Page 8 of More Than a Hero
One of the deputies approached, holding up a clear evidence bag. Inside was a scorched, rusted canister. “Found this near the back. Could be an old anhydrous tank.”
Jeremy took a step back. “Shit. That means they were pulling ammonia from fertilizer. We need to see if any local farms had thefts.”
Pete turned to Elizabeth. “See if you can cross-check recent reports. Anhydrous ammonia is too dangerous for some backwoods cook to be hauling in bulk. If someone stole it, it’s gotta be on record.”
Elizabeth nodded, already pulling out her phone.
Having gathered all they could at the site, Pete and Jeremy returned to the station. Even with Elizabeth and John taking charge, Pete and Jeremy would stay active in the case, especially if it seemed as though the meth cookers had just moved to a new location.
4
Angie sighed as she glanced at the clock on the wall, the steady ticking a reminder of how endless this day felt. The morning had been swallowed by a mountain of paperwork, including budget reports, funding allocations, and discussions, that left her with a throbbing headache. As the director of the Eastern Shore Area Agency on Aging, she knew these meetings were necessary, but that didn’t make them any less draining.
She leaned forward at the conference table, smoothing her hands over a stack of documents. “I want to get something in the local newspaper that clearly outlines what we do," she said, her voice firm despite the exhaustion creeping in. "Public awareness is key to ensuring we have enough volunteers and community assistance.”
“I can handle that,” Shelby, one of their newest hires, chimed in. “I’ll draft a list of our services and include ways the public can get involved.”
Charlotte, a seasoned director with silver-streaked hair and a sharp mind, nodded in approval. “Excellent idea. We used to do this annually, but considering the current financial climate, we might need to do it twice a year.”
“I agree,” Angie said, flipping open the annual report she had been compiling. “When you see it all on paper, it's astounding what we accomplish. These figures will go to the County Board of Supervisors and then to the State Board. Take a look at some of these numbers.”
She passed the reports around, and a low whistle came from Sam, another executive member. “Meals on Wheels—almost twenty-seven thousand meals served last year. Nearly a thousand vouchers for seniors to use at the farmers’ market.”
Diane, one of the nurses leading their personal care program, tapped a finger on the report. “And our seven CNAs provided nearly seven thousand hours of in-home care.”
The discussion continued, but Angie’s mind drifted momentarily. She was proud of their work and proud of her team, but there was always more to do. When the meeting finally wrapped up, she felt a flicker of relief.
Shelby walked with her toward their offices. “I'm heading to the Careway Assisted Living home to check on two clients.”
“Tell Belle Simmons I said hello, and remind her she still owes me lunch,” Angie joked. “Or maybe I owe her lunch… I can’t remember!”
Shelby laughed before they parted ways. “I’ll also check on your grandmother while I’m there.”
Angie smiled her thanks. In her office, she packed up quickly, tucking her laptop into her satchel before heading down the hall to the equipment storage room. She checked out a wheelchair, rolling it smoothly toward her car. The next stop was Joe’s Diner, where Josephine greeted her at the door with a warm smile and three bags of prepared meals.
“Oh, thank you!” Angie gushed, taking the bags from her.
Josephine waved her off. “No thanks necessary. It’s the least we can do.”
Her next delivery took her to a quiet trailer park where the late afternoon sun cast a light over a freshly built wheelchair ramp. The American Legion volunteers donated the supplies and worked tirelessly to ensure the ramp blended seamlessly with the home. They even planted flowers along the edge. She knocked on the door, and a round-faced woman quickly opened it with a welcoming smile.
“Come in! Dad's been waiting on you.”
Angie stepped inside, the scent of fresh-brewed coffee filling the cozy space. The older man in the recliner looked up, his eyes lighting up as they fell on the wheelchair she brought.
“Oh, what have you brought me, Ms. Angie?” he asked, grinning wide.
“It’s not brand new, but it’ll make life easier for you and your daughter,” she said warmly. “Trips to the doctor, strolls through the neighborhood—you name it.”
“And what’s in those bags?” he asked, grinning.
“I stopped at Joe’s Diner for lunch and thought I'd bring some for you two as well.”
“Oh my word,” his daughter exclaimed. “I was just fixin’ to make dad a sandwich.”
The three sat at his table and enjoyed their BLT sandwiches, piled high with bacon and no skimping on the tomatoes. As they finished, his daughter patted his shoulder. “I promised him that if he got a wheelchair, I’d take him across the bridge to a shopping center in Virginia Beach.”
Angie laughed, charmed by the twinkle in his eyes. “Be sure to send me a picture when you do.”
