âAndrea? Itâs Josh Walker.â
Sheâd just been wishing to hear his voice, just been wishing for the comfort of his presence.
âJosh. How are you?â She shook the envelope and let the contents slide into her hand.
Whatever Joshâs answer was, it was drowned out by the sudden buzz in her ears. Staring up at her from the photo in her hand was her own face as she spoke to the homeless man who often dropped by the office. Red ink scrawled across the image. Stop what youâre doing. The image was taken through the scope of a rifle, crosshairs centered on her forehead.
In Joshâs mind flashed giant red lights. âWhatâs going on? Talk to me, Andrea.â
The silence stretched on too long. âSomeone sent me pictures.â Andreaâs voice held a measured control that did nothing to ease his mind. âOf me. At the counseling center. Two days ago.â
Josh would not let this happen. Heâd failed to act the last time. This time would be different. âIâm coming over. Call the police.â
Acknowledgments
Dad, I believe God is my daddy God who loves me, because you showed me what sacrificial, unconditional love from a father really looks like. Thank you.
Mom, you are my biggest, loudest cheerleader. Thank you!
Emily Rodmell, you are the queen of editors. I love getting edits back from you and seeing how much better everything is after youâve stepped alongside and poured into it. Thank you, thank you for taking these words and making them sing!
Kimberly Buckner, Donna Moore and Christina Nelson, you are prayer warriors, partners and friends of the deepest part of my heart. God definitely knew what He was doing when He threw a bunch of random strangers together. Lucky 13!
My âbeta readers,â Glenda Cook, Dawn Lucowitz, Jennifer McCarty and Kristin Dudish, thank you for the time and the attention to detail that made Crossfire what it is. Iâm in awe.â¦
Lesley Cooper, âmy Lesley,â who shouts across parking lots when I finish a book, who gives ear to my whining and loves me anyway. Laura Ott, this wouldnât have happened if you hadnât taken on my daughter as your own and if you hadnât let me just talk and talk. Laura Harris⦠you know what you did, Rock Star.
My church family, you are prayer warriors and awesome supporters, as are you, Freedom Christian family!
Paul and Cailin, you put up with deadlines, meltdowns, M&M binges and Mommy hunched over the computer for hours. I couldnât do this if you didnât cheer me on. Thank you, thank you, thank you.
Jesus. Oh, Jesus. You truly do make all things new.
ONE
Andrea Donovan stood at the glass-fronted entrance of her counseling center and watched the last patient of the day trek across the broiling parking lot to his car. The heat of the July Georgia sun blunted the edges of the world, giving the appearance that everything outside lay underwater. Her client eased onto Victory Drive, leaving her car alone in the parking lot save for a pickup truck idling near the gas station that neighbored her building.
Andrea looked out for a moment longer before she headed back to her office to shut down her computer and collect her files. She still had notes to make for her last patient, but all of her energy seemed to have drained into a pool at her feet. So many hurting people walked through her doors. It drained her, but in a way that made the end of the day seem more satisfying than brutal.