LITMIR.BIZ

      Ethan Rogers wiped the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. “It’s way too hot for late May. And you’re a slave driver, Art Reams.”

      The tall, thin pastor of Loganton Bible Church leaned against his shovel and sent Ethan a look of mock sorrow. “You wound me! I’m just doing my best to serve the Lord, and with the groundbreaking just two weeks away, we don’t have the funds to hire someone to clear these weeds.”

      Ethan dropped the joking tone. “You are a servant, and I’m glad to help wherever I can. The new fellowship building’s going to be great—especially the gym. Kids need that kind of space.” He wiped the sweat from the back of his neck. “But you and I need a break. How about some of that iced tea you stash in the church fridge?”

      Art dropped the shovel and held out a hand. They shook on it. As they crossed the parking lot, Ethan’s phone rang. He glanced at the LCD display.

      “Hey, peanut,” he said to his youngest cousin.

      “What’s up?”

      “Would you stop with that peanut stuff?” He grinned when he heard her effort to muffle her response—she wasn’t alone. “No one’s going to listen to me if they hear you.”

      “What? You want me to call you Officer Lowe? Dunno if I can do that, kiddo.”

      “Well, you’re going to have to.” Her voice turned crisp, official. “I need your help. I’m out on a call, and it sounds like your specialty to me.”

      The disgust that had hovered in the back of his mind since the last drug bust he’d worked rushed to the fore-front. His muscles tensed, his stomach turned and his head began to pound. “Maggie…”

      “I know, I know. You left all that behind when you moved here, but Ethan, it’s a death. We’re a small-town department. We don’t have much experience with stuff like this. You, though…all those years—I need you.”

      Ethan ran a hand over his face. He loved his youngest cousin like the sister he’d never had. They’d grown up close, living only two blocks apart. Over the years, he’d defended her against a bully, taught her to drive and convinced his aunt and uncle to let her go into law enforcement in spite of the danger.

      He’d never been able to refuse her anything, but this came close.

      Even though every fiber of his being screamed no, he said, “Where are you?”

      Her sigh of relief told him she hadn’t been as sure of his response as she probably should have been. “Come out west on Ratner Road. You can’t miss the cruisers and the ambulance. We’re in the woods, not fifty feet in.”

      Ethan slipped his phone into his pocket, fighting the urge to call her back and tell her no. It took all his determination to move toward his SUV.

      Art placed an arm over Ethan’s shoulders. “A call from Maggie that does this to you means bad news.”

      Ethan chuckled without humor. “My past doesn’t seem ready to let me go. She’s on a call, a woman’s dead and she thinks it’s drug related.”

      “It’ll be hard,” Art said, his voice compassionate,

      “but look at it from God’s perspective. He had you trained, He had you gain a wealth of experience and knowledge and our Lord doesn’t let things go to waste. I doubt He’s done with that training of yours.”

      “Yeah, but I came to Loganton to get away from it all.” Ethan pulled away to pace. “I had enough—more than enough. The sixteen-year-old who took his last breath in my arms did it. I can’t go back to that.”

      Pain, nausea and a sense of failure filled him. “You can’t imagine what you find when you make a bust. The wasted lives, little kids who watch mom and dad doing drugs…kids who’ll live with those scars for the rest of their lives.” He shuddered. “And no matter how hard you try to fight the good fight, there are more drugs on the street every day. I can’t handle—”

      “But God can. I know how rough the last year has been for you. I know you still struggle with the memories and the nightmares, but God is greater than all that. He’ll see you through even the worst moments—if you let Him.”

      The battle raging in Ethan was one he’d thought he’d packed away in the cobwebs of his subconscious. Evidently, he hadn’t done that good a job.