The Hero's Redemption
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Janice Kay Johnson
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Prologue
“NO GUY IS ever going to be interested in me! I tower over all of them!” Alyssa Enger wailed from near the back of the extended van.
The other nine girls cried out in denial.
“Why did I have to take after my dad?” Alyssa moaned.
Erin Parrish hid her grin as she changed lanes on I-5 in northern California to pass a slow-moving RV. As head coach of Markham College’s women’s volleyball team, she also did the driving for away games. Her assistant coach, Charlotte Prentice, was considered too young at twenty-three to be trusted behind the wheel of a vehicle insured by the college.
Alyssa was the team’s middle blocker because she was six foot one. Erin had met her parents—a mom who, at only five-eight or so, was the shrimp in their family, a dad who had to be six foot six and two younger brothers who’d already shot past Alyssa in height.
“Boys are scared of you because you’re so beautiful,” declared Stephanie Bell, a setter. “And there are lots of guys taller than you.”
Maybe not “lots,” but some.
“Have you met Emmett Stark?” someone asked.
“Eeew!” several girls squealed.
Outright laughing now, Erin glanced at Charlotte, whose face was lit by laughter, too. Emmett Stark, freshman and Markham College’s JV basketball center, would surely grow into his body eventually. Right now, he was so skinny he looked ridiculous.
“We should dress you up as an Amazon for Halloween,” another girl said. Ella Pierce? “Maybe we could use gold paint, and you could carry a spear.”
“Where can we get a spear?” someone else asked eagerly.
“Ohh! I know.” Ginny Simacek bounced in delight. “My brother’s girlfriend did this volunteer thing in Africa, and she brought one home with her! I bet I can borrow it.”
Erin narrowed her eyes at the rearview mirror. Was Ginny wearing her seat belt? Could you bounce if you were wearing one? The girls had a way of taking their seat belts off for “just a minute,” because they had to grab a bag from under a seat or find a shoe that was kicked off, and then, oops, forgetting to fasten them again.
“Charlotte...” Erin began.
Motion caught from the corner of her eye spiked her adrenaline. She turned her head. All she took in was a swirl of dirt and the monster cab of a semitruck roaring straight at them across the median, rearing bigger and bigger. She wrenched the steering wheel and her foot sought the brake, even though she knew it was too late.
Then crunching metal, stabbing pain, screams. And nothingness.
