“I’m not one of those persons. Jesus made up stories to make a point. They’re called parables.”
“I guess that’s true. I never thought of it like that.”
“Pray about it and write what the Holy Spirit puts on your heart.”
27
The man stared at the television screen. It was his habit to scroll through the news channels during his free time—which was precious little now that he was so busy. As he listened to the interview with a woman who’d survived a fall and a kidnapping that she couldn’t remember, his blood went cold. It couldn’t be her. There was no way she could have survived.
And as vague as her details were, she could have been anyone from anywhere, not necessarily his Suzie Q. And that sweet, southern accent. His Suzie Q didn’t have that. It wasn’t a fake accent. It was as if she’d talked that way her whole life.
It couldn’t be her.
But was he willing to take that chance? He was about to fulfill all of his dreams. All he had to do was not make any mistakes. Was Suzie Q the blunder that would keep him from his destiny? Even if she had somehow survived, she’d told all of America that she couldn’t remember anything about her abduction or her abductor. No one would believe her if she accused him. Besides she’d said she had no idea who the monster was—that was the name she’d called him. Probably just a coincidence.
Monster.
He smiled at the memory.
It had been a rush to have her hidden all those months. Being in control. Her very existence depended on him. So much better than he’d thought it would be. He hadn’t minded the extra work. Maybe it was time to find another…guest.
But maybe not.
He looked back at the TV screen. Could that have really been Suzy Q? He smiled. If it was her, the scopolamine had done its job. The authorities would surely have come knocking on his door by now if she’d remembered him in spite of what she’d said on TV. If it was really her.
No, nothing to worry about. It couldn’t be her. There was no way she could have survived. He walked over to his laptop and typed in Berkeley Springs Monitor and the date of August thirtieth. He remembered the date well. He’d scoured the paper every day until he saw what he was waiting for. He pulled up the Internet version and scanned. There it was.
Jane Doe Pulled from Cacapon River.
Today a group of kayakers came upon the body of an unknown victim of the river. According to the coroner, she’d been dead for more than thirty-six hours. They have no clues to her identity at this time.
The timeline fit perfectly with his Suzie Q. There was no reason to think it wasn’t her. When he’d read it the first time, he’d been so sure it was Suzie Q that he hadn’t bothered to follow up with the authorities.
But now he wasn’t quite as sure.
How could he do that without alerting the authorities of his interest in the case? He continued scanning later editions of the paper. And there it was.
Jane Doe Identified.
He scrolled down the article. And then he saw it. Not the name he expected. Turned out that Jane Doe had been a lone hiker who’d apparently had an accident and tumbled in the river.
He pounded a fist on the desktop.
How had he missed that? Talk about a blunder. He should never had assumed the Jane Doe was Suzie Q. He couldn’t afford those kind of blunders. He pounded on the desk again and again.
A knock. “It’s time for your next appointment.”
He flicked off the computer, stood up, and put on his mask. Then he turned to face his assistant. “Robert, I need you to change my schedule. I need a few days off.”
Robert looked concerned. “Is there something wrong? Anything I can help with?”
Oh, he wished that were the case, but this was something he had to take care of himself. "Nothing’s wrong. I just need some time to myself.”
“I’m sure I can manage that. But you’ll have to wait for a few days.”
“Not a problem.” He needed time to prepare. “And I need you to check on something for me, but it has to be kept in confidence.”
“You can trust me, sir.”
“I need you to find out about a reporter on the Marietta paper. I’m not sure if she still works there.”
“Looking for a new PR person, huh?”
What a perfect front. “I’m considering it.”
“Sounds like a good idea.”
“Her name is Raven Marks.
28
Raven stepped out of her garage. She tugged the rollaway suitcase behind her.
“Raven, you are back. I’m so glad to see you. I chust couldn’t wait until you came back so I could tell you about this bakery idea of yours.” Lydia was beaming.
Raven repressed a sigh. This wasn’t the right time. She was too tired—no, more like exhausted. Ten interviews in three days. It had been a crazy schedule but she and Julie both agreed that doing all of them as quick as possible lessened the chance of anyone finding out her real identity. Not wanting to hurt Lydia’s feelings she forced a smile. “I’m back.”
“I’ve been praying about it. I was taking a walk the other day and found the perfect location. It was a small restaurant, so it already has equipment in it. I called the owner and he’s willing to lease the place to us. I believe it’s a sign from God, yes?”
“Maybe.”
“You’ve changed your mind? You don’t want to open the bakery?” Lydia sounded disappointed. “Or maybe it’s me. Maybe I’m not the right person for a partner. I can understand that. I don’t know anything about running a business. You can still rent the building with a different partner. I won’t be angry.”
“No. No. It’s not that at all. I do want to open the bakery with you. I’m just exhausted from my trip. That’s all. Can we talk about this tomorrow?”
“Of course. Of course. I’m so sorry. It was rude of me not to see how tired you are. You go to sleep. We’ll talk more tomorrow, yes.”
“You’re not rude; you’re an angel, Lydia. And absolutely yes. Thank you.” She made her way to her porch.
“Well, I’m not an angel, but you go rest now. Straight to bed with you.” Lydia made shooing motions with her hands. “Good night.”
“Good night.” Without bothering to unpack, Raven curled up on the sofa. Sleep sneaked up on her and then the dreams came…
A man with no face walked toward her holding out a long stick that glowed green. Closer and closer.
“No. I don’t want it. Go away.”
He came closer. He had a faint green glow as well, but the green stick was even brighter. So bright it hurt her eyes.
“Take it.”
“No.”
“You have no choice. Take it.” Now he glowed as bright as the stick. She couldn’t tell where the stick ended, and the man started. He just kept moving toward her.
“I don’t want it. Go away.”
He was in front of her holding out the stick. “Take it. Now. It’s belongs to you. Take it now.”
Tears streamed down her cheeks. “I don’t want it.” But even as she said the words, her hand moved toward the green glow. She didn’t want to touch the evil. But her hand kept moving toward it.
“You have no choice. Take it…take it…take it…”
So much pain. She didn’t want it. She tried to let go but her fingers wouldn’t release it. She was glowing. As bright as the stick. As bright as the monster. She looked at the monster. The monster had her face.
She was the monster.
Raven screamed and bolted upright. She stared around the room, jumping at the shadows, looking for…she didn’t know what. Her heart hammered and sweat rolled down her back. The shadows morphed into her living room, dimly lit, but recognizable.
Only a dream. Not real. She wiped away the tears. Not real. But what if the dream was trying to tell her something?
Raven shuddered.
Her phone buzzed. She spoke out loud, calming her voice. “Hi, Gracie.”
“Just checkin
g to see if you’re coming tomorrow.”
Tomorrow. Her therapy Bible study. As much as she’d meant to get serious about reading the Bible, she hadn’t had time that week. “Oh, I’m glad you called. I can’t make it tomorrow. Something came up.”
“OK. But these sessions are important.”
“I know. I know. I’ll make it up. We can do two next week.”
Gracie laughed. “Whatever.”
“Hey, Gracie, let me ask you a question.”
“Sure.”
“What do you think about dreams? Do you believe God speaks to us through our dreams?”
“I think there are all sorts of reasons we have specific dreams. And sometimes we just have dreams for no particular reason.”
“That doesn’t help much.”
“Maybe we could discuss it further if we were having a session tomorrow.”
“Yeah, yeah…I hear you. But, really? Do you think dreams…I’m not sure how to word it…but do you think God can uses dreams to give us messages?”
“Of course, but you have to be careful to not make more out of a dream than it really is. Sometimes dreams are just crazy manifestations of our subconscious. What was your dream?”
“Nothing really. I was just curious.”
“There’s the Raven I know and love. Always willing and ready to share her thoughts with her friends.”
“Sarcasm is not a nice thing, Gracie.”
“I suppose not. I’ll put on my psychologist hat for just a moment. You’ve been through a lot of trauma and, in fact, you’re still going through it as the memories come back. Each time you remember something new, it’s as if you’re experiencing it for the first time. So considering that, it would surprise me if you weren’t having some nightmares.”
“So nothing to worry about?”
“Exactly.”
“Thanks for the mini session. I promise I won’t miss next week.”
“I’m holding you to that.”
Raven hung up. Nothing to worry about. It was just a dream. But what if it wasn’t? What if God was trying to tell her that her monster was out there? Looking for her. Coming for her.
She should never have written the book. What had she been thinking? If the monster read it or saw her on TV, he would know she was still alive. And that would make him angry.
Why…oh, why had she written it? She’d been so sure it was something God wanted her to do but now? It seemed like one big mistake.
29
Why can’t I be strong? I know God is with me but I… Raven sat in a corner of her bedroom closet wiping away tears. It was the only place she felt safe. Intellectually, she knew it wasn’t true. The truth was there was no real safety in the closet—or anywhere else. Not for her. As long as the monster was free, she was in danger. She’d told herself that she would let go of the past she couldn’t remember and focus on the future—make her own memories in the present.
Instead, it chased her down in her dreams when she slept and visions when she was awake. It was an ever-present fear.
God must be so disappointed in her.
The thought brought on a fresh set of tears. Before all this, she thought she was a good Christian but if that were true then why couldn’t she get past all of this? She’d believed the things she’d written. And yet here she sat in her closet — terrified.
Julie had assured her that people were being helped by the book. The reviews Raven had read online agreed with Julie. But now Raven was afraid it had been a mistake that could cost her life.
She’d been sure writing the book was what God wanted but now that it was out there, she regretted it. All her life she’d watched as good Christian people went through a storm or a crisis, even lost loved ones. And though they’d grieved, they’d stayed in faith.
She’d thought she had that kind of faith but in the last few days, she’d fallen apart. And she couldn’t seem to put herself back together. Instead, she sat in a closet while her mind played the bits and pieces of her captivity as if it were an old film. No sound, only the blinking black and white visions in the shadows. The monster walking toward her. Kicking her. Coming at her with that horrible cattle prod. Her sprawled out on a floor. And the pain. She could remember the pain in agonizing detail.
Sometimes the monster had Charles Whitman’s face. But just as often it was Sheriff Matthew Borden’s face. And sometimes no face.
She hadn’t left the house since she’d returned from New York. She hadn’t answered her phone or her door. The euphoria she’d felt in New York had turned to terror she had no control over.
She’d thought she was ready to look forward to the future. A bakery with Lydia. A friendship with Hunter—or maybe even more—until the nightmares started. And everything had gone downhill since then. Now she sat in her closet crying out to God, but He didn’t seem to be listening to her.
I will never forsake you. You are the one not listening.
Raven stilled. Deep in her soul the truth resonated. Gracie had told her more than once that God would speak to her through His Holy Word. And she believed that, but it hadn’t made her actually study His Word.
Raven crawled out of the closet to her nightstand. Picking up the Bible, index cards scattered to the floor. Gracie had given them to her with Bible verse references. Raven hadn’t bother to look up the verses. She gathered them up and turned the pages until she found it.
2 Timothy 1:7. For the Spirit God gave us does not make us timid, but gives us power, love and self-discipline.
Sitting in a closet was definitely timid. She moved on to the second reference.
Proverbs 29: 25. Fear of man will prove to be a snare, but whoever trusts in the Lord is kept safe.
Her fear had trapped her—literally and figuratively. But this verse promised that God would keep her safe. Of course, that didn’t mean something bad couldn’t happen to her here on earth but even if it did, she would be with God. That night when the monster tossed her off the cliff, she hadn’t felt fear. God’s love had surrounded her as she hurtled through space, twinkling stars spinning in her vision, to what she thought would be her death. God kept her safe that night and he would continue to keep her safe. She’d forgotten that. The monster was stealing her life because she was allowing fear to control her.
These verses were amazing. How had Gracie known to choose these specific verses?
Raven knew the answer.
God.
She looked at the next card.
1 Peter 5: 7. Cast all your anxiety on Him because He cares for you.
That was exactly what she needed to do. Give God her anxiety. He’d protected her from the monster once before because He loved her. He could be trusted to do it again.
More tears streaked her cheeks, but these were different. I’m so sorry, God. I’ve been more focused on evil than on Your love—Your power—Your goodness. I’m casting all my anxiety on You. Take it. I don’t want it.
Take it. That’s what the monster had said in her dream. She’d taken the awful green glowing stick. A stick that represented evil, fear, and pain. But she was giving it to God. She sat on the floor wiping away her tears as the burden lifted.
The doorbell rang.
The fragile connection broke—paralyzing fear surfaced.
Raven fought it. I will not fear—God is with me. Her racing heart slowed. Peace descended. But she was in no shape to talk to anyone right now.
Footsteps sounded across the floor.
Someone was in her house. She looked around for something to protect herself. She needed to buy a gun. She couldn’t move. She tried to remember Hunter’s lessons, but her mind blanked.
“Raven. Are you here?”
Amanda.
Relief flooded so fast, Raven had to hold on to the door frame to stand up. She wiped away her tears. “Hold on, Amanda. I’ll be out in a second.” She rushed to the bathroom and washed her face, whispering, “I can do this. I can do this. God is with me. He did not give me a spirit of timidity but o
f love and power.” She took a deep breath and walked out.
Amanda was sitting on the sofa. Her nieces sat beside her looking sweet with huge smiles. They both looked as if they’d bust.
“I’m sorry. Did I forget you were coming over?”
Her sister stared at her. “No you didn’t. I’ve been calling and calling and you haven’t been answering. Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. I’m sorry I didn’t answer. I know that probably scared you. I won’t do that again.”
“Thanks.”
“This is an unannounced visit,” Her oldest niece said.
“Well, it’s a wonderful surprise, Mallory.” Raven grinned.
“We got more surprises.” Marcie giggled. “Can we tell her now, Mommy? Please, I want to tell her.”
“Not yet.”
“Tell me what?”
“We’ve got a surprise for you.” Mallory stood up. “Take my hand and close your eyes, Aunt Raven.”
“Why?”
“So we can give you your surprise. Take my hands and close your eyes.”
Amanda shrugged. “Better listen to them. They’ve worked hard to give you this surprise.”
“OK, Mallory. This surprise better be good.”
“Oh, it is.” Marcie breathed. “Take my hand, too. Take my hand, too. I want to help.”
She took each of the girl’s hands. They led her out to her kitchen but kept walking. Then she heard the kitchen door open and felt a warm breeze on her face. The girls led her out on her deck.
“Don’t open your eyes yet, Aunt Raven. When I count to three then you can open your eyes. OK?” Mallory instructed her as she let go of her hand.
Marcie kept hold and started giggling.
“OK.”
“One.” Both girls said at the same time. “Two. Three.”
“Surprise!” A choir of voices shouted out.
She opened her eyes.
A huge cake set in the middle of the picnic table.
Hunter was there, and so were Gracie and Amanda’s husband, Todd. Lydia was there as well. Raven felt a tug of guilt. All the people she’d been avoiding since she came back from New York. Apologies needed to be made. Later. “Oh, my goodness. This is great but it’s not my birthday. What’s this all about?”
Jane Doe Page 13
