Amber Morn (33 page)

Wilbur folded his arms. “You really think she’s gonna go ‘round
showing
it, woman?”

Bev’s mouth opened, then closed. She made a point of turning away as her powdered cheeks flushed.

Wilbur shot Jake a victorious look and wagged his head.

Bailey poured Bev’s drink and fitted it with a plastic lid. “Wilbur, all I can say is — it’s a good thing Trudy didn’t come after you with that frying pan. Things just wouldn’t be the same around here.”

He hunched over the counter. “Don’t think she ain’t tried a few times.”

“That’s whatcha get for wantin’ to be a hero.” Jake lifted his coffee cup. “You’d-a gone on a trip that weekend, your wife would be kissin’ on you all day.”

Wilbur’s mouth twitched. “Don’t think she ain’t done that too.”

Bailey looked across the café, checking to see who hadn’t been served. Carla, Scott, and Paige were laughing with Sarah, who was brightly dressed as usual — today in bold yellow. It was so good to see Paige smile again. Sarah’s left arm was out of the sling, but Bailey could tell it still gave her pain. All four of them held drinks.

Her gaze fell on Jared Moore. He was talking to Roger and John.

“Jared!”

He turned toward her. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Ready for your drink?” She smiled. “You’re the last one.”

“You bet.”

Bailey caught John’s eye and motioned with her head. He excused himself from the trio and walked over, coffee cup in hand.

Wilbur and Jake leaned in, always ready to eavesdrop. “You two.” She feigned a stern look in their direction.

As John reached the counter, she pulled the gift box from the shelf underneath. “I’ve got one more latte.” She handed John the present.

He winked at her.

Two minutes later John’s voice boomed through the café. “Okay, everybody, time to gather at the counter. I hear S-Man has some contracts to sign.”

“Yahoo!” Leslie crowed.

Ted looked around. “Let’s do it.” He was trying to keep his poker face, but Bailey could see the smile brush his lips. He picked his black computer case off a table and pulled out the contracts. Held them high.

“Come on over here and have a seat.” John plunked the present on the counter near the first stool. “You need to open this before you sign.”

“All
right
.” Ted started unwrapping the gift.

“Whatd’ya say, S-Man?” Jake grinned, knowing the answer.

He tossed the paper aside and opened the box. “I say
wuchak, rikoyoch
.”

Thanks, friends,
in Saurian.

He held up the pen. “Oh. Beautiful.” He smiled at John. “Thank you. It’s perfect.”

Bailey started clapping as S-Man put pen to the first contract page. Leslie set down her drink and joined in. Everyone else did the same. Soon they were whooping and hollering as they applauded.

This is where we were four weeks ago, Lord. And here we are again. By Your grace, dear Jesus. By Your grace.

“Remember, it’s going to take awhile.” S-Man had to shout over the din. “I’ve got to initial every page and sign at the end — all three copies.”

“Then we’ll clap a
long
time,” Paige cried. “Until you finish every one!”

And they did.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

My deep gratitude once again to Tony Lamanna for his help with all of the police work issues in this story. In law enforcement since 1969, Tony is the former chief of police of Spirit Lake, Idaho, and now diligently serves as school resource officer in his own town of Priest Lake. He is a nationally certified hostage negotiator. Tony patiently answered months of questions about the complexity of negotiations, command posts, and the way SWAT teams work. If you found an error or simplification in
Amber Morn
, it was entirely my doing. Sometimes the pace of a story demands that not every detail be presented.

Tony, I could not have written the Kanner Lake series without you.

Thanks once again also to Stuart Stockton, aspiring science fiction novelist who has allowed me to use his manuscript,
Star-fire
, for S-Man. Stuart has also written all of the S-Man posts for the Scenes and Beans blog, which chronicle the creation of his Saurian world and his writing of the novel. I look forward to the day when
Starfire
is published.

To Marilyn and Terry Cooper, owners of the real Simple Pleasures in Coeur d’Alene, Idaho, thank you again for allowing me to use your beautiful store in this series. Uh, sorry for the damage in this book. But I fixed it for you.

Brink of Death

Brandilyn Collins

The noises, faint, fleeting, whispered into her consciousness like wraiths in the night.

Twelve-year-old Erin Willit opened her eyes to darkness lit only by the dim green night-light near her closet door and the faint glow of a street lamp through her front window. She felt her forehead wrinkle, the fingers of one hand curl as she tried to discern what had awakened her.

Something was not right…

Annie Kingston moves to Grove Landing for safety and quiet — and comes face-to-face with evil.

When neighbor Lisa Willet is killed by an intruder in her home, sheriff’s detectives are left with little evidence. Lisa’s daughter, Erin, saw the killer, but she’s too traumatized to give a description. The detectives grow desperate.

Because of her background in art, Annie is asked to question Erin and draw a composite. But Annie knows little about forensic art or the sensitive interview process. A nonbeliever, she finds herself begging God for help. What if her lack of experience leads Erin astray? The detectives could end up searching for a face that doesn’t exist.

Leaving the real killer free to stalk the neighborhood…

Softcover: 0-310-25103-6

Pick up a copy today at your favorite bookstore!

Stain of Guilt

Brandilyn Collins

As I drew, the house felt eerie in its silence.… A strange sense stole over me, as though Bland and I were two actors on stage, our movements spotlighted, black emptiness between us. But that darkness grew smaller as the space between us shrank. I did not know if this sense was due to my immersion in Bland’s face and mind and world, or to my fear of his threatening presence.

Or both…

The nerves between my shoulder blades began to tingle.

Help me, God. Please.

For twenty years, a killer has eluded capture for a brutal double murder. Now, forensic artist Annie Kingston has agreed to draw the updated face of Bill Bland for the popular television show
American Fugitive.

To do so, Annie must immerse herself in Bland’s traits and personality. A single habitual expression could alter the way his face has aged. But as she descends into his criminal mind and world, someone is determined to stop her. At any cost. Annie’s one hope is to complete the drawing and pray it leads authorities to Bland — before Bland can get to her.

Softcover: 0-310-25104-4

Pick up a copy today at your favorite bookstore!

Dead of Night

Brandilyn Collins

All words fell away. I pushed myself off the path, noticing for the first time the signs of earlier passage—the matted earth, broken twigs. And I knew. My mouth turned cottony.

I licked my lips, took three halting steps. My maddening, visual brain churned out pictures of colorless faces on a cold slab—Debbie Lille, victim number one; Wanda Deminger, number three… He’d been here. Dragged this one right where I now stumbled. I’d entered a crime scene, and I could not bear to see what lay at the end.…

This is a story about evil.

This is a story about God’s power.

A string of murders terrorizes citizens in the Redding, California, area. The serial killer is cunning, stealthy. Masked by day, unmasked by night. Forensic artist Annie Kingston discovers the sixth body practically in her own backyard. Is the location a taunt aimed at her?

One by one, Annie must draw the unknown victims for identification. Dread mounts. Who will be taken next? Under a crushing oppression, Annie and other Christians are driven to pray for God’s intervention as they’ve never prayed before.