Page 47 of The Deadly Shallows

Gabby smirked. “Fair enough.” Her face softened, and Brooke feared Gabby would ask her for details about what happened.

It wasn’t that Brooke didn’t want to confide in her friend. She just wasn’t even close to ready to talk about it more. She’d already gone over it twice—in general terms with Finn and in more detail when Caleb questioned her. Both had been kind and let her take her time, but it was too painful to breathe even a word of what happened again.

Gabby must have read her face because she didn’t ask a thing, just sprang up from the chair. “I almost forgot.” She strode back to the open duffel. “I also brought you some flannel jammies so you aren’t stuck in those scrubs, and I’ve got some fuzzy socks, slippers, and a robe. Oh, and a book of fill-in-the-blank famous lines from literature.”

“Thank you,” she said as Gabby handed her the book along with a set of colored pencils. “This is wonderful. It’ll help keep my . . .” Mind off of what happened. “Keep me occupied,” she said.

“Speaking of staying occupied, do you want to take a walk?” Gabby asked. “Maybe to the chapel, but only if you’re—”

Brooke didn’t even wait for Gabby to finish. She was out of bed and heading to the bathroom to change into the pjs, robe, and slippers.

A few moments later, she emerged feeling fresher and far more comfortable. She’d run a brush through her hair, rubbed lotion on her face, and smeared Chapstick on her lips.

Gabby smiled. “That definitely looks cozier.”

“It is,” Brooke said, thankful for her friend’s smile. She understood why, but everyone else’s faces had been fixed with concern. It was nice to see a happy face, even if she still felt broken inside.

She popped a Bit-O-Honey chew Gabby had brought in her mouth as they headed for the chapel. She hadn’t had one since she was a kid, didn’t even know they made them anymore, but apparently the hospital gift shop sold them, and she was delighted.

They rounded the hall. Recessed lighting illuminated the beautiful stained-glass windows in the upper half of the chapel’s mahogany doors. Scenes of Jesus with a lamb on one side and calming the storm at sea on the other. Peace and turmoil.

She was in turmoil, but she trusted Jesus could calm the tempest raging inside her as He’d calmed the storm at sea. She didn’t anticipate it being instant, but that’s what she needed—for Him to comfort her, to shelter her under His wings, to be her safety after the horrific experiences she’d endured—to be her peace in the midst of it all.

Gabby studied her. She always saw too much. Brooke blamed it on her reporter’s eye. She was singularly gifted for the job, but it meant there was no hiding anything from her. “You okay?” she asked. “We can head back, if you’d prefer.”

“Thanks, but I could really use some quiet time with God.” There always seemed to be personnel popping in her room checking her wounds, checking her vitals. She just needed silence and to sit at her Savior’s feet.

Gabby opened the arched doors leading into the chapel, and Brooke stepped in. It was empty, save them.

Small and old-world in style, the chapel boasted dark wood walls and three rows of pews. Plush carpet cushioned her steps as she made her way to the middle pew, studying the stained-glass windows donning the side walls. One of the Garden of Eden, one of the fall of man, one of Christ on the cross, and one of His transfiguration. It was the gospel summarized in four images.

Gabby slid in the pew beside her. “Would you like me to say a prayer,” Gabby asked, “or would you prefer silence?”

“I’d love a prayer. Where two or more are gathered,” she said.

Gabby clasped her hand, and as Brooke closed her eyes, suffocating sorrow draped back over her.

“Dear Lord,” Gabby began, “you know everything that has happened. We don’t understand, but your Word says, ‘Now I know in part; then I shall know fully.’ We long for that day, Lord. Please bring healing and comfort to all concerned.” Gabby paused, releasing a long exhale, her hand clasping Brooke’s loosely, and then continued, “I pray for everyone whose life was taken in the horrific tragedy today and all who loved them. I pray for peace for their families, and especially peace for Brooke. In Jesus’ name, I pray.”

“Amen,” Brooke whispered, leaving her eyes shut and head bowed. She sat in the silence, feeling the Lord with her and soaking up His presence.

TWENTY-FIVE

“Caleb, let’s shift gears back to the shooting and to your conversation this morning with Greer,” Noah said, glancing at the analog clock ticking on the wall. It was going to be a long case board, but there was much to cover.

“With Brooke’s abduction, our initial conversation with Greer wasn’t long, but I met with him this afternoon to gather the details.” Caleb moved for the whiteboard. “He emphasized how highly confidential this information is.” He looked to the door, and Noah followed his gaze. It was shut. “And that what he told us must stay within the confines of our team and our investigation.”

“Of course,” Noah said, looking across the space at his team as they all nodded. He trusted each of them, knew he never need worry about leaked information.

“The Coast Guard’s RAD unit has been working with a specialized branch of the Army’s RAD on a laser weapon.”

Noah’s jaw clenched. Laser weapon?

“The program, named Strike First, began at the Army’s RAD facility in Duck, North Carolina,” Caleb continued. “They invited the Coast Guard’s top scientists and ordnance specialists to collaborate with them at their facility but recently moved the project to our base.”

“Why was it moved?” Mason asked.

“They believed they had a mole in their midst. Certain information went missing—plans for the early part of the weapon’s development. When they moved the project here, they pared down to only the top-tier personnel they were confident were loyal.”