Valerie Hansen - Nightwatch

“We don’t dare assume that anything that happens from now on is innocent or simple.”

Lowering his voice, Mitch added, “Those kids in there are orphans because somebody purposely killed their parents.”

Jill felt a shiver zing up her spine. Mitch was right. She grabbed his arm in a viselike grip. “You don’t think the children are really in danger, do you?”

“I don’t know.” His eyes narrowed. “Are you willing to take the chance they aren’t and let down your guard?”

“Of course not!” She didn’t release her hold until she’d said, “I’m scared, Mitch.”

To her chagrin, he replied, “Yeah. So am I.”

The last thing Jill wanted to do was frighten the children more than they already were. Mitch seemed to sense her uneasiness. He paused and laid a hand of gentle comfort on her shoulder. “It’ll be okay. I’ll take care of everything. I promise.”

Dear Reader,

I spent many years working with elementary-school children. That’s probably why, when it comes time to write about them, I usually create characters between four and eight years old. Those are the ages I think I understand—as much as any adult can. In those days I saw my job as a way to demonstrate the love of Christ in a secular atmosphere. Now I do it mostly in print.

This is the first book in my new miniseries, The Defenders, that features the work of CASA volunteers. These court-appointed special advocates represent children in regard to the legal system, appearing before any judge who is being asked to decide their fate. It’s a thankless, unpaid position that must make all of heaven rejoice, especially when there is a happy ending.

I pray that your personal happy ending includes a commitment to Jesus Christ. Mine certainly does. I love to hear from my readers. The easiest way to reach me is by email, val@valeriehansen.com, or send a letter to P.O. Box 13, Glencoe, AR 72539. You can also see my other work at www.valeriehansen.com.

Blessings,

VALERIE HANSENwas thirty when she awoke to the presence of the Lord in her life and turned to Jesus. In the years that followed she worked with young children, both in church and secular environments. She also raised a family of her own and played foster mother to a wide assortment of furred and feathered critters.

Married to her high school sweetheart since age seventeen, she now lives in an old farmhouse she and her husband renovated with their own hands. She loves to hike the wooded hills behind the house and reflect on the marvelous turn her life has taken. Not only is she privileged to reside among the loving, accepting folks in the breathtakingly beautiful Ozark mountains of Arkansas, she also gets to share her personal faith by telling the stories of her heart for all of the Love Inspired lines.

Life doesn’t get much better than that!

Nightwatch

Valerie Hansen

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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My husband and son were career firefighters

and my daughter also volunteered

before she went into nursing.

The men and women in the fire service

put their whole hearts into their work

and no amount of praise or thanks for their efforts

will ever be enough.

Thanks also to the dedicated CASA volunteers

who take over after disasters and help children

put their lives back together.

Whoever receives one of these little children in

my name receives me; and whoever receives me,

receives not only me but Him who sent me.

— Mark 9:37

Boom!

Fire station windows rattled. Overhead lights vibrated. Captain Mitch Andrews froze, held his breath and braced himself with both palms on his desktop.

“ What in the world was that? ” someone shouted down the hallway.

Mitch figured every telephone in Serenity was already tied up by folks asking each other the same question. Their dispatcher would be fortunate to receive information giving a halfway accurate location of the problem, let alone a clear report of conditions at the scene.

A firefighter stuck his head through Mitch’s office doorway. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know. But it must be bad. Get ready to roll.”

What he desperately wanted to do was grab a phone and call Jill; at least hear her sweet voice and make sure she was far from the current danger before he left the station. Duty didn’t allow him that luxury. Not this time.

Sprinting for the hangar, he slammed his fist into the buttons that raised the bay doors. The siren mounted on the roof was starting to scream, rising and falling in pitch until he could barely hear his own voice over the wail.

“Jake, you round up the volunteers and get them moving as soon as you can,” Mitch yelled, hailing the first man to clear the door. “I have a feeling we’re going to need every piece of equipment we own on this one.”

“Yes, sir,” the engineer shouted. “What blew up?”

“Don’t know yet.”

Mitch listened to the details coming in over his handheld radio, then answered with, “Copy. All units responding to the vicinity of the county airport. ETA five minutes or less. Are ambulances started?”

The affirmative response gave him little comfort. Their small, local landing strip was located several miles outside town. If anyone had been in close proximity to an explosion violent enough to be felt this strongly at his fire station, they were going to need the coroner, not ambulances and EMTs.

Running, he grabbed his turnout coat, squashed his red captain’s helmet over tousled, sandy-blond hair and jumped aboard the first engine out the door.

There was a bright, shimmering glow in the night sky as the driver headed west. Something had not simply blown up, it was also burning. Mitch gritted his teeth. There was only so much they could do to preserve life and property, no matter how state-of-the-art their equipment might be, and Serenity Fire Department was always struggling to keep up with new technology for both firefighting and medical aid calls.

“Was it a plane crash?” the driver shouted.

“Don’t know.” Mitch’s heart was in his throat. “If it was, I sure hope they missed the industrial buildings out that way.”

“I wonder. Looks like a lot of fire for one small plane.”

“Yeah,” Mitch replied, releasing his breath in a whoosh. “It sure does.”

Siren blaring, lights flashing, the engine slued around the last corner that brought them face to face with the conflagration.

Mitch’s spirits sank like a stone in a bottomless lake. He could see the unscathed, white-enameled roof of the Pearson Products warehouse. However, part of the manufacturing building next to it was engulfed in flames and it looked as if that fire was about to spread to the attached, single-family dwelling—if it hadn’t already breached the common wall.