Free Stolen Secrets by Jerry B. Jenkins, Chris Fabry Page B

was not right.
    An inside page carried an interview with Mr. Ingram and a picture of him. He held a picture of his son and looked sad.
    There was nothing in the story about Danny’s accident, but it did call him “troubled.”
    The reporter asked Mr. Ingram if he believed his son had hurt the two girls.
    “I can’t imagine that, but I have to believe their story,” Mr. Ingram said. “But if you knew my son a few years ago, if you would have seen how hard he worked and how kind he was, you wouldn’t believe he could do this. He was a wonderful student. He was creative and enjoyed sports. He climbed mountains and once won a contest for imitating animal calls. I just hope we get him home before something happens to him.”

Chapter 60

    After dinner I went to my room and closed the door. The letter felt like a nuclear bomb. I was afraid Sam would empty my pockets and say he knew I was going through his stuff. He seemed to know everything.
    The brown envelope smelled musty. A weird stamp in the corner had foreign writing—it must have been German. I didn’t know Lynn Vickers or Marshall Faulkner, so I wondered if Sam had bought the desk used and the letter wasn’t even his.
    I opened the letter carefully and pulled out a card. On the outside was a picture of a cute puppy with its head low to the ground. Beside him was somebody holding a gun.
    The card read, “Have a happy birthday or I shoot the dog.”
    I laughed. Then I read the note inside.
    Dear Lynn,
    Just sitting here thinking of you and how much I wish I could be there to help you celebrate. I’m X-ing the days off my calendar for when I return stateside.
    I still can’t believe we’re getting married. That you would have me as your husband makes me the happiest man in the world. I hope you haven’t had second thoughts. :)
    Training is almost over and I can’t wait to see you. I carry your picture with me every minute of the day. (The other guys are jealous when they see it, by the way.)
    I’ll toast you on the morning of your birthday.
    All my love,
    Marshall
    I put the card back in the envelope and slipped it into my pocket. The writing looked like Sam’s. Could Marshall be his nickname? Or was it someone else? And who was Lynn?
    Worse, what if Mom found out about this?

Chapter 61

    After helping Mom get Dylan to bed—he was wearing one of Leigh’s hats and Bryce’s basketball shorts—I went back to my room. The full moon shone on the red rocks, looking creepy and beautiful at the same time.
    I opened my diary, lit my candle, and pulled out my Bible. I try to have devotions at least once a day, reading from the Bible and writing my thoughts. Mom had given me a book of thoughts by a Christian singer, but I couldn’t relate to a lot of it. The singer talked about “trials” and “disappointments,” but when I read closer it was more about a dog that had surgery or a house addition that took too long. When your dad is killed in a plane crash, that’s a real trial.
    I glanced out the window and noticed something moving in the barn.
    A lone figure stepped out, closed the door, then started running toward the rocks.

Chapter 62

    Ashley burst into my room and grabbed my arm. “Come on.”
    I followed as she raced downstairs.
    Mom stuck her head out of her office and asked where we were going.
    “Showing Bryce something,” Ashley said, then banged out the kitchen door.
    She ran toward the barn, and it took me a few seconds to catch up. “I don’t think he did it,” she said.
    “Who did what?”
    “Danny. I don’t think he attacked Tracy and Cammy.”
    “They’re lying?”
    She ran into the barn and hopped on the Ashleymobile. “Follow me.”

Chapter 63

    I roared out of the barn, Bryce right behind me. We usually don’t drive much after dark, especially on the bumpy land behind us, but this was the only way we’d catch up with the guy. All the stuff missing from the freezer and Sam’s fridge—it made sense now.
    We drove almost all