with the meeting, she had every intention of calling her brother, Lieutenant Jace Tucker, and filling him in on the house and the woman. If her instincts were correct—and they usually were—that was a woman who needed help.
It might be nothing. But Irene knew she wouldn’t rest easy until she had called. Maybe Jace wouldn’t be able to do anything, but there was always the possibility that the police would keep a closer eye on the area.
Irene was very familiar with the police. Not only was her older brother a lieutenant, but she’d been married to a cop for six years, six wonderful years, before he’d been killed in the line of duty a little over three years ago.
The familiar ache in her chest when she thought of Tony was almost comforting.
Once inside the warm house, she was escorted into the dining room. She focused on the young family. The little boy she was there to evaluate was adorable, his little head bald except for a light fuzz. He was almost two years old, and had just been diagnosed with a vision impairment. Irene’s job as the service coordinator was to decide if the child qualified for Early Intervention services. The meeting was merely a formality. Having a diagnosis almost always guaranteed that he would receive services.
In less than an hour, the meeting was completed and Irene was pushing her feet back into her winter boots.
“I will call you when I have the IFSP meeting scheduled,” she told the mother, referring to the Individualized Family Service Plan meeting with the family and the therapists who would become part of the little boy’s team.
After bidding the Zilchers goodbye, she pulled the door open and stepped outside. It had started to snow while she was inside. She tried to keep her focus on her car, but it was no use. The other house drew her gaze like a magnet.
The man was probably still home. There were three vehicles in the driveway—a truck, a Jeep and a small sedan. But no one was standing outside. The man must have gone inside.
Relief coursed through her. And quite a bit of embarrassment. Imagine getting so upset because someone was watching her! What a goose she was! It wasn’t like he had threatened her or anything like that.
Getting to her car, she frowned. Her door wasn’t locked. She must have been so rattled by that man that she’d forgotten to lock it. She shrugged. It wasn’t out of the norm to leave doors unlocked in LaMar Pond, especially out on the back roads. She had friends who didn’t even lock their house doors at night.
She quickly climbed into the car and shut the door, making sure to lock it the moment she was inside. After starting the car, she turned up the heat to help rid herself of some of the chill, not all of which was from the weather. Lifting her head, she froze.
There, in the Zilcher family’s front room window, a large Christmas tree sparkled and shimmered. The tree hadn’t been lit when she’d arrived or she would have noticed it, no matter how freaked-out she had been. It was probably on an automatic timer. It was beautiful, looking at it through the snow. She swallowed the lump in her throat. She wasn’t looking forward to Christmas, just a few weeks away. It would be the third since Tony’s death. Her boys would go through another holiday without their father. A father little Matthew hardly remembered. He’d only been two. Now he was five. Seven-year-old AJ had more memories, but had forgotten so many details. It broke her heart.
A soft ping signaled an incoming text. Irene sighed. And this would be her mom, asking her to attend late-night services with her and the family on Christmas Eve. Just like Irene used to do every year before God abandoned her and her babies. She glanced at her phone. Oh, yeah. Just as she thought. She would hear about it later, but she was going to just ignore the text. For now.
A door slammed. Startled, her head jerked up in the direction of the sound. It had come from the man’s house.
He was back, his eyes burning with anger. She could almost feel the menace emanating from him. Thankfully, he wasn’t looking at her. He appeared to be searching for something, though, as his dark gaze swept over his yard.
Dropping her phone, Irene put her car into Reverse and started to back out of the driveway. Thankfully, there was no traffic on the road, so she could pull onto the street, away from the man, without waiting. But moments later, she heard a shout.
He was running her way!
Panicked now, she jerked the gearshift into Drive and peeled out. The vehicle fishtailed. Her grip tightened on the wheel. It straightened out and she continued, exhaling in relief.
Steering her SUV up the hill, she drove as fast as she dared before braking for the stop sign at the T on top of the hill. There was only one car coming. She edged her car forward, ready to turn right. She waited for the other driver to pass, drumming her fingers nervously on the steering wheel.
Come on. Come on.
Her back windshield shattered.
Irene screamed. What had just happened? A look in the rearview mirror confirmed her nightmare. The pickup truck she’d seen in the neighbor’s drive was right on her bumper, and the man with the black beard was leaning out the window, some sort of rifle in his hand. She wasn’t going to give him the chance to take a second shot. She shoved her foot down on the gas and whipped her car forward. She drove as fast as she could. She couldn’t stop now to call the police. If she didn’t concentrate on getting out of here, he’d get her for sure. But the moment she could pull over...
She heard a roar behind her. A glance in the mirror showed the pickup was coming up on her bumper. It was moving faster than she was, dangerously fast given the slick condition of the roads.
Now would be a good time to pray...if she still did that.
Since she didn’t, she was on her own.
The truck slammed into the back of her SUV. She shrieked and pushed her foot down as hard as she dared on the gas pedal. She had never been so grateful for four-wheel drive. Pushing her foot down a little farther, the SUV lurched as it sped up. The truck stayed on her tail, then slammed into her again. Her SUV went into a full spin and slid off the road into a ditch. She was stuck.
Tears tracked down her cheeks. She was going to die! Her babies would be completely orphaned. Suddenly, her boycott on God no longer mattered. There was no one else who could help her.
Lord, help me. Please. Oh, please. Help.
* * *
Chief Paul Kennedy was driving back from a two-vehicle accident on the outskirts of LaMar Pond when the dispatcher announced shots fired near his location. A young woman had called 911, screaming that her neighbor was shooting at her son’s service coordinator and had taken off in his truck after her.
Paul switched on his siren and pushed the hands-free button to answer the call. “Chief Kennedy here. I’m less than a mile away, heading that direction now. Send backup.”
Disconnecting as soon as she confirmed, he said a prayer for the safety of all involved. It was never pleasant to handle road rage. Adding a gun and winter weather into the mix could prove to be a disaster in the making.
He came around the curve, his headlights cutting through the dark. The snowflakes caught in the beams made him think of a snow globe. Then they hit a sight that chilled his heart.
A red SUV was stranded in a ditch. He knew that SUV. It belonged to Irene Martello, his best friend’s younger sister. The girl whose
