Hunter

He eased from the bed, careful not to wake Allison.

"Hunter." She stirred, and whispered his name with a smile on her face. Arching her back, she reached for him but he moved away.

"It's early. Go back to sleep," he said gently and to his relief, she sank back into the covers.

He quickly pulled on his jeans and left the room with one last look at the woman he'd made love to countless times over the last few years. A bitter laugh rumbled in his chest. What they shared had nothing to do with love. Their affair was based on lust and convenience.

They'd never marry. He was still in love with Anna—the thought stopped him cold but he wasn't ready to analyze why. Allison was ambitious, intent on climbing the corporate ladder with no time to invest in a relationship. No, they would never get married.

Shame filled him. That he'd allowed it to go on this long. Shame that he'd begun such a relationship at all. It physically hurt him to imagine what Anna would say about his behavior if she were alive to witness it. Her dying wish was that he raise their daughter to love the Lord, and he had failed them both. She'd still be alive today if God hadn't—

"No!" Hunter let out a low, deep sound. He'd blamed God for too long. Stalking to the kitchen, he poured a cup of coffee and tried to get control.

He kept seeing Izabelle showing him her Bible and asking him the most basic, innocent questions. What a joke that she would come to him for advice about God.

His phone buzzed and he plucked it from the counter, checking the caller I.D. "Vasquez."

"Hey, Captain, I got the results of that fingerprint dust." A brief pause. "It's clean. Nothing. Nada."

"That doesn't put me at ease."

"Right. The perp wore gloves. Your friend have anything else to go on?"

Hunter pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'll get back with you on that."

"Have a good one."

"You too. I appreciate your help. Stay safe," he said, ending the call and pouring another cup of coffee.

Jack followed him like he did every morning, and Hunter reached down and gave him an affectionate pet. Usually, he took his coffee on the deck watching the sunrise with Jack.

Today he started outside, stopped, and did something he hadn't done since Lucy moved out. Coffee in hand, he sat at the table, feeling restless and out of sorts. What was wrong with him?

He'd have felt better if there had been prints on that note. Someone had gone to a lot of trouble to make sure they weren't able to be identified. He didn't like it. Maybe he was overreacting, but he thought he needed to check out that ex-boyfriend of hers. If he didn't stop thinking about it, he'd go insane.

His gaze caught on Lucy's name written in her five-year-old child's hand. Anna had been helping her practice her name, and one of her tries had etched into the hardwood. He hadn't known at the time that he'd forever treasure that reminder of Lucy's childhood.

Anna had sat at this table every morning and read the Bible to Lucy, her voice animated and hands silently adding to the stories. Their only child had listened with rapt attention as her mother told Lucy how much Jesus loved her.

His beloved Anna was determined their daughter be raised to love the Lord, and the circumstances of her birth did not stop his young wife. He remembered Anna on her knees asking God to forgive them for not waiting until marriage. She'd been confident God would forgive them. With her head held high, she took Lucy to church and never faltered in her faith.

He was not as worthy. His own faith had never been as strong, but Anna had prayed for him and she'd never given up hope that he'd one day belong to the Lord. It was one of the last things she'd ever said to him. "Promise me Hunter, when darkness falls, turn to Jesus," she implored him.

He'd broken that promise too many times to count. The woman in his bedroom was evidence of that. Tears filled his eyes, but he refused to let them fall. When Anna died, he'd been devastated. Had it not been for Lucy he'd have asked Jesus to take him too.

God knows, he loved her so much. She would be disappointed in him for blaming God and for not raising Lucy to love Jesus. Hunter found comfort in knowing their baby girl needed no help finding the Lord.

He was the one who was lost.

Hunter bowed his head, broken. He prayed Lucy didn't know about Allison, but she probably did. The guilt was overwhelming. He'd made too many mistakes, and he suddenly wondered how he could find his way home.

Izabelle's smiling face flashed in his mind. He heard her asking why Jesus had to die for our sins.

His gaze flicked to the Bible he hadn't opened in years. It was lying on the credenza, collecting dust, and calling to him. He'd told Izabelle to read John. Thinking of how she'd brought her brother's Bible to the lake, he wondered if he'd missed some opportunity to reach her, which was ridiculous since he couldn't help himself. Sweet Izabelle was responsible for him even thinking about reading the Bible again.

Hunter closed his eyes. As much as he'd loved his wife, it wasn't her image that came to mind, and it wasn't the woman lying in his bed. It was Izabelle, the sweet, innocent woman who needed him like he hadn't been needed in a long time. She stirred his soul like never before, bringing out his protective instincts.

All those years, he'd never been able to forget her. When she'd been a teenager, he'd been desperate to save her. He'd had countless sleepless nights lying awake praying nothing happened to him before Lucy was old enough to take care of herself. Despite his unbelief, he'd prayed the same prayer for Izabelle and Kyle.

Izabelle was too young for him. What she needed was a friend, and that's what he'd be. He cared about her and God knows he was attracted to her, but feelings were untrustworthy. Hunter had long ago mastered control over them, and he would never do anything to hurt her.

She needed a friend and that's what he would be. Maybe they'd help each other find the Lord. He had a lot to think about. For the first time in years, he bowed his head and began to pray.

"Lord God, forgive me..." Even after the years and distance, he'd put between himself and God, the words flowed easily. Minutes slipped by. Hunter prayed. He wasn't sure how much time had passed when his phone went off. He'd call them back.

Answer, my son.

The still, small voice whispered through him and his eyes flew open. Picking his phone off the table he turned it over and saw his daughter's name on the screen.

"Lucy?" His heart pounded. "Are you ok?"

"I'm fine, Dad. Sorry, I didn't mean to worry you. It hasn't been that long since I called." The last was said with a soft laugh.

My heartbeat started slow. "Sorry. I worry."

"Believe me, I know. Is there anything I can do?" She sounded concerned.

"Hey, I'm the parent. It's my job to look after you baby girl. Tell me what's on your mind."

"It's Izabelle."

I stiffened, gripping the phone tighter.

"She's been getting creepy texts probably from her ex," Lucy continued. "I have this weird feeling something is wrong—I'm probably blowing things out of proportion."

"Let me judge that. What happened?"

"That's just it there are no new texts that I know about, but I called her just now and she seemed off. Scared. I told her I'd come over—"

"I'll take care of it, Lucy. I'm on my way over there now."

"Dad, you don't have to—"

"This is my job. Don't worry. I'll take care of your friend. Stay where you are and I'll keep you updated."

Grabbing my keys, I dialed Izabelle's number. She answered on the first ring.

"Hello?"

I never got to respond before she screamed.