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You are mine. I am with you.The words the Lord spoke in Scripture whispered an assuring response.
Eddie added, “Just be there for her. Sit. Listen. Pray.”
Yes, that’s what he’d do. However he could help her, he’d do it. “I called her this morning to check in, but she didn’t answer.”
“Is she by herself?”
“No. Her friend came over to stay with her.” Zack slung his damp towel over his shoulder. “That scene yesterday is haunting me. I kept telling Naya the danger was reason enough to give up finding the truth. But now I almost understand the need to get answers. This killer has taken too many lives.”
“Right now, Naya needs you.” Eddie stood up and closed the distance between them. “Don’t get wrapped up in more trouble when you can support her with your presence.” Eddie slapped Zack on the shoulder.
Eddie was right. Zack didn’t need to go out and find the killer. Or make Naya think this was all her fault. Not when he understood the blame game all too well. Sitting in the shame wouldn’t change the outcome. She needed him to be there to listen.Lord, watch over Naya. Remind her of the truth in the midst of this heartache. Encourage her heart with the reality that You will never leave her nor forsake her.
A rap sounded on the gym door. Trace popped his head in. “Lieutenant wants to see you in his office, Zack.”
“I’m going to change real quick, then I’ll be in.” Zack headed to the shower stall to rinse off.
Five minutes later, he put on a fresh uniform, then made his way to Bryce’s office. He paused in the doorway when he spotted the chief, Macon James, and city liaison, Allen Frees, in conversation with Bryce.
He pivoted on his heel, ready to give them space to finish up whatever they needed to discuss.
Instead, Bryce paused midsentence and waved his hand. “Come on in. Have a seat.”
Zack eased himself into the chair next to Macon, across from the lieutenant’s desk. Already his muscles protested the movement.
“What’s going on?” He drew the words out while making eye contact with each man. Whatever had happened must be significant. Allen never came to meetings unless it impacted the town.
Zack didn’t want to entertain the idea of trouble from the get-go, but having all the bosses in one room made his spine tingle.
“Have you kept up with the news over the past few hours?”
Zack’s mind kicked into overdrive, and his heart rate sped up. Had something new surfaced he didn’t know about? “Not really, why?”
Frees cleared his throat and spoke up. “An article was published two hours ago and has already gained an immense amount of traction and comments.”
Bryce spun his computer around.
Zack scooted to the edge of the seat and skimmed the glaring headline.
Firefighter working to cover up dad’s missteps puts department reputation at risk.
At the top of the article, a picture of Zack in the woods, glancing over his shoulder, was positioned next to another photo of him by the pile of sandbags and truck yesterday.
“Take a minute to read this, then we can chat.” Bryce handed him the computer mouse.
Zack scrolled down the page and couldn’t believe what had been written, never mind published. His throat tightened. He wanted to shout that none of this was true.
The author built an argument stemming from the water contamination situation.
Local firefighter Zack Stephens has knownall along that the fire extinguishers and foam on the market were poisoning people. He was caught at the dumping ground, where sandbags concealed chemicals discarded in the river. His work at the fire department is putting people in jeopardy. Thanks to his hazmat training, he has all the knowledge needed to concoct the chemical reactions causing the water threat in the first place.
Blaming the entire problem on Zack.
But what had him ready to jump up and demand answers was the snippet about his time in foster care.Zack Stephens is a troublemaking goofball who is passing along those same qualities to teen foster boys—grooming them for a life of illegal activities.
Heat burned at the base of Zack’s neck, and he gripped the mouse tighter. He scrolled back up to the top in search of the person responsible for this news piece. Except he couldn’t find one. It only showed the Last Chance Tribune’s logo and banner at the top.
“Who wrote this?” Zack’s gaze flitted between the men.