Last Resort Page 4

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “Your wife was so young to be taken like that. It must have been awful for both of you.”

  “I tried to be there for her as much as I could, while still trying to shoulder all the responsibilities of the church myself.” And Hideaway Community Church had become his undoing, especially after the aggressive ovarian cancer took Natalie in such a short time. “It became too much for me during her illness. I couldn’t cope with the needs of so many, and even though the church was supportive, I guess I felt like a failure.” As always, he had an uncomfortable tendency to spill his guts to Noelle.

  “I was so caught up in my own problems at the time, I wasn’t there for you,” she said.

  “I brought it on myself, with my inability to delegate responsibility in the church. I had the erroneous attitude, thinking of myself as God’s anointed, who should be able to do it all. I was wrong.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said softly.

  “I knew what a rough time you were having then, with Joel,” Nathan said. “I’ve heard the comment that a divorce is more painful than a death. In a way, not only is divorce the announcement of the death of a relationship, but it’s also, in the eyes of many, a sign of rejection.”

  “For me it was a sign of failure,” she said quietly. “By the time the judge pronounced us no longer husband and wife, I felt as though I’d been released from prison.”

  He gave her a quick glance.

  She shrugged. “The drugs, the abuse.” She pressed a forefinger against the small scar beside her left eye. “This is just the most visible scar he gave me. I kept thinking I could hold out and see him through all of it, that I was the one person who could rescue him from himself.” She gave a bitter snort. “I discovered I wasn’t so special, after all.”

  “Then I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you, either.” Nathan risked another glance at her; she was staring out the window again. “And so you changed professions because of the experience, just as I did.”

  “I didn’t have a choice. I couldn’t find a job after I was dismissed from the clinic. No one wanted to take a chance on a proven drug abuser.”

  Nathan’s foot involuntarily eased from the accelerator and the truck slowed. He couldn’t keep the shock from his expression.

  “I did offer to drive if you need me to,” she said dryly.

  “That’s okay.” He regained his composure. “I guess there are some things I still don’t know about you.”

  “There are some things you won’t want to know. Let’s just say I made a mess of things once too often, and I’ve been paying for it ever since.”

  “But you shouldn’t have to keep paying for it for the rest of your life.”

  “Maybe I should. Get over it, Nathan. I have.”

  “But you always wanted to be a nurse.”

  She returned to her brooding.

  Time for yet another subject change. Amazing how they’d once been able to discuss anything together, and now they had to tiptoe around so many areas of their lives.

  She pointed to the first outlying buildings of the town of Hideaway, the breathtaking view of the lake to their right and the picturesque town square to their left—a square on which the brick storefronts faced the street that encircled it on all four sides.

  Nathan drove past the clinic, general store, feed store, bakery and bank, then followed the curve in the road through a charming residential district, lush with trees and shrubbery and lined with a variety of homes, from colorfully painted Victorian houses to neat brick Colonials and ranches and small lake cabins. This early in the morning, all was quiet. Nathan and Noelle passed Jill’s two-story Victorian on their way out of town.

  “Nothing stirring in town yet,” Noelle said.

  “Which means everyone’s probably still out at Cedar Hollow.”

  “Which means they haven’t found Carissa yet.”

  Nathan returned his attention to the road as he picked up speed.

  The first sight to greet Noelle as Nathan sped along the paved country lane toward Cooper land was the trees—lush, green and tall, except for a narrow swath of twisted and stunted growth to the right of the lane for about a quarter of a mile that followed the curve downhill into Cedar Hollow. It was the only remaining evidence of the tornado that had torn through the hollow two years earlier. This was the Coopers’ very own tornado alley—with the tops of the trees ripped off and scattered for miles, along with the roof of the old barn behind Cecil Cooper’s house.

  Turning in her seat, away from the window, Noelle watched Nathan drive. His muscles rippled in his bare forearms as he steered to miss a pothole. Due to the number of logging trucks that came this way, the county road crew had to struggle to keep this road repaired.

  Nathan’s face seemed to brood in the flickering shades of light and shadow as he drove under an arching tunnel of trees.

  Noelle’s gaze returned to the road. A few hundred feet ahead, she saw the sturdy cedar stand that supported four mailboxes, belonging to Cecil and Melva, Great-Aunt Pearl, the Cooper Sawmill and the last in the line to Nathan. Forever a country boy at heart, he had returned to his roots when he moved back to the farm where he’d grown up, in the house that was hidden from view to their right, behind a thick stand of lodgepole pine.

  Nathan turned left into the paved driveway on Cooper land. The sawmill was a quarter of a mile along this wooded lane.

  “Did you hear Harvey Sand died?” Nathan asked.

  “Jill told me.” Harvey had done the monthly and annual accounting for Cooper Sawmill for the past fifteen years. His secretary had found him unconscious at the bottom of his staircase at home last Friday morning. “Did he ever regain consciousness?”

  “Not that I heard.”

  “So they still don’t know what happened for sure. Is the sheriff continuing to investigate?”

  “Probably. You know Greg, always suspicious.”

  Noelle peered around at the growing gloom as the clouds seemed to congregate over Cooper land. How appropriate today, with Carissa missing. Obviously, some rain had already fallen, judging by the dripping leaves on the trees and the damp pavement. “Nathan, Jill said you were still doing some counseling for the family.”

  “She did?”

  He sounded hesitant, and Noelle glanced at him. Once more, his posture was perfectly correct, his grip on the steering wheel precise, his gaze straight ahead at the road. Interesting.

  “Are you trying to get to the bottom of the Cooper family psyche?” She was only half joking.

  He looked away. “You know I’m not a counselor.”

  “I know you’re not a psychologist, but once a pastor always a pastor.”

  “Just because someone’s a pastor doesn’t mean he’s a good counselor.”

  “You have a knack. Don’t be so modest.” She’d heard enough local gossip to know that his solid common sense had helped to heal more than one fragile marriage in Hideaway.

  “Okay,” she said. “I understand all about confidentiality.”

  “Right. I’m liable.”

  “Even if it is family.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Okay.” She was dying of curiosity, but that had landed her in trouble before. She studied Nathan’s closed expression. Okay. For now, she’d drop the subject and focus on finding Carissa.

  Nathan glanced sideways to see Noelle’s dark brows drawn together, her blue eyes narrowed in concentration. What was she thinking? He knew she wasn’t sulking over his refusal to disclose confidential information to her.

  Again, he glanced at the scar beside her left eye. He’d noticed her rubbing her finger over the indentation several times, an automatic gesture that revealed more about her than she probably wanted anyone to know. What did that man do to her? When Nathan and Noelle were younger, she’d had an impulsive sense of fun, an almost constant light of humor in her eyes. She’d often poked fun at herself, but not at others. Her face had always been in motion, expressing her thoughts and feelings with
out words. In repose, her facial features gave the appearance of exquisite elegance—her nose almost too delicate and straight, her cheekbones almost too high, her dimpled chin too perfect. When they were growing up, it was that beauty that people had seen in her, often missing the sharp intelligence behind the radiance of her eyes, framed by long, dark lashes.

  Nathan blamed Noelle’s beauty for the end of their friendship. When they entered high school, she’d become a focus of attention for the guys, and Nathan, a nerd, had faded into the background of her life to watch her flit from one relationship to the next in rapid succession. It was then that he’d painfully realized he no longer had a best friend. It was then, with the sense of sadness, that he’d discovered Whom his real best friend had always been.

  From that time, the focus of his life had changed. His final interaction with Noelle—the one that had broken their friendship for several years—happened the day he’d overheard some guys in gym class comparing notes about her, shocking notes that had sickened him.

  When he’d confronted her, right there in the busy main corridor at Hideaway High, there had been an ugly shouting match between them that had been talked about for weeks afterward.

  Funny, until her divorce, Nathan hadn’t realized—hadn’t allowed himself to realize—how deeply Noelle had been a part of his life during their formative years. Lately, the more he saw her, the more he wanted to see her, aside from any question of romance. In fact, he’d reminded himself over and over again that a romance could put their friendship at risk, and he wanted to keep her friendship.

  Nathan’s truck topped a wooded knoll and the gray-brown angles of the sawmill came into view. Several cars and pickup trucks were parked in the lot—more than usual. All the employees were beating the brush in search of Carissa.

  Nathan’s truck bounced down the steep lane into the valley and over the low-water bridge that was already under at least five inches of water from the recent rains.

  Noelle gave a sudden, soft gasp, and Nathan glanced at her.

  “What’s wrong?”

  She took a deep breath and blinked.

  “Is it happening again?” he demanded.

  She nodded and closed her eyes.

  Chapter Five

  Carissa’s eyes opened to complete blackness. All she could hear was the drip of water, and all she could feel was the hard stone floor beneath her. She sniffed the earthy, moist air, and remembered where she was. Tears filled her eyes and trickled down her cheeks. She tasted the saltiness on her lips.

  “Jesus, please help me,” she prayed in a whisper. “I’m scared. Where am I? Why hasn’t anybody found me yet?”

  Her soft words bounced off the rock that surrounded her…but when she stopped praying, the whispers continued, sliding past the rock wall, slithering through the blackness.

  Her attacker was back! She clamped both hands over her mouth to keep from crying out.

  There was a scuff of shoes on a hard surface, a flicker of light that turned the blackness to dark gray. The footsteps drew closer, the whispering voice became louder.

  Carissa cringed against the wall, afraid to breathe. Could she be seen? Her head pounded once more with sudden pain, and she gasped aloud without thinking.

  The footsteps stopped, and so did the whispering. Carissa squeezed her eyes shut. Make whoever it is go away, Jesus. Hide me! Please, Jesus, keep me safe!

  The whispering started again, the footsteps drew closer. Then the words grew more pronounced.

  “Control,” she heard, on an eerie breath of sound. “I’m in control. I can take care of this. She’s here and I can find her.”

  There was a clatter of pebbles above Carissa’s head. The searcher was above her now!

  She held her breath. Please Jesus please Jesus please.

  Then the whispering faded, becoming less distinct. The sound of footsteps moved away. Carissa opened her eyes and peered out at the reflection of a flashlight beam against a white column several yards away. She stuck her head out of her tiny hiding place, but the light had disappeared.

  She settled back into her hiding place and waited. Jesus was watching over her.

  “Noelle, listen to me, please tell me what’s happening,” Nathan said quietly.

  She blinked at the gloomy daylight outside the windshield, then realized Nathan was watching her intently.

  “It’s okay,” he said. “You’re all right.” His voice was gentle, reassuring, as though he were speaking to a child. He caught her hands in his.

  She tried to withdraw them.

  He didn’t release her. “What’s this all about? Was this the same as last night?” he asked.

  She nodded.

  “How does that feel? What happens? What goes through your mind?”

  “It isn’t anything dramatic or overflowing,” she whispered, as if speaking aloud might make this sudden knowledge disappear. “I’m sorry, I can’t explain, really. It’s too…new to me.”

  “Once upon a time, you understood what it was.”

  “Yeah, well, once upon a time I was an innocent child, but too many things happened to change that. It’s been many years since I’ve felt His blessing.” There. She’d admitted it to him. The faith of her childhood had failed her. Or maybe it hadn’t failed, but she had failed it…failed God…failed herself.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked.

  She straightened and withdrew her hands; this time he let them go. She sat back and stared out the windshield. “If this is a gift from God, as you say, then He must have made a mistake.”

  “You know better.”

  She raised a hand to stop his protest. “Would you just listen for a minute? You saw the way I was in high school—desperately in need of attention and love and willing to go to any lengths to find it.”

  “I came to grips with that years ago,” Nathan said gently. “You’d lost your mother, and your father wasn’t home with you much. Your sister tried to make it up to you, but that was impossible. Why don’t you give yourself a break?”

  “And why won’t you at least let me complete a thought without interrupting?” She kept her voice gentle, but she needed him to hear her out.

  “Sorry.”

  “During nursing school I dated a drug addict, and after graduation I married him. How stupid is that? I’m talking illegal street drugs, Nathan. And I used them myself. You think God wants to give a gift to someone like that?”

  “I think you’re making judgments you should leave to God. Sure, you got carried away and blew it badly a few times. But you aren’t the same person you were then, so stop with the guilt complex and tell me what you were experiencing a moment ago,” he said.

  “Oh, come on, Nathan, you sound like an overeager newspaper reporter. What do you think I was feeling?”

  “I don’t have your gift, but you looked very concerned about something.”

  “You got it.” Her voice caught. She cleared her throat. “Very concerned.”

  “But about what?”

  “Carissa. It’s urgent that we find her quickly. But we all know that.” She focused on the familiar features of his face, at the unusual cedar-green of his eyes. “You really think this is a message from God?”

  “Yes I do. Your gift has returned.”

  She watched for some break in his gaze, some hint of doubt. There was none. “I’m not some holy saint, Nathan. If this is a gift, there are many far more worthy recipients who—”

  “Worthy?” he interrupted, impatiently. “A saint is simply someone who has put faith in Him. You’ve been a believer since you were six.”

  “But you know I haven’t—”

  “He can use anyone He pleases for whatever work He wants done, with or without that person’s help,” he interrupted again. “With you, I think He gives you special knowledge that you need to know, not something you conjure for yourself, because He’s the one in control, not you. When you dreamed about your mother before she died, I think He was preparing you.”


  Noelle nodded. “Okay. So what’s He giving me now?”

  “You’re here, aren’t you? Obviously you need to search for Carissa.”

  She nodded, watching the tension in his expression. “You don’t look too chipper,” she noted. “I thought you dealt with this kind of thing before in your pastoral duties.”

  “This kind of thing? You’re kidding, right? This is not your normal, everyday counseling session or grief process.” He slid back behind the steering wheel, shifted into Drive and eased forward along the lane.

  “Okay, then if these episodes I’m having are connected to Carissa, why can’t I see where she is? Why didn’t I receive some brilliant flash of understanding, some mental map about where to go to find her?”

  “Because you aren’t writing the script. God is. He’ll guide you when it’s time.” He glanced at her briefly. “So were there any other impressions a moment ago?”

  Noelle gazed at the ceiling of the truck, reluctant to accept that this was even happening. But still…“I felt she was alone in the dark and frightened of some unknown threat.”

  “Something? Or someone? Or just the dark itself?”

  “Someone.” That much Noelle knew, though it was still a mystery to her how she’d reached that certainty. “But that doesn’t make sense. I can’t believe anyone would kidnap Carissa.”

  “Could be revenge. You know Cecil. He has a way of—”

  “Making people angry,” she finished for him. “I know. He’s always been quicker to engage his mouth than his brain. But still, only a nutcase would try to take that out on Carissa.”

  “Excuse me, but a ‘nutcase’ is exactly who we’re talking about here.”

  “Okay. Fine.” Noelle gazed out the window at the bright-red sumac bushes along the edges of the lane, at the red Virginia creeper vines outlining tree limbs, threaded among the canopy of green leaves. “Come to think of it, we sound like a couple of nutcases ourselves. If anyone were to overhear us talking—”