A Cry from the Dust by Carrie Stuart Parks

Author:Carrie Stuart Parks
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: ebook
Publisher: Thomas Nelson
Published: 2014-05-31T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER

SEVENTEEN

ROBERT PUT A HAND OVER HIS FOREHEAD AND opened his mouth, undoubtedly to yell at me, but I was just getting started. The hot flash shot up my chest, and I knew my face would turn beet red. I jabbed my finger at him. “Irresponsible? I’m irresponsible? What about you? You’re not some jet-setting playboy, you’re a father. And your daughter needs you! I know you don’t care what happens to me, but if I’m murdered because of some—some crazed religious group, you’ll have a daughter to raise by yourself.”

I spun toward Mike, who looked like he’d rather be on the moon. “And you! I don’t know what your plan is, but it had better include protection for my family and friend until you catch these guys.”

He glanced away from me and rubbed his nose.

“Wait a minute.” I rested my fists on my hips. “What aren’t you telling me?”

“I didn’t say anything,” Mike said.

“You don’t have to, pal.” Robert glared at Mike. “She reads body language like a book.”

The two faced each other.

Like a headline running across a newspaper, I remembered Mike’s words, “We need to set several traps and bait them.” The first trap would be the sculpture, but what if the feds couldn’t catch them? Once the Avenging Angels saw the sculpture and realized the “item” displayed with it wasn’t their prize, they’d keep hunting for the treasure. The item they believed Ethan gave to me. I’m the second trap.

But my family had to be far, far away from here. The Avenging Angels watched this house.

I glanced at the drawn blinds.

Mike said transporting the sculpture was safe. If Beth and Aynslee delivered it, they’d be clear of here. “Robert, you’re driving this reconstruction to Seattle. You’re taking Beth, Aynslee, and Winston with you, and you will protect them.”

“Hardly. You’re not putting that slobbering dog in my new Porsche—”

“You’ll leave your precious Porsche here. You can take my car.”

He stomped from the room.

“And Winston doesn’t slobber,” I yelled after him.

A creak and bang told me Robert had pulled down the folding attic stairs. I soon heard him thumping around overhead.

Mike cautiously sidled toward the door. He gave me a speculative glance before leaving.

I picked up some clay and settled down on my stool, hoping my busy hands would slow my racing pulse.

Beth cleared her throat. “Not all fireworks occur on the Fourth of July.”

Aynslee dashed into the room. “What did you say to Dad?”

I stared at my daughter and then at my friend. The Avenging Angels wouldn’t stop until they found their holy grail and took revenge on those who had secreted it away. I stretched my lips over my teeth in what I hoped was a reasonable smile. “Robert agreed to drive you two, the sculpture, and Winston to the Peace Conference. Won’t that be fun?”

“Winston?” Beth asked.

“There’s no time to find a boarding kennel. He’s crate-trained. You can leave him in your hotel room while you attend. I have a folding, nylon mesh crate you can use.” I didn’t want to point out that Winston was a terrific watchdog.

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