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The bath hadn’t worked. She’d been about to exercise. But maybe a talk with one of her friends would ease the strain.
“Hi, it’s David Marks.”
“Pastor!” Martha’s heart jumped, her throat tightening. The last time he’d called… Where were her kids?
“Don’t worry,” he said softly. “I don’t have bad news.”
The kids were all here. Except Shelley. And she was spending the night with Monica. Safe and sound.
Martha sank down onto the bed. He didn’t have bad news. Thank God. She stood up again. Then why was he calling?
“I’ve been struggling with a…situation…” He started out slowly. “Not sure what to do…”
“Oh?” She couldn’t think what he might be struggling with that had anything to do with her, but she had to be polite. She thought about lying down to do some leg lifts.
“It…has to do with you,” he said. “At least indirectly.”
“Oh?”
“I’ve prayed about it and now feel sure that I should go ahead with my original thought and approach you.”
If he planned to ask her out, he was going to be sadly disappointed. Even if God had ordained a date, she refused to go.
And…
“It’s about Ellen’s attack.”
Martha sank to the floor, her back against the side of the queen-size bed she’d once shared with her husband. “What about it?”
“I have some suspicions, an idea or two that I’m fairly certain warrant a follow-up.”
She sat forward. “You do? What? You’ve talked them over with Greg?”
“No, I haven’t.” The pastor’s hesitancy slowed her down. “That’s the thing,” he continued, sounding almost unsure of himself—which wasn’t something she’d ever noticed in him before. David Marks was the most self-possessed person she’d ever met. “These suspicions. I’d rather not tell Greg about them.”
Asking why not was the obvious reply. “Okay.”
“I just felt obligated to let you know that I’m doing a little checking on my own.”
“Okay.”
“And hope you’ll agree not to mention this conversation to anyone yet.”
At this point she’d agree to just about anything to get some answers. To catch the bastard and hang him by his… “I’ll agree on one condition.”
He paused, then asked, “What’s that?”
“That you let me help.” She was going crazy, looking over her shoulder every time she left the house, watching her children do the same. Worrying every second that they weren’t safe….
Worried about her friends. And the students at Montford.
Suspecting every man she saw who was a stranger to her. And some who weren’t.
“I can’t do that.”
She stared at the floor.
It was time to have her carpet cleaned. “Why not?”
