Page 48 of Still Afraid

Josh’s blood pressure spiked. Chloe was still at the store.

He called her.

It took her forever to answer. “Impatient much?”

“There’s a storm building.” He didn’t want her to freak out and make it more dangerous for her to drive.

“I just left the store and will drop this stuff off real quick. Then I’ll be there. Probably less than thirty minutes. The skies are still blue. Sure, there are a few clouds now, but they’re white and fluffy.”

“Hurry.”

“But safely?”

“A given.”

“I’ll be fine. I love you. Now let me drive, and I’ll see you soon.”

“I love you too.”

Anxiety churned his gut. Is this how Chloe felt so often? If so, he hated that for her. It was a terrible feeling.

After sliding his phone into his pocket, Josh placed his hands on the counter as if bracing himself and bowed his head.

“God, I don’t have a good feeling. Please protect Chloe and get her here safely.”

Josh continued to plead with the Lord but without specific words.

Poirot came over and sat at Josh’s feet. Did the dog sense something was wrong?

Chapter Eighteen

Clouds darkened in the sky. Chloe drove, pushing her speed a little more than she normally would. The combination of Josh’s call and the text from her dad warning about the weather had her on edge. She’d been doing so well. At least today anyway.

As she turned down her street, her nerves twisted up her stomach. Can’t this crazy spring weather stop already? Wasn’t it summer enough now?

A gust of wind forced her to tighten her grip on the steering wheel. Get to the house and at least put the ice cream and cheese away. Then she could go to Josh’s and let him hold her tight until the storm passed.

At least it wasn’t raining … or was that a bad sign? If she could beat the rain, she’d be happy.

She pulled into the driveway, and the wind continued to whip around.

Brave it, Chloe. Get the groceries inside. It’s just a little wind.

She dropped her phone into her purse. With a huge breath, she jumped out and raced to the back of her SUV.

She opened the hatch, but the wind blew her hair into her face. She fought with it, wishing she had a hair tie on her wrist. She used to keep one there all the time. When did she stop?

Giving up the fight with her hair, she reached for the bags in the back of her Pilot.

“Where is it?” A deep voice boomed behind her.

Her keys dropped to the ground, and she spun, ready to whack the guy with her purse. But he caught her left forearm. Her purse with her phone dropped to the ground.

She screamed.

A man in a dark zip-up hoodie, bandana, and sunglasses held her. “Where is it?”

“Where’s what?”