Without Mercy - Lisa Jackson [86]
She rubbed her eyes, thinking of her next move. No matter what tack she decided to take, she knew the wise choice would be to include Cooper Trent.
He used to be a cop.
He’s smart.
God knows he’s brave.
Work with him instead of against him.
“Yeah, right.” She walked to the bathroom and splashed cold water on her face, then stared at her reflection as she patted her skin with a towel. Her eyes were still snapping fire, her hair dark and curling with melting snow.
Maybe Shay was right, she thought as she dropped her towel into the sink, then quickly finger-combed her hair and twisted it into a ponytail.
She snapped a rubber band into place. Maybe coming here, taking the job, was a mistake.
But it was too late to change that now. And she couldn’t afford to be late for the vigil, unless she wanted to draw unwanted attention to herself. No, the more invisible she was, the more innocuous-seeming, the better.
She’d somehow gotten through the fifteen-minute meeting with the reverend and his wife, though Cora Sue had simmered throughout her husband’s we’re-all-just-one-big-happy-family conversation, which seemed ridiculous in light of what was going on.
And Lynch bugged her. Jules didn’t consider herself particularly religious, but she had her own feelings about God and had met a few preachers that she really liked, whose faith was secure and solid, not overblown and dramatic. Those youth ministers had a sense of humor, an overflowing wealth of compassion and a deep-seated trust in God.
Those men and women saw people’s foibles and, with care and love, laughter and hope, helped the misguided or forlorn. They prayed and gave sermons, joined baseball teams, and helped in hospitals. They were part of bazaars and golf tournaments and giving of themselves to their community and others worldwide. Within each and every one was a happiness in their faith and a sense of purpose to do God’s will with an easy smile and a strong, helping hand.
Those men and women held deep convictions, and Jules respected them for it. If she were to guess, though she hadn’t had much time with him yet, she thought the younger man, Reverend McAllister, was someone with whom the kids might relate, a minister whose relationship to them wasn’t out of the Dark Ages.
Not so Tobias Lynch, at least from what she’d observed here to date. Granted, things were tough, and maybe her first impression was off or colored by Shaylee’s jaded reactions to anything that happened at the school.
So far, it appeared that Reverend Lynch was always onstage, performing an act. For all his big talk, there was no way he could connect with his students here. It was almost as if the man were from a bygone time and place.
And he was in charge. Unbelievable.
Returning to the living area, she bundled up against the cold and grabbed the prayer book and fake, battery-powered candle that had been left for her. “In for a penny, in for a pound.”
She flew down the stairs and joined the throng heading along recently shoveled paths leading to the gazebo. Snow was still coming down like crazy, piling on rails and streetlamps, causing fir boughs to droop and giving the campus an otherworldly glow. All trails seemed to end in the mass of bobbing white pin dots, the lights of battery-powered candles held by students and faculty spilling out of the gazebo. Only a handful of faculty fit in the small structure, where Reverend Lynch stood atop a platform, his wife and Dr. Burdette flanking him. Yin and Yang, Jules thought. In her stocking cap, down jacket, thermal pants, and hiking boots, Burdette was the direct opposite of Lynch’s wife in her designer ski outfit with fur trim.
Decidedly un-PC.
Not that Cora Sue would care how many ermine or snow leopards had to give their lives for the trim on her hood and high-heeled boots.
Jules had hoped that Trent would be nearby, but he stood on the fringe of the crowd, close to a path that led away from the central campus to the barns and outbuildings, a walkway she’d seen on the map in her room. He didn’t catch her