Nightwatch. Valerie Hansen

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Nightwatch - Valerie  Hansen Mills & Boon Love Inspired Suspense

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town.

      Without a husband, Jill had wondered if she could make it in such rural surroundings. Yet whenever she’d had a need, there had always been someone ready to offer help. Usually Mitch Andrews, she added, although many other members of Serenity Chapel had also pitched in.

      As she paused in front of her closet and reached for a favorite, jacketed blue dress, she closed her eyes for a moment and whispered, “Thank You, Jesus,” meaning every word from the deepest reaches of her heart. Her life might be nothing like she had imagined, but it was good.

      Mitch’s hands tightly gripped his truck’s steering wheel as he drove. It wasn’t Natalie’s everyday reputation that worried him most, it was her erratic behavior at the fire scene. The woman had acted as if she could barely take care of herself, let alone look after three small children. The boys might be all right if she let them fend for themselves, but little Megan was far from self-sufficient.

      He skidded to a dusty stop in front of Jill’s white-painted farmhouse. She ran off the porch and climbed in the passenger side of his pickup before he had a chance to get out and open the door for her. Her blue eyes sparkled, her hair shimmered like gold and her face glowed as if she were embarking on an exciting adventure instead of preparing to enter a figurative lion’s den.

      “Thanks for coming with me,” he said.

      “Thanks for letting me. I worried about those kids all night.”

      “Yeah, me, too.” Mitch drove off, staring at the road ahead as he delivered the bad news. “It’s official. They found Rob and Ellen in the office.”

      “I’m so, so sorry.”

      When Jill reached across and briefly laid her hand over his, he tried not to flinch. “Thanks. They were special people.”

      “I never got to know them very well but I’m sure they were.” She smoothed the skirt of her dress, then folded her hands in her lap atop her clutch purse. “Is Brother Logan going to preach at their funeral?”

      “Probably. It may be weeks before the crime scene techs and the coroner are finished and the bodies are released. That’s another reason I was upset about Natalie getting the kids. There’s no telling what an unstable person like her will do or say when she first hears the bad news, not to mention when we finally lay Rob and Ellen to rest.”

      “I totally agree. We need a judge’s ruling about custody and we need it fast.”

      “How do we get that?”

      “Probably through Ms. Connors. She’ll request an immediate hearing and hopefully the court will also appoint a CASA volunteer to oversee the case.”

      “A what?”

      “CASA. It stands for Court Appointed Special Advocate. Those people are trained to investigate everything and then speak for children who have been abused or neglected or who may be in danger. It can’t be anybody like you or me who knows the family. It can’t be a lawyer either. Or the police. This person has to be completely impartial. That’s the beauty of the system.”

      Mitch doubted anyone could remain that unbiased, particularly when innocent children were involved. He knew he sure couldn’t. “If you say so. Have you had experience with CASA before?”

      “Yes,” Jill said. “There aren’t many volunteers out here in the boondocks but I do know of at least one. Samantha Rochard. She’s a nurse at the county hospital.”

      “You trust her?”

      “Completely.”

      Once again, Jill patted the back of his hand. Mitch managed a smile for her benefit. “Okay. If you vouch for her, that’s good enough for me.” His smile waned. “Hold it. What if she was one of the nurses who helped treat the kids last night?”

      “I doubt that small connection would disqualify her,” Jill said. “As a matter of fact, she’s required to check with doctors and anyone else who may have had contact with the children before and after the fire, then make a written report to the judge.”

      “Meaning she’ll realize how nuts Natalie is?”

      “Let’s pray that’s the case.”

      “I think I’d better leave the praying to you,” Mitch said. “Judging by what happened last night, the Lord isn’t listening to me.”

      “I know exactly what you mean,” Jill replied, surprising him with her candor. “After Eric died, it was a long time before I could really pray again. I just kept asking why.”

      Mitch was about to apologize for not being able to save her injured husband’s life when Jill added, “I imagine God was pretty sick of hearing me whimpering. It took me ages to realize I probably already had all the answers I was going to get.”

      He didn’t know what to say. He shared her Christian faith, yet his own prayer life was nowhere near that satisfying. If he’d had more time to mull over her conclusion he might have commented. However, since they were pulling into the hospital’s parking lot, he took that as a strong sign to keep his mouth shut.

      He huffed quietly at that conclusion. Maybe—just maybe—he was getting more answers to his prayers than he’d thought, too.

      * * *

      Jill greeted middle-aged, graying Brenda Connors with a handshake and a smile, then introduced her to Mitch, purposely positioning herself to act as their go-between. It wasn’t a comfortable place to be. Mitch was fighting to control his temper, which was totally understandable considering how close he was to the Pearson family. Jill simply wanted to keep the social worker on their side, at least until a trusted, sensible CASA member could be appointed.

      “How soon before we can get a judge involved?” Jill asked Ms. Connors.

      “I’ve already requested an emergency hearing. I’m picking up the children this afternoon. I’ve informed Ms. Stevens she had no right to take them the way she did.”

      “Why did the hospital staff let her?”

      “Basically, she bullied them. A few of them knew she was the aunt so they assumed she had permission. Believe me, that kind of thing will not happen again.”

      She turned to Mitch, her eyes narrowing behind bifocals trimmed in silver. “Is there definitive proof that the parents are both deceased?”

      “Yes.”

      “Anything else you can tell me that might help?”

      Jill interrupted. “Mr. Andrews was very close to the children and their parents. This is hard for him.”

      “I’m sorry,” the social worker said. “But I need to know everything.”

      “Ask me whatever you like,” he said flatly. “Those kids come first.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a cell phone. “Hang on a sec. I’ll check with my chief and see if the investigation has turned up anything new.”

      As Jill watched and listened, she saw his hazel eyes widen, then darken as he began to frown. Her gaze darted to Ms. Connors and she noticed that the other

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