“Who is this?” I say, feigning bravery despite the terror surging through me.
“Give it a think, Daisy,” the voice says. “I’m sure you know.”
“Is this…” I stop. “Is this God?”
He laughs a low, thin laugh. I suck in my breath.
At once I’m thankful for Mason’s keen instincts: He whisked us out of Omaha and hid us in Texas, away from everyone, even God. And he was right to do it: God’s clearly lost it if he’s rummaging through my bedroom right now.
I feel myself relax the tiniest bit… until he speaks again.
“I’ve just finished reading the heartfelt letter from your dead friend,” he says. “So sappy, and yet so touching.”
My safe little world comes crashing down.
“You’re in Texas?” I ask.
“Oh, no, no,” God says, laughing. “I don’t do heat. But I have eyes everywhere, Daisy.” His tone changes to an evil hiss. “Don’t for one second think that you’re alone.”
I stand abruptly, panicked. The fly buzzes my head again and I brush it away. I look up to the house and am horrified to see a silhouette in one of the windows. My window.
“Who is that?” I ask, staring.
“I guess you could say that it’s Jesus,” God says lightly.
“What’s happening?” I ask.
“Silly girl, I think you know,” God says. “Mason’s headed to D.C. to ruin my life, thanks in large part to you. We’re hitting the road, but first I thought I’d gather some supplies. And, of course, return the favor.”
I don’t want to know what he means by that, so I focus on something else: Mason’s not here to protect me, but Cassie will be back from the airport soon. All I have to do is stall him until she can get here.
“Where are you going?”
“Daisy, you’re not a stupid kid; why do you ask such stupid questions?” he says. “But you know, I could live anywhere. I could be anyone.”
“I know who you are,” I say, taking a huge chance.
“You’re lying,” God says. “You have no idea who I am.”
“Yes I do,” I say. “I talked to you at the Omaha Aquarium.”
The line is silent for so long that I start to shake with fear. He could tell Jesus to come right out here and kill me on the spot.
“Nice try,” the voice says.
I know he’s lying. He can wear all the disguises in the world, but he can’t shake the lisp. I can hear it crystal clear, just like that day. Still, I don’t provoke him. In fact, I don’t say anything for a moment. I cover the phone with my hand so I can take a few deep breaths and try to calm my racing heart. As I do, I watch the window for movement. Then I hastily look around the wide-open acreage, trying desperately to remember in which direction the closest house lies. I take a step to the right, considering running….
“Daisy?” the chilling voice addresses me again.
“Yes?” I ask hoarsely.
“Jesus is excellent at many things,” he says. “Sharpshooting is one of them.”
I freeze. There’s a pause: I think I hear the tap of a keyboard.
“There we go,” he says. “That’s better. Now sit back down on your pretty little blanket. I do want you to go in out of the sun and meet my friend, but not yet. Wait for my word, will you now, dear?”
“Yes,” I say, trapped.