Ebony was gently placed in the back of a patrol car for transport to the precinct for booking.
Hopefully Ebony could fill in some gaps for her.
As much as she wanted to talk to the woman, it would have to wait. Right now, she was much too tired to properly analyze Ebony’s body language and answers.
Aside from that, Ebony’s state of mind was too unstable.
Maybe tomorrow. Or Monday, at the latest.
Dak stopped beside her. “Nice job tonight.”
She looked over at him. Circles hung beneath his eyes, evidencing the rough week they’d all lived through. “You, too. Glad you didn’t get shot.”
He chuckled. “You and me both. Look, CSU will be here for hours getting everything processed. Sid, Felicia, and JD are calling it a night. How about you ride back with them and head home?”
Home. That sure sounded good.
She looked at Dak. “What about you?”
A shrug lifted his shoulders. “Part of being the supervisor. I get to stay a little longer. Go on. There’s really nothing more you can do here.”
He was right.
And now that Trane was in custody, maybe she could finally get a good night’s sleep.
₪ ₪ ₪
Kevyn leaned back against the wall and sipped her coffee, watching the drizzling rain leave wet trails down the window beside her.
The coffeeshop was busy, especially for three p.m. on a Sunday.
The bell rang and Wendy Watson entered, giving her a small wave before walking up to the counter.
Good. Part of her had expected Wendy to stand her up.
While she waited for Wendy, she mentally ran through the morning’s interviews. First with Trane, then with Ebony.
Neither of them had been particularly helpful or forthcoming.
Trane had lawyered up within minutes. Although while waiting for his attorney, she’d observed Trane tapping his fingers. Six beats, then a pause. Six beats, then a pause.
In speaking with Wendy and Oliver, the number six had come up frequently. They’d always had dinner at six. There were always six places set at the table, even though they’d never had six people eating.
Each of them had been given six DVDs and six books to help pass the time.
Whether the significance of six had anything to do with Jax’s father’s death was a mystery she might never solve, but clearly the number meant something to him.
Ebony might know, but she wasn’t in any frame of mind to tell them. Instead, she’d babbled on and on about needing Jax and Jax saving her, but hadn’t given them anything particularly useful.
Kevyn was going to push to get Ebony in a psychiatric institution, but that might take a little time.
Maybe in a few days Ebony would be calmer and more coherent.
“Sorry about that.” Wendy pulled out the chair opposite Kevyn. “I can’t believe how long it took at the police station.”
Kevyn smiled. “It’s a process, isn’t it?”
“For sure.” Wendy sipped her steaming cup. “Mmm. I have sure missed a good cup of tea these past few weeks.”
The clatter of metal on tile echoed loudly in the room and Wendy jumped, sloshing her tea on the table.
A nervous laugh bubbled out. “Clumsy me.”
Kevyn grabbed a few napkins and helped mop it up. “It’ll take time to recover from this. Give yourself permission to feel. It’s the best thing for you right now.”
Wendy sighed. “I just want to get back to normal, you know? Not be afraid of the dark or shadows or everyone that passes me on the street.”
“I get it. Really, I do.” She paused briefly. Should she share about her experience? One look at Wendy’s face convinced her. “I was almost locked in there with you.”
Wendy’s eyes widened. “What?”
“I went undercover to draw him out. It worked. He almost abducted me.” Kevyn shook her head. “It’s been a week and I’m still a little edgy. Give it time. It will get better. Do you have a counselor or someone you can talk to about this?”
Wendy averted her eyes. “No. But I’ll be okay.”
“Don’t try to go it alone. I can recommend a few good trauma counselors who can help you process this.”
Wendy wrapped her fingers around the outside of her cup as if the heat radiating through the cardboard would give her strength. Finally, she looked up, her brown eyes meeting Kevyn’s. “Yeah, okay. Maybe.”
Removing a piece of paper from her purse, Kevyn passed it across the table.
Wendy’s lips parted.
“I like to be prepared.” Kevyn sipped her coffee as Wendy slid the paper into her pocket without looking at it. “Thank you for talking to Ebony last night. You probably saved her life. Maybe mine, too.”
Wendy shook her head slowly. “She really isn’t a bad person. She’s lost. Confused.”
Wendy seemed genuinely concerned about Ebony. It was the same vibe Kevyn had gotten from her last night, the one that had convinced her to allow Wendy to talk to Ebony. “I’m surprised you aren’t angry with her. After all, she helped Jax keep you locked up.”
“I was. I mean, I used to be.” Shaking hands lifted the cup to her lips and Wendy blew on her steaming drink.
“What changed? You seemed worried about her last night.” She strongly suspected that Ebony suffered from Stockholm Syndrome. While she saw no evidence that Wendy felt any loyalty to Trane, she seemed to have some kind of loyalty to Ebony. The question that remained was if it was unhealthy.
“God.” Wendy set her cup aside and turned to Kevyn with a surprising intensity. “God changed my heart.”
God? In all her years speaking with victims and perpetrators, she didn’t think she’d ever heard this line of thought.
“I’m not crazy.” Wendy gave her a shaky smile. “I admit. I started with ulterior motives. I’d hoped to convince her to let us go, appeal to her woman to woman. I tried to use Ava to convince her. But somewhere along the line, I stopped seeing Ebony as the enemy. I saw her as a girl who had been victimized too much in her life. I mean, four years in a brothel? What does that do to a teenager? Then Jax sweeps in, busts her out like some kind of hero, and takes care of her? Yeah. I can see why she’d be willing to do anything for him.”
That was incredibly empathetic. Surprisingly so. But she could tell that Wendy meant it. Every word.
Wendy took a drink of her tea. “Somewhere along the line, God gave me eyes to really see Ebony and her brokenness. She needs love. God’s love. If I didn’t show it to her, who would?”
Wow. Wendy was the real deal. Not someone who claimed to believe in God, but someone who lived it.
Kind of like Dak did.
“And as hard as this is right now, God’s love will get me through it.”
Dak’s words from the other day mingled with Wendy’s, echoing through her head in a repeating rhythm. Just believing in God wasn’t good enough.
Something told her Wendy would echo that sentiment.
As she looked at Wendy, she couldn’t help wondering if maybe, just maybe, Dak was right.
₪ ₪ ₪
Dak surveyed the massive beam running across the ceiling and tried to ignore the ache in his biceps. Kevyn hadn’t been kidding. That thing was heavy.
But he’d convinced Caiden and Pete to help and between the three of them, they’d managed to get the beam mounted.
The fact that Kevyn was a pretty woman and had promised pizza and brownies had made it a lot easier to talk them into helping on their day off.
“Thanks for helping.” Kevyn grinned at the three of them. “I seriously thought I’d have to hire that one out.”
“It was actually kinda fun.” Caiden studied their handiwork. “What’s next?”
“Next is another brownie.” Pete made a show of wiping sweat off his forehead. “I need replenishment!”
Kevyn laughed. “I could get behind that one.”
Pete headed toward the plate on the island, but Kevyn
continued to look at the ceiling.
“Next, I’ll try to match the plaster. It’ll be a little tricky since this house is so old, but I know a few tricks of the trade.”
He bet she did.
And if she didn’t, she’d probably make it up as she went and would somehow work it all out.
The house was coming along and he had to admit that Kevyn was good at this kind of thing.
In many ways, the house reminded him of people. Parts had been updated and looked great. Other parts still had a way to go.
They were a work in progress, every last one of them.
Lucky for them, God was a master craftsman. If they followed His leading, they’d turn out to be just like this house in Kevyn’s hands.
A masterpiece.
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Dedication & Acknowledgments
This book is lovingly dedicated to my aunts, all of whom have supported me in various ways through this journey. To Aunts Nancy, Barb, Debbie, Judy, and Katherine – thank you. Your kindness, encouragement, and support has meant the world.
A special dedication to my Aunt Irene, who joined our Savior in Heaven as I was revising this story. In God’s perfect sovereignty, not long after her passing I came across a VERY old version of this story from about twenty years ago. With it, a letter from Aunt Irene, who had read it and encouraged me to carry on.
Jamie Lee Grey, my friend and fellow fiction writer: thank you for your continued support, your encouragement, and for sharing this journey with me. I can’t imagine walking this road without you! Readers, if you haven’t checked out her stories yet, you can find them on Amazon. They’re amazing!
To my fabulous beta readers: Del, Christina, and Linda. No matter how many times I read this, you still find errors and things I’ve overlooked. Thank you for your friendship, support, and for being brave enough to show me what’s wrong with the story. I appreciate each one of you!
A huge thank you to each of my readers, for reading the stories the Lord has given me and for taking a few minutes of your time to leave such kind reviews. I truly appreciate your support!
Last, but never least, thank you Jesus. For saving me, for refining me, and for using me to do Your work. I am forever grateful.
A note from the author
Thank you for sharing in Kevyn and Dak’s journey! If you get my newsletter, you know that these characters are very dear to my heart. They are the first set of characters I created, have a lot of me in them, and have waited about twenty years to see the light of day. Dak, especially, is a lot like me in many ways.
If you enjoyed this story, would you do me a huge favor and write a quick review? Reviews help me as an author, encourage me, and can help other readers know if this book is worth their time and effort to read. You can leave a review by clicking here.
Kevyn and Dak will be back for another adventure in early 2021. Keep reading for a sneak peek of Faceless, book two in the Sinister Secrets series.
Authenticity is hard to come by in this world. We try to be real and genuine, but living out our faith is tough. No matter how hard we might try, we all have days where we blow it, big time.
Aren’t you glad that God can take our weaknesses and transform them? He took David, a simple shepherd boy, and made him the greatest king Israel ever had, a man described as being after God’s own heart (in spite of his sins!) He took the proud James and John, who wanted greatness for themselves, and made them humble apostles that spread the gospel. He took the brash and cowardly Peter and made him a pillar of the early church who was martyred for his faith. He took the killer Saul and made him Paul, writer of many books in the New Testament and a man who evangelized much of the ancient world.
He does the same for us, too. He knows our sin and weaknesses, but also knows the amazing things He can do in and through us. Sometimes it’s hard for us to see ourselves that way, but God never fails to see our potential.
Maybe you’re like Kevyn’s classic Mustang. Maybe you look good on the surface. Maybe you act like you’ve got it all together. Maybe you say or do all the right things. And maybe you’re a bit of a mess on the inside, needing the touch of a master mechanic like God.
Or maybe you’re like Kevyn’s house. Maybe you look at your life and all you see are problems, decay, and destruction. Maybe the problems seem too big for anyone, even God, to handle. Be encouraged! If you’ll let Him, God will take the brokenness and renovate you, one piece at a time.
We’re all in different places and different conditions, but God can work with anything. Surrender to His plan and watch Him work in you. He will do amazing things!
Excerpt from Faceless
Prologue
Oh man, it was his lucky day!
The sun warmed the late May afternoon, drying Jason Boggess’s short hair. Usually he didn’t bother showering at the gym post-workout, but tonight was different.
Weeks of flirting with that smokin’ hot nurse had finally paid off.
Good thing he always kept a small bottle of cologne in his locker at the gym.
Jason hurried across the parking garage to where he’d parked his black Camaro and hit the button on his key fob.
Slight fatigue settled in his muscles, as it always did when he pushed himself with the weights, but the definition in his arms, core, and legs was worth the effort.
No wonder that nurse was diggin’ him.
Something under his wiper blade caught his eye.
Probably an advertisement of some sort. Someone targeting him because he drove a nice ride.
He snagged the edge of the flyer and tugged.
The whole wiper blade moved.
What the heck?
He leaned in.
Some idiot had taken the time to wrap the end of the paper around the blade! He worked the paper loose.
Too bad he hadn’t caught the jerk who did this.
A sharp poke hit his shoulder.
What…?
Rushing, like the sound of the monorail running outside his dad’s office, flooded his head. The world tilted.
He whirled toward the source. Or tried to. His knees shook and his movements were about as steady as his baby nephew, who’d just taken his first steps last week.
Through the blackening fog clouding his vision, he saw a shape. Two shapes. Three? More?
He swung toward one of the shapes, his fist sailing through empty air.
The punch threw him off balance and he pitched forward. The ground rushed toward him.
Pain shot through his shoulder as he hit the asphalt, then the world faded away.
One
Kevyn put the last of the leftovers in the fridge, her eyes drifting to the clock as she did. Almost eight p.m.
While the birthday party she’d hosted for Dak had been fun, she was sure glad none of her coworkers were late night partiers. She was beat.
But it had been fun. And a much needed break from the stress of their current case.
Jason Boggess, the mayor’s son, had been missing for six days. With no leads and the amount of pressure coming down from upstairs, the last few workdays had been exceptionally long and frustrating.
Tomorrow they’d attack the case again, but tonig
ht they’d all needed to take a step back.
Chimes from the doorbell echoed through the house.
Who would be ringing her doorbell at eight at night? Had someone forgotten something?
A quick survey of the area didn’t turn up anything obvious.
Stepping into the living room she saw it. A wallet. On the floor beside the sofa.
The doorbell rang again.
Sheesh. What did they think she’d do? Steal it?
Leaving the wallet where it was, she crossed the living room and looked through the peephole.
The distorted image of a man, probably in his fifties or sixties with more salt than pepper in his hair, shifted. He glanced behind him, as though expecting someone to appear there.
She didn’t know this guy.
Her fingers turned to ice.
Who was he? Why was he here?
Most importantly, was he friendly or hostile?
He rang the bell again.
Hurrying through the living room, she retrieved her Glock from the kitchen cabinet in which she’d stashed it and tucked it into her waistband at the small of her back.
He was probably nothing more than a neighbor wanting to complain about the yard she still hadn’t taken time to address.
Although if so, he was awfully persistent.
She reached the door, slid the deadbolt, and unlocked the knob, simultaneously flipping the switch for the lights framing either side of the door. It wasn’t particularly dark yet, but the lights were bright enough to somewhat impair his vision for a second.
Swinging the door open a few feet, she braced one foot behind the door in case he tried to force his way in.
He blinked in the harsh light, but seemed to quickly focus in on her.
His mouth parted and his eyes widened.
“Can I help you?” She kept her words brusque and short, leaving no doubt that she did not welcome his intrusion.
“You look just like her.” His gaze drank her in, not in a creepy stalker sort of way, but in the fond way of an old friend.
Nameless (Sinister Secrets Book 1) Page 29
