Love Inspired Suspense April 2021--Box Set 2 of 2 by Laura Scott (free e reader .TXT) 📕

been killed in a three-car accident on the interstate. She’d talked about them often but never about anxiety.

“Started out not wanting to get in a car or wanting people I love to get in one. But I was twelve, so what I wanted didn’t happen. It escalated to other worries. Worry about the world in general. I hated when Grandma watched the news at night. I never slept well after hearing it.”

He’d always thought her freak-outs over him were ridiculous. It had caused a few fights, especially about him playing football or going out with the guys. Hindsight was twenty-twenty. How was a seventeen-year-old boy supposed to know his girlfriend wasn’t being unreasonable and uptight but dealing with some serious problems? “I’m really sorry for being so jerky about stuff.” No wonder she dumped him. He’d been insensitive and told her she was always overreacting and to lighten up. He’d have cut himself loose, too.

“You didn’t know. And back then I didn’t, either. But now I do, and I know my triggers so I can avoid things that set it off for the most part—some things I have to fight through, like driving a car and going out in the world to shop or do my job, and I have daily medication that helps me.”

“Good. That’s good, Georgia.”

He wasn’t sure what her triggers were, but he’d try not to set one off. Though a killer coming after her would be anyone’s trigger, and he wasn’t sure how to stop that other than finding Jared’s killer as quickly as possible.

“Well, even with a panic attack out there, you did real good, Georgia. You were brave and handled the situation as well as anyone could.” He laid a hand on her shoulder to offer physical support. How else could he comfort her and make her feel sound?

The dogs barked and bolted for the front door. A delivery truck approached, and Colt cautiously moved to the door. Anyone was a suspect in his book. The young guy bounded out with two large boxes and dropped them on the porch and waved. He returned to his truck and left.

“Are deliveries normal?” he asked.

“Definitely. I order most everything online.” Her cheeks flushed. “Convenience and all.”

And it helped her avoid a trigger of being vulnerable out in the world, where she couldn’t control the environment. He didn’t bother calling her on it. It clearly embarrassed her enough.

“And it helps me. But my therapist—Celeste—says I need to keep going out. If it becomes too easy to stay inside, I could quickly slip into agoraphobia. So I get out. And I ask a few questions that help me control my thoughts. That’s really where the fight is. My mind.”

“Questions like?”

“Like ‘What evidence do you have to support this thought?’ and ‘What is the worst that can happen?’ when I’m afraid or panicky about a situation. Then after I come up with all the things that could happen, I ask, ‘Can I live with that?’ and about ninety-nine percent of the time, I can.”

“Sounds easy enough. I ask the same question working a case. ‘What evidence do I have to support this idea or theory?’”

Georgia laughed humorlessly. “It’s not easy enough. It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done, and I fail often. I don’t experience life like a lot of other people. And that can lead to severe melancholy and even jealousy and discontentment. It’s a big fat snowball, but it’s not crisp and clean. No, it’s more like a hot and heavy ball of tar gathering up all the emotions and sticking them to me until I suffocate.” She blinked and gave an apologetic and embarrassed smile. “Sorry. Sometimes it’s so frustrating.”

“Don’t be sorry. I didn’t mean to be flippant about it.” Georgia seemed fine on the outside. He’d have never known what was rolling around suffocating her on the inside, and he couldn’t imagine what it felt like.

Scared to offer any comforting words, since he’d fumbled so many of the others like a pigskin on the way to the end zone with ten seconds on the clock for the win, he remained quiet, letting the room fill with awkward silence.

Saved by the sound of tires on gravel—the team arrived from the station with the case files. Spreading out at the station would have been more convenient, but right now it wasn’t about their convenience. Though being surrounded by an entire facility of officers would have made him feel protected, Georgia wanted to be here. Now. So that’s what they’d do.

Georgia offered everyone beverages and made them welcome.

Rhett thanked her and poured a cup of coffee. “What do we know about the grump with the gun on the porch?”

“Sunny Wilkerson?” Colt asked.

“He’s a die-hard Ole Magnolia fan and one of the boosters.” Georgia added cream to her tea.

“I know I’m from Mississippi and all,” Mae said, “and I had a brother who played football, but I avoided it at all costs so...define booster for me.”

Poppy spoke up. “I don’t know how you managed to grow up in the South and avoid football. Boosters are representatives of the institution’s athletic interests. They support teams and athletics departments through donating time and financial resources, which help student athletes on and off the playing field. In professional terms.”

“And in nonprofessional terms?” Mae asked.

“They’re fanatics! And the sort of people to bribe families, high school coaches and student athletes to play ball for their institution. Especially if they themselves are sinking heavy donations into the athletic department. They feel it’s their duty to get the best team players.” Poppy blew her bangs from her eyes and pointed to Mae. “But some just buy season tickets and tailgate at games with beer and crawfish, so I may have walked the plank with the fanatic thing.”

Rhett snorted. “May have? And it’s ‘gone overboard.’”

Poppy ignored him.

Mae frowned. “So, they’re informal recruiters for the college athletic department or even for the high school athletic department?”

“No.” Colt jumped in before Poppy went melodramatic again. “Only institutional staff