Pastor's Assignment (8 page)

Seventeen

Three days later, Ty drove his car into the high school parking lot. He spotted Laney instantly, standing beside her van and looking barely old enough to drive it. In her arms, Angel appeared to be the size of a football, and Ty imagined the dog couldn't have a brain much larger than a pea. He fought the urge to drive right past Laney, past the expectant smile on her face, and past the button-bright eyes of the papillon. He wanted to gun the motor and head back into the land of sanity where there was no risk of hurting his professional reputation.

He rubbed his chin impatiently. It didn't help that he had never seen a woman who looked less likely to find a gun in a locker than Laney did. She looked fragile and innocent, vulnerable and slightly lost in the nearly empty parking lot.

He jerked the car into gear and swung into the parking spot next to Laney's minivan. Because his heart jumped when she smiled at him, he scowled as fiercely as he could.

“Angel is ready,” Laney said. She must have given the dog an unseen signal, because it began waving its paw at him gaily. Ty frowned at the papillon. Drug-, bomb-, and firearms-sniffing canines did not wave at people.

“He's very pleased to help,” Laney continued. The little dog yipped as if in affirmation.

Ty's frown increased with the ridiculous thought that the dog would see his expression and imitate it. The hairy football, however, grinned at him. Ty shook his head. It was those ears, huge, upright wings, that gave the dog no credibility whatsoever. This wasn't the sort of dog that could save a school from a shooting. It looked like a small cat could beat the stuffing out of it.

“Maybe this isn't such a good idea,” Ty said tactfully. “Five years is a long time for a dog to remember everything about sniffing out weapons.”

“Don't worry,” Laney said. “If a gun is in the building, Angel will find it. I hid my father's M-54 under my mattress for practice. Angel found it in five minutes.”

“That's not a gun,” Ty said. He was so surprised his face twisted in horror. “That's a bazooka. Do you realize if that gun went off, it could shoot through two floors?”

“It's not a bazooka,” Laney corrected calmly. “It's classified as an automatic handgun.”

Ty grunted to indicate he disregarded her definition. Didn't she realize she could have blown off her head? “What was your father thinking to let you borrow it?”

Laney looked briefly at the ground then back up at Ty, who groaned. “Tell me you didn't steal the gun from him.”

“I didn't steal the gun,” Laney said softly. “I borrowed it.” She paused. “I'll put it back tonight.”

Ty slapped his forehead with his hand. “This is just great,” he said. “Why search the school for illegal firearms when we can find a stolen M-54 under your mattress?”

“It's not under my mattress anymore,” Laney informed him, looking smug. “It's in the front seat of the minivan, inside the lasagna pan I borrowed from Mother Tilly.”

“That's supposed to make me feel better?” Ty frowned down at her. “I can just see you hitting a pothole and taking down a helicopter.”

Laney raised her hand to shield her eyes from the sun. “Very funny. I happen to hold the 1985 Junior Miss Sharpshooter title for the state of Texas.”

Ty drew an exaggerated breath, as if this news were monumental. “No wonder Mother Tilly is scared,” he said.

Laney frowned. “She doesn't have to worry, and neither do you. I know all about safety catches.”

“When I'm around you, there is no such thing as safety,” Ty muttered. “I'm beginning to feel sorry for Rock.”

“Fine,” Laney said. “Feel sorry for him all you want, but spare me the details.” She turned on her heel and shot him a look. “I've got lockers to search.”

Ty waited until her back was fully turned before he released the smile he'd been struggling to hide for the last five minutes. He wanted to shake her for playing with guns; at the same time, he wanted to laugh until his ribs ached. He could accuse her of many things, but he couldn't deny that when he was around her the blood pumped gladly through his veins, the air sang in his lungs, and the sunlight held an electric touch on his skin.

For a moment, he allowed himself to imagine that light coming into his house, blasting away the shadows, filling the empty spaces with something that had been absent for a long time—the sense of joy.

And then he reminded himself that she was engaged to another man and her father was his opponent in a close race for sheriff. And if that wasn't enough, he'd been left at the altar and cleaned out financially.

Holding these thoughts firmly, Ty pushed the smile to the back of his mind, arranged his features into his best professional scowl, and walked toward the front door of the high school.

Ty studied the locked doorway for a moment then took a slim tool out of his pocket. He inserted the piece of metal into the keyhole, twisting and simultaneously throwing his shoulder against the door. With a loud popping sound, the door flung open.

When they entered the building, Ty's heart began to pound. Everything his eyes took in—the glossy, waxed floors; the walls painted an ugly, toxic green; the stainless steel water fountain—reminded him of another school and another time.

For once, he welcomed the ghosts that swirled around him. A sour smell filled Ty's nostrils. “What's that smell?” Ty looked at Angel suspiciously.

“It's not Angel,” Laney replied. “Maybe it's the school.” She lifted the hair off the back of her neck with her one free hand. “It's hot in here. They must have turned the air-conditioning down for the weekend.” She held the dog in the air, just under Ty's nose. “Here, take a whiff.”

The last thing Ty wanted to do was smell the hairy dog raised like a sacrifice to his nose. He had no choice, however, but to sniff the dog that was close enough to lick his face and who proceeded to do exactly that. Although he made a sound of disgust, the hot pink tongue that washed his face comforted him. “Some police dog,” he muttered. “Probably aced the classes in licking criminals to death.”

Laney giggled softly. “Nope, but he was the only dog in his class that could do a handstand.”

Ty stopped in his tracks. “What?”

Laney tugged his arm. “Come on. Do you want to check lockers or not?”

“Yes, but with a dog that does handstands?”

“He has many talents.” She took a step forward. “Let's get going. We've got a lot of ground to cover.”

Ty shrugged off the feeling of impending doom and followed her. He was only too glad to get off the subject of the dog. “You seem to know your way around here pretty well.”

“I went to school here,” Laney replied. “And you know our church meets in the gymnasium.” She pointed to a door on their right. “There's the biology classroom. Want to see the exact spot where I threw up when we were dissecting frogs?”

“I'll pass on that,” Ty said, swallowing hard his own memory of hundreds of frogs hopping out of the biology classroom as Mickey triumphantly herded them to safety.

Coming to the double doors, Ty stopped Laney again and peered covertly into the dark recesses of the stairwell. Satisfied that all was clear, he moved them up the stairs to the second floor.

Starting at the far left of the building, they began searching lockers.

It was slow work. First Laney let Angel sniff the bottom of the locker, and then she held him up to the vents so he could smell the upper half. The little dog moved slowly around the perimeters of the lockers, his big ears upright and alert, his black nose delicately brushing the metal surfaces.

For the most part, Ty watched with his arms crossed. He had a feeling they were on a wild goose chase, that even if the contents necessary to build an atom bomb were within one of these lockers, Angel would walk right past it. That meant he was there for only one reason, and that reason was standing right in front of him. The thought did little to improve his mood.

He disciplined himself not to speak to her for the first thirty minutes, and then he got bored with the silence. “So how's the studying for the premarital exam going?”

Laney lifted the dog. “Fine,” she said. “We've been through three volumes of the cookbooks.”

Ty grinned. “What about studying things about you? Does he know about you being a black belt and winning that sharpshooting title and Angel's degree from doggie Quantico?”

Laney swallowed visibly. Ty tried not to enjoy her look of discomfort. She didn't have to tell him Rock didn't know these things; he saw it in her eyes. He was about to continue teasing her when he heard a noise.

“Get Angel,” he hissed at Laney. “Someone's coming.”

After giving Ty a quick, agonized look at the thought of discovery, Laney sprang into action. She ran after Angel, startling the dog so badly he bolted. “Angel!” she called.

Ty turned at the panic in her voice. He watched the dog disappear down the long corridor. He twisted the knob of a nearby classroom and found it locked. “Forget the dog,” he ordered.

Other classrooms proved to be locked. Now the sound of footsteps echoed more loudly, and he heard the click of a door opening.

Ty tried another door. As it swung open, he pulled Laney inside a small, dark room. He banged his head on a shelf and knocked a roll of toilet paper into the metal bucket at his feet. Two brooms hit him in the back of the head as he wiggled deeper into the shallow closet, pulling Laney after him.

A metal bucket was between his feet, and an electric floor polisher pressed into his leg. The room smelled of disinfectants and detergent. Laney's head brushed his shoulder, smelling of lilacs and summer, sunshine, and something so faint he bent closer, trying to define it.

He ordered himself to pull back, as if he commanded troops that faced sure and complete annihilation if the retreat were not imminent.

“Ty?”

He heard Angel whine just outside the door. The dog must have heard Laney's voice.

“Ty?”

Pressing himself deeper into the closet, he bumped a shelf. The next thing he knew, something hard clunked him on the top of his head.

“Ouch.” He instantly promised never to purchase powdered cleanser again, if that's what the can turned out to be.

Laney giggled. “Are you okay?”

Before he could reply, the door to the broom closet swung open. A small woman with big hair teased into a great yellow bouffant stared back at him.

“Mrs. Henley!” Laney exclaimed in a voice so falsely bright that Ty cringed. “How nice to see you again.” Laney stepped out of the broom closet with her chin held high. Ty caught the push broom before it hit her in the back.

The muscles in the older woman's neck quivered before any words came out. “Laney Varner? What are you doing in that broom closet? And who is this man?”

“Detective Ty Steele,” Ty said, deftly stepping around the tipped metal bucket and ignoring the can of cleanser that rolled out behind him.

Mrs. Henley's eyes narrowed from behind her red, wire-rimmed glasses. “You're the one running for sheriff.” Her right eyebrow arched. “I'm sure there's a good reason for all that clanging around in the broom closet.”

Laney turned brick red. “It's not what you think,” she said.

“We're here on police business,” Ty said, aware of how absurd this sounded yet saying it anyway.

“Police business?” Mrs. Henley asked. “I suppose you're checking to see if our electric floor buffer is up to code.”

Laney threw her shoulders back. “Detective Steele and I are spot-checking lockers,” she said. “Our canine officer is on site.”

“Canine officer?”

Laney pointed at the papillon that had recovered from its fright and now nosed curiously around the principal's ankles.

The older woman squinted at the dog. “That's a canine officer?” She sniffed. “And underneath this gray suit I'm wearing a Wonder Woman costume.”

The thought of the strict principal in a superhero costume nearly undid Ty. Before he could stop himself, he glanced sideways at Laney, who had her hand smashed over her mouth. As their gazes met, Laney's face attained the deepest shade of red he'd ever seen.

“You may joke, ma'am,” Ty said quietly, “but we've received an anonymous tip that one of your students may be hiding arms on the premises.”

Mrs. Henley put her hands on her hips. “A student hiding guns? No way. Somebody is playing a joke here.” She looked pointedly at Ty.

“It's no joke,” Ty replied.

“I suppose your tip told you there were machine guns in the broom closet?” The woman's hairdo seemed to puff out in a mute statement of incredulity.

Laney looked at the ground. Her shoulders shook. This didn't help Ty's own suicidal urge to laugh. Since when had he lost his senses? “I can assure you we're here on police business.”

Mrs. Henley's eyes blinked rhythmically as she considered Ty's words. She frowned as Ty held her gaze without flinching. Angel, evidently bored from the discussion, trotted down the aisle. He began sniffing at the lockers then stopped in front of one and began to bark.

“That's his cry!” Laney said in amazement. “He's found something.”

“It's illegal to search a locker without a warrant,” the principal said. Her eyes hardened. “Come back with a search warrant.”

“Are you sure?” Ty said. “The dog smells something.”

“I can smell a rat, too,” Mrs. Henley said.

“It wouldn't hurt to look,” Laney urged quietly. “If something did happen, how could you live with yourself?”

Ty leaned closer to the principal. “It could be a Glock or a pair of ripe gym socks in there.” He pulled a piece of worn paper from his wallet and unfolded it carefully. “I copied this from a drawing I found in the school courtyard.” He paused while she examined the drawing. “You still want to bet there's a pair of moldy socks in there?”