Trusting God? The last thing she wanted to do was act as if she didn’t. In her mind, however, there was a big difference between trusting the Lord and being careless. Surely God didn’t expect His children to risk their lives if there was any other way to accomplish a goal.
Sara sighed. Therein lay the answer. Sometimes it was necessary to take chances when that was the only option for the good of others. To be the person you were intended to be. To make the most of one’s brief time on earth.
Slipping on the first pair of pants she checked herself in the dressing room mirror, satisfied she’d chosen the right size. As she redressed, her mind refused to let go of thoughts involving her trip to Texas. Had she failed a God-given mission when she hadn’t accompanied her cousin on that last foray into the raging waters? Had her own fear held her back when she should have acted? The possibility was enough to bring tears to her eyes.
“Okay, knock it off,” Sara told herself. She didn’t want anyone to catch her crying. It had been bad enough when Adam had seen her tears. She certainly was not going to permit a public sobfest. Sniffling and swiping at her damp cheeks she slipped her shoes on, checked to make sure her credit card was still in her pocket, gathered up the items she’d decided to buy and left the dressing room.
Another door across from her was also opening. She barely noted its occupant until a woman’s voice screeched, “You!”
Sara stumbled to a stop. Her jaw dropped. And the tears she’d thought were under control began to course down her flushed cheeks.
“Aunt Helen, I’m so, so sorry.”
The older woman’s arms opened as if offering a hug. Sara started forward, all the while weeping.
When she got within reach, Helen drew back and slapped Sara’s cheek so hard it felt as if she’d plunged a hundred sharp needles into the tender flesh.
Sara instinctively covered her face with both hands. The loose clothing went flying. Helen screamed epithets and launched into a full-blown attack, swinging, slapping and pummeling Sara with her fists.
Filled with remorse and guilt, deserved or not, Sara ducked and took the punishment without lifting a hand in her own defense.
* * *
Adam knew it couldn’t be Sara he was hearing. Even at her worst she’d never have used such unacceptable language. However, given her latest problems, he did suspect she was somehow involved.
He abandoned the shopping cart and hurried toward the disturbance. A female clerk in a blue vest tried to stop him. “You can’t go in there, sir. It’s ladies only.”
“Sounds like somebody’d better have a look,” he countered, pushing past her. A melee was taking place in a corner of the hallway leading to the row of dressing rooms. The person screaming and flailing was an older woman who was bent over a slim figure curled into a fetal position. Sara! Helen Babcock had Sara down and was beating her.
It took only one of Adam’s muscular arms encircling the attacker’s waist to stop the carnage. He held Helen facing away from him, kicking and screaming, and used his free hand to reach out to Sara.
She was trembling, gasping and sobbing so much she acted as though she didn’t even see him. “Sara? It’s okay now. I’ve stopped her.”
Although he had, he wasn’t sure what he was going to do with his struggling prisoner until he spotted Will Babcock hurrying toward him. “Mother!” The younger man drew back a fist. “Let go of her!”
“I will as soon as she stops trying to beat up Sara,” Adam said, gladly passing the hysterical woman to her strapping son.
The moment he was free of that burden, Adam kneeled beside Sara and gently cupped her shoulders, lifting her chin to make her look at him. “I’m here, honey. It’s over. You’re safe.”
Hope and relief filled her expression despite the redness of her face and copious tears. “Adam!”
“Can you stand up?”
“I—I think so.”
Cradling her beside him he caressed her damp cheeks. “Are you okay?”
All she did was nod her head and sniffle. A concerned clerk handed her a wad of tissues.
“Are you hurt?” Adam asked.
“N-no. She just caught me off guard.”
“Why didn’t you fight back?”
“Against Helen? I couldn’t. I practically grew up at her house with Vicki. It would be like hitting my own mother.”
“Still...” Adam glared at the older woman, now collapsed in her son’s arms. “We should call the police.”
Sara was adamant. “No. Don’t.”
Helen behaved as if she was now numb but Will had plenty to say. “The police? Haven’t you done enough to my family? Look at my poor mother. You’ve destroyed her.”
Adam pulled Sara closer, sensing her need for physical as well as emotional support. “She didn’t do anything to you or your family, Will. Criminals in Texas may have but Sara had nothing to do with that.”
“She was there. She should have protected my little sister. They were supposed to be friends.”
“They were very close,” Adam countered. “If you’ll look in your sister’s diary and read the pages from the time she and Sara were on the mission trip, maybe you’ll understand about the thefts she uncovered.”
“Oh, sure. Blame it on fictitious crooks. Anything but put the blame where it belongs.”
“Read the book, Will. And when you have, turn it over to the police the way the chief asked.”
“What do you mean?”
“Chief Magill approached your mother with a request to examine your sister’s journal. She read him the riot act and turned him down.” He eyed Helen’s shaking shoulders. Her face was buried against Will’s chest and, although she had stopped screeching, she was obviously still very distraught.
“I’m not going to dishonor Vicki by letting the public read her private thoughts. No way.”
“Not even when doing it might point to her killer?”
“My sister drowned. Period.”
“Are you sure?”
“The death certificate says so.”
Adam was nodding. He felt Sara’s arms tightening around his waist and sensed that she was recovering, so he gave her time to join the conversation. When she didn’t, he went on. “What if she was murdered for something she uncovered while she was taking inventory of supplies for the group?”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.” Adam stared at the other man, willing him to listen. “You’ll never know for sure unless you look at Vicki’s notes. We think that’s what the arsonists were after when they torched your sister’s rental and almost killed Bessie Alt in the process.”
Will’s arms were still around his mother, comforting her, but he was clearly antagonistic toward anyone else. “That place blew up because Bessie had oxygen tanks inside. You think I don’t read the papers?”
“What makes you think journalists know everything? Huh? The police keep facts to themselves even after cases are solved, and Vicki’s case is far from it. Just look, that’s all we ask.”
“We? I should have known,” Will countered with a sneer. “Everybody used to call you, Sara and Vicki the Three Musketeers. Too bad you let my sister die.”
Adam felt Sara shudder against him. He knew she was innocent but the stigma remained. It would never go away until and unless the Babcock family publically forgave her, and even then there would probably be diehard critics who would never believe in her innocence.
Why had he come to believe in her unquestionable innocence? He had no answer. Maybe he never would. But he knew in his heart that she’d have acted to save her dear cousin if she’d seen any way to do so. That was good enough for Adam.
Now all he had to do was make it be enough for all the others. He thought he’d won over the police and sheriff to his point of view and most of his fellow firefighters probably supported
her, too, since she was an active volunteer medic. It was the lay population of Paradise who still needed convincing.
He clenched his jaw as he stared at the Babcocks. Find the journal and read it, Will, Adam thought, wishing he could project those ideas directly into the man’s brain.
Although a sparse crowd had gathered when the melee was going on, people were now starting to disperse. On the fringes of the ladies’ wear department, small groups whispered among themselves. Mothers protected children. Husbands shooed curious wives down the nearest aisles.
The more the area cleared, the more Adam relaxed. Sara was dabbing at the last of her tears, taking shuddering breaths and blowing her nose. A clerk had gathered up the new clothes she’d dropped when Helen had attacked her and put them in a cart. Things were settling down. Which is probably why he noticed the one anomaly.
A lone man was standing apart from everyone else and staring at them across the racks of clothes. He was young, muscular and dressed as casually as everyone else, yet there was something off about him.
Adam met his gaze. Sized him up. Attempted to memorize his rugged features, noting the tattoos visible on his neck and forearms. Was he just another curious shopper? Maybe. But if he was, where was his shopping cart?
Adam nudged Sara. “Look, honey. Over there.”
“What? Where?” She sniffled again.
He pointed with a tilt of his head and a lift of his chin. “There. That guy. Do you recognize him?”
As Sara turned to look, Adam did, too. The aisle was empty. The man was gone.
“Who?”
“I thought I saw a stranger, that’s all. Forget about it.” But Adam wouldn’t forget. The menacing image of the man he’d spotted was burned into his brain. If he saw him again he’d know him in an instant.
A shiver shot up Adam’s spine. It wasn’t merely the chance of seeing that man again. He had to see him first.
Before the guy had an opportunity to get close enough to harm Sara.
THIRTEEN
Sara was so spent from the ordeal in the store she was going to abandon her garment choices until Adam stepped in. “You may as well go ahead and buy the stuff. It will save us another trip to the store.”
Us. That sounded good, particularly after he’d had to come to her rescue again. Poor Helen had never been one of the people she’d feared so the attack had come as a shock. Oh, she could understand why the older woman had lost control. It wasn’t that. She’d simply misjudged how Helen might act. If they hadn’t accidentally run into each other so soon, Vicki’s mother might have had time to progress through her grief and not react so violently.
But they had met. And the result had been so upsetting Sara wanted to bury her face in her hands, start crying and never stop. At one time she’d believed she and Helen were close. Like family, even. So to have her screaming accusations and hysterically hitting made Sara so sad she could hardly bear it. That kind of punishment from a stranger would not have hurt nearly as much.
Moving in a fog of emotions and relying on Adam to shepherd her out of the store, Sara was in the parking lot almost before she knew it.
He looped the handles of the plastic bags around his wrist and held out his hand. “Car keys?”
“Huh? Oh.” She reached into her pocket. “Here.”
“Where to next?”
Sighing, she settled herself in the passenger seat. “I don’t know. I don’t really care right now.”
“Gotcha. We were going to have lunch. What sounds good?”
Her dry wit pushed its way up from her subconscious and made her say, “Crow?”
“Don’t beat yourself up, Sara. You didn’t do anything wrong, before or since Texas.”
“I keep telling myself that, so why do I feel so guilty?”
“Because you have a heart for others. You care. That’s probably what led you to become a nurse. I have the same problem when things don’t go as planned at a fire or rescue.”
“So what do you do about it?”
“Try to do better the next time and the time after that and so on. I once had a very wise instructor who was asked about the percentages of success administering CPR. Know what she said?”
Sara silently shook her head.
“She said, ‘It’s not up to you to make it work. Your job is to do exactly what you’ve been trained for, to the best of your ability, and leave the results up to God.’”
“She said that? Right in class?”
“Yes. And I still remember her words to this day. She was right on. We are expected to do the best with what we know in any circumstance. That’s it. Vicki made a judgment call and it was the wrong one. Her loss is not on your shoulders. She died because she made the wrong decision instead of using the good sense God gave her.”
“She was a believer. A Christian.”
“Which means that you and I are promised we’ll see her again one day, but that’s not the same as believing the Lord was going to bail her out if and when she acted foolishly.”
Sara got his message, she truly did, although she didn’t like hearing it put quite that way. “Are you trying to comfort me or giving me a lecture about not taking chances?”
“A little of both.” He started her car and backed out of the parking place. “I’m going to take you to the drive-in just up the highway so we can order and eat sitting right where we are.”
“Fine. I don’t care.”
“No rules against fries or catsup in your car?”
She huffed softly as she glanced over at him. “Was there ever?”
“Just checking.”
The hint of a smile quirked one corner of his mouth and she could tell he was doing his best to lift her spirits. That was Adam all over. He not only cared that she was physically safe; he showed concern for her mood, as well.
Sara appreciated his efforts enough to try to respond the way she knew he wanted her to. She wrestled down her depression and worked up a smile. Just for him. Just for her last best friend in the world.
“We can use the bags the food comes in to collect our trash,” she said. “I won’t object to eating in here unless you start a food fight.”
“Have I ever—”
She interrupted with a firm, “Yes.”
“That was a long time ago. I was a dumb kid.”
Sighing, Sara felt her smile spreading as she envisioned their youth and the fun they’d shared. “You were never a dumb anything, Adam. You may have been ornery and troublesome and the biggest joker in town but you were always intelligent.”
He sobered. “I made my share of mistakes.”
“Yeah. We all did.”
Their conversation was suspended as Adam wheeled in the fast-food-restaurant driveway and pulled into one of the angled dining spaces. Sara was far more interested in hearing him enumerate his mistakes than she was in eating. To her dismay, he dropped the subject and she lost her opportunity to probe without making a big deal of it. Had he been thinking about his choice to leave town when she was eighteen? Did he consider that a serious error? Perhaps. But it was just as likely that he was thinking he should have stayed and married Vicki. After all, she’d been the one who threw herself at him, and what virile young man wouldn’t have been thrilled to be the object of such tangible affection?
Sara relaxed in the front seat and let Adam order for her. It was heartwarming to hear that he remembered her favorites. She could just as easily have predicted what he would order, except for the drink. Soda had been replaced by plain ice tea.
Although her head was laid back, her eyes closed, she could feel his closeness, revel in his presence beside her. It wasn’t a surprise when he took her hand. She wove her fingers between his and held tight. “Being here like this takes me back. You?”
“Yes.” The low rumble of his voice touched every nerve in her body.
A surprising sense of rightness and peace surged through her, coming to rest in her wounded heart. This was one of those precious moments that were all too rare and therefore totally memorable.
A carload of teens, including Adam and Sara, used to come to this drive-in after school and following Friday night football games to share snacks and playfully tease each other rather than settle down in specific couples. Or so it had seemed at the time.
In retrospect, Sara recalled the way her cousin had flirted with all the boys and sometimes focused her romantic interest on one of them for a short while. Adam had been slightly older, Vicki a little younger, so he had treated her as if he were her big brother most of the time.
Most, but not all, Sara reminded herself. By the time Vicki turned eighteen he was already a marine. Who knows what might have happened if he’d stayed in Paradise? Might he have fallen for Vicki all the way and married her?
Adam had seemed a bit frazzled when Vicki had thrown her arms around his neck and planted a kiss on his lips in parting. And his gaze had darted to her, Sara, rather than concentrating on that embarrassing action. For the first time, it occurred to Sara that he might have been avoiding her cousin, rather than her. Was that possible? Had he been silently pleading for understanding? For rescue? For a change of partners that Sara had not been prepared to provide? If so, was it too late to rectify her error of omission?
She opened her eyes as she gave his hand a squeeze and released it, adding a gentle smile to soften the parting. Adam looked a little confused by her mellower mood. Well, he wasn’t the only one. Introspection usually brought increased emotional upheaval. This time, however, those thoughts had soothed her spirit.
“I think I am getting hungry,” she said brightly. “I’m glad you insisted on lunch.”
He was staring at her as if she’d climbed out the window and begun clogging like a folk dancer on the hood of the car. Imagining herself doing that widened her smile.
His brow furrowed. “What’s so funny?”
Fatal Threat Page 11