Gayle Roper - Caught In A Bind

There, gleaming softly under the harsh overhead light, sat a silver convertible.

“It came three days ago.” Randy ran his hand lovingly over the sleek curve of one fender. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

“That it is.” I began to circle the car. I didn’t want to prick Randy’s balloon, but all I could think of was how inappropriate this expensive car was for a novice driver. The potential for a serious accident was incredible!

If Randy met a sycamore in this marvelous car, he would be in big trouble.

I bent down to peer inside. I might as well study the upholstery before it was drenched with Randy’s blood.

Someone had beaten Randy to it.

Blood stained the passenger seat and floor.

I knew there had to be very little, if any, left in the very dead man who slumped against the gray leather interior….

GAYLE ROPER

has always loved stories, and she’s authored more than forty books. Gayle has won a Romance Writers of America’s RITA® Award for Best Inspirational Romance and finaled repeatedly for both RITA® and Christy® awards, won three Holt Medallions, a Reviewers’ Choice Award, the Inspirational Readers Choice Contest and a Lifetime Achievement Award as well as the Award of Excellence. Several writers’ conferences have cited her for her contributions to the training of writers. Her articles have appeared in numerous periodicals including Discipleship Journal and Moody Magazine, and she has contributed chapters and short stories to several anthologies. She enjoys speaking at writers’ conferences and women’s events, reading and eating out. She adores her kids and grandkids, and loves her own personal patron of the arts, her husband, Chuck.

www.millsandboon.co.uk

When I am afraid, I will trust in you.

—Psalms 56:3

For Christine Tangvald with love.

You are a woman of God who knows how to live godly in Christ Jesus. And you are fun! I wouldn’t have missed all those writers’ conferences and Disney World visits for anything.

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

This time I got myself into trouble without Jolene’s help. Not that she didn’t contribute, but at least she wasn’t the cause. Edie was. Or rather, Edie’s husband.

Edie Whatley is my coworker at The News: The Voice of Amhearst and Chester County, where she is editor of the family page and a features writer. I’m a general reporter and features writer.

“Edie,” I called across the aisle that separated our desks. “Can I do the ironmonger’s mansion at Hibernia Park for the Great Homes of Chester County series?” I thought it would be fun to write about that the big pale orange home set on the knoll above the gently sloping lawn.

There was no response from Edie.

“Edie!”

Still nothing.

I frowned. It wasn’t like her not to answer, especially since she was doing nothing but staring at her CRT screen.

Then spoke Jolene, Queen of Tact. “Edie, what in the world’s the matter with you, woman? You’ve been a mess all day.”

“Jolene!” I was appalled, but I had to admit that she got Edie’s attention. Edie blinked, skewered by Jolene’s accusing gaze.

“Spill it,” Jolene demanded. “Is it Randy?” Randy was Edie’s fifteen-year-old son whose life journey kept all of us glued for the next painful installment.

“Randy’s fine,” Edie said.

Jolene and I looked at each other, then back at Edie.

“He is?” I blurted with more disbelief than was probably good for our friendship.

“Well, probably fine is too strong a word, but he’s not bad.”

“He’s not?” Jolene’s surprise was equally obvious.

Edie’s face scrunched momentarily as she understood what we had inadvertently revealed about our opinions of her son. Then she got huffy, Edie-style. “I said he’s fine.”

“Well, if it’s not Randy,” Jolene continued, unabashed at having hurt Edie, “then what? Is it Tom?”

Edie smiled too brightly. “Tom? What could possibly be wrong with him?”

A good question. He and Edie doted on each other and didn’t care who knew. Being around them was instant tooth decay due to the sweetness of their relationship. I don’t mean just lovey, which I happen to think is good, or considerate, which I happen to think is necessary. It was the touching, the patting, the unconscious back rubbing and collar adjusting.

Tom was Edie’s second husband, and therein lay part of Randy’s problems. He didn’t like his stepfather.

Not that Tom should take that lack of appreciation personally. Randy didn’t appear to like any adults. He also didn’t like many kids, and I strongly suspected he didn’t care much for himself either.

But Tom took the brunt of all the boy’s angst and anger. More than once, Edie had come to work teary-eyed, only to tell Jolene and me about Randy’s latest verbal abuse and disobedience.

Randy’s father was a giant of a man, all muscles, charm, and good looks, a certified financial planner who over the years had made a mint in the stock market both for himself and his clients. Randy resembled him in size and coloring, a fact that gave the boy immense pride.

Tom on the other hand was a slight man, five feet eight inches in his hiking boots, gentle, pleasant and balding.

“He’s a car salesman!” Randy would mock, as if automotive retail was on a par with prostitution.

“Is Tom sick?” I asked.

Edie shook her head. “Not that I know of.”

Not yes or no. Not that I know of.

“Did he lose his job?”

Edie actually smiled at the thought of Tom losing his job. “Hamblin Motors would fall apart without him.”

I nodded. Even I, a relative newcomer to Amhearst, knew that Tom was Hamblin’s mainstay. Of course, my major source for this information was Edie, and I recognized that she was a wee bit biased.

“He just won a trip for two to Hawaii because of his winter doldrums sales. Only ten prizes were awarded in the whole country, and he won one.”

“Hawaii?” Jolene looked impressed. “When do you go?”

“In three weeks.” Edie looked uncertain, then nodded. “In three weeks.”

“Then what are you so upset about?” Jolene wouldn’t let well enough alone. “I mean, Hawaii!”

“I’m not upset.”

“And I’m not Eloise and Alvin Meister’s little girl.” Poor Edie. She was about to be slaughtered on the altar of Jolene’s curiosity and need to know.

“Jo,” I said quickly, “I think your plants need watering.” If anything would distract Jo from Edie, it would be her plants.

Jolene glanced around the newsroom at the lush greenery that made the place resemble a nursery. A giant grape ivy that had once tried to eat me alive sat on the soda machine. A huge jade plant graced the filing cabinet, and spectacularly healthy African violets sat in perpetually blooming splendor on the sill of the big picture window by the editor’s desk

She shook her head as she checked the soil of the spider plant on her desk. Baby spider plants erupted from the stems like little green and white explosions. “They’re all fine. I watered them yesterday.” She checked my philodendron and Edie’s croton, then returned to her grilling undeterred.