On the Lookout

by Christy Barritt

CHAPTER 1

  “Moriah, it’s time.”

  Moriah Roberts stood from the stiff bed nestled on the side of her assigned RV and straightened the tunic she wore. A slight tremble raked through her limbs as she tried to comprehend the scope of what was about to happen.

  “Thank you, Ruth,” Moriah murmured to the woman standing in the doorway.

  “There’s no need to be nervous.” The permanent frown on Ruth’s face deepened, and her self-righteous pallor nearly glowed with piousness. “This should be an honor.”

  Moriah lowered her head as the reprimand echoed in her mind. The woman could chide the wind for being cold, and Moriah was certain the wind would feel guilted into changing directions.

  “It is an honor.” Moriah kept her voice soft and nonconfrontational. “But I just don’t know what to expect. Everyone has been so secretive.”

  “They’re secretive because this is special. If people spoke openly about our ceremony, then it would lessen its importance.” Ruth grabbed a towel from a drawer and wiped some mud from the side of the doorway. The woman was always the mother hen.

  Even though the two were officially roommates, the arrangement had never felt equal. Ruth was obviously more strong-willed and, therefore, the boss. She’d also been part of Gilead’s Cove longer. Ruth was the one with robust opinions, unwavering confidence, and a knack for remembering every rule that needed to be followed.

  Moriah took a step toward the door. She still felt nervous, but she wouldn’t tell Ruth that—not unless she wanted another lecture. Besides, Ruth would probably report her shortcomings to the Council and then they wouldn’t think she was worthy.

  The Council wouldn’t tell Moriah that. No, but they’d demote her to cleaning the bathrooms again. At least, that was what she feared. She hated cleaning bathrooms almost as much as she’d hated her now-deceased ex-husband Vince.

  “Come on now. The Council is waiting for you.” Ruth extended her hand to hasten Moriah outside.

  As soon as Moriah stepped from the RV and into the dark evening, a cold wind hit her. It was April now, but she’d thought the temperatures would warm up here on Lantern Beach. It had, Moriah supposed. For a couple days. But now it was cold again. The warm weather wouldn’t be here to stay until the end of May. That’s what Gilead had told her.

  A smile tugged at her lips at the thought of Gilead. Moriah had never met anyone like him before. He was smart and charismatic and . . . a gift from God.

  Not just to her. To everyone. To the world.

  The world just didn’t realize it yet.

  He was the reason Moriah had turned her life around, though. She owed him everything. And, one day, she would give him everything.

  Her sandals hit the rocky sand beneath her as she walked toward the water. Though the ocean pounded the other side of the island, Gilead’s Cove was located on the shore of the Pamlico Sound. The waters were much more peaceful here, but she’d heard the bugs and snakes could be bad. She’d find out about that when the weather got warmer.

  “The Council is waiting,” Ruth reminded her, motioning that Moriah should hurry her steps.

  She wasn’t sure why Ruth had been assigned as her roommate. The woman, tolerable at first, had quickly become overbearing. Moriah couldn’t wait until they no longer had to live together.

  Love your neighbors because love changes the world.

  She remembered the verse from Makir—a book of the Bible Gilead had discovered himself.

  It was so hard to put those commands into practice sometimes, though. But she would try, for the sake of the cause. But she felt certain Ruth had been placed in her life as a trial, as a way to cultivate joy in hard times just as the book of James in the Bible talked about.

  In the distance, Moriah spotted a fire burning. Six silhouettes stood around it, most likely silent, with their bodies stiff.

  The Council.

  The sight reminded Moriah of an archaic ritual full of sacred beauty.

  “Go, girl,” Ruth whispered. “Don’t be scared. You’ll be fine.”

  If Moriah would be fine, then why was there a slight quiver to Ruth’s voice?

  A new fear invaded her.

  Just what did this initiation entail?

  Moriah sucked in a deep breath of courage and stepped forward. One of the members of the Council—Enoch—reached out his hand for her, and she stepped inside the circle.

  This was it. This was when she’d officially become a Makirite.

  Her gaze quickly scanned the group of men, and her heart thudded with a new realization. Gilead wasn’t here. Moriah had thought he would be, and disappointment bit deep that he was absent.

  No, that’s okay, Moriah. He trusts his Council to do this, and he doesn’t have to be here. It’s the sign of a great leader.

  Moriah’s eyes flickered to another one of the council members. Dietrich. He held something in his hand—it almost looked like a poker.

  A poker?

  Her heart rate quickened.

  What in the world would they use a poker for?

  “Thou shall suffer for the cause.” Dietrich’s voice sounded solemn with ceremony and decorum. “The Dedicated all bear the markings of Makir. In this way, we can be set apart. Do you agree, Moriah? Do you want to be set apart?”

  “I do.” Her voice trembled at the uncertainties of what she was about to get into, and her eyes didn’t leave the glowing, orange metal in Dietrich’s hands.

  “And do you believe in suffering for the cause?”

  “I do.” Consider it pure joy when you face trials of many kinds . . .

  “Then reveal your shoulder,” Dietrich said.

  Reveal her shoulder? Were they . . . ?

  Everyone waited.

  Hardly able to breathe, Moriah pulled the tunic down from her left shoulder, exposing her skin to the frigid air.

  Dietrich lifted the glowing poker and turned toward her.

  “On your knees,” he directed.

  Her knees? Another tremble rolled through Moriah as all blood left her face.

  You can trust these people, Moriah. They’re your friends. Your community. Your people.

  With one more breath of hesitation, Moriah lowered herself to the ground.

  But when she saw the burning hot metal headed toward her, all of her strength and resolve vanished.

  What was she doing here? Was this all one big, bad mistake—just like most of the decisions in her life had been?

  As the metal hit her skin, a groan emerged from a part of her soul so deep she hadn’t even realized it existed. The world around her spun as pain captured her in its entirety and tears spilled down her cheeks.

  And, then, as the realization about what was happening reached her brain, she screamed. And screamed. And screamed some more.

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on after a man mysteriously disappears from the island she now calls home. A recurring nightmare from her time undercover only muddies things, as does a visit from the parents of her handsome ex-Navy SEAL neighbor. When a friend's life is threatened, Cassidy must make choices that put her on the verge of blowing her cover. With a flood watch on her emotions and her life in a tangle, will Cassidy find the truth? Or will her past finally drown her?

  Storm Surge

  A storm is brewing hundreds of miles away, but its effects are devastating even from afar. Laid-back, loose, and light: that’s Cassidy Livingston’s new motto. But when a makeshift boat with a bloody cloth inside washes ashore near her oceanfront home, her detective instincts shift into gear . . . again. Seeking clues isn’t the only thing on her mind—romance is heating up with next-door neighbor and former Navy SEAL Ty Chambers as well. Her heart wants the love and stability she’s longed for her entire life. But her hidden identity only leads to a tidal wave of turbulence. As more answers emerge about the boat, the danger around her rises, creating a treacherous swell that threatens to reveal her past. Can Cassidy mind her own business, or will the storm surge of violence and corruption that has washed ashore on Lantern Beach leave her life in wreckage?

  Dangerous Waters

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  About the Author

  USA Today has called Christy Barritt's books “scary, funny, passionate, and quirky.”

  Christy writes both mystery and romantic suspense novels that are clean with underlying messages of faith. Her books have won the Daphne du Maurier Award for Excellence in Suspense and Mystery, have been twice nominated for the Romantic Times Reviewers’ Choice Award, and have finaled for both a Carol Award and Foreword Magazine’s Book of the Year.

  She is married to her Prince Charming, a man who thinks she’s hilarious—but only when she's not trying to be. Christy is a self-proclaimed klutz, an avid music lover who’s known for spontaneously bursting into song, and a road trip aficionado.

  When she's not working or spending time with her family, she enjoys singing, playing the guitar, and exploring small, unsuspecting towns where people have no idea how accident-prone she is.

  Find Christy online at:

  www.christybarritt.com

  www.facebook.com/christybarritt