Excerpt of Face Of Danger

Isaiah 58:9  "You will call and the Lord will answer; you will cry for help, and He will say, Here I am."

ONE

Texas Ranger Cade Jarvis gripped the wheel of his pickup truck, his neck and shoulder muscles knotting. He was on the most important mission of his career and nothing was going to stop him from reaching Austin. Nothing.

His glance darted to the rearview mirror. He'd been keeping an eye on the erratic movements of a set of headlights approaching behind him. An unidentified vehicle was obviously speeding, cutting in and out of the heavy traffic as if that driver thought he was on a racetrack instead of the public highway.

Cade tensed. The guy was crowding everyone he passed and scattering them like a flock of scared chickens.

A dark SUV drew parallel with his truck and swerved toward him. He sounded his horn. There was no discernible reaction from the speeder.

Cade managed to avoid physical contact once, twice. Again. He muttered, "Wake up before you kill us both," and clenched his teeth.

The SUV matched him move for move while other drivers did their best to distance themselves from the obvious confrontation.

The reckless driver closed the sideways gap so abruptly, so forcefully, Cade couldn't dodge in time. The sound of rending, crushing, sliding, metal-against-metal squealed through the cold November night.

Hitting his brakes, Cade braced for an even worse collision. He glanced over at the evidence case resting next to him on the seat and prayed instinctively, "Dear God. Don't let anything stop me from getting that to the forensic artist."

Tires sliding, truck body sluing sideways, Cade felt his front bumper clip the supporting post of a highway sign and catch. The pickup's chassis did a 180 and ended up half on and half off the road, facing oncoming traffic, before he was finally able to bring it to a stop.

High, bright headlights of an eighteen-wheeler were bearing down on him. He could hear the semi's air horn blasting, its brakes locking and tires squealing. Throwing his arms over his face, he prayed the airbag would work and that he'd live through the next few seconds.

******

The usually busy Texas Ranger headquarters building in Austin was quiet - except for the beating of forensic artist Paige Bryant's heart and her niggling feeling that something wasn't quite right.

"Stop it. Just stop it. You're being silly," she told herself as she leaned out of her studio and peered down the empty hallway. It looked as though everyone in that part of the office had already gone home for the night. Which was where she should be. Where she would be if she weren't waiting for a delivery.

She closed her office door and began to pace. It wasn't that far from the Company D office in San Antonio to the main one in Austin. What could be keeping that man? She didn't know Sergeant Cade Jarvis well, but the few times they had met she'd been favorably impressed.

Paige huffed, disgusted with herself. Impressed? Boy, was that an understatement. If Sergeant Jarvis was half as good-looking as she recalled, he'd be attractive enough to curl her toes. He stood nearly six feet tall, with dusky blond hair and mischievous eyes the color of warm mocha java. And when he smiled, the fine lines of an outdoorsman crinkled at the corners of those appealing eyes, though she doubted the man was much over thirty, if that.

She was about to give up on him and head for home when her phone rang. She snatched it up before the second ring. "Hello?"

"Ms. Bryant? This is Cade Jarvis," the vibrant male voice said. "I'm going to be a little late."

He was already more than a little late but something in his tone gave Paige pause and made her ask, "Are you all right?"

"Boy, news travels fast."

"I beg your pardon?" It was becoming clear to Paige that this call was not the result of a normal travel delay. "What news? What's happened?"

"I was run off the road not far from there."

Her free hand flew to her throat and her eyes widened in astonishment. "Oh, no! Are you all right?"

"Fine. Actually, I'm in better shape than my truck is. It would have been a lot worse if other drivers hadn't steered around me after I wrecked. As soon as the troopers finish their report I'll hitch a ride with one of them and have him drop me at your office."

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah. Thankfully, there's no problem with the remains I'm bringing you, either. I had the skull packed in a padded evidence bag so it wasn't damaged by the collision. I figured you'd probably make a composite copy to model the clay over, anyway, but I'd still like to get it to you in one piece."

"It is a lot easier – and more accurate - if I don't have to work with an original that starts out looking like a jigsaw puzzle." Still concerned, Paige paused. "Listen, Sergeant, if you'll tell me exactly where you are, I'll be glad to drive over and get you."

"That won't be necessary."

"I don't mind. It would give me a chance to peek at the evidence, too. I know how important it is to ID that victim ASAP."

The ranger's chuckle struck her as sounding a bit cynical. When he spoke she was certain. "Oh, I get it. It's not me you're worried about, it's these bones."

"I didn't mean anything of the kind." Glad he couldn't see her blush, Paige realized she was embarrassed by how close he'd come to the truth. "I do care about my job," she insisted. "A lot. But that doesn't mean I don't care about living people, too."

"Hey, I was just teasing. No offense meant, ma'am."

Whew. "None taken. So, do you want me to come get you or do you think you'll be here fairly soon?"

"Hold on a sec."

While she waited, Paige listened to a hodgepodge of muted conversations in the background. Between that overlap of voices and the humming traffic noise it was hard to pick out individual words, at least not well enough to tell what was being said.

"Ma'am? You still there?" Cade finally asked.

"Yes. What did you decide?"

"One of the troopers will give me a ride while they haul my truck in so the lab boys can take paint samples from the parts that were sideswiped. I should be at your office within a half hour. Do you mind waiting just a little longer?"

"Not at all, Sergeant. See you soon."

Hanging up, Paige busied herself tidying her office and trying to catch up on paperwork. Details like that always fell by the wayside when she was concentrating on drawing or sculpting the faces of nameless victims. Victims like her sister had been sixteen years ago.

Paige purposely tried to redirect her thoughts. There was nothing to be gained by beating herself up over past events. Amy was gone. The pretty three-year-old would probably never be located, alive or otherwise, and there was no way to change what had happened no matter how much Paige wished otherwise.

She pulled herself together and lifted her chin. "It wasn't my fault," she whispered into the silence. "I did my best to help her."

That was true. And now she reached out to other mute victims of horrendous crimes and gave them faces. Voices. Gave their families closure and hope of finding justice. What she did was more than a job. It was her calling.

It was also her atonement.

 

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