Prologue

Orange County, California, 1982

“Hey, look at that guy!” Kyle nudged Joe as they straddled their BMX Motocross bikes, waiting for the signal to change. Over his shoulder he saw Scott ride up behind them.

“What?”

“See how he’s walking between the cars, looking in the windows?” They watched while the guy glanced around the parking lot, lifted a car door handle, then moved on to try another.

The light changed. Kyle found his pedal without taking his eyes off the guy and pushed off, standing as he pumped his legs, until they reached 31 Flavors. “I think we should call the police.”

“Why?” Joe jumped off his bike. “We don’t know for sure he’s doing something bad.”

“I bet he’s trying to steal a car. We’re witnessing a crime. We have to stop him or we could be accomplices.” Kyle’s stomach felt like it did when Captain Hook’s ship swooped upward at the beginning of the Peter Pan ride at Disneyland.           

“We could not.” Scott shoved his bike into the rack. “We’re not helping him steal the car.”

“Yeah, but we’re watching him and not doing anything about it.” Kyle swung off his bike and slotted it next to Scott’s.

“So call the police.” Joe crossed his arms. He was a big kid, and that pose scared most of their classmates, but Kyle knew Joe better than most. Joe had no clue how threatening he looked. “They won’t believe us.

“Yeah, who’d listen to a bunch of kids?” Scott headed toward the ice cream store.

Kyle jingled the change in his pocket, dampening it with his sweaty hands. He looked across the parking lot, prickles running down his spine. He hurried over to the pay phone before he lost his nerve. The black receiver, hot from the sun, warmed his hand as he picked it up. Hearing the dial tone, he punched the metal buttons. The phone rang on the other end of the line.

The guy lifted the door handle of the last car in the lot, a blue Celica. The door cracked open and the guy scanned the lot before opening the door wider and slipping inside.           

“He’s gonna steal it!” Joe whispered

Kyle bounced the toe of his Vans against the sidewalk. The phone rang again.

“911. What’s your emergency?” said an official sounding voice.

“Uh—” Kyle’s voice cracked. He had to clear it. “Uh, I’d like to report a crime.”

“What’s your name?”

“Kyle Taylor. I’m at the shopping center at El Toro and Rockfield and there’s this guy in the parking lot—”

Scott grabbed Kyle’s shoulder. “He got it started!”

“—he’s stealing a car.”

“How old are you, Kyle?”

Kyle bounced his foot faster. What did his age have to do with anything? But he had been taught to always be respectful to adults. “Ten, sir. Could you please hurry?”

“Now what makes you think he’s stealing a car? How do you know it’s not his?”

“Because we saw him check all the doors of the cars in the parking lot. He found one that opened and climbed in. He just got it started.”

“All right. We’ll send someone to check it out. But, son, you’d better be telling the truth. It’s against the law to make a false report of a crime.”

“Yes, sir. I’m telling the truth.” Kyle swallowed. He should have had Scott call. Scott could get anybody to do anything he wanted, even grown ups. He was sure 911 wouldn’t question Scott about telling the truth.

With a squeal and a lurch the car pulled out of its spot and crossed the parking lot. Kyle gave the officer his home address, the direction the car was heading, and the kind of car it was before hanging up.

“Aren’t they coming?” Scott asked.

“He said they’ll have a unit in the area check it out.”

A siren sounded in the distance. They all turned.

The siren grew closer. A sheriff’s car came into view down Rockfield. The light was red at El Toro. The unit slowed slightly before turning left and speeding up.

The boys watched until it disappeared.

Kyle wiped his sweaty hands on his shorts. “Let’s go get some ice cream.”

They walked inside and ordered their cones. Kyle took his double scoop to a window booth. He took a bite and a piece of mint chocolate chip fell off. He caught it and flipped it in his mouth.

Joe and Scott sat down across from him.

“Wait! Hear that?” Scott stared out the window.

Then Kyle heard it. He jumped out of the booth, Joe and Scott right behind him, and dashed outside. “They’re coming back this way!”

A small blue speck grew larger until the Celica came into view, the sheriff’s car chasing it like a dog after a rabbit.

A farm truck loaded with orange crates crawled across the intersection.

The Celica swerved then slammed on its brakes. Sliding across the street, the tires left a black trail. The car missed the truck, like it was avoiding a tag at second base. With a thud and a jerk, the Celica crashed into the curb.

The deputy sheriff’s unit slid to a stop. He jumped out and threw open the Celica’s door. He hauled the driver out and tossed him against the hood. Two more cop cars came screaming up the street, squealing to a stop. A minute later the driver was cuffed and put into the back of the deputy’s car.

Kyle looked down. Half his cone had dripped down his hand. He licked it and grinned at his friends. “That was awesome!”

Chapter One

Driving his unmarked Crown Victoria, Detective Kyle Taylor glanced at his watch and grinned. He was going to make Friday night Bible study this time. And that meant Bernie was buying Starbucks.

 “…stolen white Lexus SUV. Suspects are four males, Caucasian, heading northbound on El Toro. Passing Jeronimo.” The radio crackled, the constant background music to his life. This transmission caught his attention. It was 3K 12, Jeff Griffin. As a detective, Kyle didn’t usually get involved in pursuits. But this was different. It was Griffin’s first. Kyle didn’t want anyone to get hurt.

He hit the lights and sirens on his cruiser, then picked up the dashboard mike. “David 57 to 3 King 12, moving to intercept from Trabuco and El Toro.” He replaced the mike.

He turned the corner on El Toro. In his rearview mirror he spotted the pursuit advancing toward him. He picked up speed. They were moving to a section of El Toro four lanes wide and not too busy this time of day.

“3 King 12, if he doesn’t speed up, this is a good place for a PIT.” He’d personally trained Griffin on that maneuver and knew the young cop could spin out the suspect’s car with minimal damage.

The lieutenant’s voice snapped over the radio. “All units be advised David 57 has the handle on this pursuit.” The lieutenant was obviously listening at the station.

Kyle groaned. Yeah, he was going to miss Bible study. Which meant he’d be buying Starbucks.

The Lexus SUV in his rearview mirror got big in a hurry. Kyle forced his eyes to scan the street in front of him, to avoid tunnel vision on his mirror. “Pursuit is headed toward Portola Parkway. Any units available to intercept, please respond.”

He moved across the lanes, trying to keep the suspect behind him.

“Three King 32 is responding. I’m headed up Lake Forest. ETA two minutes.”

“Three King 35 responding, currently at Los Alisos and Santa Margarita Parkway.”

Mission Viejo, huh? Patino must have been at Taco Bell. Again.

A glance at his speedometer. The needle crept up. “Negative on the PIT. Suspect is going too fast.”

The Lexus slewed into the on-coming lane.

Kyle scanned the road ahead. Around the curve, a delivery truck barreled down on them. He winced. Lord, please don’t let anyone get hurt.

Watching the rearview mirror, He saw the suspect cut in front of the truck. Smoke billowed out behind the truck with a screech of brakes. Going off-road, narrowly missing the truck, the Lexus kicked up dust. Back on the pavement now, he closed in on Portola.

Kyle punched the accelerator down. He had to reach the intersection ahead of the suspect. Gauging the distance, he slammed on his brakes. His car slid across the center of the intersection. Other cars spotted his flashing lights and came to a stop along the street.

The SUV was still bearing down on Kyle.

He wiped the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. Which way would the suspect go? He scanned the area trying to predict.

The Lexus cut the left corner, tires skidding and rear end fish-tailing, coming within inches of sideswiping Kyle’s cruiser.
He floored it, leaving a streak of rubber behind him as he willed the big V8 engine to race from a near standstill to now playing catch up.

Portola was a busy main thoroughfare. Stoplights dotted the street allowing access to office and industrial complexes on either side. And typical of Orange County drivers, they had their windows rolled up, talking on the phone, listening to the radio. Not paying attention. Their luxury cars designed to minimize road noise.
Someone was going to get hurt.

They flashed through two more intersections with green lights. Griffin called out their location as they passed each street. They were coming up on Lake Forest, another busy intersection.           

The light turned red.           

Cross traffic flowed heavily.           

Taillights flickered ahead of Kyle as the Lexus braked. He scanned the area, his mind running through the possible scenarios of doing a felony stop at the intersection.           

Traffic slowed down as drivers heard the sirens and saw the lights. A few cars still crossed on Lake Forest. Cars stopped at the red light blocked every lane.

The Lexus was trapped.           

Swerving, the SUV jumped the curb. It drove up on the sidewalk toward the intersection.

Kyle slammed his hand on the steering wheel and growled. Picking up his mike, he flipped the switch to PA. “Clear the intersection. Clear the intersection.”

The driver in front glanced at his rearview mirror.

Kyle glared back. The disadvantage of an unmarked car. It took too long for people to recognize you were a cop when you wanted them to. Though who else in Orange County but cops would drive these ugly cars.           

The Lexus popped off the curb and into the intersection. Swinging a U-turn, it headed back on Portola the way they’d come.

The driver in front of Kyle finally moved forward, responding to Griffin’s black and white.

Kyle pulled around the intersection, and saw Lopez racing up Lake Forest. As they flew through the intersection at Town Center, another cruiser going the opposite way on Portola wheeled around to join them. Must be Patino.

At Glenn Ranch Road, the suspect’s vehicle squealed through a left turn and headed up into the hills. This was all residential area, including an elementary school. Keep everyone safe, God. They’d soon be out of Laguna Vista city limits. Over the radio he heard Griffin request assistance from the sheriff’s department.

Kyle closed in as they crested the hill. His breaths came closer together.

Instead of turning into the residential area, the Lexus accelerated down the hill.

He blew a sigh of relief. Let’s get this thing ended. Glenn Ranch looped around and dead-ended back at El Toro. They had the suspect trapped now. Unless he went into the canyons.           

The SUV shrieked left onto El Toro and headed back into the hills, destined for either Live Oak or Silverado Canyon.           

Kyle followed, all three squad cars now trailing him. They approached Live Oak Canyon at nearly seventy miles an hour. Kyle hoped the suspect wouldn’t try to make the cutoff. It was a sharp turn and Cook’s Corner, a local hangout shack, sat close to the road. Kyle could just see the SUV missing the turn and plowing into the dirt lot full of Harleys.           

They passed Live Oak. Another relief.

El Toro Road became Santiago Canyon. Not as twisty as Live Oak, but still plenty of curves. Not many places to turn off, either, other than some private and fire roads. With the sheriff’s department coming from the other direction, they should have the suspect trapped soon.

Taillights strobed. Kyle slammed his foot on the brake.

The suspect slung onto a dirt road. Kyle followed, the kicked-up dust obscuring his vision. He bounced over the rough terrain, brush scraping the sides of his cruiser. This car had beefed up suspension, but it wasn’t an SUV.

The Lexus attempted a hairpin switchback. The back end slid out. It tilted up on two wheels, hovered, then slammed on its side.

Kyle’s unit shuddered to a stop. He called for EMS, throwing the mike on the seat as he jumped out. Others pulled in behind.

Drawing his gun, he covered the vehicle, waiting for backup. Dust settled around it, eerily silent. He took a deep breath, trying to slow the adrenaline racing through his veins.

The airbags had deployed, blocking the side windows, but the back lift-gate window revealed no movement. A groan came from inside.

It hadn’t ended safely for these guys. A twinge ricocheted in Kyle’s chest. He didn’t like people getting hurt. It was a big part of his job to prevent that. But they started it by stealing a car and failing to yield. This time, thank the Lord, they only hurt themselves.

Griffin ran up behind him, gun also covering the SUV. Lopez and Patino followed.

“Anybody hurt?” Lopez’s voice came from behind Kyle.

“Can’t tell.” Kyle studied the vehicle then squatted, peering through the lift-gate window. Looked like two in front, two in back. Tinted windows made it hard to see, especially in the fading light. “Can you hear me in there?”

“Uh, yeah. I think my arm’s broken.” A young voice, like a teenage boy’s.

“Okay, we’ve got an ambulance on the way. Who else is in there?”

“Hey Alex. You awake, man? Alex? Cole?”

Kyle heard the panic in the voice.

“I can’t get any of them to answer me.” Tears now, too. “Trevor’s next to me and he’s got blood coming out of his head.”

Kyle thumbed his radio requesting an ETA for the ambulance.

“David 57 that’s 15 plus.”

He looked up and holstered his gun. “Let’s see what we can do.”

Patino nodded and pulled out his baton.

Kyle turned to the window again. “We’re going to break out this back window so we can help you. I’ll need you to cover your face. What’s your name?”

“Justin Foster.”

Kyle froze. Justin?

***

Heather McAlistair strode into the green room after the first Sunday service, the cool air a relief after the hot stage lights. She had time to grab a cup of coffee before the next service…if it wasn’t all gone. She pulled a Styrofoam cup from the stack and stuck it under the carafe’s spigot and pushed the lever.

Nothing.

Water sounded better anyway. Taking a side-step to the water cooler, she tipped the cup under its spout and pressed the button.

Nothing.

It can’t all be gone. She grabbed the back of the cooler and tilted it forward while her other hand held the cup under the spout and pushed the button.

A few drops dribbled out. The cooler started to slide off the table. She stuck her hip out to stop it.

“Here, I got it.” Bernie grabbed the cooler and shoved it back on the table. Heather hadn’t even seen him come up. But he was like that. For all of his life-of-the-party personality, he always seemed to know what was going on in the room, always willing to lend a hand.

She smiled. “Thanks. Nothing to show for all that effort, though.”

“Hey, there’s always tap water.”

Heather made a face. “Yuck.” She tossed the useless cup in the trash.

“Great sermon, huh?”

“Yep.” She plopped down in the nearest chair. She really needed to find something to drink before they sang again. Where was the nearest drinking fountain? She couldn’t remember. Why hadn’t she grabbed a bottle of water before she left this morning?

Bernie eased into the chair next to her. “What’d you think of the testimony?”           

“I am always amazed at the things people go through that bring them to Christ.” She shook her head. “I don’t know what I’d have done if I came from that background. I can’t even imagine.”           

“You grew up in a Christian home?”           

“Yep. Of course plenty of the kids I went to church with still rebelled, got into partying in college, but I was pretty much a goody-goody.” She scanned the room. Where was she going to get some water?           

“That’s not such a bad thing.”           

She focused on Bernie. “Oh, I know. I’m grateful for it. But it did open me up to a lot of teasing at the time.”           

“Probably from guys like me. Hey, are you in a small group?”           

Heather didn’t even blink at the abrupt change in subject. It was classic Bernie. “I was. We just finished a Beth Moore study a couple of weeks ago, but our leader got a job transfer and is moving. And a couple of people had problems with the night we met. So the group ended and I’m looking for a new one.”           

“Want to join our singles’ group? Friday nights at seven, then we usually do something afterwards.”           

The idea of joining a new group where she wouldn’t know anybody made Heather uneasy. But she would most likely have that problem with any group she joined. If she didn’t get into a new group soon, it would just reinforce her tendency to be a hermit.

She would know Bernie, and the conversation would be focused on the Bible study, not idle chit-chat which she was terrible at. “Friday nights are great. Then I don’t have to worry about not having a date.” She slid her gaze away from Bernie’s as if she were casually glancing around the room. She was such an idiot. The things that popped out of her mouth. Good thing she didn’t talk for a living.           

Bernie drummed his fingers on the round tabletop. It sounded like the rhythm of the first worship song. He probably thought she was hinting about that date thing. Would anyone notice if she crawled under a table?           

“Who’s got a date?” Sarah slipped into the seat next to Heather, her auburn curls swinging over her shoulder. Curls and color Heather envied.

“Not me. I’m going to join a Friday night Bible study so I don’t have to worry about it.” Heather forced a grin at Sarah, hoping she would get the hint and change the subject.

Sarah popped open her water bottle and took a sip.           

Heather eyed Sarah’s bottle. “Uh, Sarah…”

Bernie stopped his drumming. “Hey Kyle.”           

Heather turned to look. A tall man with close-cut sandy blond hair set a Starbucks cup in front of Bernie. His gray eyes were the color of the ocean on a cloudy day. Good looking, he nicely filled out his sport shirt. She didn’t dare look for a ring; she’d get caught for sure and wouldn’t that just be humiliating.          

“Hey Bernie. You guys sounded great up there.”           

“Thanks.” Bernie turned to look at Heather, then back at Kyle. “Kyle, do you know Heather?” He picked up the cup and took a sip.           

Did everyone around her have to have something to drink? This was torture.           

Kyle extended his hand over the table. “No, I haven’t had the pleasure, but I know your face from your singing in the choir. I’m Kyle Taylor.”           

“Heather McAlistair.” She shook his hand. Warm, large, a little rough with calluses. She couldn’t think of a thing to say, as usual. “Nice to meet you.” Her tongue felt glued to the roof of her mouth. She really needed some water. He released her hand, and she put it back in her lap.           

“And this is Sarah Brockman.” Bernie tilted his head in Sarah’s direction.           

Kyle stretched across the table once again to shake Sarah’s hand. Heather caught a whiff of his aftershave. Something woodsy and spicy.

Bernie leaned back in his chair, tilting it up on two legs. He ran his hand through his black curly hair. “Heather’s going to join our Bible study.”           

He was in Bernie’s Bible study? Then he was single.           

“Really?” Kyle’s eyebrows raised. “That’s great. You’ll like it. It’s a good group of people, and we have a lot of fun.”           

“How would you know? You’ve missed the last two weeks.”           

“One of the drawbacks of my job. But, as you can see—” he gestured to the Starbucks cup—“I made good on our deal. However, I actually came back to say several of us are going out to lunch. And I got elected to twist your arm. Heather, join us so you can meet the rest of the group.”           

Bernie glanced at Heather. “We’ve got to sing at the beginning of the next service, but if you don’t mind us being a little late, then it sounds great. You in, Heather?”           

Her first inclination was to say no. Her small talk game was obviously not on today. She glanced at Kyle. Big mistake. Those gray eyes focused intently on her.           

“Say yes, Heather.” Kyle grinned.           

She couldn’t resist grinning back. “Yes.”           

“Great! I’ll meet you guys back here when you’re finished and we can ride together.”

“Time to line up!” Someone yelled from the front of the room before Heather could say anything else. Bernie’s chair clanked back to four legs.           

A few minutes later she was on the risers on stage in front of the church. As the choir finished filing in, she scanned the congregation while crunching a cough drop bummed from Cait. Not the same as water, but better than nothing.
Kyle stood in the back, leaning against the wall, arms crossed. His gaze focused on her, or so it seemed.

She slid her eyes away and fiddled with her bracelet. Knowing someone was watching her made her self-conscious. Like when the church video camera was on her, displaying her face on the big screens overhead. She smiled and hoped it looked genuine.

Absently she scanned the congregation, looking for familiar faces. She spotted a few and smiled.

Her eyes had moved on before her brain registered the face.

A sharp intake of breath and the cough drop slid partway down her throat and stuck. She coughed to dislodge it. Her eyes watered. She blinked rapidly and took a breath.

Afraid of what she might have seen, she couldn’t quite bring herself to look again. Surely her mind was just playing tricks on her. He couldn’t be here. Could he?

Working to keep her expression neutral, she snuck a glance. Third row, aisle seat.

Yep, he was there.

Brett.

Grinning up at her.

He was supposed to be in New York. What was he doing here?

A million questions raced through her mind. But someone stepped into her field of view. Ryan Bradley, their worship leader, raised his eyebrows at her and nodded toward the mike on the stand.

She wouldn’t let Brett do this to her. He wasn’t going to ruin anything else. She didn’t need to be afraid. She was surrounded by people. What could he do?

She stepped forward to pick up the mike. She licked her lips and forced down the twitches in her stomach. If she got nervous, her voice would tighten and shake, and she’d sound terrible. She couldn’t deal with Brett now.
Closing her eyes, she focused on the words of the song. Audience of One, right? She wasn’t doing this for Brett or Kyle, or anyone else out there. She was singing to the Lord.

This was the tricky part. She had to sing the first word before the band played the note. She had to be right on. Focusing on the music in her mind, she let her breath out and back in. And sang. The first line. Right on.

She opened her eyes.

Sarah stepped forward, her alto joining Heather’s soprano.

As their voices blended, the room faded away and Heather was only aware of the music and voices flowing around them. Her voice seemed to be singing on its own, without any direction from her. She couldn’t tell where her voice ended and Sarah’s began.

On the chorus, the choir and congregation joined in. Heather lowered the mike and stepped back with the choir. Only when the song ended did she risk a glance to the back of the church, her eyes skipping past Brett.

Kyle was still there. He gave her a thumbs-up and a smile that caused a flood of warmth that started in her heart and worked its way through her whole being.

Forget Brett. She was safe.

She hoped she didn’t blow it at lunch with Kyle.

***

Kyle walked out of the building and into the courtyard. People passed him as they meandered into church. Loudspeakers broadcast the announcements, so those coming in late or sitting outside wouldn’t miss anything.

Heather had a beautiful voice. He always enjoyed listening to her sing. But he’d never seen her in person before, just up on the big screen. Taking a description out of habit, he’d noted her light brown hair, cut just below her chin, soft brown eyes. Even though she was sitting, he guessed her height to be about five seven, slender build. Classic, understated beauty. How Bernie had managed to get her to join their Bible study, Kyle didn’t know. But he was glad.

He was looking forward to lunch.

Forget lunch, he was looking forward to Heather.

His career had a tendency to consume his time. But he was 33 and getting to a point where work wasn’t the only thing he needed to fill his life. He could pay a little attention to a pretty woman and think about settling down. Maybe it’d be different than the last time he tried eight years ago. That was long enough for a broken heart to heal, wasn’t it?

Rounding the corner of the breezeway, headed back to the green room, he heard his name and turned.

“Kyle, I thought that was you.” A woman waved at him.

No matter when he saw Claire Foster, she always looked dressed to go to Fashion Island or South Coast Plaza. Even when she’d come to pick up her son at the jail. “Hi, Claire. How’s Justin?” He glanced toward the greenroom. He could spare her a minute.

“In major trouble.” She took off her big-framed sunglasses. “His father flew back from New York yesterday and was not pleased.” She tapped the frames against her hand. “But then, when is he ever pleased?” She waved her hand as if that wiped the thought away. “Anyway, if Justin was trying to get his dad’s attention, he got it. I just wanted to thank you for all you did. I know it could have been much worse for him.”

Kyle slid his hands into his pockets. “He could have been killed. I hope that shook him up.”

“I hope so, too, but I don’t know. He won’t talk to me. He just sits in his room and listens to music or plays on the computer or who knows what. If last week was an example of how he spent his free time during Spring Break, I’m really worried about the summer.”

“Justin’s not a bad kid. He just needs to find some better friends. Does he go to the high school youth group?”
She shook her head. “I’ve tried to get him to go, but he says all the kids there are dorks.”

“Hanging around Alex and friends isn’t a good move, either. Just because this time the car they stole happened to belong to Alex’s parents doesn’t mean that next time it won’t really be stolen. And being in a police pursuit isn’t exactly good for his health. He’s lucky he didn’t get hurt.”

“I know. But they’re popular, and Justin won’t listen to me. His dad is too busy flying all over the country to have time for him. Or me either, which is why we divorced.” She slipped her sunglasses in an outside pocket of her purse. “Sorry, Kyle. I don’t mean to dump all my problems on you.”

“It’s okay.” He felt bad for Claire. She was doing her best, but she needed more help than she was getting. “Look, I have to go, and you need to get into church, but do you think Justin would be willing to get up early enough on a Saturday to hit the waves with me?”

Claire gave Kyle a genuine smile. “That’s really sweet of you. I’ll make sure he gets up, even if I have to dump him out of bed myself.”

Kyle smiled. “Then I’ll give him a call and set something up.”