âI didnât expect to see you so soon.â
âShouldnât you be back at the theatre, trying to put out the fire? Or trying to figure out what happened?â
Rand shrugged. âThe blaze is under control. We have to wait for things to cool down before we can start poking around for answers.â
Cate gave him a long, measuring look. âYou might want to bring the sheriff up to speed tonight rather than tomorrow. Heâs going to need your help.â
Rand leaned forward, his jaw tight, hands itching with a surge of adrenaline. âWhat kind of help?â
âProfessional.â She sat up, shoved a hand through the thick mane of hot cocoa-brown waves. âDad says it wasnât just a fire. It was a meth lab explosion.â
GINNY AIKEN
is a former newspaper reporter, and lives in Pennsylvania with her engineer husband and their three younger sonsâthe oldest married and flew the coop. Born in Havana, Cuba, raised in Valencia and Caracas, Venezuela, she discovered books early, and wrote her first novel at age fifteen while she trained with the Ballets de Caracas, later known as the Venezuelan National Ballet. She burned that tome when she turned a âmatureâ sixteen. Stints as reporter, paralegal, choreographer, language teacher and retail salesperson followed. Her life as wife, mother of four boys and herder of their numerous and assorted friends, brought her back to books and writing in search of her sanity. Sheâs now the author of more than twenty published works and a frequent speaker at Christian womenâs and writersâ workshops, but has yet to catch up with that elusive sanity.
In you our fathers put their trust; They trusted and you delivered them.
Psalm 22:4 NIV
âNOOOO!â
Catelyn Caldwellâs cry ripped from her throat as she slammed her car door. In horror, she watched flames leap from the old Loganton Theater to the sky. The stench of devastation seared her nostrils. Fire tinted the adjacent buildings in shades of angry red as it writhed and hissed, consuming one of the townâs favorite structures.
The marquee thundered down onto the sidewalk. Its crash ricocheted off Main Streetâs buildings, many of which were the same vintage as the blazing structure. Firefighters doused the nearest ones to try and keep them from meeting the same fate as the theater.
Tears burned Cateâs eyes, more painful than the waves of heat slapping her face. Fear shot bile up her middle. What ifâ¦?
âStop it!â No need to think the worst.
Neal Hunter, one of the oldest and most reliable firefighters under her dad, had called her not ten minutes earlier. âThe theaterâs on fire and your dad went in after Wilma Tucker.â Frustration had made his voice tight. âShe wouldnât leave. Said sheâd do more good wetting everything down from the inside. Wouldnât listen to reason. Then, when things got bad, I couldnât talk Joe out of going in after her. You might want to head on over here.â
As if anything could have kept her away.
Joe Caldwell, Logantonâs fire chief, had been putting his life on the line every day since heâd joined the fire department in Roanoke decades earlier. He lived to serve, even if his service kept those who loved him fearing the day when the worst come to pass.
It looked as though today might be that day.
She told herself Dad and Wilma would probably make it out of the raging inferno while she drove there.
Now if she could only make herself believe it.
Tears spilled down Cateâs cheeks. She stepped forward, her hands clenched at her sides, her knees buckling. Everything inside her commanded her to run inside, to tear the place apart until she found her father and saw him safe. She didnât want to face the possibility ofâ
No. She wasnât going there.
Squaring her shoulders, she took a step forward. While sheâd been called all kinds of things at different times in her life, sheâd never been called a coward.
With every step, her terror at the thought of disaster grew. I canât, I canât, I canât.
Sheâd faced tragedy in the worst way the night her older sister Mandy and her brother-in-law Ross were killed in a car accident eight years ago. Sheâd had a front-row seat for that nightmare. Cate had been a passenger in the car theyâd swerved to avoid.
Surviving that nightmare had taken more than she could stand to surrender again. And yet, because of the nature of her fatherâs work, she might just be forced to give in one more time. And soon.
Her immature faith in Christ had seen her through the aftermath of her sisterâs death. Her more mature relationship with the Lord these days would see her through again should the worst come to pass.
I can do all things through Christ who strengthens meâ¦
The nearer she got to the burning theater, the more unbearable the heat grew. Cate licked her dry lips and tasted the salt of her tears.