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“What? It shouldn’t be. I locked it before I left this morning.” Piper’s pulse sped up as she watched as Cade pushed with one finger and the door creaked inward.
“Go get in the car.”
“But–”
“Go. If I’m not out in ten minutes, call for backup.” The hard tone of his voice had her hurrying back to her car, watching as Cade disappeared inside her house.
Seconds ticked by. Then minutes. Should she call for help? Before she could decide, a figure rounded the corner of the house, and Piper’s heart lurched, then settled back into place as she recognized Cade.
“Did you see anyone?”
“Nothing. It doesn’t look like anything was touched, either. Want to come in and see?”
Cade was right. Everything looked just the way she’d left it. Nothing out of place, nothing missing.
“So what do you think?”
“It could be someone was here, but doesn’t want you to know it.”
“Why? That doesn’t make sense.”
“Things don’t always make sense, Piper.”
SHIRLEE MCCOY
has always loved making up stories. As a child, she daydreamed elaborate tales in which she was the heroine—gutsy, strong and invincible. Though she soon grew out of her superhero fantasies, her love for storytelling never diminished. She knew early that she wanted to write inspirational fiction, and began writing her first novel when she was a teenager. Still, it wasn’t until her third son was born that she truly began pursuing her dream of being published. Three years later she sold her first book. Now a busy mother of four, Shirlee is a homeschool mom by day and an inspirational author by night. She and her husband and children live in Maryland and share their house with a dog and a guinea pig. You can visit her Web site at www.shirleemccoy.com.
When Silence Falls
Shirlee McCoy
MILLS & BOON
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My soul waits in silence for God only; from Him is my salvation. He only is my rock and my salvation, my stronghold; I shall not be greatly shaken.
—Psalms 62:1–2
To Kitty, Melissa and Lynde McCoy.
Good friends are hard to come by.
I’m glad to count you among mine.
To every mother who has ever longed for a
few moments of precious silence—may you find
joy in the music of your children’s laughter and
pleasure in the symphony of their voices.
And to Caleb whose world is like mine—
filled with dragons, princesses, danger and
intrigue—and who is never afraid to be
the person God made him to be.
Dear Reader,
Life is noisy kids, spouses, friends, jobs, all vying for our attention. Add to that the roar of traffic, the lilting music from the radio, the dramatic overtones of the television, and the noise becomes almost deafening. With our modern lives so filled with demands, it’s easy to be swept along on the waves of sound, carried here and there in ever more frantic motion.
A few years ago, during one of the most hectic times in my life, I visited Smith Mountain Lake with my husband and kids. Early one morning, before the rest of my clan woke, I stepped outside. Water rippled against the shore and fish splashed in the lake, but other than that the world was silent. During those few moments of precious solitude I realized I’d been so busy, so caught up in the noisy demands of life, I’d forgotten how important it is to sit in silence and to listen.
Piper Sinclair is like that, so caught up in her busy life she’s forgotten that talking to God requires tuning in and waiting for the quiet stirring of the soul that says—“Yes, you’re on the right track” or “Come on, kid, get it together.” When Piper’s life is threatened and her busy world becomes chaotic and unpredictable, she must learn that taking the time to wait for God’s answer is as important as rushing to meet life’s demands.
Join Piper and photographer Cade Macalister as they work to stop a person bent on destruction, and when you’re finished, drop me a line. I can be reached by mail at 1121 Annapolis Road, PMB 244, Odenton, Maryland, 21113–1633. Or by e-mail at shirlee@shirleemccoy.com.
Blessings,
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
EPILOGUE
ONE
Piper Sinclair knew a bad thing when she saw it, and right now she was seeing it. A dozen ladies, all in various colors and styles of spandex, sat on bamboo mats staring with undisguised adoration at a woman whose banal smile set Piper’s teeth on edge. A whiteboard at the front of the room stated the purpose of the meeting—“Love Yourself to Weight Loss.” On either side of the whiteboard, long candle-laden tables sent up a steady stream of vanilla-scented air.
“Forget it. I’ve changed my mind.” Piper did a U-turn and tried to exit the room, but Gabriella Webber blocked her retreat, her sweet, wouldn’t-hurt-a-fly face set in mutinous lines.
“You can’t change your mind. You promised.”
“I wouldn’t have if you’d told me what this seminar was about.”
“I did tell you what it was about.”
“You said a weight-loss meeting. You didn’t say New Age mumbo jumbo.” The words were a quiet hiss, but from the look on Gabby’s face, Piper might as well have shouted.
“Shhhhh! Dr. Lillian will hear you.”
“I’m barely whispering.”
But the slim, smiling woman was hurrying across the room as if she had heard the exchange. “Welcome, ladies. I’m Dr. Sydney Lillian. Please, have a seat. We’ll be ready to begin in just a few minutes.”
Piper wanted to tell the doctor she wouldn’t be staying, but Gabby was staring at her with such hopeful pleading she didn’t have the heart to walk out.
“Thank you, Dr. Lillian. Come on, Gabby. Let’s find a seat.” Piper chose a mat close to the back of the room and sat down.
Gabby lowered herself onto a mat a few feet away, then leaned over and grabbed Piper’s arm, her dark eyes brimming with excitement. “I can’t believe we’re really doing this. If this class works as well as it’s supposed to, I’ll be slim and trim by Christmas. Just in time to find a New Year’s date.”
“Gabby…” But what could Piper say? That losing weight wouldn’t help Gabby find Mr. Right? That Mr. Right didn’t exist? That all Piper had ever found were a lot of Mr. Wrongs, all gussied up to look like what they weren’t? “You’ll have a New Year’s date whether you lose the weight or not. You always do.”
“I know. I just want this year to be different.”
Meaning Gabby wanted commitment, love, marriage. All the things women approaching thirty typically wanted. All the things Piper had decided she could do without. She smiled anyway, patting Gabby’s arm. “It will be.”
“I hope you’re right.” Gabby sighed and settled back onto her mat.
Piper’s bamboo mat was uncomfortable, and the strange affirmations the class was forced to say made her feel even more so. I love my belly. I love my hips. Since when did one need to affirm affection for each and every body part in order to lose weight? By the time the forty-minute session wound to an end, Piper was ready to ask for a refund on her money and her time.
“Are there any questions before we adjourn?” Dr. Lillian’s voice was like warm honey, but her eyes were cold.
Piper started to raise her hand and got an elbow to the ribs for her effort.
“Don’t you dare.” Gabby hissed the warning, her eyes shooting daggers.
Piper grinned, shrugged and let her hand drop.
Another woman—a plump blonde with a pretty face and striking blue eyes—raised her hand. “Dr. Lillian?”
“Yes, Piper?”
Despite her gut-level dislike of the woman, Piper felt a twinge of sympathy for Dr. Lillian as the blonde’s cheeks stained pink and a frown line appeared between her brows. “I’m not—”
She never had the chance to finish. One minute scented candles and soft music created an atmosphere of gentle serenity, the next, a dark blur raced into sight. A man. Medium height, wearing jeans, a faded T-shirt and a mask. Carrying a gun. A gun!
He grabbed the blonde who’d moments before been pink with embarrassment or anger. Now she was pale as paper, her eyes wide with fear.
Someone screamed. Others took up the chorus.
“Enough!” The gunman shouted the order, the silence that followed immediate and pulsing with terror.
“That’s better. Now everyone just stay put and you won’t get hurt.” He inched toward the door, his arm locked around the blonde’s neck, his pale yellow-green eyes staring out from behind the ski mask. Crocodile eyes. And like a crocodile, he had no intention of letting his prey escape alive.
The thoughts flashed through Piper’s mind, demanding action. She took a step toward the man. “Let her go.”
A mouse could have made more noise.
She tried again. “Let her go. Before you make more trouble for yourself.”
His reptilian gaze raked over Piper and dismissed her as no threat. Still, the gun he held never wavered. He kept it pointed toward the group as he took one step after another, slowly, inexorably pulling his victim to the door. Ten steps and he’d be there. Nine.
The long sleeve of his T-shirt hiked up around his forearm, revealing a snake tattoo that coiled around his wrist and up toward his elbow. The deep greens and reds of the serpent seemed to undulate, the gold eyes almost exactly matching the eyes of the gunman. Hard. Evil.
The other women must have sensed the same. Each was frozen in place, eyes fixed on the gun as if staring hard enough would keep it from firing.
Eight steps. Seven. Soon he’d pull the woman out the door and into the parking lot. He’d disappear, the woman with him.
Six.
The smart thing to do would be to wait until the man walked outside and then call for help. It’s what Piper’s brother Jude would expect her to do. A New York City cop, he knew the best way to respond in a crisis, and he’d drilled her on everything from natural disasters to hostage situations.
Five. Four.
The blonde’s eyes were wide with terror, begging someone, anyone, to stop what was happening. Piper couldn’t ignore the plea. She stepped forward again, praying for wisdom and for help. “Hey, you’re holding her too tight. She can’t breathe. She’s turning blue!”
The hysteria in her voice was real, and the blonde did her part, moaning, dropping her weight against the arm that held her. The gunman glanced down and that was the chance Piper needed. She leaped forward, raising her leg in a roundhouse kick she’d been practicing for months. Hard. Fast. To the wrist. Just the way her other brother, Tristan, had taught her. The gun flew from the man’s hand, landing with a soft thud on the floor a few feet away. Piper dove for it, her fingers brushing against metal just as a hand hooked onto her arm and threw her sideways.
She slammed into a table, her head crashing against the wall, candles spilling onto the table and floor. Stars shot upward in hot, greedy fingers of light.
“Fire!” Gabby’s scream cut through Piper’s daze and she blinked, focusing on the gauzy curtains now being consumed by flames.
All around her the room echoed with noise—women calling to one another, feet pounding on the floor, an alarm screaming to life. Dr. Lillian stood amidst the chaos, calmly speaking on a cell phone.
“Piper! Come on, we’ve got to get out of here.” Gabby grabbed her arm and pulled her toward the door.
“Where’s the guy with the gun? The woman?”
“Gone. He let go of her when you kicked the gun out of his hand. I think you might have broken his wrist.”
The thought made Piper light-headed. Or maybe it was the knock on the head she’d gotten. Whatever the case, she felt dizzy and sick. “I wasn’t trying to. I just wanted him to drop the gun.”
“Well, he did. But he picked it up again before he ran. Now stop talking and move faster.”
Outside, daylight had faded to blue-purple dusk, the hazy mid-July heat humid and cloying. People hugged the curb of the parking lot, staring at the smoke billowing from the three-level brownstone that housed Dr. Lillian’s practice. In the distance, sirens wailed and screamed, growing closer with each breath. Soon Lynchburg’s finest would arrive. If God was good, and Piper knew He was, Grayson wouldn’t be with them. The last thing she needed, or wanted, was her oldest brother’s raised eyebrow and overburdened sigh.
What she needed, what she wanted, was to walk away. To leave the burning building and the crying, gasping blonde and shell-shocked, spandex-clad women behind, go home and forget any of this had ever happened. But just as Jude had taught her to be cautious and Tristan had taught her to fight, Grayson had taught her responsibility. She was here for the duration. No matter how fervently she wished otherwise.
She sighed, moved into the crowd of people and waited for help to arrive.
Cade Macalister heard the sirens as he pulled out of Lynchburg Medical Center. He ignored them. Or tried.
“Well?” Sandy Morris didn’t need to say more. Cade knew exactly what she was thinking.
“No.”
“The sirens are close. It won’t take long to get the scoop and shoot a few pictures.” A reporter for the Lynchburg Gazette, Sandy was the wife of Cade’s best friend. She was also seven months pregnant.
“No.”
“Come on, Cade. What can it hurt?”
“It can hurt a lot if your husband finds out.”
“Jim won’t mind.”
Cade snorted and pulled over as an ambulance sped by.
“They’re heading toward the historic district. Something big’s going on. See those police cruisers? You know some of the guys on the force. They’d probably—”
“You need to be home in bed, resting. Jim will never forgive me if you go into preterm labor while he’s away.”
“I’m fine. The doctor just said so.”
“Three hours ago you thought you were in labor.”
“And I was wrong. This is my first, you know. Come on, Cade. You’ve got your camera, right? We’ll get the scoop. Then you can bring me home.”
“Sorry, but I’m on duty tonight. I was supposed to be in Lakeview an hour ago.”
“Why didn’t you say something? I could have found someone else to hang out at the hospital with me.”
“I didn’t want you to have to find someone else. Besides, another officer is filling in for me until I get there.”
“I wish you’d told me. Oh, wait, I get it. Jim talked you into babysitting me while he was out of town, didn’t he?” Her voice was sharp, a frown line between her brows.
“Jim didn’t have to talk me into anything. We’re friends, Sandy. What was I supposed to do? Tell you I had to work and leave you at the hospital alone?”
She shook her head, brown curls sliding against her cheeks. “Ignore me. I’ve been a bear lately. Go ahead and drop me off at home. I’ll miss the story of the century, but I can get the information tomorrow. Better late than never.”
Cade rolled his eyes. He knew the score. He’d been friends with Jim for most of his life and with Sandy for the eight years since she’d met and married his friend. The pout, the pretense of agreeing with Cade’s plan, they were both part of an act designed to get what she wanted. They worked every time. “You’re a pest, you know that?”
“Jim’s been telling me that for years.”
“Well, he’s been right.” But Cade turned left at the next light, following a police cruiser and the high-pitched whine of sirens.
“Look! Something’s burning!” Sandy’s excited cry filled the car, her finger barely missing Cade’s nose as she pointed toward thick black smoke that hung above the buildings a few blocks away. A fire truck screamed a warning and raced by Cade’s SUV. Before he could pull in behind it, an ambulance roared past. Sandy was right. Whatever was happening was big. Cade’s fingers itched to grab his camera, to shoot pictures of the emergency vehicles, the people standing in frozen silence in parking lots and on sidewalks. Fear. Excitement. Cade could read it all in their faces, and he knew he could capture it on film.
Adrenaline pounded through him, urging him to step on the gas and head into the fray. During his years as a crime-scene photographer for the military police, he would have done just that. Time and experience had tempered him. He glanced at Sandy, saw his own urge to move reflected in her face. Too bad. There was no way he was taking her with him.
He pulled into a convenience store parking lot, turned to his passenger. “If you step foot out of this car, I’ll burn any pictures I get at the scene. Stay put and the Gazette gets first dibs on them.”
“Wait a minute—”
“Take it or leave it.”
“Take it.” Sandy huffed back into her seat, a scowl pulling down the corners of her mouth.
Cade ignored the show, parked the car, grabbed his Nikon off the back seat and pushed open the door. The acrid scent of smoke burned his throat and nose as he made his way along the sidewalk. Up ahead, police cars blocked the road and two officers directed the rerouted traffic. Cade recognized one of them and strode toward him. “Matt! What’s up?”
Matt Jenkins turned and glanced at Cade’s camera. “You shooting pictures for one of the newspapers?”
“Lynchburg Gazette.”
“Thought maybe you were here as a cop.”
“I haven’t been a cop in a while.”
“That’s not what I hear.”
“What do you hear?” Cade lifted his camera, took a shot of the cruisers blocking the road.
“I hear you’re back in uniform. Working in Lakeview.”
“Part-time. Just for the summer.”
“Part-time. Full-time. Doesn’t matter. A cop’s a cop.”
“Maybe so. You know what’s going on?”
“Attempted kidnapping. Fire started during the woman’s escape.”
“Did you get the perp?”
“Not yet. We’ve got witnesses, though, so who knows? You can go on through. Must be five news trucks there already.”
“Thanks.” Cade worked his way toward the scene, scanning the crowds that lined the street, shooting pictures as he went. Just a few would have captured the essence of the moment—the fear and excitement of the crowd, the smoke pouring from the building, ambulances and fire trucks with lights still flashing, news crews pressing toward the scene. Cade was more interested in capturing something else.
“You think he’s here?” The voice was familiar, and Cade turned to face Jake Reed, sheriff of Lakeview and Cade’s boss as of a week ago.
“Statistically, the chances are good.”
“True, but I’m not asking about statistics, I’m asking what you think. Is the perp hanging out in the crowd, or has he already flown?”
“He’s here.” Cade lifted the camera again, his attention on the people milling about.
“I’m thinking the same. Keep shooting while we walk.”
Cade did as he was asked, snapping a shot of Jake and the crowd behind him. “You’re a long way from home, sheriff. Did Lynchburg PD call you in?”
“A friend’s sister was on the evening news and he asked me to come check on her. What about you? I thought you were at the hospital.”
“A false alarm. It only took three hours to figure it out.”
“Glad to hear it wasn’t anything serious.”
“Me, too. And since it wasn’t, I’d be happy to report in tonight.” Desperate to report in was more apt, but Cade doubted Jake needed to know that.
“We could use another officer.” Jake gestured to a group of women standing near an ambulance. “Can you get a couple of pictures of those ladies?”
“Sure.”
“And the crowd behind them.”
Cade lifted the camera and took several pictures as he moved closer, the lens bringing the group into stark focus. A few women huddled together, soot and tears streaking their faces. Others stared hollow-eyed at the burning building. Shock. He’d seen it too many times not to know what it was. Only one of the women looked animated—a short blonde whose hands danced as she spoke to a uniformed police officer.
She glanced Cade’s way as he and Jake approached, her gray eyes wide and thickly lashed, the band of black around her irises giving her an otherworldly look. Cade knew those eyes. Memories flashed through his mind—Seth Sinclair and his three brothers, two of them with the same wide, gray eyes. Their sister—small, always talking, always moving. Always in trouble. Piper. An odd name for an odd kid. Only she wasn’t a kid anymore.
Dressed in faded sweatpants and a bright pink T-shirt, her blond hair pulled back in a ponytail, she looked calm, despite the chaos around her. The police officer said something to her and she nodded, lifting thick, straight bangs away from her forehead and revealing a deep blue bruise. Then she gestured to the livid welts along her arm.
Piper Sinclair might not be a kid anymore, but apparently she hadn’t outgrown her penchant for finding trouble. Cade could only hope the Lynchburg police would have an easier time of protecting her than her brothers had had while she was growing up.
TWO
Piper was in the middle of explaining for the fifth time the roundhouse kick she’d used to disarm the kidnapper, when Jake Reed stepped up beside her. Sheriff of the small town where she lived, and a friend of Piper’s brother Grayson, he was here for one reason and one reason only—to check up on her. Obviously, Grayson had put him up to it.
She might have been annoyed if she hadn’t been so glad to see a familiar face.
“Everything okay here, Piper?” Jake’s voice was smooth and firm.
“Fine. I was just telling Lieutenant Bradley that it really is possible for a woman my size to disarm a man.”
“He’s having trouble believing you?” Jake speared Bradley with a look meant to intimidate. It might not have worked on Bradley, but Piper was tempted to take a step away.
Bradley just snapped the gum he was chewing and shrugged. “I’m just trying to get an accurate picture of how Miss Sinclair managed it.”
“I think I’ve already explained. I used a roundhouse kick. If you don’t know what that is, I can demonstrate.”
“Not necessary.”
“Then I’m free to go?”
“Let me check with Chief Russell. He might want to ask a few more questions before you leave.”
“But—”
Jake put a hand on Piper’s shoulder and gave it a light squeeze. “I’ll go with him. See if I can speed things along a little.”
“I appreciate it.” And she did. Her head ached, her throat was parched and all she wanted was to catch a ride back to the college with Gabby, get in her car and go home.
“No problem. You might want to call Grayson while you wait. He’s been trying to reach you and he’s worried.”