Out of Time. Shirlee McCoy
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“Suzy?”
Levi pushed back his Stetson and leaned close, looking straight into her eyes, his gaze compelling and demanding. Unyielding in a way she hadn’t remembered.
And it was enough to pull her away from the edge, out of the panic.
“I’m fine.”
He looked unconvinced, his brow furrowed, a five o’clock shadow giving him a tough edge that hadn’t been there when they were kids. “Suzy—”
“Let’s call it a day and say good-night.”
Levi was still standing under the streetlight as she pulled out of the parking lot. The rose was on the ground beside him, a dark line on the pavement.
She hated roses.
She turned on the radio. Tomorrow would be another long day, and she needed to be ready for it.
Prayed she’d be ready for it.
TEXAS RANGER JUSTICE:
Keeping the Lone Star State safe
Out of Time—Shirlee McCoy, June 2011
SHIRLEE MCCOY
has always loved making up stories. As a child, she daydreamed elaborate tales in which she was the heroine—gutsy, strong and invincible. Though she soon grew out of her superhero fantasies, her love for storytelling never diminished. She knew early that she wanted to write inspirational fiction, and she began writing her first novel when she was a teenager. Still, it wasn’t until her third son was born that she truly began pursuing her dream of being published. Three years later she sold her first book. Now a busy mother of five, Shirlee is a homeschool mom by day and an inspirational author by night. She and her husband and children live in Washington and share their house with a dog, two cats and a bird. You can visit her website at www.shirleemccoy.com, or email her at [email protected].
Out of Time
Shirlee McCoy
MILLS & BOON
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Therefore do not go on passing judgment before
the time, but wait until the Lord comes who will
both bring to light the things hidden in the darkness
and disclose the motives of men’s hearts; and then
each man’s praise will come to him from God.
—1 Corinthians 4:5
Sarah Rodgers. Keep working toward your goal,
and eventually you’ll reach it!
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
EPILOGUE
LETTER TO READER
QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION
ONE
Silence told its own story, and Alamo Ranger Susannah Jorgenson listened as she hurried across the bridge that led to the chapel. Darkness had fallen hours ago and the air held a hint of rain. The shadows seemed deeper than usual, the darkness just a little blacker. Or maybe it was simply her imagination that made the Alamo complex seem so forbidding.
Imagination and too many sleepless nights.
Six months since Aaron Simons had attacked her, five months since he was killed in a police standoff just outside of San Antonio, and Susannah was still jumping at shadows. People were starting to notice. Her fellow park rangers were beginning to talk. Her life, the one she’d planned so carefully, the one she’d wanted ever since she was a kid, was slowly unraveling, and she felt helpless to stop it.
She shivered. Not from the cold. Not from the chilly breeze. From the darkness, the silence, the endless echo of her fear as she made her final rounds. She’d never known terror before Aaron. Now, it was her closest friend. Not something she was proud of, but something she acknowledged as she jogged to the chapel and flashed the beam of her light along the corners of the building.
Nothing.
No movement, no sounds, no reason to think she wasn’t alone, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was being watched. That somewhere beyond the beam of her light, danger waited.
Her cell phone rang as she walked into the building, and she jumped, her heart pounding, her pulse racing. Everything out of proportion to the moment. That seemed to be the story of her life lately.
“Hello?” Her voice bounced off the stone walls of the chapel, and something skittered in a dark corner to her right. She turned, her flashlight revealing nothing but tile floor and emptiness.
“Susannah? It’s Chad Morran.”
“What’s up?”
“Just got a call from Captain Ben Fritz with the Texas Rangers.”
“Let me guess. He wanted to know about our security plans for the 175th anniversary of the Battle of the Alamo celebration.” A soft sound carried through the cavernous room. Rustling papers? Fabric brushing against stone? Susannah cocked her head, listening, but heard nothing but her rapid heartbeat.
“Partially. He also wanted to let me know he’s sending a man out to the compound. They want to do a security sweep. See where our areas of weakness are.”
“They’re assuming we have them.”
“Aside from Fort Knox, I doubt there’s a place that doesn’t. With the 175th anniversary of the Battle of the Alamo coming up, we can’t afford to be too careful. The opening ceremony has to go off without a hitch.”
“I know.” There were more than a few high-level politicians scheduled to speak at a ceremony that would be hosted by the Alamo Planning Committee, and protecting them was the first priority of the Alamo Rangers.
“So you