Touched by Angels (Angels Everywhere #3)(20)

“Exactly where does this Craig Houle live?” Goodness demanded as the three hovered over the Queensboro Bridge. Gabriel should count his blessings. There was a time, not so long past, when Goodness would have taken delight in dallying with streetlights and rerouting New York City traffic.

“According to this, Craig lives on Roosevelt Island,” Shirley answered, reading over the request form. “At this time of day, he’s most likely in school.”

“Yes, but it’s his parents we need to influence, right?” Mercy asked, thinking on her feet—er, wings.

“Right,” the other two agreed.

“Then all we need do is convince his mother or father to do a little pre-Christmas shopping.”

Goodness made a tsk-tsk sound. “I think it’s time we taught Gabriel a lesson on just how good we are.”

“I don’t believe I’ve ever been more offended,” Shirley said as the three briskly headed toward Roosevelt Island.

Peggy Houle walked down the quiet hospital corridor and sat at the nurses’ station. Her rubber soles barely made a sound on the polished tile floor.

She started to make a notation in one of her patient’s charts when she noticed a newspaper spread open across the top of the counter.

“That’s odd,” she mumbled to herself, and scooted the paper aside.

She looked around, wondering who’d left it. One thing was certain: none of the nurses were accorded the luxury of sitting down and reading. Not while on duty, at any rate. The hospital was short-staffed as it was, and breaks, even the ones allotted them in the terms of their contract, were often few and far between.

“My dogs are barking.” Ellen Freeman, another nurse, joined Peggy. She slipped off her shoe and rubbed her sore toes. “This is what I get for not breaking in these new shoes first.” She reached for the newspaper. “Who left this?”

“I don’t know. It wasn’t here five minutes ago.”

“Look,” Ellen said, pointing to the printed page. “There’s a gigantic toy sale going on for the next couple of days. I haven’t even started my Christmas shopping.”

“I was finished last week,” Peggy said, feeling almost smug. She’d hit the stores her first day off following Thanksgiving and finished it all in one fell swoop—wrapping paper, new decorations, tinsel, the whole nine yards.

There wasn’t a reason on this earth good enough for her to voluntarily step inside a store again in the whole month of December. Not when it seemed the entire city had gone crazy. At the end of her shift all Peggy wanted to do was head home.

“I’ve been thinking I’d buy the kids educational gifts this year,” Ellen murmured. “Something that will stir their minds instead of those brainless television games. I can’t tell you how sick I am of them sitting like zombies holding on to their joysticks.”

“A chess set?” Peggy said, and snapped her head back, startled.

“A chess set,” Ellen repeated, oblivious of her friend’s chagrin. “Now that I think about it, you’re right. A chess set is an excellent idea.”

“What did I just say?”

“A chess set.” Ellen looked up, surprised. “Is something wrong?”

“No . . . the funniest thing just happened.” Peggy slapped the side of her head, hoping that would help.

“What?” Ellen was curious now.

“The words a chess set echoed in my ear. Three times, and each time I swear I was hearing a different voice.”

“I still think it’s an excellent idea,” Ellen said, and replaced her shoe. “Are you sure you won’t come to the toy store with me?”

“Ah . . .” Peggy hesitated, then found herself agreeing. “Sure,” she mumbled, “why not?” For the life of her, she couldn’t imagine why she was doing such a thing. “Who knows, maybe Craig would be interested in learning how to play chess himself,” she said to justify her actions. After all, it was a good idea. Her son would enjoy learning the game.

Peggy leaned back on her chair. Abruptly she shook her head, then repeatedly slapped her hand against her ear. “It happened again,” she said incredulously.

“You heard the words a chess set?”

“No,” Peggy said, and shook her head like a dog fresh out of the water. “It was the same three voices, only this time they said . . .”

“Yes,” Ellen prodded.

“You aren’t going to believe this.” Peggy wasn’t entirely sure she believed it herself. “Piece of cake,” she mumbled, and shrugged, completely baffled.

“Oh, my,” Shirley said, pointing into the distance. “Brynn Cassidy’s in trouble.” It was just what she’d expected would happen.

“Trouble?” Mercy repeated. “What’s wrong?”

Cocky with their success, Goodness brushed the grit from her hands. “Trouble’s our middle name. Brynn doesn’t have a thing to worry about.”

“Brynn might not, but we do,” Mercy said, looking skeptical. “Gabriel isn’t going to like this one bit. Not after the warning he gave us to stay away from her.”

“Brynn’s car won’t start,” Shirley informed her friends, her voice growing more concerned. “And I don’t like the looks of those men, either.” Clad in black leather jackets, two men stood on the other side of the chain-link fence, watching Brynn.