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“His cubicle is down on the right.” The woman pointed with a manicured finger.
Zack took long strides through the hallway. For Tucker’s sake, he prayed he hadn’t been the one to publish the story. Zack’s fingers cramped. He hadn’t even realized he’d had them balled up. He opened and closed his hands to relieve the tension.
That’s not how I see you. You are a child of God. The past does not define you.
He could have sworn Naya’s words had been coupled with a glimmer of hope in her eyes. How he wanted to be the man she believed in. But how could he measure up?
Of course, it didn’t matter that he wasn’t perfect. Because he’d never attain that on earth. The posture of his heart was whatwas important. Zack knew it. But it was another level to believe the truth and live in it.
Naya had affirmed all the qualities in him that only God could have worked out. Yet it still didn’t feel like enough. Not after the conversation with Bryce, Macon, and Allen. They had their doubts, and Zack didn’t know when he would be able to stop proving himself. When others would stop pegging him as a troublemaker.
The thought of people whispering behind his back, questioning if he should be allowed around the foster boys, or even questioning his ability to stay on rescue squad threatened to send anxiety bubbling to the surface.
Thank You, Lord, for making me into a new man. Help me live out my new identity. May others see it too.
He stopped in front of the cubicle with Tucker’s name plate on the wall and rapped on the divider.
“Tucker, it’s—” Zack walked around the corner and froze. An array of papers littered the man’s desk. A mug lay overturned, and coffee dripped off the edge onto the floor. Where was he? The five-by-five area wasn’t big enough to hide in. And why leave in such a rush?
Zack grabbed a tissue and wiped up the puddle of coffee. He slid a few papers over to keep them from getting more wet. Maybe Tucker’s boss was in and he could talk with the man. Zack crumpled the tissue, and the words on an index card caught his attention.
I’m sorry. I can’t do it anymore. This mistake is too big to fix. I deserve to die in that river where this whole mess started.
River.
Wats only go empty’n wivers.
Now was not the time to think about his dad’s silly game.
Zack snatched the note and raced back down the hall.
Had Tucker played a role in the scheme this whole time? What if he’d lied to Naya about his involvement?
Zack bounded down the steps two at a time and sprinted to his car. He wasn’t about to let a man die on his watch. Even if the guy had played a role in publishing the article.
While one hand turned the ignition, Zack dialed 9-1-1 with the other.
“Where’s your emergency?”
“The Penn Bridge. By the river. I have reason to believe someone is making a suicide attempt.” Zack pressed down harder on the gas. The speedometer climbed. The bridge was ten minutes away, but Zack would make it five.
“Medics and rescue are on their way.”
Zack couldn’t let Tucker kill himself.
The car tires squealed to a stop by the curb, and Zack shoved open the door. He bolted past the park entrance. The bridge, or what was left of the structure, stood in view.
Please Lord, don’t let me be too late.
Zack scanned the area. A few kids played on the playground nearby. A couple walked their dog on the path that wound past the river.
Tucker had to be here somewhere. Zack just hoped he wasn’t already in the water.
Movement to his right caught his attention.
The man had one leg wrapped over the side of the bridge.
“Tucker. Wait!” Zack tore through the caution tape blocking the area and bounded up the bridge. This side of the structure seemed sturdy enough. The last thing he needed was the rest of the bridge collapsing. “You don’t have to do this.”