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She regarded his offered hand for a split second, then lay her slim, warm hand over his. Awareness swirled in him, catching him off guard. “Try not to worry. That’s my job now, okay?” He used the very words she had spoken to him when he’d been wheeled into the ER, drowning in his own blood.
“Okay.”
She’d clearly forgotten what she’d said to him, then. Her thoughts were too preoccupied with her sister’s welfare. After releasing her hand, he saved his document, then closed his iPad. “Let me get to work on this. I’ll notify you the instant I discover anything.”
“That would be great.” She dropped her boots to the floor and they both stood. “Can I feed you lunch in return for your kindness?”
He would have enjoyed sticking around, but her husband might not appreciate her entertaining an FBI guy while he was away at work, especially since a competitive spirit existed between state and federal law enforcement. “I appreciate the offer, but I have an urgent mission.” He started for the door. “I’ll see myself out.”
She followed right on his heels. “I’m going that way, too. I have to feed my kids lunch.”
“Yes, I just met them.” He pushed the door open for her.
“Oh? I hope they weren’t rude.”
They crossed through the quiet barn, watched by Otis as he munched on hay.
“Not at all.” Fitz wasn’t going to rat out her son, who was just being protective of his home and his sister. “How old are they?”
“Grayson is twelve, and Olivia is almost seven.”
“Ah.” His heart gave a pang as he pictured Rory and Rosy, his older two, who were thirteen and four at the time they’d been killed. Like him, Faith would soon welcome a third child. He envisioned Baby Collin’s gummy grin with a stab of loss.
As they stepped into the blinding sunshine, he shaded his eyes to take in her big, yellow farmhouse. “Have you always lived here?”
“Oh, no, but Grace and I grew up here. I just bought the place from my parents, who wanted something more manageable.”
From what he could tell, her parents hadn’t been able to manage the property for some time. Then it registered.“I bought the place,”she’d said,notwe.
Fitz’s heart skipped a beat. Had she divorced her husband? Not wanting to get into that now and sensing Grayson watching them from within the house, Fitz slowed his step and touched Faith’s arm. “I’ll be in contact.”
Her brown eyes softened. “I can’t thank you enough, Fitz. Please call me soon. You have my number?”
“Oh yes.”
A divorce would explain the weariness that hung over her like a shroud. Fitz was tempted to hug her, but that might put thoughts in her head. And he had no romantic notions whatsoever, not for a mother of nearly three.
“Bye.” He sent her a nod, then turned and walked to his car.
* * *
Watching Fitz slip into his silver Lexus, Faith caught herself thinking he moved just like an Irish boxer—with the name to match. She had only once seen him dressed in something other than a hospital gown, and that was the salmon-pink button-up covered in blood that he’d worn into the ER. Still, remembering that pink shirt, it didn’t surprise her that he should wear a light-green blazer over a white dress shirt, paired with a pink-and-green-striped tie. The colors suited his auburn hair and freckled complexion.
As he smiled at her through his driver’s window, a weight seemed to lift from her heavy heart, easing the anxiety that held it in a vise. How wise of God to bring him into her thoughts just when she needed him most. She and Fitz had bonded when he’d come into the hospital, only to lose touch after his discharge. If anyone could find Grace, she knew Fitz could.
But the instant he backed up and pulled away, her anxiety returned.
In her rush to give him all her sister’s information, Faith hadn’t told him she was widowed. Every morning she awoke to the panicky realization that her family’s welfare rested on her narrow shoulders. And, so far, God was giving her the strength to soldier on. But Jerry’s surprise legacy would be born in just eight weeks, and she had so much left to do before she could give their baby the attention he or she deserved.
Compounding all of that was this feeling that Grace’s very life was in danger.
Wiping perspiration from her brow, Faith turned and plodded to the farmhouse to feed her children, reciting as she walked the words that sustained her through this endless crisis.
“‘For I know the plans I have for you: plans to prosper you and not to harm you; plans to give you hope and a future.’” She was hanging on to Jeremiah 29:11 with every fiber of her being.
CHAPTER2
“It’s only Padre Tomás.”
