Amber Alert: Christian Contemporary Romance with Suspense (Dangerous Series Book 1)

by Linda K. Rodante

Sharee watched it disappear around the drive. Beside her, Pastor Alan cleared his throat.

  Sharee’s head swung his way. “Who is that?”

  “Someone I’ve known most of my life.” He stared after the car. “But haven’t seen for a while. Someone who needs the Lord.”

  “Oh.” She stared down the drive to where the car had disappeared. “John looked different today, and he seemed different the other day. I mean, when we were talking about the program.”

  “Did he? How?”

  “I’m not sure. Not so serious. He seemed lighter. Easier to talk with.”

  “About your Christmas program?”

  “Yes.”

  “It took him a while to make up his mind. Since he did, he’ll do a good job.”

  “I know. He always does.”

  “Have you ever told him that?”

  “Told him what?”

  “That he does a good job. Everybody appreciates a word of appreciation.”

  “Hmm. Well, when do I get the chance? Unless you two drag us out here for some project you’ve dreamed up, I hardly see him.”

  “Every one of those projects, Miss Jones, has benefited the congregation more than us, and you know it.”

  She grinned. “I do.”

  His smile matched hers.

  “Pastor, wait!” A woman’s voice came from behind them. “Wait! I need to talk to you.” Roseanne hurried across the parking lot. A crimson dress was accented with light-catching sequins, and a matching comb held back the red hair.

  “Hello, Roseanne.”

  The woman shot a glance at Sharee then turned her attention to the pastor. “I need your assistance, Pastor.” Her hands fluttered in emphasis, and the light captured the wink of numerous rings on her fingers.

  “What can I help with today, Roseanne? No finances, I hope.”

  “I want to help Marci with the baby, but she says she has six other children, and they can help. That’s ridiculous. She’s got to wait on them, and on the baby, and on her husband, too. I know how that works. She needs help, and I have time. It’s just pride making her say no.”

  “Now, Roseanne.” Pastor Alan’s voice soothed. “If Marci says she doesn’t need help, you can’t—”

  “It’s not just that. I’m new here. I need something to keep me busy. Since my move here and the divorce, well, I have to get re-established. What’s a church for if not to help people?”

  “You’re right, but Marci…”

  “The rest of your flock are all chipper and fine,” Roseanne said. Her eyes narrowed as she glanced at Sharee. “No problems there. So, why can’t you convince Marci that I can help with the baby?”

  “Well.” Pastor Alan’s gaze touched Sharee’s. He’d noticed Roseanne’s attitude, of course. “Let’s go talk with Daneen. Maybe she has an idea.”

  They headed toward the church, and Sharee dropped behind. Pride. The word had surfaced twice in a few minutes. She twisted her head and eyed her SUV.

  Why had she not wanted to tell them about her car? “Swallow your pride,” John had said, and Roseanne’s remark about pride left a tinge of guilt, too, even though her reference had been about Marci.

  She pulled a soft peppermint from her pocket, unwound the wrapper and popped the candy into her mouth. You trying to tell me something, Lord? I don’t like asking for help. Is that pride?

  Was she still trying to prove something to her parents? Being an only child had its plusses and minuses.

  Behind her came the drumbeat of running feet, raised voices, and throaty laughter. She shifted and glanced over her shoulder. Five or six girls from the youth group ran toward her.

  A warning leaped through her even before she saw the pistols. She spun toward her car.

  “Quick! Get her! Don’t let her get away!”

  Chapter 4

  The warning and resultant blast of adrenaline gained her nothing. Sharee ran for her CR-V, but the group of girls surrounded her before she reached it. Spray from the water guns soaked her back and chest. Laughter rose and encircled her.

  “Hey! Stop! Wait!” Sharee put up her hands for protection and recognized Ryann and some of the other youth as they surrounded her. Since she’d taught the girls’ Bible class and pulled a number of jokes on them, they had found ways to make sure the weights and balances of “get even” stayed in their favor.

  “Girls!”

  Zings of water drenched her hair and ran down her clothing. She fumbled for the car door and yanked it open. Someone shoved it closed. Giggling and squeals rose, and one girl up-ended a cup of water over her head. Icy fingers streamed down her neck and slid under her collar.

  Sharee screeched. “You’re gonna regret this!” She tried to sound firm and tried to keep the laughter out of her voice. Managing to pry open the door, she squeezed her body into the car then had to fight to get it closed. Water shot past her.

  “My car!” Sharee protested. “You’re soaking my car!”

  More giggles surrounded her, and she couldn’t help laughing herself. “All right. All right. But you’re in so much trouble!” She yanked on the door.

  “We got you, Ms. J. We got you!”

  More water blasted her, sharp bursts that saturated her hair and jacket and the inside of her SUV. She wrestled the door closed and locked it. The girls circled the car and flooded every inch of it before running off.

  She huddled there for a while, shivering and wet, and then moved her head to get a good look in the rearview mirror. Her curls were soaked and matted. By the time she went home and changed, church would be over. She left the parking lot shaking her head in amusement and determination.

  She’d get them back all right. Wait until she thought of the right plan.

  A few miles passed. A picture of Abbey standing behind the others, arms across her chest, flashed across her mind. Sharee turned onto the highway. Abbey hadn’t joined in the other girls’ prank. Instead, she’d stood apart.

  She remembered her own high school years. Even with other Christian students at her school, she’d been a loner, too. Maybe that’s why she was one, still. It hadn’t changed that much, especially with guys. Except for Marci and Lynn, she had few close friends. Friends at work were just that. Work friends. They rarely spent time together outside of work. Everyone had families and other interests and church. Not that she complained. No. God had somehow inserted Himself into that hole. Particularly over the last two years…

  Since Dean.

  She stared past her car back to the darkening sky. The warm colors of a few minutes ago had changed. The fire corals had muted to cool apricots mixed with pale gray clouds.

  Abbey’s face flashed into her mind again. She’s hurting, Lord. I see that. I need more patience with her. Sharee took a deep breath. Show me what to do.

  ~.~.~

  The dry, brisk air heightened every sense before she started across the parking lot for the field. A glorious day. Sharee’s anticipation jumped higher as she noticed three rows of chairs already there. John had started working on something already. He’d wanted to talk with her again.

  She stopped in front of the chairs. Stakes, rope, and some tools sat on one, a towel and plastic water bottle on another. She glanced toward the two buildings that contained the tools and machines needed for work around the property. If he was anywhere, it was probably there.

  As she started that way, he came around the corner of one building. He wore sweatpants, a sweatshirt, and running shoes. Another outfit she’d never seen.

  “You jog?” Sharee asked when he was close, trying to keep the surprise from her voice.

  Cooper rounded the building, too, trotted up to her, tongue lolling, and pushed against her legs. Her throat closed. She stepped away from him. A moment later, she reached a tentative hand to pat his head.

  Be nice to the dog. The owner is helping big time.

  “Yeah, you?” He watched her a second then studied the field.

&n
bsp; “Yes.”

  He nodded, wrote something on the tablet then lifted his head. “You jog?” His tone mimicked hers.

  Heat rose in her face. “I’m sorry. It’s just that…I’ve never seen you…” And yet, he had a runner’s lean build. Why had she never thought about his life outside of work? Just because he didn’t talk about his private life didn’t mean he had none. A mental picture of the girl in the Jaguar surfaced. Obviously, he did.

  John grabbed a stake and a hammer and headed off across the field. “Bring the rope, will you, and the other stakes?”

  She snatched up the others and headed after him.

  He hammered the stake into the ground, straightened, and held out his hand. Confused, she shoved both hands at him. He took the rope, looped it through a hole at the top of the stake and tied it in a quick knot.

  “I’ve never seen you jogging either, and I’m trying to work in some barb here about jogging and your height and what short strides you must have, but I just can’t put it together. Take it that I owe you one. In the meantime…” He lifted a stake from her hand, began to unroll the rope, and walked off.

  She stared after him. What?

  He played the rope out and flashed a look over his shoulder. “Come on, girl, get with it. Stakes, please. This is your project.”

  Sharee gaped at him, unsure how to take his attitude. So different from the other day. She forced her legs to move. He looped the rope through a hole in the second stake and strode back across the field and came to a stop.

  Sharee marched over and slapped another stake into his outstretched hand. What had her height to do with anything? Just because his stature reached cell tower status didn’t mean he could insult her.

  “You’re speechless.” His eyes held amusement.

  She contemplated his grin, the clothes, and the cocky attitude and narrowed her eyes. “I’ve got a handful of sharpened stakes, and you’re giving me a hard time.”

  He laughed aloud, reached over, and took the stakes. “Just in case. Come on. I want you to see this once we mark it off. I’ve placed the chairs where I think your bleachers should be—to give us an idea.” He pounded in the third stake, tied the rope, and returned to the first one. “Your first fat triangle.”

  In a short time, they finished the second triangle that finished the large six-pointed star on the ground. When they stood next to the chairs, she saw the scope of the area marked off.

  “Wow. That’s big.”

  “For what you’ve planned, that’s what we’ll need. You’re not leading animals from one section to the other without this much room. And you’re right about the bleachers. We’ll need them for people to see what’s happening.”

  She cocked her head. “I was right on that?”

  He chuckled and looked back at the chairs. “Yes, you were right, and is this the right place for the bleachers?”

  “I think so, don’t you?”

  “Looks best to me. You want easy access from the parking lot.”

  She nodded. “I…uh…”

  He lifted a brow when she stopped.

  “I…well, I appreciate what you’re doing here, that you agreed to help. I…we…couldn’t do it without you.”

  After a moment, a slow smile appeared. “Was that a thank you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Seemed hard for you to say.”

  She shook her head. “Will you quit that? I’m trying to thank you. Quit baiting me.”

  “Sorry.” But his eyes were back-lit with laughter.

  “You know, there is something else.”

  “What is that?”

  “I thought we might need…well, a platform or something from which we can direct everything. Instead of trying to do it from the ground.”

  “A platform?”

  “Yeah.” She pointed between the bleachers and the north side of the star. “Something about eight feet off the ground. We’d know how each scene went. We could direct things from it, use the spotlight…”

  “A platform?”

  “Like a control tower.”

  “A control tower?”

  “Yes.”

  After a moment of quiet, he said. “You’re serious?”

  She nodded.

  “All right, but I’m not sure on this one. We have to think about time and cost. Did Alan give you a budget?”

  “Uh…no.”

  The dark brows lifted. “Let me talk to him.” He turned and called for the dog.

  Cooper appeared from around the office and ran forward, circling her. Sharee’s heart lurched, and she crossed her hands over her chest.

  John slipped his fingers under the dog’s collar and pulled him back. “He’s a pussycat. Really.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Sit, Cooper. Stay.” The dog sat back on his haunches, and John turned to Sharee. “Help me with these chairs. It’s getting dark.”

  They folded the chairs and headed back to the shed, carrying some under each arm.

  “How’s the car?”

  She shifted the chairs. “It’s running.”

  John opened the door to the shed, and they stacked them inside. “Clean the terminals?”

  “As a matter of fact, I did.” She lifted her chin. “Ha!”

  His mouth curled on one side. “Did it help?”

  “It seemed to.” They headed back to the parking lot.

  “Look, may I say something?”

  She crossed her arms, trying to keep her impatience under control. Didn’t anyone think she could take care of herself? She took a long breath. “Okay.”

  “It’s possible you need a battery. If you take it to a station that does auto repair work, you can have them test yours. If you need one, usually they’ll sell you one there and install it for you. It’s an easy solution. You don’t want to be stranded somewhere.”

  His concern seemed real.

  She took a long breath. “All right.” If it happened again, she’d do it, just not before payday.

  She glanced up as the light from the parking lot’s pole lamp switched on. The sun had slipped past the horizon, and the cool stillness of the evening hung over them.

  “I’ve talked with some of the other guys,” John said. “George and Sam will help me get a head start on this. We’ll get the frame done on the bleachers. You can make an announcement Sunday to start work the following Saturday. You’ll need a lot of volunteers.”

  A white van came around the drive and parked near them. Sharee peered at it—an older model Dodge van. The doors opened, and Roseanne and Marci climbed down.

  Sharee chuckled. “Marci’s out already with the baby. With Roseanne.”

  “I’m glad everything went well for her. Especially after the car accident.”

  “You mean Marci? When Bruce knocked her down the other day?”

  “No. The car accident.”

  Sharee nodded, remembering Marci’s stressed call to her a day later. “We were going to that out-of-town youth rally. Stephen took the kids in the van, and I followed with Bruce in the car. A woman just came out of nowhere, ran the red light and crashed into us. Sharee, it was horrible! The woman was screaming. Bruce was bleeding and out cold, the car crushed on his side. I didn’t know if they’d get him out. But they did, and then the ambulances took us to different hospitals. Pastor Alan said Bruce might not walk again, and that the other woman’s son died. Sharee, how can I live with that?”

  “Marci, if the woman ran the red light, it’s not your fault.”

  But the accident had crushed the whole church, in a way. Only now were they coming out of it. Sharee swallowed and watched Marci reach into the back of the van. She turned a moment later with Joshua in her arms. Sharee smiled. Things were looking up. Hopefully, the Christmas program would help, too.

  Another car pulled into the lot, its lights raking them as it passed and parked next to the van.

  Matthew Thornton climbed from the second car an
d took the baby from his mother. When he had strapped him into the car seat in the back, Marci climbed into the front. They waved to Roseanne and then to Sharee and John when they drove past. Roseanne took the back exit and disappeared on the road behind the property.

  Sharee crossed her arms across her chest. “Marci still feels responsible for the crash, and that’s ridiculous. She wasn’t the one cited.”

  “That doesn’t always remove the guilt.”

  His voice had changed, deepened. Sharee looked up, but he moved toward their vehicles. She caught up with him. A cool wind penetrated her shirt, and she rubbed her arms.

  “Where’s your jacket, girl?”

  Girl? He’d called her that before. Sharee huffed. “In my car.”

  “You trying to catch pneumonia?”

  “What? There you go again. You know, it’s not freezing out here. I know if I need a jacket. And don’t call me girl.”

  He grinned. “Just wanted to see if I could activate that chip on your shoulder.”

  “I don’t have a chip on my shoulder. I…” Sharee stopped. The man was amusing himself at her expense, and she was adding to his pile of kindling. “I hope you’re having a good day today.”

  “It’s ending well.”

  She slid her eyes his way and shook her head. He chuckled, and she did, too. At some point, he’d let go of the dog. It trotted beside her as they made their way to her car. She did her best to ignore him and looked for a distraction.

  “John, what did you do before you came here?”

  He stopped short, in mid-stride. She almost stumbled trying to stop beside him. A moment later, though, he reached for her car door and opened it. She slid inside.

  “Drive safe.” He shut the door and walked across the grass toward the office. The dog followed. Their retreating figures blended into the twilight.

  Sharee watched until he opened the office door. A slice of light dissected the darkness and went out.

  “Well,” she said aloud. “That question had about as much chance as a kite surfer in a hurricane.” She shrugged and prayed for the car to start. It did.

  ~.~.~

  Inside the office, Pastor Alan leaned back in his chair and watched his cousin pace back and forth in front of his desk. “Why didn’t you tell her?”