The Protector Read online

  THE PROTECTOR

  “There are very few books that touch the soul and the heart while trying to deliver an inspiring message, but Ms. Henderson always manages to accomplish this feat.”

  BOOKBROWSER

  “The Protector is dynamic. The love story between its covers captured my heart with its depth. The spiritual truth hit me between the eyes with its simplicity. Only Dee could have written this powerful, can’t-wait-for-the-next-one novel.”

  HANNAH ALEXANDER, author of Sacred Trust, Solemn Oath, and Silent Pledge

  “A page-turner with romance, love, and finely crafted writing that will keep you read ing until the dramatic ending. Two thumbs up!”

  ROMANCECENTRAL.COM

  “A riveting addition to the series!… Dee Henderson’s magical pen combines the allure of Thrillers, Romances, and Christian books to make one of the best series I have ever read!”

  HUNTRESS BOOK REVIEWS (www.huntressreviews.com/thril.htm)

  “The Protector is very exciting with lots of edge of your seat fire-fighting scenes…. I couldn’t put the book down.”

  THE BELLES AND BEAUX OF ROMANCE

  THE TRUTHS EEKER

  “Another fantastic, page-turning mystery by Dee Henderson! Heartwarming romance and exciting drama are her trademark, and they’ll be sure to thrill you a third time!”

  SUITE101.COM

  “Read one book by Dee Henderson, and I guarantee you are gonna be hooked for life!”

  THE BELLES AND BEAUX OF ROMANCE

  “For a complex story and profound statement on Christianity, read The Truth Seeker. “

  THE ROMANCE READERS CONNECTION, INSPIRATIONAL CORNER

  THE GUARDIAN

  “An entertaining thriller-cum-romance-cum-conversion story is what readers get in this fastpaced novel…. Christian readers will relish this intriguing tale.”

  PUBLISHERS WEEKLY

  “More than an investigative thriller, this is a great romance dealing with complex matters of faith.”

  ROMANTIC TIMES MAGAZINE

  “Another exciting new thriller from an up-and-coming talent in Christian fiction.”

  LIBRARY JOURNAL

  THE NEGOTIATOR

  “Sterling romantic suspense.”

  ROMANTIC TIMES MAGAZINE Top Pick

  “Solid storytelling, compelling characters, and the promise of more O’Malleys make Henderson a name to watch. Highly recommended, with a cross-genre appeal.”

  LIBRARY JOURNAL

  “Topnotch writing.”

  SCRIBES WORLD REVIEWS

  DANGER IN THE SHADOWS

  “Dee Henderson had me shivering as her stalker got closer and closer to his victim. The message that we have nothing to fear as long as God is in control was skillfully han dled, but I got scared, anyway! I highly recommend this book to anyone who likes sus pense.”

  TERRI BLACKSTOCK, BEST-SELLING AUTHOR OF Cape Refuge

  “A masterstroke!!… Dee Henderson gives the reader not one but two irresistible heroes.”

  COMPUSERVE REVIEWS

  THE HEALER

  “The Healer is a poignant love story, a five handkerchief reading experience that readers will never be able to forget because it is so beautiful…. Dee Henderson is a brilliant storyteller who constantly writes tales that the audience wants to read.”

  BOOKBROWSER

  “The Healer mesmerized me! A masterful balance of life and death, good and evil is created within these pages, and I could not walk away unchanged. At times all too real, The Healer had me crying, laughing, and wondering ‘what if.’”

  ROMANCEREADERSCONNECTION.COM

  Visit Tyndale’s exciting Web site at www.tyndale.com.

  TYNDALE and Tyndale’s quill logo are registered trademarks of Tyndale House Publishers, Inc.

  The Protector

  Copyright © 2001 by Dee Henderson. All rights reserved.

  Cover photograph of fireman copyright © by Index Stock Imagery. All rights reserved.

  Cover photograph of fire copyright © by Photos.com. All rights reserved.

  Designed by Ron Kaufmann and Dean H. Renninger

  Previously published in 2001 by Multnomah Publishers, Inc. under ISBN 1-57673-846-9.

  Scripture quotations are taken from the Revised Standard Version of the Bible, copyright © 1952 [2nd edition, 1971] by the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the United States of America. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

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

  ISBN 978-1-4143-1059-6

  TITLES BY DEE HENDERSON

  THE O’MALLEY SERIES

  Danger in the Shadows (prequel)

  The Negotiator

  The Guardian

  The Truth Seeker

  The Protector

  The Healer

  The Rescuer

  UNCOMMON HEROES SERIES

  True Devotion

  True Valor

  True Honor

  Kidnapped

  The Witness

  Before I Wake

  For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son,

  that whoever believes in him should not perish but

  have eternal life.

  For God sent the Son into the world,

  not to condemn the world,

  but that the world might be saved through him.

  JOHN 3:16–17

  Contents

  Prologue

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-one

  Twenty-two

  Twenty-three

  Twenty-four

  Twenty-five

  Twenty-six

  Twenty-seven

  Twenty-eight

  Twenty-nine

  Thirty

  Thirty-one

  Thirty-two

  Thirty-three

  Thirty-four

  Thirty-five

  Thirty-six

  Thirty-seven

  Thirty-eight

  Thirty-nine

  Forty

  Forty-one

  Forty-two

  Forty-three

  Forty-four

  Forty-five

  Prologue

  The electricity was out. The candle nightlight on the dresser was barely bright enough to scare away the ghosts. Jack watched the dancing shadows flicker on the wall and wished his mom had brought him the torch flashlight his dad used when they went camping. Dim was worse than dark, and the shadows were laughing at him.

  If only there were a full moon, not a storm. He could hear the wind picking up. He tugged on the blanket, ready to yank it over his head when the lightning struck. Sometimes lightning could herald action heroes coming to save him and sometimes it was just angry bolts. Tonight the storm was angry.

  “Mom?” He didn’t shout it. He wasn’t supposed to still be awake; he wasn’t supposed to be afraid of the dark. But if she would maybe just come check on him…

  Thunder cracked.

  His dog raced into the room from the hall.

  Overjoyed, Jack hurriedly tugged the sheets back up and buried
his face against the pillow so he could pretend to be asleep. Mom had let Shep inside the house. The dresser rocked as his dog crashed into it, squeezing around to get into the fort Jack had built earlier that day with blankets over chairs. The candle toppled and disappeared.

  Jack squeezed his eyes shut at the sudden blackness. This was not good. This was very bad. He heard his mom talking with his dad, the sounds echoing as they came up the stairs.

  The room started to brighten. He opened one eye a little to see if Mom had come to the doorway with her light to check on him. The door stood open, empty. Jack opened both eyes. Fire peeked over the edge of his bed, licking at the G. I. Joe sheets.

  Jack watched, wide eyed, fascinated. The flames grew like marching soldiers in a spreading line.

  He reached to move the Matchbox car from the foot of the bed and drew back from the heat. “Mom.”

  The fire alarm in the hall went off.

  The noise deafened the sound of thunder outside.

  “Jack!” His mom rushed into the room followed by his dad.

  She pulled him from the bed and swallowed him in a hug. She smelled like lilacs. His dad yanked back the rug and the covers, attacked the flames, and stomped them out. Wow. They had turned to flames fast; it had been just a flicker moments before. “I’d like Superman sheets to replace mister G. I. Joe,” he told his mom, watching his dad save him.

  She squeezed him. “Superman sheets,” she murmured, her voice choked. “I can do that.”

  One

  The house was a total loss. Firefighter Lieutenant Jack O’Malley shone his bright light on the dripping walls, looking for anything that would provide a source for the smoke he was still chasing. Second floor beams above him groaned as the building settled. Fire had shattered what had once been a beautiful, well-kept home. It was like walking around inside a sarcophagus. The place felt like it was dying.

  The kitchen smelled of something nasty, the sharp smell of burnt cleaning supplies making Jack’s eyes water. Limp bananas were now hanging over a bowl whose apples looked like cooked mush. Coupons fluttered from the counter to the floor, turning to a sodden mass in the standing water. Pictures on the refrigerator had bled away color in the heat, leaving behind the ghosts of people barely discernible.

  The big calendar on the wall beside the phone had been reduced to darkened, curling pages. A family’s life, documented in dates and times and appointments, gone. Jack let the light linger on the calendar, the month of November half marked off with Xs, today’s date of the fifteenth highlighted by something now illegible in bold red ink. Their vacation dates, he guessed. Thanksgiving was next week and they had chosen to travel early. He was grateful they had not been caught in the inferno.

  This was so incredibly senseless. The fire looked like it had been set.

  Jack could feel the weariness wash over him again, and behind it, building, the tick in his left eye that showed his growing anger. He’d like to find the man responsible for this and deck him.

  A wisp of gray caught his attention as the house breathed. Some smoke was coming through the central air ductwork. Jack touched his radio. “Nate, check the utility room again.”

  “On it.”

  Jack walked through what had once been the patio door, stepping out into the night. The massive spotlights from the fire engines in front of the house cast strange shadows onto the backyard through holes in the house where windows had never been intended.

  Popcorn.

  Jack stopped in his tracks when he spotted the white kernels lying at the edge of the deck protected from booted feet by the waist-high wooden railing. The building anger surged and fury swept through him. Someone had stood and watched the house burn, had come prepared to enjoy the sight. It was a signature he’d seen before.

  The white kernels were scattered, dropped as though stragglers from an overflowing fistful. Jack searched the area. A few of the unpopped grains that had been flicked into the flames lay burnt with hulls split in two. Jack had hoped with a passion this particular arsonist was going to stick to his nuisance fires of grass and trash. Instead, he’d just escalated to his first house.

  Fire was supposed to be an accident, not a weapon, not something enjoyed. Jack kicked a smoldering chunk of wood ripped from a window frame away from the evidence. His job was turning into that of a cop.

  He hated arsonists. Painful experience from his past had taught him how ruthless a fire starter could become. Destruction of property. Innocent victims. Injured firefighters. They had to find this guy before someone got hurt.

  He could fight a fire, but fighting a man… Jack felt like his hands were tied and he hated the feeling of being helpless. He was an O’Malley. He wasn’t a man to duck trouble. He preferred to go after it. This was clearly trouble. How was he supposed to go after a man who chose to be a coward and hide behind a match?

  Thanksgiving was coming, then Christmas, and he had enough on his plate already with his sister Jennifer fighting cancer to want to add this kind of tangle. The holidays were like waving an invitation to make trouble. He couldn’t be two places at once. They had to stop this guy soon. But it was tomorrow’s problem.

  Around him the firefighters from Company 81 were pulling hose and shouting to be heard over the sound of a power saw. They were aggressively searching for hot spots within the burned-out house and trying to find the source of that smoke still rising like a wavering cobra into the air.

  Somewhere in the ruins this fire was still alive. Jack pulled back on his gloves and looked over the ruins of the house with an experienced eye. A decade of fighting fires had taught him well, for it was not a forgiving profession.

  Fire was an arrogant beast. If in control, it challenged with ferocious disdain anyone who approached. If forced to retreat, it liked to lie low, patiently waiting, then exact a painful revenge.

  They’d find it. Kill it. And another dragon would be slain.

  “Cole.” Jack got the attention of the fire investigator.

  There were few men who could dominate a fire scene just by being present; his friend Cole was one. Six-two, one hundred and eighty pounds, prematurely gray at forty-two, Cole Parker had made captain at thirty-six, a decade before most. He now led the arson group. Jack trusted the man in a way he trusted few outside his family.

  “What do you have, Jack?”

  With his flashlight, Jack illuminated the popcorn.

  Cole, a big man with a big shadow, stilled for a moment, then walked over to the deck.

  “He’s escalating,” Jack said.

  Cole bent to pick up a kernel. “We knew he eventually would. Five fires in seven weeks, he’s not a patient man.”

  “He’s ringing fires around the new boundaries of the fire district,” Jack suggested, knowing it was at least a clue to figuring out who the man was they had to stop. The smaller, older fire stations had been closing over the past months, their engines and crews dispersed to expanded hub stations. The reapportioned equipment better reflected the new housing construction and demographics of the area, but nothing could change the reality that more territory in each district meant longer response times. This firebug knew how to take advantage of the change.

  Cole just nodded. “A dangerous man playing a dangerous game.” He ate one of the popped kernels. “Salt. He’s bringing his own refreshments.”

  “I really didn’t need to know that.”

  His friend rose gracefully to his feet. “I thought this had the sound of one of his. Late at night, edge of the district.” He looked over at Jack. “Gold Shift.”

  The implication that his shift was being targeted hadn’t escaped Jack’s attention. They worked twenty-four hours on, forty-eight hours off, yet all the fires had been fought by his shift, none by Black or Red Shifts. Jack would not easily admit he’d started to sweat when the tones sounded. It was hard to hold his trademark good humor when someone out there appeared determined to make sure he was going to face flames.

  Cole brushed his hands on worn
jeans. He’d been paged to the scene from his home. “Tell me about this fire.”

  “It was in the walls.”

  First on the scene, Engine 81 had pulled up as smoke began to pour from the attic vents and around the eaves. Jack had pushed his way into the front hallway, shining his light, and had watched the paint bubble from the heat inside the walls. No flames had been visible, but as soon as he had poked his ax into the wall, the dragon had leaped out, roaring. “We had a hard time getting water onto the face of it.”

  Nate on the nozzle, Bruce pulling hose, they’d lost precious time cutting into the walls. With no moon and the neighbors’ homes a distance away, the fire had not been reported until it already had a good hold. Jack had been thinking it ignited because of an electrical short until he saw the intensity of the fire. He illuminated the smoke line and burn pattern with his light as they walked.

  “Center of the house?” Cole speculated.

  They slogged across the yard now turned into mud by the hours of streaming water. Jack stopped by a dogwood tree. “I think so. There was too much ambient heat to assume it started on the second floor and worked down within the walls, not enough fire scarring on the siding to show an origin point in an outside wall.”

  Arson for profit didn’t fit this guy’s pattern—probably a guy—Jack decided. It didn’t feel like the work of a young offender either. These fire locations were carefully planned. And it was odd for a fire starter who did it for enjoyment to acquire the taste late in life. “Think he’s after the press attention?”

  “Bold enough to stand around after the fire starts and flick popcorn into the flames, arrogant enough to set fires frequently. Now escalating in the type of fires he sets. Yes, he wants the attention—ours, the media’s, and ultimately the public’s.”

  “We’ll have a panic on our hands if we don’t stop him before the press connects the fires.”

  “Not to mention copycats.”

  Smoke twisted in their direction, the heavy ash particles making Jack cough. “What time is it?”