The Healer by Dee Henderson
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 handled, but I got scared anyway! I highly recommend this book to anyone who likes suspense.”
TERRI BLACKSTOCK, BEST-SELLING AUTHOR OF EMERALD WINDOWS
“A masterstroke!… Dee Henderson gives the reader not one but two irresistible heroes.”
COMPUSERVE REVIEWS
THE NEGOTIATOR
“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
“Dee Henderson has deftly combined action, suspense, and romance in this first-class inspirational romantic suspense.”
AFFAIRE DE COEUR
THE GUARDIAN
“An entertaining thriller-cum-romance-cum-conversion story is what readers get in this fast-paced 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
“Another exciting new thriller from an up-and-coming talent in Christian fiction.”
LIBRARY JOURNAL
THE TRUTH SEEKER
“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 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 vintage Dee Henderson.”
WRITERS CLUB ROMANCE GROUP ON AOL
TRUE DEVOTION
“Dee Henderson has done a splendid job mixing romance with the fast-paced action of a Navy SEAL platoon.”
STEVE WATKINS, FORMER NAVY SEAL
“Action, adventure, and romance! True Devotion has everything a reader could want!”
ANGELA ELWELL HUNT, BEST-SELLING AUTHOR OF THE JUSTICE
“A truly stunning tale of love and devotion to God, country, and to those left behind when the missions are done.”
COMPUSERVE REVIEWS
“A wonderful story with real and entertaining characters. Ms. Henderson’s gift with words makes this book impossible to put down.”
WRITER’S CLUB ROMANCE GROUP ON AOL
TRUE VALOR
“With its behind-the-scenes look at military deployments and a setting taken straight from the headlines, True Valor will have special appeal for military families and anyone searching for heroes in these uncertain times.”
BOOKPAGE
“Dee Henderson writes with the skill of an F/A-18 Hornet pilot! True Valor is certainly an eye-opener into the unique and courageous world of those who so bravely serve their country, while the romance is brewed at just the right pace.”
ROMANTIC TIMES
“The high-tension action scenes make a jarring counterpoint to the ‘easy’ pace of the romance. Ms. Henderson pulls off the seeming dichotomy with dispatch…. I honestly believe Ms. Henderson could make a grocery list interesting to read.”
SCRIBES WORLD REVIEWS
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The Healer
Copyright © 2002 by Dee Henderson. All rights reserved.
Cover photograph copyright © by Marcus Luconi/Getty Images. All rights reserved.
Cover photograph of water copyright © by Photos.com. All rights reserved.
Designed by Ron Kaufmann and Dean H. Renninger
Previously published in 2002 by Multnomah Publishers, Inc. under ISBN 1-57673-925-2.
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 978-1-4143-1060-2
To my mom,
who is the best friend an author could have.
I am the LORD, your healer.
EXODUS 15:26B
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
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Prologue
Carol Iles pulled on tennis shoes to replace the heels she’d worn at work and tossed her shoes down the hall toward her bedroom. “So where are we going for dinner?” Her friend Amy asked, digging through her cosmetic bag for a lipstick tube. She had come over directly from work, bringing a change of clothes to replace her suit with jeans and a sweater. Amy stepped into the bathroom to use the mirror.
Carol looked at the clock on her kitchen wall. “I was thinking Charlie’s Grill at the mall; then we can walk off dinner and spend some of your vacation money before you leave.” She opened the refrigerator to see what she had available to offer her guest. “I’ve got Sprite, Pepsi, and several sports drinks.”
She had bought the sports drinks for her son when she went grocery shopping last night, and it looked like he’d managed to gulp down two before his father picked him up tonight. She should have suggested he take them with him. It would be two weeks before her son would be here again. His absence was a painful reminder of what hadn’t worked out in her life. Divorce left everyone struggling to make new routines work.
“A Sprite is fine.”
Carol forced aside the melancholy. She set the can on the counter for Amy and got a Pepsi for herself. Amy was making a special point to stay in town on Friday night just to cheer her up when Amy could’ve made an early start on her vacation. Carol was determined to make the effort to enjoy tonight.
She took the soda with her to the dining room and flipped through the day’s mail. Amy rejoined her and put her lipstick and hairbrush away in her cosmetic bag. Carol offered Amy three catalogs that had come the day before. “I found that blouse in one of these.”
“Thanks.” Amy carried them over to the kitchen counter and opened her soda. “I’m hoping they have it in a soft peach.” She dug through her purse for a pen. “Oh, I found the card I had told you about.” She held up a blue business card.
“Brian would blow his top if I asked him to let us get professional help for our son.”
“You have to think about what is best for Mark. It’s normal for divorce to be hard on kids, but Mark is taking this rougher than most,” Amy replied.
“Brian keeps insisting it’s a family problem.”
“Carol, I know your son hates my guts for convincing you to leave Brian. And if he knew I was the one suggesting this, he’d dig in his heels, but I really do think it would be good for him to see someone. It’s been over a year. He’s not getting better on his own. Would you at least talk to Rachel O’Malley? She’s very good at what she does.”
Carol felt exhausted at the idea of bringing yet another person into this trauma, of having to once again explain. Amy was so hopeful this could get better. Carol smiled. “Leave the card. I’ll think about it.”
“You won’t regret it.”
The doorbell rang. Carol wasn’t expecting anyone. “Just a minute.” She went to get it.
Carol opened the door only to stop, surprised. “Was the basketball game canceled?” She stepped back to let her visitor in. She hoped Amy would be smart enough to stay in the kitchen when she heard his voice so they could avoid a confrontation.
“Not exactly.” The gunshot hit her in the chest. She went crashing back into the living room table.
One
We need to go, Mrs. Sands.” Rachel O’Malley stopped the elderly lady from turning toward her living room and instead steered her toward the front door and the waiting Red Cross volunteer. Shutters rattled and a misty rain blew in the open door, dampening the hallway. The Des Plaines River was surging through the levee; and getting people to safety was the priority. It was Tuesday, March 13, and rains across Chicago had triggered rapid flooding along six miles of the river.
“I need my pictures.”
“Yes, ma’am. But I’m afraid there isn’t time.” Rachel shifted the birdcage and medicine bag she carried to help Mrs. Sands with her raincoat. “This wind is strong, so let Nora and the officer help you.”
With twenty minutes warning to leave their homes, residents were able to grab a few clothes and personal items but that was it. Nora took Mrs. Sands’s arm and helped her walk to the waiting rescue vehicle. Rachel handed her personal items to the officer.
In the twilight, torchlights bobbed like fireflies along the block as three police officers and two other Red Cross workers took part in the evacuation search. Rachel worked disasters for a living, but she would never get used to floods. Little could be done once the flooding took ground. Rachel placed a red fluorescent square on the garage door of 58 Governor Street to mark it as confirmed empty. Cold, muddy water swirled over her boots and reached to her jeans as she waded into the water to cut across the yard.
The next house was set back from the road, with sloping, landscaped grounds. Located closer to the river, the house was suffering the most damage of any so far as water poured in through the backyard and rushed around the house to flow down Governor Street. Rachel fought against the water to walk up the driveway. It took her feet out from under her. She instinctively threw her arms up to protect her head as she was swept downhill toward the street. It was her second dunking of the day.
She slammed up against fire boots.
“Got you.” The reassuring words came moments before hands slid around her jacket and hauled her to her feet. Captain Cole Parker stood in the rushing water with his feet braced apart and let the current break around him. He’d been buttoning his fire coat.
“Thanks, Cole.” Everything on her was wet. She leaned forward and dried her face on his shirt. It was rough blue denim and she could see the white T-shirt beneath it. He had planned for the reality of this weather better than she had, with layers to fight the chill. The breadth of muscles on the man stretched the fabric taut.
“My pleasure, Rae.” His hands pushed back her dripping hair as he laughed. “You are really wet. The water bang you up any?”
“I’m okay.” She was embarrassed and annoyed that he’d seen her fall, but she couldn’t do much about any of it. Her short haircut was new, and when it was wet it lost any definition and simply became straggles of hair. She blinked water out of her eyes and sniffed, then reached for his hand and dried her eyes on the back of his cuff.
“I wish I’d brought at least a hand towel.”
She tilted her head to dislodge the water in her ear. “You’re enjoying this.”
“I’d love to have a camera right now,” Cole confirmed, his smile widening. He put his hands on her shoulders and helped her turn against the rushing waters. “Go with Jack. I’ll check the last house.”
Her brother was crossing the street toward her. He was a lieutenant in the same fire company where Cole was a captain. Cole said his premature gray hair was at least partially Jack’s fault. Jack was a careful, safety-conscious firefighter but invariably led his men in a firefight from the front lines, especially when there was someone at risk. Jack was here, and Cole, so Company 81 must have been dispatched to the scene. “I didn’t know firemen fought floods.”
Cole tugged straight the now sopping Red Cross jacket from being bunched around her back. “It looks like we’re going to learn how. The Corps of Engineers guys are stretched thin. The bridge is ours to defend.”
She raised startled eyes to meet his. “Whose blacklist are you on?”
Cole laughed. “I hope it only looks impossible. Jack said it sounds like fun. You have a change of clothes at the shelter?”
“If I don’t it’s going to be a miserable couple hours drying out.” The water was inching up around them. She glanced at the house that had been her original destination. “You’d better go check the house while you can still get to it. But please, be careful.”
“Always,” Cole promised. “Can you get me a head count at the emergency shelter and ask around about pets? I’ll be pulling my guys back from this street in about twenty minutes.”
“Will do.” Rachel grabbed Jack’s hand to keep her balance in the fast-moving waters and headed up the street toward the truck, which was on higher ground. Cole was defending the bridge. She smiled. Well at least she knew where to find him in the foreseeable future. The idea of working at the nearby shelter suddenly had more appeal.
By Friday the rushing waters were a roar in the night that grew louder the closer Cole got to the Des Plaines River. One of the residents of Governor Street forced out by the floodwaters had raised an American flag to fly over the sandbag levee that workers had named “the Alamo line.” The flag waved in the night breeze, backlit by the emergency lights that enabled workers to keep an eye on the bridge, which was now cut off and surrounded by water. It was a defiant symbol. It fit the attitude of those dealing with the disaster over the last three days.
Today had been rough.
Cole kept a lookout for Rachel as he walked. She’d been supplying them with hot coffee and sports scores. Her caramel-colored hair had dried with a flyaway curl to it, and when he happened to catch her during the rare moments she had her reading glasses on, Rae reminded him of a studious college student, years younger than her real age.
She was thirty-five if her brother Jack was to be believed, and given the intensity of Rachel’s job working disaster scenes nationwide, Cole wasn’t surprised her hair had begun to show signs of gray. She was aging elegantly. If he couldn’t have the pleasure of her company on a date tonight, he’d settle for a few minutes to talk with her and enjoy that smile that lingered in his memory.
Cole didn’t see her and hoped that meant she was finally tucked away somewhere getting a few hour’s sleep. She had been staying at the emergency shelter rather than returning to her home a few miles south, her sleeping bag and duffel bag well used. She carried odd things in that duffel bag she considered her emergency kit. He’d seen fingernail polish and stickers and all kinds of colorful hair ribbons alongside aspirin and envelopes and postage stamps. He had slipped in a funny Hallmark card he’d picked up at one of the few businesses in the area determined to stay open. He wanted her thinking about him with a smile and a laugh tonight.
Spotting the yellow smiley face on the back of Jack O’Malley’s fire coat, Cole changed directions and headed toward the blue pump engine. The engine had been retired and replaced by more modern equipment years ago, but in a fight like this one, anything that could pump water had been called out.
Jack was working on the top of the levee, pushing thirty-pound bags around. Beside him a six-inch-main fire hose was taut, stretched up and over the wall of sandbags, dumping water into the river as fast as the pumps could throw it back. Cole stopped by the front bumper of the pump engine, curious as to what was going on, cracking open another peanut while he waited for Jack to finish what he was doing. His pocketful of peanuts was turning out to be dinner tonight.