“Good,” Gracie sighed. “We probably still have too many older white folks, but it’s not nearly as big a deal for civil trials as criminal cases. If either one of the judges was handling criminal cases, I’m not sure this would work.”

  “It’s a good thing so many people like you and were willing to say yes.”

  Her heart beating a little faster than normal, Gracie walked upstairs to the small courtroom. She peeked inside. Judge Williams wasn’t there. Going down the hallway to Judge Claremont’s chambers, she found Amanda at her desk.

  “Is Judge Williams still here?” Gracie asked. “I need to talk to him about the jury pool for next week.”

  “No, but I have Judge Williams’s cell phone number if you need to reach him.”

  “That’s not necessary,” Gracie replied. “But can you leave him a message that I was able to summon extra jurors for next week?”

  “I can,” Amanda said slowly. “But before he left, Judge Claremont told me Judge Williams was only going to handle bench trials in which the parties waive a jury.”

  “What?” Gracie sputtered. “One of my assistants and I just spent all afternoon contacting people to come in!”

  “Sorry,” Amanda apologized. “I didn’t know.”

  The judges were the kings of the courthouse and could be arbitrary with impunity.

  “Well, a lot of people are going to be sitting in the courtroom on Monday morning wondering why they’re here,” Gracie said.

  She went downstairs and broke the news to Brenda, who didn’t try to hide her shock. “Do you want me to come in tomorrow and try to call the new folks and tell them not to come?” the chief assistant asked.

  “No, that makes it look like we made a mistake when we didn’t.”

  After changing clothes, Gracie headed toward the ballfield. As she was pulling into the parking lot, her phone vibrated. It was Buddy Smith. Wanting a few minutes of peace and quiet, she thought about letting the call go to voice mail but answered.

  “How are you?” the lawyer asked.

  “Fine,” Gracie said curtly.

  “Wasn’t that a great development in the Ford case? Mayleah Harkness worked her magic with Judge Williams.”

  “Yeah, I just hope they catch Jackie and lock him up.”

  “You’re not going to mention what happened in court to anyone, are you?”

  “No. I wouldn’t want the word to get out and then someone warn Jackie.”

  “Right, I figured you’d make that connection. What was going on with you and Judge Williams this afternoon? It looked like we interrupted something.”

  “He had questions about the jury pool for next week. Look, I’m at the ballfield and don’t have much time to talk.”

  “Okay, bye.”

  Laura Anselm was firing balls toward the backstop from the pitcher’s mound. Gracie got out of her car and stretched. Taking the large bag of balls from the trunk of the car, she slung them over her shoulder and walked to the mound.

  “Would you mind catching while I pitch?” Gracie asked Laura. “I need to burn off some steam. I won’t be throwing anything except inside fastballs. You know, the kind of pitch that either hits the batter or makes them jump away from the plate.”

  Laura’s eyes widened. “Yes, ma’am.”

  * * *

  Buddy showered and prepared to go to Chris Henley’s house for a cookout with a large group of friends, including Jason and Katie Long. Along the way, he picked up a container of potato salad from a local deli for his contribution to the food. As a bachelor, Buddy could still get away with bringing a food offering that wasn’t homemade. Chris’s wife, Marissa, met him at the door and took the potato salad from him.

  “This is perfect,” said the auburn-haired woman with a pixie nose and freckles. “I didn’t have time to make any, and this is way better than anything at the grocery store.”

  “Great.”

  “I wish Krista could join us sometime soon,” Marissa said as she led the way to the kitchen at the rear of the house. “I enjoyed talking to her the one time we met. She has so many amazing stories of places she’s been that I have to dream about until the kids are older.”

  “Uh, we broke up three months ago.”

  “What?” Marissa spun around and her mouth dropped open. “Did Chris know about it?”

  Buddy couldn’t lie to protect his friend. He’d called Chris seeking sympathy the day it happened. “Yeah, but he probably forgot to mention it.”

  “Hmm.” Marissa sniffed.

  “Krista and I were like ships that passed in the night but didn’t end up docking at the same port,” Buddy continued.

  Marissa gave him a wry look. “If you can joke about it, the breakup must not have hurt too much,” she said.

  “You didn’t see me right after it happened.”

  Even with two small children, Marissa could lay out a spread suitable for a Southern Living cover. A recent heat wave had abated, and there was already a small group of people standing in the shady backyard. Marissa gave Buddy a gentle push toward the double doors that opened onto the area.

  “Hang out with your friends. And when it’s time to cook the steaks, make sure Chris doesn’t turn them into beef jerky. He gets distracted and forgets to watch the meat.”

  It was a cloudy evening, and a nice breeze was blowing from the northeast. Jason and Katie Long were talking to another couple. The doctor saw Buddy and immediately came over to him.

  “I was hoping you’d be here,” Jason said. “And I promise not to talk business for more than a few minutes. I get annoyed when people corner me at social events and ask me to diagnose what’s wrong with their kid who’s at home sick with a babysitter. But can I ask you a few questions about what the insurance company lawyers are telling me in the malpractice case? You prepared our wills, so we have an attorney-client relationship, correct?”

  “Yes.”

  For the next twenty minutes Jason talked to Buddy about the case filed against him. Jason was more friend than client. Buddy listened patiently and offered a few insights into the legal process.

  “That helps,” Jason said. “I don’t want to ask the lawyers in Atlanta a stupid question.”

  Chris came over to them. “You’ve been standing over here by yourselves long enough for Jason to take your temperature and blood pressure.”

  “I’m leaving before that happens,” the pediatrician said and moved on to another group of guests.

  “I’m glad I wasn’t wearing a blood pressure cuff when I was in front of Judge Williams the other day,” Buddy said to Chris.

  “He’s been great to me,” Chris replied. “I’ve won three straight cases.”

  Buddy shrugged. “You’re a good lawyer. But the Vince Nelson factor may be in operation.”

  “Possibly.” Chris grinned and then grew serious. “How is Jason doing? I assume he was talking to you about the malpractice claim. We haven’t met with him yet because the insurance company hasn’t officially hired us as local counsel. The primary lawyers are with a firm in Atlanta and are super territorial.”

  “This is tough on him. He really cares about his patients and doesn’t believe he made a mistake.”

  “Speaking of tough, Marissa raked me over the coals a few minutes ago for not telling her you broke up with Krista. She says you didn’t seem too upset.”

  “I’m okay now,” Buddy replied.

  “I saw you having breakfast the other day at the Crossroads with Gracie Blaylock. Have you ever thought about asking her out? She’s as local as they get, and there wouldn’t be a need to bring her up to speed on your life story.”

  “My life story?”

  “You know what I mean. It takes time to unpack the real person in any relationship. And she knows what it’s like to be around a lawyer. Gracie is attractive and strikes me as a straightforward person.”

  “She certainly knows how to throw strikes,” Buddy replied. He told Chris what he’d observed at the softball field.

  “I’m just trying to steer you in a direction that might work out for you,” Chris said. “And if I didn’t mention Gracie, Marissa would be all over me later tonight. She was intrigued by Krista, but after she met Gracie at a political event a couple of years ago, she came home telling me the two of you would make a good couple. Women can pick up on these things.”

  “So I’ve heard.”

  The back door opened and Marissa called out to Chris: “Are you ready for the steaks?”

  Chris gave her a thumbs-up.

  “Your wife also believes I’m supposed to supervise the cooking of the steaks,” Buddy said.

  “She’s right about that too.”

  * * *

  When the girls gathered in a circle to pray at the end of practice, Laura prayed, “Lord, please be with Coach Blaylock and take away the stress and tension she felt when she got here this afternoon. We don’t know what’s causing it, but you do. And help us do well in the tournament tomorrow.”

  The prayer made Gracie smile with appreciation. After the last girl left, she picked up the bag of softballs and carried it to her car. At home, she played in the backyard with Opie before bringing him into the house and feeding him supper. The unconditional love of the dog, expressed through dark eyes that were pools of devotion, was an added balm to her soul. Gracie fixed a salad and ate on the small deck at the rear of the house. Even though she was alone, a sweet presence enveloped her as the shadows lengthened.

  The following morning the softball team assembled at the high school to depart in a caravan to the tournament. There were two ballfields at their destination, and the round-robin format required all four teams to play one another. Gracie’s team and another team came into the third game with two wins and no losses. As the only undefeated teams, they would play for the championship.

  The title game was set to start at 2:00 p.m. Milton County’s opponent was the host team for the tournament, and there was a big crowd of local supporters in the stands. Gracie didn’t consider herself a great speaker, but she had a couple of motivational talks patterned after what she’d heard as a teenager. Gracie’s high school coach knew how to fire up a team. Gracie enjoyed telling the girls that nothing was impossible if they believed in one another and played with fire and passion. With loud whoops they ran out onto the field for the first inning.

  Gracie had used her two best pitchers in the early games, which meant several backups, including Laura, would have to pitch. The game was tied 5–5 when Gracie moved Laura from shortstop to the pitcher’s mound. Both teams were hitting well. Laura struck out the first batter she faced and pumped her fist in excitement. She walked the next batter. The next batter was one of the most skilled players on the other team. The girl completely missed one of the best rising fastballs Laura had ever thrown. Gracie, who was on the steps of the dugout, inched closer to the field to watch. Laura threw another rising softball that sailed over the catcher’s head and allowed the runner on first to scamper down to second base. Her next pitch was a changeup. The batter swung and made solid contact. The ball rose higher and higher in the air and sailed over the fence in dead center field. It was the longest home run of the day. Gracie gasped at the mammoth hit. Laura hung her head as the girl rounded the bases and was mobbed by her teammates at home plate. The next batter ripped a triple down the third base line. By the time Laura recorded the final out, the score was 9–5.

  “We’ll get ’em back,” Heidi said when the Milton County team filed slowly into the dugout.

  Laura did her part by hitting a single and stealing both second and third. She made it home on a weak grounder to second base. But the game ended with Milton County on the short end of a 10–7 score.

  “I lost the game for us in that one inning,” Laura said morosely to Gracie after the presentation of the championship trophy to the winning team. “I was too pumped up after striking that girl out and lost control.”

  “That can be a challenge for anyone. Do you remember when I showed up for practice yesterday? It took thirty pitches for me to calm down. If I’d tried to pitch when I was so amped up, it wouldn’t have gone well.”

  “Yeah, you were throwing so hard that it hurt my hand even wearing the catcher’s mitt. Is everything okay for you now?”

  “Nothing has changed except in here,” Gracie answered, pointing to her heart. “Your prayer helped more than you know.”

  Laura perked up. “Thanks.”

  “Yes. And because you’ve got such a great heart, you’re always going to be a winner. Gather the team together.”

  Laura stepped into the open space in front of their dugout. “Circle up!” she called out.

  * * *

  Buddy spent most of Saturday morning doing something he rarely did: playing a round of golf. Sammy Landry called and offered to pay the greens fees as a way to reimburse Buddy for agreeing to help them find Reagan. They were joined by two of Sammy’s friends. The conversation was light until Buddy and Sammy were walking up the twelfth fairway by themselves.

  “The detective from the sheriff’s department told Crystal that she was working with Gracie Blaylock and you,” Sammy said. “I appreciate Gracie putting her weight behind the investigation to get things moving.”

  “I agree. And based on my experience with Detective Harkness in another case, she won’t push the search for Reagan off to the side.”

  Sammy was silent for a moment before continuing. “I’ve been racking my brain trying to come up with anything that might explain why Reagan took off so suddenly. It’s hard not to let your mind run wild. Like I told you the other day, we’ve had more spats with her than the other kids, but nothing crazy. She’s headstrong, which I was proud of until this happened.” Sammy took a few more steps. “I’m afraid that she’s someplace where she can’t call or communicate with anyone,” the father said, voicing his greatest fear.

  Buddy could feel the torment of Sammy’s soul. “Sammy, I’ll make this a priority as high as if Reagan were my own daughter.”

  “Thanks, that helps.”

  Buddy ended up shooting a low score. One of Sammy’s friends claimed the long layoff probably enabled Buddy’s body to forget any bad habits that usually plagued his game.

  “It’s a physiological fact,” the friend said when Buddy crushed a drive past two fairway bunkers. “The signals from your brain to your muscles aren’t getting scrambled.”

  “And you didn’t cheat,” Sammy said as they walked off the eighteenth green. “Or break one of my clubs.”

  Inside the clubhouse, Buddy took his cell phone from a locker where he’d left it so he wouldn’t be interrupted. He had a text message from Mayleah Harkness asking him to call as soon as possible about the Ford case. Leaning his golf bag against the wall of the clubhouse, he placed a call to the detective, but it went to voice mail. As he drove away from the country club, Mayleah’s name appeared on his phone.

  “Sheriff Blackstone from Haskell County called me a couple of hours ago. They have the Ford boy.”

  “Yes!” Buddy pulled off onto a service road for the golf course and stopped. “What about Jackie?”

  “Not sure of his condition. He’s in the hospital.”

  “Did they have to shoot him?” Buddy asked in shock.

  “No. The sheriff gave me a brief rundown. They went to the compound at the crack of dawn. A man came out and denied knowing anything about Jackson Ford or his son. Then the head guy showed up and threatened some kind of lawsuit, alleging violations of their civil rights. While the sheriff talked to the leader, a deputy walked around to the back of the property and found a tent pitched behind one of the buildings. A little boy stuck his head out the entrance. The deputy recognized him from the photo we sent. It was the Ford boy.”

  “That changed everything.”

  “Yes. The deputy didn’t try to speak to the kid, but returned to the sheriff and told him what he’d seen. A few seconds later Jackie Ford came speeding around the building and sideswiped a patrol car. The officers pursued him with sirens blaring. About a mile from the compound, Ford ran off the road and flipped the car. When the officers came on the scene, they saw the boy. He hadn’t been wearing a seat belt and bounced around inside the car when it wrecked. He seems to be okay except for some cuts and scrapes. Jackie was knocked unconscious and is in the hospital. The sheriff didn’t know the extent of his injuries.”

  “I’ll let Sue Ellen Ford know immediately so she can go out there. That boy needs his mother.”

  “I’m going too.”

  “You are?”

  “Yes. I’ll make sure everything goes smoothly and then swing by Tulsa.”

  Fourteen

  The following day Gracie was eating Sunday dinner with her family. The main meal was over, and they were having warm peach cobbler with ice cream for dessert when the house phone rang.

  “Don’t answer it,” Gracie’s father said. “Whatever it is can wait.”

  Ignoring her husband, Maxine placed her napkin beside her plate and went into the kitchen. An ancient phone hung on the wall near the refrigerator.

  “Hello,” she said.

  There was a large open pass-through in the wall between the kitchen and the dining room, and Gracie could see her mother standing by the fridge with the phone in her hand.

  “Hallelujah!” Maxine exclaimed. “Praise God forevermore!”

  Everyone at the table turned and stared. The thought shot through Gracie’s mind that there was good news about Reagan Landry. Tingles ran down her spine.

  Maxine hung up the phone and returned to the dining room. “That was Valerie Cook. She’s in charge of the prayer network at Antioch Church. The police in Oklahoma have rescued the little Ford boy who was kidnapped by his daddy. His mother is on her way to pick him up.”

  “I hadn’t heard anything about that,” Gracie’s father said.

  “Gracie was right in the middle of it,” Maxine said, pointing across the table.

  “Not really,” Gracie replied. “I told the mother to contact Buddy Smith and see if he would get involved. The real hero is a detective who recently joined the sheriff’s department. She moved here from Oklahoma and helped tracked them through her contacts.”