Read Online The Buck Stops Here by Mindy Starns Clark - Free Book Online
Authors: Mindy Starns Clark
Ads: Link
an old hymn, and with my eyes still closed I sang it softly, my voice echoing on the water.
Our broken hearts have left us sad and lonely,
but Jesus comes to dwell Himself within.
Opening my eyes, I stood up and held out my hands, knowing there was no one around to see or hear as I sang the chorus in an act of worship.
When Jesus comes the tempter’s power is broken.
When Jesus comes the tears are washed away.
He takes the gloom and fills the life with glory.
For all is changed when Jesus comes to stay.
“Amen,” I whispered. Then, wiping away my tears, I turned around and walked back to my car.
I drove out of the campground as slowly as I had driven into it, catching one last glimpse of the river as I steered through the trees. Back at the highway, I turned right, heading toward Riverside. In my heart I was determined to learn the truths I needed to know.
When I got back to town, I went in search of a library, certain they would have archives for the local newspapers. Fortunately, there was a good-sized facility downtown, and I parked and went inside, preparing my heart for the brutal truths I was about to encounter.
The library hadn’t put their collections online, but shortly I unearthed a whole week’s worth of stories on microfilm. The first headline was on the front page and said “Tourist Dies in Boating Accident on Appomattox River.” The article was fairly concise, the word “tragic” jumping out from the page in several places. Yes, it was tragic. The photo that was front and center was a distant shot of the water, with an ambulance parked beside it and several paramedics pushing Bryan’s lifeless, blanketed body inside. There were several smaller photos also, including one black-and-white shot of me as the “victim’s wife,” standing on the shore, my bathing suit and shorts covered in what I realized now was blood. I stared at the picture for a long time, at the dazed expression on my face, at the dark stains that marked my clothes, my hands, my legs. I had a sudden memory of Michael making me go in the water to rinse off. At the time I had been so out of it that I hadn’t even understood what he meant. Now I knew.
The article concluded with a paragraph about Sparks:
The driver of the speedboat was arrested less than a mile from the scene when he stopped at the Docksider Grill, allegedly unaware that he had struck Webber in the water. The suspect, as yet unnamed, was taken into custody and is being held without bail.
Feeling oddly detached from the stories in front of me, I went to the next day’s paper, which also had an article on the front page, this time with a photo of the speedboat being impounded by the police as evidence. “Speedboat Killer Tests Positive for Intoxicants” claimed the headline, though the paper didn’t say whether those intoxicants were drugs or alcohol or both. There also wasn’t any information about where he had been staying in the area, though it was clear he had been the only person on board the boat at the time. A local resident, Harry Stickles, had witnessed the accident from his own motorboat and had pursued the speedboat to the Docksider Grill.
“That fellow had no idea what he done,” Stickles was quoted as saying. “When we caught him at the dock, he was absolutely shocked.”
I didn’t know until reading the article that Sparks had been taken under citizen’s arrest until the police could get there. A photo at the bottom of the page showed him being carted off in handcuffs by an policeman identified as Officer Darnell Robinson. Strangely, I felt a wave a pity for Sparks, who thought he’d been out for a little boat ride, only to learn he had just committed a hit-and-run.
My pity didn’t last long. In the next day’s paper, the test results had been released: The driver’s name was James Sparks, and his blood alcohol level was listed as 1.2, way beyond the legal limit for any kind of driving. His mug shot was featured prominently, next to
Our broken hearts have left us sad and lonely,
but Jesus comes to dwell Himself within.
Opening my eyes, I stood up and held out my hands, knowing there was no one around to see or hear as I sang the chorus in an act of worship.
When Jesus comes the tempter’s power is broken.
When Jesus comes the tears are washed away.
He takes the gloom and fills the life with glory.
For all is changed when Jesus comes to stay.
“Amen,” I whispered. Then, wiping away my tears, I turned around and walked back to my car.
I drove out of the campground as slowly as I had driven into it, catching one last glimpse of the river as I steered through the trees. Back at the highway, I turned right, heading toward Riverside. In my heart I was determined to learn the truths I needed to know.
When I got back to town, I went in search of a library, certain they would have archives for the local newspapers. Fortunately, there was a good-sized facility downtown, and I parked and went inside, preparing my heart for the brutal truths I was about to encounter.
The library hadn’t put their collections online, but shortly I unearthed a whole week’s worth of stories on microfilm. The first headline was on the front page and said “Tourist Dies in Boating Accident on Appomattox River.” The article was fairly concise, the word “tragic” jumping out from the page in several places. Yes, it was tragic. The photo that was front and center was a distant shot of the water, with an ambulance parked beside it and several paramedics pushing Bryan’s lifeless, blanketed body inside. There were several smaller photos also, including one black-and-white shot of me as the “victim’s wife,” standing on the shore, my bathing suit and shorts covered in what I realized now was blood. I stared at the picture for a long time, at the dazed expression on my face, at the dark stains that marked my clothes, my hands, my legs. I had a sudden memory of Michael making me go in the water to rinse off. At the time I had been so out of it that I hadn’t even understood what he meant. Now I knew.
The article concluded with a paragraph about Sparks:
The driver of the speedboat was arrested less than a mile from the scene when he stopped at the Docksider Grill, allegedly unaware that he had struck Webber in the water. The suspect, as yet unnamed, was taken into custody and is being held without bail.
Feeling oddly detached from the stories in front of me, I went to the next day’s paper, which also had an article on the front page, this time with a photo of the speedboat being impounded by the police as evidence. “Speedboat Killer Tests Positive for Intoxicants” claimed the headline, though the paper didn’t say whether those intoxicants were drugs or alcohol or both. There also wasn’t any information about where he had been staying in the area, though it was clear he had been the only person on board the boat at the time. A local resident, Harry Stickles, had witnessed the accident from his own motorboat and had pursued the speedboat to the Docksider Grill.
“That fellow had no idea what he done,” Stickles was quoted as saying. “When we caught him at the dock, he was absolutely shocked.”
I didn’t know until reading the article that Sparks had been taken under citizen’s arrest until the police could get there. A photo at the bottom of the page showed him being carted off in handcuffs by an policeman identified as Officer Darnell Robinson. Strangely, I felt a wave a pity for Sparks, who thought he’d been out for a little boat ride, only to learn he had just committed a hit-and-run.
My pity didn’t last long. In the next day’s paper, the test results had been released: The driver’s name was James Sparks, and his blood alcohol level was listed as 1.2, way beyond the legal limit for any kind of driving. His mug shot was featured prominently, next to
Similar Books
