by Debby Giusti
Becca looked at Colby as if anticipating what Sally would say next.
“One winter morning there was a terrible explosion. My house was blocks away, and I thought it was either an earthquake or a bomb. Then I heard the sirens from the fire department and paramedics.”
Sally shook her head, her eyes filled with regret. “Mrs. Yoder was trapped in the bakery and didn’t survive.”
“Did they determine the cause?”
“A gas leak. When Mrs. Yoder turned on the stove, the place blew. Her customers were devastated. The boys were less obvious with their grieving. They moved in with a neighbor family for a while and eventually headed north.”
“What about Jacob?” Becca asked. “Do you know where he went?”
Sally shook her head. “He left Pinecraft before his brother and never came back. The neighbor said losing his mother was too much for Jacob to bear. Evidently he’d loved her, although I don’t see how he could have endured her hateful words and cruel verbal attacks.”
“Did he ever strike back at her?”
The older woman shook her head. “He was quiet around her as if he didn’t want to draw her attention, but...”
“What, Sally?”
“I saw him look at her sometimes when he didn’t know I was watching. He’d narrow his gaze and fist his hands. Both boys ran from her when she went into a rage. I’m sure they suffered when she found them. Since Jacob was older, I often wondered if he didn’t try to protect his brother.”
“And took the blows for both of them?” Becca asked.
Sally shrugged. “That’s what I always thought. Jacob never shed a tear at her funeral, but I couldn’t blame him as vengeful as that woman had been.”
“Did you ever see Jacob again?”
“Never.”
“What about the neighbors who took them in?”
“They left town some years back.”
“And Ezekiel? Can you provide a description of him?”
Sally nodded. “Both boys were similar in height and build. Same dark hair. Ezekiel wasn’t as handsome, and the difference was noticeable.”
“Did people mistake one brother for the other,” Becca asked.
“Never.”
ELEVEN
After leaving the beach, Becca and Colby stopped at the local police department and talked to a few of the officers who remembered the explosion that had claimed Mrs. Yoder’s life. According to their recollection, the blast had been accidental and caused by a faulty stove.
Both special agents left business cards with contact information and asked the officers to call them if they recalled any additional information.
“We’ll have to stop overnight along the way,” Colby told Becca once they were back on the interstate, heading north to Georgia.
She raised her cell phone. “I’ll call ahead and see if I can find accommodations.”
Becca reserved two rooms at the Florida Rest Motel about ninety miles outside of Sarasota. When they checked in, she was given a ground-floor room at the side of the complex. Colby parked nearby and ensured she was inside before he climbed the stairs to his own room. Once he stashed his overnight bag, he retraced his steps and knocked on her door.
“It’s Colby.” He tapped again.
When she failed to answer, he glanced at the parking lot and the densely wooded area beyond. Surely nothing had happened in such a short time. He knocked again and then hustled along the sidewalk to the front of the motel. Entering the lobby, he let out a sigh of relief.
Becca was talking to the man behind the check-in counter. “Breakfast is at 6:00 a.m., ma’am. It’s served here in the café.” He pointed to a room filled with small tables.
She thanked the clerk and turned toward the door. Her brow lifted, and a lopsided smile tugged at her lips when she spied Colby. “Is something wrong?”
He shook his head a little too quickly and tried to calm his racing heart. “No, of course not. Just checking out the facilities.”
“The workout room is down the hall. The motel offers a continental breakfast that starts at six. What time do you want to get started in the morning? I’d like thirty minutes in the gym, if we have time.”
“Sure, no problem. Just call me when you’re ready to leave.” He hesitated then added, “Working out on the treadmill might be a good idea. Shall we meet up at five-thirty for PT.?”
“Perfect.” She patted his arm and walked around him. “See you in the morning.”
“May I help you, sir?” the clerk asked.
“Coffee for my room?”
“Certainly.” He reached under the counter and pulled out two sealed foil packets. “Anything else, sir?”
“A place to grab some food?”
“There’s fast food out the door and to the left. For more formal dining, you’ll have to drive about five miles.”
“Fast food works. Thanks.”
He exited the lobby and walked around the perimeter of the motel, scouting out the entire complex. One of the first tenets of military readiness was to know the terrain. The motel was a square structure surrounded on all sides by a parking lot. Beyond the pavement in the rear, he spied a field of orange trees. A single-lane dirt road allowed access for farm vehicles.
He stared long and hard into the falling darkness. Satisfied no one was lying in wait, he walked across the parking lot to the small restaurant. After ordering two combo burgers with fries and drinks and a chicken sandwich, he hurried back to the motel, bypassed the stairway to the second floor and stopped outside Becca’s door.
“It’s Colby,” he said as he knocked.
The curtain pulled back, and she peered out the window.
He lifted the bag of food. “I brought chow.”
The lock turned and the door opened.
“I thought you might be hungry,” he said to Becca, who stood in the doorway.
Her eyes danced from the bag to his face and to the bag again. “Actually, food sounds great. Come in.”
He placed the bag on the round table by the window and settled into one of the two barrel chairs. “Burger and fries or a chicken sandwich?”
“The burger works for me, but what about you?”
“I ordered two, just in case. I’ll save the chicken for dessert.”
She smiled and opened the disposable container he handed her. “As much as I ate at lunch, I shouldn’t be hungry.”
He lowered his head in prayer.
“Oh, sorry.” She dropped her hands to her lap and glanced down. Both of them looked up a few seconds later. She smiled apologetically. “I’ve gotten out of the habit.”
He nodded, understanding. “I was just following Dawson’s lead yesterday. He got me thinking about where God was in my life.” Colby took a bite of the burger and grabbed a handful of fries.
“And?” she asked, once he came up for air.
He raised his brow. “Pardon?”
“And where is God in your life?”
He pointed toward the ceiling. “Up there someplace.”
With a laugh, he added, “I don’t mean the second floor. He’s reigning over the world, taking care of business.”
She tilted her head, her eyes inquiring. “Are we part of his business?”
“What do you think?”
She took a sip of her drink before she answered. “I used to think God cared. That what I did was important to Him. Then I grew up and things got more complicated. My struggle with my own datt influenced the way I thought about God the Father.”
She wiped a few crumbs off the table. “Seems when I turned my back on one, I turned my back on the other as well. Since then I’ve been on my own.”
“But you still believe in God?” he asked.
“I know He’s
out there.” She extended her hand and then pointed at the ceiling just as Colby had done. “Maybe I should say ‘up there’ as you mentioned, but He’s busy with big issues that are more important than my life.”
“Is that what your father told you?”
She tilted her head and stared at him. “Why do you ask?”
“Just something that came to mind. Maybe it’s the tone you use when you talk about your dad. I got the idea he was a strict authoritarian. When he said something you were expected to obey.”
“He said I shouldn’t tax God’s patience and should accept my life as it was.”
“Evidently, he wasn’t a touchy-feely type of guy.”
She smiled at his sarcasm. “To say the least.”
“The way I see it—” Colby wiped his mouth and then dropped the napkin in his lap “—Christ is always ready to help us through the hard times, but we have to ask for His help. We need to invite Him into our lives because of free will. The choice is ours to accept His help or reject it.”
Becca frowned. “Are there only two options?”
“Far as I can figure, that’s it. If you’re not inviting Him into your life, then you’ve got a keep-out sign on your soul. Because of free will, He won’t barge in.”
“Which way are you going?”
“I’m ready to open the door I closed in Afghanistan.”
She watched him with questioning eyes as if waiting for Colby to reveal more. No reason to mention Ellen—an independent woman who had stolen his heart and then discarded it because of her own need for independence. Better to keep the past in the past.
Thankfully, Becca didn’t press the point.
She finished the burger and threw the cardboard container in the trash. Colby tidied his side of the table.
“You didn’t eat the chicken sandwich,” she said when he stood.
“I’ll save it for later.”
She reached for her purse. “How much do I owe you?”
“Not a problem.” At times Becca seemed as independent as Ellen. Maybe more so.
She pulled out a twenty and handed it to him. “You bought lunch today. I’ll spring for dinner.”
“Keep your money.”
Evidently what he had been feeling about their relationship was lost on Becca. She considered him just another special agent with whom she was assigned to work. Why had he thought a deeper bond had developed between them, something more personal, more intimate?
Frustrated, he threw the bag in the trash.
“What about the chicken sandwich?” she asked.
“I’m not hungry anymore.” He reached for the door. “Call me when you’re ready to leave in the morning.”
Colby flexed his muscles and inhaled a lungful of cool night air when he left her room, relieved to be away from the confused look that had wrapped around her pretty face.
She didn’t have a clue about the way he felt, although at the present moment, he was as mixed-up as she looked. On the one hand, he knew Becca was a fellow agent and their relationship needed to be professional and not personal.
The problem remained that, for all her determination, Becca had a vulnerability that touched him to the core. In his family, women were cherished, including his five sisters who drove him crazy when they ganged up on him.
His father adored their mother. She was a strong woman, yet she allowed her husband to care for her in a million small ways that showed his love.
Colby had learned from his dad through observation, but also from the man-to-man talks they’d had on a regular basis since he’d been old enough to realize he was outnumbered by girls in the Voss family.
So why couldn’t he buy Becca a burger, insignificant though that might be?
He sighed and shook his head. Time for a reality check. Shove the emotion aside and get back to the job at hand.
His elbow grazed against the weapon on his hip. He stopped at the stairwell and glanced around the parking area, feeling an immediate sense of unease. The last of his frustration dissipated, replaced by an alertness that signaled danger.
A few cars drove along the main road in front of the motel. He glanced at the grove of orange trees behind the lodging. Sweeping his gaze forward, he searched the dark, wooded area, looking for movement. He tilted his head and listened for the sound of footsteps or the crunch of broken glass and breathed in deeply, checking for smoke or anything out of the norm that could be the reason for his internal agitation.
Once again, he walked the perimeter of the motel, especially aware of the thick wooded areas, and stopped frequently to listen and stare into the night.
The overhead lights on the fast-food restaurant flicked off. A lone clerk, visible through the large glass windows, grabbed his jacket and left through a side door. The kid checked the lock before hurrying to his car.
Colby watched him pull onto the main highway, heading south. The hum of his engine eventually died, leaving only the sound of cicadas and tree frogs to fill the void.
Convinced his internal alert system was being too sensitive in this peaceful, rural setting, Colby returned to the stairwell. He glanced quickly at Becca’s door and the glow of light behind the pulled curtains, before he climbed to the second floor and entered his own room. He opened the drapes and stood in the darkness, staring down at the parking lot below.
What had caused his warning signal to go on high alert? Was it being with Becca this evening and getting upset about her need to pull her own weight that had made him tilt off center?
Or was danger lurking outside? Something or someone waiting for Colby to lower his guard?
Becca may think she could take care of herself, but if Jacob Yoder or someone else planned to harm her, she needed to be careful and cautious, which was exactly why Colby planned to remain vigilant throughout the night.
* * *
Becca sat on her bed fully clothed and checked the local news on her smart phone. Two men had been shot in a nearby town after trying to rob a convenience store. The owner kept a gun under the counter and, to his credit, had been able to defend himself and his store.
Squinting from the glare of light, she clicked off the bedside lamp to better view the touch screen on her phone. Although the room was dark, she could see the outline of her own service revolver on the nightstand and remembered back to the first gun-safety classes she’d had in basic training. In spite of her pacifist upbringing, learning to shoot and maintain her weapon had brought peace of mind, knowing if Jacob found her, she could protect herself.
Yet the weapon had offered little protection from the gas explosion. What had prompted her to go into the kitchen for a glass of water? Had God been watching out for her?
With her history, the Lord’s involvement seemed unlikely, yet wasn’t that what Colby had been trying to say? God was always ready to intervene, when and if we turned to Him in our need. Had she called out to God that night, even subconsciously, and asked His help?
The thought of what could have happened made her stomach tighten. She glanced at the closed motel drapes and the locked door. Strong as she tried to be, she had to be aware of her surroundings at all times.
She didn’t have the luxury of relying on someone else to keep her safe. Maybe because she had never had anyone who stepped into that protective role, which Colby seemed so willing to take on.
Yet, she couldn’t rely on him. If she did, she might let down her guard, and that could prove deadly.
Better to ensure she kept a barrier up between them. She shook her head and sighed, regretting the reality of her life and wishing that she and Colby could have met under different circumstances.
For a moment she lost herself, thinking of his dark eyes and square jaw and the strength of his arms when he’d saved her life in Alabama. She remembered the masculine scent of his aftersh
ave and the way his breath had fanned her neck.
Memories of his closeness weren’t helping her stay strong. In fact, they were confusing her even more. Determined to get her mind off Colby, she dropped her legs to the side of the bed. Time to change into her sweats and call it a night. Morning would come too early.
Before she could place her phone on the nearby table, a shuffle sounded on the walkway outside her room.
A footstep perhaps?
Her heart pounded a warning. She tilted her head toward the window and waited for the sound to come again.
There it was.
A footfall as if someone was walking ever so quietly toward her room.
She freed her weapon from its holster. With the phone in her other hand, she slowly and deliberately moved to the opposite side of the room and stood with her back to the wall and her gun aimed at the door.
Again she listened.
A twig snapped near the window.
Too close.
She tapped Colby’s number into her cell. As soon as she hit Send, a barrage of gunfire broke the silence. The window exploded and shards of glass showered over the bed where she had sat moments earlier.
Becca flattened herself against the wall. Bullets cut through the bedding and mattress.
A pause—not more than a second or two—before another stream of shots ate through the motel door. Wood fragments flew in the air like confetti. A sharp chip cut into her cheek.
Her ears roared from the explosive bursts.
As quick as it started, it was over. Footfalls pounded the pavement, running away from the motel.
She threw open the shattered door.
A dark form sprinted across the parking lot toward the densely forested area beyond. “Halt!” she screamed, her weapon aimed at the fleeing shooter.
A car turned into the parking lot, blocking her line of fire.
“Stop,” she yelled at the driver and held up her hand. “Stay in your car.”
She raced around the vehicle and chased after the assailant, pushing her legs to go faster.
