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swiveling around in his executive chair.
    With Faith Community’s current status as the fastest-growing church in the Carolinas, all of its members had grown used to the pressing demands on Pastor Gentry’s time. It had nearly gotten to the point where one was deemed fortunate just to have an uninterrupted meeting with the man. Arlene understood this as well as anybody, busying herself with picking imaginary lint from the fabric of her pantsuit while her pastor spoke softly into the receiver from a few feet away. She assumed it was merely another routine business call, but when he quickly swiveled back around and almost dropped the phone back into its cradle, she immediately sensed something was wrong.
    “Lord Jesus, have mercy,” Pastor Gentry breathed, closing his eyes as he pinched the bridge of his nose.
    “Pastor? Is . . . is something wrong?”
    Ten seconds passed before he opened his eyes. “Sister Arlene, please gather the intercessory team together—we need to pray as a church family. That was Brother and Sister Harper, on their way to the hospital.”
    “The Harpers? The
hospital
? Wha-what happened?”
    “It’s Sister Lynn,” he said slowly. His voice was now notably strained. “There’s no easy way to say this,” he began, measuring his words. He knew how close the relationship was between Arlene and Lynn. For that matter, he regarded Lynn Harper as his own daughter. “She’s been in an accident.”
    All the color drained from Arlene’s face. “Oh, God . . .”

Chapter Four
    T HE DOUBLE DOORS OF Palmetto Memorial Hospital electronically burst open, clearing the way for the lead paramedic to rush through, communicating on a walkie-talkie. In seconds, two nurses appeared from around the corner, ready to assist the first responders.
    “Woman, five-nine . . . early thirties,” the paramedic announced in rat-tat-tat staccato. “Auto collision, driver’s side. Trauma to head, concussion, possible internal bleeding. Broken left leg . . .” Seconds later, a gurney rolled through, carrying the body of an immobilized woman. An oxygen mask covered the woman’s face and her neck was secured in traction. The entire left side of her body seemed to be covered in blood.
    “Get her to trauma room 2,” boomed the voice of one of the nurses.
    Not far behind the stretcher, Leonard and Jeannette Harper stumbled through the double doors. Leonard half held, half supported his wife as they moved as quickly as they could, the end result looking like a pairing in an awkward three-legged race. Jeannette’s eyes were wide and darting around inside their sockets, and she was incoherently mumbling to herself.
    “Excuse me, Mr. and Mrs. Harper?” The lady at the front desk called out, standing and raising her hand in a futile attempt to gain their attention. But the Harpers weren’t about to be slowed down by some woman behind a desk. Not when their only daughter was clinging to life mere feet away from them.
    “Mr. and Mrs. Harper!” the receptionist called out again, more loudly this time. At the sound of her voice, one of the nurses turned around to see the couple attempting to gain entry into the trauma room.
    “I’m sorry, but you two
cannot
come past these doors,” the nurse sternly cautioned, holding out his hand to block their path before they reached the doors leading to the operating room.
    “My daughter!” Jeannette screamed. “Get out of my way! My daughter is back there!”
    “I understand, ma’am,” the nurse replied gently, holding his ground. His facial expression radiated the perfect blend of sympathy and sorrow. “But I can’t let you past these doors. The doctors are doing everything they can for her right now.”
    Jeannette sagged against the nurse’s arms, her screams now turned into a mournful wailing. “You’ve got to let me . . . my daughter . . . Lynn . . .”
    Leonard placed his hands on his wife’s shoulders, gently leading her away from the doors. “It’s in the