A Fountain Filled With Blood

“I don’t think my congregation—all thirty of them who turned up for this morning’s Eucharist—will mind. I like to compete once in awhile, especially in the summer. It keeps me from slacking off on those mornings when it feels too hot to run.” She shivered as another cool breeze gusted past them. “Not that that’s a problem today.”

Flynn hitched his belt up, setting his rig jingling. “Say, Reverend, did I see you driving a Shelby Cobra the other day? That’s a way cool car.”

Clare’s face lighted up. “It is, isn’t it? I bought it from a man who collects early muscle cars. It’s a ’sixty-six, in great condition. Just needed a new carburetor and a little work on the electrical system.” Her voice had taken on a faint southern drawl. “I always wanted me a Shelby.”

Russ crossed his arms and leaned against the roof of the cruiser. “You should have gotten something heavy, with four-wheel drive. Something that can maneuver in the snow.”

Clare and Flynn looked at him. “I’d rather have something I can maneuver on the road,” Clare said.

“Yeah,” Flynn said. “After all, you can always load some weight in the trunk and put on chains come winter-time. What are the specs?”

“Four hundred fifty-two liters and a V-eight. Let me tell you, that little honey can eat up the road.”

“Oh, man, I bet. I’ve heard they can run at eighty without even opening up the throttle full. That I’d like to see.”

“You’re not suggesting Reverend Fergusson break the state speed limit, are you, Officer Flynn?”

Kevin looked abashed. “Um,” he said.

“Don’t pick on the boy, Russ. He has the right idea.” She gave Kevin a gleaming smile. “Just because the only thing you think of is—”

“Safety.”

She waved a hand in the air, dissipating his word like so much blown smoke. “I am a very safe driver. And you’ve never had me drive you anywhere, so you can’t say otherwise. Can you?”

“I’ve let you drive me crazy,” he said. The second it was out of his mouth, he felt the tips of his ears go red. God! What an asinine thing to say!

Clare’s cheeks pinked. Her throat moved as she swallowed, but she didn’t say anything. His mind raced feverishly for something, anything, to throw out to break the silence, since he was pretty sure the earth wouldn’t conveniently open up and swallow him whole.

“Have you heard from Paul Foubert?” he blurted.

She blinked. “No,” she said. Then her face brightened. “No!” she repeated, relief plain in her voice. “Nope, nope, haven’t heard from him. How ’bout you?”

“Not since Friday. Emil’s serious, but stable. He hasn’t woken up yet, so we haven’t been able to get any information from him.” He felt steadier, although his ears were still burning. “We’re still trying to track down the truck involved. “Nothing yet. But we’ve got three county sheriff’s departments and the state police looking, so we’ve cast a pretty wide net. I’m hopeful.”

A skinny teenager in a volunteer T-shirt paused while hurrying past them. “Hey, if you’re racing today, better get over to the pen,” he said to Clare. “They’re starting now.”

“Gotta go,” she said, looking even more relieved. “Wish me luck.”

“Break a leg!” Flynn said.

Clare and Russ both looked at him. “Kevin—” Russ began.

Clare cut him off. “Thank you, Officer Flynn,” she said. “See you at the finish line.” She loped off to join the throng of runners crowded into a rectangular starting area marked off by snapping Tyvek ribbon.

Russ reached beneath his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. He had missed the bullet on that one, for sure. “Kevin, I’m going to take a turn around the park and—” The shout of the spectators cut him off as the starting official in front whirled and lowered her flag and the runners surged forward, sprinting out of the park entrance and onto Mill Street. He leaned back into the cruiser and keyed the mike. “Dispatch, this is fifteen fifty-seven.”

“Fifteen fifty-seven, I hear you.”

“The runners have left the park. Remind the guys on the intersections that we’re supposed to get an all clear from one of the race coordinators before letting traffic through again. I don’t want to have any stragglers run over.”

“Roger that, fifteen fifty-seven. I’ll get right on it.”

He hung up. “Kevin, I’m going to go show the flag. You stay with the cruiser.” He figured as long as the three hiker chicks were hanging around, it would take a major civil emergency to get the young officer to leave his present post, but it didn’t hurt to reiterate things where Kevin was concerned.