by Amber West
“Usually, when someone is face to face with almost certain death, they don’t ask the guy with the gun to point it at them.”
I shrugged, eyes still closed. “I had to distract him so you could get the gun.”
“Oh, you planned all that.”
“Of course. I’m a brilliant strategist. Have I never mentioned that?”
“No. Clearly I missed that conversation. What if I hadn’t performed as you assumed? I could’ve taken the opportunity to escape.”
I shook my head slowly. “Nope. You wouldn’t.”
“What makes you so sure?”
I opened my eyes a little and laughed. “My instincts have been off about everything else since I got here. Law of averages, I had to be right about something. Plus, Doris likes you.”
“Come again?”
“Doris. She doesn’t like anyone. Not even Jack. But she loooooves you.” I looked at my hand and pulled the ring Jack gave me off my finger. “Here. You should give this to her.”
“I’ll get right on that,” he laughed, taking the ring. “Wow. You staked that I would do the noble thing on the rare smile of a cranky waitress.”
“Yeah. I’m a risk taker.”
He laughed again, then let out a sigh. “I like you, Jameson Quinn.”
I closed my eyes again and smiled. “Creepy priest.”
“I saved your life and still can’t shake that nickname?”
“Nope. And I saved your life.”
“Shoot. I was hoping to cash in on that.”
“Oh, really?” I mumbled.
“Yeah, you know. Rides to the airport, do my laundry, stuff like that.”
I smiled. “I guess you’re out of luck.”
Mike said something in response, chuckling. His voice sounded far away, and my whole body felt like stone.
“Jameson?”
I groaned, fighting sleep. I heard my name again, the sounds of sirens and helicopters in the background, as I gave in and drifted off.
Chapter 49
I opened my eyes, the hum and beeps of a hospital greeting me. I looked out the window, spying manicured grounds and tall buildings. I didn’t recognize any of it, but I knew I had to be far from Ruth Valley.
My eyelids were heavy, but I fought the urge to sleep, pressing the call button instead.
I closed my eyes, waiting. Unsure of how much time passed, I opened my eyes when I heard a nurse say my name.
“Miss Quinn?”
I nodded.
“How are you feeling? How’s the pain?”
I squinted, scrunching my nose. I didn’t feel any pain.
“Fine. Could I get a glass of water?”
She nodded. “Sure thing. I’ll be right back.”
I heard voices outside the room as she exited, then a familiar face appeared.
“Finelli?”
He came over and grabbed my hand, squeezing it. “James, good to see you awake.”
“How did I get here? What happened?”
Finelli smiled. “I feel like I’ve answered this question before.”
I paused, then attempted to roll my eyes, which ended up with me closing them. “Yes, that’s not lost on me.”
“You were brought in after a scuffle in that little town of yours.”
I stared at Finelli. “I’m feeling pretty out of it, Doc. A bit more than scuffle-level.”
“Well, seems you suffered a mild concussion, had an infected wound, and a negative reaction to some antibiotics.” He paused before adding, “Oh, and you were shot in the leg.”
“You make me sound like a mess.”
“More or less. They gave you meds for the pain before I got here, so I couldn’t tell them to go easy on the dose for you. That’s why you’re probably feeling like you got hit with an elephant tranquilizer.”
“Are you calling me fat, Finelli?” I smiled, weakly. He gave me a reassuring look, still squeezing my hand. “So, wait, am I in New York?”
“No, you’re still in North Carolina, but in an actual city with a real hospital. Your friend called and told me to get down here.” He shook his head. “What did you get yourself into, James?”
“What are you talking about?”
“The raid made the news. The church in that small town was killing people for insurance money? Amazing. Leave it to you to leave the city to escape and land in the middle of that.”
“Yeah, I have a talent for finding trouble.”
I meant to make a joke, but found myself choking on the end of my sentence.
Finelli pat my arm. “It’s okay, James. Everything is going to be just fine.”
I squeezed his hand, wanting to tell him about everything, wanting to find out what happened, but I found myself unable to get anything more than a ‘thank you’ past the lump in my throat.
“We have plenty of time to catch up. You rest up so we can get you out of here and home.”
“Home. Where’s that?”
Finelli let go of my hand, patting it.
“We’ll figure it out. Now rest.”
Chapter 50
My discharge from the hospital was a welcome one. As the med dosages were altered to account for my sensitivities, I found myself more awake and far more restless. I wanted answers. I couldn’t remember a thing past the sagging couch of the rectory. I suspected Father Mike was the “friend” who called Finelli, but he hadn’t been in to see me at the hospital.
When a bag of clothes and personal items from my old place showed up, I’d hoped Mike would soon follow, but all I’d found was a scrap of paper sitting on top of my clothes, a location and time scrawled on it.
So I found myself standing in a diner, a modern update of the one I left behind in Ruth Valley, looking around for a familiar face.
“Table for one?”
The older woman waited patiently as I looked around the restaurant. “No, actually, I think I’m supposed to be meeting someone here.”
“Try the booth in the corner there.” She smiled and added as I walked past, “Lucky girl.”
As I approached the booth, I could see a man in a dark blue suit, the unruly hair unmistakably belonging to Mike. I stood by the table and cleared my throat.
He looked up and smiled. “I see you got my note.”
I slid into the booth, slowly. “Yes, I did. And I’m assuming the clothes were your doing?”
He nodded. “I didn’t think you’d want to meet me here in a hospital gown. Those things get drafty.”
“Thanks. It’s nice to be in my own clothes. Speaking of which,” I nodded towards his outfit, crisp white dress shirt and tailored suit, black and white collar noticeably missing, “this is nice.”
“Yeah, well, you aren’t the only one relieved to be in your own clothes.”
Before I could ask him what he meant, a man approached our table. “Demings, I’m heading back.” The man looked down at me and smiled, “Excuse me, Miss, but I need to borrow him for a second.”
Mike held up his finger. “I’ll be right back.”
I watched as he left the table, walking with the other well-dressed man. They stepped outside of the diner, talking for a few minutes. Mike stood listening and nodding, pushing his jacket out of the way as he placed a hand in his pocket to retrieve something. As he did, I caught sight of the holster strapped beneath his jacket and the flash of something on his belt. A badge.
The waitress brought me seltzer water with lime, while I watched Mike shake the man’s hand, smiling, before heading back inside.
“Sorry about that.” As he slid into the booth I caught the glimmer of the badge once more. He caught me looking and grinned, unclipping it from his belt and setting it on the table.
I reached for it, running my fingers over the words ‘Federal Bureau of Investigation’ and shook my head.
“I knew it. I knew you couldn’t be a priest.”
“I’m not sure whether I should be offended or relieved. Either way, you didn’t know.”
“I did!”
&nbs
p; He raised an eyebrow as he looked at me over a glass of sweet tea.
“Okay,” I conceded, “I didn’t know. But I knew something was off about you. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”
He shrugged. “Couldn’t take that risk.”
“So, what happened?”
“Agents raided the convent shortly after you passed out on that awful couch. Jack and the nuns are in custody, townspeople are being questioned, paperwork is being filled out. The usual.”
“Interesting world you live in. Mine doesn’t usually classify clocking a nun and following up with paperwork as ‘usual’.”
“I suppose not.”
I sat quietly, staring at my glass, gently tapping my finger on the side.
“Do you miss Jack?” Mike’s voice was suddenly soft, sincere.
I pulled my lips in tight. “Not so much him. More the idea of him and everything that went with being with him. Finding a place to be. I’m not saying that I thought that being the Sheriff’s girlfriend in a small town would have been my dream gig or anything, but it was nice to feel some kind of…”
I faded out, unsure of what I wanted to say.
“Belonging?” Mike offered.
“Maybe.” I shrugged, shaking my head. “Maybe if I hadn’t been trying so hard to find a place to belong I would have realized that I wasn’t in the right place to begin with.”
“Don’t be too hard on yourself. I had a gut feeling about Jack when I came into that town, but it was based more on logistics, nothing obvious. I figured if bad things were happening and the one cop in town doesn’t know, he’s either involved or an idiot. And, for what it’s worth, he didn’t strike me as an idiot.”
“And that’s why you couldn’t tell me you weren’t really a priest. Because of my relationship with Jack.”
“That was a big reason. It was difficult, too. I was tempted to knock you upside the head with my badge more than once.” I suppressed a smile as Mike continued, “But, as it turns out, your ability to get on the nuns bad side so quickly and your inability to keep your nose out of other peoples’ business helped make the case. I went in on a hunch after we received an anonymous tip about the insurance fraud. No one wanted to investigate, and honestly, I took a big risk asking to go in. If things had gone another way, I’d be behind a desk the rest of my career. Or worse.”
“If it was that risky, why’d you ask to go in?”
“I grew up in a small town, not all that different from Ruth Valley. I have a soft spot for those kinds of people. People like Andy and Joan - who are both fine by the way - they’re trusting. They take care of each other. And people on the outside don’t always get that – treat them like they’re crazy for it.”
“I can understand that.” I smiled, thinking of my first time meeting Emma and how much I loved exactly what Mike described, then cocked my head to the side. “Joan and Andy are alright?”
He nodded. “I got Andy out after he got slashed, and when Joan found out about her husband’s truck, I was worried she’d be in danger, so I got her out too. Sadly, it was too late for her husband.”
“I’m so glad they are safe.” I was also happy to hear Joan found closure, that she confirmed that her husband was the man she married, a man who loved her for better or for worse. I set my elbow on the table, setting my chin on my hand. “I can’t believe it’s all over.”
“Makes you think twice about responding to a Craigslist ad, eh? You look for an apartment and find a psychotic sect of man-hating nuns. Don’t even want to think about what looking for a mattress might get you. Creepy.”
I rolled my eyes. “Very funny, creepy priest.”
Mike pouted. “I’m not a priest, remember? And I still don’t think I was all that creepy.”
“Any priest who flirts as much as you did is creepy.”
“Like I said,” he paused, one side of his mouth turning upwards, "I’m not a priest, so any activities you deemed creepy should be retroactively forgiven.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“So. What’s next for you? Headed back to Brooklyn? Finelli mentioned you could stay at his place upstate if you need some time. Nice guy.”
I shrugged, suddenly feeling awful as I realized I had no idea what was next. “I don’t even know where I’m going after you leave the diner.”
“Oh well, that’s easy.” He reached in his pocket and tossed a hotel key on the table. “You’ll be here for next few days at least.”
I raised an eyebrow, holding the key up. “What’s this?”
Mike rolled his eyes. “Nothing ‘creepy’. I need you to stay in town for a few days. You’re a witness and haven’t been questioned yet. I made a point of keeping anyone from bothering you at the hospital, but you’ll need to talk to some people tomorrow.”
“Oh,” I said, oddly relieved to have something to do and somewhere to be.
“I had your clothes packed up and sent to the hotel, anything that looked like you might need it. Everything else has been boxed and I’ll help you get it shipped to wherever you decide to land after this.”
“Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it. You took a bullet for me, even if it was accidental.” He smiled, taking a final sip of tea before standing up and tossing a few bills on the table. “I should get going. Come on. I’ll give you a ride to the hotel.”
I nodded, following him out to the car. He opened the passenger side door, lending a hand as I lowered myself in.
~~~
“So, I’m a few blocks away if you need anything.”
Mike helped me out of the car and walked me to entry of the hotel.
“Thanks.” I looked at him, suddenly feeling very awkward. “You know, it’s strange. All this time calling you Father Mike, and mostly thinking you were, at best, a really creepy priest. We’ve been through all this stuff, but you’re this guy I don’t even know. Is your name even Mike?”
He extended his hand, waiting for me to take it. I gave him a suspicious look and laid my hand in his.
“Hello. I’m Special Agent Michael Demings. My friends call me Mike. Actually, they call me a lot of other things, but I’ll share those with you some other time. Maybe over dinner?”
I laughed, still holding his hand. “Jameson Quinn. Nice to meet you, Agent Demings. And I’ll have to check my schedule.”
“Jameson Quinn? Is that a ‘stage’ name?”
I punched him in the arm, but continued smiling.
“Sorry. I couldn’t help it.” He rubbed his arm. “You do throw a decent punch.”
“You better go. Don’t want you in trouble on my account.”
“Of course.”
“Thanks.” I leaned forward and threw my arms around Mike’s neck, feeling overwhelmed. “For everything.”
Mike hugged me back, then pulled away, his eyes disappearing in a broad grin. “For you? Any time.”
As he headed for the car and I turned towards the door of the hotel I heard him call after me.
“James?”
I turned around. “Yeah?”
“Wear your green sweater.”
I bit my lip, suppressing a smile as I watched him disappear into the car and drive off.
As I walked into the hotel, I felt an odd combination of calm and excitement come over me. I still wasn’t sure what the future held, but for the moment, dinner was enough.
Acknowledgements
The Ruth Valley Missing might have existed only as an unfinished Word document, partying with outdated versions of my resume on the backup drive if it were not for a wide assortment of people, too many to name every one of them.
Yet still, I have to point out a few.
To the countless number of readers of my blog and other work who cheered me on when I said I was going to finally write a novel – a huge thank you! (Look, Mike, you even got a character named after you.)
Many thanks to my family: My three-year-old, who watched Pirates of Penzance on repeat while I worked, and entertained me
with his rendition of Pirate King when I was done. The husband, who read everything I wrote, and listened to me go on and on with only the occasional yawn. My Dad, who often tells me to stop talking about things and just do them, and my Mom, who tells imaginary people in her dreams that I’m a talented writer. My siblings, especially my sister, who are so ridiculously funny and talented that I’m always pushing myself to keep up.
Big thanks go to a special group of creative types: Renée Schuls-Jacobson, whose amazing critique work was both encouraging and honest, and key in my decision to publish. Lori and Eden, former roommates, forever best friends, and frequent guinea pigs for all my creative endeavors. And Tiffany White and Jen Kirchner, talented writers and supportive friends who made me believe that I had work worth publishing, and put up with my neurotic self-doubt on a regular basis.
This book would never have been if it wasn’t for all of you.
Amber West is a Northeastern transplant dodging rodent sized bugs and sweltering heat in the jungles of Central Florida. When she isn’t battling the urge to pass out, she’s busy being a wife, mother, geek, photographer, and writer, in no particular order.
You can read her ramblings at http://www.withoutsushi.com or find her on Twitter (@amberwest) where she abuses hashtags and makes people laugh. Or at least, makes herself laugh.
