Sounds like another good one!!!!!!!
I'l  be glad to get to read it....I never ever finished the second one....is
it still on your site and if so....how can Iget to it?
I really liked the first one.

Rhonda

-----Original Message-----
From: The Electronic Church [mailto:[log in to unmask]] On
Behalf Of Phil Scovell
Sent: Sunday, July 13, 2008 8:32 PM
To: [log in to unmask]
Subject: Portion of my third e-novel

I have finished my third Christian adventure e-novel but am proof reading it
now.  I edited the text and proof read the whole manuscript at least twice
before posting it on my website.  This is a section of the book that in no
way gives away the plot of the book but the other day, as I proof read it,
and I still noticed some changes I need to make and corrections I need to
make in this draft, it strongly seemed the Lord told me to post this section
to the list.  My desire is to make each book as real as life and the
solutions to what people experience, as Christian and Biblical as I can.
You'll have to read the whole book to see how things are resolved for Ron
who tried jumping from the building.  I trust to have the book done by the
end of this month.  It is free to read, as are my other Christian adventure
e-novels, of course, and the title of this book is, "The Place Of A Skull."

Phil.

     Jerry Hamilton had been a cop for 25 years.  He was 47 years
old, 5 foot 11, and a trim 165 pounds; almost skinny for his
build.  He worked out for an hour 5 days a week at the police gym
and ran 5 miles every Saturday, either at the gym if the weather
was bad, or on the outdoors track if the weather was good.  Three
of those 5 day work outs he lifted waits.  He could retire, of
course, in this 25th year but he didn't have anything in
particular he wanted to do so he'd stay on year by year until he
was ready.  That 30 years retirement package looked pretty
enticing so he'd likely shoot for that.  He was married, had 3
children, all mid to older teenagers, and his oldest would be
heading out to college in the fall.

     He was on a long code 7 and as he sat reading the morning
paper at the coffee shop where he almost always ate his lunch, he
sipped occasionally from his final cup of coffee.  He glanced at
his watch.  Ten minutes remained and nothing had come over his
handheld he had laying next to him, face up, in case any
important call came through as he ate.  His salad bowl was empty
and it had tasted good.  He didn't eat much meat any longer but a
good stake at a restaurant with his wife on the weekend, or a
good evening barbecued hamburger on the grill was always
rewarding and fulfilling.  He loved a good roast, too.

     Folding the paper up and pushing it aside, he pulled out his
electronic Bible and studied his Sunday school lesson he'd been
teaching in the youth class recent Sundaes.  He entered a couple
of new verses, dialed in the Greek meanings of a couple of words,
and hit save.  Pocketing the small device, he picked up his hat
and handheld unit and stuck it on his belt while turning up the
volume from habit.  Walking to the cash register, he thanked
Michelle for another good meal, paid his bill with cash, adding
his usual 30 percent gratuity, and just as he turned and slapped
his hat on his head, the radio squawked to life.  "Jumper from
the north side of the Franklin building.  Cars to cover?" the
dispatcher rapidly intoned.

     He snapped his handheld off his belt, depressing the Push To
Talk, (PTT), switch and reported in.  "Code 6," he announced as
he twisted around and began running down the hall; heading for
the speed elevator.  "I'm on the ground floor but will be on the
roof in just over 30 seconds," he half yelled into the radio as
he ran even faster.

     "Copy 34.  Other cars to cover?"

     As the cars reported in who would soon be on the scene,
Jerry darted around the corner and ran for the security door at
the end of the hall.  The security guard saw him coming on the
run and recognizing him, shoved open the door.  Jerry gathered
speed and reached the end of the secure area in less than 5
seconds.  He smashed the speed elevator button and the doors
retracted.  He jumped in and smashed the top floor button.  The
doors closed and his stomach dropped as the machine blasted off
as a rocket to the top floor.  The Franklin Building was a modern
construction that housed small to large downtown businesses,
including the mayor's office, that utilized the top 2 floors.  As
the 12 second express elevator accelerated rapidly up the 25
levels, the blinking digital floor numbers blurred.  Jerry's mind
flashed.  How did somebody get passed security and on to the
roof.   Since September 11, 2001, security was tight throughout
the 50 story office building and especially the mayor's floors.
He prayed silently that someone in the building security detail
hadn't been shot in order for a jumper to gain roof access.

     Jerry squeezed through the slowly opening elevator doors
sideways and immediately saw the security guard pointing down the
hall.  Jerry ran to the open door to the final flight of stairs
leading to the roof which the security guard had wisely left ajar
for him.  He took the steps 3 at a time and was at the open door
of the roof in less than 3 seconds.  The guards were all
instructed, in case of emergencies, not to leave their stations
so Jerry was alone as he reached the roof.

     He saw the man at the roof wall edge before he stepped out
on to the rooftop.  The man must have heard him and spun around.
Jerry noticed he was holding a small radio in his right hand; not
much different in appearance than Jerry's police handheld.  Jerry
recognized it for what it was instantly.  Jerry was a ham radio
operator himself and had just purchased the same handie talkie,
as hams called them, not more than a week ago.  Jerry hoped that
might give him some sort of an edge.  It didn't.

     "Don't come any closer," the man yelled.

     Jerry froze.  "I won't, son," realizing the man was a big
teenager.  He recognized him instantly from church.  It was the
Mayor's son, of all people, and his heart skipped a beat at the
recognition.  "Ronnie," he said loud enough to cover the 20 feet
that separated them, "what's going on, son?"  Ron Carpenter was
not only the mayor's son but was in Jerry's Sunday school class.
His blood suddenly ran cold.  He was too far way, much too far
way, to grab the kid if he decided to jump.

     "Stay away from me, Mr. Hamilton," he warned.

     Jerry recognized the panic gripping the boy's voice.

     "I'm only here to help, Ron.  You know that.  Besides, I'm
too far away.  If you want to jump, I can't stop you," but he
prayed silently under his breath the kid wouldn't do any such
thing."

     "I want to die," he moaned like a mortally wounded buffalo.

     "Why, Ron?" Jerry asked.  "I want to understand."  Jerry's
training kicked into high gear without him even realizing it.
He'd talked more jumpers down than anybody on the force and he,
in fact, was generally called in to negotiate since he had saved
at least a half a dozen lives in his career.

     "No one understands."

     ""Come on, Ron," he pleaded, "you, of all people, know that
isn't true.  Even if it were true, there is at least one person
who knows and understands."

     "I want to die," he screamed and dropping the radio from his
hand, he turned for the 3 foot retaining wall.

     Jerry had already started his move when he saw the boy's
fingers let go of the handheld radio but he knew he wasn't going
to make it.


     The big teenager did a 180 turn and literally dove, head
first, off the building.  Later, Jerry would admit he felt as if
he had been lifted and tossed, literally thrown, at the retaining
wall.  His eyes registered nothing but the boy's shoes as the
toes briefly snagged on the inner edge of the wall.  Jerry's
fingers closed like a steel trap around the thick ankle of the
large falling body.  The boy thrashed about and the most god
awful scream that Jerry had ever heard tore from the terrified
boy's throat.  The boy was dead weight hanging off the side of
the building, screaming and flailing; not to break free but to be
saved from falling.  The real Ron inside had changed his mind
about wanting to die.

     "Jesus!" was all the came from Jerry's lips because he knew
it was impossible to hold that dead convulsing weight more than
seconds.  It seemed as if Jerry's fingers and hands suddenly
gripped even harder around the boy's thick ankle.  Jerry knew
that if he didn't do something, and right away, he'd lose Ronnie
so he twisted sideways, and with all of his strength, he began
hauling upwards as he placed the boys foot and ankle over his
shoulder.  Jerry realized another officer had apparently come on
to the roof and was helping because he felt the man pressed up
against his back and pulling on Ronnie's other leg.  Jerry could
feel the other cop's gun and holster pressing into his back as
they now both struggled to hall the 250 pound football player
back on to the roof.  If it hadn't been for the boy's big feet,
and those size 13 cowboy boots he always wore, snagging on the
ledge, Jerry would have never caught his ankle in the first
place.  How, for that matter, he covered the 20 feet separating
them would be something that remained a puzzle for some time
until he finally realized the truth one day.

     Suddenly, the boy stopped struggling and as if he were as
light as a feather,  the two cops pulled him up and over the wall
and on to the roof.  "Good," Jerry thought, because he could have
never done it alone.  Ron twisted completely around as he passed
over the low wall and landed on his back.  Jerry fell on him and
wrapped his arms around him so he couldn't try again.  Ronnie's
arms went around Jerry and was squeezing the life out of him and
crying.  Ronnie was saying over and over again, "Thank you for
saving me; thank you for saving me."

     It seemed like minutes had passed when in reality, only
seconds had ticked off when Ronnie became deathly still.  Jerry
rolled off him and stared down at the boy and for a split second,
fear gripped him because he thought he was dead.  Checking the
pulse in his neck, he realized the boy was simply out cold.

     Hearing a noise to his right, he looked up as two officers
ran toward him.  "Jerry?" one of the men called out before they
reached him.  The two officers fell to their knees next to the
body of the two men.  "Is he dead or what?" one asked.

     Trying to catch his breath, Jerry gasped, "No.  He seems to
be out cold.  At least his heart is beating any way."

     One of the officer spoke into his handheld rover walkie
talkie and called for the paramedics to double time it up to the
roof.

     Jerry could still hear a few approaching sirens far below.

     The paramedics cut all of Ronnie's clothing off and examined
every square inch of his body.  It was windy on the roof, 25
stories above the street, but the medical team reported all was
normal, if you call 180 over 115 blood pressure normal that is,
but they found no injuries except for a few scrapes.  Strapping
him securely to the stretcher, and following a sedative injection
to keep him calm, they hustled the boy off the roof and down to
the waiting ambulance.

     Jerry had gotten to his feet long before the paramedics left
but he felt shaky.  "You ok, Jerr?" Hank Thompson, one of Jerry's
fellowship church members asked; reaching out and putting his arm
around his waist to steady him.  "You look kind of wobbly."

     "It's probably the adrenalin rush," Jerry said and I do feel
kind of shaky.  "That was close," he said without thought.

     "You can say that again, the other officer said.  "I thought
he was a goner for sure when Hank and I burst through the roof
door.  When I saw you hall him back over the edge and on the
roof's surface, I couldn't believe he was that big.  That was
dead weight hanging over the side."

     "Yeah," was all Jerry thought to say but something the other
cop had said puzzled him; he just couldn't think of what it was
at that moment.

     "Come on," Hank said, "Let's get downstairs and get
something to drink.  You need to rest up a little, Jerry, before
writing this report," he concluded.  With his arm still around
his friend's waist, the three men made their way to the steps and
eventually approached the express elevator.

     "You guys mind if we take the slower elevator down?" Jerry
asked.  "I don't know if my stomach is ready for that 12 second
drop to the ground floor."

     "Sure," Hank laughed.  "I don't blame you a bit.  I feel a
little woozy myself after what I saw up top."

     The men rode down an elevator that took 90 seconds instead
of the express elevator ride of 12 seconds.  Even then, Jerry
still felt shaky.  It was only after he took a few sips of a cold
Sprite, they were out of Mountain Dew, that his stomach settled
and he felt like he was coming down.


     The 3 cops talked about everything except the attempted
suicide they had just witnessed.  They were all veterans but
suicides were never pleasant and they always seemed to eventually
shake up even the most experienced cop; especially if they failed
to talk them down.  Then, of course, many attempts ended fatally
and nobody likes to witness that.

     Fred, the third officer, said, "Wasn't that kid the Mayor's
son?  It sure looked like him."

     Jerry nodded.  "Yeah, it was Ronnie.  He's in my Sunday
school class at church, too."

     Fred whistled.

     Hank said, "How the kid get on the roof?  That thing is
locked and there is always a security guard with the key walking
that floor."

     Jerry took another pull on his soda.  Clearing his throat,
he said, "Ronnie has been given permission by his dad to use the
roof.  Ronnie just got his ham radio license a few weeks ago and
being up 250 feet really helps the signal get out.  I've even
been talking to him on the ham radio after school a few times as
he tried out the high location."

     "Does he have his own key?" Fred asked a little bewildered.

     "I don't think so.  He has the security guard open the door
for him but in this case, I'm guessing the guard had no idea what
his intention were.  After all, his dad is the mayor and the
guard was probably told it was ok by the mayor for his son to be
up their."

     "Man," was all Fred could think to say as he sipped at his
black coffee.

     They sat in silence, their radios turned to low, until Jerry
remembered what Fred at said on the roof.  "Say, Fred?  What did
you mean when you said I was hauling Ronnie's body back over the
wall on to the roof.  There was another officer there," Jerry
said, "because I could feel him pulled on Ron's other leg to help
me get him back up to the roof.  Who was it?"

     The two officer stared at Jerry and then at each other.
"Jerry," Hank said, "there wasn't anybody on the roof when we
arrived on scene.  When we came through the doorway, you were
hauling for all you were worth on his one leg; that's all we saw.
There wasn't another officer up there but us."

     "What do you mean?" Jerry insisted.  "Somebody was up there.
I felt the officer's gun and holster grinding into my back as we
were sandwiched back to back and hauling on Ron's thrashing
body."

     Hank slowly shook his head.  "No, brother.  There was no one
but you and Ron on that roof."  Hank turned to Fred for
confirmation.

     "He's right, Jerr.  There was nobody there and we were both
way too far way at the moment you pulled the kid over the edge to
the roof to assist.  We couldn't have helped if we had wanted."

     Jerry sat motionless for several moments.  "So," he said
slowly, "you didn't see any other officer up there at the wall
with me and helping pull Ronnie over?"

     They both shook their heads no.

     "I don't understand," Jerry said thoughtfully, but his mind,
more like his spirit, was already telling him who the other
helper was.  Just to be certain, he was going to check the
investigation to see if there had indeed been another officer on
the roof.  He would learned there had not been anyone else on the
roof and the explanation of how he felt the sensation of being
thrown the 20 feet and slamming into Ron's body going over the
wall, was more the spiritually obvious.

     Climbing into his police car, he keyed the microphone and
went off duty 17 minutes after his shift was up.  He had quickly
written the report and then he drove slowly back to the police
station and after changing his close, not even bothering to
shower, he dressed in his street clothes and walked to the
parking lot.  The 15 minute drive home would give him time to
think but he found he was home before even registering any
thoughts.

     His wife met him at the door and let him in.  "Supper is
ready," she smiled.  "I guess you had a hard day," she said after
they hugged and kissed.  The tears, she knew, would come later as
they always did.

     "Guess you heard a lot of it on the police scanner?"

     "Yep, I did.  It sounded like you must have been in the
building and about ready to go back into service after lunch,"
she comment as they walked to the dining room table."

     "I was.  It's a good thing, too.  Otherwise, Ron Carpenter
would be dead now," he commented as they took their comfortable
seats at the table.

     "Who?  Ron Carpenter?  The mayor's son?"

     He took a long pull from the cold ice water at his plate.
"Yep.  It was Ronnie.  I don't know what was wrong but I hope to
find out soon."


     "That's awful," his wife gasped as her hand covered her
mouth briefly.

     They prayed over their food and for Ron Carpenter and his
whole family for a long time as they sat alone.

     "You don't have to eat right now, Jerry, if you aren't up to
it," his wife said softly.

     "I should eat something.  It will probably be later, if not
tomorrow or the next day, before the reality of the whole thing
lands on me like a ton of bricks."

     His wife knew that was true.  "You want to tell me what
happened or wait till some other time?"

     Jerry told her as they ate but he never finished his plate
before she cleared the table.

     Returning, she sat across from him once again and said, "I
wonder what happened?"

     "I just don't know.  Ronnie is one of the best, and most
faithful, Christian kids in the youth group.  He's group
president, for that matter, and his grades are all good, he's
popular at school, a great quarterback on the school football
team, a powerful athlete, his dad, of course, is the town best
mayor we've had in decades, and his mom plays the piano like
nobody I've ever heard.  I just don't get it."

     "I'm sure the Lord will reveal it all in good time.  For
now, at least, we can pray for him."

     "All the kids will know about it by Sunday so we'll spend
time praying for him as a group," Jerry said.

     "I'll call the intercessory prayer team," his wife replied,
"and they'll have some special prayer sessions at church Tuesday
nights for him, too."

     Jerry sighed.  The adrenal rush had drained away and his
body was turning to normal, physically speaking, but he knew his
emotions would need some extra time.  He'd make an appointment to
pray with one of the intercessors.  Maybe they could meat with
him over the weekend.  He sure needed it; he knew that much.

     He felt his wife taking his hand and pulling him to his
feet.  Leading him down the hallway, they entered the bathroom
and she began undressing him.

     "Where's the kids?" he said; suddenly realizing they had
been alone.

     "Mom called and asked the kids to come over to eat with
them.  Dad was going to take them to a movie after supper.  We're
all alone, Jerry."

     He let her finish undressing him and his eyes watched her do
the same for herself.  She adjusted the shower to the right
temperature and taking him by the hand, the each stepped in and
pulled the frosty door close.  She had done this dozens of times
when he had come home after an especially emotionally draining
day, but they had done it before work many times, too.  Her
husband was at his best early mornings, as she soon learned,
after their marriage 25 years ago, and the mornings were when he
loved the most.  They spent an hour in the hot spray as she
washed his body and shampooed his hair.  After the soap was
washed away, they held each other for long periods of time and
her husband silently cried.  She knew he had killed twice in the
line of duty.  The last time, the fleeing drug dealer had turned
and they had both fired at the same time, according to other
officers rolling up at the moment the shooting took place.  Her
husband was shot twice but his Kevlar best had saved him.  They
were so close, on the other hand, the to shots had not only
knocked Jerry down but took his breath away.  Later he would
learned his single 9 millimeter shot had penetrated his throat
and nicked and artery.  He bled out before the paramedics could
even arrive.  His first shooting had been experienced only after
a man had tried to shoot him with a shotgun in a bank robbery
when he rolled up on the scene.  Both experiences had taken him
months to recover.

     When the crying stopped, she felt his physical response
between them and turning off the shower, they stepped out and she
dried them both off.

     Opening the door leading to the master bedroom from the
bath, she led him to their bed, pull back the covers, and they
slid beneath the cool sheets.  She made love to her husband until
he went to sleep.  He slept for over 12 hours before awaking the
next morning.