{"id":1469,"date":"2009-05-18T14:38:48","date_gmt":"2009-05-18T19:38:48","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/\/?p=1469"},"modified":"2009-05-18T14:38:48","modified_gmt":"2009-05-18T19:38:48","slug":"the-firstborn-by-conlan-brown","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/?p=1469","title":{"rendered":"The Firstborn by Conlan Brown"},"content":{"rendered":"

<\/a>\"\"<\/a>It is time for a FIRST Wild Card Tour<\/a><\/strong><\/span><\/strong> book review! If you wish to join the FIRST blog alliance, just click the button. We are a group of reviewers who tour Christian books. A Wild Card post includes a brief bio of the author and a full chapter from each book toured. The reason it is called a FIRST Wild Card Tour is that you never know if the book will be fiction, non~fiction, for young, or for old…or for somewhere in between! Enjoy your free peek into the book!<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n

You never know when I might play a wild card on you!<\/em><\/span><\/p>\n

Today’s Wild Card author is: <\/strong><\/div>\n
Conlan Brown<\/a><\/span><\/strong><\/div>\n

and the book:<\/span> <\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n

The Firstborn<\/a><\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n

Realms (May 5, 2009)<\/p>\n

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:<\/span> <\/span><\/strong><\/div>\n

\"\"<\/a>By the end of his sixteenth year Conlan Brown had completed his first novel, his first stage play, and his first year of college. Brown now holds a Master’s degree in Communication and lives on Colorado’s Front Range where he is working on his next book. He enjoys video editing, film scores, and developing high octane, thought provoking fiction that turns pages and excites the senses.<\/p>\n

Visit the author’s website<\/a>.<\/p>\n

Product Details:<\/p>\n

List Price: $13.99<\/p>\n

Paperback: 311 pages<\/p>\n

Publisher: Realms (May 5, 2009)<\/p>\n

Language: English<\/p>\n

ISBN-10: 1599796074<\/p>\n

ISBN-13: 978-1599796079<\/p>\n

AND NOW…THE FIRST CHAPTER:<\/span> <\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

The door to the gas station opened with a tinny gling, the antiquated bell chiming as Devin entered the store. The sound was a testament to the essence of the small backwoods town. At best it was quaint; at worst it was a sign of dilapidation in the middle of snowy nowhere.<\/p>\n

As he entered he picked up one of the newspapers by the door, reading the headline: Holy Man Murdered Outside of Ohio Mosque\u2014Imam Basam Al Nassar Shot to Death in Car.<\/p>\n

The person behind the counter was a young man. He was too old to be a boy, but he hardly exuded an aura of maturity. He was blond, with shaggy hair that hung in his eyes. Lips, nose, eyebrows, and ears were all pierced. The Virgin Mary was tattooed on the side of his neck. He didn\u2019t seem to notice Devin\u2019s approach at first, until the clipping sound of expensive shoe heels were within feet of the counter. The checker looked up, face startled.<\/p>\n

Devin was used to it. His skin was black, which meant he looked different from the locals. The result was distrust. He didn\u2019t like it, but he didn\u2019t sink to showing it\u2014no sign of weakness. Instead he advanced with purpose, stopping at the counter.<\/p>\n

\u201cCan I help you?\u201d the checker asked, eyes darting over the new face.<\/p>\n

Devin said nothing, simply sliding a crisp fifty-dollar bill across the glass.<\/p>\n

The checker nodded through his unsettled demeanor. \u201cJust the gas?\u201d he asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd the newspaper,\u201d Devin said, voice articulate and commanding. Then something changed. He felt it in his stomach this time. No images, just the sinking feeling of finality and irreversible death:<\/p>\n

Soon. Too soon.<\/p>\n

Not days or hours.<\/p>\n

Now.<\/p>\n

His cellular phone came open with a snap.<\/p>\n

\u2014no signal\u2014<\/p>\n

Devin reached into his wallet, swiftly removing and writing on a business card before sliding it across the glass countertop. He tapped his index finger on the card, indicating the neatly written script across its back. He tightened his vocal cords, voice intense.<\/p>\n

\u201cI need you to call the police. Tell them to send a car to this address. A woman\u2019s life is in danger. Do you understand?\u201d<\/p>\n

Devin was looked over skeptically. \u201cThat all depends on what you have in mind. What\u2019s your business here?\u201d<\/p>\n

Small towns, Devin thought cynically. People always talked about the joys of small town living, but he personally found it infuriating\u2014nosy people who didn\u2019t trust you if they hadn\u2019t grown up with you. At least in the city you had a reason not to trust each other.<\/p>\n

\u201cDo it,\u201d he said with a commanding edge, \u201cand do it now.\u201d He left the store, pushing through the curtain of early-spring snow.<\/p>\n

The young man behind the counter looked over the letters, taking a moment to let the information sink in. He brushed his thumb anxiously across his lower lip, shifting a piercing. \u201cHey?.?.?.?\u201d His voice dragged inarticulately. \u201cHey, Gary.\u201d The checker lifted his head, calling to the far end of the gas station near the refrigerators on the back wall.<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah?\u201d a voice called back.<\/p>\n

\u201cCome here.\u201d<\/p>\n

A gruff-looking man with a craggy face approached the counter. \u201cWhat is it?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat guy just told me to have the cops sent here,\u201d the checker said, handing over the business card.<\/p>\n

Gary looked it over, thinking for a second. \u201cI know this place,\u201d he said with a nod. \u201cOutsiders trying to tell us how to run our own town,\u201d he growled, then crumpled the card in his fist.<\/p>\n

The eggs were burning.<\/p>\n

Brett cursed quietly under his breath as he reached for the skillet, trying to keep breakfast from turning to coal.<\/p>\n

The kitchen phone rang.<\/p>\n

He lifted it from the cradle, positioning it snugly between his shoulder and cheek as he fought with the eggs, waving smoke away with a towel.<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah?\u201d he said through a cough.<\/p>\n

\u201cThis is Gary.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHi, Gary; how can I help you?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSome guy just came by the gas station. Black fella, nice suit, fancy coat\u2014looked like he might work for the IRS or something.\u201d<\/p>\n

Brett paused. \u201cDid he say what he wanted?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHe wanted somebody to send the cops over.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhy?\u201d Brett stammered, eyes moving toward the CCTV monitor on the countertop.<\/p>\n

\u201cDidn\u2019t say.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDo you think he\u2019s headed here now?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t know.\u201d<\/p>\n

Brett continued to stare into the monitor. \u201cHow long ago did he leave?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cJust a second ago.\u201d<\/p>\n

He watched as the black-and-white screen flickered: it showed the image of the girl as she sat tied to her chair in the dark basement room below, hair hanging across her bowed face, morose from her captivity. \u201cI can\u2019t talk right now,\u201d Brett said shortly, then hung up.<\/p>\n

This was a problem.<\/p>\n

Hannah\u2019s head hung, long brown hair in her eyes.<\/p>\n

Her face felt pasty with cold, fatigue, and pain. Dark lumps covered her body, swelling bruises on her cheek and forehead from rough treatment. Arms behind her back, she sat in a chair, wrists and ankles tied to the wooden frame, chair legs bolted to the floor.<\/p>\n

The room was dark. Mattresses and foam padding lined the walls and windows to soundproof the basement room. Tan foam lined the seams between sound-buffering pads, rippling in imperfect bubbles and waves, frozen solid in time as it had been spewed from an aerosol canister. A tiny security camera was fixed in an upper corner.<\/p>\n

Time stood still for her. One long unbroken moment of darkness and fear was all that filled her memory. Hours? Days? Weeks? She had no perception of how long she had been there. They had turned on lights at moments, brilliantly hot and bright, stabbing at her eyes, then extinguished them for what could have been days on end.<\/p>\n

Every time she fell asleep they woke her. Feedings were sporadic\u2014two meals she knew could have only been forty-five minutes apart. Judging time had been easier when they were still playing music\u2014something they had done to make sure she couldn\u2019t hear them until they realized how well they had soundproofed her room. The length of the songs had given her a perception of time, but now that measure was gone, and her sanity was going with it.<\/p>\n

Hannah had been raised in a conservative Christian home. It was something she had taken at varying degrees of seriousness throughout the phases of her life, but here, now, in the abyss, in her hour of darkness, she clung to it.<\/p>\n

At first her prayers had been specific, personal, and directed to God as if He were standing right in front of her. Now she was tired, her mind swimming. Her lips mumbled out a tiny incoherent appeal, begging for rescue, pleading for light, imploring for continued safety, hoping upon terrified hope that the sanctity of her body would not be violated. Through her pleas she felt God draw closer and her sanity slip further away.<\/p>\n

She was hallucinating. She had to be, seeing things that had happened long ago or not at all\u2014and she felt it coming on again. It had been different each time, but she always felt it coming. This time it was a taste, like the bright tang of a penny in her mouth.<\/p>\n

Then she began to see things that weren\u2019t there\u2014<\/p>\n

A cold car.<\/p>\n

An Islamic holy man praying for forgiveness that Allah, the merciful and just, would have pity on him. He had recruited young, innocent Palestinian men to bind explosives to themselves\u2014to walk into crowds of Israelis\u2014to kill\u2014and to die.<\/p>\n

He had failed for years to free Palestine from Israel.<\/p>\n

He was an American now, the imam of a small Ohio mosque. A man of peace.<\/p>\n

Sitting in the car, waiting for it to warm up.<\/p>\n

Thoughts of his sons\u2014wanting to kiss them before they went to sleep.<\/p>\n

A pedestrian in a heavy coat walking in the direction of his car.<\/p>\n

Eye contact.<\/p>\n

The man reached into his jacket.<\/p>\n

\u2014a gun\u2014<\/p>\n

Panic.<\/p>\n

Clawing at the car door\u2014trying to escape. The first bullet punching through the glass.<\/p>\n

Pain. Skin breaking. Muscle splitting. Bone shattering.<\/p>\n

Horror. Pain. Grief. Screaming.<\/p>\n

The windshield blistering with holes.<\/p>\n

Thoughts of his wife\u2014of his children.<\/p>\n

Body torn to pieces by the striking of lead.<\/p>\n

Darkness.<\/p>\n

Minutes later a jogger in the middle of the street, stammering into his cell phone. \u201cThe windshield is filled with bullet holes and there\u2019s blood?.?.?.?everywhere!\u201d<\/p>\n

It all came over her like a flood, a pouring out of pictures in her mind. But then there was one more thing. Not an image, but a feeling\u2014that half a continent away someone else had felt it all happening too.<\/p>\n

The sedan thundered down the wet, snowy dirt road. White snow, brown mud, and ashen gravel kicked up and out from the sides of the vehicle. The silver automobile cut through the road\u2019s debris like a blade as the surrounding world blurred into fleeting streaks.<\/p>\n

A midsize luxury sedan with a manual transmission\u2014as always, the vehicle of choice the rental company had in his file. Devin had rented it at the airport expecting to have more time, but he didn\u2019t. He hadn\u2019t expected to cut it so close, but there was no reasoning with it now. All he could do was drive, hands gripping the wheel as if he had to wrestle the sedan to the ground like a beast.<\/p>\n

The snow had stopped falling for the moment, and that helped\u2014a little. But what a horrid frozen wasteland to be trapped in. Back home in New York, spring had already begun\u2014sunshine all over. But he had to be called here: to the only place in the entire continental United States to have a blizzard, where snow had fallen in buckets and the sun hadn\u2019t been seen in days.<\/p>\n

To his right Devin saw the house appear over the horizon as the silver car glided up the hill. Five minutes at the most. He was almost there. He checked his phone again and snarled\u2014too far from any kind of cell tower\u2014a snowy wasteland.<\/p>\n

Somewhere in the back of his mind he focused himself, aligning his will and his strength in faith. Some would call it a prayer. Devin resisted that word prayer. To him it was a necessary requisitioning of needed resources\u2014spiritual or otherwise, it didn\u2019t matter.<\/p>\n

It was his thoughts narrowing into a finely focused, single-minded bolt of mental force, preparing for imminent havoc.<\/p>\n

Hannah\u2019s mind swam.<\/p>\n

She saw him as her world dissolved to white.<\/p>\n

Tall, handsome, dark skin.<\/p>\n

Sitting at a dinner party.<\/p>\n

Pausing. Something changing.<\/p>\n

A thought or epiphany.<\/p>\n

The man boarding a plane.<\/p>\n

Searching for?.?.?.<\/p>\n

Her.<\/p>\n

Strikingly handsome in an olive-colored suit that seemed to radiate class, money, and power. His frame stood strong in the midst of the frozen breeze, his tight muscular body accented by the hang of the trench coat over his strong shoulders.<\/p>\n

He had been afraid for her, more than just for her captivity; for something far more treacherous. She paused. How afraid should she be for herself?<\/p>\n

Brett growled in anger. It was really fear, but he denied it by letting it bubble out in a swell of wrath.<\/p>\n

\u201cI should never have let you use my home!\u201d He was frantic, nearly wringing his hands. \u201cThis can\u2019t be happening!\u201d<\/p>\n

Snider and Jimmy stared at him, unmoved. They didn\u2019t take him seriously. They thought he was prone to panic, that was all.<\/p>\n

\u201cCalm down,\u201d Jimmy said sarcastically.<\/p>\n

\u201cCalm down? Calm down?\u201d His face burned. \u201cWe\u2019ve got a girl in the basement. That\u2019s kidnapping! And this fella\u2019s gonna bring the cops!\u201d<\/p>\n

Snider, middle-aged and dressed in black, stepped forward. \u201cAnd what if he\u2019s not?\u201d He was the leader, the one who had approached Brett, offered him money for the use of his home. Brett knew he had a reputation for being somewhat shady, but Brett liked money. And now things were getting serious.<\/p>\n

\u201cIf you don\u2019t settle down, you\u2019re going to look suspicious,\u201d Snider continued. \u201cAnd then what will you do when he really does bring the cops?\u201d<\/p>\n

Brett waved his hands nervously. \u201cThis has gotten out of hand. We can\u2019t do this anymore.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat do you suggest?\u201d Snider asked. \u201cThat we dispose of her?\u201d<\/p>\n

There was a long silence as they all looked at one another; then Brett turned sharply, heading for his room.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhere are you going?\u201d Snider asked.<\/p>\n

Brett called back, \u201cI\u2019ll deal with this!\u201d<\/p>\n

The turn was a blind corner, covered by snow. Devin slammed on the brakes, and the car lost control.<\/p>\n

The back end of the car swung wide, losing traction in the slick of white. The tires left wide swaths of grime as the side of the car crunched into a pack of snow. Devin worked the sedan into gear and eased into the gas\u2014the engine revved, the vehicle rocked, but he didn\u2019t move forward. He gave the pedal a futile stomp, but he knew all he was doing was chopping ground into snowy pulp.<\/p>\n

His eyes lifted, mind calculating the distance\u2014maybe a hundred or so meters. He shoved the door open and climbed out into the snow. Cold ran up his foot, into his throat. It wasn\u2019t the cold of the snow; it was\u2014<\/p>\n

Panic. Anger. Desperation.<\/p>\n

Blam. Blam. BLAM!<\/p>\n

The killer\u2019s face, covered with relief.<\/p>\n

His foot slipped, his body nearly going down. It had snowed again the night before, and the snow was as deep as three feet in some places. Devin lifted his burning legs, body heaving forward through the thick mass beneath him.<\/p>\n

He\u2019d done forced marches before. Ten years of military life had provided him with everything he needed in this moment, everything he\u2019d ever needed to live this life.<\/p>\n

Devin looked up.<\/p>\n

Almost there.<\/p>\n

Beretta 9mm.<\/p>\n

Shimmering blue steel nestled in a form-fitting glove of padding. The scent of gun oil wafted from the case, sweet and lethal. Brett lifted the firearm, felt its weight as he removed a magazine swelling with a full allowance of rounds and thrust it into the grip\u2019s base.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat are you doing?\u201d Snider demanded from behind as he cursed in exasperation.<\/p>\n

Brett snapped the safety off, shoving past Snider toward the door. Snider shoved back, slamming Brett\u2019s shoulder blades into the wall.<\/p>\n

\u201cLet go!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnswer me!\u201d Snider shouted, face filled with wrath. \u201cWhat do you think you\u2019re going to do with that?\u201d<\/p>\n

Brett\u2019s face burned with reckless emotion. \u201cThis is my house. I\u2019m going to protect myself my way!\u201d He stared into furious, unforgiving eyes.<\/p>\n

\u201cI swear if you do anything stupid I will put you in the ground!\u201d<\/p>\n

Brett shoved back to no avail. A third voice called from the hall.<\/p>\n

\u201cHey, guys. There\u2019s somebody coming.\u201d<\/p>\n

Snider moved to the window, betraying none of his worry. To his left Brett leaned, hand resting against the window frame, twitching with near-frantic energy.<\/p>\n

The man outside was coming up the snowy drive, drawing closer and closer.<\/p>\n

\u201cThis is bad,\u201d Brett said again. \u201cThis is very bad.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cCalm down,\u201d Snider ordered. \u201cI\u2019ll deal with this.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWe\u2019ve got to get rid of the girl.\u201d<\/p>\n

Snider shook his head. \u201cDo you want him to find the girl or a dead body?\u201d<\/p>\n

Brett groaned, agonized.<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s not the answer.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThen what do you suggest?\u201d<\/p>\n

Snider went calm, looking at the other two men. \u201cLet our visitor in\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

Brett tried to protest.<\/p>\n

\u201c\u2014then kill him.\u201d<\/p>\n

Devin reached out to the door with an ebony hand.<\/p>\n

Frantic whispers slipped through the door. They were stalling.<\/p>\n

The door opened, and a middle-aged man in black jeans, a black button-up shirt, and a tan undershirt looked back at Devin.<\/p>\n

Devin smiled disarmingly. \u201cGood morning, sir. I hate to say it, but it looks like I might have been driving too fast for the conditions. I seem to have slipped into the snow.\u201d Devin pointed back over his shoulder to the sedan\u2019s front end consumed by a drift. \u201cMy cell phone isn\u2019t getting a signal, and I was wondering if I could use your phone.\u201d<\/p>\n

The man looked past Devin, examining the buried vehicle in the distance. \u201cWe can help you dig that out.\u201d He gestured toward a younger man standing behind him.<\/p>\n

\u201cThank you.\u201d<\/p>\n

The man stepped aside welcomingly. \u201cMy name\u2019s Snider. You look completely frozen\u2014why don\u2019t you come in and warm up? I\u2019ll pour you a cup of coffee. There\u2019s a fireplace in the next room if you want to sit there for a few minutes before we dig out your car.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThank you, sir.\u201d Devin stepped across the threshold, knocking the snow from an expensive shoe. The interior carpet was factory standard beige, the walls white. Devin\u2019s eyes scanned the room, looking for any hint of the girl. He remembered what he\u2019d seen. She had to be in the basement, but for now he was just going to have to see what he was up against.<\/p>\n

Snider squared up to Devin. \u201cJimmy here can take that wet jacket of yours and put it in front of the fire to dry it out.\u201d<\/p>\n

Jimmy reached for Devin\u2019s trench coat.<\/p>\n

\u201cThank you,\u201d Devin said, as he felt strong arms grab his own\u2014restraining him from behind.<\/p>\n

He threw his weight back, shoving against Jimmy. Fighting. Struggling. Lashing out.<\/p>\n

Throwing his weight back he lifted his legs, heel landing in Snider\u2019s chest with a thud, sending the man crashing back. The man behind him spun him and the world blurred. Devin kicked backward, going for the knee\u2014<\/p>\n

Something jammed into his neck, hard.<\/p>\n

He tried to fight. Tried to knock it away. A repetitive, electric clicking.<\/p>\n

Too late.<\/p>\n

Brett heard the fighting and the sound of dead weight hitting the floor as he ran back up the stairs, Beretta in hand. The intruder lay on the floor, limp. Brett\u2019s hands began to shake.<\/p>\n

\u201cWe\u2019ve been found,\u201d he said, voice anxious and wavering.<\/p>\n

Jimmy groaned. \u201cShut up, Brett.\u201d<\/p>\n

Brett\u2019s face flushed, his ears turning bright pink. \u201cNo. I\u2019m not going to shut up,\u201d he shouted, gripping his pistol. \u201cThis is bad. This is very, very bad, and we\u2019re neck-deep in it.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cKnock it off.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo. We\u2019re all going to go to prison. Do you understand that?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt was just one guy\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201c\u2014who\u2019s now lying limp on my floor!\u201d Brett\u2019s tone raised an octave.<\/p>\n

Snider knelt over the intruder\u2019s slumped form. \u201cTake him to the lake in his car. Make it look like he lost control and went in.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cLike an accident?\u201d Jimmy clarified.<\/p>\n

Snider nodded. \u201cThese roads can be treacherous in snowy conditions.\u201d<\/p>\n

Brett watched as Jimmy hoisted the intruder over his shoulder, heaving him out the front door. \u201cYou know the police are going to tie this back to me.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cCalm down,\u201d Snider snapped.<\/p>\n

\u201cStop telling me to calm down. They\u2019re not going to tie this to you. They\u2019re going to tie this to me.\u201d<\/p>\n

Snider ran a hand through his hair wearily. \u201cWhere\u2019s breakfast?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t try to change the subject. This is serious!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cFinish breakfast,\u201d Snider ordered as he moved down the hall, back turned.<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t you walk away from me!\u201d Brett blustered as he stomped after him, gun in hand. \u201cI\u2019m talking to you!\u201d He reached out, putting a hand on the black-clad shoulder, then felt it twist as Snider spun.<\/p>\n

Brett doubled over with his arm cocked violently in the air, wrist screwed in an unnatural direction, a strong hand shoving his shoulder down like a fulcrum. A knee to his stomach and the pistol hit the carpet.<\/p>\n

Snider came close to Brett\u2019s ear. \u201cYou do not talk to me that way\u201d\u2014his tone was soft but ferocious\u2014\u201cor so help me you\u2019ll find yourself in the lake next to our uninvited guest here. Got it?\u201d<\/p>\n

Brett felt like his arm was about to be torn from its socket.<\/p>\n

\u201cGot it?\u201d<\/p>\n

Brett didn\u2019t say anything; he only groaned in agony. A whimper escaped him; then he felt the force of the floor as Snider gave a brutal shove. He lay there, groaning, carpet pressed to his cheek as he watched Snider scoop up the pistol and walk away.<\/p>\n

Jimmy came back in the front door and Snider handed off the Beretta, then looked back at Brett.<\/p>\n

\u201cFinish breakfast. I\u2019m hungry.\u201d<\/p>\n

Brett sat up, leaning his aching body against the wall, seething. He touched his nose. Blood.<\/p>\n

His shaking hands clenched.<\/p>\n

Hannah listened intently. They\u2019d done a good job of soundproofing the room, but there was only so much foam and mattresses could keep out. She held her breath, trying to hear more.<\/p>\n

It had sounded like fighting. Shouting mostly, but things hit the walls, shaking the beams down to her shadowy basement.<\/p>\n

There wasn\u2019t much time for her, she supposed. They were getting desperate. What little she could make out from the tone of the shouting told her that. They weren\u2019t going to keep her around much longer. That was certain.<\/p>\n

What was the point? Two decades of living. She was nineteen years old and alone. A college freshman, living in the dorms, failing to adapt. Her roommate liked to drink and liked guys even more\u2014Hannah had come home to find a \u201cdo not disturb\u201d sign hanging from her own door at least once a week all semester, forcing her to sleep on a couch in the downstairs commons. The food in the dining halls was bad, the company worse. All she had wanted was to go home.<\/p>\n

She didn\u2019t want to be a college graduate with a career. All she wanted was to meet a nice man and love him, feed him, raise his children. It was an old-fashioned and na\u00efve desire, all her professors and friends had told her that, but still it was the life she wanted.<\/p>\n

She wanted peace and quiet and love and cookies made for her children\u2014not an education or a life in the fast lane, but her<\/p>\n

grandfather had made her go, wanting her to get a degree in business so she could make the family business more profitable.<\/p>\n

The sensation was in her temples this time\u2014soft images blending one to another.<\/p>\n

Her eighth birthday party.<\/p>\n

She wore a cowgirl hat and boots.<\/p>\n

A chocolate cake with sprinkles.<\/p>\n

The number eight embedded in frosting, a single flame rising from the wick.<\/p>\n

Her friends smiling.<\/p>\n

Her childhood dog, Max, licking her face.<\/p>\n

Bees.<\/p>\n

The stinging all over her.<\/p>\n

Crying in her grandfather\u2019s arms.<\/p>\n

\u2014her grandfather\u2019s arms.<\/p>\n

Hannah lifted her head. She wanted to live.<\/p>\n

Snider dialed the phone.<\/p>\n

\u201cYes?\u201d his employer said across the line.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s me.\u201d<\/p>\n

There was a pause. \u201cWhat do you need?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSome guy started snooping around.\u201d<\/p>\n

Silence.<\/p>\n

\u201cI think it\u2019s time you told me exactly why you hired us to kidnap the girl.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m sorry, but I can\u2019t\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI swear, we\u2019ll kill her now.\u201d<\/p>\n

There was another pause.<\/p>\n

\u201cAre you watching the news?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDo you mean the murdered imam?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAre you guys responsible for that?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWe need control of our situation.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd the girl\u2019s kidnapping provides you with that?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWe\u2019ll double your money.\u201d<\/p>\n

Snider sneered. \u201cWe\u2019re now connected to a politically charged killing. You\u2019ll triple our money, and you\u2019ll have the rest of it for us tonight, because after that we\u2019re sending her back in a garbage bag!\u201d<\/p>\n

Devin\u2019s thoughts floated.<\/p>\n

Confused\u2014in the front seat of the car. The car hood breaking the ice, plunging into the water.<\/p>\n

The windshield cracking\u2014leaking. Breaking. Cold water spilling in.<\/p>\n

Body seizing from the shock. Lungs filling with ice water.<\/p>\n

Devin\u2019s eyes opened\u2014darkness everywhere. His whole world shook as his head slammed into something. How had he gotten here? On his back, in some dark, confined place.<\/p>\n

His world shook again with a jarring slam as he heard the engine rev.<\/p>\n

He was in the trunk of a car.<\/p>\n

It smelled new or at least freshly detailed\u2014like his rental car. He shivered in the chilled trunk as his mind put it all together. It was his rental car. He remembered what had flashed through his mind. They were going to send the car into a lake with him in it, make it look like an accident. But it wouldn\u2019t look like an accident if he was in the trunk. He remembered what he\u2019d seen\u2014<\/p>\n

They weren\u2019t going to leave him in the trunk. How had they gotten him here in the first place?<\/p>\n

Something had pinched him in the neck, hard. There had been some sort of ticking sound and\u2014<\/p>\n

They\u2019d hit him with a Taser, an electrical stun gun. Police and military used them for restraint purposes. He\u2019d had to use one himself on several occasions when he was with intelligence. They were available to private citizens too for self-defense, and he\u2019d been hit with one of those.<\/p>\n

They weren\u2019t going to take any chances. They were going to stun him again for good measure, put him in the front seat, and send him into the lake. He wouldn\u2019t even have to drown. The water was cold enough that the chill would get him first. The shock of it alone would be enough to suck the air from his lungs, cause his muscles to seize. The impact would batter his body, and the breaking glass would slash him to ribbons. The water would cut off his air, choking him to death.<\/p>\n

And if he survived all that, his lungs would fill and burst.<\/p>\n

Brett moved into the living room, his body still sore. The TV was on\u2014the morning news\u2014all about this murdered imam in Ohio.<\/p>\n

Brett watched for a moment and thought.<\/p>\n

They were going to have to get rid of the girl, no matter what Snider said. It was going to have to happen.<\/p>\n

He looked on the ottoman.<\/p>\n

The Beretta.<\/p>\n

Devin fumbled in the dark. He couldn\u2019t find what he was looking for.<\/p>\n

Just the previous summer he\u2019d been led to the trunk of an older-model car where a four-year-old boy had accidentally trapped himself on a sweltering day. He read up on it afterward. He\u2019d learned of the eleven children who had died in the summer of 1998, trapped in the trunks of automobiles. As a result, new standards required the auto manufacturers to have interior release handles inside every trunk manufactured after 2000. Most glowed in the dark with pictographic instructions inscribed on them. Devin saw nothing.<\/p>\n

He searched with his eyes and his fingertips. He couldn\u2019t find the latch. This wasn\u2019t right. The rental was a brand-new car with all the latest safety requirements. They must have removed the safety latch somehow in the fear that he might come to and search for it, exactly as he was doing now.<\/p>\n

There was another option\u2014he could kick out the backseat and find himself face-to-face with his captor, a fight he would have to win against a man who was almost certainly armed.<\/p>\n

He turned back to the trunk latch, feeling with his fingertips.<\/p>\n

Snider stood in the kitchen, touching his forehead. It all gave him a headache\u2014the logistics of it all. It was supposed to be a simple job, not this. The news was playing in the background\u2014some Muslim had been murdered. He rubbed his temples.<\/p>\n

He trusted Jimmy, but it still bothered him to delegate something like ditching a body to him. Why hadn\u2019t he done it himself? Why hadn\u2019t he made sure it was flawless?<\/p>\n

Because, he reminded himself, Brett was the biggest problem they had. Someone needed to keep an eye on that trigger-happy?.?.?.<\/p>\n

Where was Brett, anyway?<\/p>\n

Snider stepped out of the kitchen and looked around. Then his eyes fell on the ottoman.<\/p>\n

The pistol was gone.<\/p>\n

Devin\u2019s fingers glided across the plastic surface of the trunk\u2019s latch cover and found the edges. He worked at the plastic, but his short, manicured fingernails couldn\u2019t work their way underneath.<\/p>\n

He traced the cover farther up. The cover was the size of his hand, roughly the shape of an egg, and at the top he felt two small indentations, one on each side of the release. His fingers worked their way in and the cover came loose. He felt blindly at the mechanism, working at it with his fingers.<\/p>\n

Cold metal and a long, thick wire running the length of the mechanism.<\/p>\n

That\u2019s it, he thought. He pulled. The trunk popped and white light exploded off of the snow, flooding Devin\u2019s eyes.<\/p>\n

An old country road. Trees streaming away on each side.<\/p>\n

He hurled himself out into the snow, rolling with the impact.<\/p>\n

Brett moved to the door, unlocked it, and pushed it open gently.<\/p>\n

There was the girl. She looked up and saw his face. His heart skipped as he tightened his stranglehold on the pistol\u2019s grip behind his back. She\u2019d seen his face. She could identify him.<\/p>\n

Now there was no changing his mind.<\/p>\n

He stepped in, closing the door.<\/p>\n

Jimmy slammed on the brakes as he saw the trunk burst open in his rearview mirror. To the left he saw the man lift himself out of the snow and dash for the trees at the edge of the road.<\/p>\n

The vehicle came to a sliding stop in the snow. He lunged at the passenger\u2019s seat, clawing at a pile of things he\u2019d brought along for cleanup. He snatched the Glock pistol with his rubber-gloved hand and glanced back at the escaping figure in the mirror.<\/p>\n

He launched out of the car door, spinning in a single fluid motion, the handgun resting on the roof of the car as he braced himself to fire.<\/p>\n

Only time for one shot before the man slipped into the trees?.?.?.<\/p>\n

The gun sounded like thunder.<\/p>\n

Snow exploded off the burdened branches of an evergreen, sending white scattering through the air like a starburst. Devin hit the ground and rolled, then quickly scrambled back to his feet and sprinted into the trees.<\/p>\n

Hannah stared at the man. He stared back, hand hiding something behind him.<\/p>\n

He stood there, not moving, as if he were trying to work up the courage to do something. Her mind skimmed across the surface of possibilities. There were only a few options of things he had come for: her body or her life\u2014or both.<\/p>\n

The doorknob at the far end of the room turned, and someone pushed on the door. The man in front of her flinched, then turned around quickly, showing her his back\u2014and the pistol he was holding.<\/p>\n

The door opened.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat are you doing?\u201d Another man, dressed in black, looked around the room.<\/p>\n

\u201cNothing. I was just?.?.?.?\u201d<\/p>\n

Hannah stared at the pistol. She wanted to scream, to tell the second man what she saw, but she couldn\u2019t. She tried to speak, but her voice held in her throat.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou don\u2019t belong in here,\u201d the second man announced.<\/p>\n

The first man nodded. \u201cYou\u2019re right.\u201d As he spoke he tucked the firearm discreetly in his belt and moved toward the door, following the other man.<\/p>\n

Jimmy moved into the trees, lowering his head beneath a branch\u2014eyes sharp and attentive, handgun at the ready. The tracks were clear and distinct in the deep snow.<\/p>\n

Just beyond, the world was darker, the ground shadowed by the canopy of trees. He looked for blood\u2014there was none, but there were gaping tracks in the snow. He pushed on toward his quarry.<\/p>\n

Silence.<\/p>\n

That was all Hannah heard for several moments. Then she heard it, even through the padding\u2014<\/p>\n

Her captors.<\/p>\n

Arguing. Yelling. Shouting.<\/p>\n

Violence?<\/p>\n

She held her breath for a moment then threw her head up, attentive to the noise\u2014<\/p>\n

The gunshot was deafening.<\/p>\n

Devin pressed his back against the tree, his stalker so close he could hear the crunch of snow. He took a long, deep breath\u2014and held it. He had to be completely undetectable, or he was dead.<\/p>\n

Jimmy squinted. Just ahead he saw it\u2014the cloth of a trench coat peeking out from behind a small tree. He took in a breath and stepped gently.<\/p>\n

Carefully. Silently. Agonizing as he placed his feet in the packed snow at the bottom of each track he followed.<\/p>\n

He was getting closer. Rounding the tree. Then his moment\u2014<\/p>\n

Jimmy threw himself forward, the pistol in his hand blasting.<\/p>\n

One\u2014two\u2014three rounds.<\/p>\n

He stopped.<\/p>\n

The coat was empty. Riddled with bullets, it hung from a branch, limp and vacant. Cursing to himself he looked around frantically.<\/p>\n

Something rammed between his shoulder blades, and he went face-first into the snow, pain stabbing at the base of his skull, chest slamming into the icy cold. His vision only went black for a moment.<\/p>\n

He pushed up with a fist then felt an arm swoop around his neck, his chin locking in the cleft of the man\u2019s elbow. Jimmy fought to bite the other man\u2019s arm as he struggled to gain hold with his clawing fingertips. A hand pressed expertly against the base of his skull.<\/p>\n

He threw elbows to the side, punches to the face. He clawed, scratched, and tried to jam a thumb under the man\u2019s eye to put it out. The choke hold only tightened. Jimmy felt his body being thrown as he was fought deeper into submission, forced to his knees, his vision swinging hard to the right\u2014<\/p>\n

He saw it.<\/p>\n

In the snow.<\/p>\n

The pistol.<\/p>\n

He snatched the cold metal, swinging it upward toward the black man\u2019s face.<\/p>\n

One bullet would do\u2014<\/p>\n

The pistol bucked in Jimmy\u2019s hand as a round exploded from the muzzle, firing off into the air as a well-placed strike knocked the weapon away. The other arm continued squeezing, and Jimmy reprised violently.<\/p>\n

Sweat ran down his back, sweet and slick.<\/p>\n

His face burned. Muscles flaming.<\/p>\n

Frustration. Burning rage.<\/p>\n

He fought to bring his restrained arm to bear\u2014the pistol going off again and again and again, blasting away at the snow near their feet.<\/p>\n

He screamed in anger.<\/p>\n

The man he would have murdered was quiet, calculated.<\/p>\n

Jimmy snarled as the weapon was stripped from his hand, tumbling into the snow.<\/p>\n

They both went back, slamming into snow. The air left Jimmy\u2019s lungs and he gasped. The other man\u2019s legs wrapped around his own, holding him down tightly. Trapped.<\/p>\n

How did this happen? He was going to kill this man. In cold blood. But he was losing control, body locked in an expertly executed choke hold.<\/p>\n

He gasped for air. Gray crept into his vision. Sight blurred. Consciousness slipped.<\/p>\n

His world went dark.<\/p>\n

Hannah was bleeding from her wrists, the ropes cutting deep into her soft flesh as she tried to work her way free. Her bruised wrists twisted under the stinging strain of the ropes that bit into her. A trickle of her own warm blood slithered down her finger. It hurt so much, but she just kept working.<\/p>\n

She wanted to live. She wanted to see the sun.<\/p>\n

Footsteps down the hall. Nearing.<\/p>\n

Her work became more rapid, trying harder to free herself from the expertly tied fetters.<\/p>\n

The door opened. She saw a man dressed all in black. He came close, leaning by her ear. Hannah went stiff\u2014except for her lip, which quivered uncontrollably.<\/p>\n

Devin climbed into the silver rental car and looked around. The keys were still in the ignition. He turned them and heard the rush of air\u2014<\/p>\n

The woods. The girl.<\/p>\n

Snider, aiming his pistol deliberately.<\/p>\n

\u201cPlease don\u2019t kill me. Please!\u201d<\/p>\n

The girl, back turned, walking away.<\/p>\n

Death.<\/p>\n

Devin set the sedan into reverse, easing into the gas. He felt the tires grip and begin to slowly roll out of the snow\u2014couldn\u2019t rush it or he\u2019d get stuck. He turned the car around, working the wheel to the left.<\/p>\n

Devin pushed the gearshift forward, locking it in place, and fed the gas. The car began to move forward, gaining speed, then took off, blazing down the snowy road. His eyes glanced at the dashboard\u2014a mile ticked over faster than it should have for the conditions. Then another. And another.<\/p>\n

\u201cPlease don\u2019t kill me. Please!\u201d<\/p>\n

The words played over again in his mind, frantic and desperate.<\/p>\n

He was driving much, much too fast for the conditions. The back end slipped, and he adjusted the gearshift. The car was fishtailing. Too fast, he thought again, but he had no choice now. No other option. Not now. Not with the future racing toward him.<\/p>\n

He recognized the landscape. From the other side, but this was it: his turn was just ahead, where he\u2019d hit the drift before.<\/p>\n

Devin\u2019s fist wrenched the emergency brake skyward.<\/p>\n

He spun the wheel.<\/p>\n

The car snapped to a ninety-degree angle, sliding to a stop\u2014right in front of the long drive.<\/p>\n

First gear. The sedan leapt into action.<\/p>\n

The engine snarled.<\/p>\n

Second gear. He laid into the gas.<\/p>\n

Over a small hill.<\/p>\n

The house ahead.<\/p>\n

Like the chiming of a bell announcing the drawing of midnight, the words repeated in his mind:<\/p>\n

\u201cPlease don\u2019t kill me. Please!\u201d<\/p>\n

No more time. The future was becoming the present.<\/p>\n

The gas pedal touched the floor. The car began to fishtail, the front end nosing to the right. Devin overcorrected as control of the car slipped away from him. He fought the vehicle as he felt it tipping inexorably out of control. Something slipped beneath the car, the tires losing all traction\u2014he was completely out of control, the car swerving perpendicular to the long drive. His foot pumped the brake, but the wheels were no longer propelling the car, only the force of gravity pulling him down the incline\u2014screaming across a layer of slippery packed snow\u2014careening toward a tall embankment at the end of<\/p>\n

the drive.<\/p>\n

Devin braced for impact, and his entire body shuddered as the silver sedan plowed into the drift. The seat belt snapped tight, constricting against his chest as the force of the blow threatened to throw him out the far side of the car. The shock wave subsided, and he reached for the door handle with a disoriented hand.<\/p>\n

Devin threw the door open and got out, Glock pistol in hand\u2014raised in anticipation of trouble.<\/p>\n

He stared down the iron sights at the front door of the house, only feet away. Devin moved from the car with purpose and speed, eyes locked on the front door, weapon held out in front of him as he moved up the steps.<\/p>\n

Devin turned the door handle and gave a hearty kick, sending the door flinging in. He charged across the threshold and paused, weapon ready, arms locked in place, body turning with the pistol. He moved in.<\/p>\n

Left turn\u2014one sharp movement as he glared down the iron sights.<\/p>\n

Nothing.<\/p>\n

To the right\u2014same.<\/p>\n

Devin moved into the kitchen. On the counter was a black and white monitor\u2014a room. Chair, bonds\u2014that was where he\u2019d seen the girl\u2014but the room was empty.<\/p>\n

Then he saw it\u2014something more shocking. Next to the monitor was a lapel pin. A royal crest\u2014he recognized the symbol. The Trinity knot\u2014a triquetra\u2014under a crenulated label: the sign of the Firstborn.<\/p>\n

No color\u2014simply the symbol itself. It didn\u2019t have any of the distinctive colors: the red of the Domani, the gold of the Ora, or the blue of the Prima. But it was the symbol of the Firstborn\u2014that was simple enough to see. And more disturbing than anything else he could consider.<\/p>\n

A cool draft played against his cheek, and he turned. The sliding glass door was slightly ajar. Devin moved forward, looked through the glass at the distant trees\u2014<\/p>\n

And saw them.<\/p>\n

Hannah screamed again.<\/p>\n

Snider shoved her into the trees. She fell down, and he reached for her, grabbing her hair roughly with a fist.<\/p>\n

\u201cDo not make my life more difficult than it has to be. Do you understand?\u201d<\/p>\n

She quavered.<\/p>\n

\u201cDo you understand?\u201d<\/p>\n

Hannah nodded, and he pulled her to her feet. They kept walking, deeper and deeper into the trees.<\/p>\n

Snider stopped in a clearing, a hundred yards beyond the tree line. She went to her knees. He lowered himself down to her ear, whispering.<\/p>\n

\u201cThat way,\u201d he said, pointing deeper into the trees. \u201cStart walking that way, and don\u2019t look back.\u201d<\/p>\n

She turned and looked at him. Her first thought was that he was letting her go, then she looked him in the eye and felt\u2014<\/p>\n

He\u2019d killed before\u2014<\/p>\n

A deal gone bad.<\/p>\n

A job gone wrong.<\/p>\n

Intimidation gone too far.<\/p>\n

To survive in prison.<\/p>\n

To repay a debt.<\/p>\n

For money.<\/p>\n

For safety.<\/p>\n

For revenge.<\/p>\n

For convenience?.?.?.<\/p>\n

She saw it all\u2014<\/p>\n

He was going to kill her too.<\/p>\n

\u201cGet up.\u201d His voice soft but stern.<\/p>\n

She stood and looked into his face. \u201cPlease don\u2019t. Please don\u2019t kill me. I won\u2019t tell anyone. I promise.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cStart walking,\u201d he said flatly, \u201cand don\u2019t turn around.\u201d<\/p>\n

She held for a moment.<\/p>\n

\u201cNow.\u201d<\/p>\n

Hannah turned slowly, facing the snowy trees ahead of her, and began to walk. One foot in front of another, waiting expectantly for it to happen any moment. She turned her head, saw the man in the corner of her eye still standing there, pistol in hand.<\/p>\n

\u201cKeep going,\u201d he instructed.<\/p>\n

Another step. Another moment of life.<\/p>\n

Another step\u2014<\/p>\n

Crack!<\/p>\n

Her entire body went stiff and she looked down\u2014she\u2019d stepped on a twig.<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s good.\u201d<\/p>\n

She stopped, turning back to Snider.<\/p>\n

\u201cI didn\u2019t tell you to turn around,\u201d he reprimanded, as if she were a child. As she looked back into the trees she sucked air, slowly.<\/p>\n

She looked at the trees. So beautiful. The snow and the early-morning sun. Her heart slowed. Her muscles relaxed. If this was going to be the last thing she ever saw, she was going to embrace it.<\/p>\n

Days in a dark basement had driven her back to the faith of her childhood; now it filled her entire heart and mind.<\/p>\n

She was coming home.<\/p>\n

The gunshot was loud, hammering in her temples as if a hole had been punched in her eardrums. A single round fired in the stillness of the snow, echoing endlessly through the trees.<\/p>\n

Snow dropped from branches. Birds took off into flight. And the blast rolled through the world.<\/p>\n

She stood for a moment, waiting to feel it, but all she felt was the chill in her feet and in her lungs. Hannah looked down. No wound.<\/p>\n

Slowly she turned around and saw Snider clutching his chest, bleeding from a steaming wound. He coughed, face confused, and a trickle of blood ran down his lip. The man hit his knees and went face-first into the snow.<\/p>\n

The body lay there, steam rising from the hot wound. Beyond stood a man\u2014tall, handsome, black skin\u2014a pistol in hand raised expertly, face blank, a single twist of smoke rising from the muzzle of the weapon.<\/p>\n

He approached Snider\u2019s body, weapon pointed down, kicking the Beretta pistol away. Kneeling down, he checked for a pulse. When he was satisfied, he put his own weapon on safety and looked up at Hannah.<\/p>\n

\u201cAre you hurt?\u201d<\/p>\n

She shook her head.<\/p>\n

\u201cGood.\u201d Then he took her by the arm and led her away.<\/p><\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

It is time for a FIRST Wild Card Tour book review! If you wish to join the FIRST blog alliance, just click the button. We are a group of reviewers who tour Christian books. A Wild Card post includes a brief bio of the author and a full chapter from each book toured. The reason […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"","_et_pb_old_content":"","_et_gb_content_width":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[8],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-1469","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-books"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1469","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=1469"}],"version-history":[{"count":5,"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1469\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1479,"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1469\/revisions\/1479"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=1469"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=1469"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=1469"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}