by Ron Benrey
“Not that I can think of,” she replied, too quickly.
“You know the kind of thing I mean,” he said, softly. “A deep, dark secret that Phil Meade might be holding over your head like the Sword of Damocles?”
Ann made a show of looking at the dashboard clock. “I’m hungry. I see a gas station down the road that has a mini-mart. Let’s pick up some snacks.”
Sean kept his eyes on the road and off Ann. She had understood his question but ignored it. He parked in front of the mini-mart. Ann held her hand out. “I’ll drive the rest of the way.”
“You’re under no obligation to tell me your secrets, Ann. But I’m trying to help you battle Phil Meade. I can’t do that until you trust me completely.”
“I do trust you, Sean.” She stepped out of the car.
“But?”
“Leave it at that.” He saw an emotion on her face that he hadn’t yet seen: outright fear.
She’s terrified about what Phil Meade might do. And she won’t share her fears with me. How can I help her if she won’t trust me—and if I haven’t earned her trust by now, will I ever earn it?
NINE
Ann glanced at Sean asleep in the passenger seat and said, “Time to wake up.”
He yawned and stretched. “Where are we?”
“Glory is around the next turn. I’ll have you back at the Scottish Captain in five minutes.”
“For some reason, I feel ready to spend the rest of the day in bed.”
“I’m not surprised. You’re still recovering from a nasty whack on the head.”
He shrugged and made a loud hmm.
“I take your hum as agreement with my diagnosis,” she said.
He made another hmm.
“I’m impressed. You do passable cat imitations.”
“You’ve only heard my routine stuff. Prepare to be dazzled by my fabulous purr.” He rolled the final r-r-r for more than ten seconds.
Ann laughed a bit. She appreciated his sense of humor and the fact that he was trying to cheer her up. She felt a twinge of guilt as she thought of the argument they’d just had, and the way she’d shut Sean out. But she didn’t have to share her past with a man she had met four days ago, she thought. There’s no reason to tell him what happened seven years ago. Not now, not ever.
“We’ve arrived,” he said, as the tree-lined state road abruptly became Glory’s Main Street in front of the town’s garish sign. Its tall red and gold letters shouted, Welcome To Glory, North Carolina. We’re Happy You’re Here! Sean began to chuckle.
“I’ll bite,” she said. “What’s so amusing about our welcome sign?”
“Well, the last time I saw that sign, a hurricane was bearing down on Glory. Carlo and I talked about adding ‘Except for Gilda’ to the bottom.”
Ann trembled as the memory of that night seemed to fill her stomach with ice.
“I’ve made you upset again,” Sean said, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. When will I learn to think before I open my mouth?”
“I’m not upset,” she said.
“Your face says that you are. I seem to have a knack for saying stupid things that make you unhappy.”
Ann didn’t know how to respond. And I have a knack for insulting you. Anything she said would make the situation more uncomfortable for both of them. Fortunately, her cell phone broke the awkward silence with its loud rendition of “Stars and Stripes Forever.” But this time, Sousa’s familiar march seemed more ominous than rousing, and amplified the malevolent chill that had invaded Ann’s spine.
“That’s the ring tone that announces a call from Pastor Hartman,” she said. “I’d better take it.” She eased the Toyota into an empty parking spot on the south side of Main Street, and flipped open her phone.
“Hi, Daniel,” she said.
“Ann, are you back in Glory?”
“Yep. I’m near the corner of Main and Broad.”
“Come to the church as quickly as possible. We have a crisis here.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Phil Meade stomped into my office ten minutes ago and announced to me that he’d arranged a meeting to talk about you. At eleven this morning.”
“A meeting about me? What kind of meeting? And why?”
“Those were my first two questions, but Phil wouldn’t tell me anything more, other than that he’d invited as many members of the church’s elder board as he could find in town this morning. And several other interested parties.”
“I wonder how Phil defines ‘interested party.’” Ann had an abrupt thought. “If this hastily called get-together is about me, how come Phil didn’t send me an invitation?”
“That was the third question I asked him,” Daniel said. “I told Phil that I’d put a stop to the entire meeting if you weren’t present. He growled a bit, but finally agreed that I should summon you. Consider yourself summoned.”
“Thank you, Daniel.” She tried unsuccessfully to control the quiver she heard in her voice. “I guess that Phil is still riding his favorite hobby horse. He won’t stop hounding me until he proves that I am completely responsible for Richard’s death. Don’t let Phil start complaining about me until I arrive.”
Ann shut her phone and then maneuvered her car into the traffic lane.
“Where are we going?” Sean asked.
“To the Scottish Captain.”
“Ann, come on. I couldn’t help overhear your end of the conversation and you don’t have to be a genius to understand that Phil Meade has set up some kind of kangaroo court, with you as the guest of honor.”
Ann fought back tears. Sean’s description of Phil’s impromptu meeting was probably more accurate than she wanted to contemplate just then. She stared at the road.
“Phil Meade is a major pain in the patootie, but I can deal with him.”
“Maybe. But we can deal with him a lot more effectively.”
“Sean, this is all about me.”
“Wrong, Ann. It’s all about us. I was at the church the evening everything went bad. You keep forgetting that I urged you to call Richard Squires.”
“Phil Meade is obsessed with me. He won’t even recall your name.”
“Stop wasting time. If you don’t get to Glory Community quickly, your pastor will be forced to begin the meeting without you.”
“Fine!” She made a sharp U-turn and hit the accelerator harder than she meant to. She pulled into the church’s parking lot scarcely forty seconds later.
Ann slipped out of the car without speaking to Sean and strode toward the church’s side entrance. She realized that Sean was following close behind.
“You’re not going to attend this meeting,” she said.
“Of course I am.”
Ann stopped and faced Sean. “It’s a five block walk to the Scottish Captain,” she said firmly. “Turn left on Broad Street and keep going.” Sean just stared at her.
She turned and flung open the heavy door. Daniel hadn’t mentioned a location, but the meeting would probably be in the large classroom across from his office.
There were twelve people waiting for her in the classroom when she arrived. Daniel and Phil were perched on the teacher’s desk in the front of the room. Five of Glory Community’s seven elders sat together in a group on the left side of the room. A man and a woman who both looked vaguely familiar were sitting in front of Phil. Ann assumed they were connected with Glory’s emergency command center and were at the meeting to support Phil.
Three other participants had taken seats on the right side of the room: Rafe Neilson, Rex Grainger, the editor of the Glory Gazette, and a heavyset man with a camera dangling from a lanyard around his neck.
Blast! Rex is here to do a story on me—and he brought a photographer to take pictures.
Ann didn’t know where to sit. Daniel resolved her dilemma by pulling an empty chair to the left of the desk and angling it so that Ann could see Phil and everyone else who might choose to speak during the meeting.
Phil rose f
rom his seat on the edge of the desk and cleared his throat. “Good morning, ladies and gentlemen, thank you all for coming.”
“Excuse me, Mr. Meade,” Daniel interrupted, preventing Phil from saying anything else. “Before we begin this meeting, I want to establish three ground rules. First—you invited us here today, but because the principal topic on the agenda is the performance of a church employee, I intend to act as moderator.
“Second—you apparently have something you wish to say to the elders of the church. This ad-hoc gathering will afford you the opportunity. However, this is not an official elder board meeting and none of us are here today to make decisions.
“Third—unless you object, I intend to open the proceedings with a prayer.”
Ann saw Phil Meade’s eyes grow wide. He glared at Daniel but seemed to decide that it made no sense to argue with a respected pastor, or object to an opening prayer. He gave a vague wave to signal his acquiescence.
“Heavenly Father,” Daniel began, “we ask You to send Your Holy Spirit to be a participant with us today. Give us wisdom, good judgment and understanding. Let nothing be said in anger this afternoon, but rather let all of us who take the floor speak the truth in love. We ask these things in Jesus’ name. Amen.”
Ann spoke her amen, then noted that Phil was gazing intently at her. She shivered at his cheerfully confident expression—then had a spark of insight.
He knows about me. He found out what no one else in Glory knows. That’s why he looks so pleased with himself—he’s going to tell everyone, and he can hardly wait to begin, she thought.
God, why are You putting me in the spotlight again? Didn’t I have enough pain seven years ago?
Ann heaved a sigh as another brief quiver of fear gave way to a curious feeling of relief. Okay, let it all come out. I’m tired of worrying about ancient history. Whatever happens today, happens.
Phil moved to the open space in front of the desk. “Once again, ladies and gentlemen, I thank you for honoring my request to speak to you.”
Phil paused for a moment and used the time to smile at his audience. Ann noted that most of the people in the classroom smiled back. The two exceptions were Daniel and Rafe. Well, at least she knew who her friends were today.
“As I explained when I invited you, I want to talk about Ann Trask. Specifically, her actions on the evening that Gilda passed close to Glory.” Another short pause. “I am well aware that some of you don’t agree with my assertion that Miss Trask committed a significant error in judgment that led directly to the unnecessary death of Richard Squires.”
He took a deep breath then resumed talking. “Let me assure you that I am not obsessed with the need to make a point or have my opinions vindicated. What disturbs me most is that Miss Trask fully understands what she did wrong on Monday evening, but she refuses to admit her mistake—or accept responsibility.”
Ann scanned the “interested parties” Phil had invited. Rex Grainger was furiously typing on his laptop, while his photographer was surreptitiously snapping photos without using a flash.
“Glory may only be a small town,” Phil said, “but everyone who takes responsibility for public safety needs to scrupulously honest, both with themselves, and with their colleagues.”
Ann glanced at Rafe, then Daniel. Both seem puzzled by Phil’s comment, but she knew exactly what he meant. Here it comes: Camp Carolina Pines.
Phil unfolded a sheet of paper and studied it briefly. “It pains me to report that Miss Trask’s decision to call Richard Squires to Glory Community Church is not her first life-threatening error in judgment. What she did the other evening is consistent with her behavior in the past—a past, incidentally, that she has kept secret from all of us.”
Ann had her eyes fixed on the vinyl-tiled floor in front of her chair, but she heard several murmurs from the elders in the room.
“Seven years ago,” Phil said, “after completing her sophomore year at college, Miss Trask served as a camp counselor at Camp Carolina Pines. She had held the same job the previous summer.
“Late on the afternoon of July 26, a severe thunderstorm struck the campgrounds with high winds, heavy rains and large chunks of hail.”
Ann stared harder at the floor. She couldn’t stop her mind from replaying those terrible few minutes. The gray sky had grown dark as twilight. The hail had looked more like chunks of steel than ice, and the ten girls in her care—all between seven and ten—had begun to scream.
Phil went on. “There was an old, unused shed on the campgrounds—a structure off-limits to all staff and campers, because everyone in leadership considered it unsafe. On her own initiative, Miss Trask led the ten children into the shed, ostensibly to escape the storm. Within minutes, a gust of wind collapsed the shed, trapping everyone beneath the wreckage. Frantic searchers did not find Miss Trask and the children until close to midnight.”
Ann would never forget the noise of the wind and the total darkness. They’d been trapped under the shed’s fallen roof, with the wind shrieking outside and the kids alternately crying and screaming.
Phil continued. “As a direct result of Miss Trask’s poor judgment, six of the children she led into the condemned shed were injured, two of them critically. Blessedly, those children eventually recovered. However, their parents charged Miss Trask with negligence and filed a civil lawsuit against the camp. True to form, Miss Trask insisted that she had made the right decision at the time. The suit was eventually settled. Miss Trask never worked at the camp again.
“I can understand why Miss Trask withheld details of Camp Carolina Pines when she applied for her post at Glory Community Church. The past is the best predictor of the future. Wise elders might well have become concerned by Miss Trask’s failure to follow orders and her refusal to accept responsibility for her actions.”
Ann looked around the room. The elders seemed perplexed by Phil Meade’s revelation. Rafe looked confused and even Daniel appeared bewildered.
I hope I didn’t lose the most important support I had.
A loud bang startled Ann. Someone had flung open the classroom door with enough force to make the wall shake. A loud voice followed the unexpected noise.
“My name is Sean Miller and I have something important to say.”
Ann grimaced. Why hadn’t Sean listened to her and stayed away from the meeting? Anything he said now was bound to throw fuel on the fire.
Not that it makes much difference. People can’t think less of me than they do right now.
“Leave this room immediately, Mr. Miller,” Phil Meade shouted, “or I will have you thrown out!”
Sean marched toward the desk and pointed his right index finger directly at Phil’s nose. “You may succeed in bullying others, Mr. Meade, but all I see is a pretentious local official who has chosen to wield his authority in an abusive manner.” Sean took a breath. “I’ve dealt with your kind before. You don’t frighten me, sir.”
Sean could almost feel the anger radiating from Phil’s glower.
“Our purpose here is not to frighten anyone,” Daniel said, “but this is not an open meeting, Mr. Miller. All of the attendees are here this morning because they were invited by Mr. Meade or by me.”
Sean willed himself to speak softly and evenly. “I know that, and I apologize for my dramatic entrance—and for eavesdropping,” he said, looking directly at Ann. She met his gaze only for a moment, but it was long enough for Sean to see the pain in her eyes.
“In point of fact, I should have been invited to this meeting, because I have important information about the circumstances leading up to the death of Richard Squires. Simply put, I played a major role in Ann Trask’s decision to call Mr. Squires to Glory Community Church to repair the failed generator. If you fault her for bringing him to the church, you must also fault me.”
“Poppycock!” Phil said. “I threw this northern carpetbagger out of my office two days ago. He’s a know-nothing. Ann Trask enlisted him to muddy the waters.”
Sean r
eplied, “Even you can’t be dumb enough to believe something that nonsensical.”
“Stop right there!” Daniel shouted. “Both of you! I won’t tolerate any more personal insults.” He pointed a finger at Sean. “Mr. Miller, I will give you exactly three minutes to share your information. After that, I will throw you out of this room myself, if necessary. Understood?”
Sean nodded. “Yes, sir.” He suddenly wished he’d that worn his bright red Storm Channel jacket. A “power color” would help focus the participants’ attention on him. Well, he’d have to pull them in with a firm voice, commanding body language and strong gestures.
Praise the Lord I paid attention to Carlo Vaughn on his good days.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he began. “As some of you know, I work for the Storm Channel. On the evening that Gilda came to Glory, I received permission from Miss Trask to park the broadcast van in the church’s parking lot. Miss Trask was a gracious hostess. She invited the Storm Channel weather reporter and me to take shelter inside the church after our broadcasts were over.
“When Miss Trask learned that I operated the diesel generator inside our broadcast van, she requested that I check the operational status of the church’s emergency generator. The generator stopped running a few seconds after I started the diesel engine. The signal light indicated a problem in the fuel system. Miss Trask asked if I could do anything to fix the problem. Alas, I had to refuse to because we were about to go on the air with a live broadcast. I called her attention to the note that Richard Squires had posted on the wall. The instructions were short and specific—‘In case of a problem with the generator, call Richard Squires.’ I urged her to make the call. From my perspective, she did exactly what was prudent and necessary.
“If I’d ignored my responsibility to the Storm Channel and had taken time to work on the diesel engine, Richard Squires would probably be alive today.” Sean glanced at Phil Meade. “So why not say that I’m responsible for his death?”
“More poppycock!” Phil said.
Sean decided not to exchange any more verbal blows with Phil Meade. He’d made his point. He thanked them for listening and moved quickly toward the door. It wasn’t until he was outside in the corridor that he realized Ann had followed him.
