Laughing lightly and wondering if it was possible to be any happier, Lindy landed a playful blow on his shoulder and said, “Part of it certainly was.”
“We’re gonna get married!” Danny said, regarding the adults as if they were both acting ridiculous.
“Oh, that. Yeah, I guess I do recall mentioning that.” Thad was gazing tenderly at Lindy as he pulled her into his arms. “Maybe you’d better do something to keep me from forgetting again.”
Lindy made a contented sound and lifted her face to accept his kiss. This was one experience she was certainly never going to forget.
And judging by his loud cheering and jumping up and down, neither was her little boy.
* * * * *
Keep reading for an excerpt of Threat of Darkness by Valerie Hansen!
Dear Reader,
This is the third book for The Defenders and will hopefully not be the last. I have other commitments to fulfill before I can write more about CASA, though, so we’ll all have to wait and see—me, included.
Post-traumatic stress disorder may not be as easy to overcome in real life as I have portrayed it on these pages. If you know someone who is suffering from PTSD, please don’t assume that they will find such quick healing, although I pray that many will. My heart breaks for the men and women in our armed services who daily lay their lives on the line for the rest of us and who suffer so deeply, even if they come home physically uninjured. If you see people in uniform or meet veterans, shake their hands and thank them. I do that as often as possible.
If you want to write to me, email will bring the fastest reply: [email protected]. If you would rather write a letter, my address is P.O. Box 13, Glencoe, AR 72539. There are book excerpts and other interesting info on www.valeriehansen.com.
Blessings,
Questions for Discussion
1. Lindy is very wary of everyone when this story begins. Can you understand why she would emotionally withdraw like that after seeing her husband killed?
2. When Thad Pearson is introduced to Lindy, he is still coming to terms with unexpected changes in his plans for his future. Do you feel bad if things don’t go just as you think they should? Is that productive?
3. Lindy is focused on her child above everything else, including her own happiness. Is that wise? Will it be good for Danny?
4. Lindy keeps telling herself that she is better off single. Have you ever made up your mind about something and then wondered later if you might be wrong?
5. Hackers steal Lindy’s computer files and ruin her credit. Have you ever had that happen to you? Can you see how frustrating it would be to know you’re in the right and not be able to prove it?
6. Lindy’s late husband, Ben, was a white-collar criminal. She assumes that others in the community see her as just as guilty as Ben was. Is it human nature to spread the blame like that?
7. As Lindy begins working for Thad at Pearson Products, her son seems to become more settled, too. Have you ever noticed how one family member’s mood can affect everyone—either positively or negatively?
8. Thad teaches Sunday school to help himself feel as if he’s making amends to children, including his brother’s orphaned kids. Is that logical? Will it really do him good?
9. Lindy’s return to church is hard for her after having been away for months. Do you go to church? Why or why not? Are you waiting for someone to ask you? (If you’re waiting for the congregation to become perfect first it might be a long wait!)
10. The CASA representatives in my stories are just regular folks who care deeply about children. Have you ever known someone who volunteered like this? Could you do it? Why or why not?
11. The town of Serenity has both a regular police force and a county sheriff. Do you think the officers in such a small community would have the kind of success that city cops do? A hint: the police where I live, in the rural Ozarks, solve an amazing number of crimes.
12. During times of danger and upheaval, many townspeople gather to watch what’s happening, such as when smoke pours from the jail. Is that what you’d do? Would you be ready to help if asked?
13. When Thad figures out that there are more factions after Lindy than they had thought, he puts his life on the line to save her. Isn’t that totally in character for a man who was a dedicated marine?
14. In the Bible, money isn’t called the root of all evil. Did you know that? It’s “the love of money” that causes the problems (I Timothy 6:10). Can you see why James Reed was willing to sacrifice everything?
15. I waited until Lindy and Thad had confessed their love for each other before mentioning that they had earned a big reward. That wasn’t an accident. Do you know people who thought having money would solve all their problems, then later found out it wasn’t so? Think about Hollywood and television celebrities. Is the problem the money itself or how they live their everyday lives?
We hope you enjoyed this Harlequin Love Inspired Suspense story.
You enjoy a dash of danger. Love Inspired Suspense stories feature strong heroes and heroines whose faith is central in solving mysteries and saving lives.
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ONE
The keening wails echoing down the usually quiet halls of the Serenity Medical Center made the hair on the back of Samantha Rochard’s neck prickle. Every natural instinct told her to flee. Instead, her experience as a registered nurse sent her racing toward the sound of misery.
A doctor, white coat flying behind him, shoved her aside and burst through the curtain into an E.R. exam cubicle. She heard him start to speak. Then, his words were abruptly cut off.
A sixth sense brought Samantha to a skidding halt before the weighted curtain had stopped swinging behind him. Was that scuffling? Fighting? A thud?
She peeked through a slit between the panels. Dr. Weiss, the physician who had elbowed her out of his way, lay on the floor, moaning. A thin, scraggly figure she judged to be male stood with his back to her. The only thing about him that caught her attention and held it was the small, silver-colored revolver he was waving.
Samantha wheeled and flattened herself against a nearby wall. Hands trembling, she pulled out her cell phone, called 911 and cupped her hands around the instrument to muffle her speech.
“We need help at the medical center. Hurry.”
“What’s the nature of your emergency, ma’am?”
“I don’t know.” Samantha wanted to shout instead of whispering. “I heard a scream and…”
When the dispatcher interrupted to ask, “Is that you again, Ms. Rochard?” she figured her r
eport wasn’t going to be taken seriously. So what else was new?
“Look,” Samantha said, “we’ve got a guy in our E.R. with a gun. Isn’t that enough?”
“Okay. Stay where you are and let us handle it.” There was a rumble of conversation and beeping noises in the background before the dispatcher returned. “We have units on the way. Stay on the line with me.”
Samantha was about to reply when someone grabbed a fistful of her shoulder-length, dark hair and jerked her off her feet. The cell phone hit the floor with a splintering crack. She was being dragged backward into the exam area where Dr. Weiss lay!
Her scalp felt as though it was on fire. She couldn’t think. Couldn’t reason. All she could do was keep screaming “No! No!” and try to regain her balance enough to fight back.
The attacker flung her aside like a sack of dirty laundry. She landed hard. The instant she looked up she knew who had manhandled her. It was one of the teenage Boland boys. What’s his first name? Why can’t I remember? Marty, Jimmy, Bobby? It was Bobby. Bobby Joe. At least that sounded right.
Shying away while her thoughts whirled, Samantha stared at the young man in the tattered jeans and T-shirt. His eyes were wide and darting, their pupils dilated. He was under the influence for sure, which made him even more unpredictable. His demeanor reminded her of an animal caught in the jaws of a steel trap and willing to chew its own leg off to escape.
She licked her lips and found her voice. “Hey, it’s me. Samantha Rochard. You’re—you’re Bobby Joe, right? I used to go to school with your big sisters. Remember?”
His eyes flickered. His body was shaking so uncontrollably his hand kept jerking. The hand with the gun in it. “I—I know,” he stammered. “I came to see you ’cause you’re a nurse.”
“Okay. I’m here,” Samantha said with forced calm. “I’m going to get up now, Bobby. Will you let me do that?”
His nod was quick, twitchy. “Yeah.”
Using the edge of the exam table to steady herself she kept her concentration on the teen’s face, waiting for him to do something else irrational thanks to his drug-induced paranoia. The biggest plus of the whole situation was the fact that she knew all of the Boland kids had been raised with strong morals and lots of love, even if they hadn’t had much else.
Samantha took a deep, settling breath and squared her shoulders. “I’m listening,” she told the skinny, long-haired teen. “Why did you want to see me?”
He stepped aside so Samantha could view the occupant of the narrow gurney for the first time. A homemade quilt wrapped a frail, blond child about two years old. The little body lay quiet. Too quiet.
Whipping her stethoscope from around her neck she pushed the teen aside, threw back the edges of the quilt and began to check the child’s vital signs. There was a heartbeat! Thank You, God.
“What happened?” she demanded.
“I don’t know. I was just watchin’ him for a friend and…”
“How long? How long has he been like this?”
Instead of answering, the gunman stepped back and began to weep as if his heart was breaking.
Samantha was no longer concerned about anything except the ill child. “Talk to me, Bobby Joe. Tell me everything.”
Sobbing was all she heard so she doubled her efforts. “Listen. Time matters. If you think he swallowed something I need to know what and when. Talk to me. Help me save him.” She was searching for injuries on the little body as she spoke and finding none.
The young man sank to the floor near Dr. Weiss’s feet. Samantha heard him mumble something about a stash and the little boy being too curious. That was enough to get started. She threw aside the curtain surrounding one end of the exam area and found herself staring at a trio of quaking coworkers.
“Narcan,” Samantha shouted. “And find me a doctor who’s conscious enough to give the order to administer.”
“I can do it,” Weiss said, rolling onto his hands and knees and pausing before pulling himself erect. He cast a wary glance at the assailant who was still babbling incoherently, then nodded at a middle-aged nurse who stood outside the immediate area. “You. Alice. You heard her. Meds. Stat. And somebody order a chopper. We’ll transport to Children’s in Little Rock as soon as we stabilize.”
“Respirations are slow, pulse rapid and weak,” Samantha told him.
“That figures.” Weiss blew a sigh. “I’ll start an IV while you give him half the dose IM. If the problem isn’t opiate-induced, Narcan won’t hurt him.”
“Right.” She administered the injection while other nurses and the doctor worked on the opposite side of the gurney.
The sound of approaching sirens caught her attention. Tensing, she eyed Bobby Joe. He apparently hadn’t noticed that the police were almost there.
“Vitals are improving. Somebody take my place for a second,” Samantha said before leaving the patient in other capable hands and going to crouch beside the distraught teen.
“We’ve given the boy an antidote and he’s starting to respond. It’s going to be okay.” Reaching for his weapon and closing her hand around it, she made sure it was pointing in a safe direction, then exerted steady pressure. “You can let go. Give me the gun, Bobby Joe. Everything’s under control.”
Relieved beyond words when he did as she asked, Samantha stood, holding out the small, silver pistol, butt first and muzzle direction safely diverted, just the way she’d taken it from its owner.
Several police officers were already approaching warily when she turned to face them. Their guns were drawn, their expressions deadly serious so she announced, “You can relax, fellas. Everything’s under control. I got his gun away from him for you.”
One deputy sidled past her to cuff the addict while another stepped up and took the pistol from her hand.
If Samantha hadn’t already been so keyed up that she could barely think straight, she might have shrieked when she saw that cop’s face. Her jaw did drop and she was pretty sure her gasp was audible. His light brown hair and eyes and his broad shoulders were all too familiar. It couldn’t be him, of course. It simply couldn’t be. She hadn’t had one of these déjà vu moments for months. Maybe years.
Her pulse leaped as reality replaced imagination. She couldn’t catch her breath. This was not another bad dream. John Waltham, the man who’d broken her heart so badly she’d wondered if she’d ever recover, was standing right in front of her, big as life.
Before she could decide how to greet him, he set the mood of their reunion. His “What did you think you were doing?” was delivered with such force it was practically a growl.
That attitude stiffened her spine and made it easy to answer, “My job.”
“You’re a nurse, not a cop.”
“Oh, so I’m supposed to just stand there while you and your buddies waltz in here and start shooting?”
“If necessary, yes.”
“Don’t be silly. I knew Bobby Joe wasn’t going to hurt me,” she insisted, wishing she fully believed her own assertion. When an addict was under the influence there was no way to predict what he or she might do.
Handling the pistol expertly, John unloaded it and passed it to one of his fellow officers to bag as evidence before turning back to Samantha.
/> She noticed that his expression had softened some but it was too little too late. She was already bristling. “What are you doing back in town?” She eyed him from head to toe. “And why are you dressed like a member of our police force?”
“Because that’s what I am. I’ve come home,” he said flatly.
Samantha couldn’t believe her ears. After all he’d put her through, all the tears she’d shed after he’d left her high and dry, he had the unmitigated gall to return and go back to work as if nothing had changed. How dare he!
* * *
Seeing Samantha again had been disquieting to begin with. Seeing her with the perp’s loaded gun in her hand had dealt him such a staggering blow he’d almost been rendered speechless.
Although Sam was prettier than ever, she now exhibited an element of authority and expertise that floored him. The last time they’d been together Sam had clung to him, crying and begging him to stay in Serenity. She’d acted as if she couldn’t bear to see him go and was positive she couldn’t live without him.
Now, however, she was behaving with such self-assurance he was stunned. His high school sweetheart had grown up in his absence. Boy, had she!
Waiting until the addict had been escorted to a patrol car and stuffed into the backseat, John approached her for the second time.
She looked up from her task of packaging the quilt and the child’s clothing. She didn’t speak, didn’t smile.
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