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  ROMANTIC TIMES PRAISES NEWYORK TIMES BESTSELLING AUTHOR

  BOBBI SMITH!

  “Bobbi Smith is a terrific storyteller whose wonderful characters, good dialogue and compelling plot will keep you up all night.”

  “Ms. Smith’s memorable cast of characters and secondary plot lines are what make her a truly wonderful storyteller.”

  AWARDS:

  Romantic Times Storyteller of the Year

  Romantic Times Career Achievement

  CRITICS RAVE FOR HAVEN!

  “Haven is a wonderful book. The story is multifaceted and gripping. It delivers a powerful message of God’s love and care to each one of us no matter where we are in our walk with Him.”

  —Bestselling Author Debbie Macomber

  “Haven is, by far, one of the best Inspirational novels I have read this year. The story starts out running and doesn’t stop until the very last word, leaving you with feelings of peace and contentment and basking in God’s glow. Haven is a guaranteed one-of-a-kind novel that will stand out in your memory for years and is the perfect addition to your keeper shelf to read again and again.”

  —Romance Reviews Today (A Perfect 10)

  “The author delivers a thoroughly enjoyable read, with high stakes for the appealing characters.”

  —Romantic Times

  “Haven is an in-depth look at human emotion. I could not put this story down.”

  —Writers Unlimited

  Other books by Bobbi Smith:

  HALFBREED WARRIOR

  BRAZEN

  BAYOU BRIDE

  HUNTER’S MOON

  FOREVER AUTUMN

  LONE WARRIOR

  EDEN

  WANTON SPLENDOR

  SWEET SILKEN BONDAGE

  THE HALF-BREED (SECRET FIRES)

  WESTON’S LADY

  HALF-BREED’S LADY

  OUTLAW’S LADY

  FORBIDDEN FIRES

  RAPTURE’S RAGE

  THE LADY &THE TEXAN

  RENEGADE’S LADY

  KISS ME FOREVER

  THE LADY’S HAND

  LADY DECEPTION

  The Brides of Durango series:

  ELISE

  TESSA

  JENNY

  As Julie Marshall:

  HAVEN

  BOBBI SMITH

  writing as JULIE MARSHALL

  MIRACLES

  DORCHESTER PUBLISHING

  Published by

  Dorchester Publishing Co., inc.

  200 Madison avenue

  New York, NY 10016

  Copyright © 2006 by Bobbi smith

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, without the written permission of the publisher, except where permitted by law. The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Trade ISBN: 978-1-4285-1868-1

  E-book ISBN: 978-1-4285-0325-0

  First Dorchester Publishing, Co., Inc. edition: February 2006

  The “DP” logo is the property of Dorchester Publishing Co., Inc.

  Printed in the United States of America.

  Visit us online at www.dorchesterpub.com.

  Contents

  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

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  This book is dedicated to Carter David.

  You’re the perfect grandson!

  My thanks to handsome Harry Spiller,

  ex-sheriff and current Associate Professor of

  Criminal Justice at John A. Logan College in

  Carterville, IL, and at SIU-Carbondale and author

  of the Murder in the Heartland book series (as seen

  on Forensic Files) for his help with

  law enforcement research.

  Thanks, too, to Leann and

  her handsome husband, Sam Orrico,

  and Amy Templer and her handsome husband,

  Michael Williams, for their help with

  Harley-Davidson research.

  Thanks to Betty Murr

  of the St. Charles City-County Library District.

  You’re wonderful!

  MIRACLES

  THE TERROR GROWS

  THREE DEAD IN THREE WEEKS

  POLICE STILL BAFFLED IN SEARCH FOR

  DEADLY HIGHWAY SNIPER

  The main headline of The Daily Sun and the article that followed criticized the police and their lack of success in arresting the killer. The sniper read the article and smiled. He enjoyed learning that the authorities were no closer to identifying him.

  He knew they would never catch him.

  He was too smart for them.

  Satisfied that all was well in the world, he carefully folded the paper so as not to crease the headline, and then set it aside. He would read it again later.

  Chapter One

  The Lord Be With You . . .

  Seventy-two-year-old George Taylor quietly entered Holy Family Church and slipped into a pew halfway up the main aisle. The beauty of the old church never failed to move him. The statues and the altar were glorious to behold, and at this early-morning hour, the sun shining through the stained-glass windows bathed the interior in a rainbow of vibrant colors. It was heavenly there, truly peaceful, and just now George needed some peace.

  Kneeling down, George bowed his head in prayer. The week before, he hadn’t been feeling well and had gone in to see his doctor. He’d thought he had just a virus or something that was going around, but after checking him over, Dr. Murray had ordered several tests to be done. And tomorrow the results would be back. George hoped they would show he was fine, but he had his doubts. He’d been feeling so poorly these last few days.

  George finished praying and sat back in the pew. He glanced around to see who else had come for the seven a.m. Mass. It wasn’t very crowded, maybe thirty-five or forty people, but then, that was normal for an early weekday Mass like this one. He noticed Lydia Chandler, a friend from his prayer group, sitting across the aisle a few pews ahead of him. She was an attractive young woman who worked at one of the newspapers in town. He liked Lydia a lot, and he knew he’d seek her out and say hello when Mass was over.

  “Please stand,” Father Richards announced, drawing everyone’s attention, “and let’s sing the Entrance Antiphon together, Number 224 in the hymnal, ‘God Is Calling Me.’ ”

  George stood and joined in the singing as the pastor made his wa
y down the main aisle to the altar.

  Lydia watched Father Richards pass by, but she didn’t bother trying to sing. When she was in sixth grade, her teacher had convinced her she had no talent for singing by telling her she was off-key right in front of the whole class. The embarrassment had stayed with her through the years and kept her very humble where her singing ability was concerned.

  But singing wasn’t even on Lydia’s mind as she concentrated on the Mass and listened to the readings and Father’s homily. She had come to Mass because she needed God’s help to cope with everything that was going on in her life. The newspaper she worked for as a reporter, The Daily Sun, had been sold the year before. The new owners had brought in Gary Newman as the managing editor, and under Gary’s management, things had really changed—and not for the better. Gary was concerned only with the bottom line. He’d cut jobs and laid longtime employees off without warning. When one of their best reporters, a man who’d been with the paper for years, confronted Gary one day, he had fired him on the spot.

  It was an ugly time at The Daily Sun, but Lydia was determined to stick it out. She loved her job as a reporter. She loved searching for the truth, digging up the facts and covering breaking stories. The scary part was, she was twenty-nine and single, and had no one to look out for her. That was why she was at Mass this morning, praying for the strength and wisdom she needed to deal with the uncertain situation at the office.

  “Let us offer each other the sign of peace,” Father Richards said.

  Peace is just what I need, Lydia thought as she shook hands with the people in the pews close to her and then looked around to smile at the others in attendance. It was then she spotted George. He nodded to her in greeting, and her smile broadened. He was a dear, dear man, and she loved him a lot. She hadn’t seen him for a while, and she was looking forward to saying hello after Mass.

  It came time for Communion, and everyone filed forward to receive the sacrament. Returning to her pew, Lydia knelt down and bowed her head. Again, she prayed for the strength and wisdom she needed to get through the challenging times ahead.

  When Mass was over, Lydia found George waiting for her in the greeting area.

  “How are you?” she asked, giving George a warm hug and a kiss on the cheek.

  “Fine, now that I’ve had a kiss from a pretty girl,” he told her with a grin as they started to walk out to the parking lot together. “What a wonderful way to start my day!”

  “You are such a charmer.”

  “I just tell the truth, that’s all.”

  “Are you ready for prayer group tonight?”

  “I’m looking forward to it. It’ll be fun to see everybody again.” He enjoyed the social aspect of their prayer meetings.

  “What’s the topic for this session?”

  “I believe we’re covering the Ten Commandments.”

  “That should be interesting.”

  “I’ll see you tonight,” George told her as they reached her car.

  “You stay out of trouble today,” she said with a laugh.

  He laughed with her. “I’ll try, but as wild as I am, sometimes it’s not easy.”

  George stood back and waited as Lydia got in her car and started up the engine. He waved when she drove off, then headed for his own car. He thought about going out for breakfast somewhere, but he was feeling a little tired already this morning so he decided to just go home.

  Lydia drove toward the newspaper office, as ready as she would ever be for another day working for Gary. She knew she would be early, but she was hoping to have some quiet time to get caught up on her work before everyone else came in. She was surprised when she discovered Gary was already at work in his office.

  Gary looked up from his desk when he saw Lydia come in. He immediately went out to speak with her.

  “I just got word that Captain Donovan is going to hold a press conference about the sniper shootings at ten o’clock this morning down at police headquarters,” he informed her.

  “Have they learned anything new?”

  “Not that I could get out of him. I want you to cover it. Find out why they haven’t caught this guy yet. This murderer has killed three people in three weeks, and the police still don’t have any idea who he is! What kind of police work is that? Ask the tough questions. Find out what they know and what they don’t know. Surely there are tips coming in on that sniper hot line they set up. See if you can learn if there have been any reliable leads. The public needs to know what the police are doing to stop this menace.”

  “I’ll see what I can find out.”

  “You do that.”

  Gary turned and walked away without another word.

  It wasn’t far to police headquarters from the newspaper office, so Lydia was able to work at her desk for a little longer before she had to leave for the press conference. When she arrived at headquarters she found the room designated for the conference crowded with reporters from all the different media in town. Everyone was waiting anxiously for Captain Donovan to come in and address them. When the captain finally made his entrance, he went to stand at the lectern. All the lights, cameras and microphones were turned on and ready for him.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, I’d like to read a statement first, and then I’ll take your questions. Our investigation into the three unsolved murders is ongoing. As you know, the same weapon was used in all three shootings. Two witnesses of the second shooting reported seeing a dark green, four-door sedan in the area around the same time, but they were unable to identify the make or model of the vehicle, and they had no license plate information. Our hot line here at police headquarters is open twenty-four hours a day, and we are following up on every lead phoned in. We are doing everything we can to make an arrest as quickly as possible.” Captain Donovan paused and looked out at the sea of reporters. “Now I’ll take your questions—”

  Everyone started shouting at once. The captain held up his hands to try to slow down the verbal barrage aimed at him.

  “One at a time, please. Miss Chandler—”

  “Are any of the leads that have been phoned in promising?”

  “As I said, people have been calling in,” he repeated, refusing to elaborate, “and we are following up on all calls. If anything does develop, the press will be notified.”

  He called on another reporter.

  “Do you have any likely suspects?”

  “Not at this time.”

  “What are you doing regarding the car? Have you taken any action to follow up on that tip?”

  “We are looking into it.”

  “ ‘Looking into it’ is great,” the reporter from one radio station said sarcastically, “but what steps are you actually taking, Chief? Are you pulling over all the dark green, four-door sedans in town and checking them out?”

  The captain began to look irritated. “If that’s what it ultimately takes to find this killer, then that’s what we’ll do. We’ll check every green sedan. Our job is to keep the public safe.”

  “Were the victims connected in any way? Did they have anything in common?” Lydia asked without waiting to be called on.

  “So far, the only thing we’ve found that the victims have in common, is that they had nothing in common.”

  “So these are totally random acts of violence like the D.C. sniper?” a reporter from the other local paper, The Evening News, asked.

  “I’m afraid so.”

  “If you’re afraid, Chief, what hope do the rest of us have?” Lydia challenged pointedly.

  Captain Donovan glared at her, his growing irritation obvious. “Our police force is one of the finest in the state. Our officers work hard, twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week to protect the citizens of this town, and they do a fine job of it.”

  “Tell that to the families of the three victims!” a reporter from one of the television stations shouted out, deliberately trying to provoke him to get his reaction on camera.

  It worked.

  Captain Donovan
turned a hate-filled glare on the newsman and abruptly ended the press conference. “That’s all for today. You’ll be notified of any new developments.”

  He turned and walked out of the room, ignoring all the other questions being shouted at him as he went.

  Lydia wasted no time. She hurried back to the office to fill Gary in on what had transpired. She just wished there had been more concrete information available, so The Daily Sun could get the word out to the public. If the leads were really that few, though, it was no wonder the captain had been so short-tempered and walked out on the press.

  Gary was watching for Lydia and confronted her the moment she walked into the office.

  “What did you find out?” he demanded.

  “Captain Donovan was not a happy man this morning.”

  “Who cares about Donovan! What have you got on the sniper?” he snapped.

  “The only real clue they’re willing to talk about is a car.” She told him what little the investigators knew about the suspected vehicle. “But no one really knows for sure that the dark green sedan is actually involved.”

  “So, basically, you’re telling me that our headline from yesterday was right on target: Police Still Baffled in Search for Deadly Highway Sniper.”

  “It looks that way for right now. Captain Donovan walked out on us.”

  “A little irritated, was he?”

  “Yes, but I have faith in the department.”

  “You’re probably the only one in town who does, right now,” Gary derided.

  “They’re going to catch the shooter.”

  “But how many more dead bodies are going to be littering the city streets before they do?”

  “The sniper is bound to make a mistake,” Lydia argued, “and when he does, the cops will be ready and waiting for him.”

  “We hope.”

  Lydia didn’t bother to respond as Gary turned away and went back in his office. She sat down at her desk and got to work. She had another meeting to cover at two o’clock; she had to get her notes from the press conference written up and on Gary’s desk before it was time to go.