The Only Solution (Crowley County Series Book 3) Read online

  The Only Solution

  T. E. Killian

  Christ Centered Ministries

  Cottonwood, Arizona

  Copyright © 2014 by Trennis E. Killian

  Cover Design: Kailee J. Jodarski

  Novels by T. E. Killian

  The Sycamore P.D. Series

  Lost Memories

  Accepted Memories

  Resolved Memories

  The Crowley County Series

  No Easy Solution

  A Better Solution

  The Only Solution

  Another Solution

  The Clear Creek Series

  Ryan’s Ruin

  Chase’s Return

  Hunter’s Revenge

  Walking Together Series

  Walking Straight

  Walking Away

  Walking the Line

  www.tekillian.com.

  Another uplifting Christian novel series from the author of the Sycamore P.D. Series.

  Crowley County Series

  Join the people of Crowleyville as they face the challenges of small town life while struggling to welcome an influx of newcomers.

  The Only Solution – Third in the Series

  Mike Bates, former DEA agent, is now confined to a wheelchair thanks to a bullet lodged near his spine. Six months later, does he still have enough determination left to fight to walk again?

  Daisy Thomas is still reeling from tragedy in her life from three years ago. Can she let go of the past and look forward to the future for her four-year-old daughter’s sake?

  When outside forces threaten them, they must help each other in ways neither one would ever have dreamed.

  Can two suffering people come together to help each other heal?

  Chapter One

  Mike Bates called out in his sleep, “Drop the gun Hennesey!” Then the loud sounds of two handguns firing multiple times woke him up as it always did.

  He sat up in bed and pushed his too long brown hair out of his eyes. It was the same dream every time. As he looked around his bedroom . . . for the hundredth time, the thought hit him that it was a good thing he didn’t have a wife to wake up every time he had that dream.

  He turned his upper body, leaned over to reach both armrests of his wheelchair, and pulled his body painfully into it. Once he settled himself in the chair, he waited a moment for the pain in his back to lessen. Once it did, he wheeled into the bathroom to repeat the procedure there.

  He finally wheeled himself into the kitchen and managed to pour himself a cup of coffee from the coffeemaker that the weekend girl had programmed yesterday before she left.

  He hated Mondays. Mondays were his worst days. He always felt so grubby on Mondays. But he wasn’t even going to think about the fact that it may be all his fault.

  He wheeled his chair up to the gap at the table, leaned his elbows on it, and sat there sipping his coffee and thinking.

  What would his life be like right now if not for that bullet that was lodged against his spine? What would he be doing right now if he hadn’t been in the wrong place at the wrong time?

  He knew very well what he would be doing. He had been up for a transfer to somewhere in South America, that’s what. It probably would have been Colombia too and that would have been a fantastic assignment. But now he’d never get an assignment like that.

  He looked up at the clock on the wall, only seven o’clock. Randy wouldn’t be in for another hour. He felt the need to be clean, especially his hair. But why bother? He hadn’t really felt clean or normal in any other way since that night six months ago. Nothing had felt right since that night, especially his back. Nothing would ever be right again because of that night.

  He spent the next half hour with black thoughts such as those chasing each other around in his mind. Just as he began to sink into the pit of despair that he spent much of his time in now, the doorbell rang. Who could that be? It was still too early for Randy. Well, he’d just get rid of whoever it was. He didn’t want to talk to anybody.

  The peephole was too high for Mike, but there was a long narrow window to the side of the door and when he pulled the curtain back, he could see a big man in a tan uniform standing there with his back to the door. The dark red hair showing under his cowboy type hat confirmed to Mike who he was.

  Mike didn’t want to talk to that pushy, bothersome sheriff right now. In fact, he didn’t really want to talk to anybody now . . . or later.

  Mike knew that the man wouldn’t go away until he let him in. So he reluctantly opened the door and rolled backward so the huge man could enter.

  When Floyd closed the door and turned around to face Mike, he whistled and slapped his right hand against his thigh. “Man you look like you just crawled out of a garbage can. And look at that hair. It’s hiding your ears and falling down into your eyes.” He snorted. “I thought that guy Randy took better care of you than this.”

  It was Mike’s turn to snort now. “He doesn’t come on weekends.”

  Before Floyd could reply, the doorbell rang again and he turned around to see who it was. “Looks like that’s him right now.”

  Floyd opened the door and let the slender young caregiver in.

  Randy took one look at Mike and said, “I knew it. It’s a good thing I came early today. I knew you would have gone without a bath over the weekend again.”

  Mike turned his chair and started wheeling it toward his bedroom but Randy caught up with him. He stopped the chair by grabbing the handgrips then turned it around to face him.

  “Why won’t you let Peggy Sue help you with your bath on the weekends?”

  Mike knew his voice had risen to where he was almost shouting now. “Because I’m not about to let that little teenybopper take my clothes off. That’s why.”

  Randy shook his head. “If it’s because she’s a female, so is Stella.”

  “No it’s not just that and you know it. But Stella’s my doctor and that makes a lot of difference.”

  When Randy didn’t say anything, Mike looked at Floyd who was still standing near the door grinning at him.

  “What are you grinning about McCracken? You wouldn’t want that creepy little girl dressing and undressing you either. She must have ten pounds of metal in all those piercings not to mention all the tattoos too.”

  Floyd was laughing now, a big booming laugh that made Mike even madder than ever.

  “If all you’re going to do is stand there and laugh at me Sheriff, you can leave right now.”

  Floyd wiped the grin off his face and said, “Now, Mike, you know that I don’t mean anything by it. I’m your friend, remember? And I might add one of the few you haven’t chased off yet.”

  Mike shook his head, “Just because I saved your mangy hide when I took this bullet, doesn’t make us friends, McCracken.”

  Randy looked at Floyd and said, “Is that what happened?” He tilted his head toward Mike. “He’s never told me.”

  Floyd had to have noticed the angry look Mike directed at him. Instead, he gave Mike a defiant look and ignored him.

  “Yeah. Back in January, this escaped convict who had vowed to kill me when he got out kidnapped my daughter and lured me out into the woods where he had her.”

  He blew out a breath and Mike took that opportunity to say, “Shut up McCracken. If I wanted the whole world to know I’d of told them myself.”

  Floyd continued to ignore him just as Mike had known he would.

  “Well, you see, Hennesey, that was the escaped con’s name, had the drop on me and before he could pull the trigger, Mike here jumped out of the woods and they shot each other.”

  Randy still had a puzzl
ed look on his face. “But why? Was Mike one of your deputies?”

  Floyd shook his head. “Nope, he was a fed, a DEA agent.”

  Randy’s eyes grew huge and he just said, “Oh!” Then he turned to stare at Mike. “Wow!”

  Great! Mike knew he’d never hear the end of the questions from Randy now. “Thanks a lot McCracken.”

  This time when he wheeled toward his bedroom, Randy didn’t stop him but followed him through that room into the bathroom.

  Mike threw over his shoulder, “McCracken, you’d better not be here when I come out.”

  But he was, just as Mike had known he would be.

  As soon as Randy left, Mike wheeled his chair into the living room where Floyd was sitting on the sofa.

  “All right McCracken what did you want this time?”

  Floyd laughed and said, “Do you think you’re getting to know me that well Mike? Do I have to have a special reason for coming over here to see the man who saved my life?”

  Mike gritted his teeth and waited for it to come out. He knew Floyd had something to tell him. He would just have to wait for the big sheriff to get around to it.

  “Well, I just thought you might want to know that Hennesey died at the federal prison hospital in Springfield last night. They said that the brain tumor gave him an awful lot of pain all the way to the end.”

  Mike didn’t know what to think. His mind went blank, almost numb. What had he expected to feel when the man who had shot him died? What did he really feel about the man who’d put him in this chair?

  Floyd seemed to be waiting for a response so Mike said, “What did you expect? For me to celebrate? I don’t think so. Undoubtedly, the man deserved to die, maybe not for what he did to me but for the three murders that we were finally able to pin on him. But . . .”

  He looked Floyd in the eye. “I don’t really feel anything.”

  When Floyd continued to stare back at him, he blew out a breath and said, “It doesn’t change anything.” He slapped the armrests with both hands. “I’m still in this thing and probably always will be.”

  Floyd kept looking at him for a long time before he rose and spoke very softly, “I wish it’d been me instead of you.”

  With that, he quietly let himself out the door leaving Mike floundering in his own mixed emotions.

  * * *

  Daisy Thomas liked Mondays, she always had. She never could understand why so many people always groaned and complained about them. She loved starting the new week off fresh after a relaxing weekend and a meaningful worship service the day before.

  She looked around the rec room at all of her family. After all, she truly thought of them that way. The six residents of the home she ran were so much like her own children even though most of the special needs adults here were close to her age and a couple were even older. Then of course, right next to her was her own four-year-old angel, Lucy. Her little Lucy with long light brown hair just like her mother’s only shinier and thicker.

  They were all watching Bert and Bobby playing ping-pong. Lucy was constantly giggling at their antics as they hit or more often missed the ball.

  Daisy marveled, as she often did, how the two boys, really men in their late twenties, could play a game such as that without the need to keep score or ever getting upset with each other. They were such sweethearts.

  On the other hand, her four girls or women were just a little moody at times. They were sweethearts too, in their own ways, just not always as cheerful as the boys were.

  As she often did, Daisy stopped right then and said a little prayer for each of her seven charges. She was so thankful for all of them.

  Just as she finished her silent prayer, Bert and Bobby both laid their paddles down and came over to the sitting area where the rest were all sitting on the various sofas and armchairs.

  Bert sat on the sofa where Daisy and Lucy were sitting. He leaned forward to look past Lucy, which he really didn’t need to do since he was several inches over six feet tall.

  Daisy waited, knowing that he had something on his mind and there was no way to get it out of him until he worked it out.

  He grinned, scratched his head, and then placed his hands on his knees. Finally, he said, “I miss Mister Mike.”

  She knew there was more coming from the way he was still grinning at her.

  “Could I go see Mister Mike, Miz Daisy? Do you think I could?”

  Daisy smiled at Bert and thought of how he’d helped Mike when Mike had been an undercover DEA agent. Everyone had thought that Mike was just a history teacher at the high school. Bert, in his innocence, had overheard a conversation between two men, which had led Mike to discover who the new head of the drug ring in the county was.

  Of course, that was all before Mike had been shot and become a paraplegic. She knew that Bert idolized two men in town Mike and the sheriff. So she decided that even if Mike hadn’t invited them, they would still go pay him a visit. She had heard that he wasn’t very receptive to visitors lately especially unannounced ones. But surely he wouldn’t turn Bert away, would he?

  “Okay Bert. Let’s go.”

  She wasn’t sure which one was more excited Bert or Lucy. Her daughter didn’t really know Mike. She just seemed to want to be around men lately. Daisy had been so surprised at how well she had taken to her uncle, Daisy’s older brother, when he had visited recently.

  Even though Lucy didn’t realize it, her little girl sure missed having a father around. Daisy shook her head to keep it off any more of those depressing thoughts. She couldn’t go there especially now. She had to be upbeat for Lucy and Bert too.

  They all three piled into Daisy’s five year old subcompact and headed over to Mike’s house. Lucy kept up a steady chatter all the way over. She had her baby doll with her and carried on an intense sounding conversation with her.

  When Daisy turned the car into Mike’s driveway, the sheriff was backing out and he stopped next to her. When he rolled his window, she rolled hers down too.

  He called out, “I hope you three have better luck with him than I did.”

  Daisy didn’t know what to think. She didn’t really know the big sheriff very well. He seemed to have a serious look on his face though.

  “What do you mean Sheriff?”

  He laughed and said, “Daisy, you’ve lived here several years. Don’t you think you could call me Floyd by now?”

  “I guess so.”

  He laughed again but sobered quickly. “He’s not in a very good mood this morning. I think he had one of his nightmares again last night. It’s one where he relives the shooting.”

  Her spirits took a nosedive but Floyd laughed and said, “Go on in anyway. Maybe you three will be more successful than I ever could be. I know he likes Bert.”

  “Hey Mister Sheriff.”

  “Hey Bert.” He smiled and continued. “Just be careful especially with your little one with you.”

  He motioned to Lucy who was strapped into her car seat in the back still chattering to her doll.

  When the three of them were standing at the door, Daisy hesitantly reached up and rang the doorbell. She didn’t know what to expect especially after what the sheriff . . . Floyd, had just told her.

  There was no sound from the other side of the door and she was about to ring the doorbell again when she heard a muffled shout.

  “Go away. I don’t want to see anyone.”

  She wasn’t sure what to say but opened her mouth to say something when Bert said, “Hey Mr. Mike it’s me Bert. I’ve come to see you.”

  No answer. Daisy didn’t know what to do now. The August heat combined with high humidity was becoming almost unbearable especially exposed to the sun the way they were.

  Finally, after what seemed like a long time she heard the deadbolt slide and the door opened a few inches then nothing. Now what should she do?

  Taking a chance, she reached out and gave the door a gentle push. It opened all the way to reveal Mike sitting in his wheelchair about five fe
et away with his back to the door.

  This certainly wasn’t starting out the way she’d planned it. She looked at Bert who was giving her a puzzled look with his head hanging to one side.

  She nodded her head toward Mike and Bert grinned and nodded his head emphatically. Then he walked around the wheelchair, stopped in front of Mike and grinned down at him.

  Daisy held her breath but finally had to let it out slowly as nothing happened for a full minute. Bert just stood there grinning down at Mike but she couldn’t see what kind of reaction he was getting in return if any.

  Daisy couldn’t help but notice how long and shaggy Mike’s hair was. Having been a federal agent and also a teacher in the high school, he’d always kept his hair short and nicely groomed. Now it was long and out of shape.

  Finally, Mike threw over his shoulder. “Might as well close the door and keep the hot air out.

  Daisy shut the door softly and turned back toward Mike. She was reminded that Lucy was with her when the little girl slipped her hand into her mother’s. She looked down and couldn’t imagine how her four-year-old would react to this little scene.

  “Mommy, is the man mad at us?”

  “No sweetheart, maybe he doesn’t feel so well.”

  That was when Mike turned his wheelchair around to face them. “I didn’t invite you here.”

  She knew that the sensible thing to do would be to grab her daughter and run as far away from that angry, bitter man as she could get. And she was about to do just that when she saw the look of despair, even hopelessness in Mike’s eyes.

  That glued her to the spot. She was a nurse. To her going into nursing had been a calling that God had given her. And she had always taken that calling seriously. She had sworn to heal and she suddenly realized that the man sitting in front of her glaring at her needed to heal. No! She wasn’t going anywhere. He would have to throw her out first.