He picked my hand up again. “And I have the deepest peace. About me… and about you. But here’s one thing I know—God is bigger than my need for you. Believe me, this is not a man saying this in his own power, because I need you more than life itself. But my God is bigger, even bigger than my love. And He’s given me an abiding peace about you. About Sam. About us.”
He sighed, sorrow creeping into his voice. “I can see and feel you trying to sabotage this relationship. But I’m here to tell you, beautiful—that can’t be done.”
He took a deep breath and let it out. “I’m a good man, a man who loves you, loves our little Samantha, and loves the God who stands behind you both. And I. Can. Wait. For. You.” He kissed my hand, his lips feather soft and damp. A tear? “And I will.”
Commitment resonated through his words. “So hear me, Jo Oliver. I’m taking a step back from you, from us. Because even I recognize this isn’t our time. But I need you to recognize this: our time will come. And I’ll leave that up to you and God.”
What? Was he leaving me behind?
Wasn’t that what I said I wanted? My guts churned through the soft morphine haze.
Amusement danced in his eyes. He leaned in, his lips close to my ear. “Hey, hey, hey! Don’t cry, beautiful! I’ll be back. Look, here’s how you can know.”
He leaned away from me and stood up, rummaging around in his pockets. He found what he was after and bent back to the bed, pressing something cold and hard into my hand.
I looked up into gorgeous eyes and found an ocean of love and longing. And a smirk.
“That’s right. My prized possession is now in your possession. And you know I’ll want it back. What could possibly be more important to a man than his Leatherman?” He winked at me, inviting me into the warmth of him—the truth of him.
He was a wonderful man. A solid man. Any other woman would kill to be in my position. Kira literally had killed to be in my position. I just held tight onto his Leatherman, blinking back tears in silence.
“All I ask is that you bring your fears into the light. Remember, God is not a God of fear. But of peace and of power. Do you hear me? Our God is a God of love. And perfect love casts out fear. That’s what I want for us—a perfect love.”
He kissed my ear, kissed my cheek. Kissed away a salty tear shed as the beauty of his words filleted me. “So I’ll stand back, but not down. To give God room to soften the edge of your fear. And help you put it down. That’s my prayer for you.”
And with that, he kissed my hand again, and stepped out of the room.
I lay in the bed, swarming with emotion. Then I pressed the button on the morphine pump. Hard.
Elephants in tutus and merchants in top hats marched up and down the dirt roads of a Wild West set. I forced my eyes open just as a giant boa constrictor’s wide-open jaws scratched the top of my head. My reward was the ceiling’s gentle swaying. Then it ratcheted up to out-of-control carousel speed, and I shut my eyes tight.
I sucked in air until my lungs ached. God? Remember me? Are You up there? The long, slow exhalation spread drowsiness down my body. I squeezed Nick’s Leatherman, its hard steel edges and the contrasting warmth of its leather-wrapped handle.
Large, dark swans swooped low overhead. Graceful, otherworldly, foreboding. The most beautiful of the swans fell away from the head of the formation and dove straight toward me. The beauty disintegrated into evil. Its beak turned into the vicious jaws of a great white shark. I lay there, paralyzed, while the threat careened toward me. It was less than ten feet away when I woke up.
The graceful swan loomed over me. I shook my head, blinked, and looked again at the apparition. Scrubs, hair pulled back—it was a tall nurse with dark hair. I couldn’t make out the nametag, but I knew her, didn’t I? There was something about her face. Something dark and alarming.
She looked down at me with a sneer, her lips moving. What was she saying?
Focus Josie, focus. I closed my eyes once more, shook my head twice, and opened them again. The smooth flow of the IV drip wavered out of focus, and the lithe figure etched in white against the gray-walled backdrop of the room came into view. Her face was shining, her eyes were dark, and she held a needle in her hand.
Through the smog of morphine, I looked right at her and laughed. Dressed as a cartoon-like nurse, looming large and threatening me with an oversized needle, was hilarious.
Kira, however, was not amused.
Black rage covered her features, and the needle started to tremble. My eyes widened, but I couldn’t hold back the laughter. This was all wrong, and that made it seem even funnier. Her enraged face seemed to swell as she stood over me.
She pushed the plunger on the hypodermic needle to squeeze out any air.
“Wh, why bodder if you gonna kill me anyway?” My tongue wasn’t working. I couldn’t get the words out straight.
Her head shook angrily as she flicked the tip of the needle with the end of her middle finger. She cocked an eyebrow, staring down at me in surprise. “You’re drunk. How quaint.”
She smiled tightly while her eyes raged on.
She was going to kill me. This was it. Her one wide-open shot at getting the scopolamine overdose into my system in a way that no one would ever suspect. I’d die without a fuss, without a whimper. Without a witness. Would it hurt? Would I even feel it?
Nick’s face floated across the room, and I smiled. And then the deepest sense of peace I’d ever known fell all around me like a protective shield. My heart turned to Heaven and something in me shifted. Nick. I want Nick.
Kira’s contorted face wobbled over my bed. Her lips were still moving. She was taunting me, but her words came out as gibberish to my glazed brain. Her voice rose, and she jabbed the needle in the air, emphasizing some point.
I shrank back in my bed. Nick. His staunch declaration of love and patience, standing up next to the truth as it wound its way through the hazy spindles of my mind. The picture of the three of us, nestled happily in each other’s arms, burst through my haze in Technicolor. I wanted to live. To love. To wrap my arms around the three of us and never let go.
My right hand was wrapped around something flat, with sharp edges. A flashdrive? Too big. My cell phone? Too small. I clenched my fist again, sharp tines digging into my hand. Utensil of some kind. The Leatherman!
Nick’s special-order Leatherman with the illegal switchblade. “Makes it easier to fillet a fish.” He was so proud of another of Gino’s uniquely adjusted, repurposed gifts. My thumb roved over the handle, finding the round indentation. Gotcha.
Kira’s soliloquy continued. I turned my head from side to side and kept my eyes down, signifying defeat. She raised her voice and soldiered on. Every other word was a curse. She wasn’t very happy I was alive. And she had every intention of fixing that very soon.
I squeezed out a few tears and looked up at her. Keep talking, Kira. She rewarded me with a fresh onslaught. I edged my right hand down my thigh, just under the edge of the sheet to conceal it. Then I coughed and pressed the button. The thin blade swooshed out, ready for action.
Forcing more fake tears out, I gave her what satisfaction I could, buying more time. I squinted as if in fear, judging the distance. Closer. I need to get her closer.
She was still talking, still gloating. “You think you’ve stopped me? Once your death hits our pathetic Nick, I win. It’s as good as killing both of you. Better.”
She stared at me and leaned in. My eyes opened wide as if in fear, and she smiled. I willed my dry lips to move, managed enough energy to smirk, but not open my mouth.
A spark of surprise flashed through her eyes, and she bent down to hear what I was trying to say. I slipped the blade from beneath the covers and eased my hand up to my hip, hovering an inch above the bed. Come closer. Then I concentrated on moving my lips. I clenched my stomach, forcing air up, and whispered to her. “Kira, what…”
Hearing her name seemed to please her. She bent her knees and drew closer, hooking her thu
mb over the bed frame, still holding the syringe. I moved my lips again, luring her in while dragging the Leatherman up another two inches, fully in position. It was now or never.
I thrust that thing in her belly, twisting and ripping like I was eviscerating a pig. Blood shot out over me. Her intestines spilled out, but I kept the pressure on the blade. She fell onto me, mouth opening and closing, wildly slashing the air with the scopolamine-filled needle. My free hand scrambled to find the call button, and I pressed down.
I did my best to pull the blade back, but the weight of her body and gravity teamed up against me. In the end, I inched it out as far as I could, and held on to Nick’s Leatherman like a talisman. A river of warmth flowed over my body. Was she bleeding out?
Please don’t let her die, God.
Did I want her to live? I needed her to live, to account for her crimes. Provide some closure for the victims’ families.
The wedge of swans returned. White ones and black ones, of all shapes and sizes. Some were honking—others wore grim silence like a badge. No, not like badges. They wore badges. A bag of cement was lifted from my body. Cold, wet, sticky rolls of paper were left behind. I wanted them off, but I was unable to move. Had she plunged the scopolamine in before she fell?
Hands pulled at my fingers. What did they want from me now? Why wouldn’t they all fly away? Ah. The knife. They wanted the Leatherman. Well, they couldn’t have it.
Some women wanted diamonds. I clenched my fingers tighter around Nick’s Leatherman and smiled. He’d already given me everything I wanted, everything I needed. It might have been the drugs, but that strong, soothing sense of peace permeated me as I rode the current up into the air and floated away on swan’s wings.
THANK YOU!
I hope you enjoyed Shattered by Death! I need to ask you a favor. Would you help others enjoy this book too?
Recommend it. Please help other readers find this book by recommending it to friends in person and on social media.
Review it. Reviews can be tough to come by these days. You, the reader, have the power to make or break a book. Loved it, hated it – I’d just enjoy your feedback. Please tell other readers what you thought about this book by reviewing it at Amazon, Barnes and Noble, or Goodreads. My goal is to have 100 honest reviews on Amazon. Will you help me reach that goal?
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If you do write a review, I invite you to email a link to your review to [email protected] and you will be entered in a drawing to receive a free copy of HopeSprings Books’ next novel as a way of thanking you!
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Thank you so much for reading Shattered by Death and for spending time with me.
In gratitude,
Catherine Finger
DISCUSSION QUESTIONS
1.Jo Oliver struggles with her faith. Gino serves as her spiritual mentor. What faith struggles do you experience? Who do you turn to when you need to work through your faith issues?
2.How does Jo Oliver cope with the pain of betrayal in her life? Do you think she works to avoiding feeling pain? What do you do to avoid feeling pain? What can you do to begin growing through that area of your life?
3.Part of Jo’s journey has to do with reconciliation with her past, and with her faith. What does she do to make peace with her past and what part does her faith play in this process?
4.Jo Oliver is a strong female leader in a man’s world. Does she face gender discrimination? What examples support your response?
5.Do you think the portrayal of Jo Oliver as a female police chief is realistic? Why or why not?
6.Jo Oliver’s struggle to become a mother to Samantha is a constant theme. What are some of her fears related to motherhood? How does she overcome them? Do these fears resonate with your own experience?
7.The tension between Jo and Nick ebbs and flows, as do Jo’s feelings toward him. Why do you think she is so ambivalent about his role in her life? How do you think she really feels about him? What do you think she really wants?
8.Have you ever felt extreme ambivalence in a relationship? How did you handle it?
9.Justice is an underlying theme throughout Shattered Masks. At one point, Kira suggests that some people deserve to die. Do you think doing what is clearly the wrong thing is ever justified?
10. Jo Oliver has built a strong network of caring friends who stand by her in the midst of difficult circumstances. What do you see her doing to nurture her relationships with others? What do you do to keep your own personal sense of community strong?
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Like her heroine Police Chief Jo Oliver, Dr. Catherine Finger is committed to protect and serve. But instead of handcuffs and handguns, she uses her wit and wisdom as a high school superintendent in Grayslake, IL.
Learn more at CatherineFinger.com
Follow her on Facebook:
http://www.facebook.com/CatherineFingerAuthor/
Other books from Chalfont House Publishing
and its fiction imprint HopeSprings Books
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“Knights, Maidens and Dragons: Six medieval tales of virtue and valor drawn from ‘The Little Colonel’ series” by Julia Duin
“A is for Airstrip: A Missionary’s Jungle Adventure” by Marilyn Laszlo and Elizabeth Maddrey
“A Walk in the Valley: Christian encouragement for your journey through infertility” by Julie Arduini, Heidi Glick, Elizabeth Maddrey, Kym McNabney, Paula Mowery, Donna Winters, and Lynellen Perry
“How to Survive Your Teen’s Pregnancy: Practical Advice for the Parents of a Pregnant Christian Single” by Linda Perry and Lynellen Perry
“Speaking Confidence” by Lisa Bongiorno-Heidrich
“Daily Contentment With God” by Howard L. Ford
“Repairing His Story: Abortion Stress Recovery for Men” (Student Manual, and Leader’s Guide) by Lynellen Perry, Linda Perry, and Dennis Perry
“Repairing Her Story: Abortion Stress Recovery for Women” (Student Manual, and Leader’s Guide) by Lynellen Perry, Linda Perry, and Dennis Perry
“The Wisdom of the Sheep Walker: A companion journal to ‘The Sheep Walker’s Daughter’” by Sydney Avey
Fiction
Women’s Fiction:
“The Sheep Walker’s Daughter” by Sydney Avey
“The Lyre and the Lambs” by Sydney Avey
“Marriage Takes Three” by G.E. Hamlin
“Faith Departed” (Remnants, book 1) by Elizabeth Maddrey
“Hope Deferred” (Remnants, book 2) by Elizabeth Maddrey
“Love Defined” (Remnants, book 3) by Elizabeth Maddrey
“Mrs. Covington’s Sunday School Dropouts” by Connie Miller Pease
Contemporary Romance:
“Joint Venture” (Grant Us Grace, book 0) by Elizabeth Maddrey
“Serenity to Accept” (Grant Us Grace, book 3) by Elizabeth Maddrey
Historical Romance:
“Watercolor Dreams” by Sherry Kyle
“Friends & Enemies: A World War II Romance” (Promise for Tomorrow, book 1) by Terri Wangard
“No Neutral Ground: A World War II Romance” (Promise for Tomorrow, book 2) by Terri Wangard
Romantic Suspense:
“Fiery Secrets” by Stephanie McCall
Mystery:
“Not Guilty” (Windspree, book 1) by Teresa Pollard and Candi Pullen
“Not Ashamed” (Windspree, book 2) by Teresa Pollard and Candi Pullen
Thriller:
“Cleansed by Death” (A Jo Oliver Thriller, book 1) by Catherine Finger
Biblical Fiction:
“Tokens of Promi
se: A novel inspired by the life of Tamar” by Teresa Pollard
“Woman of Light: A novel inspired by the life of Deborah” by Teresa Pollard
Speculative Fiction:
“A Message to Deliver” by Jeremiah Peters
“The Visitor” by W.G. Reese
Young Adult Fiction:
“Promise of a Future” by Stephanie McCall
“Worth the Wait” (Waltham Academy, book 1) by Laura Jackson
“Worth the Time” (Waltham Academy, book 2) by Laura Jackson
Tween fiction:
“Hear No Evil” (Rustic Knoll Bible Camp, book 1) by Mary L. Hamilton
“Speak No Evil” (Rustic Knoll Bible Camp, book 2) by Mary L. Hamilton
“See No Evil” (Rustic Knoll Bible Camp, book 3) by Mary L. Hamilton
Short Story Anthologies:
“Out of the Storm” Winners of the 2014 "Storming the Short Story" contest, sponsored by The Woodlands, Texas, chapter of The American Christian Fiction Writers (ACFW).
“Dancing up a Storm” Winners of the 2015 “Storming the Short Story” contest, sponsored by The Woodlands, Texas, chapter of ACFW.
Shattered by Death (A Jo Oliver Thriller Book 2) Page 19