Splashdown: A Christian Contemporary Romance with Suspense (Dangerous Series Book 3) (18 page)

Lynn watched the uniformed officer search the kitchen. Relief flooded her, sending warmth throughout her body. Her head swam as fear exited her. In a few minutes, the officer returned to the living area with a pair of scissors and knelt beside Lily.

“I’m going to cut the tape then we’ll pull this off you. It’s going to hurt some, but you’ll be okay. Do you understand?”

Lily nodded.

The door opened. Lynn’s head jerked around. Rich stood in the doorway. A flood of relief washed over her. His gaze met hers, and his eyes widened. He made a move in her direction but stopped and inspected the rest of the room before he made his way over to her.

He stood a moment, eyes studying her before he leaned over and began to peel the tape from her mouth. “Probably the only way he got you to shut up, huh?” The amusement mixed with a gruffness she hadn’t heard before. The blue eyes, as close as when he’d kissed her, looked darker than she remembered. He pulled on the tape. She winced.

“Sorry.” He peeled the rest off, then spent a second or two just looking at her.

“Detective, you want the scissors?”

Rich turned and held out his hand to the officer. “Thanks.”

They were both silent as he cut the tape and tugged it from her clothes. His eyes were so close and so blue and so concerned that she wanted to climb into them and hide. He pulled her to her feet. She stumbled, tried to catch herself, and his hands came under her arms and hauled her against him. She fought tears.

“What are you doing here?” His voice still held that curious mix of roughness and amusement. “Wrong place, wrong time?”

Lynn nodded, swallowed and looked away from him. The lights in the room dimmed.

“Lynn.”

She tried to turn her head, but everything began to whirl. The room tilted. Someone turned the lights off and then on again.

Rich’s arms tightened. “You’re not going to faint on me, are you?”

“No,” she said, just before the blackness encompassed her.

***

The waves flung themselves against the white sand. Their dark color reflected the morning’s storm. Rain raced across the beach, past the cabana seats and umbrellas, past the pool, and slapped against the sliding glass doors.

Yesterday had been long; the night even longer. Lynn caught her lip with her teeth and shifted her gaze down the beach. Empty. Like the feeling inside her.

Coming to from the faint yesterday, hearing Rich say her name, she had for a few seconds bathed in the feeling of his concern. Remembering what a lie it must be had jolted her awake.

“Let go.” She emphasized the words by pushing against him, struggling to get free. He sat her back in the chair and stared down at her.

“Lynn.”

But she refused to look at him. She put her head in her hands then asked, “Where’s Sharee?” When he said nothing, fear shook her; and she raised her head. “Where’s Sharee? And John? Are they okay?”

“Sharee’s okay.” His words sounded crisp now, professional. “John, too.”

Relief washed over her. Then she looked away again and saw Lily and Maria. They stood across the room, holding tight to each other.
Thank you, Lord.

A minute later, Rich had walked from the room, leaving the door standing open, and her heart aching and bare.

She turned from the ocean view, picked up her handbag from the counter and walked to the door. Tom said she should stay home from work to recuperate, but being alone in the condo brought nothing but longing and heartache.

Her phone rang. She dug into her purse and pulled it out. Rich. She sent a pleading look upward.
I can’t deal with this now, Lord. I can’t.

She punched the green button. “Rich, I need some time. Please don’t call again.”

“We should talk.”

“Not now.”

“Why?”  

She hit the button again, tossed the phone into a chair and dropped into the other one. Drawing her legs up, she rocked back and forth. Because I went through this with another man who wanted me to trust him, and I can’t deal with the lies right now.

***

“John.” Sharee put down the phone, feeling cold inside. She cleared her throat and said his name again.

He came out of the bedroom, carrying his running shoes, sat down on the couch and glanced her way. “Change your mind. Come for a run with us.” The dog walked back and forth between them.

“No. I…”

He stood and walked over to her, encircling her with his arms. “I would feel better if you did. You know that.”

“It won’t matter now.” 

“Why? Who was that on the phone?”

“Detective Carpenter. He said they found Afton’s body this morning.”

“His body?”

“Yes. Someone shot him. I…the detective said…that they had assumed he wasn’t working alone. He was probably picking up girls wherever he could for these…these pimps who would use them. Carpenter said someone must have felt since Afton’s cover was blown that he was a liability. So they killed him.” She shivered.

John tightened his hold. “It’s over then.” He let out a long breath. “For us, anyway. Thank God. Let them fight it out among themselves.”

“It’s just so brutal. Here they are kidnapping these young girls, enslaving them, and then killing each other. It’s horrible.”

“Come for a run. It will clear your head.”

“No, I just need some quiet time.” She raised her head. “I don’t get much these days.”

“So would you like being back in your apartment—without me?”

“Not on my life—or yours.” She lifted her head, and he bent and kissed her. “Too many pluses this way.”

“Oh?” His smile started then faded. “When I heard your voice on the phone yesterday, I knew something was wrong; and when he came out with you…”

“You saved me. You tackled him.”

“No, God saved you, saved us both—all of us.”

Sharee nodded. She needed to hear this right now. After the long session with law enforcement, giving and signing their statements, they hadn’t talked much before collapsing into bed last night. They’d slept intertwined, both needing the assurance of the other’s nearness. Now, she stared up at him and stilled the shaking that threatened again.

The dog circled them. John brushed a curl back from her face. “It’s okay, Sharee. You’re okay. Everyone is okay.”

“That’s a miracle, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

She tried to smile. “Where did you learn to fight like that?”

His brows rose. “Fight? Hmm…football, I guess.”

“You played football?”

“What? You thought I played basketball?”

“You didn’t?”

He grinned. “I did some, everyone thought I should; but I liked football because it was…well, more of a contact sport.”

“You mean you liked the roughness.” When he nodded, she shook her head. “I can’t see you playing football. What did you play?”

“Wide receiver. But only the first two years of college. You’re right. I’m a little light. I wouldn’t have made the pros. I was lucky to play a few years at a small college. But by then, I already knew that I wanted to go overseas to minister, so it didn’t matter. College was my parent’s idea, anyway.” He studied her for a moment, and his face stilled.

“What?”

“Nothing. We’ll talk later.”

She drew back. “You’re going to hound me about picking up hitchhikers, again, aren’t you?”

“Let’s talk later.”

“Just because God has given you a leadership role in this family doesn’t mean everything has to be on your timetable.” He said nothing, and she continued, “We’ll finish this now. You win.”

“What?” His brows lifted. “I win?” 

“Yes, you win. I give up. I’ll do what you want.”

His mouth parted but nothing came out. He closed it again.

She couldn’t help a wide smile. “You should be throwing your hat in the air or jumping up and down or something. I’ll do it your way. I’ll quit picking up hitchhikers. We can talk about other stuff as it comes up, but I’ll listen to you and trust you—and God.” She lifted a hand to his jaw. “Is that good enough for you?”

“Sharee.” He caught her hand in his. “It’s not winning. It’s not about that. It’s doing this—this life stuff—together and listening to one another. Not just you listening to me, but me listening to you, too. We’re a team.” 

“I love you, teammate.” She stepped close and slid her arms around him. Man, did she love him. “I’m still learning this marriage stuff. Can you put up with me while I’m learning?”

His arms crushed her. “As long as you put up with me, too.” 

***

How did the book get between the bed and the dresser? Sharee leaned over and snatched it from the floor. Had she or John or the dog somehow knocked it off? Must have. How had she not noticed? She’d taken it from Victoria—no, Marianne’s—bag to look through it. She turned it back and forth in her hand.
Rolling Thunder
. Well, it couldn’t matter now. Things were over.

What had made her put it on the dresser? Ah. The book was dirty, and some pages were taped. That was it. She’d watched too many CSI programs. The tape had dirty fingerprints on it, and she’d thought maybe… After all, someone had murdered Marianne Stablowski. Were they looking for this?

She stared down at the page she held open and at the tape and walked into the living room. Picking up her phone, she began to dial Detective Richards’ number but stopped. He was persona non grata right now. She punched in Detective Carpenter’s number instead. 

Her idea about the book and the tape didn’t impress him, but he promised to swing by and pick it up. As the call ended, Lynn’s number appeared on her screen.

She clicked over to the other line. “Hey, girlfriend. How are you doing today?”

“I need to get out of here. You up to lunch?” Lynn’s voice wavered.

“You okay?”

“A long night. Crabby Bill’s is open. Can you join me?”

“Sure, I love their food. I’ll let John know and head out.”

“Okay.”

The line went dead, Sharee lowered her head.
Lord, Lynn needs you. Help her.

Twenty minutes later, she turned her CR-V onto Gulf Boulevard, hit the hands-free device for her phone and called Lynn. “Come down and meet me.”

“Sure.”

Sharee pulled into the parking lot of the condominium, rolled down the window and inhaled the salt air. Lynn exited the condominium’s front door and climbed into the car. Her forced smile wilted on her face, and her eyes filled with tears. Sharee reached over and hugged her. “You should have stayed at our place last night.”

“No, you two needed the time together. Not with a third party in your midst.”

“You didn’t need to be alone after yesterday.”

“I could have had company if I’d wanted.”

“Oh?” 

“Rich called.”

Sharee sucked in her breath. “Did he?”

“Three times.”

“Oh, Lynn, you should talk with him.”

Lynn turned to stare out the window. “I know. It’s just… I’m a coward.”

“You? I don’t think so. But after yesterday, anyone—”

“Would be running into his arms. And that’s what I don’t want to do. I need the truth, Sharee, and I don’t need it when I’m willing to believe anything just to have him hold me. I went through this before, remember? In fact, this whole scenario feels like a replay of my life—the bad parts.”

“Maybe you should see another counselor. Just because one was a jerk doesn’t mean they all are.”

Lynn huffed. “How would I know? I seem to have a track record of picking out whoever is married to date.”

Sharee slid her gaze to Lynn’s face. “Lynn, you—”

“Let’s drop the subject, okay?”

Sharee bit her lip. “All right.” She put the car in drive and headed south on Gulf Boulevard. In a few minutes, they turned into the parking lot and parked right next to the restaurant. Sharee glanced around. “We’re early for lunch, I guess. Hardly anyone’s here.”

“Good. I just want some peace.” Lynn tried a smile again. “Thanks for coming. I needed to get out.”

“That’s what I’m here for.”

They climbed from the car. Sharee pointed the fob at her car to lock it.

Pop!

Something exploded in her head. She spun backward and fell across the car’s hood. Pain seared her skull. She reached to grab her head and slipped, body crumpling, sliding to the ground. Her elbow hit the asphalt, and pain detonated through her elbow and arm, and everything went blank.

“Sharee!” Lynn screamed and started around the car. Another shot sounded and grazed the top of the CR-V. She ducked behind the car. Who was shooting? Where was it coming from?
God, help!

Lynn shoved her hand into her purse, grabbed her phone, and dialed 911. A woman’s voice sounded across the line.

“What’s your emergency?”

“Someone’s shooting at us. My friend’s been hit. Send an ambulance. Send the police. Please. Hurry.”

“Someone’s been shot?”

“Yes, please—”

“What is your location?”

“Crabby Bill’s.”

“Crabby Bill’s?”

“On Indian Rocks Beach. Send someone now.”

“Stay on the line.”

“I can’t. I don’t know where he is.”

“We’re sending someone. Stay on the line. What is your name?”

Lynn punched the phone. She looked around. What if he walked up? What would she do? She edged forward, trying to see Sharee. The sound of a car’s motor froze her. What if the shooter was deranged? Shooting at anyone, everyone? She glanced over the hood and saw a shiny black car edging forward. The driver, half covered by shadow, peered across the car through the passenger’s side window. His right hand held a gun. He pointed it out that window toward the ground.

Where Sharee had fallen...

Lynn vaulted to her feet, yelled and swung her purse.

The gun jerked from Sharee’s inert form to her. She flung the purse at him even as the gun exploded again. Something tore through her shoulder and spun her back from the car to the ground. Pain blinded her. She heard a shout, another shot, and tires screeching.

A wash of blackness rose, but she shook her head and fought it. Glancing down at her shoulder, she caught sight of the blood oozing between her fingers. The blackness rose again.
No. Not now.
She reached for the side of the car.

“Are you all right?” A man leaned over her.

“Is…is he gone?”

“Yes.”

“Is Sharee all right?”

“The other woman? I don’t know. Here.” The man pulled off his T-shirt and raised her fingers to press the shirt against her shoulder.

She sucked in her breath as pain surged through her.

“Hold it tight.” He stood and circled the car.

Lynn struggled to a sitting position. “Sharee!” Other people crowded around, coming from the restaurant. “Help me up. Please. Help me up.”

“Maybe you should stay there until the ambulance comes,” a woman’s voice said.

“No, I need to see my friend.”

A stranger took hold of her good arm, and the woman grabbed her around the waist. They lifted her to her feet.

“Thank you.” She steadied herself before pushing past them.

The man who had first helped her and another woman bent over Sharee. They looked up. “Her head,” the woman said.

Lynn dropped beside her.
Please, Lord. No. Not like Momma. Please, Lord.

Her hands shook as she touched Sharee’s face, trying to push the hair back without touching the blood. “You’re gonna be okay, Sharee. You hear me?!” She made it a command. “You’re gonna be okay.” Heat and nausea rose from her gut and poured over her. Her vision spotted and blurred. Why was there always blood?

A siren’s scream sounded in the distance and climbed higher.

“Sharee, you hang on.” Lynn’s voice tangled with the fog rising around her. Seconds passed as she tried to clear her vision.

The siren’s yell filled her ears, red lights strobed, and tires squealed into the parking lot. The deafening noise stopped abruptly. Doors slammed, words barked from one person to another.

Someone was talking to her. She tried to concentrate. Waves of blackness rose from the concrete. She fidgeted and tried to prop herself up, but her hand landed in the blood. She flinched, and a moment later, her whole body slid down beside Sharee’s. Darkness engulfed her.