“I don’t know. I’m not all-knowing the way my God is, but I do know I trust Him to do what’s best for believers, at least in the long run. The problem is that our minds are finite. We can’t look ahead and see why things happen the way they do. Half the time, we can’t even look back after everything is resolved and tell much. That’s where faith and trust come in.”
Jamie pulled a face. “Yeah, sure. Even if I could learn to trust God again, the way you say you do, how do I know He’d step in and keep me safe?”
Sifting through memories, Shane recalled something she’d said when she’d had shards of glass glittering in her hair. “Remember dodging the bullet in front of the old police station?”
“Sure.”
“Didn’t you tell me you just happened to bend over at exactly the right time?”
“Only because of the dog. I didn’t see any danger.”
“That makes it even better,” Shane insisted. “You might have reacted too slowly if the Lord had left you to your own devices, so he caused you to duck early.”
She rolled her eyes. “You don’t really believe that, do you?”
“Why not?” He shrugged as he sat back in his chair. “I happen to believe that I arrived just in time to rescue you from the house fire, and that it was no accident you were way across the park when somebody started beating on your truck. Dodging a bullet you didn’t see coming isn’t any more far-fetched than that.”
“Oh, sure. Then what about the guy who grabbed me outside my motel room?”
“You had your feisty dog in your arms to bite him, and I was standing by. The only thing better would have been having a cop stationed right at your door.”
He saw awareness alter her mood a moment before she said, “That’s right. The drop of blood. Did the lab get any results?”
“Nothing they could match,” Shane told her. “However, it gives us a base to build on if we’re able to ID a suspect.”
“Do you think we ever will?” Jamie asked soberly.
Shane hated to see her enthusiasm fading. “They’ll do their best at the state lab. We can’t do DNA testing on this whole town but I think there will come a time when we’ve narrowed our suspects enough to know who to ask for a sample.”
Jamie reached for her pencil and pad of paper. “We have to start somewhere. Even if you can’t remember the full names of my brother’s friends, can you give me a few hints on where to begin? Who to ask?”
Better that than approaching the judge or attorneys, Shane reasoned. Although anybody could have been involved in fixing the trial, those two were now his prime suspects. Them, and the defense attorney, Max Williford, who had left town shortly after the trial.
Locating that missing man would be his first goal. With the internet providing information on just about everybody, it shouldn’t prove difficult.
And when I find him, then what? Shane asked himself. He would cross that bridge of confusion when he came to it. Yes, he would help the women. But, no, he would not consider their safety secondary.
It was his fondest wish that Jamie Lynn would separate herself from his mother and son as often as possible. The times when they were together, he planned to be on scene, as well. And when they were apart, Harlan had promised covert protection. That was a perk Marsha had earned by virtue of being married to Sam. Shane’s most fervent prayer was that she would never need it.
That none of them would.
TEN
Something had subtly shifted in Jamie Lynn’s mind while she’d scanned Sam’s files, and she wasn’t at all pleased. Anger, self-reliance and determination had become overshadowed by a growing sense of uneasiness, bordering on mindless fear.
It was one thing to suspect that her brother had been railroaded into jail and quite another to see the names of his enemies on paper. So what if the sheriff’s notes were mere speculation? They were enough to convince her. There had to be a connection. And now that she knew whose backgrounds to probe, she’d either have to act or pack up and go back to Tessie’s.
Quitting was out of the question, of course. Beyond that, she hadn’t the faintest idea how to proceed. A quick glance at Shane told her little about his feelings in the matter. Marsha, however, was clearly plotting.
“Tomorrow is Sunday,” the older woman said, focusing on Jamie. “The best way for you to get a look at both the judge and attorney is to go to church with us.”
“Church?”
Shane nodded. “Yes. Unfortunately, both men are members of the congregation at Serenity Chapel.” He grimaced, and Jamie saw ire in his gaze. “When you’ve read all my dad’s notes you’ll see that others are, too.”