Free Critical Impact by Linda Hall Page A

luck.
    He had to admit that he was worried about Marg. Since the bombing, she’d been acting strangely. Anna had told him that Marg had been listening in on their conversation and also that Lois had told Marg that the bombing was God’s judgment. He wondered about Marg’s friendship with Lois. Perhaps that wasn’t the wisest friendship in the world. But was there anything he could do about it? Probably not.
    Now that Anna was home, he was worried about her, too. He wondered about her, too. So far, he didn’t think she had anything to do with what went on, but Lorraine’s words, and Marg’s accusation, continued to haunt him. He thought of that entirely windowed room that Anna was sleeping in. Anyone wanting to get in the cottage would merely have to punch the glass in.Yet, short of putting bars on the windows, there was little they could do. Was Anna safe there? Had the bomb been meant for her? Had Peter Remington been involved? Where was that guy and why couldn’t Stu and Liz find him?
    Restlessly, he stood at his window and gazed out in the direction of Anna’s mother’s place and prayed for her safety, prayed for direction in the case.
    Inside, even though it was late evening, he sent her a text message. Just checking to make sure you’re okay.
    A few minutes later his phone vibrated. She wrote—I’m fine. Thanks for asking.
    He texted back—Be careful. Keep your doors locked.
    She wrote—I don’t think my mother ever locks her doors. This is Whisper Lake Crossing, you know.
    He wrote—That’s what I’m worried about.
    Â 
    Anna liked it that Stu was worried enough to text her at ten-fifteen just to make sure she was okay. She didn’t have the heart to tell him that she’d been sleeping. Her cell phone vibrated and its vibration on the bedside table had awakened her.
    This was her first night away from the hospital. No night nurse would be a call button away. So before she went to bed, she made sure her water glass was filled and that her two pain pills were right next to it, alongwith the bell that she was to ring if she needed her mother. So far she hadn’t needed to take the pills.
    She lay back down and soon fell asleep. A short while later she woke up, and thought she saw the shadow of a figure enter her room.
    She closed her eyes and when she opened them again the figure was gone. It was just a dream, she told herself. Just like in the hospital, probably brought on by the medication she was taking. Except she was taking different pain pills now, ones that weren’t nearly as strong. Still, she had been through a lot and the doctor told her it might be a while before she got over the trauma of the bombing. Bad dreams and nightmares could be a part of the aftermath.
    She prayed and fell back to sleep.
    When she woke up again, her arm ached. Perhaps she had slept on it wrong. She tried to ignore the pain. Tried to pray through it, but she couldn’t. She would have to break down and take the medication.
    She leaned up on her left side and flicked on her bedside lamp. Her water glass was empty. She stared at it. She was positive she had filled it before she went to bed. Did she drink it in the middle of the night? Or spill it? She leaned over and looked on the nightstand. No puddle of water. She looked down beside her. No water on the floor, either. The pills were missing, too. She suddenly realized that her bell was gone. How could that be?
    She got up, pulled her robe around her as best shecould and got down on her hands and knees. The bell wasn’t under the bed. Neither were the pills.
    By now the pain in her arm was excruciating. She remembered what the nurse had told her. Don’t try to skimp on pain pills. Don’t be brave. Take them if you need them.
    With her empty glass in hand, she groped her way into the bathroom. Because Lois’s door was open, Anna didn’t want to turn on the hall lights. But that