LITMIR.BIZ

Скачать книгу

where she’d left off. “Redemption draws people, Cheyenne. I don’t know how exactly but the Lord must lead them here.”

      A skeptical Cheyenne searched the motel owner’s guileless face. Kitty Wainright seemed too nice to be one of those religious wackos. “You’re saying God told me to come to this town?”

      That was about as far from true as the woman could get.

      “No.” The sun gleamed off blond hair as Kitty shook her head. “I said He leads people—people who need what Redemption has to offer.”

      “I have to be honest with you, Kitty. I’m not sure what I believe about God anymore.”

      Kitty slid the room key into the door marked with the number 4. As she pushed it open and cool, potpourri-scented air wafted out, she turned and placed a hand on Cheyenne’s arm. “Then I have good news for you, girl. Those with questions, those who are struggling, they’re exactly the ones He leads to Redemption.”

      Chapter Three

      Cheyenne awoke the next morning with a headache and the remnants of the dream lingering like a bad odor. She sat on the side of the bed, head in her hands, for several minutes to clear the fog.

      Last night as usual, after checking and rechecking the locks, she’d lain awake for hours with the lights on. Her thoughts had run the gamut from the old bums to the handsome vet to Kitty’s curious comment about God.

      She’d stumbled onto the town of Redemption by accident. A spot on the map. A place to land. There was no other explanation. Certainly not some mystical voice from God.

      She scrubbed at her face with both hands, ashamed of her cynical attitude. Kitty hadn’t talked about voices, though her meaning was as mysterious as a voice would have been.

      After a glance at the clock-radio, Cheyenne dragged herself out of bed and to the shower. Today was the first day of the rest of her life and she was determined to find a job and get on with living.

      By the time she was dressed and ready to hunt down the Sugar Shack, her cell phone jingled. After checking the caller ID, she answered. “Hi, Brent.”

      “Hey, sis.” Her brother’s deep voice eased an ache in her chest. “Where are you? Still sleeping in your car?”

      “Believe it or not, no.” She looked around the motel room. Kitty took pains to make the units more homey than most. “I’m in a motel in Redemption, a little town in Oklahoma.”

      Brent whistled. “Long way from home, sis.”

      “Which is what we all agreed was best.”

      “I know. Still—”

      “A fresh start, new faces and time to forget.”

      “You can come home anytime, Chey. Dad and I will take care of you.”

      She wanted to take care of herself again, not huddle in her bedroom afraid of shadows and cruel speculation. Her dad and brother thought she should “put what happened behind her,” to “forget about it” and move on. She knew they meant well and she longed to follow their advice. She simply had not been able to do so.

      “Maybe someday when things blow over.”

      She reached under the pillow and moved a gun to her purse. Kitty probably wouldn’t appreciate knowing her new renter slept with a nine-millimeter Glock. Though Cheyenne never wanted to use the weapon again, she couldn’t fall asleep without that lethal assurance. Even then, sleep was fitful and filled with things she didn’t want to remember.

      “You should see this place, Brent. Redemption is like a step back in time. Homey, friendly.” She told him about the Dumpster-divers and savored his warm laugh. “They were interesting, let me tell you.”

      “I can imagine,” he said dryly.

      “And the woman who owns the motel hosts a Bible study every night.”

      Cynic that he was, Cheyenne could imagine Brent’s grimace. “Look out for weirdos.”

      “She’s not like that. Really. Although she said something strange about God leading needy souls to Redemption. Or some such.”

      “Told you. Weirdo.”

      Cheyenne pushed a strand of hair back from her forehead and grinned. “You always know how to cheer me up.”

      “You’re not planning to stay there in Weirdo-ville, are you?”

      “For now. I’m job-hunting today.”

      “Where?”

      She heard the tension in his tone.

      “Not police work.” Heaviness pulled on her insides like lead weights. “I know I can’t do that anymore, Brent.”

      “I’m sorry, sis,” he said softly.

      “Me, too.” More than sorry, she was brokenhearted. Being a police officer had been her life’s ambition.

      “How are you otherwise?”

      She knew what he meant. They never discussed the incident that had changed her life. Like everyone else, Brent and her father had wanted to pretend nothing had happened to her. If they didn’t talk about it, the issue would go away. They were wrong.

      The silence of friends and coworkers was one of the reasons she’d left Colorado Springs. No one but the antagonistic press wanted to discuss that night. No one wanted to admit that something terrible and life-changing had happened to strong, sensible Detective Rhodes. She looked all right on the outside, so she must be fine. Only she knew how wrong they were.

      The news media reminded her on a regular basis. Even after the investigation and the grand jury, reporters and gun-law activists stayed in her face. They were the second reason she’d fled her hometown.

      The other reasons went deeper and she suspected they’d followed her here.

      “I’m coping.” She would never be the same and she would always wonder what she’d done to deserve such a thing happening to her, but she was determined to keep living. Dwight Hector had hurt her. He’d stolen her peace, her sense of security, her relationships, her career and a year of her life, but she would not let him destroy her.

      “Good. Good.” He paused before continuing. “I guess you haven’t heard the latest news.”

      “Good or bad?”

      “Depends on your perspective, I guess. But it’s news I didn’t want you to hear from someone else.”

      “Am I being prosecuted?”

      “Chey, no. That’s over. You were cleared of all wrongdoing.”

      After her being under a cloud of suspicion for a year, the final ruling still didn’t register.

      “I keep expecting something else to pop up.” Like Dwight Hector, though she’d watched him die and knew he would never hurt another woman. She pushed at her hair and sighed. “I don’t know. I’m so tired of it all.”

      “Let the past go, sis. Be healed and happy again. I miss you.” Her brother’s pensive voice wrapped around her with love.

      “So what’s the big news?”

      A moment of silence told her she wasn’t going to like his message.

      Brent cleared his throat.

      “Spit it out, Brent. I’m immune to bad news.”

      “Right. That’s why you’re in some hick town called Redemption.”

      “Redemption is not a hick town. I like—” She stopped the sentence, realizing Brent was stalling. “Tell me.”

      “Paul is getting married. To Melinda.”

      Her eyes fell shut as she imagined her former fiancé marrying

Скачать книгу