Inspirational Romance Author
Sharing God's Word through stories that touch the Heart
Books
Excerpt
Beth stepped out of the building into blinding
sunlight. She reached for her sunglasses in
her briefcase and felt the vibrations from her
cell phone buzzing inside her jacket pocket.
She jerked it out. Before flipping the phone
open, she glanced at the caller ID. Nausea
gripped her stomach. She turned and ran back
into the sheriff’s office.
Without waiting for his secretary to
acknowledge her, she flew through the sheriff’s
door and handed him the phone. “They’re
calling again.”
She laid the now silent phone on his desk.
He looked up at her, his brows furrowed with
what appeared to be confusion. “Sit down,” he
said firmly, motioning toward the wooden chairs
in front of his desk.
She sat, trembling with fear and anxiety.
“Miss McDonald, are you okay?” His tone and
his gaze had softened. “You seem to be
coming apart at the seams.”
He was right. That was a good way of summing
it up. She was unraveling. “No, I’m not okay. I’
m scared to death. What do I do? Do I
answer? Do I change my number?”
“You calm down and you relax, okay.” He
picked up the phone. “No voice mail. Let’s call
the number from my cell phone. It will come up
as a private call on the ID. I’ll see who answers.”
“Thank you, sheriff.” She leaned back into the
chair and sighed.
“Call me Clint,” he said as he punched in the
numbers on his cell. “Hello, who am I speaking
with? Oh, I’m so sorry. I’ve dialed the wrong
number. Thank you. Have a nice day.”
Clint closed his phone and put it back into the
holster on his hip. He looked up at Beth and
cleared his throat. “If you weren’t working for
the D.A., I’d swear you were crazy.”
Beth stepped out of the building into blinding
sunlight. She reached for her sunglasses in
her briefcase and felt the vibrations from her
cell phone buzzing inside her jacket pocket.
She jerked it out. Before flipping the phone
open, she glanced at the caller ID. Nausea
gripped her stomach. She turned and ran back
into the sheriff’s office.
Without waiting for his secretary to
acknowledge her, she flew through the sheriff’s
door and handed him the phone. “They’re
calling again.”
She laid the now silent phone on his desk.
He looked up at her, his brows furrowed with
what appeared to be confusion. “Sit down,” he
said firmly, motioning toward the wooden chairs
in front of his desk.
She sat, trembling with fear and anxiety.
“Miss McDonald, are you okay?” His tone and
his gaze had softened. “You seem to be
coming apart at the seams.”
He was right. That was a good way of summing
it up. She was unraveling. “No, I’m not okay. I’
m scared to death. What do I do? Do I
answer? Do I change my number?”
“You calm down and you relax, okay.” He
picked up the phone. “No voice mail. Let’s call
the number from my cell phone. It will come up
as a private call on the ID. I’ll see who answers.”
“Thank you, sheriff.” She leaned back into the
chair and sighed.
“Call me Clint,” he said as he punched in the
numbers on his cell. “Hello, who am I speaking
with? Oh, I’m so sorry. I’ve dialed the wrong
number. Thank you. Have a nice day.”
Clint closed his phone and put it back into the
holster on his hip. He looked up at Beth and
cleared his throat. “If you weren’t working for
the D.A., I’d swear you were crazy.”
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