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

“Colt, you’re a human being. You have to sleep. Do not blame yourself.”

“We’ve cleaned the wounds, but you need to see a doctor,” the EMT interrupted.

“I don’t want to see a doctor.”

The paramedic frowned. “You want it to get infected and end up in the hospital for days instead? Okay. Sounds good to me.” Her sarcasm landed with a one-two punch. Colt’s lips turned south.

“Fine.”

She looked at Georgia. “Both of you to the hospital.”

“I’m—”

“Happy to go,” Colt offered. “Fair is fair, Georgia Jane.”

“Fine.”

At the hospital she was treated for a few minor abrasions and to make sure her oxygen levels stayed normal before they released her. Colt entered her curtained room on a crutch. His face was still sooty and streaked. Ash littered his hair, and he reeked of smoke. She no doubt mirrored his appearance and scent.

“Well, aren’t we a pair for sore eyes,” she said.

“My eyes are sore. And I lost a contact, so I can only see clearly out of my left eye. I feel like Popeye, but closing my right is the only way I can actually see anything.”

She laughed as he hobbled to the hospital bed and perched beside her, leaning his crutches against the wall.

“At least I always keep a spare pair of contacts in my travel bag. Which happens to be in my truck and not your house. Bright side.”

They were alive. Bright side. For now. “I hate that the pain you’re experiencing is all because of my big mouth.”

With one eye in a consistent wink, he grinned. “While I agree you have a big mouth, this is going down because someone killed Jared Toledo.” He ran his fingers through her gritty hair. “I don’t know if I’ve ever been more terrified. I wasn’t sure I was going to be able to get you out.”

“I was afraid you wouldn’t be able to get you out.”

“Don’t worry about me. This is what I signed up for. I’m happy you’re safe.”

His job.

Safe for now. But no home. She breathed deep. In and out. The worst that could happen is she would live with Susan or Amber awhile or in the back room at the newspaper. She could live with that. Except until the danger passed, she couldn’t afford to risk their lives.

“We have to talk about what to do next, Georgia.”

“I know.” He was going to put her in the motel like he originally wanted.

“First off, you need to bunk with Mae and Poppy at the Magnolia Motel.” A dozen years hadn’t spared her from knowing him so well.

“They can protect you. Right now, we need to see the Wilcox family. If Jared took the SD card out of his camera, then it might be in his old belongings. If not, then where is it? Did someone else know about it and take it? That brings me to Alice Parker. She might have had motive and she had access to the car while Jared and Chance were inside Rascal’s.”

Georgia agreed—it was better to work on the case than worry herself sick over Colt. But she couldn’t control it. Worry was the name of the game at the moment—and the loser lost their life.

Colt’s ankle throbbed and burned as they made their way to Gerald and Karen Wilcox’s house. They’d called about an hour ago and asked Amber to be present as well. He inwardly winced at the discomfort, but the upside was his shoulder didn’t hurt as much now that the pain was concentrated to his leg. The doc had offered him the good stuff, but he needed all his faculties and had declined it for prescription-strength ibuprofen.

An hour ago, he’d picked it up along with the prescribed antibiotic cream and bandages. The nurse had showed him how to treat the wounds and insisted he keep them clean and freshly wrapped, which he would, but it irritated him. He didn’t have time to stop and keep wounds cleaned when a killer was on the loose.

The hours ticked by, making for a long, exhausting day. Reports, interviews about the fire had ensued. A deputy had discovered a plastic gasoline can at the edge of the tree line, and they’d sent it off for prints. No one had been found in the woods, and no other traces of evidence had been obtained.

By nine they’d settled in at the Sunflower Café for breakfast. News had traveled fast, and patrons came in droves to the table, bringing condolences and offers to help keep Georgia safe, as if Colt and his team weren’t enough. Maybe he wasn’t.

His old man would be the first to say it. Georgia’s words about forgiveness being a thing had been quietly rolling around in his chest. Had he forgiven Dad? No. Did he deserve it? No. Talk had made its way through the town and folks were searching out Georgia, but Dad hadn’t been among them. Hadn’t called to check on him. Nothing. He didn’t seem to care if Colt lived or died, so why even offer him an out for his years of cruelty?

The answer puddled in his gut. Because forgiveness wasn’t for the offender. It was for the offended.

With God’s help he could do anything. All things were possible. But did he want to forgive Dad? Not particularly. Even when he knew deep down it would lift a huge weight from his shoulders. His head battled his heart, reminding him of all the trauma inflicted—the hurtful words and the knocks to the head. They played on repeat, calling out all Colt’s failures and defeats.

If he forgave him, Colt might not be controlled by his father’s words anymore. That was not the voice he wanted in his head, but it was always there. Taunting. He wanted his heavenly Father’s voice. What God thought about him mattered most.

But did God think he was doing a good job?

Shaking out of the battle, he tried to ignore the excruciating burn in his leg. As they