One Chance: A Thrilling Christian Fiction Mystery Romance (3 page)

"That's not what I meant, sir." Penelope had no doubt that she could handle something this big. Her faith prepared her for moments like this.

"I know," the Sheriff replied. "I've lived in Franklin all my life, too, and I'm well aware that you grew up with both of them. That's the other reason you have the case."

"I don't follow," Penelope said, honestly confused.

"Penelope, you have a heart of gold," the Sheriff told her. "That's what people love about you and why they respect you. I know you can do this because you have the determination to get to the bottom of it for both of their sakes. You won't play favorites. You'll be fair, and you'll be honest."

Penelope perked up a little at that. It was good to know where she stood with her boss. Took some of the pressure off.

"I guess the biggest thing is that I'm not looking forward to the arrest," she said.

"I know, Penelope, and I appreciate how hard this is going to be for you," the Sheriff told her. "I also know that you are the only one I've got who can handle this the right way. Oh, the rest of my guys are good. But you're better. It's that whole honest girl scout thing you've got going on."

"I put my faith in God, sir," Penelope said, not bragging, just stating a fact. "It makes me who I am."

"See, now that right there is what I mean. This case is going to require a lot of faith and trust," the Sheriff said as he rose from his chair. "When it comes to that, you are the one I trust." He turned and headed back to his office.

"Sheriff, do you want me to arrest him tonight?" Penelope asked before John had taken two steps.

Sheriff Jackson turned around and looked at her as if she'd spoken in Ancient Greek.

"The reason I ask," Penelope added quickly, "is because his vehicle will need to be brought in and processed for evidence and you know where he lives. He won't be able to go anywhere."

"Now, Penelope—" the Sheriff began.

"I'm off for the next two days and I could have him stay with me to make sure." She paused to see what effect her words were having. "Please, Sheriff. Let me at least do this until we have a signed complaint."

"Pete hasn't signed it yet?"

Penelope jumped on that. "No sir. Pete's not in any shape to be signing anything right now."

John thought for a moment and sighed, relenting. "Okay, but only for the weekend. If anything changes, if something else comes up, I'll expect you to be the one to bring him in without delay."

"Yes sir, I will. Thank you, sir," Penelope said. "I'll pick him up at the end of my shift tonight. Will that be soon enough?"

"Thought your shift was already over?" the Sheriff pointed out.

"Well, yes, it is, but—"

"Then that'll be just fine," the Sheriff said with a note of finality to his voice. He turned and went back to his office, leaving Penelope with her orders.

CHAPTER 5

Doug staggered out of The Last Chance Tavern after having one too many. Well, a few too many, probably. Why did he always order that one more beer? Every single time he promised himself that he wouldn't do it again. But then, every time, he did it again.

As he stumbled across the small dirt parking lot to his pickup, he noticed Deputy Penelope Chance leaning against the hood of her police cruiser.

"Heya Penny," Doug said, his words having taken on that distinctive alcohol slur, "didja catch any crooks today?"

Penelope looked at Doug with more than a small amount of pity and thought about the events that led her lifelong best friend on the path of destruction.

Here was the elephant in the room everyone had been turning a blind eye to. Doug and her weren't just friends. Once upon a time, they had been the best of friends.

"Not yet," she answered Doug's question, the irony of it weighing heavy on her. "Been waiting for you to come out so I can take you home. I don't want to bring you in for DUI."

"Ain't gonna hap'n," Doug drawled. "I'm plannin' t' sleep in my truck 'til mornin' b'fore I go home."

Penelope said, "I can't let you do that, Doug. I'll just take you home. You can stay the night. We'll talk in the morning."

"Thanks, buddy," Doug said with a cheerful smile, patting Penelope's shoulder. "I 'preciate that Penny. My gardien anjshul, tha's wutsha are."

Penelope smiled at Doug as she had him climb into the back of the cruiser. The other officers wouldn't take the truck until she was far enough away that Doug wouldn't see them do it. Penelope had already seen the front end and snapped a few pictures. It was pretty obvious what had caused the damage.

As Doug settled into the back seat, already half asleep, Penelope gripped the steering wheel hard and headed the cruiser out onto the road. It was going to be a short night, and a difficult conversation in the morning, when she told a more sober Doug that he was the prime suspect in an attempted murder. Nearly as hard as telling him who the victim was.

CHAPTER 6

At nine o'clock Saturday morning, Doug's eyes opened. He felt a little better than he had when he came home, but he was still feeling rough around the edges. His eyes were still blurry from drink and sleep. The memory of last night was all fuzzy around the edges. He didn't even remember making it home. Not the first time for that.

After a quick trip to relieve himself in the bathroom, where he splashed cold water on his face and ran his wet hands over his brown crew-cut hair, he trudged into the kitchen to make himself some breakfast. Something to settle his stomach. He was always famished after a night of drinking.

He blinked rapidly when he saw Penelope seated at the small table eating eggs, bacon and toast. There was another plate of the same set out with a large mug of black coffee next to it. He looked past Penelope, looked around the room, and only then did it hit him. This wasn't his house.

"What's going on, Penny?" Doug asked, seating himself at the table.

"Just breakfast," she replied.

Doug grinned and said, "No, I mean why did you bring me to your house last night?"

"I have the weekend off," Penelope said. "Haven't spent time with my best buddy in a while, so it seemed like a good idea." It was a lie with just enough truth in it that she hoped Doug would buy it, at least long enough to have breakfast.

"Not to mention you didn't want me driving while I was drunk," Doug said as he stuffed most of an egg in his mouth and washed it down with the coffee.

"Yeah. That too," Penelope said as she brought her plates to the sink. She poured herself another cup of coffee. "I do need to talk to you about something when you finish. I'll be in the living room."

Penelope left the kitchen and sat down in one of the two overstuffed recliners in the room.

Lord
, she prayed,
please let him understand and not be upset with me.

That last part seemed a little selfish once it was out there.
You know what I mean
, she added.

Several minutes later Doug came in the room and sat across from Penelope on the sofa. "Okay, buddy. So what do we need to talk about?" he asked.

Penelope blew out a long breath. "No easy way to say this, Doug, so let me just tell the facts as I know them, okay? We had us an attempted murder in Franklin last night."

The surprise on Doug's face was honest and genuine. And Penelope took note of that. "What?" he asked. "Who was it? Are they okay? Who did it? Do you know yet? Man alive, Penelope, what are you doing here? Go get the guy!"

"Pete Lamb is the victim and he's going to be okay," Penelope said, ignoring the rest of Doug's questions for now. "Got banged up real bad, but Jacob says he'll be all right. Eventually."

"Somebody tried to kill Pete?"

Penelope nodded.

"Why would anyone do that? He never hurt anybody."

"That's what we'd like to know," Penelope replied, spreading her hands in a helpless kind of gesture.

Doug was speechless for a few moments. "Wow. But he's going to be all right?"

Penelope nodded again.

Doug's thoughts turned back to the question of why Penelope had brought him here last night. "So what does this have to do with me?" he asked, not sure he wanted to know.

Lord, help me choose the right words
, Penelope asked, sighing and rubbing her eyes. She hadn't slept much last night. "Pete swears it was your truck that hit him."

There
, Penelope thought,
that gets a large cat out of a tiny bag.

"My truck?" Doug said, stunned, his voice rising in pitch. "Uh-uh. No way. Pete said that?"

"Do you really need me to answer that? We wouldn't be sitting here otherwise."

Doug sagged back onto the couch. "No, I guess not. But why would he say it was me?"

"Your truck is pretty identifiable. Those red flames on that blue paintjob and all."

The friends sat in uncomfortable silence for a few minutes that stretched out like hours. Doug stood, walked into the kitchen and poured what was left of his coffee down the sink. He'd visited here many times over the years and Penelope always insisted that he should feel at home. The fact was, he did feel at home here.

Back in the living room he sat down on the couch again, holding his head in his hands.

"So, Pete says I ran him down," Doug said, mostly to himself. "Well, I think I would remember something like that no matter how drunk I was."

"Pete swears it was your truck, Doug, but he never saw who was driving," Penelope told him. "Of course, it's common knowledge that no one drives that truck but you, so adding two and two together—"

"Now, wait a second, Penny!" Doug was beginning to get upset. He was worried for Pete, sure, but enough was enough.

Penelope held up a hand. "Hold on, hold on. I didn't say I believe it was you. I said that was the logical conclusion. But you and me and Pete have been friends for a long time and I really can't stomach the idea that this was you."

"That's because it wasn't me!" Doug exclaimed. "Wait. So that's why you—"

Penelope finished the sentence for him. "Brought you home last night. Right. We've brought your truck in to process it for evidence. I saw the damage on it myself." She didn't mention that she'd also seen blood on the cracked headlight.

"So I'm kind of like, under house arrest? Here in your house?"

Penelope shrugged her shoulders. "If you want to look at it that way. I'm just asking you to stay here for a day or two, until we get this figured out."

Doug couldn't believe it. He shook his head again and again. "There has to be a mistake. I don't remember hitting anybody. Or anything!"

"You're sure, Doug? Maybe a deer or something? Maybe before you got to The Last Chance Tavern?" Penelope was grasping at straws.

"Before I got to The Last Chance?" Doug repeated. "No way. I'm one hundred percent certain I didn't hit anyone or anything before I got there. Not a person, not a deer, not a squirrel. Nothing."

"How can you be so sure, Doug?"

"Because I wasn't drunk on my way there, Penny. Oh, I had one beer with my supper at The Pizza Palace." He thought for a moment and said, "Then I went to Ricky's Pub for a drink. But that's it. Not enough to get drunk."

Penelope didn't enjoy interrogating her best friend, but she needed to know what Doug remembered. "You're sure about that?"

"Yes," Doug said, frustrated.

Penelope leaned back into the chair and said, "Well, I believe your story, but I won't guarantee anyone else will."

"I know you, Penny. I know you'll check out what I just told you. But I'm telling you, you'll find out I'm telling you the truth. You know I could never lie to you."

"Only because you're such a bad liar," Penelope told him, managing a tight smile.

*

Less than an hour later, Penelope got a call from the Sheriff himself. The thieves had indeed attempted to take Mister Abernathy's car, just as Penelope had predicted. The Sheriff was calling from home to congratulate her on a job well done. On a weekend. Penelope suspected there was more to it than that.

"I'd like you to come in and finish up the paperwork, Penelope," the Sheriff told her. "You've got the most information about this case."

"Uh, sure thing, Sheriff," Penelope answered, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"How's your houseguest?" Sheriff Jackson asked abruptly.

Just like she'd guessed, this was what the Sheriff really wanted.

Penelope let the Sheriff know she had dropped the news on Doug. When she asked what she should do about Doug being left alone at his house, the Sheriff seemed to think it would be safe to leave him there so long as he didn't go anywhere. Penelope promised the Sheriff for Doug. Doug agreed to it only because he had no other choice.

So back into work Penelope went, day off or no. She'd driven Doug home in the cruiser, so it was ready and waiting for her in the driveway.

*

Twenty minutes later Penelope was sitting at her desk, interrogating the main suspect in the case of the stolen cars. To Penelope's amusement the guy had been left still wearing the ridiculously stuffed brassiere. The young man's name was Pedro Gonzales, originally from Miami, and he was taking classes at the University of Florida in Gainesville. The guy's partner, Bill Macos, was in the holding cell, waiting his turn to be interviewed.

"So," Penelope prompted Mister Gonzales, "tell me why you and Bill were stealing red Buicks."

Pedro seemed a little embarrassed, but more than willing to talk. "We're pledges for a fraternity, ma'am. We had to do it for our initiation."

"Had to?" Penelope pressed.

Pedro shrugged. The stuffed brazier jiggled.

"Which fraternity?" Penelope asked. But that question the guy wouldn't answer. Apparently getting his buddies in trouble crossed some line for him. "Okay," Penelope went on, "so now it's all on you and Bill. I don't have any choice but to call your parents and I'm sure they'll make you withdraw from college."

"No, please don't do that," the young man said. "I'm supposed to be the first doctor in my family. My mother, she'd never forgive me, you know?"