…to fellow writers who willingly shared the wealth of their experience: Jeremiah Healy, for valuable instruction on creating a series character; Anthony Bruno, for an encouraging critique and review; and all of my lovely, ever-helpful Sisters in Crime.

…to Church of the Saviour in Wayne, PA, for biblical guidance, theological clarification, and support.

…to my “e-mail posse,” that long list of folks to whom I send out all kinds of questions in the middle of the night and they reply with clever, delightful answers and suggestions. Friends, I couldn’t do it without you.

Finally, to my fabulous daughters, Emily and Lauren, for your constant love and support—and for giving mom “just five more minutes” at the computer. You’re the best!

Brothers, we do not want you to be ignorant about those who fall asleep, or to grieve like the rest of men, who have no hope. We believe that Jesus died and rose again and so we believe that God will bring with Jesus those who have fallen asleep in him.

1 THESSALONIANS 4:13-14

Contents

Acknowledgments

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

Sixteen

Seventeen

Eighteen

Nineteen

Twenty

Twenty-One

Twenty-Two

Twenty-Three

Twenty-Four

Twenty-Five

Twenty-Six

Twenty-Seven

Twenty-Eight

Twenty-Nine

Thirty

Thirty-One

Thirty-Two

Thirty-Three

Thirty-Four

Thirty-Five

Thirty-Six

Thirty-Seven

Thirty-Eight

Thirty-Nine

Forty

Forty-One

Forty-Two

Forty-Three

Forty-Four

Forty-Five

Forty-Six

Forty-Seven

Forty-Eight

Forty-Nine

Fifty

Fifty-One

Fifty-Two

Fifty-Three

Fifty-Four

About the Author

Other Books by Mindy Starns Clark

About the Publisher

One

The organization was legit. After three weeks of investigating, that was my final conclusion, the final report I faxed to my boss. After he reviewed my summary and gave me the go-ahead, I wrote out a check for $300,000, locked it in my briefcase, and headed for downtown Chicago. I had already reserved a flight home for later in the afternoon; now all that remained was to meet with these people and do what I had come here to do.

The place was called Transition Resources, and it was run by a friendly mother-and-son team. I had called for an “emergency” appointment, and they had readily agreed to see me, even though they didn’t know who I was or the real reason I was there. All I had told them was that my name was Callie Webber and that I needed to have a meeting with both of them.

I’m sure they thought I was just another client wanting their agency’s help. My showing up in a taxi, wearing a suit, did seem to throw them a little—probably because most of their clientele usually come by bus, wearing sweatpants or torn jeans. Nevertheless, they shook my hand and invited me down the hall of their cramped, somewhat shabby office building and into a room lined with stacks of papers and folding metal chairs.

“You’ll have to excuse the mess,” the woman said, motioning for me to have a seat. “There’s a leak in the ceiling of the back room where we keep the files. We had to move everything in here.”