Ginny Aiken - Someone to Trust

“Shouldn’t you be back at the theatre, trying to put out the fire? Or trying to figure out what happened?”

Rand shrugged. “The blaze is under control. We have to wait for things to cool down before we can start poking around for answers.”

Cate gave him a long, measuring look. “You might want to bring the sheriff up to speed tonight rather than tomorrow. He’s going to need your help.”

Rand leaned forward, his jaw tight, hands itching with a surge of adrenaline. “What kind of help?”

“Professional.” She sat up, shoved a hand through the thick mane of hot cocoa-brown waves. “Dad says it wasn’t just a fire. It was a meth lab explosion.”

GINNY AIKEN

is a former newspaper reporter, and lives in Pennsylvania with her engineer husband and their three younger sons—the 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 “mature” 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. She’s now the author of more than twenty published works and a frequent speaker at Christian women’s and writers’ workshops, but has yet to catch up with that elusive sanity.

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In you our fathers put their trust;

they trusted and you delivered them.

—Psalms 22:4

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

EPILOGUE

QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION

In you our fathers put their trust; They trusted and you delivered them.

Psalm 22:4 NIV

“NOOOO!”

Catelyn Caldwell’s 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 town’s favorite structures.

The marquee thundered down onto the sidewalk. Its crash ricocheted off Main Street’s 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 Cate’s eyes, more painful than the waves of heat slapping her face. Fear shot bile up her middle. What if…?

“Stop it!” 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. “The theater’s on fire and your dad went in after Wilma Tucker.” Frustration had made his voice tight. “She wouldn’t leave. Said she’d do more good wetting everything down from the inside. Wouldn’t listen to reason. Then, when things got bad, I couldn’t talk Joe out of going in after her. You might want to head on over here.”

As if anything could have kept her away.

Joe Caldwell, Loganton’s fire chief, had been putting his life on the line every day since he’d 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 Cate’s 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 didn’t want to face the possibility of—

No. She wasn’t going there.

Squaring her shoulders, she took a step forward. While she’d been called all kinds of things at different times in her life, she’d never been called a coward.

With every step, her terror at the thought of disaster grew. I can’t, I can’t, I can’t.

She’d 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. She’d had a front-row seat for that nightmare. Cate had been a passenger in the car they’d swerved to avoid.

Surviving that nightmare had taken more than she could stand to surrender again. And yet, because of the nature of her father’s 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 sister’s 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 me…

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.

Her dad’s men filled the street, water hoses spewing, ladders extended, calling out instructions in tight, intense voices. The silence of the night, an ominous backdrop to all the activity, felt oppressive, threatening.

As she approached the firefighters, Cate’s shivers became tides of tremors. When she stepped off the curb a block down and across the street from the blaze, she stumbled and nearly landed on the road.

She took a second to get a grip on her emotions and nerves. At least, she tried—not an easy feat as she scanned the burning building one more time. “Stop thinking the worst,” she told herself.

One of the firefighters separated himself from the rest of the team and came toward her. Cate could see the lines of stress on Neal Hunter’s face. Under the yellow hard hat, her dad’s best friend’s face glistened with sweat. She called out his name.

He trotted the last few steps toward her. “I’m hoping the guys will turn the corner with this monster soon. I don’t think it’s spreading anymore.”

At the thought of what she had to ask, she shook harder. “Has he…have you seen him?”

The flash of pain across Neal’s face said everything she needed to know.

“Do you think there’s any chance Dad’s still…?”

His eyes blazed as bright as the flames. “There’s every chance, Cate. The fire is worse in one spot in the basement. I figure Joe yanked Wilma away from dumping buckets on it and dragged her to the safer area at the back. Don’t ever give up hope.”

The smile she tried to give him wobbled around the edges as his words registered. “So the blaze started down there, away from the patrons.”

“Looks that way. Don’t think we’re looking at kids smoking in the john or anything like that.”