A Bridge Unbroken (A Miller's Creek Novel) (28 page)

This ought to be good. "Do tell."

His best friend chomped down on one of the cookies and spoke with a garbled mouthful, typical Matt-style. "You're in love, man."

A piece of the cookie he'd been chewing lodged in Chance's throat, and he coughed.

"You okay?" Matt pounded on his back.

Chance reached for his water bottle in the cup holder, took a swig, and twisted the cap back on. Matt's words were true, and he'd known it for a while now. He just hadn't expected anyone else to notice. "So you think I'm in love?"

Through another mouthful of cookie, Matt exclaimed, "Oh, man, you have it bad. Cupid hit you with at least four or five of those poisoned arrows."

Chance couldn't help but chuckle. "I'm sure your wife would love to hear the use of your word 'poison' when describing love."

"Hey, don't break bro-rule number one."

"Yeah, what's that?"

"What's said in the pickup stays in the pickup." Matt laughed and placed the last few cookie crumbs in his mouth. "So you're staying here all night, aren't you?"

"Yep."

"Even though you lied and told my wife you might go home later."

"Yep." Chance glanced across the street. Still no unusual activity.

"You are aware that Miller's Creek gets pretty dead by eleven o'clock on a Friday night? You won't miss much excitement by heading on home." Across the seat, Matt chuckled. "Just wasting my breath, huh?"

"Yep."

His best friend punched him on the arm, then opened the passenger-side door. "Okay. Well, try to stay warm, bud. I'll call you some time tomorrow to see if you enjoyed your little camping trip."

"Tell Gracie thanks for the cookies and blanket."

"Will do."

"And thanks for coming to check on me. And for understanding." What would he do without Matt?

"Yeah, well, I've been where you are. Crazy out of my mind with worry one minute, filled with fear that she'd never want me the next."

Yeah, that pretty well described his emotional state at the moment.

"Good night." Matt slammed the pickup door, and a few seconds later, drove off into the dark night.

Okay, enough visitors for the night. At some point Carter would come to relieve Ernie. Chance looked around for a good location--one that would allow him to see without being seen. His gaze landed on the Ford dealership up the street. Perfect. He cranked the engine. Within a minute, he was parked next to other Ford trucks on the lot with a clear view of the front door of the police station.

The night wore on. Chance passed the time by playing Sudoku on his cell phone, raising his head every few minutes to make sure everything looked all right. A few minutes before midnight, just as he'd predicted, Carter pulled into the police department parking area, his tall frame impossible to miss. Shortly afterward, Ernie exited the building and drove away.

One o'clock came and went. At almost two a.m. on the dot, another pickup, dark-colored, pulled into the lot and parked just a few spaces down from him.

His forehead tightened. Obviously, whoever sat in the dark pickup had something similar in mind. Should he go see who it was and what they were up to? He gave his head a slight shake. Not a wise move. First, it would give away his location. Secondly, he had nothing to defend himself with should he need it. Best to just stay put and see what happened.

The time approached three in the morning. Chance leaned his head back and stared at the ceiling of the cab, trying to untangle the knots that had built in his shoulder muscles. As he leaned his neck to one side and then the other, movement caught his eye. Down the street sauntered a lone figure. Definitely a man, based on his size and the way he moved, but beyond that Chance couldn't make out any details, due to the dark street and the man's black hooded sweatshirt.

The guy stopped outside of the police department, mostly hidden from view by shadow of a nearby tree. He faced the station as though studying the possibilities. Then he continued his walk, white puffs of steam drifting from his mouth in the cool night air.

Chance slouched down in the seat to avoid being seen, but peered over the dashboard as the man ambled past and disappeared from view.

Once more, Chance considered leaving his post, but in the end opted to stay and keep watch over the building where Dakota slept in a lonely, small, and confining jail cell, all because of him.

The next thing Chance knew, sun streamed in the side window and struck his face. He groaned and reached for a pillow that wasn't there. His eyes cracked open and his surroundings came into focus. Dakota. Was she okay?

He sprang to a sitting and checked his watch. Already after 9 a.m. Carter's car was gone, and Ernie's car had returned.  Chance scratched the itchy stubble on his chin. He wanted to see Dakota as soon as possible to assure himself that she was okay, but it wouldn't hurt to take a peace offering.

He started the truck and sped down the highway to the donut shop to get the chocolate cake donuts Dakota loved more than Daisy loved dog biscuits.

Ernie grinned expectantly when Chance walked in the door five minutes later. He eyed the donut bag. "You don't eat donuts. So I'm assuming those are for me?"

"You can have one." Chance held out the bag.

Ernie fished out a donut. "Thanks."

"Dakota awake?"

"Yeah, you wanna see her?"

"Please."

As they walked to the rear of the building, Ernie turned his head and called back over his shoulder, "So how was it?"

"How was what?"

"Camping out in your truck all night." The police chief grinned and knocked on the door.

Matt and his big mouth. He'd pay for this. "Ha ha. Guess I've been the butt of a few jokes between you and Carter?"

"Just a few." Ernie winked and pushed open the door.

Dakota sat on her bed, reading her Bible. She glanced up as they entered, the dark circles beneath her eyes testifying to her own lack of sleep. A tiny smile turned up the corners of her lips.

Chance held up the bag of donuts. "Hungry?"

Her smile widened. "Chocolate cake?"

"Your favorite."

She climbed from the bed and nabbed a donut from the bag, then glanced up at him. "You look awful."

"Gee, thanks."

"No, I mean, did you sleep okay?"

Better that she not know the depth of his concern. He shrugged. "Just okay. What about you?"

She returned to the bed, the donut half gone already, and plopped down. "Very little, but I did get a lot of writing done for the first time in forever. Nothing like personal angst to bring out the writer's muse."

He laughed, not only at her words, but her sardonic tone. Then he sobered. This whole experience must be hard. Harder than she was letting on. "You okay?"

"I guess so. Staying awake most of the night gave me a lot of time to think, you know? I can't undo what's already been done. While I wish I could go back and do things differently, I can't. No sense wasting time worrying about it. I've prayed through it and given it over to God. It's in His more-than-capable hands. Whatever happens, it's all under His control and timing and to suit His purposes."

"Even if you end up having to confront Kane?"

A determined tilt raised her small chin, but fear still clouded her eyes. "Even then."

Ernie, who'd stood right outside the door to give them privacy, knocked again. "Dakota, you ready to head to the bond hearing?"

"As ready as I'll ever be."

"Mind if I tag along?"

Ernie's lips sagged at the corners, like a bull-dog. "Okay with me if it's okay with Dakota."

She nodded with a shrug. "The more the merrier. Right?"

Chapter Twenty-Six

M
ore calmly than she'd ever thought possible, Dakota entered the magistrate's office. The only possible explanation was hours of prayer--not only her own, but her friends' as well. Now if she could just get through this and enjoy the rest of her day. In the very sterile and unassuming room, unbefitting the term magistrate, a man sat behind a desk dressed in camouflage clothing, his reading glasses perched at the end of his short, plump nose as he thumbed through a stack of papers.

He glanced up as they approached. "Hey, Ernie. Is this young lady the accused?"

"Yes sir. You look ready for a hunting trip."

"Just got back actually. Didn't see a thing. And who are you?" His gruff voice resounded in the large empty room as he addressed Chance.

"Chance Johnson."

"Aren't you J.C.'s grandson?"

"Yes sir."

"Mighty fine man. Sorry for your loss." Now his eagle eyes honed in on Dakota. "You, young lady, are in serious trouble." He cranked the volume of his words, accenting each one.

Her neck and shoulder muscles tensed. "Yes sir."

"Have you been informed of your rights?"

"Yes."

"Have an attorney?"

"Two, actually. Andy and Grace Tyler."

The man's eyebrows arched. "You're fortunate to have such good friends. They're two of the best in the state." His gaze moved briefly to Chance then back to her. "Your bail's been set at five thousand dollars."

An uncontrollable gasp fell from her lips.

"I know that's high, but you have a history of running. It's my job to see that you don't."

She swallowed hard, unsure of the proper protocol in this situation. "I don't have five thousand dollars."

Chance stepped forward and pulled his checkbook from the back pocket of his jeans. "I'd like to pay her bail, if that's okay."

The magistrate nodded. "Okay by me, but are you sure?  You might not ever see that money again."

Chance sent Dakota a reassuring smile. "I'm sure."

A few minutes later, the details from the bond hearing behind them, they escaped into the bright sunlight of a beautiful fall day. Dakota's spirit soared in spite of her fatigue. Time to rest and relax and take her mind off her worries by working on the house.

Ernie stopped to shake both their hands before heading to the police car.

As he drove away, Dakota turned to Chance. "Thanks, Chance. I'll pay back every cent. I promise."

He nodded. "Right now let's just enjoy this beautiful day."

"My sentiments exactly."

After they stopped by the hardware store for supplies, the Pig Pit for barbecue, and Chance's house to pick up Daisy, the two headed out to the farm, both windows down, country music streaming from the radio.

Dakota leaned her head back against the seat and closed her eyes. Yes. This was just what she needed. The warmth of the sun on her right shoulder spread across her back and chest, melting her tense muscles into soft wax.

"Tired?" Chance's voice interrupted the golden silence.

She didn't open her eyes. "Beyond description. But also relieved."

"I want this to be a good day for you. You deserve it."

His thoughtful words seeped into her soul. Deserve it? Not a chance. But she'd take it nonetheless.

A few minutes later they passed the farmhouse and drove straight to the creek and dilapidated bridge. The warmer-than-normal temps and southern breezes had dried out the fields so there was no chance of getting the truck stuck. After they unloaded the lumber and gathered necessary tools, they set to work repairing the bridge. First they worked on the structure and used braces to shore up the bridge. Broken and rotten planks which spanned the bridge were then yanked from their place and replaced with new boards. Rusty nails, heads popped up from the dry boards, were pounded back down.

They worked through the morning and past noon, the sun climbing high in the sky.

Chance rubbed the sweat from his forehead with his forearm and turned his attention to her. "Ready to break for some barbecue?"

"Yeah." Dakota licked her dry lips. "But let's go to the house to eat. I need some sweet tea."

"Now you're speaking my language."

Once at the house, Dakota made the tea and carried two full mason jars to the front porch, the ice clinking against the sides. Chance reclined his head and back against the house, the bucket of ribs and a roll of paper towels at his side. He reached for the glass the minute she stepped outside and quickly guzzled it down.

She laughed. "Guess I should've brought the whole jar. Be back in a sec." Once back outside, she and Chance enjoyed the tasty barbecue spare ribs and the ice-cold sweet tea without conversation. Dakota's thoughts returned to the 'what if's' that lay ahead of her like a long dark tunnel with no end in sight. And when she did catch what might be the end, it involved Kane, and the end of her. A sigh escaped.

"Stop it." Chance's gruff words were softened by the tender expression in his eyes, a look that reminded her so much of J.C. "Don't let yourself dwell on what might happen. God's got it under control."

"Okay how do you do that?"

"Do what?'