WOODY WAS FINE.

Luke thanked God for that, but the investigation and police officers soon overran his yard and home. He’d canceled his appointment with Brenda Harris and promised to reschedule as soon as possible. Luke stayed outside the perimeter tape and watched for his mom’s car. He stepped out to the parkway when he saw it. He’d called her and his dad and explained what had happened. His front lawn was still encircled in police tape, and the shooting investigation had not yet finished. Alonzo Ruiz was gone; paramedics had transported him away, and Luke heard he died at the hospital.

Maddie was out of the car quickly, and Luke knelt down to envelop her in a hug.

“Look at all the police officers,” she exclaimed. “Is Bill here?” Bill was Luke’s best friend, and Maddie was used to him being around.

Grace had stepped around to Luke. Unlike Maddie, whose expression was pure excitement, Grace’s brow was scrunched in worry. Then James’s truck pulled up and Luke’s equally worried stepfather joined them.

“No, Bill’s not here, Mads.” He stood and faced his mom. “Why don’t we all go out to eat and talk about this elsewhere?” He looked at James, and his stepfather suggested Hof’s Hut on Bellflower.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Grace asked.

“Yeah, Mom, I’m fine. Woody saved the day. He’s left for the station to give a formal statement. The alarm system is toast.” He shrugged. “I’ll have to find another one.”

“That can be replaced; you and Woody can’t,” Grace said. “I’m so glad that the two of you are okay, but this really unsettles me.” She turned on her heel to get back into the car.

One of the uniformed officers stepped to where Luke and Maddie stood and told him that he was free to go and that they would be off his lawn shortly. Luke thanked him, and the officer gave Maddie a junior police badge. She was happy with the sticker.

When the officer went back to his duties, Maddie looked up at Luke. “Why is Grandma mad?”

“It’s not that she’s mad. I think she’s a little scared.”

Maddie frowned. “About Woody shooting a man?”

“Yes.” He looked up at James, who nodded as if to say, “I’ll take this.”

“She’ll be okay, baby,” James told Maddie. “She just needs time. Let’s get in the car and go have lunch.”

Maddie hesitated. “But Woody wouldn’t have shot the man if the man didn’t have a gun, right?”

“That’s right.”

“I’d rather have Woody shooting a bad guy than a bad guy shooting Woody, wherever it happens.”

Now James looked to Luke as if to say, “You can’t argue with that.”

“Me too, Maddie. Me too,” Luke said, knowing that eleven-year-old logic would not go very far in mollifying his mother. He prayed for some wisdom to help him to that end.

As the next few days progressed, Abby spent time reading the Bible every morning, restoring habits she’d admittedly let go. She came across a favorite passage, one she’d not read in a long time, and it brought tears to her eyes. Psalm 10:17-18 were the first verses she’d memorized after coming to live with her aunt.

Lord, you know the hopes of humble people. Surely you will hear their cries and comfort their hearts by helping them. You will be with the orphans and all who are oppressed, so that mere earthly man will terrify them no longer.

She’d seen herself in the verse —an orphan, oppressed —and she’d been comforted by knowing that God would hear her cries, feel her pain at the loss of her parents and her life. Truly she’d slipped from her foundation when she’d forgotten this verse and the promise it contained. She recommitted it to memory and vowed not to forget ever again.

Ethan led the construction group in prayer every morning. Abby didn’t get much time alone with him, but that was okay. She knew she had to work out the issues plaguing her on her own. And she needed to watch Ethan, clarify in her own heart if the life he was called to was really where she was called as well.

In any event, she appreciated the reverent atmosphere of the group and the sense of family. Bandit and Scout came with them every day, and Abby marveled as Bandit followed the big dog around and seemed to love the outdoors and the lifestyle change.

The workdays were intense and busy. There was no time to wallow in self-pity or to do anything other than work. During the day Abby helped wherever she was needed, carrying wood, hammering nails, cleaning up after someone used the saw. Dede headed up the kitchen staff. There were other groups of builders in addition to those who came from Lake Creek, so she was busy all day as well. The goal was to have the structure up and roofed in a week, so there was plenty of work for everyone all the time.

Abby worked hard, used muscles she didn’t know she had, slept well every night, and began to feel her balance return.

By the fourth day on the job when everyone broke for lunch, Abby gave in to her craving for Diet Coke. The church provided a hearty lunch with water, punch, and iced tea, but Abby needed a jolt of caffeine.

“Do you mind if I run to the general store for a bottle of Diet Coke?” she asked Dede.

“Not at all.” She handed Abby the keys. “You can bring me back one,” she whispered with a conspiratorial smile.

Abby took the keys with a chuckle and hummed her favorite hymn, “Trust and Obey,” on her way to the Jeep.

The general store was in the center of what made up downtown Butte Falls, which wasn’t much, and about ten minutes from the build site.

Abby parked next to a beat-up camper resting on a big, equally beat-up Chevy dually with California plates. The fact that the license plate tags were expired caused her to shake her head. Nothing she could do about it. When she got out to walk into the store, she paused, thinking she heard someone crying. As she continued around the front of the truck, she realized that someone was crying inside the camper.

Frowning, she paused again as all of her cop instincts seemed to jump at once and the hair rose on the back of her neck.

I’m being silly, she thought. Crying doesn’t mean a major crime has occurred. A child could be crying because they didn’t get their way.

A favorite Woody phrase popped into her mind: “Not my circus, not my monkeys.” Smiling at the echo of Woody’s voice, she continued into the store.

But she paid attention to everything once she entered the store. There was an older, heavyset woman behind the counter. Her back was turned as Abby entered. Abby followed her gaze and saw one other person in the store. A bearded man with a stringy brown- and gray-streaked ponytail trailing halfway down his back was at the refrigerator section, perusing beer. Walking that way, Abby took note of the man, mentally making out a field interview card on him: male white, 5’8”, 140 pounds, gray-brown hair, black headband, scraggly beard, between fifty and sixty years old, wearing dirty blue jeans and a black T-shirt.

He smelled like stale sweat and cigarettes, she noted as she opened the refrigerator two doors down from him and removed two Diet Cokes. Carrying the drinks to the cashier, Abby observed now how uneasy the woman at the counter seemed. Butte Falls was a small town. Abby had no doubt this woman knew who was from around here and who wasn’t.

“How are you doing today?” Abby asked as she slid a five-dollar bill across the counter.

“Not too bad,” the woman said, eyes flitting from Abby to the ponytailed man and back again. “I’m vertical at least.”

“Always a plus.” Abby smiled and took her change and sodas.

She stepped outside and considered waiting for the man to leave before heading back to the church.

Her curiosity got the better of her. After putting the sodas in the Jeep, Abby ignored the “curiosity killed the cat” phrase running though her mind and sidled up to the camper and listened. The windows were covered with plastic or something opaque, so she couldn’t see inside. She looked back at the door of the store. Ponytail was nowhere to be seen yet.

“Is someone in there?”

Sniffles, whispers, rustling.

“If there’s a problem, I can help.”

More rustling, but nobody said anything and she couldn’t hear crying anymore. Sighing, thinking she was overreacting but still feeling uneasy, Abby decided to make one last try.

Leaning close, she said, “I thought I heard some —”

“Get away from my rig!”

Abby jerked around as the ponytailed man lurched toward her. He set a bag on the hood of the dually and continued toward her, fists clenched.

She stepped back and reflexively settled into a position of advantage, a well-balanced stance learned in weaponless defense training.

“I thought I heard someone crying.”

“None of your business.” He spat out the words through rotting teeth that told Abby he was a meth head. He moved close, trying to intimidate her, but he was shorter than she was and she wasn’t intimidated, only angered.

Abby glanced around to make sure she had room to defend herself if he was more than just a verbal bully.

“Is someone in there hurt?”

He exploded in curses, called into question her lineage, and then said, “Ain’t no one in there, and even if there was, it would be none of your business.”

Abby would have backed off, realizing she had nothing to go on since no one had answered her, but Ponytail pulled a knife from his back pocket.

Opening the blade, he jammed it toward her, but she was ready. In a much-practiced move, she grabbed his wrist and used his own momentum against him, pulling down and then jerking his wrist back, forcing the knife to fall. He squealed as she twisted him around and set the reverse wristlock, leaning with her back against Dede’s Jeep and holding him in complete control.

Over his shrieking, Abby yelled for the woman in the store to call the police.

The cashier stepped out of the store, phone in hand, breathless. “I already talked to them. I think he stole some things. You need help?”

“No, I got him,” Abby said, feeling strangely euphoric at catching a bad guy. “Can you check out the camper? Someone was crying in there, I’m sure.”

The woman nodded. After a moment Abby’s euphoria increased. The counterwoman helped three young girls out of the camper, all with varying degrees of bruises. They all claimed to have been held against their will.

A bad guy indeed, Abby thought, tightening her grip and eliciting a whole new round of howls and denials.