Page 4 of Bad Seed

Silence.

“Are you still there?” Harley asked. Then she heard a sigh.

“Yes, I’m here. I was just thinking how ugly your chosen profession is.”

“You think a face without makeup is ugly. You don’t know the depths of ugly, but it’s damn sure not me or my job,” Harley snapped. “Are either of you sick?”

Judith flinched. “No, but—”

“Did you go bankrupt?”

Judith snorted. “Of course not!”

“Are you getting a divorce?”

Judith gasped. “No!”

“Is someone threatening you?” Harley asked.

“No! What’s the matter with you?” Judith asked.

“Since you have no interest in my contributions toworld peace, I was wondering why the hell you even called.”

Judith sighed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“Yes, you did mean to, Mother. You are a broken record when it comes to me. You think belittling me will bring me to my knees and I’ll come running home. Good to know you’re both well. I’m soul-weary. Today, I’m going to have a massage, and eat pizza, and sleep when I want to, or until I get a phone call about the next job, whichever comes first.”

She disconnected the call, laid her head back on the sofa, and swallowed past the lump in her throat.Why, God? In all the world, why did You choose those people as my parents? What do You expect me to learn from them?

Quiet wrapped around her, easing the momentary pain of their rejection. She was still leaning back with her eyes closed when she felt as if she was being hugged, and then a different thought rolled through her head.Maybe they’re the ones who were meant to learn from you.

Tears rolled, tracking down her temples and into her hairline. She swiped at them angrily as she bolted up from the sofa and walked to the windows overlooking Lake Michigan. It was snowing, and she was congratulating herself for taking the red-eye last night instead of waiting to travel today. At least she was safely tucked in for the duration, however long this snowstorm might last.

But the loneliness of her life was obvious. She stood with her forehead pressed against the glass, feeling thecold against her skin, and wondered what it would be like to be loved. Truly loved. Without reservations. Without expectations of anything but loving in return.

***

February: Jubilee, Kentucky

It was a little past 1:00 p.m. when Brendan Pope sped past Bullard’s Campgrounds on his motorcycle. The day was brisk, but the sun was shining, and speed always made him feel like he could outrun his past.

He’d been riding since just after daybreak and was finally on his way back to Jubilee. Once he’d passed Bullard’s Campgrounds, he knew the highway was a straight shot into town. There was nothing in front of him but a long ribbon of concrete bordered by bar ditches full of tall, dried grass and ancient pines pointing straight up to heaven.

All of a sudden, a huge plume of smoke and debris appeared in the distance, like something had exploded. He frowned, worrying about what might have happened, but as he rode closer, he saw a red charter bus sliding sideways on its side, and what appeared to be a moving van barreling into the field beyond it. It took a few seconds for him to realize he’d just witnessed a head-on collision.

He was less than 200 yards away now and flying, but he knew response time was imperative so he beganto brake, then pulled over to the side of the highway, tapped into his phone via the Bluetooth in his helmet, and called 911.

“Jubilee Police. How can I help you?”

“This is Brendon Pope. I’m out on the eastbound highway between Jubilee and Bullard’s Campgrounds. I just witnessed a head-on collision between a charter bus and a moving van. The bus is on its side and smoking. The van is off the south side of the highway in someone’s field. I’m about two hundred yards away, riding in now. Hurry. This bus could catch fire any second and I don’t have a fire extinguisher on my bike.”

“Sending all units now,” the dispatcher said, and Brendon disconnected and gunned it toward the wreck.

He was about forty yards away when he parked on the opposite side of the highway, hung his helmet on the bike, and got off running. The windows he could see on the side facing up had most of the glass missing. And because the bus was lying on the loading side, the door was blocked.

He could see some of the passengers trying to climb out of the shattered windows and onto the side of the bus, and he ran to the exit door and yanked it open. Almost immediately, passengers began spilling out of the door and running to get away before the bus caught fire, while others staggered only a few yards before falling down—nearly all of them bleeding in some form or fashion. Brendan was helping the injured down when he spotted movement on top of the bus and looked up.

One young man had crawled out through a broken window, and with obvious injuries. Blood was gushing from a wound in his leg, and jumping down was no longer an option.

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