Page 59 of Jenna's Threatened Sanctuary

She worked her tongue over her dry mouth. Cotton swallowed her words, her lips smacking together. “Calvin.” The syllables grated against her throat.

Bowman pivoted, angling his body so he stood sideways in the aisle. Halfway between the back of the church that led to the exit and Calvin standing only steps away from the altar.

Calvin pressed closer. “There’s no way out. Let Jenna go.”

“No! Stop moving!” Bowman yelled.

The pain on her neck sharpened. The blade going deeper.

He was going to snap. She had to get away.

Bang, bang, bang!

Pounding echoed around the high ceiling. Muffled shouts accompanied the constant banging.

Bowman dropped his arm from around her neck, the pressure of the knife falling away, and turned toward the sound. Her body remained anchored to his, but she concentrated all of her energy to move away from him as much as she could.

Calvin catapulted forward, charging up the aisle. He slammed against Father Bowman and pinned him to the ground.

Jenna fell to her knees. The room spun.

Calvin pulled back his fist and smashed it into Bowman’s jaw.

Bowman’s head snapped back, his hand still wrapped around the end of the knife.

Calvin slammed Bowman’s hand against the ground until the knife skittered on the floor.

Relief slithered through the fog in Jenna’s brain. She slumped her head against the thin cushioned seat of the pew.

The doors to the sanctuary flew open. A handful of officers burst down the hall. Their blurry figures rushing toward her.

Jenna squinted, trying to hear the words coming from their mouths. Buzzing swarmed in her brain.

Officer Sawyer swooped down and secured Father Bowman’s wrist behind his back with handcuffs then hoisted him to his feet.

Calvin scurried toward her. Concern etched lines in the corners of his mouth. His mouth moved as if he spoke. She couldn’t hear any words.

Fatigue pulled at every fiber of her being, tugging her eyes closed. Darkness closed in around her, oblivion sucking her under.

26

Asubtle awareness settled into Jenna’s consciousness—a light squeeze on her hand, a warm blanket over her torso, a constant pounding against her temple. Bits and pieces of memories floated into her mind.

Father Bowman.

The communion.

Stella.

She woke on a gasp. Her eyes opening, and her body jerking into an upright position. The pain in her head intensified. An IV was inserted in a vein on top of her hand, connecting her to fluids that chilled her body.

“You’re okay. Everything’s fine. Just relax.” Calvin’s smooth voice washed over her like a healing balm.

Noisy machines monitored her vitals. The fluorescent lights buzzed in the quiet room and bounced off the white tile floor. The scent of disinfectant mixed with the subtle smell of infection a hospital was never able to mask. A curtain pulled around her bed shielded her from the rest of the room.

“Is Bowman in jail? He drugged me. He killed Stella.” The sob caught in her throat burst free, and she covered her mouth with her trembling hand.

Calvin stood from the bedside chair and cupped her cheek with his palm. “Cruz arrested Bowman. You’re safe.”

---