Shadow in Serenity
But that was a fantasy for another day. Today only one car would go up like that.
The Avenger strode around the corner to a street where smaller houses lined the road. Though they weren’t as expensive and extravagant as those on the Boulevard, these were still out of his mother’s reach. Destined to live in a rotting rat hole, she papered her moldy bathroom with pictures from Southern Living and inflicted her discontent on her husband and son. These weren’t mansions, but they were big and new. No mold grew on the attic walls. No cracks ripped the sheetrock in the living rooms. No paint peeled. No warped floors. No sounds of rats scratching through the walls. The people who lived here probably weren’t business owners. They were the goons who worked for them, but they were still snotty and superior.
Steam fogged the air in front of the Avenger’s face with every breath as he approached the Covington house. One lamp shone in a room on the side of the house. Out of sight, he’d followed twenty-year-old Emily home awhile ago. Now she probably lay tucked into her bed with some feather comforter that cost a mint, smug about her sobriety. Oblivious.
Like always, she hadn’t pulled her car into the garage where her mother’s car sat. Hers sat on the driveway.
The Avenger set his package down beside her car.
Right here, under the wheel well … that was the best place. He took the jar half-filled with gasoline and the roll of duct tape from his backpack and ripped off enough to tape the bottle under the car, careful not to cover the lamp cord coming from the hole he’d punched in the jar’s lid. The gloves on his hands made it difficult work, but he didn’t give up. When he’d gotten the bottle in place, he checked to make sure it wasn’t leaking. The small amount of gasoline seemed stable. The bottle was angled so it wouldn’t leak.
Now if he could just find the right place to connect the other end. He pulled the lamp cord out from under the front of the car, then quietly opened the hood. It made a clicking sound. He froze, looking from left to right. No one stirred at this hour. He shone his small flashlight on the place where he needed to connect it, the spot in the wiring that would ignite his bomb.
The Avenger chuckled to himself as he closed the hood as quietly as possible, pressing down until it engaged. He checked to make sure the cord coming from under the car into the motor wasn’t noticeable. If someone knew to look for it, it might be. But he doubted she would see it walking out to her car.
If this worked the way it was supposed to, the bomb would explode when Emily started the car. She would probably escape, but she might be wounded or burned. And she and her family would be terrorized. He’d make them homeless by making them fear their home, and that would just be the beginning.
He chuckled as he gathered up his equipment. Then he dropped his gloves into his bag and walked slowly back up the street to where he’d left his car. He reveled in the sense of power his actions had given him. He would never be powerless again.
Too bad he hadn’t had an audience tonight. That would have made it so much sweeter. But manipulating victims like chess pieces was almost as good.
It was cold, but the thrill warmed him. He thought about the stash he’d left in his glove compartment, his reward for carrying out his plan. He’d wait until he got home, in the privacy of his basement, and when he was high, he’d go back and carry out the rest of his plan. And what a genius plan it was.
Headlights turned onto the street, illuminating him like a stage star. He pulled up his hood and looked down at the street as the car slowly passed. As soon as darkness enveloped him again, he broke into a trot back to his car.
There was still so much to do. He had to go take care of Devon, put a gun to her head, watch her bleed. He’d planned it for weeks, waited for the right mixture of courage and cockiness. He’d found it tonight. Freedom had been birthed inside him with one act of will. Now he could set everything right. He’d continue exacting revenge on all those who’d messed with him. So much fallout. So many consequences.
He was the great Avenger.
two
Emily Covington had managed to slip into the house and down the hall to her bedroom without waking her mother, a major feat since her mom slept so lightly when Emily was out. Emily hadn’t meant to stay out so late tonight without calling, but one thing had led to another, and she’d wound up coming in at 2:00 a.m., tiptoeing back in like a high school kid who’d broken curfew.
Now she had to cram for her test before she could go to bed. Why had she waited until the last minute?
“Emily? You’re home?”
She turned to see her mother standing in her bedroom doorway, her hair tangled and disheveled from bed. “Hey, I didn’t want to wake you up.”
“Did you just come in?”
“A little while ago. Sorry I didn’t call. I went to the show choir concert at school, and afterward some of us went to a movie. Then we hung out for a while in Ree’s dorm room.”
“Emily, it’s three o’clock, and you have school tomorrow.”
“I know. It’ll be fine.”
“Don’t you have a test?”
“Yeah, but it’s okay. Just go back to sleep.”
Her mother was silent for a moment. “Okay. Come give me a kiss.”
It was a ruse, Emily thought. Her mother’s way of smelling her breath and her hair, to see if she’d been drinking or smoking dope. Emily went to her, kissed her mother’s cheek and gave her a hug. “Get a good whiff,” she said with a smile. “All you’ll smell is popcorn and coffee.”
Her mother let her go and stared into her eyes, as if checking her pupils for normalcy. “All right, but you’re going to put me in an early grave with these long nights.”
“Mom, if I lived on campus you wouldn’t even know when I came in.”
“Well, you don’t live on campus. You live here, and I worry. Go to bed soon, okay?”
“Okay.” Emily went back to her bed where her books lay spread out, wishing she hadn’t made her mother lose sleep, tonight of all nights. Her mom had a big presentation tomorrow at work, and she wanted her to do well. Her mother had been elated to have this job in Atlanta, after they’d struggled so much in Jefferson City. Emily hoped her actions tonight hadn’t messed her up.
She resolved to try to do better next time. The least she could do was call to let her know not to worry. But after all she’d put her mother through, worry had become a way of life. Staying out until two would only exacerbate old memories — and old fears.
But one day Emily would prove to her mom that her life of addiction was behind her. Then maybe she could start sleeping better at night.
three
Milly Prentiss heard the knock on her back door as she waited for her coffee pot to fill. Pulling her robe tighter around her, she stepped to the door and looked through its window onto the rotting back porch. The sun was just coming up, painting the small dirt-patched lawn a lighter shade of gray. She saw no one.
She heard the knock again. Looking lower, she saw the top of a tiny blonde head.
Milly threw the door open. Her next door neighbor’s four-year-old stood in front of her, barefoot and wearing a long gown. There was blood on her sleeves, and the little girl was pale as porcelain.
Milly dropped to her knees. “Allie, honey, what’s wrong?”
“Mommy won’t wake up.”
Milly took the girl’s hands, saw the blood smears there. “What’s this on your hands?”
The child looked down at her hands blankly, as if she hadn’t noticed it before.
“Allie, what happened?”
“Mommy hurt herself in her bed. I shaked her but she wouldn’t come awake.”
“Where’s Carrie?”
Kent hoped they’d learn more from visiting the husband and gauging his reaction to his wife’s death.
“Do you think this person might come back?” she asked. “I live alone, and I’m nervous.”
“We don’t know, ma’am. But we’re going to do our best to find him.”
“
But how did the person get in? Do you think it was Bo?” she whispered.
Kent didn’t answer. “We’re looking at all the evidence, but we don’t have answers just yet.”
“What am I supposed to do with the kids? I need to clean Allie up, but I can’t get in there to get her clothes.”
“We’ll get something for her to wear and have someone come and take care of them until we can get a family member to pick them up.”
“No, that’s okay. They know me. I babysit them a lot. I’ll keep them until their daddy or grandma comes.” She burst into tears and covered her face. “This is so awful. Poor Devon!”
He resisted the urge to comfort her. Andy had already accused him of going soft since becoming a Christian. But he hoped someone would. When he and Andy stepped outside, he heard the teary-eyed woman lock her deadbolt.
A Note from the Author
From 1983 to 1995, I wrote romance novels and women’s fiction for publishers such as Harlequin, Silhouette, Dell, and HarperCollins. As many of you know, I came under intense conviction at the end of that period, and decided to leave that career to write for the Christian market. I believed that God had given me a unique gift as a storyteller, and that I hadn’t been using that gift as He intended. I started over with a Christian publisher, writing suspense instead of romance, and began using my real name — Terri Blackstock. I literally had to start over from scratch building my readership, but it was worth it to me so my readers wouldn’t get confused about what I’d written when.
The last book I wrote for HarperCollins was the original version of this book, under a different name. Since my heart was already shifting toward Christian themes, I included those in that book, but some of them were edited out in an attempt to make it more “ecumenical.” The original also contained some scenes that weren’t completely appropriate for a Christian audience.
Despite my change of heart about what I was writing, this book has always had a special place in my heart. I was proud of this story and loved the characters as if they were my friends, and more than once I wished that my current readers could read and enjoy it.
When I was able to get the rights back, I had the opportunity to rewrite it. Technology had changed as much as my world view, so I did quite a bit of revising. When it came time to name it, my Facebook readers chose the title from several choices I gave them.
I really hope that you’ve been able to enjoy this story of redemption. Even as I rewrote it, I feared that some of my readers might feel that I was glorifying crime. I hope that’s not the case. Instead, what I wanted to do was glorify Christ and his power to wipe the slate clean. The Bible tells us in Romans 5:8, “But God demonstrates His own love for us, in that while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us.” His crucifixion paid the debt for our sins, and allowed us to start over new, as clean and pure as newborn babes. I hope you’ll agree that Logan Brisco’s journey illustrates that.
Thanks for reading my books and passing them on to your friends. That’s why my readership has grown since my first Christian novel came out in 1995. I value you more than you can ever know.
“For this reason I bow my knees to the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, from whom every family in heaven and earth is named, that He would grant you, according to the riches of His glory, to be strengthened with might through His Spirit in the inner man, that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith; that you, being rooted and grounded in love, may be able to comprehend with all the saints what is the width and length and depth and height — to know the love of Christ which passes knowledge; that you may be filled with all the fullness of God” (Ephesians 3:14 – 19 NKJV).
Discussion Questions
1. If someone like Carny Sullivan or Logan Brisco came to your church, would you reject them or disciple them? Gossip about them or love them? What difference could your approach make in their lives?
2. If you sensed someone was conning people you loved, how would you react? What is that fine line between loving the lost and holding people accountable?
3. Have you ever known someone who you thought was unredeemable, then they were redeemed? Share that story.
4. Although you knew all along that Logan Brisco was a fraud, were there times when you were willing to forgive him and root for his relationship with Carny? Why or why not?
5. What does true change look like? Discuss the signs and evidence that someone has truly repented.
6. Should the town have forgiven Logan for his past and continued with the plan to invest in the park?
7. What positive effect did Logan have on Jason? What impact did Jason have on Logan?
8. How does God use the “baggage” of our past for the purposes he has for us today?
9. Have you ever been to or lived in a town like Serenity, Texas? Do such communities exist? What makes them so attractive? Is there anything you can do to make your community more like Serenity?
Acknowledgments
Many years ago I published a version of this book in the general market under another title and with a pseudonym. (You can read more about that in my “Note From the Author” at the end of this book.) It was my last book to be published before I changed to the Christian market, where I could write books that impacted lives in an eternal way. When I submitted proposals for my first suspense novels to Zondervan back in 1994, Dave Lambert was the editor who offered me a four-book contract. He has since edited almost all of my books. And when I decided to rewrite and update this one, he edited it too.
Another person who’s been in my life since I left the general market is Sue Brower at Zondervan, who used to market my books and currently serves as Acquisitions Editor. She’s the one who decides which of my ideas will make it to print.
Both of these people have been constant encouragers, teachers, and friends over the years. I should thank them in every book, but especially this one, since this book marks a full-circle moment in my career.
Thanks from the bottom of my heart, Dave and Sue. I couldn’t have done any of what I do without your support and guidance.
About the Author
TERRI BLACKSTOCK (www.terriblackstock.com) has sold six million books worldwide and is a New York Times bestseller. She is the award-winning author of Intervention, Vicious Cycle, and Predator, as well as such series as Cape Refuge, Newpointe 911, the Sun Coast Chronicles, and the Restoration Series.
Visit www.AuthorTracker.com for exclusive information on your favorite HarperCollins author.
Books by Terri Blackstock
Shadow in Serenity
Predator
Double Minds
Soul Restoration
Emerald Windows
Intervention Series
1 | Intervention
2 | Vicious Cycle
A Restoration Novel Series
1 | Last Light
2 | Night Light
3 | True Light
4 | Dawn’s Light
Cape Refuge Series
1 | Cape Refuge
2 | Southern Storm
3 | River’s Edge
4 | Breaker’s Reef
Newpointe 911
1 | Private Justice
2 | Shadow of Doubt
3 | Word of Honor
4 | Trial by Fire
5 | Line of Duty
Sun Coast Chronicles
1 | Evidence of Mercy
2 | Justifiable Means
3 | Ulterior Motives
4 | Presumption of Guilt
Second Chances
1 | Never Again Good-bye
2 | When Dreams Cross
3 | Blind Trust
4 | Broken Wings
With Beverly LaHaye
1 | Seasons Under Heaven
2 | Showers in Season
3 | Times and Seasons
4 | Season of Blessing
Novellas
Seaside
Other Books
Miracles (The Listener/The Gifted)
The Listener
&nbs
p; The Gifted
The Heart Reader of Franklin High
The Gifted Sophomores
Covenant Child
Sweet Delights
ZONDERVAN
Shadow in Serenity
Copyright © 2011 by Terri Blackstock
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of Zondervan.
EPub Edition © AUGUST 2011 ISBN: 978-0-310-33234-3
Requests for information should be addressed to:
Zondervan, Grand Rapids, Michigan 49530
* * *
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Blackstock, Terri, 1957-
Shadow in Serenity / Terri Blackstock.
p. cm.
ISBN 978-0-310-33231-2 (softcover)
1. Strangers—Fiction. 2. Texas—Fiction. 3. Christian fiction. I. Title.
PS3552.L34285S46 2011
813’.54—dc22
2011022874
* * *
Published in association with the literary agency of Alive Communications, Inc., 7680 Goddard Street, Suite 200, Colorado Springs, CO 80920.