In the Enemy's Sights

“Well, I-I don’t know.” How odd it was, that she hadn’t even thought of that. She’d been too focused on Ken’s safety.

“Neither do I. But I’m going to find out. That lumber didn’t accidentally fall just when I was walking by.”

Julianna rubbed her forehead. “You’re right. Those stacks are perfectly secure. One couldn’t collapse unless–”

“Unless somebody made it happen,” Ken finished for her, his voice grim.

FAITH AT THE CROSSROADS: Can faith and love sustain two families against a diabolical enemy?

A TIME TO PROTECT–Lois Richer (LIS#13)

THE DANGER WITHIN–Valerie Hansen (LIS#15)

THROUGH THE FIRE-Sharon Mignerey (LIS#17)

IN THE ENEMY’S SIGHTS-Marta Perry (LIS#19)

STRICTLY CONFIDENTIAL-Terri Reed (LIS#21)

HEARTS ON THE LINE-Margaret Daley (LIS#23)

MARTA PERRY

has written everything from Sunday school curriculum to travel articles to magazine stories in twenty years of writing, but she feels she’s found her home in the stories she writes for Love Inspired.

Marta lives in rural Pennsylvania, but she and her husband spend part of each year at their second home in South Carolina. When she’s not writing, she’s probably visiting her children and her beautiful grandchildren, traveling or relaxing with a good book.

Marta loves hearing from readers and she’ll write back with a signed bookplate or bookmark. Write to her c/o Steeple Hill Books, 233 Broadway, Suite 1001, New York, NY 10279, e-mail her at marta@martaperry.com, or visit her on the Web at www.martaperry.com.

In the Enemy’s Sights

Marta Perry

Special thanks and acknowledgment are given to Marta Perry for her contribution to the FAITH AT THE CROSSROADS series.

This story is dedicated to my dear Love Inspired

sisters, with thanks for your love and support.

And, as always, to Brian.

The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom should I fear? The Lord is the refuge of my life; of whom then should I be afraid?

—Psalms 27:1

CAST OF CHARACTERS

Kenneth Vance—He was shot down while on a mission, but would recovery in Colorado Springs prove even more dangerous for this Air Force pilot?

Julianna Red Feather—This expert in canine search-and-rescue was feeling burnt-out emotionally and spiritually, but her job wasn’t over yet….

Jay Nieto—The Native American teen Julianna had taken under her wing was a good assistant during the canine training, but was he also responsible for the vandalism at Montgomery Construction?

Maxwell Vance—Now that the mayor has taken a turn for the better, will the powers that want him dead finally succeed?

Dear Reader,

I’m so glad you decided to pick up this book, the fourth in the FAITH AT THE CROSSROADS series. It’s been such a great experience to write this series with five such talented and dedicated authors.

As you know if you’ve read my earlier book, Hero in Her Heart, I have a great affection and respect for service dogs and their handlers. The research I did into the lives of FEMA urban search-and-rescue teams just increased my awe at what they can accomplish.

The love story of Ken and Julianna, two wounded, hurting people, put a lump in my throat as I wrote. I hope it does the same for you as you read.

I hope you’ll write and let me know how you liked this story. Address your letters to me at Steeple Hill Books, 233 Broadway, Suite 1001, New York, NY 10279, and I’ll be happy to send you a signed bookplate or bookmark. You can visit me on the Web at www.martaperry.com or e-mail me at marta@martaperry.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

EPILOGUE

QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION

ONE

If he stayed inside for another minute, he’d probably explode. Grateful for the phone call that had distracted his friend, Kenneth Vance stepped from the office into the yard of Montgomery Construction Company. Behind the long, low office building loomed the old red barn that had been the original site of the company. Now, eight-foot-high chain-link fencing surrounded a whole complex of buildings.

Beyond the fence, Ken could see a steady flow of traffic on the industrial park road. Colorado Springs seemed to have grown in the years since this place, in the shadow of Pikes Peak, had been home to him.

When he moved beyond the shade of the overhang, the Colorado sunshine, fierce even in April at this altitude, hit him like a blow. He groped for the dark glasses he’d been forced to wear since the incident.

Incident. That was the term the Air Force used. The official verdict had been that his jet was brought down over South America by insurgents armed with a shoulder-fired missile. Somehow incident didn’t seem a strong enough word for something that ruined a man’s life.

He pushed the thoughts away forcefully and wandered farther into the yard. Quinn Montgomery, his longtime friend and owner of Montgomery Construction, had made progress in repairing the destruction done by an arson fire at the yard last month, but a jumble of broken concrete and charred timbers still marred the scene.

Ken stiffened, trying to will away the incessant blurring of his vision that was an annoying leftover from his injuries. Someone was moving around in the debris. No one should be there.

He strode quickly toward the spot. With all the misfortunes that had dogged the Montgomery and Vance families lately, he wasn’t taking anything for granted.

“Hey! What are you doing here?” It was the command tone that was ingrained after eight years as an Air Force officer.

Maybe not much longer, a small voice in the back of his mind reminded him.

A slight figure emerged from a fractured piece of concrete pipe. A teenage boy, he thought for an instant, maybe from one of the street gangs Quinn said had begun to appear on the usually placid streets of Colorado Springs in recent months.

Then the figure straightened, and he realized it was no boy. Slim, small, but certainly no boy. The woman had glossy, straight black hair in thick braids. High cheekbones increased the faintly exotic quality of her looks, and dark eyes met his with a startled wariness.

“What did you say?” Her voice was soft, a little husky. Something about it rang a bell, but he couldn’t place her.

“I asked what you’re doing here.”

He took a step toward her and then froze. A dog came out of the pipe behind her—a big German shepherd that lowered its head and growled at him, pressing close to the woman’s side.

“Easy, Angel.” Her hand caressed the animal’s head. “He’s a friend.”

Something about the way she said the word increased that sense of recognition. He frowned, annoyed that he couldn’t remember. “Do we know each other?”

Her glance touched his face and flickered away. “We did. A long time ago. You’re Ken Vance.” She smiled faintly. “Everyone in The Springs has heard you’re back.”

True enough, he supposed. When you belonged to the Vance family and your uncle was the mayor, everyone knew too much about you. They probably even knew why he was here, out of uniform, instead of doing what he was born to do.

“You must have changed more than I have.” He tried to manage a smile. “I know I know you, but—” Recognition came then. “You’re Julianna Red Feather, aren’t you?”

“Yes.” She met his gaze squarely, without a hint of embarrassment.

“It’s been a long time.” He probably felt embarrassed enough for both of them, even though he hadn’t thought of that awkward incident in years. Still, meeting her again was easier since she’d obviously gotten over that foolish crush she’d once had on him. “You’ve changed.”

She shrugged, a smile lightening her grave expression. “I’ve grown up. We all have. And, by the way, I do have permission from Quinn to be here.”

“Right.” Of course she did. He’d been needlessly officious.

Julianna had changed. He remembered a girl so shy she’d nearly vanished into the woodwork in high school—one he’d thought had been ashamed of her Native American ancestry. Now she confronted him with confidence, head held high. Her thick braids with their woven ties and the turquoise emblem she wore at her throat seemed to announce pride in her heritage.

“So, you two remember each other, do you?”

He hadn’t heard Quinn approach, but there he was, grinning at them. Quinn bent to ruffle Angel’s ears, obviously friends with the dog.

“We’ve figured it out,” he said easily, wondering what the relationship was between Quinn and Julianna. He’d been away for years, except for flying visits when he was on leave. Anything could have happened, and he wouldn’t necessarily have heard unless his mother had thought to mention it in one of their frequent phone conversations.

“Julianna’s the newest member of Montgomery Construction Company,” Quinn said, answering the question in his mind. “She’s running the office for us now.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “You expect your office manager to clean up the scrap yard?”

“Julianna didn’t tell you?” Now it was Quinn’s turn to raise his brows. “She and Angel are also members of a FEMA Urban Search and Rescue team. She thinks this mess I haven’t cleared up yet will be an ideal site for training exercises for her team.”

“No, she didn’t mention it.” He smiled at Julianna, relieved that they’d moved past a rocky beginning. “You’ve turned into a talented lady.”

She shook her head slightly, something guarded in her dark eyes.

“We’re proud to have her here.” Quinn patted her shoulder, not seeming to notice. “She and Angel have gone to rescue sites all over the place. They’re heroes.”

“I’m impressed.” He didn’t know how the dog felt about it, but Julianna was obviously embarrassed. Or was the feeling something deeper than embarrassment? He wasn’t sure.

Quinn gave him a challenging look. “You know, buddy, you could do worse than join the team here at Montgomery Construction while you’re home on leave. I could use you, and you’d like it here. Wouldn’t he, Julianna?”

The proposal startled him, but before he could respond, something else startled him even more—the look in Julianna’s face at the comment. Dismay filled her dark eyes before she masked her expression.

“I’m sure he would.” She turned, clicking her fingers to the dog. “You’ll excuse me, won’t you? I need to get back to work.”

Woman and dog moved quickly away. He watched Julianna’s slim, straight back for a moment before turning a frowning glance on Quinn.

“I’m not looking for charity.” His voice grated on the word. “Thanks, anyway.”

“Good thing,” Quinn replied evenly. “Since I’m not offering it.”

“Nice try, Q, but I don’t know a thing about the construction business and you know it.” He didn’t know about anything but flying. And if he couldn’t do that—“Did my mother put you up to this? Or Holly?”

It would be just like his twin sister to interfere. She was so eager to distract him from his troubles that she was driving him nuts.

“Nobody put me up to anything,” Quinn said. “You always were too stubborn for your own good.”

“You’re a good one to talk. Your father used to say you could give lessons to a mule.”

Once Quinn made up his mind to something, there was no moving him. Maybe that quality in common had helped forge their friendship.

Quinn shrugged. “Face it, buddy. You need something to occupy your time while you’re stuck on medical leave, or your loving family will drive you crazy fussing over you.”

True enough, but Quinn’s job offer still sounded like charity.

“And I need someone I can trust around here.” Quinn paused, his usual smile dimming. “You know that we seem to have become a target in the past few months, don’t you?”

He nodded. “I’ve heard something about it. My mother keeps trying to protect me from hearing anything bad, but she couldn’t prevent my knowing about the fires. Or about Uncle Max getting shot.”

Maxwell Vance had been in a coma since the shooting, a continuing grief to the family. Some people said he’d made too many enemies during his brief term as mayor by taking a hard line on drugs.

“That’s been a tough situation. You know we’re all praying for him.”

“Yes. Thanks.” His throat tightened at the thought.

Quinn’s face darkened. “As for the fire, the investigators seem to think Neil O’Brien was responsible. You wouldn’t know him, probably. He was an assistant fire chief.”

“Was?”

“The department suspended him while the investigation’s going on. There’s even a rumor he may have been involved in drugs.”

“You’d think they’d have him under arrest, then.”

Quinn shrugged. “Suspicion isn’t evidence. On the surface, there’s no connection between that and your uncle’s shooting and the vandalism we’ve been having, but I’m not taking any chances.”

“I don’t know much about security, either.”

In fact, he didn’t know much about any job, other than flying. Bitterness washed over him. If God were really in control, why were all these bad things happening to them?

“Maybe not, but you’re smart and you’re tough. And I can trust you.” Quinn nudged his shoulder. “Anyway, you owe me. Think of all those times I got slammed to the turf protecting the quarterback so you could throw a touchdown pass.”

“If that’s how you remember it, maybe you hit the turf a few too many times.” He grinned, suddenly feeling a little more like himself again. At least Quinn didn’t treat him like an invalid. “All right, sign me up. I’ll do it.”

Quinn grabbed his hand and shook it, obviously pleased with his decision. Maybe now wasn’t the moment to add the reservation in his mind.

I’ll do it…for the time being. But when this injury heals, when I can see well enough to fly again, I’ll be out of here in a hurry.

He had to say when, not if. He couldn’t handle any other possibility.

Quinn clapped him on the shoulder. “Come inside, and I’ll go over the operation with you. We’ll tell Julianna to spread the word, so everyone knows why you’re poking around.”

Julianna. A faint unease entered his mind. Julianna had been dismayed at the prospect of Quinn offering the job. How was she going to react now that he’d accepted it?

Two days had passed, and Julianna still wasn’t used to seeing Ken every day. She frowned at her computer screen. It was tough to concentrate when he could walk in the door at any moment.

At least Ken seemed to spend most of his time out in the yard or at the site of the company’s biggest project, the new physical therapy wing of Vance Hospital. The ongoing cases of vandalism there had everyone on edge.

So he wasn’t here, and even if he were, she’d cope. She wouldn’t let herself think about what had happened between them once upon a time.

She stared at the figures on the screen, but they seemed to blur. Instead she saw a high school corridor, lined with lockers. Ken leaned against one, his red letter jacket standing out against the gray metal. She’d known that locker well—she’d certainly spent enough time lurking in the hallway to catch a glimpse of Ken.

She must have been crazy that day. It was the only explanation that made any sense. He’d noticed her, smiled at her, and she’d blurted out her love without a thought for the consequences.

Her face burned even now at the thought of his appalled expression. She’d whirled at the sound of laughter to find several of his buddies behind her. They’d heard. They’d laughed. And it had been all over school in a day.

To give Ken credit, he’d tried to be kind to her after that, but she couldn’t accept kindness from him. Since her grandparents wouldn’t let her quit school, she’d had to tough it out. She put on the poker face she excelled at, courtesy of the Zuni Pueblo side of her family, and pretended not to hear the whispers and snickers.

Somehow she’d gotten through the rest of that year. Eventually people had found other things to talk about, the excitement of graduation wiping everything else from their minds.

She’d survived. She’d made a success of her life. She wouldn’t let a high school mistake affect her job.

They’d both changed. She’d said something like that to Ken, and it was true. The lithe, smiling boy had turned into a strong, broad-shouldered man. The responsibility of command had put lines in his face, emphasizing his maturity, but his golden-brown eyes still seemed to look toward the skies.

Somehow she thought the lines of tension around his lips were recent, the product of the trials of the past few months. The crash had left a few visible scars on him, and probably many more that weren’t so visible.

Her heart seemed to wince at the thought. Be with him, Lord. He’s struggling now—I know it.

She could pray for him, but that was all she could do. Kenneth Vance was out of her league. He had been in high school, and he still was. She tapped the keys, determined to concentrate on the report and banish Ken from her thoughts.

Unfortunately for her concentration, the door banged open. Somehow she knew without turning around that it was Ken. Well, they were colleagues now. She could act like a friend.

“How’s it going?” He came to perch on the edge of her desk, looking as if all he had to do all day was sit there and watch her. In jeans and a sweatshirt, he had a casual charm. She could imagine how devastating he’d be in his Air Force uniform.

“Fine.” She perched her hands on the keys and tried to look busy. “Are things quiet down at the site?”

“Minor vandalism.” He frowned, lines forming between his straight eyebrows. “The cops think it’s just resentment from people who were relocated when the hospital took over that block.”

“That’s natural enough, I guess. No matter how rundown the houses were, they were home to someone.”

He rubbed the left side of his forehead, the side where the puckered scar was dangerously close to his eye. She shuddered a little inside. Holly, Ken’s sister, had told her that Ken’s vision was affected by the accident—that was why he couldn’t fly. Any closer and he’d have lost the eye entirely.

“What?” He was frowning at her now, and she knew she’d stared at him too long.

“Nothing. I was just thinking that you looked as if you have a headache. Maybe you should take a break.”

He stood abruptly, his posture straight. Military. He looked at her as if he’d never met her.

“I’m fine. I don’t need anyone fussing over me.” He wheeled and stalked out.

That went well. She pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes.

Ken didn’t want to be her friend. He didn’t need anyone else to care about him.

What did she expect? He had hordes of friends and family just waiting to help him. But did they see what she saw? Did they see the scars the accident had left on his soul?

Maybe she recognized it in him because she’d been there, too. She knew what it was like to feel like a failure. To feel that God had deserted you.

Images rocketed through her mind, and she forced them away. She couldn’t control the pictures when they came to her in her dreams at night, but she could when she was awake. She wouldn’t let them in.

That made it all the more impossible for her to help Ken, even if he’d been willing. She’d just begun trying to stumble her way back to spiritual wholeness. She couldn’t help Ken, because she wasn’t even sure she could help herself.

The stained-glass windows of the church parlor were dark images at night, but the room was warm with lamplight and the buzz of soft conversation. Julianna had been attending the evening Bible study for only about a month, but already she felt at home here. Pastor Gabriel Dawson had the gift of making everyone who walked through the door feel welcome.

The grandfather clock in the corner of the parlor struck the hour, and at the signal people began finding seats. The older folks settled into the conversational grouping of couches and love seats. Julianna slid into the back row of folding chairs.

She glanced toward the door. Holly Vance, now Holly Montgomery since her marriage, was usually here by this time. Of course, with the excitement of having her brother home, to say nothing of her pregnancy and taking care of her husband and home, she could have decided to skip tonight’s session.

The door opened. Holly came in, the aqua sweater she wore laying smoothly over the rounded bulge of her pregnancy.

Julianna smiled, meeting her eyes, and waved. Holly waved back, a little wiggle of her fingers indicating they’d sit together.

And then Julianna saw who came in the door behind her. Ken.

Several other people saw Ken at the same time, and they began getting up, surrounding him to shake his hand or hug him. Their welcomes gave her the minutes she needed to compose herself.

She should have guessed Holly might bring him. She was Ken’s twin, after all, and she was probably the closest to him of all his numerous relatives. Right now Holly was beaming, obviously considering it a coup that she’d succeeded in getting him here. She looked up at her tall brother with such pride and pleasure that it made Julianna blink back tears.

By the time they sat down beside her, she was able to smile, appear composed and act as if it didn’t matter in the least that the object of her high school dreams was sitting next to her. But she was thankful when Pastor Gabriel began the study and she could focus her attention on him.

It wasn’t the fault of Pastor Gabriel’s excellent presentation on Psalms that her gaze strayed to Ken’s strong hand, clasped tightly on his knee. Judging by the set to his jaw and the tension in his hand, Holly’s plan to bring him tonight wasn’t as successful as she might have hoped.

It also wasn’t Pastor Gabriel’s fault that it was taking all her strength to keep the dark images at bay. Maybe she should blame that on Ken. It was his stress that was fueling hers.

She tried to focus on the psalm they were discussing. “The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom should I fear?” Was that what kept coming between her and God—fear? Fear that she couldn’t cut it any longer, that her courage was gone for good, that she’d let someone else die—

Now it was her hands that clasped tightly enough to hurt. And she felt Ken’s gaze on her, noticing, probing. Deliberately she relaxed her hands, not looking at him.

Pastor Gabriel asked for prayer requests as he ended the session. Several people mentioned concerns. She pulled out her notebook to jot them down so that she could continue to pray during the week.

Holly, voice lilting, asked for prayers of thanksgiving for Ken’s safe return. Then she turned toward Ken, as if inviting him to share a request as well.

He wasn’t going to. Julianna knew it and thought it strange that Holly didn’t. His bitterness washed over her in a wave, so strong that it almost obliterated Pastor Gabriel’s voice, raised in prayer.