Why would he do that?”

He tilted his head to one side. “Quiet time with the Missus, perhaps?”

Janie’s face heated. “Oh, um, yes. Perhaps.” The idea of her daughter and son-in-law in an intimate situation made her uneasy. Get a grip. They have two kids, which doesn’t happen with a handshake. “Well, he’ll call back when he learns about this.” She plopped into a kitchen chair and rested her chin in her hands.

“What’s wrong, Janie?”

“Oh, Betsy Ann. I feel useless. I’m a cop’s wife. One of our own is down. I should be doing something.”

“We could make coffee. How many thermoses and Styrofoam cups do you have?”

“I have four thermoses, I think. And tons of cups. Got three bags of them at the wholesale warehouse on sale last week.” Her demeanor brightened. “Wonderful idea. Let’s bake some cookies, too.”

George stood and raised his hands. “I leave the kitchen to you ladies. I’m going to go turn on the news and see if there are any updates.”

Janie made a tsk, tsk sound. “Typical male.”

Betsy Ann giggled.

The two began puttering about, occasionally bumping into each other, not saying much but glad to be keeping busy.

As the second batch of chocolate chip cookies emerged from the oven, Janie’s doorbell rang. Detective Hemphill stood on her front porch. “Mrs. Manson. I know it’s late, but Mike Martin said you offered your home as base?”

She flung the door wide. A row of uniformed men and women stood behind him. “Come in. Come in. Set up in the dining room. Coffeepot is brewing.”

The entourage filtered inside with laptops, walkie-talkies, and maps. She cleared away the centerpiece so the team could set up their command center. Two police officers brought in large shrink-wrapped trays containing bottles of water. They set them on the floor. A police woman, whom Janie didn’t recognize, opened a laptop and began clicking the keys. Hemphill spoke softly to her, pointing at the screen. She nodded and spoke into her Bluetooth. “Officers 129, 332, and 464, report to 124 Sunny Ridge Blvd.”

Hemphill pointed to three of the policemen who had brought in supplies. “You replace them. Head for the southeast quadrant and report to Edwards.”

George and Betsy Ann stood off to the side in the living room arm in arm. Janie approached Hemphill. “We baked cookies and made coffee. Shall I pass them around?”

His stern, worried face melted. “I knew I smelled something scrumptious. Thanks.”

“What are you organizing?” She bent to view over the policewoman’s shoulder at the computer screen.

“Manhunts are high emotion. We only allow each officer forty-five minutes in the field before they’re to be replaced. That way they can grab some water, use the facilities, and refresh. Um, I guess you just have one here?”

“Toilet? Yes, afraid so.”

“No bother.” The female officer smiled. “We have portables already in place on the edge of the golf course.”

Janie motioned Betsy Ann into the kitchen. They plated the desserts and offered them to the police officers. Members of the squads from Red Oak, Grayson, and Georgetown were present, as well as ones in Alamoville uniforms.

She offered a cookie to Detective Hemphill. “How many do you have in the field?”

He took a bite and wiped the corner of his mouth with his finger. “Mmmm. These are still warm. Thanks.” He patted her shoulder. “To answer your question, about forty. More are arriving. We’re covering a three-mile radius, mostly into the woods. He headed in that direction, but we don’t think he’s gotten as far as the neighborhood down the way. Just in case, we’ve blocked off farm-to-market road 1275 so no one can come in or out. Guards are posted every hundred yards along the front fence lines of Sunset Acres. The Get’em and Go has two officers posted in their parking lot.”

Betsy Ann became animated. “I can gather all of our friends to make sandwiches.”

“No. Everyone needs to stay in their homes. It’s too dangerous out there. The Austin squad’s roach coach will be here in an hour with food.”

The slang term for the mobile food van made Janie smile for a brief moment. With the severity of the situation buzzing around her, it faded again. “How is Aaron?”

His lips turned down. “Critical. They’ve air-flighted him into Seton Medical Center in Austin.”

Janie’s eyes filled. She gulped. “Have you heard from Blake?”

Connor Hemphill’s face softened. “He’s on leave, ma’am. He’s not involved in this.”

She nodded rapidly, set the platter on the dining table, and headed for her bedroom to pray for all involved. She found Mrs. Fluffy burrowed under her comforter. She patted the lump. “It’s going to be all right, kitty.”

She tried Blake’s number once again. It went to voice mail. Janie hung up and punched in her daughter’s.

A groggy Melody answered. “It’s after midnight, Mom. Are you OK?”

Janie sighed. Where to begin.