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separate attacks. The third was the one outside here, the note on my truck this morning.”
    “You’re forgetting the calls,” Rachel said. “I got weird phone calls just before the service.”
    “Where were you at that time?” Logan asked.
    Jace answered, “In your parking lot. I assume that whoever made the calls was watching. As soon as we went inside, he knew he’d have plenty of time to place another note without being seen.”
    Nodding, Logan scowled. “I agree. And, unfortunately, we’ve never had a need for surveillance cameras around the church until now. I’ll speak to the church council about getting some ASAP.”
    “There’s one more thing,” Jace said. “Harlan didn’t seem to think it was significant, but all the notes were printed with children’s crayons. I thought that was kind of odd.”
    “It is interesting,” Logan said. “What conclusion do you draw?”
    “None, so far, except maybe that the perpetrator was trying to emulate childish writing. The letters were shaky and poorly made.” Jace felt Rachel’s shoulder tremble beneath his touch. “The sheriff didn’t even send the notes to a crime lab. He said he refused to waste his skimpy budget on such nonsense—and that’s a quote.”
    “Censored, since we’re in a church, I imagine.” The pastor smiled benevolently at Rachel. “Tell you what. I still have a few contacts in law enforcement in Chicago. I’ll see if Harlan will let me get the notes analyzed for him.”
    “Oh, thank you,” Rachel said. She got to her feet and held out her hand. “Even if you don’t find out anything new, at least I’ll feel as if somebody else is trying to do something to help me.”
    Logan grasped her hand and glanced over her shoulder at Jace. When he said “I thank the Lord that you have someone like this in your corner, too,” Jace felt uncharacteristically uncomfortable.
    “Just doing my job,” he said flatly, dismissing the compliment.
    “Over and above the call of duty,” Logan countered, “but have it your way. As I often say, ‘The Lord works in mysterious ways.’”
    “Well, it wasn’t God who brought me to Serenity,” Jace insisted.
    “Oh? Why did you come here?”
    He could have answered truthfully, simply, and ended the query. He could also have revealed details of his previous anger and the resulting inadequate job performance that had nearly cost a man’s life. Instead, he chose to avoid any explanation that might touch him too deeply.
    “I needed a change of scenery and this assignment seemed perfect,” Jace said, feigning a nonchalance that he did not feel.
    He wasn’t sure if it was the preacher in Logan Malloy who saw through him or if it was the former detective who was peering all the way into his wounded soul. Either way, he didn’t like feeling so exposed, so vulnerable.
    Rather than remain longer and face more questions, Jace reached for Rachel’s hand and gave it a tug. “If you have any ideas that might help, you can reach me at the sheriff’s office or at Rachel’s card shop.”
    “Fine. I’ll start by talking to Harlan and offering those tests.”
    “Good. Thanks.” Jace was already guiding her toward the exit. “We’re going to go grab a bite to eat.”
    “Would you like to have prayer before you go?”
    Jace would have continued out the door if Rachel had not balked. “I—I’d like that.” Her gaze searched Jace’s. “Would you mind?”
    “Not at all.” And he didn’t. Not really. He had often prayed for himself and his loved ones in the past. And he’d certainly prayed for his partner’s survival after the gun battle that had left them both wounded.
    That prayer had been answered, although not in exactly the way Jace had envisioned. Roy had lived, all right. Lived to steal Sandra’s affection for good.
    Why had God allowed that to happen? Jace wondered silently as the pastor began to pray aloud. He and Sandra had seemed perfect for each other, real soul mates. Yet she had