Danger in a Small Town. Ginny Aiken

Tess’s lips. Bile rushed up her throat. She froze for a moment, but the horror propelled her to her feet. She grasped at a branch to get her balance, glanced at the corpse, then put a hand over her mouth to stop the next scream.

      Stepping back on trembling legs, she couldn’t look away from the woman on the ground. Abstractly she noticed how her pretty hairdo hid her face.

      Life ground to slow motion. Fear rushed through Tess’s limbs. Her pulse pounded in her ears, and her head spun. She realized she’d been holding her breath. Somewhere behind her, a car drove past.

      A shudder racked her, followed by wave after wave of tremors. The urge to run, to hide overwhelmed her.

      Despite the urgency of her instincts, Tess knew she couldn’t leave. Not yet.

      With a brief prayer for strength, she clutched her cell phone, forced her fingers to work and dialed 911. Her hands shook so hard she could barely hold the device to her ear. Relief flooded her when the dispatcher answered.

      “Help!” she croaked.

      The man on the other end asked for directions in a calm, measured voice.

      “Don’t know exactly,” she said. “She’s…I think she’s dead. In the woods off Ratner Road, just a little past the old Wilder Barn. Hurry, please!”

      The dispatcher’s voice had given her something to hang on to for a couple of seconds, enough to make her realize she should wait by the road. She could flag down the cruisers as they came.

      On her way out of the woods, she prayed for help to arrive soon; for God’s comfort; for His wisdom for all involved.

      Most of all, she prayed for more of the peace she’d felt so keenly just a few brief minutes earlier.

      Ethan Rogers wiped the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. “It’s way too hot for late May. And you’re a slave driver, Art Reams.”

      The tall, thin pastor of Loganton Bible Church leaned against his shovel and sent Ethan a look of mock sorrow. “You wound me! I’m just doing my best to serve the Lord, and with the groundbreaking just two weeks away, we don’t have the funds to hire someone to clear these weeds.”

      Ethan dropped the joking tone. “You are a servant, and I’m glad to help wherever I can. The new fellowship building’s going to be great—especially the gym. Kids need that kind of space.” He wiped the sweat from the back of his neck. “But you and I need a break. How about some of that iced tea you stash in the church fridge?”

      Art dropped the shovel and held out a hand. They shook on it. As they crossed the parking lot, Ethan’s phone rang. He glanced at the LCD display.

      “Hey, peanut,” he said to his youngest cousin.

      “What’s up?”

      “Would you stop with that peanut stuff?” He grinned when he heard her effort to muffle her response—she wasn’t alone. “No one’s going to listen to me if they hear you.”

      “What? You want me to call you Officer Lowe? Dunno if I can do that, kiddo.”

      “Well, you’re going to have to.” Her voice turned crisp, official. “I need your help. I’m out on a call, and it sounds like your specialty to me.”

      The disgust that had hovered in the back of his mind since the last drug bust he’d worked rushed to the fore-front. His muscles tensed, his stomach turned and his head began to pound. “Maggie…”

      “I know, I know. You left all that behind when you moved here, but Ethan, it’s a death. We’re a small-town department. We don’t have much experience with stuff like this. You, though…all those years—I need you.”

      Ethan ran a hand over his face. He loved his youngest cousin like the sister he’d never had. They’d grown up close, living only two blocks apart. Over the years, he’d defended her against a bully, taught her to drive and convinced his aunt and uncle to let her go into law enforcement in spite of the danger.

      He’d never been able to refuse her anything, but this came close.

      Even though every fiber of his being screamed no, he said, “Where are you?”

      Her sigh of relief told him she hadn’t been as sure of his response as she probably should have been. “Come out west on Ratner Road. You can’t miss the cruisers and the ambulance. We’re in the woods, not fifty feet in.”

      Ethan slipped his phone into his pocket, fighting the urge to call her back and tell her no. It took all his determination to move toward his SUV.

      Art placed an arm over Ethan’s shoulders. “A call from Maggie that does this to you means bad news.”

      Ethan chuckled without humor. “My past doesn’t seem ready to let me go. She’s on a call, a woman’s dead and she thinks it’s drug related.”

      “It’ll be hard,” Art said, his voice compassionate,

      “but look at it from God’s perspective. He had you trained, He had you gain a wealth of experience and knowledge and our Lord doesn’t let things go to waste. I doubt He’s done with that training of yours.”

      “Yeah, but I came to Loganton to get away from it all.” Ethan pulled away to pace. “I had enough—more than enough. The sixteen-year-old who took his last breath in my arms did it. I can’t go back to that.”

      Pain, nausea and a sense of failure filled him. “You can’t imagine what you find when you make a bust. The wasted lives, little kids who watch mom and dad doing drugs…kids who’ll live with those scars for the rest of their lives.” He shuddered. “And no matter how hard you try to fight the good fight, there are more drugs on the street every day. I can’t handle—”

      “But God can. I know how rough the last year has been for you. I know you still struggle with the memories and the nightmares, but God is greater than all that. He’ll see you through even the worst moments—if you let Him.”

      The battle raging in Ethan was one he’d thought he’d packed away in the cobwebs of his subconscious. Evidently, he hadn’t done that good a job.

      “What happened?”

      Tess looked up at the petite police officer, then closed her eyes for a second. Images flew at her, fast and furious. Her heartbeat picked up steam again.

      “I went for a jog,” she said, her voice shaky. “On my way back, some jerk ran out of the woods and knocked me over.” Tess scraped a smear of mud she’d missed on her right knee. “Then I heard a whimper in the woods. I thought the guy might have dumped a pup…” She shuddered. “But I found her instead.”

      The officer pulled a pencil from behind her right ear and a small pad from her breast pocket. “Did you see anyone else come out of the woods? Before you went in? Or through the trees?”

      “No.”

      “Can you describe the man who hit you?”

      Tess shook her head. “I’d been on the phone with Uncle Gordon, and I didn’t notice a thing. All I remember is falling face-first into the mud. Sorry.”

      “And then…?”

      Tess breathed deeply. “Then I went to find who or what I’d heard. As soon as I saw her, I ran to help. She was shaking—a seizure, I think.” She remembered the struggle. “But she fought me…she was strong. And then…then she just quit. That’s when I called 9-1-1.”

      “I’m glad you did.” The officer smiled. “Your name…?”

      With a deep breath, Tess tried to regain her composure. “Tess Graver, Gordon’s niece, great-niece to be precise.”

      “I’m Maggie Lowe.” She sat next to Tess on the scruffy grass at the edge of the road. “New in town?”

      “No. I came