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

by Linda K. Rodante

  Their song seemed to weave the very presence of God into the air around them. She stared across the field, and the light on the chorus shimmered again then shook. After a moment, she glanced at the control tower. The spotlight was shaking.

  ~.~.~

  John felt the intense presence of God even more than Sharee. He fought the desire to kneel down. He’d known from the moment he heard about the project that it would cause him problems. When Alan first mentioned it, he put him off. Then when Alan approached him a second time, John decided to confront it head-on—by helping with the building aspect. He’d help all he could beforehand, but he would not be here the night the program took place. Even as the relationship with Sharee moved forward these last few weeks, he never told her otherwise. She assumed differently, of course. But from the beginning, he’d prepared Matthew to take over. Yet, right now, here he stood. Not Matthew. Him.

  Sharee’s question hit at the heart of the problem. His resistance toward God’s advances would fill the proverbial book. But how could he forgive himself or God? His anger at his maker was real, but the anger at himself had created a tsunami that threatened to overtake him.

  Friends had given them the plane, and Janice’s excitement pushed him to take it up. He had done a cursory exam—he had, the one many people had dubbed a perfectionist. And the first time he’d slacked off… No…the second time.

  The pain slicing through his heart almost bowed him. If he’d gone with Alexis that night, if he’d checked the plane properly... His responsibility. Both times. His.

  The weight of the spotlight rested on his shoulder, almost unbearably heavy. In four weeks of practice, it had never felt like this. He stood with his feet apart, his right hand tight on the light. The agonizing weight shot pain through his neck and shoulder.

  The sound of the plane’s engine filled his mind again. He relived the confusion, hearing the engines sputter and spit and stop. Janice’s scream. The memories of panic and loss rushed through him, and afterward, the loneliness and grief. The guilt.

  Emotions dammed up too long tore loose—breaking, exploding. The hand holding the light shook.

  Let me take it, son. It’s an unbearable weight for you, but not for me.

  John shook his head. He clenched his teeth. The presence of God swept like warm liquid through him. Intense love caused his hands and every fiber of his being to shake.

  Let go, son. Let me take it.

  John stumbled backward, and someone lifted the spotlight from his shoulder. He turned, staring into Sam’s eyes. Did he know? John lurched sideways and looked around. Christy sat on a bench, next to the table with the sound system. Her eyes met his, compassion spilling forth. Did they know what he’d done? How he’d failed those he loved?

  His legs were not going to hold him much longer. Christy moved over, and he dropped onto the bench, leaning forward, putting his head in his hands, fighting the overwhelming pain. He could hear Christy’s whispered prayer although specific words were unclear. She laid her hand on his back, and electricity shot through him. He jerked at the shock and began to sob.

  It didn’t matter who knew anymore. The only thing that mattered was the pain washing through him and out of him like a flood. The thought came again—how could he forgive himself? And he realized that God—the God he’d held in such contempt—was making a way.

  Jesus came to heal the brokenhearted, to set the captives free. And he had been captive—of his own pain and anger and guilt.

  ~.~.~

  The singing ended, and silence hung over the field. Then in joyous appreciation, people began to clap and praise God. Sharee stood next to the bleachers, tears flowing, joy bubbling from within. She held any other thought back for a minute, wanting just to worship. Thankfulness washed over her. She stood still and reveled in his presence. The God of the universe stepping out of heaven, as John had said before, doing a miracle for them.

  John. She glanced up at the control tower, the ache awakening in her chest.

  People began to file down the bleachers, talking, laughing. Many had come from Downtown Ministries, many from the neighborhood. They filed past her, and she smiled at each one. Lynn and the others waited in the fellowship hall for the influx of hungry people. Someone told her how wonderful and blessed they felt, and Sharee pointed to heaven. She watched the bleachers empty, watched the actors and singers in the middle of the field move around hugging each other.

  Everyone had done a great job. Even Ted Hogan, playing Herod, proved outstanding. Bruce, coming at the last minute, shined as one of Herod’s chief priests.

  She glanced up again at the control tower and hesitated. John always came down last, but neither Sam nor Christy had descended yet. She leaned against a section of the bleachers, waiting, embracing the warmth in her heart. At last, she pushed away from the support and began to walk toward the platform. Was something wrong?

  She mounted the first few steps. Voices drifted across the field again, raised, nervous. The anxious tones stopped her. Something had changed. With her hand on the eighth rung, she turned and stared at the center of the star. Toward Bethlehem. Someone ran her way.

  Sharee clung to the ladder, waiting, heart suspended.

  The girl ran straight to her.

  “Mary, what is it?” Sharee called even before the girl reached her.

  Mary grabbed hold of the ladder, head back, looking up. “Mom can’t find Joshua. She’s looked everywhere and can’t find him.” The girl sucked in air. “He was in the manger while we sang, but no one knows where he is. Ms. J, he’s gone!”

  Chapter 28

  How many people does it take to find a baby?

  Sharee sent up the desperate plea to God. Her exhaustion and discouragement were compounded by the cold, wet night. She shivered, splaying the flashlight’s beam over the trees and underbrush in front of her. When the Sheriff’s deputies arrived, they’d questioned Marci and the others before searching the church grounds and this deserted piece of land next to it. She, John, and Lynn, were combing the area again, and through the darkness, the flashlights of other searchers bounced off scrub pines and palmettos and wild holly. Hundreds of volunteers had arrived since the Amber Alert had gone out.

  She leaned a shaking hand against a tree. They’d put out the Amber Alert even though they didn’t know the perpetrator. The situation, they said, looked dire.

  When K-9 units arrived, she’d pinned her hopes on the dogs; but the perpetrator had outsmarted them. The dogs tracked the baby to the back part of the field and then the scent vanished.

  Lynn and John had stopped next to her. Sounds from other searchers echoed through the darkness. Their lights and voices and the moonlight imparted an unreal feeling to the area.

  She raised her arm into the flashlight’s narrow wash of light and looked at her watch. Eight hours since Joshua’s disappearance. She glanced back. The Christmas lights from the enormous six-pointed star mocked her as well as the floodlights filling that area. Peace on Earth, good will to men? Would there be any peace until they found Joshua?

  Sharee closed her eyes, and the image of the first mutilated doll burst across her mind. She jerked, eyes flying open and tried to keep her balance on muddy ground. John grabbed her arm. A moment later, he caught a wet branch as it snapped back at them. Cold rain splattered their faces.

  Sharee tugged her arm free, wiped the rain from her eyes and glanced his way. John rubbed a hand across his face and met her look, but she ducked her head. Too much pain there. Too much pain everywhere.

  Ted’s voice drifted back to them. “Sorry.”

  Thank God Ted had joined them a little while ago; they needed all the help they could get. She started forward again, stepping over the undergrowth, avoiding the vines that twisted upward, grabbing anything in their way.

  A quick gasp from behind caught her attention, and she glanced over her shoulder. Lynn’s gunmetal quilted parka glistened with moisture, and mud covered her stylis
h high-heeled boots. The blonde hair hung soaked and dripping, except for one strand caught in a long-fingered branch. Lynn yanked it free.

  “You okay?” Sharee shoved her own wet hair away from her face then clutched her arms to her chest. The jeans and sweatshirt she wore offered no better protection than Lynn’s clothing.

  “I’m okay. I just...” She stared past Sharee’s shoulders, and her eyes widened.

  Sharee jerked around, shooting the flashlight’s beam across dark foliage in front of her. Lights and faces floated, ghostlike, among the trees. John swung his tactical flash in that direction. Pastor Alan and others from the church put up arms to shield their eyes from his light, and he dropped its beam to the ground.

  “We’re going in for a while,” Pastor Alan said. “Come with us.”

  Ted appeared next to the others. “Are you crazy? We can’t stop now.”

  “We’re not quitting, but it’s been a long night. We all need a break and something warm.”

  “Go ahead.” Ted’s voice hardened. “I’m staying.”

  The pastor waved at the three other people with him. “Go ahead. I’ll come with you. We’re not giving up, Ted. Daybreak’s an hour away, and we’ll be able to see then.” His glance met Sharee’s and jumped to Lynn. He frowned and sent a look John’s way before following the others.

  The edge of John’s light caught her before she could straighten. It moved and trapped Lynn in its glare. “Alan’s right. You’re both done in. We could use a break.”

  “Go in if you want, Jergenson.” Ted waved his light at him. “I got here later than the rest of you, anyway. I’m staying.”

  “You can’t stay.” Sharee heard the exhaustion in her voice and grimaced. “The deputy told us to stay in groups. If we go in, you have to come.”

  “I don’t care what he said.”

  “They don’t want anyone out here by themselves.”

  “Too bad.”

  “They wondered where you were earlier, Ted. This will be suspicious. They’re not playing.”

  Ted muttered under his breath and disappeared back into the brush. John shook his head, flipped his light to the path back and nodded at Sharee.

  “Let’s head in.”

  Sharee sighed and helped Lynn around a patch of mud. The strength to argue had disappeared.

  When they reached the open field near the church, Sharee saw other groups sitting on the bleachers.

  “Can’t we go in?” Lynn’s words escaped through chattering teeth.

  “I wonder if they’re using the fellowship hall as a command center or something.” Sharee dropped onto the nearby bleachers. “Pastor Alan’s not here. He probably went to check things out.”

  Lynn eased down near her, snuggling down into her parka.

  Sharee stared at the lights from the enormous star. If she hadn’t insisted on the Christmas program, if she hadn’t allowed Joshua to be baby Jesus, if she hadn’t gone through with the whole thing, Joshua would be here now. She shoved wet curls from her face.

  How could this happen, Lord? How? Her body trembled.

  John lowered himself beside her. She avoided his eyes and his scrutiny and stared down at her folded hands. He feather-touched her back. She swallowed, resisting the urge to turn to him, to bury her face against his shoulder.

  After a moment, he straightened, and she followed his gaze to the second set of bleachers. Ryann Byrd, surrounded by some other teens, huddled on the top row. She’d acted in the program tonight, but how had the baby’s kidnapping affected her?

  Sharee noticed another figure at the far end of the bleachers. Deputy Richards stood, feet spread and arms crossed. He stared at Ryann and the group surrounding her. His brow wrinkled. Then he turned, his gaze flickering past each huddled group until they reached Sharee. He looked from her to John and back, and in the light from the Christmas star, she saw his eyes narrow.

  ~.~.~

  John bent his head, listening. Sharee’s whispered prayer sounded like scripture.

  “…hear my cry, O God, attend unto my prayer, from the ends of the earth, I will cry unto you… make haste to help us, O Lord. Make haste…

  He raised his eyes and watched the first softening in the sky. Morning was close, and he was glad. The long night’s search had proved fruitless. They needed daylight.

  He tilted his head in Sharee’s direction. “It’s not your fault.”

  She jerked erect on the bleachers. “How can it not be? It was my idea. This whole thing.” She swung her hand out to the Christmas set-ups.

  “You can’t blame yourself.”

  “We knew about those dolls. I knew someone wanted to get Marci. When Marci asked about Joshua, I should have said no.”

  “Sharee, no matter what you thought, you couldn’t have known. We couldn’t have known. The police knew about the dolls, too, remember? No one had any idea this might happen.”

  “John, what if…”

  She didn’t finish, but he knew what she thought. “Where is your faith when you need it?” He touched her face, pushing the damp curls back.

  “I don’t know. I’m so scared for Joshua. And God’s presence was here—at least, I thought so—last night, during the program.”

  “It was.”

  “But how could this happen?”

  “I don’t know.” He had no answers—none for his own situation, none for hers. Something inside him had changed, though. He’d come out of a tunnel of darkness, the hardness across his shoulders had lifted. Should he tell her? With all that was happening, he couldn’t. Not now.

  She made an abrupt move, twisted toward him, and buried her face against his shoulder. He raised his hand and caressed her hair as she cried. Lord, help her.

  Even if he wanted to explain what had happened last night, could he? He focused on God. This child, Lord. Bring this child back safe and unharmed. Your hand is not shortened, you said…then, Lord, save him. I will serve you again. I will give you my life…for his.

  He tightened his arm around Sharee’s shoulders and bent and kissed the top of her head.

  ~.~.~

  An hour later, Sharee watched the steam rise from her coffee and sighed. How had she let herself fall apart like that? John had left when they said the fellowship hall was open. He wanted to talk with Alan, he said. She wouldn’t think of his tenderness. Couldn’t.

  Someone must have given permission for the searchers to come into the hall. Here and there other people sat. Ornaments still decorated the tables for the celebration of the Christmas program. She tried not to sigh again.

  Across the table, Lynn added more vanilla crème to her cup. She passed it to Sharee. “Have some?”

  “No. But thank you for waiting with me. They don’t seem in a hurry.”

  Deputy Richards had come over a few moments before to let her know the detectives wanted to talk with her again.

  Lynn made a grumbling noise. She had combed her hair and fixed her makeup. Sharee felt the first small smile in hours lift her mouth. If she could see herself in a mirror…

  “Why do they want to talk to you?” Lynn stirred her coffee. “They’ve asked each of us the same questions a zillion times.”

  “I don’t know.” She caught sight of Deputy Richards making his way through the scattered tables. She stood and leaned closer to Lynn. “But I guess I’ll find out. Go home, friend, and get some rest.”

  “Like you’re really going to go home.”

  “When the rest of us fall out, we’ll need a second shift.”

  “I’ll think about it.”

  Sharee turned to the deputy. “I’m ready.” She didn’t know what made her do it, maybe the whole weight of what had happened needed lightening, but she held out her hands crossed at the wrists as if he would handcuff her.

  He frowned, but Lynn chuckled, and he glanced her way. A spark of amusement showed in the blue eyes.

  “We’ve set aside another room,” he said to Shar
ee. “If you’ll follow me.”

  When she stepped inside the former youth room, she threw a quick glance around it. Someone had pulled chairs from the stacks along the wall and added two card tables against the nearest wall. One of the detectives waved her to a chair at the closest table. Another detective sat at the other table, a notebook resting on his knee.

  Sharee sat. “This is my third time.”

  The man grunted, and Deputy Richards leaned against the second table. He crossed his arms over his chest. Already, coffee cups littered the table’s surface.

  “We’d like to go over some things, Ms. Jones.” The older detective ran a hand through thick red hair. His look of exhaustion mimicked her own. “Tell us again why you decided to have a manger built for the last building.”

  “Marci wanted to share with the audience about Jesus. And she felt it would be easier if she didn’t have Joshua to hold.”

  The detectives glanced at each other. “Okay. What do you know about Ted Hogan and his relationship to Marci Thornton?”

  Sharee pulled her head back. “There isn’t one on her part. Ted’s imagination, though, is…lively.”

  The detective in the corner scribbled in a small notebook; the other shifted in his seat, watching her. His red hair mirrored the coloring in his face.

  “Hogan stated that Mrs. Thornton is depressed. In fact, it’s his contention that she never wanted this child in the first place, that this idea of having so many children was not hers at all but her husband’s. Is that true?”

  Sharee remembered the detective’s name now. O’Shay. Detective O’Shay. “Ted said that to me, Detective, but it’s not true. At least, not to my knowledge.”

  “You don’t think Marci Thornton is depressed?”

  “She might be, but many women are after having a baby—from exhaustion and hormone imbalances. Baby blues, they call it. You’ve heard of it, surely.”

  The detective’s eyes narrowed. “What can you tell us about the accident that killed a child and crippled Bruce Tomlin?

  Sharee’s chin dropped. “Who told you about that? And what does it have to do with anything?”