by Delia Latham
****
Clay phoned Julie later that morning and asked her to hang around the office until he showed up to get Destiny. He locked the door behind the young assistant, then peeked into Destiny’s inner sanctum.
“Mon cherie.”
She sat cross-legged on the floor with several file folders scattered around her. At his quiet greeting, she looked up and grinned. “You’re beginning to sound like a certain Frenchman we both know.”
“Just shoot me now!” They both laughed, and Clay eyed the uncharacteristic mess of papers on the floor. “Looks like a small tornado passed through here.”
“Yeah. Tornado Teeni.” She patted a semi-empty space beside her. “I’m playing detective. Are you in a hurry?”
He lowered himself to the floor at her side. “No, take your time. What are all these files?”
“I’ve been trying to figure out which of my Seekers might have an association with—with him.” With a pensive expression she picked up the closest folder. “I narrowed it down to a dozen people, based on their application information as well as my notes from the interviews. Then—” She hesitated.
“What?”
Meeting his curious gaze, Destiny raised her chin. “Then I prayed over each one.”
When he first met Destiny, Clay would have thought talking to God about the contents of a file folder a ridiculous waste of time. But something had changed since then, and now the idea seemed perfectly natural, even advisable—and certainly admirable.
“Of course you did. And…?”
She held up the folder on her lap. “You can believe this or not, but when I picked up this file today, a jolt, like…well, a bit like electricity…shot up my arm.”
Whoa! Prayer is a good thing, I can give her that much. But can I give her this?
His hesitation did not deter her. “It’s OK, I know it’s hard to believe.” She shrugged, and raised a shapely brow. “I didn’t believe it, either. I laid it aside and focused on several more before returning to this one. And when I picked it up…as God is my witness, it happened again.”
He drew a deep breath. “OK. Let’s just say that…jolt is something other than lack of circulation. Want to tell me whose file you’ve got there?”
Destiny nodded thoughtfully. “Her name is Karyn Peters.” She squirmed, seeming a bit uncomfortable with the discussion. “In order for you to understand everything, you have to know that it’s standard practice for me to take each application to God, right at the beginning, when they first sign up at Solomon’s Gate. I do it every day.”
She stood and stretched first one leg, then the other. A heartfelt groan told him she’d been in the same cramped position too long. Finally she walked behind the desk and lowered herself into a big leather chair, easily the most expensive item in the office.
Clay unfolded his own large frame off the floor, and leaned against the wall. “That’s great, but I’m not surprised. You’ve never made any secret of the fact that prayer is a big part of your life. I admire that.”
“I only told you about it because…well, after I got zapped twice—” She gave a rueful roll of her eyes. “—I remembered the day Karyn turned in her application, and I vividly recalled what I said to God that night.”
Clay only recently started praying at all. Though he felt much more in touch with his spiritual side than he had in years, he still had a long ways to go to reach Destiny’s degree of comfort with talking to God. Hearing her speak of having conversations with the Almighty as if He were a close and dearly beloved Friend made him hungry for more. He found himself wanting the kind of relationship Destiny had with her Creator.
“What—” He cleared his throat, which had gone dry and tight. “What did you say to Him?”
Destiny picked up a fancy glass bottle off her desk and toyed with it as she spoke. “I used the oil in this bottle to anoint the applications. I do that every night. I also prayed individually for each new Seeker, but that’s a nightly ritual, as well.” Pausing, she drew a deep breath. “But when I came to Karyn’s application, the words I used were different. I’ve never prayed over any other Seeker exactly as I did for Karyn Peters.” She raised her head and looked into his eyes. Clay got the feeling she weighed him in the balance once again, and if she saw even a hint of doubt, she would stop and not continue.
“Go on,” he urged her gently. “Different how?”
She sucked in a lungful of air and blew it back out before answering. “I prayed for her safety. Now I know this sounds crazy, since it’s been weeks ago, but I remember my exact words, Clay! The ones that mattered, that make me think Karyn is somehow connected with this man, were—” She held up both hands and wiggled her fingers to indicated quotations. “—I pray Your safety over this precious woman as she seeks ‘him whom her soul loveth.’”
Clay sat silent for a moment after she stopped speaking. When he looked up, he met her eyes squarely and held out a hand. “I’d like a look at that file, if you don’t mind.”
Destiny's Dream
15
Curled up on a comfy lounge chair on the shady Clevenger lawn, Destiny sneaked a peek at her sister. For once, Jenna wasn’t scolding or pointing out Destiny’s shortcomings. She appeared genuinely concerned. Her sister might have strayed from her religious upbringing in some ways, but she obviously still remembered the awesome power of prayer.
“What are you going to do about it, Teeni? Is Clay looking into Karyn Peters’s background?”
Destiny nodded, her eyes on the twins. Dressed in a couple of their mother’s old dresses and pumps, and wearing hats Jenna had kept from Mama’s closet, they sat across from each other at a child-sized table under the patio. Jenna had provided them with a small pitcher of iced tea and a plate of sandwiches cut into fancy shapes. Sometimes Destiny longed to be their age again, and to have no bigger joy or headache than entertaining her younger siblings.
A loud snap of Jenna’s fingers, accompanied by a shrill whistle, brought Destiny back to the moment. “Hey! Stay with me, here. You OK?” Jenna grinned but concern tinged her voice.
“Yeah, I’m fine. And yes, Clay is using his ‘resources’—whatever that means—to find out what he can about Karyn and anyone who’s ever been involved with her.” She paused and drew a haggard breath. “I feel guilty using the confidential information in her file for this purpose, but I really can’t think of another way.”
Jenna shrugged and made a wry face. “Well, I guess you could just ask her.”
“Ask her what? If she knows some guy whose name I don’t even know, and whose description I can’t give her?” Destiny shaded her eyes against the glare of the sun as she eyed her sister.
“Hmmm. You’ve got a point. But you could ask her if she knows of anyone who might not like what you’re doing.”
“Yeah, I suppose I could do that. But think about it. My reasons for suspecting the caller is connected to Karyn are not exactly viable. They wouldn’t stand up in a court of law, if you know what I mean.”
Jenna nodded and heaved a sigh. “I suppose you’re right. Even for someone who had the same Bible-lovin’ little Mama you had, it’s hard to swallow. Not that I don’t believe you…” She hurried to explain. “It’s just that sometimes God’s way of doing things still bowls me over, even after all these years.”
“To say nothing of the fact that you haven’t been to His house in…how long, Jen?” Destiny spoke gently, allowing not even a hint of censure to color her voice. “I miss you in the family row.”
Jenna’s cheeks pinkened. “I know. I’m just so busy all the time, Teeni. I still consider myself a Christian. It’s just hard to fit church into my crazy schedule.”
“Believe me, I know how hectic your life is, but…” She hesitated, concerned for her sister, but having no desire to offend her. “Well, I’m not pointing fingers, you know that. But have you ever thought that things might be less chaotic and stressful if you made time for God first? I mean, you said it—you had the same mother I
did, so you know where He’s supposed to be on your To-Do list. Right up there at the top.”
To her surprise, Jenna’s face crumpled and her eyes flooded with sudden tears. She allowed them to stream down her face unheeded. “I know. I think about it all the time. I just don’t know how to turn things around. My life is so far out of control I can’t even imagine where to start.”
Destiny hurried to her sister’s side, where she knelt and wrapped both arms around her. Tears overflowed her own eyes as Jenna cried in her arms.
“Start on your knees, Jen,” she whispered. “Always start on your knees.”
****
Clay dropped the receiver into its cradle and slammed one fist into his other hand. “Yes!”
All week he had been trying to find out something—anything—about Karyn Peters’s associates. It was Friday already, and this was the first inkling of success he’d had. It wasn’t much, just the names of a few men she’d dated in the past year. Still it could be something.
He thought about calling Destiny, but a glance at the clock told him it was almost noon. With a grin, he decided to just drop in on her. Maybe she could be convinced to join him for lunch.
As he drove to Solomon’s Gate, he thought about their trip to Destiny’s place the night before. She was itching to go home for good, but he had convinced her to finish out the week at his mother’s house. Her reluctant agreement came with a quiet insistence to pick up a few extra pieces of clothing. She also wanted to check her home phone for more threatening messages.
He stood with one arm around her shoulders as she listened. When no gravel-voiced threats came forth, he felt the tension drain from her body. Once more, he fought the urge to hit something.
He wasn’t surprised by the lack of messages. “I really don’t think he’s going to leave anything that can be used as evidence, which is exactly what a recording would be.” He watched her clear the message cache. “Not if he’s smart. Most people are aware that the police can do amazing things nowadays if they have a voice on tape.”
“That’s true,” she conceded. “But I can hope he’s lost interest. Maybe he was angry because someone he had his eye on found a date with us. Or he could just be some kind of fanatic with no real idea what a dating service is all about. I want to believe I’ll never hear from him again.”
Clay pulled her close and rested his chin on the top of her head. “I want to believe it, too,” he murmured. “I really do.”
But something told him it would be a dangerous self-deception.
Still, he mused as he approached her office now, maybe Destiny had a point. A whole week had passed, and no boogeymen had slipped through the woodwork. Maybe it really was a prank caller, and he was tormenting someone else now.
He parked next to Destiny’s car and strode toward the office, grinning in anticipation. How could one feisty redhead make him feel like a love-struck high school kid?
A dour-faced man with a toolbox dangling from one hand passed him on the way in, rolling his eyes at Clay’s pleasant nod of greeting. The blatant rebuff only served to broaden Clay’s smile. Guess I can’t expect the whole world to be in—well, shall we say, “very strong like,” just because I am.
Pushing open the door, he noted the tinkle of the entry bell as he glanced toward Julie’s desk. But the perky blonde wasn’t at her post, and Destiny’s office door was closed. Either of those things alone wouldn’t be unusual, but he found it a bit odd that Destiny would close her door with Julie out of the office. Who would take care of customers?
The door to the supply room stood open, and he felt a surge of unwarranted relief. Julie must be seeing to something in there. Three long strides took him to the doorway, and he peeked around with a playful grin, expecting to startle the pretty assistant. Judging by her failure to appear, she must not have heard the bell.
The grin melted from his face when he found the room empty. Staring into the dimly lit area, a dark wave of foreboding washed over him, seizing his heart in a painful, vice-like grip. He whirled and rushed to Destiny’s door, certain it would be locked.
But the knob turned easily in his hand.
“Destiny?” Clay’s voice was loud in the dim office, and his heartbeat thundered in his ears. Running his fingers over the wall beside the doorframe, he found a switch, flipped it upward and gazed into the room.
Propped side by side against the desk, Destiny and Julie stared back at him through mutually terrified eyes. Ropes circled their wrists and ankles, and the ends of none-too-clean cloths hung from their stuffed mouths. Their heads rested together, as if to glean strength from one another.
“Oh, dear God!” Clay prayed even as he hurried across the room, his eyes frantically searching for signs of injury. No blood. That was a good thing. Kneeling beside Destiny, his breath caught in his throat.
The girls’ heads were together through no choice of their own. Someone had knotted a thick strand of Destiny’s auburn hair into a lock of Julie’s blonde tresses, and tied both around a piece of paper. He recognized the ivory parchment of Solomon’s Gate letterhead, rolled up like some kind of ghastly certificate.
White hot anger roiled within him and he quickly removed the gags from their mouths.
“Are either of you hurt?”
“No.” Julie’s reply was too soft, and followed by a deluge of tears.
“We’re both OK.” Destiny sounded more mad than scared.
Heaving a sigh of profound relief, Clay set to work, first unknotting the silken strands of hair with trembling fingers that slowed his progress. “Thank God! I’ll have you both free in a moment, girls. Just hang in there.”
Destiny's Dream
16
“I am not closing the office!”
Seething with anger, Destiny glared at Clay. “I closed my doors this afternoon only because Officer Chandler asked me to, so they could dust for fingerprints or whatever it is they do in this type of situation. Besides, poor Julie….” She paused and swallowed back a sob. Guilt at the younger girl’s involvement in the terrifying ordeal threatened to overcome her. “But I will not give some psychopathic jerk the satisfaction of seeing my doors close because of him! That’s exactly what he wants me to do.”
The dark letters scrawled on the letterhead Clay had worked free from hers and Julie’s hair spelled out in crude, but no uncertain terms: Lock the door and throw away the key. Or else.
The terrifying event had thrown a wrench in her plan to return home that night. She found herself once more entrenched in Claire’s home, and grateful for the older woman’s hospitality.
She shuddered, reliving the awful moment of revelation when the intruder shoved Julie through the office door. The girl’s hands were bound and a cloth stuffed in her mouth. But it was the small, deadly-looking gun pointed at her assistant’s temple that made Destiny’s blood run like an icy stream in her veins.
“Don’t hurt her.” To her own surprise, her voice stayed steady, though her entire body shook. “I’ll do whatever you want, just don’t hurt her!”
“Get up, Miss May. And keep yer hands where I can see ‘em.” The familiar raspy voice, laced now with icy contempt, chilled her to the bone. Not bothering with any attempt to placate him, she obeyed, standing to her feet in desperate obedience. He tossed a length of narrow rope in her direction, and she caught it.
A none-too-gentle shove sent Julie sprawling to the floor in front of Destiny’s desk. At her muffled cry, the intruder’s lips curled derisively. “Tie her ankles.” His scathing glance was directed at Destiny.
She hesitated, her mind grasping for another choice.
“Do it now!” His tone brooked no argument, and a pointed shake of the weapon cemented his unwelcome authority. “‘Less you want me to use this thing.”
“No!” She knelt under his watchful eye, and began to wind the rope around Julie’s slender ankles, her eyes meeting the terrified girl’s in mute apology, even as she directed her words to the intruder. “Don’t shoot.�
� Dear God, do something! Only You can help us.
“That’s more like it, missy. Now you just git right down there next to your friend.”
“It’ll be OK, Julie.” Settling herself onto the floor, Destiny covered the younger woman’s bound hands with one of her own, leaning close to whisper in her ear. “God is with us.”
“Shut up!” Their captor used his foot to shove Destiny’s hand from Julie’s. “Don’t touch and don’t talk. Got it?” He pinned her beneath an icy blue stare. “Can’t you ever mind yer own business? Never mind, I see that’cha don’t. Always gotta be puttin’ in where it ain’t none o’ yer concern.”
Destiny clamped her mouth shut. Every word he spoke seemed to feed his fury. She didn’t dare risk fueling that dangerous rage any further. Instead, she prayed in silence as he tied her ankles and wrists. Finally he pulled another piece of dirty cloth from his toolbox and crumpled it in his hands, dousing her hope that he wouldn’t gag her. She had wanted to be able to scream for help.
He appeared to enjoy stuffing the smelly rag into her mouth with unnecessary roughness. “Someone should’a done this a long time ago, then maybe ya wouldn’t be so quick to tell folks who they ought and ought not to be with.”
Trying not to gag at the foul odor and taste of the grimy cloth, Destiny felt the jerky tremors from Julie’s body. What would become of the two of them? She sent up another silent, desperate prayer, aware of the added danger imposed by the gag in her friend’s mouth. Please calm her, Father. Don’t let her strangle.
After shutting and latching his toolbox, the man stood and looked down at them. Thin, sandy blond hair, parted precisely in the middle, brushed the collar of his blue chambray shirt. A long, narrow nose came to a cartoonish point over thin, tight lips. Looming over them as he was, he seemed tall, but Destiny realized he was average height. In fact, everything about this man was quite ordinary. Other than that comical nose, she could find not a single mark or characteristic that would make him easily identifiable.
