Just as she stepped away, Jack glanced down at his own phone. He saw he’d missed four calls from Serena Lavinia, the local beat reporter for the island newspaper. The girl had been hounding him for a quote on the town’s annual Lantern Beach Illumination, which would take place on Monday.
He couldn’t handle talking about something so . . . mundane . . . like that right now, though. Sure, Jack had been charged with heading up the Living Nativity and town carolers, and he was happy to contribute as much Jesus as he could to the Christmas season. But helping Juliette was more pressing—even if the town’s celebration was only three days away.
Cassidy returned, a stormy look in her eyes. “Mac checked Juliette’s house and said it looks untouched. He dusted for fingerprints, but I’m not hopeful anything will turn up in time.”
“Results can take weeks to get back, can’t they?”
“Yes, they can. Meanwhile, I asked him to get in touch with Barbara at the management company. Maybe they have some security cameras and captured this guy on tape.”
Jack’s heart lifted for a moment. “That would be helpful.”
A woman—the clerk from the front desk at the clinic—approached Cassidy, a knot between her eyebrows. “Did you talk to that man yet?”
“Excuse me?” Cassidy blinked, looking confused.
“Our patient’s husband came by, asking about his wife.”
Cassidy and Jack exchanged a look.
“When was this?” Cassidy asked.
“Just about five minutes ago. He asked about Juliette Grace. I don’t have the patient’s medical ID card, and, with the HIPAA laws, I couldn’t confirm anything for him and—”
“Where did the man go?” Cassidy interrupted.
The receptionist wrung her hands. “I don’t know. I looked up just now, and he was gone. I thought he might have come down here.”
“Jack, stay by this door,” Cassidy ordered. “Don’t leave it.”
And then she took off down the hallway, trying to find the mystery man. Was the man Juliette’s husband? Or was he her stalker?
Chapter Four
Jack paced, anxious to hear if Cassidy had caught the man.
If the visitor had been Juliette’s husband, he would have tried to see her. He wouldn’t have left. Besides, Juliette wasn’t wearing a wedding ring and hadn’t said she was married.
Which left Jack with only one conclusion: the man who’d attacked her had come back, desperate for an update on how she was doing. Desperate to know if his wound had killed or only sidelined her.
His heartrate surged with anger at the thought. Who could be that sick to go to such lengths?
As he sensed movement, his attention turned down the hallway. Cassidy walked back toward him, a frown on her face.
“The man is long gone.” Cassidy stopped in front of him, her expression even more grim than before. “Security is pulling up the footage now. I want to see what this guy looks like.”
The bad feeling in his gut grew. This guy must have nerves of steel if he dared showed his face here.
And that made him even more dangerous than Jack had assumed.
A couple minutes later, a security officer walked toward them with a paper in his hands. “I pulled up the footage. This was the best image I could get of the man.”
Jack peered over Cassidy’s shoulder and saw a black and white image of a man wearing a baseball hat. He appeared to be of average height and had a thin build.
And he didn’t appear nervous. No, his body language looked casual.
“I don’t like this,” Cassidy said. “That woman is in some serious danger.”
“I agree.”
Cassidy bit down. “I’m going to go talk to her and see if she recognizes this man—right after I text this picture to Mac and Leggott.”
Juliette looked up as the police chief stepped into her room. Something was wrong. She could sense it.
“What happened, Chief?” she asked, wasting no time.
“Call me Cassidy.” The chief frowned and held up a picture. “Juliette, do you recognize this man?”
Juliette took the glossy paper from Cassidy and stared at the grainy image printed there. It was hard to make out many details. But she could make out enough. “That’s him, isn’t it?”
“We believe so.”
“But wait . . .” She stared at the photo. “Where was this taken?”
Cassidy’s face remained stoic. “Here at the clinic.”
Everything around Juliette spun and blurred. “He came here? Just now?”
“That’s correct. He said he was your husband. And then he ran away.”
Juliette squeezed the skin between her eyes, feeling a headache coming on—a headache brought on by stress and anxiety. She’d dealt with them before. All too often, for that matter.
“He’s not going to stop at anything,” she said quietly. “He wants me to be either his or dead.”
“Not on my watch,” Cassidy assured her.
Juliette shook her head. “You can’t guarantee that. No one can.”
The chief stepped closer to the bed and lowered her voice. “I’m sorry, Juliette. We’re doing everything we can do to find him. And, like I told you earlier, we’ll have an officer stationed outside your door. While you’re here, you’ll be safe.”
“Thank you. I appreciate that.”
Cassidy nodded and took a step back. “I’m going to let you rest, but I’ll stop by first thing in the morning to give you an update.”
As Juliette realized Cassidy was leaving, her heart leapt into her throat. There was one more thing first. “Chief—Cassidy?”
The woman paused and looked back. “Yes?”
Juliette swallowed hard, feeling like she was stepping out of line by asking the question. But she had to. “Is Jack still outside?”
“Probably.”
Her heartrate slowed just a little hearing he was still close. “Could you send him in? Please? I just want to tell him thank you again.”
“Absolutely. Take care, Juliette.”
Jack hesitated as he approached Juliette’s bed. What she’d been through was horrible. And it was even more horrible that she had no one to call to be here with her.
Everyone deserved to have someone to call on during tough times.
He swallowed hard as he observed her.
She appeared so frail as she lay in the bed wearing a hospital gown.
Before today, how had she looked? Was she the type of woman who was always put together? Or was she relaxed and happy-go-lucky? The young professional type? He had no idea. But he did know that there was a fighting spirit in her gaze, one that wanted to emerge from the depths of her brown eyes.
“The good news is that the doctor said you’ll be okay,” Jack started.
He’d done many hospital visits. They never got easier. Sometimes he was here just to pray, to share good news that a surgery had gone well. But he’d had too many visits that had been the opposite—full of bad news and grief.
He hoped and prayed that Juliette’s story would end with good news.
“Thank you for saving me, Jack.” Juliette licked her lips and stared up at him. “I don’t know how to repay you.”
Something welled in his chest. Protectiveness? Conviction? He wasn’t sure. “There’s no need for you to repay anything. I’m just sorry all this happened to you. What will you do now?”
A far-off look crossed her gaze. For a moment, the woman reminded Jack of a lost little girl. His heart panged with empathy.
“I don’t know,” she said. “I don’t want to return home to Atlanta, but I don’t feel like I can stay here either.”
“Are you sure there’s not someone you can call?”
She shook her head and nervously pressed her hand across her hospital gown, as if trying to rub out the wrinkles. “No, not really. I mean, sure, I have friends. But my job is so solitary that I’m pretty much by myself.”
Now she had Jack even more curious. Someth
ing about the woman made him want to put together the pieces of her life. “What do you do?”
“I’m a writer.”
“Articles?”
“Books.”
“I see.” Jack had the impression she didn’t want to say more. There was a certain sadness in her gaze, and she offered no more information.
She cleared her throat. “How about you? You on the police force?”
He let a rumbling chuckle. “Not quite. I’m . . . I’m a pastor.”
Juliette blinked. “Are you? I wouldn’t have guessed. I mean, I don’t mean that as an insult. It’s just that . . .”
He raised a hand. “You don’t have to explain. I get it.”
“Pastors aren’t usually so . . . so . . .”
Jack waited for her to finish, curious about where she was going with that comment.
Her cheeks reddened. “So handsome. There, I said it. I’m sorry. It must be the pain meds I’m on. I don’t normally say things like that. I’m sure you have a wife to go home to, and you can tell her about the nutty woman you rescued who hit on you.”
“I don’t have a wife, and you’re not nutty.”
Juliette’s gaze shifted from her lap back up to meet Jack’s. “Well, thanks again.”
Jack stood, realizing he should leave, yet some intrinsic part of him said stay. But he hardly knew the woman. There were boundaries. But . . . “I could stay outside in the hallway tonight if you’d like, if that would make you feel better.”
A faint smile crossed her lips. “There’s going to be a cop there. I should be okay. And you look like you need to get yourself cleaned up.”
She was probably right. Jack had done his best in the bathroom, but there was still probably dried blood on him. Regardless, he felt so hesitant to leave the woman in a time like this.
He lowered his voice as he stood at her bedside. “Listen, Juliette, would you mind if I prayed for you before I left?”
Her eyes fluttered a moment before gratitude shone through. “Um . . . no. Not at all. In fact, I would really appreciate that.”
Jack lowered his head and closed his eyes. Then he prayed that the police would find the person who did this to her and bring him to justice. That Juliette would heal. That she’d have peace after this storm.
When he opened his eyes, Juliette had tears in her gaze.
“Thank you.” Her voice cracked. “I know I keep saying that, but . . . he would have killed me.”
Jack blanched. He knew her words were true. If he hadn’t shown up . . . it would be a different story right now. He thanked God that his steps had been directed as they had.
With another touch of hesitation, he waved goodbye and stepped from her room. Officer Leggott was stationed outside her door, just as Cassidy had said.
That made him feel better.
Because Jack couldn’t help but think that the woman needed someone. Being alone in a situation like this . . . it had to make it almost unbearable.
But he didn’t know the woman. He’d done what he could, and now it was time to move on.
Which was exactly what he planned on doing right now.
Chapter Five
Juliette couldn’t sleep. Every time she heard a noise outside her room at the clinic, her heart raced. Her lungs froze. Her body went into fight-or-flight.
What if the man came back? What if he found her and wanted to finish what he started last night?
She couldn’t breathe at the thought.
Because the man would try to finish this. And he’d made it clear that she couldn’t run. There was nowhere Juliette could go that he wouldn’t find her. Now she believed him.
A little moan escaped her at the thought.
Juliette shifted her legs, and her feet rubbed against the rough hospital sheets. Just outside her window, she could see the black night turning into a gray, peach-colored morning. Exhaustion pressed on her.
The few times she had drifted to sleep, she’d been awakened by a nurse coming to take her vitals. She’d gotten more pain meds as her incision began to ache. Then there had been the nightmares . . . nightmares about her stalker. Her future. Her next plan of action.
She hated being here alone. Maybe she shouldn’t have isolated herself so much in recent years. But her job required that very thing. To create, she needed quiet and alone time.
Then she’d met Logan, and she’d been able to balance her life a little more. When she wasn’t writing, she’d spent time with him. Occasionally they went out with friends. They’d even taken ballroom dance lessons.
And then Logan had left her . . .
Juliette squeezed her eyes shut. She didn’t want to think about him now. To think about the forever they were supposed to spend together. To think about the way he’d abandoned her, leaving her feeling humiliated and alone.
The desire to be loved was such a tricky one. Juliette knew this. She understood the basic human need to have community, to find that someone. She’d written about it many times.
But her story hadn’t turned out that way.
She’d never had a close-knit family. Her mom had left when Juliette was five, only popping in when the whim hit her. Her dad had traveled with his job. Instead, she’d had a string of nannies to keep her company.
Christmas with Logan after they’d been married was supposed to be wonderful. But he’d let her down just like everyone else.
Juliette’s thoughts traveled back to her stalker. She wasn’t sure which subject was more unpleasant, yet her mind volleyed back and forth between the two of them.
Who was the man? A few messages indicated maybe Juliette had met him before. Some of his messages had read: I heard about your new movie. Sorry that Logan moved out. How’s your new book coming?
Could he be the clerk from the grocery store who always seemed a little too interested in her? The pizza delivery man who’d asked her out? Someone from church? From the running group Juliette had briefly participated in? She didn’t know.
Maybe it was someone more personal. After all, she had a small team of people helping her. Her financial advisor. Lawyer. Accountant. Manager. Editor. Agent. Producer. Graphic designer. Virtual assistant.
Most were remote, so they usually worked together through phone calls, texts, and emails. Occasionally they saw each other face-to-face at an award gala or on the set of the made-for-TV movie based on her novel. The first one had premiered a couple years ago, and a second one would debut in nine days.
Could one of them be her stalker? About half her team was male. She hated to think any of them could be responsible, but she had no idea what to think right now. To take anyone off the table seemed foolish.
Her head pounded harder.
She had to think about something other than her stalker or Logan.
Jack came to her mind.
Juliette didn’t know the man. So why did she feel connected to him? An experience like this would connect anyone and give them a false sense of bonding, she supposed.
But the feeling would be fleeting. She most likely wouldn’t see the man again. He’d appeared in her life for a purpose—one that was now done.
In a few hours—or whenever the doctor discharged her—Juliette would gather her things. And then she’d move on from here. She’d look for somewhere safe, even though she knew she’d never find it.
The thought left her feeling hopeless and lost.
Tears pressed at her eyes. How had her life turned out like this? Her story wasn’t supposed to go this way.
As she tried to hold back her cry, pain shot through her side. That was right. The man had stabbed her. He’d tried to kill her.
A cold feeling spread through her chest.
Dear Lord, please help me. I don’t know what to do. If You could send help, send some glimpse of hope . . . I could use a Christmas miracle right now.
Jack closed his laptop and rubbed his eyes.
He hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep after he’d come home last night. He’d had too much on
his mind.
Finally, he’d given up on trying to rest. Instead, he reviewed his sermon for Sunday. It just happened to be on faith. When he’d finished that, he’d answered a slew of emails about the Living Nativity and town carolers. He’d responded to several messages about the church Christmas party, a question about getting a new floor in two of the Sunday school classrooms, and a request to find a substitute Sunday school teacher for the college-aged class.
Ministry was so much more than preaching a sermon and caring for his flock. There was also the business of running a church—something seminary hadn’t adequately prepared him to do. There was the challenge of balancing other people’s expectations with his own personal life. Of giving hours and hours to mundane and seemingly unimportant things instead of truly ministering. Times like when he was pulled into the middle of squabbles between family members or friends—squabbles with no solution, where people’s hearts weren’t pliable or ready for change. Or when he had to listen to complaints about the choir’s lack of talent or how upset someone was when a church picnic got canceled. Or when he’d added another service—a contemporary one—to take place after the traditional one, and three different families had left. His list could go on and on.
Jack just wished people felt as passionate about serving Jesus as they did about keeping up traditions, trying to be happy, or having their needs met. God never called His people to be happy. Instead, He told them they’d face troubles but to find joy in the middle of those storms. God never called his people to worry about their needs being met. He told them He would meet their needs and to go meet the needs of others.
Jack couldn’t help but wonder what Jesus thought about all of this.
Then again, at other times, he had to wonder if Jesus was even listening at all.
Jack’s thoughts circled back around to Juliette again. He had to admit that he’d thought about her in the past several hours more than he probably should. But the haunted look in the woman’s eyes wouldn’t leave his mind.
Storm of Doubt Page 3
