She was staring at the wall behind him, her shoulders slightly rounded, her jaw clenched. Her chin quivered as a single tear squeezed past her defenses and rolled down her cheek.
Clint didn’t ask for permission or worry that he was crossing a line. He simply tossed her phone onto the nearby couch and stepped forward to wrap his arms around her.
She leaned into his chest and buried her face in his shirt. If it weren’t for the gentle shake of her shoulders and the occasional sniff, he wouldn’t even know she was crying.
At first, he said nothing. All the platitudes in theworld wouldn’t help ease the overwhelming stress and worry she had to be feeling right now.
It was only after her tears had subsided that he finally uttered the prayer in his heart.
“Dear Heavenly Father, we lift Danny up to You. Please hold him in Your mighty hand. Help his body to combat this infection and to heal the way you designed it to. Guide the doctors and nurses caring for him. Give Danny and Becca a healthy dose of peace, and let them feel Your presence in all things. We thank You that Danny’s fellow firefighters were able to get him out in time, for the swift action of Curtis and the EMTs, and for a successful surgery that’s brought him to where he is now.”
Leslie wiped at the tears on her face and gave a gentle nod. “Yes, Lord,” she breathed.
Clint rested his cheek against the side of her head. “I also pray a hedge of protection around Leslie. Please keep her safe. Not just physically. Guard her heart and her mind against any doubts and fear. Help us figure out who’s doing these terrible things so we can work together to bring justice for Danny and make sure no one else gets hurt. We are so thankful for Your many blessings, Father. Amen.”
“Amen.” Leslie slipped her arms around his waist and gave him a fierce hug.
He breathed in the subtle scent of her hair that reminded him of fresh flowers right after a spring rain.
She stepped away. Her eyes looked tired, and her cheeks were pink. Whether it was from crying or their hug, he wasn’t sure. Most likely a combination.
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“Letting me fall apart like that. For not allowing me to do it alone.”
“I just witnessed an amazingly strong woman completely shake off the past two days of stress and emerge even more resilient than ever.” He reached out and lightly touched her cheek with his thumb. “You’ve got this.”
“No.We’vegot this.”
Something passed between them. It was fleeting and fragile and new, but it was there, and Clint prayed they’d get a chance to explore the possibilities together.
Leslie pressed her hands to her cheeks and gave a nervous laugh. “I’m going to go clean up. I feel like a mess.”
“Take your time. I’ll be here.”
With a nod and a small smile, she turned and left the room.
Clint checked his watch. It was nearly four o’clock. As soon as he and Paris saw the melted fire truck in the driver’s seat of Leslie’s car, they knew things had escalated. Unlike breaking into the house and sending her a picture, torching a toy fire truck and attaching her name to it landed directly in the threat category. It still wasn’t clear why the suspect was targeting her, though.
Before Clint had a chance to say anything earlier, Paris had expressed concern about Leslie staying at the house alone. It only echoed his own worries.
When she got back from cleaning up, he planned to offer to sleep on her couch. At least then he could watch her back. If she didn’t agree, he’d stay in his car out front overnight.
He settled into the recliner and went through his e-mails and messages.
Twenty minutes later, Leslie walked back into the living room. Her hair, which she’d braided, was still wet and dripping a little onto the back of her shirt. She’d changedinto an oversized long-sleeved shirt and a pair of lounge pants.
The biggest difference, however, was that she seemed more herself again. Her back was straight, her arms relaxed. Even though she had to be exhausted, she looked like she was ready to dive right back into the case. He greatly admired that about her.
Clint got to his feet and waited until she’d taken a seat on the couch before joining her.
“Thank you for waiting. Just the thought of showering while I was alone in the house gave me flashbacks of every horror movie and bathroom murder scene that I’ve ever seen.” She shuddered.
He laughed. “Seriously, it wasn’t a problem.”
“Thanks for what you said earlier, too. I hate being that stereotypical woman who starts crying when things get rough.”
