disappear.
It was time for Pamela to flip on her happy switch. She dug into her purse, opened her compact, fixed herself up, and put it away, along with the conversation. “Let me see what you’ve colored.” She reached for the girls’ drawings.
Bella whirled around the corner with arms held high, a pizza tin in each mitted hand. “These are hot, hot.” She slid them onto the table. “The Crittendon special. One extra cheese. One kitchen sink with extra BOs. Remember girls, hot trays, don’t touch.”
Jack asked Rebecca to say grace. He always asked someone else when he was in a bad mood.
Pamela slid Faye’s plate in front of her. “Let me cut that for you so it cools off.”
“I’ll cut my own,” Rebecca said. “Mm-mmm, yumalicious.”
“Yumalicious,” Faye echoed.
“That’s him.” Jack shoved the table toward the girls with a loud scrape. Faye let out a scream. Everything flicked to slow motion as each head turned toward their booth—and Jack dashed from the restaurant.
The girls cried aloud, and Pamela quickly slid around to their side of the booth and took them in her arms.
Bella was there in an instant. “What’s wrong, Pamela? What’s happening?”
As Pamela held the girls, she leaned around Faye to look out the window where Jack had been gazing. Could he have seen Granger Meade? Her heart thundered, and her pulse pounded at her temples. She could not muster an answer for Bella or even look up at her, but simply squeezed the girls, closed her eyes, and prayed for Jack to come back.
Chapter 7
Once Jack came back inside, he and Pam ended up taking the girls and pizzas home. He’d seen Granger Meade driving slowly past Campolo’s in a small dark pickup truck.
Jack had sprinted three blocks to catch up, but his ankle holster came loose.
What he would have done if he had caught up with Granger, he didn’t know.
“We haven’t seen him for a year and a half,” Pam said, back at the house. “Surely he looks different now—somehow. Are you positive it was him?”
Jack knew it was. He would never forget that face, no matter how fat or skinny, young or old, no matter what length the dirty orange hair. It was Granger.
“We’re bound to see him around town,” Pam said. “We might as well prepare for it, mentally. The thing to do is ignore him.”
Jack was dumbfounded at the way she had handled the whole thing, from the night she was kidnapped right up to that moment. Pam’s mother would have had to be medicated. But Pam had steadily managed to sever those generational traits of fear and paranoia. She had long fought those wars and had overcome, connecting with God in a way Jack only used to know.
He knew she was right about his own waning faith.
It was the weirdest thing, because he saw what was happening to him. He was spending less and less time reading his Bible, praying—the things he used to do with such zeal. He was like an apathetic bystander, watching his own demise, unable or unwilling to do anything about it. His venomous attitude toward Granger seemed to be creeping into other parts of his heart and mind, causing him to be outspokenly negative at some times and just plain dead at others.
He’d left Pam and the girls at home, and now was riding toward the hospital with Derrick in hopes of speaking with Galen.
“You’re sure quiet,” Derrick said.
“It hasn’t been the best day.”
“Why would Granger pick Trenton City, of all the places he could live? That’s crazy.”
Derrick wheeled the FJ Cruiser into visitor parking at the hospital, which was lit up like a baseball stadium, making the patches of snow on the ground look neon.
“I know,” Jack said. “Part of it has to do with the fact that he’s been meeting with Evan McDaniel ever since the whole thing happened. Evan thought it would be a good idea if they were close when Granger got out.”
“Dang, that would tick me off.” Derrick found an open space and parked. “Are you worried about Pam
It was time for Pamela to flip on her happy switch. She dug into her purse, opened her compact, fixed herself up, and put it away, along with the conversation. “Let me see what you’ve colored.” She reached for the girls’ drawings.
Bella whirled around the corner with arms held high, a pizza tin in each mitted hand. “These are hot, hot.” She slid them onto the table. “The Crittendon special. One extra cheese. One kitchen sink with extra BOs. Remember girls, hot trays, don’t touch.”
Jack asked Rebecca to say grace. He always asked someone else when he was in a bad mood.
Pamela slid Faye’s plate in front of her. “Let me cut that for you so it cools off.”
“I’ll cut my own,” Rebecca said. “Mm-mmm, yumalicious.”
“Yumalicious,” Faye echoed.
“That’s him.” Jack shoved the table toward the girls with a loud scrape. Faye let out a scream. Everything flicked to slow motion as each head turned toward their booth—and Jack dashed from the restaurant.
The girls cried aloud, and Pamela quickly slid around to their side of the booth and took them in her arms.
Bella was there in an instant. “What’s wrong, Pamela? What’s happening?”
As Pamela held the girls, she leaned around Faye to look out the window where Jack had been gazing. Could he have seen Granger Meade? Her heart thundered, and her pulse pounded at her temples. She could not muster an answer for Bella or even look up at her, but simply squeezed the girls, closed her eyes, and prayed for Jack to come back.
Chapter 7
Once Jack came back inside, he and Pam ended up taking the girls and pizzas home. He’d seen Granger Meade driving slowly past Campolo’s in a small dark pickup truck.
Jack had sprinted three blocks to catch up, but his ankle holster came loose.
What he would have done if he had caught up with Granger, he didn’t know.
“We haven’t seen him for a year and a half,” Pam said, back at the house. “Surely he looks different now—somehow. Are you positive it was him?”
Jack knew it was. He would never forget that face, no matter how fat or skinny, young or old, no matter what length the dirty orange hair. It was Granger.
“We’re bound to see him around town,” Pam said. “We might as well prepare for it, mentally. The thing to do is ignore him.”
Jack was dumbfounded at the way she had handled the whole thing, from the night she was kidnapped right up to that moment. Pam’s mother would have had to be medicated. But Pam had steadily managed to sever those generational traits of fear and paranoia. She had long fought those wars and had overcome, connecting with God in a way Jack only used to know.
He knew she was right about his own waning faith.
It was the weirdest thing, because he saw what was happening to him. He was spending less and less time reading his Bible, praying—the things he used to do with such zeal. He was like an apathetic bystander, watching his own demise, unable or unwilling to do anything about it. His venomous attitude toward Granger seemed to be creeping into other parts of his heart and mind, causing him to be outspokenly negative at some times and just plain dead at others.
He’d left Pam and the girls at home, and now was riding toward the hospital with Derrick in hopes of speaking with Galen.
“You’re sure quiet,” Derrick said.
“It hasn’t been the best day.”
“Why would Granger pick Trenton City, of all the places he could live? That’s crazy.”
Derrick wheeled the FJ Cruiser into visitor parking at the hospital, which was lit up like a baseball stadium, making the patches of snow on the ground look neon.
“I know,” Jack said. “Part of it has to do with the fact that he’s been meeting with Evan McDaniel ever since the whole thing happened. Evan thought it would be a good idea if they were close when Granger got out.”
“Dang, that would tick me off.” Derrick found an open space and parked. “Are you worried about Pam
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