Death on a Deadline

followed him out of the room and stood in the hallway, watching his back disappear around the corner. “I’m trying to tell you who the murderer is. Can’t you get that through your head?”
    When I walked out of the station, I looked up at the dark clouds and a drop of rain hit me in the eye. I sprinted for my car, but couldn’t outrun the downpour. Lightning streaked across the sky as I jumped, soaking wet, into the driver’s seat and nodded to my dad. I should have stayed home in my warm, dry pajamas.

Twelve

    After Saturday’s storms, Sunday morning in Lake View dawned bright and sunny. As I drove to church, I couldn’t help but notice how full of promise the day seemed, the trees resplendent in their freshly washed, multicolored ponchos. After Alex’s prediction that Zac might be arrested, I don’t know what I’d expected. Maybe for the world to change overnight to grays and blacks, a dreary winter scene, more fitting to my family’s mood. Instead the changing leaves, Lake View’s claim to fame, were at their most glorious. Unfortunately the town was so abuzz with talk of murder and suspects, nobody noticed.
    I had a couple of questions to ask Marge Templeton after services. Speed was essential if we wanted to save Zac the embarrassment of a false arrest, not to mention the anguish of a false conviction. But the way I looked at it, if we didn’t take time out for the Lord, how could we expect Him to take time out for us?
    Before I walked into the whitewashed building, I sent up a little prayer that He would help me to keep my mind on Him until worship was over. And when Alex squeezed in next to me right before we started, I repeated the silent petition more fervently.
    Before we dismissed, Jack Thompson stood to recap the announcements. I shifted on the padded pew and allowed myself to look at Alex, clean-shaven and sharp in a gray suit. I’d studiously concentrated on forgetting he was there during the worship and had almost succeeded. But technically, announcements weren’t worship.
    Was it by pure accident that Alex had ended up beside me this morning? Or had he sought me out? Maybe with the new threat, since he was Zac’s lawyer, he thought he should sit with the family. But Mama and Daddy were at the other end of the bench and he’d have shown just as much support down there. Not that I was complaining.
    Jack’s last announcement pulled my attention to the front. “Oh, by the way, we’re glad to have Marge Templeton back with us today. She asked me to thank you all for the food and prayers. Your dishes will be on a table in the fellowship hall.”
    I watched heads turn toward an area on the opposite side of the building. I’d have to hurry to get over to Marge before she left.
    After the closing prayer, Alex turned to me, his smile crinkling the corners of his eyes. “Jenna, how’s it going?”
    “Fine.” I watched Marge’s permed curls bounce down the aisle toward the front of the building. She must be getting the dishes from her car to take to the fellowship hall. I looked back at Alex. “How are you?”
    His smile was a shade less bright. “I’m okay. You looking for someone?”
    “Me? No.” Not anymore.
    “I was wondering if you have plans for lunch?”
    “I usually go over to Mama’s on Sundays. Um. . .” Marge had left the building. If I let this chance to talk to her go by, who knew when I’d get another one that didn’t feel forced? I felt a trickle of perspiration at the back of my neck.
    I wanted to go out with Alex, but was I ready to open that Pandora’s box and poke and prod at all the old hurts there? I turned to Carly, who was sitting on the other side of me. Her normally smooth face was drawn with worry. “Carly. Talk to Alex for a minute.” I stepped deftly out into the aisle, leaving them facing each other looking puzzled. “We’ll talk later, okay? I have to see someone. I’ll be back!” I called.
    Had I flipped my lid? Judging by the openmouthed look Alex gave me, he sure thought so. I’d have to worry about that later.
    I speed-walked down the aisle, because one of Mama’s firmest childhood rules had concerned running in the church building. And she might be looking. I reached the fellowship hall as Marge sat the dishes on the table. I glanced at the doorway to the tiny kitchen but saw no one. Perfect. “Marge.”
    She spun around. “Jenna, honey. So good to see you.”
    I hugged her. “You, too.”
    “Did you come to get your bowl?”