Alana Candler, Marked for Murder (12 page)

Jaydn glanced at her. “You should think about settling down. That’s a good prescription for loneliness.”

That statement surprised her so much that she forgot to maintain the curtain she pulled down over her emotions. “Have you ever been married?”

Even as the words slipped out, Alana tensed. What had made her ask him that?

Jaydn flashed a mocking grin. “The pot calling the kettle black?”

“Not exactly, but the same could apply for you as well. Your loneliness was shining through your independence when you commented on how homey Brad’s house was. It might be good for you to settle down too.”

Jaydn rubbed the back of his neck and then blew out a resigned breath of air.

“Actually, I’ve thought about it. It’s a nice idea, to go home to someone who loves you in spite of your faults, someone to share your life with.” He shrugged. “I guess I haven’t found the right woman yet.”

Alana nodded as if she understood and waited for him to change the subject, as she suspected he would.

“So, are you still working as a photographer?”

Her soft sigh of thankfulness to be pursuing a more general topic could be heard over the gentle hum of the engine, and she was afraid he might be laughing at her in the twilight.

“Yes, but mostly freelance now. I do magazine photos for a couple of clothing wholesalers and some local department stores. Sometimes I send in candid shots to magazines, just enough to keep food on the table. But, at least I can work where, when, and how long I want to work without having to answer to someone else.”

“I know the feeling.”

She looked at him and remembered the pressure he’d been under that day as well
. I guess you do
, she thought to herself, but asked aloud, “Do you like your job?”

“I guess so. It just seems oppressive at times—like the whole weight of the company rests on my shoulders. Know what I mean?”

Alana nodded. She felt that way today when she was trying hard to show appreciation for his kindness and everything fell apart.

“What do you do?”

Before he could answer, they rounded a curve and the lights of the hotel where she was attacked lit up the night sky. Alana shivered.

“Whatever you do, don’t stay at that hotel,” she said softly, still watching the building as if it could reach out and grab her.

The panic she felt was replaced by a serene quiet when she remembered God allowed everything in her life, and He would take care of her. Jaydn leaned forward in the seat and gave her a pointed look.

“A penny for your thoughts.”

“I was thinking about all the things that have happened to me in the last four days.”

“And,
that
put the calm expression on your face?” he asked with a surprised question on his face.

She smiled. “Not exactly, but it’s made me thankful for the things I do have. If you hadn’t come along at that particular time, I might not be here. God was taking care of me.”

Jaydn’s eyebrows lifted in amusement. “Well, it wasn’t God who pulled you out of the lake. How do you figure He’s the one who took care of you?”

“I believe He sent you to help me.” She sat watching his creased brow and the downward turn to his lips. “You don’t believe in God?” she asked simply.

Answering that question must have been hard, because he took forever. Then he glanced at her, and the look he gave her seemed to say, “She’s one of those,”—as if he could read the word “believer” stamped across her forehead.

“My dad claimed to believe in God. He informed us there was a loving God the whole time he drank . . . and swore . . . and beat my mom and my brother.” He blew out a pained breath. “. . .and me. He carried the Bible around with him everywhere and preached at us continually. In public, he was this perfect Christian, but at home . . .”

Compassion for little-boy-Jaydn hit Alana in the pit of her stomach.

He paused, and she watched him force some of the anger and frustration out of his voice.

“It took me years to realize his brand of religion wasn’t the real version. His idea of religion was just a bunch of hot air and lies. By that time, I didn’t know what I really believed. I had friends in high school and college who tried to get me to go to church, but I wasn’t ready to accept any brand of religion that had my dad’s name on it.”

Alana sat saddened. Believing in God was such a part of her life. Even growing up, she always went to church.

She turned in the seat and looked at the firm set of his jaw. “You said it took years to realize your father’s brand of religion wasn’t the real thing. What made you change your mind?”

“I guess it was the lives of my friends in college. They
lived
their religion. Many people
say
they believe in God, but live as if they don’t. You know what I mean?”

Alana nodded. She knew exactly what he meant. Sometimes she chided herself for making her beliefs a social religion instead of a personal relationship with her Father. “In other words, they talk the talk, but don’t walk the walk.”

“Exactly!” He sounded surprised that she would understand.

Alana tried to word her next sentence carefully, but she knew she had to speak from her heart. “In every group, there are those who don’t conform to what the rest of the group believes, but that doesn’t mean what the group stands for is wrong. Just because your dad
said
he was a Christian doesn’t mean he reflected what God is or what He stands for.”

Alana turned to look at him thoughtfully and knew she must ask the question. “What do you believe about God now?” she asked quietly.

“I don’t really know. I guess I haven’t thought about it. I stay too busy to wonder about such things.”

“Do you believe that God loves you?”

He raised an eyebrow as he glanced at her. “I’m not sure I believe there is a God.”

Her next comment was cut short as they pulled into Ross. She concentrated on giving directions to her apartment, but she felt a numbing sadness for someone who lived his life without knowing God. The Bible was clear— there is only
one
way to heaven—through Jesus Christ and His death on the cross. A person had to believe in God, repent of his sins, and accept Jesus as his Savior.

When they pulled into the parking lot of her apartment building, she sat back in her seat and listened to the motor hum.

“Are you sure you want to do this tonight?” he asked.

Alana nodded. “I want to get it over with, and get things back in order.”

“Okay. Let’s go.”

TWENTY-TWO

JAYDN AND ALANA STOOD STARING
at the front door of her apartment.

“Are you all right?” Jaydn asked as she hesitated at the door.

“I guess. I was hoping it was all a mistake, but . . .” She touched the marks around the door showing signs of forced entry. “. . .these marks confirm someone was here.”

The hairs on the back of Jaydn’s neck prickled when he inspected the gashes in the door frame.

Alana fumbled to open the door with trembling hands until Jaydn gently took the key from her. After pushing the key into the lock, he cautiously looked around inside before he let her enter.

“The air conditioning must be off,” Alana said as she entered the oppressively hot room.

Jaydn nodded and loosened his collar. He almost tripped over her when she bent to pick up pieces of a broken marble vase.

Tears welled up in her eyes as she laid the large pieces on the table beside the door. “Brad and Lisa gave me this for a house warming present when I moved in.”

When she glanced around, reality hit her, and her frame drooped. Obviously, Brandy’s phone call hadn’t prepared her for the devastation she would find.

A shiver shook her body. A stranger had rifled through her things—that would make anyone feel violated. She slowly walked around the demolished room. When she saw a selection of cameras pulled out of the video cabinet and smashed into thousands of pieces, she sank down on the ripped sofa cushions and rubbed her forehead.

“Why did they do this? What in the world would make someone—”

Suddenly, she stopped and glanced out the window—her thoughts far away. She closed her eyes briefly.

Jaydn waited patiently for her to regain control of her emotions as he looked at the confusion around him. He was appalled at what someone would do to another person’s property. The hairs on the back of his neck tingled again. Were they being watched? He glanced uncomfortably out the three-story window. No wonder Alana was upset. She must feel invaded and pursued. A protective instinct wrapped around his heart, and he turned—sensitive to her moves. When he saw her sink onto the sofa and hug the pillow, he could tell immediately she was praying. She was turning to her faith in a time of complete devastation and insecurity.

He watched her carefully as her lips moved, and when she raised her head, he asked if she had been praying.

She nodded. “God wants us to be a thankful people—even in this mess. It could have been a lot worse—I could have been home when they broke in.”

He looked at the darkness of her eyes and realized immediately she was completely sincere. There was no pretentious attitude or showy display of emotion. She was truly honest and outspoken with praise for her God.

His appreciation for her loyalty rose high on his scale of estimation, and a powerful sense of wistfulness bounced around in his brain. It would be nice to have such assurance of a Higher Being watching out for you, even in the middle of trials.

He watched as she stood and walked around the room. There were no signs of tears now, just peace smoothing out the wrinkles in her face and a gentle resignation.

“I don’t see anything missing in here, just broken, as far as I can tell,” she said finally after she inspected the three spaces in the large room.

Her lips quivered when she saw a framed photograph torn into shreds. It was a picture of a bee in mid-flight. She picked it up off the floor. “This is the photo that won second place in the National Geographic Contest.”

White dust speckled the surface of the picture. Alana frowned. “Wonder what this white stuff is.” She ran a finger through it and looked at her fingertip.

Jaydn took a look. Glancing around, he saw that more white dust was scattered on the carpet outside the bedroom door. His brow furrowed as he brought his gaze up and saw a thin rope hanging from the partially opened door. His senses snapped to attention—once again on full alert.

“What’s this?” He stood and turned his head to the side, trying to peek above the partially open door. A wooden platform, barely visible, was attached to the top of the doorframe, and some type of box teetered on the edge.

Alana put out a hand to touch the door, unable to see what Jaydn saw. He grabbed her arm to stop her.

“What do you see?” she asked fearfully.

Jaydn shook his head. As he leaned forward to get a better look, he bumped the door. The box tilted slightly, and the platform shifted. A sudden burst of adrenaline propelled him to action. He jerked Alana back into the living room with one giant sweep of his hands, and she let out a frightened squeal. The pair tripped over a torn couch cushion as Jaydn tried to protect Alana from what he was sure was coming.

Everything seemed to happen in slow motion. As they fell, Jaydn saw the bedroom door jerk open from the weight of the box, and the box fell from the platform. Jaydn turned his head away as an explosion rocked the whole apartment. He fell to the floor with Alana and struggled to shield her from the force of the blast and flying debris.

TWENTY-THREE

WHEN CHET HURRIED TO THE
garage where he kept his grandfather’s 1988 Toyota, the stars were beginning to peek out in the dark sky overhead. He thought he’d never use the old, beat-up Camry he received when his grandfather died the year before, but now he was thankful for a car his neighbor had never seen. If Pops happened to suspect he was being followed, he’d never guess it was Chet in the old car.

Chet climbed in the Camry, pulled it around to the side of the house hidden from his neighbor’s view, and waited. The beat-up car smelled of gasoline and brake fluid, but he didn’t care—as long as it ran.

Doubts about his plan crowded his mind when he remembered Brad’s words in the department debriefing that morning. “Don’t
ever
go into a dangerous situation without backup—no matter how good a cop you think you are.”

In the quiet solitude, those two sentences repeated over and over in his mind like a broken CD in a loop.

Is this a dangerous situation?

Maybe.

Maybe not.

Brad might be mad. But, if his neighbor’s behavior could be explained simply because he was idiosyncratic, there’d be no harm done. His buddies would have nothing to ridicule him about. However, if these periodic night runs were linked to some crime, especially the sheet murders, it would be worth the risk to find out.