Waking Lazarus (33 page)

Rachel jumped in. ‘‘Frank invited us over last night. You should see in his basement—it’s filled with these incredible wood carvings, thousands of them. Must have taken him years.’’

Jude smiled. Frank’s beloved work.

‘‘About ready to go?’’ Rachel asked.

‘‘Sure, sure. Just getting dressed, making myself presentable, you know.’’

‘‘You up to having a few more visitors first?’’

Jude narrowed his eyes as he looked at her. ‘‘Like who?’’

Rachel walked back to the door of the room and motioned to someone out in the hall. A few moments later, Tiffany tentatively appeared in the doorway, holding Joey’s hand. Tiffany whispered something into Joey’s ear, and Joey walked across the room toward Jude. Joey had managed to put on some weight and already looked healthier.

‘‘Thank you,’’ he said to Jude in a faint, almost impossible-to-hear voice.

Jude felt tears streaming from his eyes as he hugged Joey. He pulled in Nathan for a hug, motioning for Tiffany to come over as well.

Rachel came to them, put her hand on Tiffany’s back. ‘‘Um,
he
went under the radar for a few days,’’ she said, obliquely referring to Sohler. ‘‘But it sounds like the police have picked up his trail in Minnesota. Anyway, the kids have been staying with us, and so has Bradley. One big, happy family.’’

‘‘A big, happy family. I like the sound of that,’’ Jude said, and smiled.

Rachel returned the smile, then changed the subject. ‘‘It’s nuts out there,’’ she said, motioning her head toward the door.

‘‘I’m sure it is.’’

‘‘You’re the biggest thing to hit Montana since the Unabomber, judging from the size of the crowd.’’

Jude nodded, then stood up.

‘‘There’s just one more thing I’ve been wanting to ask you,’’ Rachel said.

‘‘Shoot.’’

‘‘Did you . . . see anything?’’

Jude knew what she was asking. A question he had once hated, because the only answer he had for it was a lie. But not now. ‘‘Yes,’’ he said, the sweet, honeyed taste still on his lips.

‘‘And?’’

‘‘And I have some work to do.’’ He paused. ‘‘Some messages to deliver, you might say.’’

The corridor was usually empty, filled only with the reverberations of echoes and the shadows of footsteps. But even now, as Jude, Rachel, Nathan, Tiffany, and Joey walked down the corridor, Jude heard more than their footsteps: he heard the sounds of a large crowd, murmuring, clamoring, waiting for him outside in the hospital lobby.

They walked by a janitor mopping the floor. A woman. She was rather small, with chocolate eyes and light hazel skin. Maybe she was Indian. Or Hispanic. Or a light-skinned African American. Or a mix. Jude nodded to Kristina, and she nodded back.

A phalanx of police escorts waited, naturally, along with hundreds of other people, television equipment, cameras, and a thousand other details that blended into one giant sea of shape and color.

Jude smiled, looked at his family.
His
family. Then, he grasped the handles and pulled them, opening the doors and letting the sea of light and noise wash over him.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Writing a book is a solitary project, but any writer soon finds out its publication is a community effort. I’d like to thank some of this book’s community supporters:

My lovely wife (Nancy) and lovely daughter (Jillian): thanks for putting up with late nights and early mornings.

My immediate family (Mom, Dad, Shauna, Bob, Merle, Bob, Pam, Mike, David, Thomas) and extended family: thanks for the encouragement and enthusiasm.

My church family (Faith Chapel in Billings, Montana) and Friday Community Group: thanks for the support.

My network of friends and writers who offered input and advice at various stages of the journey (CJ Box, Justine Musk, James Beau-Seigneur, Eric Wilson, Robert Liparulo, Tim Mohr, Leslie Thomson, Brandilyn Collins, Kathryn Mackel, Melanie Wells, Creston Mapes, Chris Well, Tim Downs, members of the Zoetrope writing community, the Faith*in*Fiction online community, the RMFW Alpha Critique Group, and all my Volunteer Publicists): thanks for the inspiration.

My iPod and its playlists (especially the music of Better Than Ezra, the Pixies, Wilco, Foo Fighters, Hillsong, David Crowder Band, and Rich Mullins): thanks for the soundtrack.

My publishing team (everyone at Bethany House): thanks for making it all happen.

My editor, Dave Long: an extra-special thanks for discovering the manuscript and bringing it to life (ha, ha). Without you, it would still be a four hundred-page doorstop.

My God: thanks for always being a part of my life, even before I knew you.

And finally to you, my reader: thanks for being the most important part of the publishing process.

AUTHOR’S NOTE

Although Red Lodge, Montana, exists, the version that appears in this book is somewhat different from its real-life counterpart: I’ve taken liberties with geography, added nonexistent businesses and landmarks, and just plain made up details to suit the needs of the story. I hope the good people of Red Lodge will forgive me. The town of Bingham, Nebraska, Jude’s hometown, is entirely fictional.

Finally, if you enjoyed this book, explore more of the Other Side at
www.tlhines.com
. Sign up as a Volunteer Publicist to get
Lazarus
Expanded
, a free companion e-book with deleted scenes and extras, or win prizes such as a share of royalties and a role in my next novel.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Montana-based T.L. Hines’s list of past jobs includes trimming Christmas trees, sorting seed potatoes, working the graveyard shift at a convenience store, and cleaning cadaver storage rooms. A graduate of the University of Montana (BA, English Lit), he has spent the last sixteen years as a copywriter and advertising agency owner/manager. He has also won three air-guitar contests in which he performed songs by ZZ Top. Contact him at
www.tlhines.com
.

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