you have a current address?"
"No, but he had a lot of friends here. I'm sure I can find someone who has it."
"Thanks. I'll let you know if I need anything else." He glanced at the twisted wreckage of the two cars and then back at her.
"Jeremiah got lucky."
"Yes, he did," she said, trying not to picture him being the one dead behind the wheel. Her breath caught in her throat as the mental image filled her mind anyway.
"And I thought you were the one with nine lives," Mark said.
Cindy shrugged.
"You're not heading to the hospital?"
"No."
He made a tsking sound. "Sounds like divorce court time to me."
She shook her head and rolled her eyes before turning to head back into the church.
As Cindy walked back into the office and took her seat Geanie hopped up out of her chair and walked over. "What happened?" Geanie, the church's graphic designer and webmaster, saved her most creative and flamboyant work for her own wardrobe. True to form she was wearing a fuchsia satin blouse, black leather skirt, pink tights and black boots. Roy, the head pastor, was perpetually dismayed by Geanie's style but church members usually made a point of stopping by the office when they were on site just to see the day's ensemble.
Next to her, as always, Cindy felt extremely conservative even though the sheer sleeves of her cream blouse had seemed so risqué at home.
As Cindy filled her in, she watched in satisfaction as Geanie registered the same shock she herself was feeling.
"That's terrible!"
"I know. At least Jeremiah wasn't hurt, but poor Dr.Tanner."
"Going in a car crash, that's one of my nightmares," Geanie said with a shiver.
"Jeremiah told the officers that he thought Dr. Tanner was already dead," Cindy said, more to herself than Geanie.
"That's just weird."
"I know."
The front door opened and the youth pastor walked in, wearing his almost-perpetual blue jeans, paired today with a green polo shirt. Because of his position he got by with the casual Friday look every day of the week except Sunday. "Wow, did you guys see that accident out front?" Dave asked.
"Cindy did," Geanie answered.
"What a nightmare."
"Dr. Tanner is dead," Cindy said.
Dave turned pale and sat down in one of the chairs reserved for visitors. "Are you kidding?"
"No, why would I kid about something like that?"
He buried his face in his hands and his shoulders heaved.Geanie gave her a puzzled look as the implication hit Cindy."He drove the bus to camp every year," she realized."Even after he moved and changed churches."
"Summer camps and winter camps. He was a wonderful man," Dave said. "So good with the kids, so patient. I never knew how he could pay attention to the road with all the noise and chaos around him."
"He was a very nice man," Cindy said, going over and awkwardly patting him on the shoulder.
"I'm going to call Joseph and let him know," Geanie said. "I think the two of them sat on a couple of boards together."
"Why don't you go tell him in person," Cindy suggested.Joseph Coulter was the church's most affluent member. He and Geanie had been dating since Thanksgiving and she was sure he'd rather hear the news from his girlfriend than from someone else.
"Thanks, I'll be back before your lunch meeting," Geanie said, grabbing her purse and heading for the door.
"I'd appreciate it."
Geanie waved as she walked out the door.
After Geanie left, Cindy turned to Dave. "We've almost got a full slate of kids for next weekend. I'd better work on finding you another driver."
"Thanks," Dave said, dragging himself to his feet. "A couple of other churches are having retreats at the same time. I'll call around and see if any of them have room on their buses."
"Do you have Dr. Tanner's address? The police were asking for it."
Dave nodded. "In my office, I'll email it to you."
"Thanks."
He shuffled to the door, then turned. "How are we doing on food for the drive up?"
"Lunch bags will have corned beef sandwiches, courtesy of O'Connell's Pub, and shamrock cookies from Safeway."
"You're a genius."
"Hey, the second day of camp is on St. Patrick's Day. It was a no-brainer."
He smiled slightly. "You've been hanging around the kids too long. You're starting to sound like them."
"There are a lot worse things to sound like."
"Amen."
Detective Mark Walters was not happy. Ever since his dog, Buster, had woken him up that morning he'd had a feeling in his gut that the day was not going to go his way.
Being a homicide cop was challenging on the best of days, nightmarish on the worst. In the past year the worst days he'd had all involved Cindy and Jeremiah. Seeing them together, even though it had been at the scene of an accident, had made his blood run cold.
He called his partner, Paul Dryer, on his cell phone.
"Accident or murder?" Paul asked.
"Accident, so far as I can tell. If it wasn't, though, we'll know soon enough."
"What are the odds, huh?"
Mark snorted. "You ever meet civilians who got mixed up in stuff as much as these two?"
"Once," Paul admitted.
"Really? What happened?"
"It didn't end well," Paul said, voice suddenly devoid of emotion.
There's a story there. Out of respect for his partner, Mark didn't push. "Cindy just called me with the doctor's address and I'm going to have a couple of guys go to his house and reach out to the next of kin. Then I'm heading back to the station."
"Good. We've got actual homicides to investigate."
Mark hung up. Paul was acting touchy. Mark wondered if it had anything to do with the story he wasn't telling.
When
