Page 88 of Forgotten Path
“I’ll be fine.”
“You don’t have a weapon or anything. Fred’s armed,” Craig’s voice broke in alarm.
“And we called Lucinda and let her know,” Bodhi reminded him. “She put out a BOLO. He shouldn’t be hard to find. How many school bus yellow Mustangs can there be in this town?”
“Yeah, but …”
“Go on. For all we know, somebody already found him and brought him in.”
Craig gave him a doubtful look as he got out of the car. Then he ran down the hill toward Brianna. Bodhi called Felicia, who answered immediately.
“Can’t talk right now, Bodhi. I’ve got my hands full. Are you at the church?”
“Uh. No. Is Brianna okay? We just saw her running through the lot behind the mill. I sent Craig down to check on her.”
“Brianna’s fine. What are you doing here? I told you to go to the church.”
“Like you said, you’re busy. Talk to you later.” He ended the call before she could scold him further and trained his eyes on the commercial parking lot from which Fred would have to approach if he was headed this way.
But instead of an obnoxiously bright sports car, a small parade was making its way toward him. He rubbed his eyes, but the scene remained unchanged. At the front of the group of people, he spotted Judith, Clara, Louisa, Lucinda, and Mrs. Wolfe. Behind them came Marnie, Patty the 911 operator, Mirabelle, Steffi, and—unless his eyes deceived him—Ralph the security guard.
He exited the car and circled around to lean against it.
“Out for a walk?” he asked as they approached.
“Think of it as a neighborhood watch committee,” Judy cracked.
He smiled but glanced over her head at Mirabelle. “Are you sure she should be out here?”
“She wasn’t going to let us come without her,” the medical examiner said, fishing a stethoscope from her coat pocket. “Her heartbeat seems stronger.”
“What is this?”
Mrs. Wolfe stepped forward. “I told you last night that to survive in Oyster Point, we had to learn to take care of ourselves, didn’t I?”
“You did.”
“We also take care of each other,” Judy told him. “And we’re not about to let Fred Glazier kill Chad.”
“Chad killed Doc,” Brianna announced breathlessly as she and Craig reached the crest of the hill behind Bodhi. “He admitted it. Detective Williams is taking him into custody right now.”
A murmur ran through the assembled townspeople, and then Steffi spoke up. “Then Chad needs to be tried in court for what he did. We still can’t let Fred hurt him. That’s not how it works, at least not here.”
Craig hurried past Bodhi to stand next to his grandmother. Brianna joined Steffi in the second line. After a beat, Bodhi pushed off the car and fell into line beside Mirabelle. They were standing in two lines—a ragtag bakers’ dozen with their arms interlocked at the elbows—when the Mustang careened through the lot.
Fred maintained his speed and laid on the horn.
Nobody flinched; nobody moved aside.
He slammed on the brakes, and the muscle car shrieked as it lurched to a stop inches from the cadre of people in its path. Fred jumped out of the car and slammed the door shut, red-faced and shouting for them to get out of his way.
They looked back at him impassively.
Bodhi didn’t know how long the standoff lasted. In the moment, time seemed to slow down.Tachypsychia, he thought automatically,the distorted perception of the passage of time that sometimes accompanies stressful situations.
He’d no sooner formed the thought when time sped up.
Felicia’s rental car blasted up the hill from the mill and squealed to a stop. She raced from the car, her weapon drawn, and ordered Fred to his knees. Bodhi risked a backward glimpse to see a man who could only be Chad Hornbill, handcuffed and glaring from the back seat. When he turned back to the scene in front of him. Ralph had stepped up beside Felicia, gripping his baton.
