The Runaway Pastor's Wife (24 page)

“Whoa, hold up there, buddy,” his dad called out
from his study. “I think you owe your brother an apology. He’s been counting on
you to help him pick out those shoes for a long time. You promised him.”

Max made the turn and started up the stairs,
calling over his shoulder, “Fine. Jeremy, I apologize. Now, is everyone
satisfied?” He flew up the steps three at a time.

“Max, stop. Right there.” His father stood at
the foot of the staircase. “What’s going on? Jeremy didn’t deserve that kind of
reaction. And I’d like to know where you’ve been. It’s almost 6:30.”

Max stood with his back to his father then
sighed and turned around. His eyes stayed focused on the backpack hanging from
his shoulder. “I had to stay at school a little late, that’s all. Then I took
Megan home and we had a fight. Okay? I’ve got homework to do.”

He could feel his father’s eyes on him. Silence.

Finally, “We’ll talk later.”

He didn’t wait for a response, nor did he get
one.

Upstairs, Max threw his backpack on his bed and
touched the ON button on his CD remote. Guitars and drums blasted, filling the
room. It hammered his soul, matching rhythm with his anxiety. He started to
pull the books from his bag, then decided against it for the moment. In one
swift motion he shoved all of it off on the floor and flopped onto his bed.

Max shut his eyes and tried to put the events of
the last few hours out of his head, but it was too fresh. Images assaulted his
mind. The smirk on Mr. Harrison’s face. The crash of the glass on the floor.
The warmth of Megan’s hands wrapped in his, then the hurt in her eyes as she
began to cry. He remembered the urge he’d had to bite somebody’s head off as he
drove home. And he remembered the battle inside his heart as he flew up the
stairs with his back to his father.

Dad has enough to worry about right now. The
last thing he needs is more fires to put out like this crap from Mr. Harrison.
He’ll find out soon enough when the school calls.

But something his teacher had said was echoing
through the back of his mind. “
My, my, what a temper, Mr. McGregor. No
wonder your mother ran away.”

Max felt a sudden wave of nausea.
How in the
world could Mr. Harrison possibly know about Mom? And even if he did know, why
would he have any reason to think she ran away?
Max rolled over on his
side, cradling his queasiness.
Harrison
was to blame for
everything—the busted window, his fight with Megan, his trouble with Jeremy and
his dad’s disappointment in him. But none of that bothered him half as much as
the gnawing fact that
Harrison
knew about his mother.

CHAPTER 15

The
Texas
Panhandle

A knot of fear tightened in Michael’s stomach. A
state trooper’s cruiser was two cars back. He casually put on his blinker and
changed lanes. The cruiser did the same. Michael changed back to the right lane
and eased back on the accelerator. The cruiser passed him then exited a mile
later.

Michael took a deep breath and blew out a long
sigh. Relieved, he still couldn’t relax. Surely Elliott had put some kind of
APB out on him by now. It didn’t make sense. You don’t escape someone as
powerful as Elliott Thomas. Yet he was already 600 miles out of
Houston
. It
didn’t add up. And
because
it didn’t add up, Michael felt even more
insecure. He decided to get off the highway and find some back roads just to be
safe.

The two-lane road wasn’t shown on Michael’s
U.S.
map.
He needed state maps so he could plot his way to Weber Creek. Three miles down
the road he spotted a run-down gas station that must have been around since the
invention of the automobile. But the gas was cheap and more important, the old
man sitting behind the dusty counter could supply him with maps of
Texas
and
Colorado
. The
proprietor never took his eyes off the tiny black and white television screen.
He was deeply immersed in a
Wheel of Fortune
rerun.

Good. If anyone stops in to ask if he’s seen me,
he won’t know a thing. Thank you, Vanna White.

Michael had driven a couple of hours when he
realized the muscle relaxer had obviously given him the boost he needed to
continue his long drive north. Outside, the temperature was dropping as the
daunting sky continued to release its payload. For a Texan from
Houston
, he
was unaccustomed to driving in frigid conditions like these. He hoped this
country road would remain drivable if the storm got worse. His Escalade might
own the road in
Texas
, but it was an alien to the
rough back roads he now traveled.

A twinge of sadness descended on him as he
looked at the wintry scenes around him. It was far too beautiful. The flat
barren panhandle of
Texas
had delivered him into a
mystical landscape with majestic mountain ranges looming in the distance. These
were visions designed for families on their way to the slopes. Couples heading
for a romantic honeymoon in a secluded chalet. Carloads of college kids
traveling to ski lodges for the weekend.

Much too beautiful for someone running for his
life.

As he followed the narrow road through the
rising mountains, he spotted a roadside store approaching. He pulled off and
steered his car toward the phone booth on the far right side of the old brick
building. The car door flew open once he turned the handle, whipped by a strong
gust of wind. Shivering, he hurried to the booth, grateful it still had a door.
He inched his bandaged hand into the pocket of his sweat pants and pulled out a
handful of change.

“Operator. How may I help you?”

The wind rattled the booth as he backed against
the door to hold it shut. The operator placed the call. In a few moments
Michael heard the familiar voice on the other end of the line.

“Michael!”

“Yeah, Grady, it’s me.”

“Where are you, man? I’ve been worried sick
about you! Why haven’t you called me?”

“Hold on, Brewster. I’m in trouble, man. I’m on
the road—”

“What? Where are you? What’s—”

“Let me finish!” Michael yelled into the
receiver. “Grady, you have no idea what’s been going down in the last 24 hours.
I told you there’s been some trouble. After I met with you the other night,
there was a confrontation between me and Elliot. He’s trying to shut me up. It
was bad, Grady.
Really
bad.”

“What happened? Are you all right?”

“It got really ugly. He pulled a gun on me—”

“He
what?
Michael, are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Well, not exactly. He pulled a
gun and unloaded a couple of bullets into me—”

“He
shot
you?! You must be kidding! He’s
a
United
States
congressman! Guys like that don’t go around shooting people!”

“What, you think I’m making this up?” he yelled.
“He was IN THE CAR with me, Brewster!” He paused, surprised at Grady’s silence.
“Grady . . . look, I’m sorry,” he apologized quietly. “I didn’t
mean to yell at you like that.”

“No, Michael, I’m the one who’s sorry. I just
can’t believe it, that’s all. I’m not saying it didn’t happen. It’s just so
outrageous. What was he thinking? What could be so bad that he—”

“There’s not time for that now. I’ll tell you
all about it later. I just wanted to call you.” Michael slid down onto the
floor. He was dizzy again and chilled to the bone.

“Geez, buddy, are you okay? Where are the bullet
wounds?”

Michael took a deep breath and closed his eyes.
The booth was swaying around him. “One in my shoulder, the other under my ribs
on my right side. I’ve lost a lot of blood.”

“Now you listen to me. You get yourself to a
hospital and I mean now! You can’t fool around with this kind of—”

“I can’t go to a hospital. I have to disappear
for a while. Elliot wants me dead. He
needs
me dead, man, and next time
he won’t miss. I’m not about to give him another chance. I had to get away as
far and as fast as I could. I’ve stopped a few times to clean up these wounds
but I’m not much of a doctor.”

“Then find yourself one! It doesn’t have to be a
hospital. Pull off somewhere and find some small town clinic or—”

“But Grady, I can’t leave a trail behind me. I
can’t stop, can’t take any chances. I’ll get help as soon as I reach my
destination.”

“Where are you headed? I’ll hop on a plane and—”

“No, Grady. Don’t. Stay right where you are. I
need you where I can reach you once I get there.”

“So where are you going?” An audible edge
filtered Grady’s voice.

“I don’t want to say. They can’t beat it out of
you if you don’t know.”

“Are you crazy? Nobody’s gonna come asking
me
about all this! You’re not thinking rationally. You’re being completely
paranoid, Dean. Just tell me where—”

“No! I can’t take that chance!” He shivered,
trying to stay focused. “I’ll call you in a few hours. I need time to think,
time to figure out what I’m going to do. In the meantime, I need you to write
this number down for me and keep it somewhere safe—89. It’s the number of a
locker at the bus station in
Plainview
,
Texas
. If
anything happens to me, you give that number to the authorities and tell them
where it’s located. There’s a lot of evidence in a packet there. Documentation,
that sort of thing. But swear to me, you won’t breathe a word of that to
anybody unless something happens to me. Swear to me, Grady.”

“Okay, okay! I swear. Do I need to go get it
now? Are you there in
Plainview
now?”

“No, I’m not in
Plainview
. And
don’t even think of going after that yourself. Leave it to the authorities. And
only if something goes down. I have the only key, so the police would have to
order the postal employees to open it. Just promise me you’ll pursue it, but
only if something happens to me. Promise me!” Michael heard another frustrated
sigh over the phone line.

“Fine. Whatever you say.”

“Grady, my whole life is slipping out from under
me . . . I don’t know what to do. I just need to get somewhere
safe so I can think. I need to think. That’s all. I need to
think . . .”

“Okay, Michael. Have it your way. I’m here for
you. Just don’t take so long to call me back. I want to hear from you again in
a couple of hours, you got that?”

“I’ll do my best. Hey, I’m sorry. I’m—” His
voice cracked.

“Hey, don’t go soft on me, man. You hang in
there, okay? You can do it. I’m going to help you get through this. We’ll
handle Elliot. But you’ve got to
let
me help you. Okay?”

Michael swallowed hard. “Yeah, I will. I
promise. Thanks, man.”

He climbed his way up the wall of the phone
booth and replaced the receiver. He fell against the door again, frightened by
his weakened condition.
Gotta keep driving. Gotta get to Christine’s. I
gotta make it . . .

He straightened himself as best he could, still
cradling his throbbing right side. He slowly made his way back into his car
then fell into the driver’s seat.
Take more muscle relaxers. You’re never
gonna make it like this.
He grabbed the bottle of pills and poured several
into the palm of his hand then swallowed them with a gulp of cold coffee
.

Backing out the car, he rolled down the front
windows with the press of a button. The arctic blast of air hit him like a
brick of ice, awaking every sense in his body. He drove only a few miles before
his shivering fingers reached for the automatic window button to close them.

The winding road beckoned him closer and closer
to his refuge. Only a couple more hours and he could relax. Christine could
find a doctor for him. She’d put him up for a while, at least until he could
come up with a plan.

Christine. Crazy Christine . . .

His delirious mind took a detour back to
college. It was early summer following his senior year at
Oklahoma
State
. With
the College World Series only days behind him, he waited impatiently for the
upcoming November baseball draft, hoping to land a major league contract. To
stay in shape, he played on a local semi-pro team for the summer. His
girlfriend had joined a group of friends on an extended graduation trip to
Hawaii
.
Christine, her best friend, had planned to go but had to back out at the last
minute when her father had a sudden heart attack.

Christine.
Always the life of the
party. She had one of those husky voices from too many years of cheerleading.
He could still hear the contagious sound of her raucous laughter. But aside
from her enormous popularity, everyone knew how close she was to her father.
With Christine’s mother deceased, her dad bought an apartment in
Stillwater
where
he lived part of the year so he could be close to Christine while she was in
college. Occasionally he would visit the family vacation home in
Colorado
, but
when he wasn’t traveling on business—which was most of the time—he stayed in
Stillwater
.
Christine loved having him close by.