Pastor's Assignment by Kim O'Brien Page B

hope You’re enjoying this. She slipped into her sweat suit and headed out the back door to check the state of the broken washing machine.
    The back door closed with an ominous click, and even before Laney put her hand on the knob, she knew it had locked behind her. Blinking as her eyes adjusted to the darkness, Laney stared at the locked door. She wanted to bang her head against it. Why did it always seem as if Murphy’s Law had been written just for her?
    Trying not to worry about how she would get back into the house, Laney put this setback behind her and followed the concrete stepping-stones to the back of the house. She stubbed her toe and would have gotten a nasty scratch on a protruding branch if not for the thick facial mask.
    Near the back fence an oversized garbage can sat next to a forlorn-looking washing machine. Laney stepped closer. As far as she could tell, it didn’t have a scratch. When she opened the lid, the insides looked like those of any other washing machine.
    Frowning, Laney closed the lid. June had been exaggerating. No one had smashed the washing machine during a grief-stricken rampage. She could cross June and Terry off her list. Now the problem remained. How could she get back into the house?
    She remembered the doorbell didn’t work. At the risk of summoning the neighbors, Laney didn’t want to pound on the door or shout. The twenty-four-hour gas station and convenience store seemed a reasonable solution. She could telephone June from a pay phone.
    She was thankful plenty of loose change had found its way to the floor of her minivan. She was also glad she’d left it unlocked. She retrieved enough money to call and headed toward the gas station. She drew the hood of her sweatshirt over her head so the aluminum foil wouldn’t reflect the streetlights. The seaweed wrap had begun to dry and itched horribly. Her stubbed toe stung, and she wondered what color her hair was turning under the foil.
    Please don’t let anyone see me, Laney prayed. She walked more quickly. When she reached the gas station, she peered through a corner of the window to make sure no one was inside.
    Satisfied with the emptiness of the convenience store, she swung the door open and walked in. Her bare feet slapped on the cold, polished floor as she crossed to the pay phone. She’d nearly reached her destination when the clerk turned and saw her.
    For a moment they both froze. They locked gazes, each mirroring the same horrified expression. The clerk, a heavyset man with a ruddy complexion, recovered first. “Take whatever you want—just please, don’t hurt me.”
    â€œI’m not robbing your store,” Laney said. “Look,” she said. “No gun.” She held out her arms, which trailed particles of the green seaweed wrap.
    â€œAngel of death,” the frightened clerk gasped as he hit the silent alarm and then fainted.

Fourteen
    Ty Steele drew his pistol and threw open the door to the Eat and Go. He spotted the suspect immediately, a cloaked dark figure crouching over the prone body of the clerk.
    â€œPolice!” he yelled, scanning the store for other perpetrators and gripping his pistol with both hands. “Freeze,” he ordered. “Drop your weapon and move away from the man.”
    The suspect eased backward. Ty couldn’t tell if he had a weapon under the black hooded sweat suit or not. “Put your hands up,” Ty said, moving closer, simultaneously assessing danger and injury to the prone clerk.
    â€œOkay,” he told the suspect. “Turn around slowly with your hands in the air.”
    With one hand steady on his gun, Ty reached for his handcuffs. His fingers froze as the suspect’s face became visible. His eyes widened then narrowed. It had to be some sort of mistake. The suspect had green skin. And if that wasn’t bad enough, it looked like Laney Varner. It couldn’t be, could it? “Is that you,