Amber Morn

by Brandilyn Collins

  John shut the door and pocketed the key. He looked around, admiring all the handiwork. Nodding his head. Bailey squeezed his arm.

  She checked the wall clock — one of her possessions that had survived the conflict without a scratch. Eight forty-five. In fifteen minutes everyone would be gathering.

  Bailey walked around the counter to start her preparations. John followed, stooping down to check that the wrapped box still lay on its shelf. S-Man’s new pen, recovered from Main Street, had managed to find its way back into John’s hands. He’d saved it for this day.

  John straightened. “Amazing that he’ll get to sign those contracts with this after all.”

  “Can’t wait to see him do it.”

  The publisher of Starfire had sent new copies of the contract after hearing the first batch had been scattered by bullets. S-Man could have signed them days ago but asked if the publisher wouldn’t mind waiting until this morning. No problem, came the reply. Plans for Book One were forging ahead in the meantime. In fact, the publisher was even more excited. Star-fire had received national attention through news accounts of the attack on Java Joint. The publisher now believed it would sell more copies than ever. An “early buzz,” they called it.

  At nine o’clock the gang started arriving. By nine fifteen Java Joint flowed with voices, laughter, some tears — and coffee. All the Scenes and Beans bloggers were there except Angie, who was recuperating after surgery. Bailey knew David had hardly left her side since the triple bypass — in the hospital and once she got home. “He’s a great nurse,” Angie told her over the phone. “I’ve decided he’ll make a great husband too.”

  Bailey had slapped a hand to her heart. She knew it!

  Carla brought Scott Cambry to the party — Brittany’s biological father, who was visiting from his home in Washington. Even as Bailey foamed their drinks — Carla’s usual latte and a caramel mocha for Scott — she watched them from the corner of her eye. There was another couple she sensed was headed in the right direction.

  After all these years, wouldn’t that be something, God. The surprises you come up with.

  Vince and Nancy Edwards had been invited, as well as Roger and Camille Waitman. Jim and Al were on duty. Frank was recovering from his bullet wounds and surgery. He was out of the hospital and now expected to heal completely, but it would be a long process. Like David with Angie, Paige had spent a lot of time at Frank’s bedside.

  “How are you, Vince?” Bailey asked as she poured him coffee in a biggie cup. Nancy was across the room, talking to Pastor Hank and Janet. Vince’s regular drink was the same as Wilbur’s — black, no sugar. Bailey looked deep into his eyes, signaling she wanted an honest answer.

  Surprise flicked across Vince’s face. “I’m okay.”

  “You sure? ‘Cause you don’t fool me. Calm as you look on the outside, I know these things weigh on you as much as anybody.”

  He drew a long breath. “Yeah. But that’s okay. Keeps me praying.”

  “I understand that. Me too.”

  “And how are you?”

  Bailey pulled her top lip between her teeth. “Better. The nightmares are gone. Like you say, prayer helps. In fact, prayer is everything.” Her vision blurred. “We could have lost so many people this time, Vince. We came so close. But we didn’t. Not a one.”

  His jaw moved back and forth. “I know.” He picked up his drink. “Thank God.”

  She swallowed. “Thank God.”

  Bailey thought of John’s part in the trauma but said nothing. It had all been said. John had apologized a dozen times for visiting the Wicksell house. He could have gotten someone in Java Joint killed. Nearly did. But he also saved Frank.

  Leslie sidled up to Vince, nursing a biggie latte in her right hand and holding out her left, fingers pointed down. “Seen it yet?”

  Vince smiled, and his face softened. “No. But I sure heard about it enough. Let me get a gander at this rock.” He grasped her hand, pulling it close to examine the half-carat diamond. “Wow. Bet that’s being paid for out of advance money.”

  She grinned. “Yeah, when he finally gets the check. Signing the contracts will help.” She flicked a look at the ceiling. “Right now it’s on credit.”

  After all the trauma, Leslie had postponed leaving for her new job in Seattle until next week — plenty of time for S-Man to find the right ring. No wedding date yet — but that would be decided soon.

  Bev sidled up to the counter next to the third stool, occupied by Jake. “Have time to make my drink now, Bailey?”

  That would be a biggie latte. “You bet.”

  “See how I beat you here, woman?” Wilbur leaned around Jake to mug at Bev. “Didn’t trust you not to take my new stool.”

  Jake hitched his shoulders. “Don’t blame ya.” He’d heard about the stool-stealing escapade. He pulled his ever-present red baseball cap lower over his big ears.

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Wilbur.” Bev hefted her chin in disapproval. “You act like some king sitting there. As if all our troubles haven’t taught you there are more important things in life.”

  He raised his gray eyebrows with a regal stare. “Who says I ain’t king?”

  Jake chuckled.

  She huffed. “Well, at least you won’t be the only one in here with a scar on your chest. Once Angie feels good enough to come back, hers will be newer than yours.”

  Wilbur folded his arms. “You really think she’s gonna go ‘round showing it, woman?”

  Bev’s mouth opened, then closed. She made a point of turning away as her powdered cheeks flushed.

  Wilbur shot Jake a victorious look and wagged his head.

  Bailey poured Bev’s drink and fitted it with a plastic lid. “Wilbur, all I can say is — it’s a good thing Trudy didn’t come after you with that frying pan. Things just wouldn’t be the same around here.”

  He hunched over the counter. “Don’t think she ain’t tried a few times.”

  “That’s whatcha get for wantin’ to be a hero.” Jake lifted his coffee cup. “You’d-a gone on a trip that weekend, your wife would be kissin’ on you all day.”

  Wilbur’s mouth twitched. “Don’t think she ain’t done that too.”

  Bailey looked across the café, checking to see who hadn’t been served. Carla, Scott, and Paige were laughing with Sarah, who was brightly dressed as usual — today in bold yellow. It was so good to see Paige smile again. Sarah’s left arm was out of the sling, but Bailey could tell it still gave her pain. All four of them held drinks.

  Her gaze fell on Jared Moore. He was talking to Roger and John.

  “Jared!”

  He turned toward her. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Ready for your drink?” She smiled. “You’re the last one.”

  “You bet.”

  Bailey caught John’s eye and motioned with her head. He excused himself from the trio and walked over, coffee cup in hand.

  Wilbur and Jake leaned in, always ready to eavesdrop. “You two.” She feigned a stern look in their direction.

  As John reached the counter, she pulled the gift box from the shelf underneath. “I’ve got one more latte.” She handed John the present.

  He winked at her.

  Two minutes later John’s voice boomed through the café. “Okay, everybody, time to gather at the counter. I hear S-Man has some contracts to sign.”

  “Yahoo!” Leslie crowed.

  Ted looked around. “Let’s do it.” He was trying to keep his poker face, but Bailey could see the smile brush his lips. He picked his black computer case off a table and pulled out the contracts. Held them high.

  “Come on over here and have a seat.” John plunked the present on the counter near the first stool. “You need to open this before you sign.”

  “All right.” Ted started unwrapping the gift.

  “Whatd’ya say, S-Man?” Jake grinned, knowing the answer.

  He tossed the paper aside and opened the box. “I say wuchak, rikoyoch.”

  T
hanks, friends, in Saurian.

  He held up the pen. “Oh. Beautiful.” He smiled at John. “Thank you. It’s perfect.”

  Bailey started clapping as S-Man put pen to the first contract page. Leslie set down her drink and joined in. Everyone else did the same. Soon they were whooping and hollering as they applauded.

  This is where we were four weeks ago, Lord. And here we are again. By Your grace, dear Jesus. By Your grace.

  “Remember, it’s going to take awhile.” S-Man had to shout over the din. “I’ve got to initial every page and sign at the end — all three copies.”

  “Then we’ll clap a long time,” Paige cried. “Until you finish every one!”

  And they did.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  My deep gratitude once again to Tony Lamanna for his help with all of the police work issues in this story. In law enforcement since 1969, Tony is the former chief of police of Spirit Lake, Idaho, and now diligently serves as school resource officer in his own town of Priest Lake. He is a nationally certified hostage negotiator. Tony patiently answered months of questions about the complexity of negotiations, command posts, and the way SWAT teams work. If you found an error or simplification in Amber Morn, it was entirely my doing. Sometimes the pace of a story demands that not every detail be presented.

  Tony, I could not have written the Kanner Lake series without you.

  Thanks once again also to Stuart Stockton, aspiring science fiction novelist who has allowed me to use his manuscript, Star-fire, for S-Man. Stuart has also written all of the S-Man posts for the Scenes and Beans blog, which chronicle the creation of his Saurian world and his writing of the novel. I look forward to the day when Starfire is published.

  To Marilyn and Terry Cooper, owners of the real Simple Pleasures in Coeur d’Alene, Idaho, thank you again for allowing me to use your beautiful store in this series. Uh, sorry for the damage in this book. But I fixed it for you.

  Brink of Death

  Brandilyn Collins

  The noises, faint, fleeting, whispered into her consciousness like wraiths in the night.

  Twelve-year-old Erin Willit opened her eyes to darkness lit only by the dim green night-light near her closet door and the faint glow of a street lamp through her front window. She felt her forehead wrinkle, the fingers of one hand curl as she tried to discern what had awakened her.

  Something was not right…

  Annie Kingston moves to Grove Landing for safety and quiet — and comes face-to-face with evil.

  When neighbor Lisa Willet is killed by an intruder in her home, sheriff’s detectives are left with little evidence. Lisa’s daughter, Erin, saw the killer, but she’s too traumatized to give a description. The detectives grow desperate.

  Because of her background in art, Annie is asked to question Erin and draw a composite. But Annie knows little about forensic art or the sensitive interview process. A nonbeliever, she finds herself begging God for help. What if her lack of experience leads Erin astray? The detectives could end up searching for a face that doesn’t exist.

  Leaving the real killer free to stalk the neighborhood…

  Softcover: 0-310-25103-6

  Pick up a copy today at your favorite bookstore!

  Stain of Guilt

  Brandilyn Collins

  As I drew, the house felt eerie in its silence.… A strange sense stole over me, as though Bland and I were two actors on stage, our movements spotlighted, black emptiness between us. But that darkness grew smaller as the space between us shrank. I did not know if this sense was due to my immersion in Bland’s face and mind and world, or to my fear of his threatening presence.

  Or both…

  The nerves between my shoulder blades began to tingle.

  Help me, God. Please.

  For twenty years, a killer has eluded capture for a brutal double murder. Now, forensic artist Annie Kingston has agreed to draw the updated face of Bill Bland for the popular television show American Fugitive.

  To do so, Annie must immerse herself in Bland’s traits and personality. A single habitual expression could alter the way his face has aged. But as she descends into his criminal mind and world, someone is determined to stop her. At any cost. Annie’s one hope is to complete the drawing and pray it leads authorities to Bland — before Bland can get to her.

  Softcover: 0-310-25104-4

  Pick up a copy today at your favorite bookstore!

  Dead of Night

  Brandilyn Collins

  All words fell away. I pushed myself off the path, noticing for the first time the signs of earlier passage—the matted earth, broken twigs. And I knew. My mouth turned cottony.

  I licked my lips, took three halting steps. My maddening, visual brain churned out pictures of colorless faces on a cold slab—Debbie Lille, victim number one; Wanda Deminger, number three… He’d been here. Dragged this one right where I now stumbled. I’d entered a crime scene, and I could not bear to see what lay at the end.…

  This is a story about evil.

  This is a story about God’s power.

  A string of murders terrorizes citizens in the Redding, California, area. The serial killer is cunning, stealthy. Masked by day, unmasked by night. Forensic artist Annie Kingston discovers the sixth body practically in her own backyard. Is the location a taunt aimed at her?

  One by one, Annie must draw the unknown victims for identification. Dread mounts. Who will be taken next? Under a crushing oppression, Annie and other Christians are driven to pray for God’s intervention as they’ve never prayed before.

  With page-turning intensity, Dead of Night dares to pry open the mind of evil. Twisted actions can wreak havoc on earth, but the source of wickedness lies beyond this world. Annie learns where the real battle takes place — and that a Christian’s authority through prayer is the ultimate, unyielding weapon.

  Softcover: 0-310-25105-2

  Pick up a copy today at your favorite bookstore!

  Web of Lies

  Brandilyn Collins

  She was washing dishes when her world began to blur.

  Chelsea Adams hitched in a breath, her skin pebbling. She knew the dreaded sign all too well. God was pushing a vision into her consciousness.

  Black dots crowded her sight. She dropped a plate, heard it crack against the porcelain sink. Her fingers fumbled for the faucet. The hiss of water ceased.

  God, I don’t want this. Please!

  After witnessing a shooting at a convenience store, forensic artist Annie Kingston must draw a composite of the suspect. But before she can begin, she hears that Chelsea Adams wants to meet with her — now. Chelsea Adams — the woman who made national headlines with her visions of murder. And this vision is by far the most chilling.

  Chelsea and Annie soon find themselves snared in a terrifying battle against time, greed, and a deadly opponent. If they tell the police, will their story be believed? With the web of lies thickening, and lives ultimately at stake, who will know enough to stop the evil?

  Softcover: 0-310-25106-0

  Pick up a copy today at your favorite bookstore!

  Eyes of Elisha

  Brandilyn Collins

  The murder was ugly.

  The killer was sure no one saw him.

  Someone did.

  In a horrifying vision, Chelsea Adams has relived the victim’s last moments. But who will believe her? Certainly not the police, who must rely on hard evidence. Nor her husband, who barely tolerates Chelsea’s newfound Christian faith. Besides, he’s about to hire the man who Chelsea is certain is the killer to be a vice president in his company.

  Torn between what she knows and the burden of proof, Chelsea must follow God’s leading and trust him for protection. Meanwhile, the murderer is at liberty. And he’s not about to take Chelsea’s involvement lying down.

  Softcover: 0-310-23968-0

  Pick up a copy today at your favorite bookstore!

  Dread Champion

  Brandilyn Collins

  Chelsea Adam
s has visions. But they have no place in a courtroom.

  As a juror for a murder trial, Chelsea must rely only on the evidence. And this circumstantial evidence is strong — Darren Welk killed his wife.

  Or did he?

  The trial is a nightmare for Chelsea. The other jurors belittle her Christian faith. As testimony unfolds, truth and secrets blur. Chelsea’s visiting niece stumbles into peril surrounding the case, and Chelsea cannot protect her. God sends visions — frightening, vivid. But what do they mean? Even as Chelsea finds out, what can she do? She is helpless, and danger is closing in…

  Masterfully crafted, Dread Champion is a novel in which appearances can deceive and the unknown can transform the meaning of known facts. One man’s guilt or innocence is just a single link in a chain of hidden evil… and God uses the unlikeliest of people to accomplish His purposes.

  Softcover: 0-310-23827-7

  Pick up a copy today at your favorite bookstore!

  Cast a Road before Me

  Brandilyn Collins

  A course-changing event in one’s life can happen in minutes. Or it can form slowly, a primitive webbing splaying into fingers of discontent, a minuscule trail hardening into the sinewed spine of resentment. So it was with the mill workers as the heat-soaked days of summer marched on.