Page 34 of Tracking Safety

Someone had quietly come into the church, moved to the back of the sanctuary, and slipped out before he could reach them.

The question that had been sitting at the edges of his mind since the shot on Main Street that morning pressed in again.

Was this about Jenna?

Roderick was dead. The threat that had driven her away was supposed to be gone. So who had taken that shot, and who had just been standing in the back of this church listening to her tell him things she’d kept hidden for years?

Or was this about him?

The Hardings had been after them for months, and the legal threats kept coming. The Hendersons were angrier and less careful, and Travis Henderson had never needed much of a reason to escalate.

Luke didn’t have an answer.

He walked back through the vestibule, pushed open the sanctuary door, and stopped.

The pew where he’d left Jenna was empty.

He studied the length of the sanctuary—the rows of empty pews, the candle still burning at the front, the colorful light falling through the stained glass onto nothing.

Jenna was gone.

Had she been taken? Or had she run . . . again?

Jenna had heard the footstep, and instinct had taken over.

She’d dropped down low between the pews.

Her heart slammed against her ribs as she forced herself to breathe through her nose.

Someone else was in this church.

Someone who knew where she was.

She thought about the sedan she’d noticed yesterday. She remembered this morning’s gunfire. The flat tire at the hardware store.

She’d convinced herself that the threat against her was gone, and she was safe to come back. She’d told herself that so many times in the past month that she’d almost believed it.

Maybe she’d been wrong. Maybe the threat would never really be over—not while Roderick still had colleagues out there. What if the marshals were wrong and the crime syndicate hadn’t fallen apart?

A door opened.

Footsteps crossed the vestibule.

Nausea rose in her.

She pressed herself flatter against the pew.

Whoever it was, they’d find her soon.

And what would they do when they did?

Would they shoot her right here in the church?

Her heart pounded harder in her ears.

The footsteps slowed.

Then she heard, “Jenna?”