Ever Present Danger (24 page)

Ivy’s eyes welled as her mind flashed back to the old cotton-wood tree and the pile of dirt and snow Pete, Reg, and Denny were shoveling into the hole where they had dumped Joe’s body as if it were a sack of potatoes.

“This must be so hard, honey.” Carolyn Griffith squeezed Ivy’s hand. “Especially right after Lu’s death. It’s good Ian’s mother offered to pick up Montana from school. That’ll give you time to let your emotions settle down before you have to go get him.”

The front door opened, and Bill Ziwicki walked in, dressed in tan trousers, a yellow shirt, and a navy sport coat. He smiled at Ivy and walked over to the table. “I thought I saw you folks sitting
there in the window.” He held out his hand to Elam. “Good to see you, Mr. Griffith. Mrs. Griffith.”

“You here for lunch?” Ivy said.

“Yeah, but looks like I should’ve come earlier. This place is bustin’ at the seams.”

“Well, you’re welcome to join us,” Carolyn said. “We haven’t placed our order yet.”

Bill glanced at Elam and then at Carolyn. “Thanks. I appreciate that. Every restaurant in town is packed. Guess a lot of people are here for the memorial service.”

“I assume you’re going,” Elam said.

“Yes, sir. I rearranged my schedule.” Bill picked up the menu and opened it. “Pretty neat they’re includin’ Joe Hadley’s folks.”

Elam nodded. “Yeah, very nice. I was just telling the girls the same thing. I understand you and Ivy are driving down to Durango to see a movie tonight.”

Bill laid the menu on the table and looked over at Ivy. “Yes, I’m lookin’ forward to it.”

“I suppose she told you I don’t want her out of the house by herself till Flint Carter gets whoever did the shooting off the street?”

“Yes, sir. Not to worry. I’ll take good care of her.”

“I know you will. Can’t hurt for the two of you to get out of Dodge and unwind a bit after the past week.”

Ivy bit her lip and wondered if her father was ever going to trust her to do anything for herself.

Flint Carter stood in the doorway to his office, looking over the list of deputies, marshals, and special agents assigned to security detail for the memorial service.

“Suppose the new theatre will hold everybody?” Flint said to Bobby Knolls. “Could be standing room only.”

“Well, the feds insisted on runnin’ the show,” Bobby said. “It’s their problem. KTNR advised people to get there early if they want a seat.”

“I hope we don’t end up having to turn people away.”

“We’ll figure out somethin’. You headin’ over there now?”

Flint nodded. “Yeah, Mrs. Barton asked me to say something. I sure hope it doesn’t end up sounding like a press conference. I mean, what am I supposed to say to the families of four young men who’ve been murdered when I don’t have one solid lead?”

Bobby shrugged. “That you’re real sorry? And you share their pain?”

“Yeah, something like that. Okay, Bobby. See you over there.”

Flint locked the door to his office and walked out of the courthouse and over to his squad car. The afternoon sun hung high in the bluebird sky and seemed to have taken the chill out of the breeze.

Flint climbed in the front seat of the Explorer, then took out his copy of the shooter’s profile and reread it. He put the paper back in his pocket, wondering if the guy would show up at the memorial service to revel in the attention being paid to his dirty deed. He started the car and drove toward the civic theatre, thinking he’d never seen this much traffic in town in the off-season.

He finally pulled onto a side street and took the back way to the civic theatre, then drove around to the side entrance and parked behind Bobby Knolls’s squad car. He spotted Bobby standing next to the building with Special Agent Nick Sanchez and Investigator Buck Lowry.

Flint got out of his car and walked over to them, concerned about the scowl on Bobby’s face. “Fill me in.”

Sanchez nodded. “I was just telling Knolls and Lowry that people need to feel a strong FBI presence here, and I’m positioning my agents in key locations inside the theatre and at the entrance and exits.”

“Which means the rest of us get traffic and parking detail,” Bobby said.

Flint shot Bobby a just-force-yourself-to-be-cooperative look. “Okay, Nick. I’ll make sure my deputies keep things moving outside. From the looks of the traffic, we’re going to have a lot more people than places to sit.”

Nick dropped his cigarette on the cement and stepped on it.
“We’ve worked that out with the families. They want a chance to greet people afterwards, so as soon as the service is over, they’re going to form a receiving line. At that point, all those who couldn’t get in will be allowed to line up and pay their respects.”

Flint nodded. “Sounds like you thought of everything. We’ll make sure the crowd outside is informed and stays orderly. With any luck at all, this thing will go off without a hitch.”

“Just remember the shooter may try to avoid suspicion by coming to pay his respects. So make eye contact with people. Pay attention to details. Make a note of anyone who acts suspicious or whose mood strikes you as out of place for the occasion, especially classmates. And if Unger shows up, nab him first and ask questions later. We’ll meet again when this thing’s over and compare notes.”

“You think Ivy Griffith’s in any danger?”

“I doubt it,” Nick said. “If the shooter wanted to take her out, he could’ve done it before now. I doubt he’s going to do anything in a crowd and risk getting caught.”

Ivy walked away from reporters without answering questions, her hand clinging tightly to Bill Ziwicki’s, and followed her parents up the steps to the glass doors of the civic theatre. She was prepared for the stares she would get from classmates who would be shocked to see Bill and her together, especially at a memorial service for Pete.

They walked into the lobby where men in dark suits stood handing out programs. Ivy took a program, then peeked in the theatre and saw the front half was already filled. She followed her parents up the stairs to the balcony and down the center aisle to the front row, where she nestled in the crushed velvet seat between Bill and her mother. The unmistakable new-building smells permeated the facility.

She looked down on the stage, which was lavished with flower arrangements, wreaths, and plants. “I wonder where they’re going to put the caskets,” she whispered to her mother.

“I don’t think they’re planning to have them brought here for the memorial service.”

Ivy turned her gaze to the seats below and the somber attendees dressed in varying shades of black. In the stillness, the truth pressed so heavily on her that she could hardly breathe. If only she hadn’t gotten high that January afternoon ten years ago, maybe these four young men would still be alive. Unexpected tears clouded her eyes and trickled down her cheeks. She opened her purse and fumbled to find a tissue.

Bill handed her a handkerchief, then leaned over and put his lips to her ear. “It’s gonna be okay. We just need to get through this part.”

We
. Ivy clung to the word as if it were intended to be some sort of vow. She glanced at her watch and saw that it was 1:47. She tried not to think about why she was there, and was only vaguely aware of a piano playing until a door opened to the right of the stage and brought her back to the moment. People started filing out of a room and toward the empty seats in front of the stage.

She focused on the faces and was able to pick out Pete’s mom and the other three sets of parents before her eyes homed in on a young pregnant woman, clutching tightly to the arm of another woman, both about Ivy’s age.

Reg and Denny’s widows
.

She closed her eyes when Father McGregor opened in prayer and let her thoughts wander back to when she was a kid and the worst thing she’d been guilty of was sassing her mother.

She remembered Rusty and herself galloping across Phantom Hollow on their horses, the wind tickling their faces and the sense that at any moment they might sprout wings and take flight. She remembered warm summer afternoons running through the lawn sprinkler, Zeke yelping playfully and Rusty pelting her with water balloons. She saw herself clomping on the wood floor in her mother’s high heels and dressing her cat in doll clothes.

She recalled the day she and Rusty took off riding their bikes on old Tanner Highway and went all the way to Mt. Bryon and back, and then rewarded themselves by cutting up Toll House cookie dough and putting it in vanilla ice cream.

Happy memories came one after another, her mind racing with snippets of her life, and then all of a sudden she was fourteen again, sitting at her vanity table, dressed for her first dance…

Ivy had just finished putting on her makeup when she saw her father’s reflection in the mirror.

“Okay if I come in?” Elam said from the doorway.

“Sure.” Ivy spun around on the stool, then stood and turned three hundred and sixty degrees and stopped, her hands on her hips. “Well, what do you think, Daddy?”

Elam smiled, his eyes glistening, his nose red. “I think you’re going to be the prettiest belle at the ball.”

“So you like my dress?”

“It’s perfect. I love you in blue with that pretty blond hair of yours. So what time are your date and his parents picking you up?”

“Seven.”

“Ah, then we still have time.” Elam walked over and stood in front of her and took a bow. “May I have the first dance, mademoiselle?”

Ivy giggled. “Oui, monsieur.”

He held out his hands. “After tonight, I may be chopped liver. But for the next twenty minutes, you’re still my little princess, and I’m your daddy.” Elam started humming some famous waltz Ivy recognized but couldn’t name.

She put one hand on his shoulder and the other hand in his and followed his lead around the room, smiling and giggling all the while, and wondering why he thought things between them would ever change…

The sound of someone sneezing jolted Ivy back to the moment. She glanced over at her father, flooded with an incredible longing to feel like his little girl again, yet knowing the things she’d done made it impossible for him to see her that way now.

She looked at her watch, shocked that almost an hour had passed. She looked at the podium and realized Pastor Myers was giving the benediction!

“And, Father, how grateful we are for the positive comments shared by family and friends in honor of these young men who
have impacted each of us in different ways. We ask that happy memories fill the void left behind by their absence—and that You fill us with the peace that passes understanding.

“Almighty God, we thank You that in all things, even the tragedies that confound us, You are working for the good of those who love You and have been called according to Your purpose. We pray that our momentary troubles will not overwhelm us, but will cause us to look to Your Son Jesus Christ, who alone is our hope of everlasting life. For it is in His holy name we pray. Amen.”

Pastor Myers kept his head bowed for several more seconds, and then looked up and said, “Thank you for coming. The families will be forming a single reception line right here below the stage in just a few minutes. They will stay until every person who would like to speak to them has had that chance. God bless you all.”

“That wasn’t so bad,” Bill said.

Only because I missed the whole thing
.

“We probably should say something to the parents, don’t you think?” Bill said.

Ivy nodded, and then turned to her mom and dad. “Are you going through the receiving line?”

“I’d like to.” Carolyn looked questioningly at Elam.

“Okay,” Elam said. “Let’s go get in line so we don’t wind up at the end of it.”

Ivy sidestepped out of the front row of the balcony, linked arms with Bill, and walked up the steps and out the exit. What could she possibly say to her friends’ widows or their parents that wouldn’t sound like platitudes? Ivy decided it would be better to just say whatever was on her heart than to rehearse something that might sound rote—and that she would pay special attention to how Mr. Hadley reacted to her.

Ivy moved forward another foot or so. She and Bill had been in the receiving line twenty minutes, but it didn’t look as though it would be much longer before they were next up. She noticed
Brandon and Kelsey Jones had gone through the line and were circling around to exit.

“Hi, guys,” Ivy said.

Kelsey came over and gave her a hug. “Wasn’t that an incredible service?”

“Yes, it was lovely.”
Or so I hear
. Ivy turned to Bill and Brandon, who were already talking. “I see you guys introduced yourselves.”

“Oh, we know each other,” Bill said. “We’ve talked a few times at the camp when I was cleanin’ the offices.”

Ivy listened and nodded politely as Brandon and Kelsey discussed what they considered highlights of the service. She could hardly believe that she had spaced out the entire thing.

“Come on, honey,” Brandon said to Kelsey. “We need to let them go or they’re going to hold up the line.”

Kelsey kept talking as she walked away. “I’m serious about wanting to get together with you for cake and coffee.”

“Me, too,” Ivy said, aware of Bill gently prodding her forward.

“You go first,” he said. “Just be calm.”

Ivy walked up to Pete’s mother and started to cry before she ever got a word out of her mouth. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Barton…”

“It’s okay, honey,” Evelyn Barton said. “It’s been an emotional time for both of us. Thanks for coming. I know this was hard.”

Ivy moved to Denny’s parents and shook their hands. “You may not remember me. I’m Ivy Griffith.”

“Oh, Ivy. Of course we remember you,” Mrs. Richards said.

“I can’t tell you how sorry I am about Denny.”

Mr. Richards nodded. “Thank you. We’re so sorry you and your friend had to see him like that…” the man’s voice broke. He put his hand on Ivy’s shoulder and squeezed. “Hope you can put that out of your mind and remember Denny the way he was before.”