“If you hire these people, then Sharee will keep picking them up.”
“Is that your concern?”
John felt his teeth grind together. “If she knows,” he said in a slow, even tone, “that she can bring these people here, and you’ll help them, then she’ll keep doing it.”
“Don’t you think what she’s doing is…well… admirable?”
“No. Picking up hitchhikers is crazy.”
“All right.” Alan dipped his head, conceding the point. “We’ve all tried to talk to her, but Sharee is a grown woman. She’s doing what she thinks the Lord wants her to do, and she’s been doing it for years. I think the girl’s got a good head on her shoulders.”
“She completely lacks common sense.”
“From what you told me yesterday, I don’t think this should concern you.” The men stared at each other. “And I think you need to work off your anger—outside, Cousin.”
“Don’t assign that man to work with me. I’m not helping you in this madness.”
“I assigned him to George. I don’t think anyone wants to work with you today.” The words held a touch of amusement.
John grabbed the door handle and jerked the door open. The swarm inside his stomach had doubled.
~.~.~
Sharee unclenched her hands and rose from the chair in the pastor’s office. Her heart hammered; her face filled with heat. How dare John come in like that? Telling Pastor Alan what he should do concerning her.
She stepped into the outer office. “I do not lack common sense.”
Pastor Alan grinned. “I was afraid you would come tearing out here after that.”
“Perhaps I should have. What right does he have to say those things? What I do with my life is my concern.”
“He cares about you, Sharee. He’s trying to protect you, and he’s right about the hitchhikers.” Pastor Alan sat on the edge of Daneen’s desk and crossed his arms. “Don’t give me that look. Daneen and I told you the same thing.”
“Yes, and we’ve talked about this before.” She crossed her arms. “I always pray before I pick up anyone. Besides, John has no right…” her voice trailed off. “John’s your cousin?”
“Oh.” Pastor Alan’s glance ricocheted from Daneen to Sharee, “I let that slip? Not good. When I offered John the job, he took it on the condition I wouldn’t say how I knew him…or…anything else about him. He wanted to be left alone.”
“He’s had great success with that until the last few months.” Sharee shifted the myriad feelings inside her. “George called and asked some questions about the project. It seems that now he and John are not talking?” She made it a question but the pastor said nothing. “My fault?”
“Sharee, they’re grown men. It’s not your fault.”
“Well, I came to give George a copy of the diagram John drew. He’s only worked on the bleachers and the platform, so he doesn’t know how everything else fits together.”
“They’re all out there now. Pedro, too. Perhaps you could wait until John cools down? Tomorrow would be better.”
“That makes sense.” She paced up and down then reached over and grabbed her keys from Daneen’s desk. “He has no right to interfere in my life.”
She stuffed the keys into her jeans pocket, nodded to Daneen and Alan and headed out the door. Where did he get off going behind her back, trying to get Pastor Alan to quit helping people she brought here? She’d put an end to this right now.
~.~.~
John pulled some tools from his truck and walked toward the work buildings. His mind churned like waves breaking against the sand. So Alan and Daneen had talked to her, too, about the hitchhikers. How stubborn could one woman be? Didn’t she know the dangers—
Sharee entered his peripheral vision. He pretended not to notice. No way was he in a mood to talk with her. He altered his course and headed a different direction.
A minute later, though, she caught up with him, swung around in front of him and stopped square in his path.
“Where do you get off coming in and demanding that Pastor Alan do something that affects my life?”
“So, you were hiding in there?”
“I wasn’t hiding. When Pastor Alan heard you come in—in a rage—he told me to stay where I was. And for your information, I have plenty of common sense. I don’t pick up just anybody. I tried to tell you Monday that I knew Pedro from the homeless shelter, but you wouldn’t listen.”
“If he’s homeless, I doubt you know him.”
“I do know him. And if you’re not willing to help people I bring here. Fine. I’m not asking you to help. Just don’t try to stop me.”
He gritted his teeth. “I’m trying to stop you from getting hurt—or worse. As for helping others, you misunderstood what I said.”
“I don’t think so.” She met his glare. “Stay out of my life.”
“Picking up hitchhikers is dangerous.”
“Doing what God wants is not always safe and comfortable, you know. Sometimes it’s hard or painful. Sometimes—” She stopped. Bit her lip. The anger in her eyes changed as she looked at him, and her next words came so soft he had to strain to hear them. “Following God is not always about getting what we want.”
His anger settled. The sudden urge to reach out and pull her to him shook him. He forced his arms to remain at his side.
She swallowed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t tell you. I just…”
“You should have.”
“I should have. You’re right. But do you have to be so nasty about it?” Before he could reply, she recovered and jutted her jaw. “And stay away from my car. I don’t need your help. I can take care of myself.” She whirled and stalked to her CR-V.
He stood, staring after her, feeling the waves inside suck backward, a riptide cratering his stomach. Her car backed out and headed around the building toward the front.
His peripheral vision worked again, and he turned his head to see George descending on him. He noticed the man’s clenched fists.
John shook his head and held up both hands. “She started it this time.”
The next moment, pain shot through his jaw and up the side of his face. He fell backward and hit the ground. A broad expanse of sky stretched before his eyes.
~.~.~
Sharee rolled over, caught a glimpse of the bedside clock and grabbed her phone. Seven in the morning. Another early caller. On a Saturday.
She looked at the caller ID. Daneen? “Hello?”
“Sharee? Sorry to wake you.”
“It’s okay. I needed to get up, anyway. What’s up?”
“John called. He had to go out of town. A family problem. He said we should cancel the work day.”
“Oh.” Her brain flipped to planning mode. “I’ll have to call everyone. A family problem, you say? I don’t know anything about John’s family. Is it serious?”
“Don’t know. He said he’d call when he knew something. His mom and dad both live in Orlando, but they’re divorced. The dad has a new wife.”
“Oh. A couple hours’ drive then.”
“Yes. He got a call an hour or so ago and was already on the road when I talked with him. He took Alexis.”
“Alexis?” Her chest squeezed.
“Yes. He asked me to call you and the others. He gave me the list of everyone that’s come. I’m just going to text everybody. Is that okay with you?”
“Oh. Yes, that’s great. Thank you.”
“Let’s pray for John and whatever this is and for Marci and her family, too.”
“For Marci?” Her voice jumped. “Why?”
“The whole family has the flu. She called right after John. She planned on dropping Matthew off to help today, but he’s sick, too. She asked if you could take her place in the nursery tomorrow.”
“I haven’t done the nursery for a while, but I can.”
“I’ll send Ryann to help you.”
“That would be gr
eat.” Sharee felt her heart tug. Marci and family sick. John on the way to Orlando. Ryann coming to work with the babies. “Okay. Let’s pray.”
Chapter 17
Sharee arrived early for nursery duty the next day. From one week to the next, things could change there. She’d need to put sheets on the cribs, find the diapers, put bags in the diaper pails and countless other things. Her key from Daneen fit a number of doors, including the nursery.
She stepped through the doorway, and her breath caught. A doll lay in the middle of the floor—throat cut, eyes gouged, red paint across the neck.
Lord, no. Not again.
A minute later, she twisted her head from right to left, examining every foot of the room. Nothing else seemed disturbed. She forced herself to look at the doll. The very neatness of the room underlined the violence done to it.
No way was she going to let the children see this. She stepped into the room and lifted the doll from the floor. Other thoughts came. Maybe I shouldn’t touch it. Maybe I should call the police. She hesitated. Her mind told her to wait. Something needed checking first.
Still holding the doll, she stepped back into the hall and locked the door. She eased out the side door and headed for the work buildings. She arrived to find the door closed, but it opened with a turn of the knob.
Pale, morning light shifted from the trees through two small windows. John’s tools hung above one work bench; Alan’s lay scattered across the other. She went past them, trying to shrug off her tensed muscles. The quiet followed her, and she breathed a sigh of relief when she came to the bathroom.
She stepped inside, flicked on the light and was immediately assaulted by memories. Her chest squeezed. A week ago. Only a week. His amusement, his concern, his kiss. All gone. She forced her attention elsewhere, glancing at the top shelf of the closet.
Nothing. Her heart skipped. Where had they gone? What had he done with them? She shoved the one she carried under her arm and stood on tiptoe to reach in as far as she could. Her hand closed around a hard object, and she tried to yank it down.
“What are you doing here?”
Sharee jumped and spun around, one hand going to her throat. John stood behind her.
“Oh!” Her breath escaped in a long gasp. “John.”
The relief passed when she looked at his face, noticing the bruise that spread from his mouth up the left side of his cheek. Remembering her words on Thursday, she dropped her eyes and felt heat climb into her cheeks. She’d lost her temper, just like him.
“What are you doing here?” The words came with less forcefulness but demanded an answer.
“I…uh…I…” She broke off and lifted the doll.
His brow creased. He reached up and pulled the other dolls down one by one, then glanced again at the one she held.
“Where did you get that?”
“On the nursery room floor. I found it a few minutes ago. I wanted to see if it was one of these.”
“One of these? Why would you think that?”
“Well, because…” She stopped, not sure herself.
“Did you think I put it there?”
“What? No.” Their eyes met, and the silence stretched between them. She could feel a vein beating in her temple. “No, I didn’t. But someone left it. I thought maybe they took it from here.”
“No one but you and Alan knows they’re here.”
“So, this is a different one.”
“It’s not different.”
She frowned. “Why do you say that?”
“It’s identical to the others. Look at them. The same type, style, everything. Even to what’s been done to the throat and eyes. They’re all the same. Exactly like the one we bought from the dollar store.” He held that one next to the one she held.
Sharee shuttered “You’re right. They’re all identical. But I meant this makes three. We have three different dolls, left at different times, in different places.”
“You found that in the nursery?”
“Right in the middle of the floor.”
“Here, give it to me.” He took it from her hand, and put them all on the shelf, pushing them out of sight again. “Let’s walk over there.”
“Why?”
“I want to see where it was. I don’t like this.”
“Especially with the notes.”
“There have been others?”
“Yes.” She gave him a brief description of the last one.
He shook his head, and a line between his brows appeared. “Definitely harassment.”
Turning, he led the way back through the building and held the door for her. When she stepped out, he locked it.
“I don’t want anyone else in here, especially now. I should have locked it before, but I only left for a minute.”
“You don’t want anyone to find the dolls?”
“No.”
They walked in silence. Sharee bit her lip and kept her head averted. When they reached the nursery, she unlocked the door.
He stepped into the doorway after her. “You locked it. Good.”
Aware of his proximity, she moved forward into the room. He caught her arm, pulling her back. “No, wait. Let me look. Just point to where it was.” He dropped her arm, and she pointed. His gaze moved over the room, even as hers had. “They had a key.”
“I thought so, too. The windows are closed and locked, and the door over there is locked and chained. This is the only way in. They had to have a key.”
“Who has access to the keys?”
“Anyone who has ever supervised the nursery, any of the youth…” She glanced up at him and trailed off. The depth of his eyes and his nearness made her heart ache.
When she stepped away this time, he didn’t stop her. Instead, he stepped back into the hall, putting distance between them.
“I’ll tell Alan about this.” His voice came over his shoulder as he made his way down the hall. “I don’t know what can be done. Changing the locks is a little late but may help for the future.” He slowed and angled toward her. “Why are you here this morning?”
“Taking Marci’s place. It’s her turn to supervise, but the kids are sick.”
He nodded and headed for the outside door once more.
“John.”
He stopped and waited. Sharee moved to his side, tilting her head to look up at him. A muscle jumped in his jaw. It highlighted the bruise near his mouth. His breath sounded ragged.
“It was Marci’s baby shower the first time, and then her car seat, and now this…” She paused. “And the notes. Shouldn’t we call the police?”
“She and Stephen should.” Quiet settled between them again.
She touched his arm. “What happened to your face?”
His brows drew together. Without answering, he turned, walked down the hall and out the door.
Chapter 18
Sharee groaned and stood up from her desk. Seven-thirty. That’s all it was. The whole night loomed before her. She had worked late after saying goodbye to her last client, and even talked with Lynn and her parents for a while, but now she faced an empty and quiet apartment. She looked at her watch, sighed, and locked the doors to the ministry’s offices.
Already, the day had proved difficult. She’d struggled to keep her focus on work. John’s face floated uninvited across her memory numerous times. She climbed into her SUV and put her head on the steering wheel.
As she switched on the Honda’s lights, her phone rang. She dug through her purse and pulled it out. “Hello?”
“Sharee, it’s Pastor Alan. Are you home?”
“Just leaving work.”
“Oh. Long day.”
“Yes.”
“Well, I hate to give you more to do, but could you stop by Marci’s on the way home?”
“Of course. Why?”
“Stephen called. Someone left another of those dolls where Marci could find it, in the car seat again, but in the car thi
s time. And this one had its head detached.”
Sharee’s stomach dropped. “No. Oh, no. How’s Marci?”
“As you would imagine. Upset. It was one of the girls—Mary, I think—that found it. So, we have a whole other scenario now that the children are aware of it. I didn’t realize they had no idea about the other times—the first one you found in the field and the one in the nursery yesterday.”
“John told you about that?”
“Yes, and the notes.”
“I was going to tell her about the others in a day or two, but she hadn’t told Stephen about anything. I…I thought of showing up at their place and telling them both.”
“Well, I took care of it for you. And I left a message for John. I think the police will want to talk with you both.”
“Oh.” Too many emotions accompanied that idea. “So they called the police?”
“Yes. As soon as Stephen saw it, he called them. Pretty gruesome from the way he described it. Eyes gouged like the rest, but the head cut off completely, left next to the body. Red painted around the neck and splashed over the doll.”
“Oh, Alan, how horrible. And for Mary to find it.”
“I’m out of town and can’t make it back there tonight. Stephen said Marci could use some support.”
“I’m on my way already.”
“Listen, I need to hang-up and try to get in touch with John again. I left a message, but if he’s working, he might not have checked it. I told Stephen to expect you.”
“Did you ever talk with Abbey about that note John found? Should I say something?”
“I tried approaching Abbey on general issues at first, but she resisted anything personal. It was not the time, or I was not the person.”
“All right.”
“Pray about what you should say, but remember how big that family is and who all are around. Abbey is obviously having a hard time. We don’t want to make it worse for her. And Sharee…”
“Yes?”
“We don’t know for sure that she wrote that note. It wasn’t signed.”
“Yes, you’re right. Pray for us, will you?”
“I will.” He hung up.
The Sheriff’s cruiser was parked in front when she pulled up at Marci’s. Sharee parked behind it.
Amber Alert: Christian Contemporary Romance with Suspense (Dangerous Series Book 1) Page 14
