Trial by Fire Read Free Page A

couldn’t remember if the caller was a man or a woman, or whether it had been someone she knew. All she remembered were the words, hitting her like a cruel blast of evil.
    She heard a siren and saw an ambulance heading the opposite direction, and her mother’s heart almost made her turn around and follow. But something told her that wasn’t Ben.
    Maybe it was the voice on the phone, the finality of the tone, the very words they had chosen… It’s too late, isn’t it, Lord? Don’t let it be too late.
    Her brown hands trembled as she punched on the scanner that Ray kept in the car. She tried to tune to the police frequency for information, but all she got was static.
    She ran another red light, then peeled around a corner. The church came into view and she saw the flames that had devoured it, saw the firefighters still spraying it, saw the emergency vehicles parked in haphazard fashion wherever they had found a place on the street.
    Paying no regard to the yellow tape blocking off the road, she drove right through it and came to a halt in front of the pumper truck.
    She threw the door open and bolted out of the car. Another ambulance was parked at the curb, but there was no light flashing and no siren blaring. The paramedics were not hurrying.
    She looked around for someone who could help her, then screamed, “Ray!”
    Mark surrendered the hose to another firefighter, then jogged to be at her side. She didn’t like the look on his face. “Susan…”
    â€œWhere’s Ray?” she demanded, unable to ask where her son was. She didn’t want to know yet, didn’t want to hear the words. Somewhere in the pit of her stomach, she already knew.
    â€œHe’s in the ambulance,” he said, “with Ben.”
    Something about the way he said that gave her hope. She turned and ran to the ambulance, tried to get the door open. When she couldn’t, she just banged on it, screaming, “Ray! Ray, let me in!”
    The door came open, and she looked up and saw her husband slumped inside.
    And next to him she saw a body with a sheet over it.
    Her head was suddenly cloudy, her vision blurred, and she collapsed onto the asphalt. Ray leaped out of the rescue unit and gathered her back up.
    â€œMy baby.” Her words, couched in pain and brokenness, were barely audible.
    â€œHe’s gone,” Ray said. “Shhh. He’s gone.” His voice was hoarse, high pitched, and she could feel the pain coursing through him as he held her.
    â€œWhat was he doin’ here?” she asked through her teeth.
    â€œNobody knows.”
    Not satisfied with that answer, Susan pulled out of Ray’s arms, straightened with determination, and climbed into the rescue unit. She went to the body, grabbed the sheet and pulled it back, saw his face and his charred arms, the hair singed on his scalp…
    Then she saw the hole through his forehead. Another anguished scream ripped out of her. “He was shot! Ray, he was shot!”
    Ray nodded, but couldn’t manage to speak a word.
    â€œWho shot him?” she screamed. “Who shot my baby?”
    He tried to guide her away from the body. She wailed in rage and despair, as if her very cries could bring him back from the dead.
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    O utside the ambulance, Mark and the other firefighters began to realize the hopelessness of the situation. Already, most of the building had been consumed, and it was obvious that nothing was going to be salvageable. The roof had continued to cave in, little by little, and now some of the walls were beginning to crumble. Whoever was responsible for this had done a thorough job.
    Mark ran to the truck to switch air tanks. Dan was already there doing the same.
    â€œIt’s gone, man,” he said. “The church is history.”
    Mark shook his head and stared back at it. “I can’t believe it. In the blink of an eye it’s totally gone.”
    He didn’t have the