Shattered by Death (A Jo Oliver Thriller Book 2)

by Catherine Finger

  Praise for Catherine Finger

  Shattered by Death (Book 2)

  "A modern day 10 Little Indians by Agatha Christie, Shattered by Death is a rollercoaster of twists and turns that will lead you to a heart-stopping end. Catherine Finger is proving to be an author to note as up and coming." --Sandra Brannan, author of the Liv Bergen Suspense Series

  “In Shattered by Death, Catherine Finger takes us on a page-turning tale that keeps us riveted from beginning to end. With a crisp, clean writing style, Finger has crafted characters that stay with us long after we’ve finished the book. I can’t wait for another release from this stellar author, who has just joined my favorite writers’ list.” --Kathi Macias, author of more than fifty books, including Golden Scrolls 2011 Novel of the Year, Red Ink.

  Cleansed by Death (Book 1)

  "This skillfully crafted suspense story of a police chief tracking a serial killer will have you on the edge of your seat. Readers will root for Josie as she struggles to do the right thing, not only in her relationships, but as she searches for answers about God. Catherine Finger has crafted a feisty heroine in Chief Josie Oliver as well as a cast of fascinating support characters. Looking forward to Catherine's next book in the series." --Patricia Bradley, award winning author of Shadows of the Past

  "Move over Kinsey Malone, Josie is in the house! This police chief is not only a local leader, but respected throughout her community of coworkers, friends and good neighbors. She manages to overcome personal challenges while still putting the bad guy behind bars and reconciling her relationship with 'the magnificent being.'" --Elizabeth Martin Stearns, Waukegan Public Library

  "As a pastor, I rarely see characters in books or on screen who wrestle with God in a way that feels like what I see every day. Cleansed by Death is the rare exception, a world where spirituality is real but not easy, where the tragedies and triumphs of life work together to form a cohesive whole. I recommend it to anyone who has wrestled with God... and loves a good mystery!" --Gary Ricci, Pastor of New Hope Christian Community Church in Round Lake Heights, IL

  Copyright © 2016 Catherine Finger

  All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, scanning, or other—except for brief quotations in critical reviews or articles, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

  All Scripture quoted is from The Holy Bible, English Standard Version Copyright © 2001 by Crossway Bibles, a publishing ministry of Good News Publishers.

  Cover design by Bookfly Design LLC.

  Interior art by Chalfont House or in the public domain.

  Published in the United States of America by HopeSprings Books, an imprint of Chalfont House Publishing.

  www.HopeSpringsBooks.com

  www.ChalfontHouse.com

  Publisher’s Note: This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. All characters are fictional, and any similarity to people living or dead is purely coincidental.

  Paperback ISBN 9781938708749

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Discussion Questions

  About the Author

  My legs rolled out a rhythm of their own, commanding cross-country skis into one smooth glide after another through the quiet evening snow. A full moon glistened overhead. Samantha gave a happy cheer behind me, and I answered her with a girlish squeal of my own. My cheeks quivered with the force of the smile pouring across my face. I steered around a sharp corner and bent down into the wind, grabbing the snow with the tips of my poles to propel myself even faster down a short, steep hill. I slid to a stop and turned to watch Samantha’s descent.

  I cupped my hands and yelled encouragement to my little bundle of spunky joy. “Alright now! You go, girl!”

  She was a natural athlete. If everything went right and she was living with me full-time before June, I’d have to ask around to see if there were any camps I could enroll her in for the summer. She’d hate that, but it was a battle I was going to win. Just not tonight. Tonight we had the luxury of brilliant stars, a spectacular moon, and the noisy creatures of a perfect Wisconsin winter all to ourselves. Let the magic continue. Lord knew Samantha needed some magic in her life.

  Her little legs pumped hard, netting her an impressive burst of unnecessary speed.

  “Slow down, girl! You’re gonna wipe out!”

  I was new at all this and was beset with worry over the slightest things. What would a regular mom do? Is this normal? Do little kids take corners on cross-country skis at breakneck speed? Are you supposed to sit there and watch them as they flirt with danger, propelling themselves to a certain and gruesome death? How does the rest of the world even do this every day?

  “Watch me, Josie! Watch me!”

  I gasped as she leaned into the corner and flew gracefully down the hill. She was heading toward me at a pretty good clip, and there was only one set of tracks forged into fresh powder. Milliseconds before careening into me, she jumped sideways, both skis aloft, stopping on the snow beside me.

  Who taught her all that? She was a natural. I was going to have to find something more challenging than the four walls and three members of her current foster home between now and The Day if I was going to have any chance at all of harnessing her resilient, playful spirit.

  “Josie?” Her face was aflame with happiness, and she wasn’t winded at all.

  “Yes, darling?” My eyes teared up as I looked at her.

  “It’s just that, well…”

  Whatever fears swirled within, she was trying hard to share with me. Would I be successful at helping her banish them?

  “Is this about the court appearance next Thursday, sweetie?” She was nervous about the review. Heck, my own stomach was full of butterflies. We were about to go in front of a judge who had the power to declare something God had already whispered, boomed, and burned into my heart: Samantha was my daughter. There were just a few more legal hurdles to clear in the adoption process.

  What was she afraid of? Did she know something I didn’t?

  Lamb’s eyes moistened. She stared at me, fidgeting in silence.

  I stepped out of my skis and knelt beside her, sinking an inch or two into the
snow, until I connected with the earth. I would do anything to be that solid earth, that sense of safety, that strong foundation, for her. Lord God, pour out Your solid love through my hands, to her heart.

  “I love you, Samantha. I know this is scary… and wonderful at the same time. And I feel it too. Mostly what I feel is so very happy to have you in my life and to get to be your mom.” I kissed her cheek and drew her into a hug. Breathing in her beauty was my elixir. Thank you Mighty God. Thank you for my little miracle.

  Her little arms wrapped around my sides, and I almost missed the gift of her fear revealed. “My forever mom?”

  “Yes, darling. Your forever mom.”

  We finished the last half-mile of the trail side by side. I smiled up at the sky and thanked God for bringing this amazing child into my life. The Paradise County Department of Children and Family Services sponsored weekly outings for foster students and their families. With the adoption less than a month away, my heart fluttered at the thought of being able to bring Sam home to our house. This was one of the last times I’d have to watch her board a bus and head back to her foster “brothers and sisters.”

  I followed the bus back to Haversport, flashing the squad lights every now and then just to give Sam another reason to smile on the way home. The beauty of our time together carried me through the evening. Tomorrow morning’s schedule included what would no doubt be an unpleasant attorney conference call. One more mile to go before I sleep—and awaken to the new world of full-time motherhood.

  “Josephine, I’m sorry, but you married a bad man. A very bad man.” Andy’s voice whined over the phone. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what else to say.”

  I dragged my hand through my hair and gritted my teeth. Andy had been recommended as a divorce attorney with both brains and heart. It was important to me to be able to look back one day and not be ashamed of myself for falling into any crazy behavior. Over the years as a small town police chief, I’d seen enough of what people could turn into during the final throes of a bitter divorce. I’d wanted a divorce attorney with a conscience, one that could protect my interests—both financially and ethically. Now all I was getting was soaked. Daily. Be careful what you wish for.

  “Now what’s the creep want?”

  “You won’t want to hear this.” He lowered his pitch to a more or less tolerable level.

  “Yeah, so? What else is new? Hit me.” I clicked the envelope icon on my computer. My email snapped open.

  “That’s an unfortunate choice of words. He is hitting you. He’s hitting you up for another forty thousand dollars.” He rattled the last phrase off as if he’d planned to drop it and run.

  My stomach clenched, and I curled my palm around a ceramic mug on my desktop, soaking in the warmth of the coffee within. Squeaks and groans slipped out from my grinding teeth. “I don’t have another forty grand. I don’t have another forty bucks. You know that. I’m sick of getting pushed around. Tell the he-vamp no.”

  “Josephine…” Exasperation whiffled through Andy’s voice. He disapproved of the way I referred to my soon-to-be-ex-husband, Del, and his also-married-to-someone-else girlfriend. What did he want from me, a cutesy little Hollywood couple mash-up? ‘Delamra’? Too civilized. ‘The he-vamp’ was genteel enough. I shuddered. I’d broken my own rule of never thinking of both of their names at the same time. Good riddance. Tamra can have him. I guess.

  “He’s already taken everything. My marriage, our lake house, half of the equity in the house I’m sitting in, the remainder of which won’t be enough to pay for this phone call, and every last cent I have. And now he wants me to play dead and fork over another forty grand? He can go scratch.”

  I clicked an email at random. It was the verse of the day. John 12:25 popped up, the King James Version no less. I opened a browser and looked it up in a different translation. “Whoever loves his life loses it, and whoever hates his life in this world will keep it for eternal life.” Good grief. At this rate, I won’t make it to life eternal. I can’t afford it. It was a good reminder of my recently acquired relationship with the One Most High, though. I’m sorry God. I know I’m being a putz. I know I should tone it down a bit. I’m trying to be a better woman, trying to take the high road. Whatever that was. Amen?

  Reality burst through my awkward prayers. But forty grand? Where would I even begin to come up with that kind of money? My gaze settled on a wooden frame showcasing the three people I cared most about. My eighty-year-old mother sitting on a bench at the edge of the dock, next to Samantha, the two of them looking frail but happy. A sun-kissed Italian man stood behind them, one arm draped around each of their shoulders, leaning down as if he were about to share the secret of the century with the women he loved.

  “Listen to me. We’re almost through this. You’re moving on to bigger and better things, remember? Keep your eyes on the prize.” Andy was on a roll. An expensive roll.

  “What does that even mean anymore?”

  “Samantha. It means we’ve got to keep doing everything we can to keep you squeaky clean in front of the judge and, God forbid, in front of the court if we have to go down that road. Which I’m still hoping we won’t.”

  Samantha. Balm of Gilead to my soul. I pictured her flying down the little hill on her pink skis, framed in last night’s moon. “Alright. What do you suggest?”

  “I’m sorry, but you’re going to have to give up this last little bit of money—and you do have it. It’s the exact amount of equity left untouched if you were to refinance your house.”

  “Gah! He knew that! He’s just doing this ‘cause he can. Can’t you stop this freight train? What do I pay you for?” I stopped and took a deep breath. Dear God, forgive me for being a self-centered jerk. “I’m not going down without a fight. Can’t you spend a little more time on case law or something? Get me outta this mess with a little bit of my dignity left intact?”

  “We’re not interested in his motivation. We’re interested in one thing: closure. Being done. So you can move on with your wonderful new life.”

  “Okay, fine. Do it. If this is really what it’s gonna take, I’ll call my bank today. Just get through this as quickly as possible so we can move forward with the adoption process. I surrender.”

  “You forgot the best part.”

  “So Samantha can start a new life with a new family. With me.”

  I ended the call before I started either swearing or crying. What if I can’t handle being a mom? My shoulders tightened and pain snapped across my temples. I don’t know what I don’t know. I squeezed my eyes shut, breathing rapidly. What if I’m horrible at this? My heart beat wildly, and I started to tremble.

  Warmth descended upon me, feathery blankets of golden mist seemed to settle around me, lifting my spirit. In my mind’s eye, a brilliant light emanated from the center of the golden mist, surrounding me with overpowering sense of love and peace. I smiled, opened my eyes, and leaned into the Presence I could not see. My Magnificent Being stood with me, like a golden warrior, enveloping me in His love. His voice called out a truth I’d read in a recent devotional. Faithful is He who calls you, and He also will bring it to pass. I opened my eyes and watched as the mist evaporated, burning away my fear, and leaving me with an ocean of peace.

  Even after basking in the presence of my Magnificent Being, the conversation with Andy had still left me jangly and raw. My feet pounded the jogging path as I rounded the corner toward home, tree branches drooping low overhead and remnants of the morning’s mist shrouding a dark shape on the ground ahead of me. A smarter woman would have slowed down, maybe stopped. I poured on the speed. I hadn’t had a run this smooth for days.

  The closer I came, the bigger the form appeared, until I realized, too late, it was a log. Stop? Speed up? I hustled and leapt over the log like I was born for it, resuming my steady pace with a triumphant smile.

  I made my way over the winding gravel path leading to my back porch from the miles of trails that wove between my subdivision and the nearb
y forest preserve. Ten pounds wasn’t all I’d lost in the past few months. Four months ago, a huge log like that would’ve caused me to turn back—head down, dejected. I liked the new me.

  A tree wasn’t the only obstacle in my way lately. Maybe it was time to leap over them all. There was one last confrontation looming as the final date of the divorce decree drew near like a thunderstorm on the horizon. I owed it to myself to go and give my soon-to-be-ex-husband and his younger, sportier model, the piece of my mind I’d been holding back for months out of courtesy and self-respect, and okay, maybe a little fear. Courtesy? I leapt over courtesy long ago, along with that big ol’ log. I left it all behind me in the dirt.

  I rooted through my jacket pocket and pulled out my key. A pink sticky note floated to the ground. A verse from Malachi written in Gino’s block print. But for you who fear My name, the sun of righteousness shall rise with healing in its wings. You will shall go out leaping like calves from the stall. Oh, brother. While I had already forgotten my vow to work harder on becoming a better woman, Someone else had not.

  Fine. Between God and Gino, my dear friend and guide to all things spiritually-related, I was bound to become that better woman soon. Time to redirect my thinking.

  Today is the first day of the rest of your life. Start it right… with no regrets. No righter way to start the day than an impromptu visit with Samantha. There were only a few days of Spring Break left. Maybe I’d pick her up, and together we’d surprise my mom with dark chocolates and brunch. Three generations of Oliver women in one spot. It doesn’t get much better than that. I hummed as I walked through my house and headed for the shower. Ten minutes later, I was dressed and moisturizing.

  I’d call Sam’s social worker and foster mom to get the okay to pick her up in a few hours. First, I had another stop to make. I was going to take my final ride down that beautiful lane to my old lake house, knock on the door, skip the drama, and get my holiday china. We were speeding into Easter, and I wanted my alabaster rabbit and my lamb cake mold, so I could have my Easter back, on the way to getting my life back.