Kennedy Stern Christian Suspense Complete Box Set (Books 1-9)

Straightened-9

Crowded wasn’t the first word that popped into Kennedy’s mind when she entered Nick’s apartment. The couch where Woong was supposed to sleep was covered in so many X-box games and discarded snack wrappers Kennedy couldn’t tell what color the cushions were until Nick dumped everything into a big Ramen box. Woong had fallen asleep on the ride over, so Carl tucked him in as carefully as he could.

The other couch wasn’t quite as big of a mess, but it still took Nick several minutes to sweep off all the Cheetos crumbs and popcorn kernels. “Sorry. We had an X-box tournament a couple nights ago, and I didn’t get the chance to tidy up yet.”

“Everything is just fine,” Sandy lied pleasantly. Kennedy wondered if there was a polite way to ask for a sheet to place over the couch before she actually stretched out on it. She’d probably be too squeamish to rest here anyway. Who knew what kinds of bugs or rodents fed off all those crumbs?

“You better let me check on the bedroom before you get too comfortable,” he told the Lindgrens apologetically.

Sandy smiled as she glanced at the music posters stapled up on Nick’s walls. “Nice place, isn’t it?”

Carl didn’t answer. Neither did Kennedy.

“Doesn’t she have a pretty face?” Sandy fingered a photo of a blonde girl, the only picture in the room that actually had a frame. She picked it up off the coffee table and passed it to Kennedy. “Looks like she belongs on the cover of a magazine, doesn’t she?”

Kennedy squinted at the girl in her bright green and yellow sundress. There was something familiar about her smile.

Nick came out of the room and tossed two full trash bags by his front door. “It’s not perfect, but I figured after all you’d been through, you’d rather get to sleep sooner than later. I’d change the sheets for you, but it’s been a little while since I’ve made it to the laundromat, and ...”

“Don’t you say another word, young man.” Sandy came over and gave him a little side hug. “You’ve been more than hospitable taking us in like this. We sure are thankful.”

Nick wiped his forehead. “Thanks. I just wish I ...”

Sandy cut him off. “Not another word. You have a good night, and don’t forget that you and Kennedy need your sleep just as much as the rest of us. I don’t want to come out here in the morning to hear you’ve blabbed the night away.” She was smiling, but her words were stern so it was hard to tell if she was teasing or giving them an ultimatum.

“We’ll behave,” Nick promised.

Carl clasped Nick on the back. “You’re a good man, son. You don’t know what it means to me to have you taking in my family like this.”

Family. Something in the way he said the word twisted Kennedy’s heart between her ribs. Less than twenty-four hours on American soil, and she was already homesick? What she wanted more than anything was to call her mom and dad, but her phone was back at the Lindgrens’. So was her backpack, her Shakespeare books, her copy of The Last Battle from Reuben. Had the firemen saved it? It could have been so much worse. But it still happened. Was she supposed to be thankful? Sure, God had kept her and the Lindgrens safe, but couldn’t he have stopped those flames before they even began?

Carl wasn’t convinced it was arson, but what else could it be? Houses don’t just burn themselves down. Especially not two in the same night. No, this was definitely not a coincidence. Someone had targeted Carl and Sandy. The same person who had targeted the Abernathys. Who could be that vindictive? That murderous?

And why should the Lindgrens think they were out of danger now?

The fire had started in Woong’s room. She stared at his curled up form tucked under a ratty blanket on Nick’s couch. Sure, he could be loud and he threw fits whenever he didn’t get his way, but who would wish harm on someone so young? So helpless? Was the perpetrator really so cruel he’d resort to killing an innocent boy to get his point across?

And what point was he trying to make, exactly? If it had just been the senator’s home that had burned down, there could have been a dozen different suspects with a dozen different motives, each one just as plausible as the others. But now that the Lindgrens were involved, too ... Who would want to harm both families? Who would want to burn both their houses down?

It seemed even more important to reach Noah soon. Could they get any real answers without him?

Kennedy watched Nick pull some camping gear out of an overstuffed closet. “Can I help you with anything?” she asked.

“Nah.” He tugged a sleeping bag free. “I think I’ll just set this up in the hall and try to get some sleep.” He shuffled his feet and stared at the couch. “I’m really sorry the place isn’t any cleaner. It’s not always ...” He looked around. “Ok, well, it’s sometimes this bad, but if I’d known you’d all be coming, I would have put in a little extra effort.”

“I don’t think anyone minds.” Kennedy pointed at Woong, who had just rolled over with a contented sigh. He looked so much sweeter, so much more peaceful now that he was asleep.

“Well, can you think of anything you need before I set up camp for the night?”

She glanced at his microwave clock. Two thirty-six. It was going to be a long stretch until morning. “Got any books?”

A grin broke across his face. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Nick had converted half the storage areas in his kitchen into little mini-libraries. “This is where I keep my theology stuff.” He opened the cupboard above his stove. Kennedy was surprised by how orderly everything was. Either he cared a lot more about his books than he did the rest of his belongings, or he’d set them up the day he moved in here and hadn’t touched them since. Based on how worn some of the covers looked, she guessed it was the former reason.

Kennedy skimmed the titles. There was a lot about youth ministry there, as well as two books on homosexuality and the church that caught her eye.

“I keep my politics stuff here,” he said, opening another cupboard by the sink. His selection looked quite a bit like her dad’s, except the titles were probably newer. Her dad liked to joke that all his reading money was now funneled into Kennedy’s college textbook fund.

“Over here is my favorite.” He opened up his pantry, where he kept a whole section of sci-fi and fantasy. If Kennedy got desperate she could flip through the poems in Lord of the Rings. Her dad had forced her to read the entire trilogy when she was a high school sophomore, but she had skipped the songs and poetry to make the story move along faster. Maybe she’d appreciate those parts if she could read them at her leisure.

“It’s probably not the kinds of books you usually pick out.” Nick frowned.

“No, don’t worry about that. It’s actually really cool how you made space for all them. I’m sure I’ll find enough to keep me going.”

“You want heavy reading, find Grudem’s Systematic Theology. It’s in the cupboard by the microwave. Big thick one. Probably changed my life more than anything else besides the Bible.”

Kennedy tried to determine if there was a single book she could say the same thing about. There were books she loved, books that encouraged or inspired her, books that she could read and reread and always find something new. But change her life?

Maybe she’d check it out.

After spending a little time with Tolkien.

She pulled out The Fellowship of the Ring. “Thanks again.”

“Any time.” Nick lingered in the kitchen. Swept a dread out of his eye. Drummed his fingers on the counter and let out a nervous laugh. “Oh, speaking of Harvard ...”

Kennedy tried to hide her confusion. When had they been speaking of Harvard?

“I know you’re probably going to be really busy this semester, and I totally understand, but I wanted to ask you something. And you’re welcome to say no, it’s not like it’s going to hurt my feelings or anything, but well, I’ve been thinking about it for a while now, and I’ve been wanting to find time to ask you all night if you’d ...”

He didn’t get the chance to finish, because Woong sat up on the couch with a shriek. As Kennedy and Nick rushed over, he let out a second scream that could have scared all three of Macbeth’s witches speechless.

CHAPTER 12“Bul! Bul!” Woong thrashed his limbs around wildly.

“What’s he saying?” Nick asked.

“Fire.” Kennedy squatted down by the couch. “The fire’s out,” she told him. “You’re safe now. Safe.” She repeated the word in Korean, but it did nothing to calm him down or keep him from kicking her in the chin. “Ow!”

Nick knelt down beside her and grabbed Woong by the shoulders. “It’s ok. You’re at my house. Remember me, buddy? It’s Nick. I work with your daddy.”

Woong flung himself forward. Nick moved in time for Woong’s forehead to hit him in the cheek instead of the nose.

“Calm down,” Kennedy told him in Korean, using as authoritative a voice as she could. She positioned her face so she’d be in his field of vision, but she was ready to move out of his way if he decided to try for another head butt. “Calm down,” she repeated. “You’re ok. Your mom and dad are here, too. Everyone’s safe.”

He scratched at her face. She would never underestimate the amount of damage fingernails could cause again.

“Wait a minute.” Nick reached over and flicked on a lamp. “I’m not sure he’s awake.”

“He’s not.” Sandy bustled down the hall toward them. “Woong, honey? Woong, you’re having a bad dream now. It’s not real.” She stayed a full yard away from him until Carl came up beside her.

“Bul!” Woong shouted again. His eyes were wide open, but they were vacant. Empty. “Bul!”

“There’s no fire,” Sandy told him as Carl grabbed his arms in a bear hug. Woong flung his head, still shrieking, but Carl dodged it expertly.

“Nick, hon, do you have a bigger blanket we could use?” Sandy asked.

Nick hurried out of the room. Kennedy had never seen someone act like Woong and was trying to figure out how Carl and Sandy could remain so calm. “Is he ok?” she asked.

“It’s just night terrors, sweetie.” Sandy accepted a blue and white checkered blanket from Nick and helped Carl wrap Woong up in it until everything but his head was swaddled like a burrito. She gave his forehead a kiss. “Daddy’s gonna pray for you now, and then you’ll get that good rest your body needs to grow big and strong, ok?”

Woong kept on thrashing as Carl started to pray. At first, Kennedy thought the Lindgrens were crazy for not rushing Woong to the emergency room. She had never heard anyone — man, woman, or child — scream so loud, as if his soul was tormented by a legion of demons. Halfway through Carl’s prayer, Woong let out a loud, choppy breath. A minute later, he was sleeping peacefully in his father’s arms.

“I love you, son.” Carl kissed him on the head. “You gonna do the honors tonight, my dear?” he asked.

“I think so.” Sandy stroked Woong’s hair and then explained, “We like to spend the next hour or two with him just in case the same thing happens again.”

“Why don’t you let me carry him to the bedroom?” Carl stood up with his bundle. “I’ll sleep on the couch.”

Sandy adjusted her skirt. “Thank you, babe.”

Carl carried Woong down the hall, and Nick shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “I guess that fire got him pretty freaked out, eh?”

Sandy sighed. “Well, maybe. But truth be told, he’s been screaming about fires before tonight. That’s how Carl and I knew the Korean for it. Heard it so often in his night terrors we looked it up.”

“Have you asked him about it when he’s awake?” Nick asked.

“The night terrors he doesn’t remember. And the fires, well, we talked with the psychologist about it, but she says not to ask too many questions straight off. When Woong’s ready to talk, he’ll let us know what he’s so scared of.”

Kennedy was amazed at how calm Sandy could be after listening to those ear-splitting shrieks. It would be a miracle if one of the neighbors in Nick’s apartment complex hadn’t called 911 and summoned a dozen police officers to rescue a torture victim.

“So do you think he’ll sleep through the night?” she asked.

“Oh yeah. Now that he’s calm again, not even the Tribulation would wake that boy up. We just stay with him as a precaution, really. Gives us more time to pray over him, too.”