Lane laughed as she told Mick about Jess, who growing up thought she was the boss of and protector for the family.  It made for one difficult yet hilarious situation after another.  She related a story about the rainy day when Jake, who was six, was riding a tricycle through the house with Jess, who was two standing on the rear axle behind him.  It was great fun.  They rode from one end of the house to the other.  Round and round in circles from the living room through the dining room and into the kitchen.  After about the twentieth lap, she’d had enough and told them to stop.  Kids being kids, they didn’t.  Lane had stepped in front of the tricycle, grabbed the handlebars, and firmly said, “I told you to stop.”  Jess had gotten off the tricycle, put her little fists on her little hips, stood toe to toe with Lane, looked up, and said, “You can’t talk to my brother like that.”  Lane had kept her composure long enough to reply, “I’m the Mom and yes, I can.” Then she had quickly gone to her bedroom, closed the door, buried her face in a pillow, and laughed.   The waitress delivered their pie, lemon meringue for Lane, strawberry for Mick, just as Lane finished the story.

Mick couldn’t remember when he’d laughed so much.  The waitress brought the check, and Lane let Mick pay it.  It wasn’t until they were in Mick’s SUV and heading toward Lane’s house when Lane noticed the time.  It was nearing one o’clock.   They continued chatting on the short ride to Lane’s house.  Mick parked in the driveway.  Lane entered the code and the garage door opened.  They walked through the house stopping first in the den, and then headed toward the bedroom.

“So, do you wear contacts most of the time,” Lane said, as she remembered that Mick had worn glasses the first time they met.

Mick turned and looked at Lane.  “Yeah, most of the time.  Why do you ask?”

“I just remembered you had on glasses the first time we met.”

”Saturday had been a long week,” He said crawling on the floor lifting the bed skirt. There was no wall-to-wall carpeting in Lane’s house.  She was a hard wood floor and Oriental rug gal.

“Do you have a flashlight?”

Lane walked to the nightstand on the side of the bed she still referred to as her side even though she slept alone, opened the top drawer, and retrieved a flashlight.  Moments like this one made her glad she’d earned the nickname Felix.  She had no doubt the only thing Mick might find under the bed was his sunglasses.  She knew there were no dust bunnies under there because in her stress induced cleaning frenzy Sunday, she’d cleaned thoroughly under the bed.  Mick took the flashlight, shone it under the bed, and flattened himself to the floor as he reached under the bed as far as he could.

“I can’t reach.  Do you have a broom or something?”

Lane thought, how does that old wives’ tale go, your arm span is equal to your height?  The guy was six feet four inches tall, which meant his reach had to be nearly three feet. The width of a Queen Size bed was about 82 inches.  Lane was doing the math in her head as she walked to the kitchen broom closet and tried to figure out how his sunglasses could have worked their way to a spot under the bed that was unreachable for him.  She brought the broom back to the bedroom and handed it to Mick.  He bent down and swept under the bed.  Out came a pair of sunglasses and a screwdriver.

“What’s that?”  Lane said as she reached to pick it up.

Mick grabbed her hand.  “Don’t touch it.”  He pulled a pair of rubber gloves from his pocket.  Who besides a homicide detective or a pervert carried rubber gloves in their pockets?

“Have you got a plastic zip lock bag?”  Lane didn’t move.  Mick gave her a nudge.  “Go, get me a bag, and call Ben.  Tell him to meet us at the station.”

Chapter 5

A free tour of the police department

Lane handed Mick the bag as she dialed the phone.

“Red, I just got out of court.”

“Ben, thank God I reached you.”

“What’s up?  We’re still on for dinner, aren’t we?”

She started sobbing.  “That depends on whether I’m free to have dinner.  How soon can you meet me at the Leawood police station?”

Mick came up behind Lane and took the phone from her hand.  “I’ve got to take her in now,” he said, “Just get there fast.”  He hung up and took Lane by the arm.

She glanced at the clock.  One-fifteen.  “I’ve got to call Meg and have her cancel my 1:30.  I can do it from my cell in the car.  Okay?”

Mick nodded as they walked through the house.  “Lane, make it quick, and don’t tell her anything else.”

Lane dialed the phone. Meg answered on the first ring.  “Lane, glad you called.  Craig just called to move your 1:30 to tomorrow.”

“Meg, that’s great.  Listen I’m going to be out for the rest of the afternoon.  I’m in a hurry and can’t talk right now, I’ll check in later.”

Lane broke the connection and turned to Mick.  “Quick enough for you,” she said sharply.

“Lane, I know you’re upset.  I don’t blame you. You’re not under arrest.  I’m just taking you in for questioning.  Please, do us both a favor and don’t say anything else until Ben gets here.”

He knew he was bending the rules for her, and he’d been a cop long enough to know it wasn’t smart.  Yet, for some reason he couldn’t help himself.

Mick led Lane into the station.  He sat her at his desk, leaned down and whispered in her ear.  “Remember, not a word to anyone about anything until Ben gets here.”

He stood up.  “I’ll be right back,” he said as he went into an office.

Lane put her elbows on Mick’s desk, leaned forward, put her forehead into her hands, closed her eyes, and began to pray silently.

“…For I know the plans I have for you says the Lord, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future…” (Jeremiah 29:11) “For He will command his angels concerning you to guard you in all your ways.”(Psalm 91:11) “God’s voice thunders in marvelous ways; He does great things beyond our understanding” (Job 37:5) “And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to His purpose.”  (Romans 8:28)

“Lord, I know you’re in charge, not just of this, but of all situations.  I know you have a purpose in everything.  Help me to put my faith and trust in you.  And, Lord, please help me to keep my mouth shut until my lawyer gets here.  In Jesus Name, I pray.  Amen.”

Lane felt a hand on her shoulder and opened her eyes.

“Ben just checked in. Let’s go into an interview room.  I’ll let you talk to Ben alone and then I’ll be in,” Mick said as he led Lane down a hall and into a small room.

Lane looked around.  She’d expected something like the interview room on Law and Order.  This room was slightly nicer.  It was a creamy tone she’d come to think of as Johnson County beige.  It had a wooden table and chairs instead of steel.  Not unlike an ordinary conference room albeit smaller.  Mick motioned to a chair and Lane sat down.

The door opened and Ben walked in.  He put his briefcase on the table and put his arms around Lane who had stood up and practically run to him.  “Are you all right, Red,” he whispered into her ear.

“I’m okay.  Glad you’re here,” she whispered back.

Mick coughed into his hand and said, “I’ll give you a few minutes to talk to your client, counselor,” as he closed the door.

Mick hated that he had to bring Lane into the station.  But, he couldn’t ignore that the screwdriver not only looked like it had blood on it, but it was the size and shape of the murder weapon.  Mick hadn’t known Lane very long, but he prided himself on his ability to size people up quickly.  He’d bet his badge and retirement that Lane hadn’t killed anyone.  Not that she was incapable of inflicting pain he mused.  He was sure that anyone who posed a threat to one of her three children would indeed have to answer to her and that the perpetrator would no doubt wish for death from the tongue-lashing alone.  But, a severe tongue-lashing was a far cry from murder. And, Mick suspected that a tongue-lashing was the most vicious thing Lane would hand out.