The Sinners' Garden Page 33

  Kevin Hart was dead.

  She’d just noticed the orange pistol grip of the gun next to him when she heard a sound. She aimed her gun back down the hallway.

  “Police!” she yelled. “Who’s there? Show yourself!”

  She heard what she thought might be somebody moving in a bedroom at the end of the hall.

  “Teddy?” she yelled. “Cierra?”

  He’s at the fund-raiser and she’s at the hospital. Her heart pounded. The floor squeaked, followed by the faint sound of something being dragged. Then she heard nothing.

  Heather walked slowly to the edge of the bedroom doorway, stopped, and kneeled down. She waited and listened again.

  Nothing.

  She moved her head closer to the open door. She could hear someone breathing.

  Heather stood and faced the wall, gathering her nerves. Then she raised the gun above her head and quickly leaned to her right, peeking around the corner of the doorway, dropping her arm and pointing the gun into the room.

  She couldn’t believe her eyes.

  Another man. Black shirt . . . black pants . . . black gloves . . . black mask . . . and unarmed, just sitting on the floor, leaning back against what looked like a hospital bed. He was wheezing and cradling a duffel bag over his chest.

  Or is it her chest?

  “Freeze, Brianna!” Heather yelled, aiming right at her. “I knew you were in on it with Kevin!”

  Brianna didn’t move. She just held the duffel bag tightly and her head appeared to be teetering ever so slightly. Then Brianna’s gloved hand came off the bag and dropped heavily to the wooden floor.

  “I’m not kidding!” Heather yelled, extending her arm straighter. “Move another inch and I’ll take you out, just like Kevin!”

  Brianna’s head shifted against the metal railing of the hospital bed and then she slowly raised her hand off the floor, as if intending to give herself up. But she was clearly hurt. Had Kevin shot her?

  Heather cocked back the hammer on her pistol, hoping Brianna would stop moving.

  She didn’t. Brianna managed to extend her right arm toward Heather.

  “Last chance,” Heather said. “There won’t be another—” She waited and watched as Brianna slowly made the sign of the cross in the air between them.

  Heather paused. “It was you that night?”

  Brianna didn’t say anything.

  “Take your mask off,” Heather said. “Do it slowly.”

  Brianna’s shoulder seemed to flinch and her hand dropped to the floor again with a dull thud.

  Heather took a step forward and Brianna stayed still.

  She took another step. And then another, right through a thin strip of moonlight that ran from the window and across the bedroom floor. She was now close enough to see eyes behind the dark mask. Brianna was staring right at her, blinking slowly.

  She kept her gun aimed at Brianna’s chest, placed her left hand on top of the mask, and slowly peeled it away. The first thing she noticed was the sweaty and thinning blond hair. Her heart felt like it leaped out of her chest. Her mouth gaped open.

  It was Rip.

  “R-Rip? What are you doing here?” Heather asked, still pointing her gun at him.

  “I told you you’d be able to shoot if you had to,” Rip whispered.

  “I need to know what you are doing here, Rip,” she said, lowering the gun.

  “I need you to make sure the Cochrans get this for Marjo,” he said, patting his hand on the side of the duffel bag.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “It’s the rest of my pot-selling proceeds,” Rip said. “It’s a little over two hundred grand. That’ll pay for her surgery and give the Cochrans a little bit of breathing room.”

  Heather just stared at him. “What pot-selling proceeds?”

  “I told you that your boys missed a spot in the raid when I got busted,” he said. “I wasn’t kidding.”

  “You could have gotten in more trouble. You should have turned that money in.” Her eyes narrowed and she kneeled beside him. “Are you hurt?”

  He ignored her question. “They’d have kept the money for themselves. You know that six hundred thousand the newspaper said the authorities seized? They really took over a million from me. It’s behind us now, but Chief Reynolds and a few of those other boys had themselves a half-million-dollar payday.”

  “What?” she said. “Are you serious?”

  “Yeah,” Rip said, and coughed. “I still had a little over three hundred thousand left that they missed . . . so I figured . . . when I got out of prison, I’d run around in the night, making the sign of the cross . . . and see if I could give the money away and do some good with it. Sort of help God answer some prayers.”

  “You are the Summer Santa?”

  “Very good, Officer Gerisch,” Rip said with a tired smile. “You should be a detective.”

  “How did you know what people needed?”

  “Prayer request cards,” Rip whispered. It sounded like it hurt him to talk. “Whenever I helped Kevin collect them, I’d pocket a few after service and take them home with me.”

  “Chief Reynolds skimmed money?” She still couldn’t believe it.

  “Don’t rat him out,” Rip said, coughing again. “Because you have some of the Summer Santa’s money too, and I want you to keep it. Go back to school, Heather.”

  “He knew you were the Summer Santa, didn’t he? How’d he know?”

  Rip shrugged and he buckled a bit. “We had a little chat one night.”

  Heather’s head was spinning. She pointed at the hallway. “What was Kevin doing here, then?”

  “Not sure you’re gonna like my answer to that,” Rip said haltingly. “But that gun he was holding sure looked familiar. And he was already in here . . . when I came in the bedroom. It was like he was waiting for me . . . waiting for you . . . because he said your name before he shot.”

  “Rip, you need to get out of here. I have to call this in.”

  “I don’t feel too good,” Rip mumbled.

  He tried to pull the duffel bag off his lap and failed. Heather helped him and when she pulled it away, she could see the wet stain against his black shirt.

  “Rip?” Heather cried. She tried to grab her radio off her hip to call for an ambulance and then Rip reached over and squeezed her wrist until she let go of it. “What are you doing? You’re shot. You’re bleeding really bad. What am I supposed to do?”

  “Tell Andy that his prayer was answered. He didn’t want me to suffer. And then just tell the truth about what happened here tonight and you’ll be fine. Reynolds knows where that money came from. He told me to hurry up and—and get it over with. He said he’d let me slide, and crazy as it seems, I believe him. Besides, I’m not heading to jail again. Not tonight.”

  “I want to call an ambulance,” Heather cried. “Please let me.”

  “No,” Rip said, leaning into her. “And promise me that you’ll go back to school and be a teacher.”

  “Rip—”

  “Promise me!”

  “I promise.” She was weeping now, tears running down her face.

  Rip leaned his head against her and looked up at her. He was sweating worse and blood appeared at the corner of his mouth.

  “Why did you do it this way, Rip?” she asked. “Why didn’t you just give these gifts to these people?”

  “A broke ex-con can’t give away that kind of money.” He forced a smile and a tear rolled out the corner of his left eye. He took a ragged, wet breath. “I wanted you to catch me, Heather. You sort of already did once, but I was just getting started. But I wanted you to finally see me do something good.”

  “You are good,” she said, grabbing the radio again as her weeping turned to sobs.

  Rip’s hand was shaking when he wrapped his fingers around the bottom of the radio, pulling it away.

  “I wanna tell you somethin’ else,” Rip said, his voice barely audible. “And don’t you forget it.”

&nb
sp; “Okay,” she said, trying to wrestle the radio from his grip. “Please just hang on, Rip. Please.”

  Rip clicked the power switch off the radio and Heather knew then that she wouldn’t make the call until it was far too late.

  Their eyes met.

  “I love you, Heather Gerisch,” Rip whispered. “I always have. I always will. I’m sorry . . . I couldn’t . . .”

  She ran her hand across the side of his face, then clutched at his far shoulder and pulled him closer to her, feeling a pain so deep it left no sound, just a gaping, hollow chasm in her heart.

  “I love you,” she said, when she could at last take a breath. “I love you!” she screamed, her pain gaining sound, her keening cry filling the house.

  But it was all too late.

  Rip was gone.

  FORTY-SIX

  I was going to be leaving the department soon anyway,” Heather said as she and Judi sat on the picnic table three days later, looking out at Lake Erie. “Besides, I really don’t want to be involved in the investigation. It’s pretty safe to assume that Kevin was planning to shoot me with the same gun he killed our fathers with. But instead he killed Rip.”

  “You know what’s really weird, if you think about it?” Judi said distantly.

  “You mean other than Rip making his final gift at the same time Kevin wanted to kill me?”

  “Kevin actually ended up doing Rip a favor.”

  “I know,” Heather said. “But I still can’t believe he’s gone.”

  Heather knew Rip’s death hadn’t hit home yet with Judi either, but it certainly had with Andy.

  “Andy still out near The Frank and Poet?” Heather asked.

  Judi nodded. “I think he’s cried himself out. He’s been out there almost all day. In fact, we should probably go check on him.”

  “That last section of flowers still out there?” Heather asked.

  “Yeah,” Judi answered. “Andy seems to think it will always be there.”

  “Why is that?” Heather asked.

  “Because he believes that part of the garden was for Rip, and it was never used for what it was meant for.”

  “And he’s sure the last part that disappeared was Kevin’s?” Heather asked. “Why?”

  “I’m guessing because you, Kevin, Rip, and me are the only people Andy relayed messages to from God. We’ll never know what Kevin had to accept, but apparently he did. The jerk.”

  They shared a long smile. “God via the iPod,” Heather said and shook her head matter-of-factly. “It was really Him, wasn’t it?”

  “It was also Him who Andy dreamed about,” Judi said. “And He’s also what you and I felt . . . what we saw when we looked in the garden.”

  “What do you think the garden is, Judi?”

  “I think Rip was right. I think it was like God had dropped a gift basket over there for the four of us. The first section was for me. The second for you. The third for Kevin. And the last one was meant for Rip to be healed.”

  “I think the garden is more than a gift basket,” Heather said. “I saw my father over there. And God,” she added in a reverent whisper. “And the more I think about it, I’m not even sure that He was standing behind my dad, it was more like He surrounded him.”

  “I wonder what would have happened if Rip went over there before he got shot,” Judi said.

  “I don’t know. I wish we could still find out,” Heather said. The two women shared a thoughtful, knowing look of shared pain.

  Judi shook her head. “I was right there with Andy in thinking Rip would have gotten better had he entered the garden. But now we’ll never know.”

  Judi was right. They never would know and it was the coulda-shoulda-woulda that saddened her even more.

  They both stared into the distance, thinking for a while.

  “You’re gonna bury him right next to your parents?”

  “Yeah,” Judi said.

  “I like your idea for the headstone,” Heather said. “RIP without the periods in between the letters.”

  “Won’t be done in time for the funeral, but I think Rip would have liked it.”

  “We could have always put ‘The Summer Santa’ on there.”

  “I still can’t believe it was him,” Judi said with a sad little laugh. “So you originally thought that Brianna was partnering up with Kevin?”

  “They were,” Heather said. “But, uh, not on the Summer Santa thing.”

  Judi lifted her brows and leaned forward, plopping her elbows on her knees. “Just wait until the town gets ahold of that story.”

  “Rumors are already flying,” Heather said. “And Brianna didn’t waste any time getting on it. But lucky for me, Chief Reynolds insisted on handling this one. He didn’t want the article coming out right away, but when it does, I’m pretty sure Rip’s gonna end up looking like a saint.”

  FORTY-SEVEN

  You okay?” Judi whispered.

  Andy didn’t say anything back to her. He just continued to stare down into the grave as Pastor Welsh spoke.

  He had taken the news of Rip’s death worse than any of them. The fact that Rip was already sick and facing death hadn’t seemed to soften any of the blow for Andy.

  Reverend Welsh finished his prayer and many of the fifty or so who were there shared hugs and took turns throwing small handfuls of dirt onto Rip’s casket before leaving.

  Heather had been kneeling at the very foot of the grave with her head down, and Judi watched as Andy went up beside her and placed something on the grass in front of her. Heather picked it up and then Andy dropped to his knees as well.

  “Is he all right?” Chelsea asked as she and Judi stepped away from the grave.

  “No, but I think he will be,” Judi said, watching Pastor Welsh walk toward them.

  “I enjoyed listening to you,” Chelsea said.

  “Thank you, sweetie,” Welsh replied, pointing over at Andy and Heather. “Let’s go visit with those two, shall we?”

  When they approached the grave, Judi walked up behind Andy and put her hands on his shoulders. Andy opened his eyes and then stood and put his arm around her. Judi gave him a motherly smile and leaned into him.

  Heather raised her arm and Judi immediately saw one of the earbuds dangling from her hand.

  “Doesn’t work for you anymore either?” Andy asked, taking the iPod from her.

  “Thank you for giving it to me,” Heather said. “But I don’t need it. Neither of us do.”

  Andy bit his lip lightly and then took his arm out from around Judi. He started to say something, stopped, then held his hands up and let them drop to his sides in disappointment. “I was kind of hoping you’d hear or see something. Kind of like how you did with your dad.”

  “I already know your Uncle Rip is with God. But I want you to know that as well, and I want you to smile that best smile your uncle and I talked about, knowing someone you love is with God.”

  “I don’t want to smile right now,” Andy whispered. “I just want a sign. Something. Anything. I need to know that Uncle Rip’s okay.”

  “I assure you that he is more than okay,” Pastor Welsh said. “He is better than he has ever been because he is with God. He was ready to go, Andy.”

  “Ready to go in the garden!” Andy yelled, slamming the iPod to the ground. “And he was supposed to get better!”

  “He is better,” Judi said. “It’s going to take some time for us to—”

  “You don’t know that, Mom,” Andy interrupted, leaning over and picking up the iPod. He held his open palm out over the grave and one of the earbuds dangled down toward Rip’s coffin. “You better, Uncle Rip? You told me I don’t need this to have faith. Why don’t I feel anything anymore? Where is God right now? Why doesn’t He show His face and make me feel better?”

  Judi put her arm around him and he stepped out from under it.

  “I’m outta here,” Andy said. He stuffed the iPod in his front pocket and headed toward the rear exit of the cemetery.

&n
bsp; Heather and Chelsea started after him and Pastor Welsh held up his hands. “Let him go. He needs more time.”

  “Let’s just head back to the house,” Judi said. “We’ll give him an hour or so, and when the time comes, I think we know where we’ll find him.”

  Judi didn’t like her own idea of giving Andy an hour. They hadn’t been back at the house for more than twenty minutes before they all piled into her Tempo, and by the time they’d driven halfway through the corn, they could see Andy down past the opening, sitting up on the edge of the ramp.

  They pulled up behind him and got out of the car. Heather and Chelsea stayed back as Judi and Pastor Welsh walked around the front of the ramp and looked up at Andy.

  “God never leaves. People leave Him, but He won’t leave you,” Andy said, his eyes firmly fixed on the remaining part of the garden. “That’s what you told me, Pastor Welsh, and I believed you.”

  Pastor Welsh didn’t look at Andy. He just took a step down the bank, crossed his arms, and stared across the canal at the flowers. “I’m glad you believed me, Andy. Because it’s true.”

  “Where is God right now?” Andy asked. “I thought it was Him that I was hearing through the iPod. I thought it was Him in my dreams, and I thought it was Him that I used to feel whenever I looked at that garden, or whatever the heck it is over there.”

  “It was Him,” Welsh said. “In fact, I can feel Him over there right now.”

  “Really?” Andy said. “I don’t.”

  Welsh glanced over his shoulder and up at Andy. “And I can also feel God when I look at you. He was with you when He had a word for His people, just as He’s with you right now, Andy.”

  Judi smiled when she heard that. Her first in close to a week.

  “Yeah, right,” Andy said. “I know you said God chose unlikely candidates, but c’mon . . . Why me?”

  “I’m not out here to speculate with you,” Welsh said firmly. “Why don’t you tell me why God wouldn’t pick you?”

  Andy finally looked away from the garden and right at Welsh. His eyebrows huddled and then relaxed like he was going to answer, but he didn’t.

  “That’s a good question,” Judi said as Andy looked back at the flowers.