Hush in the Storm Read online

  Hush in the Storm

  Julie B. Cosgrove

  Copyright 2014 JULIE B. COSGROVE

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  Cover Art by Joan Alley

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are the product of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

  Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded, or distributed via the Internet or any other means without the permission of Prism Book Group. Please purchase only authorized editions and do not participate in the electronic piracy of copyrighted material. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Scripture taken from the Holy Bible, King James Version.

  Published by Prism Book Group

  ISBN-10: 1940099773 ISBN-13: 978-1-940099-77-4

  Published in the United States of America

  Contact info: [email protected]

  http://www.prismbookgroup.com

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Hush in the Storm

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  PRAISE FOR HUSH IN THE STORM

  PART ONE

  Death and Life

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  PART TWO

  Life After Death

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Don’t miss Legitimate Lies by Julie B Cosgrove, available now from Prism Book Group!

  CHAPTER ONE

  POSTSCRIPT

  REFERENCES

  ENDNOTES

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  PRAISE FOR HUSH IN THE STORM

  “Hush in the Storm by Julie B. Cosgrove is a tough but compelling read about a woman spirited away into the darkness and harsh reality of human trafficking. In addition to her terror and confusion over this split-second turn in her life is the unspeakable horror that perhaps someone very close to her is involved in her nightmare. This is a page-turner that will not only entertain but also inform and educate on a topic relevant to our time and culture.” Kathi Macias (www.kathimacias.com) is an award-winning writer of more than 40 books, including Deliver Me from Evil.

  “Suspense and romance touches the shadowy underworld of human trafficking. A recent widow is kidnapped and her death faked, supposedly for her own good. But if she’s really a widow, why does she keep hearing her husband's voice? Julie B. Cosgrove weaves a tale that both shocks and informs. Hush in the Storm will keep you reading late into the night.” Mary Hamilton, author of the best selling Rustic Knoll Bible Camp Series

  “Wow. After reading the first seven pages, all I can say is that. Love your imagery. Fiction is definitely your genre.” Gwen McKone, author of God Up Close and Personal

  “How profound your thoughts are and how amazing your writing is. Julie, I only put in a few WOW expressions. If I stopped to tell you all the places I admired, I would not be finished with your edits for days. You over and over surprise me with your insightful ways of expressing yourself.” Sandy Wright, North Texas Christian Writers editor and critique expert

  “Julie Cosgrove’s new novel Hush in the Storm is the compelling story of a woman’s journey through tragedy, betrayal, and triumph as the heroine addresses issues of grief, love, and modern day slavery. A must read.” Joy Brooks, Prayer for Freedom, Fort Worth, Texas

  Dedicated to

  All who hear the hushing roar of pain in the storms of life.

  There is hope…and peace.

  PART ONE

  Death and Life

  Widowed at thirty-one, Jen clings to her humdrum job as a buoy against the swells of grief until a coworker, Tom, kidnaps her and fakes her death at the request of her late husband…or so Tom says.

  CHAPTER ONE

  An eerie thought pressed a clammy hand upon my shoulder. What if all you thought was true never actually was?

  Widowed unexpectedly at thirty-one, I naturally longed for what could never be again. Regrets and what-if mantras swirled daily through my mind. I’d learned to push them aside. But this sudden, unsolicited notion surged an icy-hot chill through my body.

  My logical side chided me. Don’t be silly, Jen. Of course it was true. The diamond band on my left hand glimmered with proof. Robert had cherished me, married me, spent five loving years with me…that one night didn’t mean a thing.

  I shuddered off the question and leaned in to review the balance sheets my boss had emailed.

  But the bizarre suggestion whispered once more in the back of my thoughts just loud enough to keep me from concentrating. The numbers on the page became muddled gibberish. I closed my eyes, sucked in a breath, and tried to focus.

  People passed my desk and said the same things they always did—

  “Hi, Jen. Doing okay?”

  “Sure, I’m fine.”

  “Hey, Jen. Keeping busy? Best thing, ya know.”

  “Yeah.” Always with a forced grin. “Thanks.”

  I fiddled with the little gold cross I always wore around my neck, more out of habit than any indication of piety. I hadn’t perched on a pew in years, except for our wedding day and at Robert’s funeral. But after the latest in the series of sympathizers walked away, I seethed a semi-prayer under my breath. “Dear Lord. Please. Why can’t everyone just leave me alone?”

  I had a job to do. The report was due first thing in the morning. I had to concentrate on the now. Besides, I never wanted to hear the eggshells crack as well-meaning colleagues tiptoed around my mourning. I was stronger than that, at least in public.

  One by one, the other workspaces emptied. The buzz of office machines and human chatter diminished until the only sound was the soft hum from the fluorescent lights and the tick of the office clock, like a steady heartbeat.

  At last, a welcomed solitude settled around me in a thick hush. In fact, it was too quiet. I tapped my pencil, then my foot, to dispel it.

  A short, high-pitched ding pierced the silence.

  My heart jumped into my throat. The elevator? The bottom right-hand side of my computer screen flashed 6:05 p.m. It was too early for the janitorial staff. None of the executives or customers ever ventured down to this dingy basement department with no windows and stale, recycled air.

  I swallowed. “Who’s there?”

  Tom stepped out of the elevator, then pushed open the glass door with the stenciled white lettering proclaiming the owners of this windowless dungeon—Abernathy & Smith Accounting Firm.

  “Hey, Jen. Still at it?”

  My heart slid ba
ck into place.

  Drenched to the skin, Tom jabbed his thumb toward an imaginary window. “Did you know it’s storming like crazy out there?”

  My jaw set, making a dental impression in my now tasteless chewing gum. Of all people to show up after hours, why Tom? Those piercing blue eyes unnerved me. Many times over the past few weeks, I’d find his gaze on me. And now, he and I were the only ones left in the department.

  I wanted him to leave—and for these numbers to make sense so I could do the same. I also wanted my life back, but I wasn’t about to discuss that with him, or anyone else for that matter. So I responded with non-interest to his remark. “Really? Raining, huh? Thought maybe you’d walked through the lawn sprinklers.”

  “Cute.” Tom rubbed his dark curls as he peered over my four-foot cubicle divider. Tiny drops of water spattered across my work.

  I swiveled my chair to face him full on and slapped on my office grin. “So, why are you still here in the netherworld making a puddle inside my cubicle?”

  He snorted a quick chuckle. “I forgot my umbrella.”

  “Oh.” Weird that he’d come back for one now when he’s already sopping wet.

  “That’s for tomorrow afternoon’s board meeting, huh?” He nodded toward my corner-angled monitor, flinging a few more droplets in my direction, along with a whiff of citrusy-musk aftershave. The fact that it was my favorite male scent didn’t ease the tension.

  With an eye roll, I wadded up my calculations and tossed them in the direction of the trash can.

  He came around to my side. “You’ve been working at it too long, Jen.”

  I ran my fingers through my bangs. “It has to get done now, doesn’t it?”

  Tom arched an eyebrow.

  I sucked in a deep sigh, and then let it out to a silent count of three. “Sorry, Tom. I’m just a bit frazzled right now.”

  He perched on the edge of my desk. “Which is why you need to leave.”

  He leaned forward to read my computer screen. I scooted my chair over an inch. The second hand on the black-rimmed wall clock across the room went round and round. Why wasn’t he leaving?

  “Tom, look. I hate to be rude but…” I swung away from him to face the paperwork splayed across my desk and tapped my pencil again. “…I need to get back to this so I can get out of here.” I wasn’t eager to get back to an empty apartment, but being alone with this guy was starting to freak me out, especially when I felt him edge closer.

  “Back away from it for the night, Jen. It’s time to go.” His voice took on an authoritative tone.

  I turned, confused. His face softened.

  “Come on. Let’s get outta here and grab a bite to eat.”

  My eyes flew wide. “What?” Oh, no. Was he asking me out? I wasn’t ready…not for anything like that.

  He punched the off button on my monitor.

  A flush of fury warmed my face. How dare he?

  “Jen. Did you hear me? It’s time to go.”

  A hint of brogue, no doubt leftover from some forgone ancestor, twirled the last word on his tongue. They called his type the black Irish—dark hair, crystal blue eyes. Right now his windows into the soul darkened to a deep, steel gray. Stern. Inflexible. Like my eighth-grade biology teacher’s stare when I hadn’t paid attention in class, again. That sort of look always made me buckle.

  “Well...” I glanced to the office wall clock. 6:15. My stomach responded with a silent rumble to remind me I hadn’t stopped for lunch. I loathed eating alone and didn’t feel like whipping up something at home. Even eating with Tom was better than the alternatives. “The janitors will be here in a bit anyway. Can’t concentrate with them vacuuming, emptying the trash bins...”

  His pursed lips curved into a quick grin. “Then let’s go. Bob’s Burgers is close.”

  The longstanding downtown diner served old-fashioned, charcoal-broiled burgers oozing with cheddar cheese. Cholesterol-clogging comfort food did sound good. I grabbed my purse off the back of my chair. “Okay.” I raised my finger. “But we’ll go Dutch.”

  “Whatever.” He raised himself from my desk. “It’s too far to walk in the rain, though. Even with an umbrella.” He gave a sheepish shrug.

  I sighed and dug into my purse. “Where are my keys?”

  Tom dangled them in front of my nose. “Left ’em on your desk. But we should take my car.”

  I shook my head and opened my palm, fingers cupped. “Uh, no. We shouldn’t.”

  “Your choice.” He exhaled through his nostrils, plopped the keys into my hand, and then texted something into his cell phone. I noticed his jaw twitch as he slipped his phone back into his jacket.

  Was it me, or had his mood taken a dark turn? Had I ruffled his male feathers by insisting we go in separate cars and pay Dutch? I made an attempt to smooth things over. “Thanks for the offer, though.”

  “I was just trying to save you...”

  I touched his arm. “Tom, I don’t need saving.”

  One side of his mouth stretched into a smirk. “You sure?”

  At the elevator, he punched the up button. With a swift ding, the steel doors whished open. Acting the cool gentleman I guess, Tom held back the door with his arm to let me pass first.

  I humphed. “Still on this floor. Luck o’ the Irish. This dinosaur usually takes forever.”

  “Probably no one else in the building. Just us two.” His mouth formed that swift grin again.

  Another shoulder-clamp feeling grabbed me. I didn’t really know this guy. He’d only worked in my section for a few months. Could I trust him? Get a grip, Jen. It’s just a cheeseburger.

  Tom’s forefinger hit the “G” button. Awakened, the elevator jerked, moaned, and began its ascent. His attention lifted to the numbers above the door. They lit up. B2, ding, B1…

  There was a jolt, then a bang. The lights went out. We were stuck.

  I sensed his presence move closer to me, invading what little space I had. Oh, no. Don’t make a pass at me. Not here, trapped like this.

  I reached for the gold cross as it flapped against my beating chest. This time, I did pray. Please, God. Please let there be someone else in the building. Still, I doubted if He’d listen. The Lord hadn’t much in the past. Especially the night Robert died. Where was the Almighty then?

  Then, in the semi-darkness, I saw a reddish-white glow illuminating the panic button. I reached to push it, but Tom grabbed my wrist and yanked it down.

  “Don’t press that.”

  My eyebrows knit together. Before I could ask why, his other hand slipped underneath his damp jacket. My eyes followed it. The glimmer of shiny metal reflected off the panic button’s light.

  My heart froze.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Icy dread flashed across my cheeks and spread to my neck. Tom turned to face me. I took two steps backwards. One hand felt for the wall, anything sturdy. The other crunched my blouse.

  “Here. Hold this.” His words, like a sharp bark, echoed in my brain, but my hand refused to register a response.

  He cocked his head and gave me a blunt snort. “Today. Or do you want to stay stuck in here?”

  I blinked. A pocket LED flashlight waved in front of me. That must have been what I saw. Warmth rushed up my neck and back into my face. I relaxed my shoulders and breathed again. “Oh. Thank God. It’s a flashlight.”

  “Well, duh.” He raised an eyebrow.

  Wait a minute. “You were prepared for this?”

  “Yeah, I’m a regular boy scout.” His tone was flat, business like. He shook the cylinder at me again. “Just twist it to the right to click it on.”

  I took it from his fingers, brushing across them with my own. They were warm, rugged. Not the wimpy, cold fish I expected from a fellow accounting clerk.

  He knelt on one knee. “I could see better if you point the light at the buttons.”

  “What? Oh, sure.” I fumbled to aim the beam of light over his shoulder.

  Being stuck here alone with Tom unnerved me
. I decided to placate him. “I’m glad you know what to do.” I let out a nervous, girly chuckle. His face softened into a wink.

  “Watch and learn.” He took his ballpoint pen from his pocket protector and shoved it into the side of the panel. It popped open to reveal a spaghetti bowl of wire. Pen in teeth, Tom began to twist the wires this way and that as he hummed the MacGyver theme song.

  For effect, I hummed along as well.

  With a moan, the geriatric elevator opened its doors. Cool air rushed in. I felt like clapping and throwing my arms around Tom’s neck. Instead I heaved a relieved sigh. “Thanks.”

  “Piece of cake.” He shoved the pen back in his shirt pocket and took the flashlight from my hand. Halfway up the black concrete wall was the ground floor. “Think you can climb up?”

  “Sure. But you go first.” I ran my hands down the sides of my pencil skirt. No free peeks tonight, bud.

  “Okay. Good thinking. Then I can lift you out.”

  His voice sounded downright cheery. Being Mr. Rescue obviously suited him. Come to think of it, he did appear a bit dashing at the moment. And he had brightened my mood with his humor. Maybe he was a decent guy.

  “Better let loose of this.” He slipped my shoulder bag from my arm, zipped the opening, and slung it up and over the elevator wall. Next, the briefly forgotten umbrella hurled like an arrow for a bull’s eye.

  “Ready?” The question was rhetorical. His shoes scuffed until they caught some crack or dent in the concrete. With a grunt, he hauled his body weight up and over the edge. Not bad. Almost cat-like. Who knew?

  I heard footsteps. Then silence. Where had he gone? Surely he wouldn’t leave me? My heart sank to my ankles.

  Seconds later the footsteps returned and his head popped back into view. Black locks dangled into his eyes as they focused on me. He pumped his fingers. “Grab hold.”

  I took hold of his hand with both of mine. His other one clutched the edge of the elevator wall. “One, two, three.” With a steady pull, he raised up. My body followed. My knees scraped the concrete but soon, like a seal sliding out of the tank at Sea World, I slithered up and out onto terra firma.