Not This Time (30 page)

The steeple snagged Joe’s attention.

He turned off Highway 20 and steered his motorcycle toward it. The church was a little white clapboard, parked out in the middle of nowhere. Nilge Reservation bordered it on two sides, and the highway on the third. Yet it didn’t look lonely; it looked like home.

When your parents aren’t parents, and you’re targeting large families for food, churches offered your best odds. Sit in on the service, behave yourself, buddy up to a kid your age, and follow him home. They’d feed you, and you could stuff enough in paper napkins to feed your younger brothers.

If not for large families and little churches, Joe and his brothers would have starved. That he’d found faith sitting through those sermons to get food surprised him more than anyone else.
God works in mysterious ways
.

He parked the Harley right out front. There were a half-dozen cars in the lot and a black Lexus turned in behind him. Leaving his helmet on the seat, he walked through the front door and into the cool air.

A petite woman in her forties with metal braces on her teeth stepped out of an office and greeted him. “Hi,” she said with a smile. “Can I help you?”

Her southern twang was endearing. Definitely a lifetime local. Enchanted, Joe smiled. “Hi. I’m traveling and saw your church.” He hadn’t noticed the denomination. Didn’t matter to him, but it might to them. “Do you mind if I go in and pray?” He motioned toward the sanctuary doors.

“Of course not.” She motioned. “You go right on in and stay as long as you like.”

“Thank you.” He did love southern hospitality. He opened the door. “I appreciate it.”

“Sure thing, Mr.…?”

“Joe, please.”

“Joe.” She smiled again.

The door swished closed behind him. The altar was simple. Behind it on the wall hung a hand-hewn wooden cross. Red-cushioned pews, two stained-glass windows, a well-worn pulpit.

Anxiety and worry had every muscle in his body in knots. Worry about Beth—her safety and whether or not she’d ever really let him into her life—worry about Sara, about Mark and Lisa, about all the villagers and people at Crossroads. Mark loved them, which meant Joe loved them. One of the villagers was NINA.

All the guys on the team had a life bond to be there for each other. It was as tight as family bonds—and in Joe’s case, a lot more pleasant. The only time he heard from his parents or either of his brothers was when they were in trouble. He could sum up their conversations quickly:
How much do you need? Which one of you is in jail?
Those two questions handled ninety-nine percent of their calls. It’d been years since any of them had even asked how Joe was doing. But the Shadow Watchers always had his back. Mark, Nick, Tim, Sam—no matter when or where, if Joe needed them, they were there. And all those they loved came in under that same umbrella.

Because they did, and because Joe had gotten close to a lot of the villagers on his own, and he’d had time to see how Beth loved others—man, he wanted that from her for himself—he wasn’t just worried, he was scared to death. Would they be able to protect all these people from NINA? Again?

NINA had money, resources, and manpower they didn’t have. Add no ethics, no morals, and no boundaries—it would do anything to win—and it’d take a crazy man not to be scared.

Thankfully, Joe had a secret weapon they didn’t have. The source of all wisdom, strength, ability, and skill—and promises he relied on every day in every situation, not just in ones classified and too often tagged potential suicide missions. Joe had found this secret weapon long ago in a little building much like this. It had sustained him though a childhood that wasn’t fit for kids, and even the times when he was stuck in one of life’s dark tunnels, seeking and seeking and not spotting so much as a speck of light.
Prayer
.

Near the front pew, he dropped down on the red-padded kneeler, folded his hands, and lowered his head, eager to lose himself in prayer.

Later, awareness tugged at him. He shoved it away but it persisted. He paused, listened. A scuffle outside the big doors, a muffled voice.
The woman who’d greeted him
.

He rushed to the doors, shoved, and pushed through.

She lay motionless on the floor.

Joe scanned, saw no one, then rushed over to her.
Breathing
. He gently
turned her head to see her face. Her mouth was bleeding. Someone had punched her in the mouth. Her braces had sliced her flesh. Anger exploded inside him.

Something in his periphery flashed. He ducked, turned, and saw a masked man with a gun aiming for his head. His training kicked in; he swiped with his leg and knocked the man off his feet. The gun flew from his hand, and Joe attacked.

They fought hard. The man was no novice. He was a pro, as trained as Joe. “NINA.”

“Phoenix,” the man spat. “Know the man who kills you.”

“In a church?” Joe crowded him, let fly a series of rabbit punches.

“Wood and nails are for fools. I believe in me.”

Phoenix parried, landed a right jab to Joe’s ribs that stole his breath. He doubled back with a hard left hook that lifted the guy off his feet and shot pain up Joe’s arm to his shoulder.

A gunshot fired.

Joe went down and they fought no more …

15

S
ara, it’s time.”

From the swing facing the cove, she looked up at Beth. “I don’t want to go.”

Beth didn’t either. “It’s one of those have-to-do things.”

Sara rocked the swing harder. “It’ll be easier for you.”

“Nothing that hurts you is easy for me.”

“I didn’t say easy. I said easier.”

“Well, of course.” Beth shrugged. “He was your husband. But you’ll get through it.”

Sara choked on a low, mewling sound. “I don’t want to get through it. I—I can’t stand all that could come now—and I don’t want you to have to stand it either.”

Fear crept through Beth. The warning. The hospital visits. Sara holding back on what she knew about Robert’s abduction and murder. “Grief is hard.”

“This time is different.” Sara stared at a flag on the back end of the docked boat. Wind-teased, it unfurled. “Things could happen.” She looked back at Beth. “And hurt in new ways.”

“I expect it will hurt in new ways. You haven’t lost a husband before.” Was she telling Beth the truth or just seeing grief differently? “But the very thing that makes you dread this is your weapon to get through it, Sara. You know something grief rookies don’t. Survival
is
possible. That’s half the battle, don’t you think?”

“Maybe.” Sara thought a second, sniffed, then dried her eyes. “When my parents died, I wasn’t sure a body could hold that much pain and live. But I did.”

So this was about grief and not revealing secrets. Beth bit back her disappointment. The delay was best for Sara. She had plenty on her shoulders today. “And you will again.”

“Knowing you’ll live through it should help. But when you’re so deep in the grief abyss, it doesn’t. All you can think is, what’s the difference?”

Beth remembered those terrifying days. The hopelessness, the seeing no value or sense in living or in life. The bleak emptiness—oh, that awful, awful bleak emptiness—so strong and powerful and consuming it gnawed at the marrow of your bones and made everything seem insignificant. It had sorely tested Beth’s soul.

When you’re in the abyss and nothing matters, there aren’t any tools to help you crawl out. It’s scratch and claw every inch of the way—until you turn to God. Beth had, and finally so had Sara. It was hard enough to get out of that dark place with Him, but without Him?
“I don’t pray anymore.”
How would Sara make it?

“You know the difference. There’s a lot of good life on the other side of grief.”

Fear burned in Sara’s eyes. “What if it’s not just grief? What if other things are there too and it’s too much? What if I can’t do it again? What if I used all my strength the first time and I’m too weak to crawl out, Beth?”

“Then God will carry you out. He promised you’d never be given more than you could handle.”

Sara rolled her eyes. She didn’t want truth; she wanted Beth’s assurance.

“Okay, look. I don’t believe you can get in that deep. If you could, no one would ever say ‘what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.’ But if it is possible, then I’ll stand in for you until you can take it on yourself. We’ll get you through this.”

Sara put her sunglasses back on, masking her eyes. “Even if it hurts you?”

Beth wished she’d left the glasses off. “Even then.”

“Because you’re my family.” Sara’s chin trembled.

Beth put a lilt in her voice. “You know the code.”

“Whatever, whenever.” Sara let out a shaky breath. “Thank God for the southern woman’s take on family.” She hugged Beth hard. “I love you. You know that, right?”

“Of course.”

“I’m sorry we’ve been at odds.”

“We’re fine.” Beth pulled back and looked into Sara’s face. “We’ll do what we have to do, Sara.” She squeezed their clasped hands. “You’ll be okay.”

“I’d be lost without you.” Sara stood, looped their arms, and took the first step toward the house.

“Me too,” Beth confessed, certain now there had been times that even with her and the family Sara had felt lost.

Why was Sara shutting out her faith when she most needed it? What could be so bad it made her feel that unworthy? No one was worthy. Grace paved the way, and Sara knew it. So knowing she wasn’t strong enough to walk alone, why turn her back? It defied reason.

At the back door, Sara sniffled. The tip of her nose was red. “Do you have my inhaler?”

“Yeah.” Beth passed it over.

Sara tucked it in her handbag. “Don’t worry. I asked for it because you’ll be more at ease if I take it. I’m not going to need it.”

“Promise?”

“Promise. I’m through worrying you.” Sara tucked the crumpled tissue into her purse, then snapped it closed. “It’s a new day. I’m going to deal with it without any more attacks.”

What had gotten into her? Whatever it was, Beth hoped it took root. “Glad to hear it. I know I’m too protective and it gets on your nerves at times—”

“You promised my parents you’d look after me. That makes you mother and sister and friend.” Sara tapped Beth’s arm. “All that caring gives you lots of leeway with me.”

Beth never had told Sara about that promise. “How did you know—?”

“I know my mother and I know you. It was a given.” Sara’s smile was faint.
“Listen, I know I’m fragile, especially compared to you, and my health issues scare you silly. I also know you’d like to slap me now and then and tell me to grow a backbone—and you would, but southern women just don’t do that.” Sara’s eyes twinkled. “You’re the consummate nurturer, Beth, and even when you disagree with me, you’re supportive. Don’t think I don’t know how hard that is for you at times.”

Beth stared at her, slack jawed. “Where’s Sara? What’s going on? This isn’t you.”

“Oh, but it is me. I’m just not hiding anymore. As close as we are, there are things about me you don’t know. Things at work in all this—but I won’t tell you what because I don’t want you to know. Not because you’ll judge me. I just want them kept private—and I don’t want to talk about why either.” Sara’s face flushed. “If I act weird, keep your distance and trust me, okay?”

Given little choice, Beth nodded. “At least tell me what the hospital visits were for. Are you really sick?”

“I’m not sick.” Resolve slid over her face, masking her expression. “What happened to me will never happen again and that’s all I have to say. Please, don’t ask about that again. It’s over, and I don’t want to think about it anymore.” Sara blinked hard. “Now, let’s get this funeral over with.”

At the kitchen door, Sara grabbed the knob, then paused. “One more thing.” She looked Beth straight in the eye. “When the funeral is over, I want you to go home and stay away from me for a while.”

“What?” Inside, Beth reeled.

“I want time to myself to heal. I have to stand on my own. If you’re around, I won’t. I should have done this a long time ago.”

“But, Sara, the next couple months will be hard—”

“Yes, and if you’re around they’ll be harder. You’ll want to fix everything, and I’ll let you. That might be what I want but it’s not what I need.”

“Did you talk to Nora about this?”

“I talked to me about it.”

“Okay.” Beth felt deflated. Betrayed and deflated, though she shouldn’t
feel either. She couldn’t wrap her mind around this. Medical secrets, cryptic warnings, admissions of being in trouble Beth couldn’t help with, shunning God, and now banning her. Just how much jeopardy was Sara in? With whom? And for what? This was about more than any Quantico and NINA connection. This was intensely personal … somehow.

Peggy met them inside the back door. One look at her pale face and Beth braced for bad news. “What’s happened now?”

“Kyle called from headquarters,” Peggy said. “Jeff wants us to stay here until he calls back.”

Beth lifted a hand. Sara was ready so naturally the world was not.
God, could we please catch a break here?
“But everyone will be at the cemetery.”