The Bishop’s Wife (Linda Wallheim Mystery, #1)(103)

“Please, Aaron,” said Judy, her voice breaking as tears streamed down her face. She was good at tears.

“Go, then. Both of you,” he said at last. He turned his back on me, and threw the knife in the air.

I didn’t wait to see where it landed. I grabbed hold of Judy’s wrist, yanked on the sliding glass doors, and threw Judy out of them. Then I jumped on top of her and rolled, taking her with me down the lawn and toward the street.

The SWAT team came in immediately after that. With an open door, and the hostages out, they seized the opportunity.

Long minutes later, I heard gunfire inside the house. Judy flinched with each shot as I prayed my thanks that I was still alive. An EMT came over to us and helped us to our feet, then led us to an ambulance that was waiting nearby.

I was bleeding and hadn’t noticed it. Aaron Weston had cut me with that knife of his, after all. I stared at my bleeding left arm and wondered why he hadn’t dug deeper, or simply killed me.

They say God looks after fools. Maybe this was the proof of it.

We saw Aaron being carried out of the house on a stretcher while we were still waiting for transport to the hospital. I couldn’t see his face because it was covered with an oxygen mask. He looked as if he’d been shot in the chest, but they had a separate ambulance for him.


KURT CAME TO see me at Lone Peak Hospital. They insisted that I go to have the cut on my left arm checked out, even though I thought I was fine.

He didn’t chastise me. He simply sat and held my hand and told me loved me.

When I was finally discharged late that night, he kissed me gently on the cheek.

“We’ll have to talk about this,” Kurt said.

“I know.”

We had a lot to talk about.





CHAPTER 35




Samuel wouldn’t speak to me Monday night when I got home. There was no pretense of Family Home Evening.

“He’s mad you could have gotten hurt. He’ll come around,” said Kurt, as he helped me up the stairs to our bedroom.

I hoped Kurt was right about Samuel. I couldn’t bear for my youngest son, the one most like me, to hold a grudge.

When I woke up the next day, I felt as if my skin had been filled with sand while I slept. There were no muscles inside me, and I felt very heavy.

Kurt brought me breakfast in bed, and I spent the morning on the phone with the older boys, who were apparently still talking to me. Samuel had gone off to school without a word, and he hadn’t answered either of the two text messages I had sent him.

Kurt had taken time off work, despite the clients who insisted they had “emergencies.” I was touched by that. We also had a visit from Cheri Tate, who said she had arranged for meals to come for the next week.

Kurt didn’t hover, but went down to his office and got to some church paperwork he’d been putting off for a while. About noon, I got up and coaxed myself into taking a careful bath. The heat seemed to melt away the sandy feeling. My left arm still hurt where they had put in stitches, but if I put on a long-sleeved shirt, I could almost forget about it. No one else could see it, either, and when I looked at myself critically in the mirror, I did not think any of the events of the day before showed. I looked tired and my eyes were a little red, but there was no more proof that I had nearly been killed than that. But the change was inside me, even so.

I thought of going for a short walk, and I stepped outside without knocking on Kurt’s door.

The first thing I saw was a FOR SALE sign in front of the Helm house. It hit me hard and I could feel my legs falling out from under me. I went down on my knees on the sidewalk and then knelt there for a long minute. My ears rang, but I didn’t appear to have broken anything. I tried to laugh at myself. This was literalizing the metaphor, wasn’t it?

A car drove by, and I saw the kind face of a ward member poking out from a window.

I lifted a hand and waved them on. “I’m fine,” I called out. Just wanted to kneel on the ground for a few minutes. They probably thought I was being super devout and had decided in the middle of my walk to kneel down and pray. Or maybe they just thought I was crazy. That would be closer to the mark.

I pushed off the sidewalk with the palms of my hands and got to my feet. I took a few small, steadying steps before deciding that I was fine, that I could do this walk, so long as I didn’t have to face any more bad news about Kelly Helm.

I went back inside and told Kurt I was going to Anna’s. He asked me if I was sure, but he didn’t try to stop me.

“I’ll be here if you need anything. Make sure you have your phone,” he said.

In case I fell again and needed help getting up, yes.

I walked over to Anna’s house and we went around the neighborhood. When we passed the Helm home, Anna’s hand tightened on mine.

“Don’t look,” she said to me.

“I already saw it,” I said, and looked again. It still hurt to see it. I found myself holding my breath, unable to keep walking. The pain in my left arm suddenly flared up and I felt almost as if I were back in the house with Aaron Weston and his knife.

No, I was home. I was free of him. Kelly was free of him, too.

But not of Jared and Alex Helm.

“She will be fine,” said Anna. “She will go to another ward and she’ll be taken care of there. You have to depend on that. There are good ward members all over the world.”