Season for Grace

Twenty-three years later, Oklahoma City Sweat burned his eyes, but Collin Grace didn't move. He couldn't. One wrong flinch and somebody died. Totally focused on the life-and-death scenario playing out on the ground below, he hardly noticed the sun scalding the back of his neck or the sweat soaking through his protective vest. The Tac-team leader's voice came through the earphone inside his Fritz helmet. "Hostage freed. Suspect in custody. Get down here for debrief." Collin relaxed and lowered the .308 caliber marksman rifle, a SWAT sniper's best friend, and rose from his prone position on top of the River Street Savings and Loan. Below him, the rest of the team exited a training house and headed toward Sergeant Gerrara. Frequent training was essential and Collin welcomed every drill. Theirs wasn't a full-time SWAT unit, so they had to stay sharp for those times when the callout would come and they'd have to act. Normally a patrol cop, he'd spent all morning on the firing range, requalifying with every weapon known to mankind. He was good. Real good, with the steadiest hands anyone on the force had ever seen. A fact that made him proud. "You headed for the gym after this?" His buddy, fellow police officer and teammate, Maurice Johnson shared his propensity for exercise. Stay in shape, stay alive. Most special tactics cops agreed. Collin peeled his helmet off and swiped a hand over his sweating brow. "Yeah. You?" "For a few reps. I told Shanita I'd be home early. Bible study at our place tonight." Maurice sliced a sneaky grin in Collin's direction. Sweat dripped from his high ebony cheeks and rolled down a neck the size of a linebacker's. "Wanna come?" Collin returned the grin with a shake of his head. Maurice wouldn't give up. He extended the same invitation every Thursday. Collin liked Maurice and his family, but he couldn't see a loner like himself spouting Bible verses and singing in a choir. It puzzled him, too, that a cop as tough and smart as Maurice would feel the need for God. To Collin's way of thinking there was only one person he trusted enough to lean on. And that was himself. "Phone call for you, Grace," Sergeant Gerrara hollered. "Probably some cutie after your money." The other cops hooted as Collin shot Maurice an exasperated look and took off in a trot. He received plenty of teasing about his single status. Some of the guys tried to fix him up, but when a woman started pushing him or trying to get inside his head, she was history. He didn't need the grief. The heavy tactics gear rattled and bounced against his body as he grabbed the cell phone from Sergeant Gerrara's over-size fist, trading it for his rifle. "Grace." "Sergeant Collin Grace?" A feminine voice, light and sweet, hummed against his ear. "Yeah." He shoved his helmet under one arm and stepped away from the gaggle of cops who listened in unabashedly. "Who's this?" "Mia Carano. I'm with the Cleveland County Department of Child Welfare." A cord of tension stretched through Collin's chest. Adrenaline, just now receding from the training scenario, ratcheted up a notch. Child welfare, a department he both loathed and longed to hear from. Could it finally be news? He struggled to keep his voice cool and detached. "Is this about my brothers?" "Your brothers?" Envisioning her puzzled frown, Collin realized she had no idea he'd spent years trying to find Ian and Drew. The spurt of energy drained out of him. "Never mind. What can I do for you, Ms. Carano?" "Do you recall the young boy you picked up last week behind the pawn shop?" "The runaway?" He could still picture the kid. "Angry, scared, but too proud to admit it?" "Yes. Mitchell Perez. He's eleven. Going on thirty." The kid hadn't looked a day over nine. Skinny. Black hair too long and hanging in his eyes. A pack of cigaretGoodnight, Linda is the author of 'Season for Grace', published 2006 under ISBN 9780373874118 and ISBN 0373874111.