Silent Killer (8 page)

“Past history,” Jack said.

“She’s a widow now.”

“Yeah, so she is.” He paused briefly before changing the subject. “So, let me know if you can line up that profiler. If you can, I’ll fax him all the info we have.”

“I’ll call you as soon as I know something for sure.”

“Thanks. I appreciate your doing this.”

“No problem.”

“ ’Bye.”

“Take care of yourself, okay?”

“Sure thing.”

“’Bye.”

Maleah clipped her phone back on to the waistband of her shorts but didn’t get up immediately. She could postpone getting in touch with Derek. She could go back to the house, shower and eat dinner first. But delaying the inevitable wasn’t her style. Just do it and get it over with was her motto.

She pulled on her socks, put on her shoes and tied them. After standing up and stretching, she looked out over the lake. She loved staying at Griffin’s Rest, loved the acres and acres of woods, the dirt pathways that meandered here and there, the lake itself and the solitude she found here.

She retrieved her phone, hit the preprogrammed number and waited for Derek to answer. But instead of speaking to the arrogant man himself, she got his voice mail. Breathing a sigh of relief, she left a message, succinctly explaining what she needed from him and giving him Jack’s phone number. If she were lucky, she wouldn’t have to deal with Derek directly.

After Mike had delivered the news about the latest victim, Lorie had closed Treasures for the day. They had come home nearly an hour ago. Cathy’s mother had arrived first, and she’d been in the middle of reassuring her mom that she was perfectly all right when J.B. and Mona arrived on Lorie’s doorstep.

Sensing that everyone, with the possible exception of Lorie, expected her to come unglued at any moment, Cathy felt she needed to say something that would ease their fears. After all, it wasn’t unreasonable for them to expect the worst. A year ago, she had proven just how emotionally unstable she’d been.

While Lorie excused herself and went into the kitchen to prepare iced tea for their guests, Cathy cleared her throat loudly. All eyes focused on her.

“I know y’all are worried about me and you’ve rushed over here because you’re concerned.” She took a deep, calming breath. “I appreciate that, but I promise you that I’m fine. I’m not going to have another breakdown. Not today or tomorrow or ever again.”

“I know you believe that, but this was such a horrible shock,” Elaine said. “Not just for you, but for all of us. To think that the person who killed our dear Mark has killed again…” With tears misting her eyes, she covered her mouth with her open hand and bowed her head.

Mona reached out and clasped Cathy’s hands. “We’re here because we love you. We care. If there’s anything we can do…We should have been there for you the last time. If only we’d known how fragile you were.”

Cathy hugged her mother-in-law, then pulled away and told her, “There’s nothing you could have done. I think my breakdown was inevitable. But I’m completely well now. I’m much stronger, and I can deal with whatever happens.”

“It’s good that you feel you can handle this,” J.B. said, his voice deceptively kind and soothing. “And naturally if there’s anything we can do to help you, we will. But all things considered, I feel it’s best that we cancel Seth’s visits with you…for the time being. Just until we’re sure you’ll be all right.”

Damn him! If he thought he was going to use this as an excuse to keep her son away from her, then he’d better think again. She, not J.B. or anyone else, would decide what was best for Seth.

Cathy all but shoved Mona aside as she marched up to J.B. and glowered at him.

“You must understand that J.B is doing what he thinks is best for you and for Seth,” Mona said pleadingly, apparently afraid of a confrontation between her husband and daughter-in-law.

“Of course she understands.” Elaine glanced back and forth between Cathy and J.B. “Don’t you, dear? J.B. is doing what he knows is best for Seth. That’s what you want, what we all want.” When Cathy didn’t respond, her mother added, “Please tell J.B. and Mona that you agree with their decision, that Seth’s welfare is what’s most important.”

Cathy’s gaze never wavered. She kept it focused directly on her father-in-law. “Of course Seth’s welfare is what’s most important.” Both Elaine and Mona sighed with relief. “But as Seth’s mother, I believe I should be the one to make the decisions concerning Seth, not you, J.B.”

Pulsating with a nervous silence, the room became deadly quiet.

“You’re not in any condition to make decisions for my grandson.” J.B.’s tone had changed to an icy control. “You haven’t been out of that mental institution for two full weeks yet.”

Cathy squared her shoulders and stiffened her spine. There had been a time when she never would have stood up to her father-in-law, but those days were over. He was wrong about her. And she would prove it to him and to anyone else who had doubts about her mental stability.

“I’m not going to argue with you,” she told him. “Not now. But I think you should know—”

“Tea, anyone?” Lorie came into the room carrying a tray of tall, chilled glasses.

And then the doorbell rang.

Lorie handed Cathy the tray, leaned in and whispered, “Keep your cool. Now is not the time or place to do battle with the old buzzard.” Then she went straight into the foyer and opened the front door.

The tension that had been vibrating like a live wire dissipated somewhat as they all turned to see who Lorie had invited into her home. As Lorie escorted the man into the living room, J.B. came forward immediately and held out his hand.

“It’s good of you to come, Brother Hovater.” J.B. shook hands with him, and Mona rushed over and gave him a hug.

While Elaine joined the others in welcoming the newcomer, Lorie subtly eased toward Cathy until she was close enough to say in a soft, low voice, “Looks like your father-in-law called in reinforcements.”

Cathy had met Brother Donnie Hovater, the minister who had been hired as Mark’s permanent replacement, this past Sunday morning when she had attended church services. Her mother had informed her that he’d been in Dunmore for nearly ten months now, he was a widower and his teenage daughter went to school with Seth. Her mother had also informed her that all the single ladies in town considered him quite a catch.

Cathy studied the young and attractive minister. He was no older than Mark had been, perhaps even a few years younger, and he actually reminded her of her late husband. Broad-shouldered and slender, he looked neat as a pin in his tan slacks and navy, short-sleeved shirt.

When Brother Hovater approached her, his hand out, ready to take hers, she hesitated.
Don’t be paranoid. Don’t assume they’re all ganging up on you. They’re not. Everyone here, including J.B., is concerned about you.

“I hope you don’t mind my barging in this way,” he said. “But your father-in-law thought perhaps I could help.”

She shook hands with the minister. “In what way did J.B. think you could help?”

He seemed surprised by her question, but after a moment’s uncertainty, he smiled. “The unfortunate murder that occurred last night in the park has stirred up unpleasant memories for J.B. and Mona, and for you, too, I’m sure. I’m here as your minister and a friend of the family to offer whatever support and advice you might need.”

Cathy stared into his eyes, trying to decide just how sincere he was. She had no reason to doubt him, of course. He was probably a good man who had the best intentions, but the fact that he seemed so chummy with J.B. bothered her. It shouldn’t. After all, J.B. was an elder in the church, and it was only natural that he and the new minister would be on friendly terms.

“That’s very kind of you,” Cathy said. “I appreciate everyone’s concern. I’m sure my father-in-law filled you in on the details of how I reacted the last time a clergyman was brutally murdered in the same fashion my husband was.” She paused to take a breath, and then continued before the preacher could respond. “I can assure you that I’m not on the verge of another nervous breakdown.”

“I apologize if I gave you the impression that I came here because I or your in-laws question your mental health,” Brother Hovater told her, sympathy evident in his hazel eyes. “I’m here for no other reason than to be of service to you, if you need me.”

“Thank you. But what I need right now is to be left alone to deal with my memories and my feelings. I am not an emotional cripple. And what would help me tremendously is if my mother and my in-laws could get it through their heads that I’m not crazy.” Cathy turned and ran out of the living room, knowing her actions would be misconstrued as evidence she was indeed crazy.

She hurried into the kitchen, taking the quickest and easiest escape route out the back door and onto the side yard that separated Lorie’s house from her nearest neighbor’s. Seeking sanctuary under the sheltering weeping willow, Cathy braced her open palms against the tree trunk, tilted her chin down and closed her eyes.

You overreacted, and you know it. You did just what Lorie told you not to do. You lost your cool. You lashed out from sheer frustration.

What would Dr. Milton say?

Cathy smiled.

Give yourself permission to be human, to make mistakes. Having a hissy fit occasionally can be good for you. Don’t bottle up all your emotions.

“Catherine!” Elaine stomped off the back porch and marched toward Cathy, a stern, disapproving expression on her face.

Oh God, just what she didn’t need—her mother reading her the riot act.

She lifted her head, tilted her chin up and squared her shoulders, preparing for battle. It seemed to her that most of the conversations she’d had with her mother from the time she was a little girl had been a battle of wills, battles her mother always won.

Coming up to Cathy there beneath the willow tree, Elaine glared at her. “If you wanted to convince everyone that you’re still emotionally unstable, that little scene back there proved it. Your rudeness to Brother Hovater was uncalled for. And how dare you treat J.B. in such a disrespectful manner. I raised you better than that, or at least I thought I did. I can’t tell you how disappointed I am in you, young lady. You should go back inside right this minute and apologize to everyone.”

“No,” Cathy said.

“What do you mean no?” Elaine stared at her in disbelief.

“I regret that I was rude to Brother Hovater, and I will probably apologize to him, but not this evening. Later. Perhaps at tomorrow evening’s prayer meeting. But as for J.B.—it will be a cold day in hell before I apologize to that man ever again.”

Elaine gasped.

“And another thing, Mother, I don’t give a rat’s ass how disappointed you are in me. Your opinion of me no longer matters.”

Cathy walked off, leaving her stunned mother standing alone in the side yard.

God, she felt good!

Cathy couldn’t ever remember feeling so damn good about doing something so bad. She had talked back to her mother, no doubt a sin that would condemn her to eternal hellfire. And she didn’t care. She had done what she had once believed would be impossible—she had stood up to her mother and survived. Not only had she survived, but she had been set free from a lifetime of knowing she would never live up to Elaine Nelson’s expectations.

As she strolled down the sidewalk at a leisurely pace, her mind savoring the preceding moments of personal glory, she didn’t pay any attention to the passing vehicles on the street.

“Running away from home?” a voice called out to her.

As she stopped and turned toward the sound of the voice, her breath caught in her throat when she saw that Jack Perdue had pulled his car over to the curb and had rolled down the passenger window.

“I might be,” she told him. “Got any suggestions where I should go?”

He slid across the seat, opened the door and said, “Yeah. Run away with me.”

“Okay.” Without hesitation, she got in the car with Jack.

He was right in her face; her shoulder pressed against his chest. They stared at each other for a full minute, one of the longest minutes of Cathy’s life. And then he slid back across the seat to the driver’s side, and she slammed the door shut.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

He grinned. “How about an early dinner somewhere?”

“Where?”

“Is the Catfish Shack still in business?”

“As far as I know. I haven’t been there in years.” Not since the last time he had taken her there.

The Catfish Shack was a seen-better-days restaurant and bar down by the river. The proprietor had a reputation for serving the best catfish and hush puppies in six counties. The music was loud, the beer flowed like water and all the food was to die for. And better yet, Cathy was relatively sure none of her churchgoing friends would be there. The place was a little too lively for their tastes. And much too sinful.

She had been there only once, years ago, on a date with Jack. She had been seventeen and madly in love.

Jack glanced over his shoulder, back at Lorie’s house. “Do you need to tell anyone where you’re going?”

She shook her head.

“You really are running away, aren’t you?”

“Temporarily.”

“Want to talk about it?” he asked.

“No, not really. I’d rather not think about what happened today or a year ago or eighteen months ago. I’d like to forget about all of it, just for a little while.”

“I’ll see what I can do to give you what you want.”

John Earl took his wife’s hands and held them in his. He wasn’t looking forward to telling her the news that was spreading around town like a deadly wildfire. But she had to be told. The local authorities believed there was a serial killer targeting clergymen. If the man found dead in the park today was indeed Father Brian Myers, he would be the killer’s third victim.

“What is it?” Ruth Ann asked. “I can tell by your expression that this isn’t going to be good news.”

He loved Ruth Ann for so many reasons, not the least of which was her strength and resilience. As a team, they had weathered many of life’s storms together. His wife was indeed his helpmate. He could not imagine his life without her, and he knew she felt the same about him. They were friends, life partners and lovers.

“There was a man’s body found this morning in Spring Creek Park,” John Earl said. “The police believe it was murder.”

“Oh, how terrible. It wasn’t someone we know, was it?”

He shook his head. “No.”

She studied him intently. “There’s more to it than just a body being found, isn’t there?”

Tightening his hold on her hands, he nodded. “The victim has not been identified yet, but they believe he was a Catholic priest from Huntsville.”

Ruth Ann drew in a startled breath.

“The man burned to death. They think he was set on fire.”

Emotion swelled in her chest and rose to lodge in her throat.

“There is a good chance that someone out there is targeting clergymen,” John Earl said.

She swallowed hard. “First Mark Cantrell and then that minister from Athens and now…”

“I don’t want you to worry about me. I know that after Mark was killed, you were concerned, and when the second clergyman was killed, your fears only increased. I know how both deaths brought back some painful memories for you and your mother.”

“I think maybe we should consider moving out of state.” Ruth Ann pulled away from him. “Perhaps it’s time for you to do some mission work. We could leave the girls here with Mother, and you and I could spend six months or a year—”

“We can’t just pull up stakes and leave,” he reminded her. “I would have to apply for any type of transfer, and it could take months or longer for me to be reassigned. Besides that, both Charity and Felicity are at an age when they need our guidance more than ever before. And your mother isn’t in good health. She could never cope with two teenagers.”

Ruth Ann wrung her hands together. “I know. I know. It’s just…” She slipped into John Earl’s open arms. “I couldn’t bear to lose you.”

He clasped her chin and lifted her face to his. Then he kissed her forehead. “You’re not going to lose me.”

When she looked into his eyes so pleadingly, he lowered his head and took her mouth with a hunger that bound him to her as surely as their marriage vows did. She clung to him with a desperation that he felt all the way to his bones. He understood. Not only was she battling her fears for him, but the memories of a long-ago night when her parents’ house had burned to the ground. The night her father had died, consumed by the blaze that the fire marshal had later ruled arson.

“You need to tell your mother,” John Earl said as he eased out of her tenacious hold. “While you’re doing that, I’ll speak to the girls and do my best to allay any fears they might have.”

Their gazes locked, each aware of what the other was thinking. In a marriage such as theirs, when the love and commitment were both strong, words were often unnecessary.

John Earl watched his wife as she walked out of his study, a room she had personally decorated for him. He was a very lucky man to have such a devoted wife. Years ago, in the early days of their marriage, he had been uncertain of her love, but never of her devotion. As the years went by, he had come to trust the love she professed for him and now knew beyond any doubt that she was as much in love with him as he was with her.

“Help me, dear Lord, to say whatever my daughters need to hear. I’ve done all within my power to protect them from the ugliness of this world. I need Your continued guidance to lead them along the path of righteousness.”

“Daddy?” Charity called from the open doorway.

He forced a confident, all-is-well smile and motioned to her, inviting her to enter. She came toward him, her younger sister directly behind her. His daughters were quite different in appearance and personality. Although Charity was as pretty as her mother, with her dark hair and eyes, she shied away from makeup and fashionable clothes. She possessed Ruth Ann’s gentle nature and was their studious, conscientious child, the one who strived so hard to please. On the other hand, Felicity had his fairer coloring, his gray eyes and wide mouth, and although not quite as pretty as her older sister, she was far more flamboyant. She kept her hair dyed that hideous black, wore violet contacts and bore the most vulgar tattoos that he had reluctantly agreed for her to get, as proudly as if they were badges of honor. She was his little rebel.

John Earl indicated the overstuffed settee. “Sit down, please. I need to talk to both of you.”

“Whatever it is, I didn’t do it,” Felicity said.

His lips curved in a genuine smile. How many times had his parents heard him, as a teenager, say those very same words of denial? Considering what a hellion he had been in his youth, he had every reason to believe there was hope for Felicity.

Ruth Ann knocked on her mother’s closed bedroom door.

“Yes?”

“May I come in?” Ruth Ann asked.

“Yes, of course.”

When she opened the door, she found her mother sitting on the window seat gazing down at the backyard below. Faye Long was two years shy of her sixtieth birthday, yet she looked much older, as if life had worn her out prematurely. As a child, Ruth Ann had thought her mother was the most beautiful woman in the world, with her willowy figure, her long, lustrous dark hair and her large, expressive brown eyes. Her hair had turned salt and pepper, and her brown eyes were now void of emotion. Dead eyes.

Faye turned halfway around on the window seat and looked up at Ruth Ann. “Are we having dinner early this evening?”

“No, Mother, dinner will be at six-thirty, as usual.”

She wished she could go to her mother, sit at her feet and be wrapped in her arms. But Faye was not capable of giving her the maternal comfort she craved. The last time her mother had touched her had been the night she had dragged her from their burning home. The night her father, Reverend Charles Long, had burned to death.

“John Earl is talking to the girls. We thought it best that he speak to them while I told you about what has happened.”

“My goodness. What on earth is wrong?” Faye rose to her feet.

“Another clergyman was found dead this morning. The authorities believe he was a Catholic priest from Huntsville and that he was deliberately set on fire.”

“Merciful Lord!”

“If there is someone out there killing clergymen in North Alabama, then not one man of God is safe. John Earl could be in danger.” She took several tentative steps toward Faye. “I can’t endure the thought that my husband might become a victim.”

“Don’t you trust the Lord to take care of John Earl?”

“It’s not a matter of trusting the Lord.” Ruth Ann paused in front of her mother and hovered over her, needing an answer to a question she was too afraid to ask. “Mother…please…”

Her mother lifted her head and met Ruth Ann’s questioning gaze head-on, without flinching or even blinking. “I am very fond of John Earl. He’s a good man, a good husband and a good father. I can’t imagine why anyone would want to harm such a man.”

Ruth Ann sighed. “I agree. Thank you.”

Faye folded her hands in her lap, turned back around and looked out the window again.

“I’ll call you when dinner is ready.”

When Ruth Ann stepped over the threshold into the hallway, her mother called her name and then said, “Do you really think I’m that much of a monster?”

Ruth Ann did not reply. She closed the door to her mother’s room. As she walked down the hall and into the kitchen, her eyes misted with tears.

Yvette Meng was one of the most exotically beautiful women that Nic had ever seen. She moved with a fluid grace that made her seem to float instead of merely walk. Every small, perfect feature, from her almond-shaped eyes to her full, sensuous lips, proclaimed her Eurasian heritage. Her remarkable beauty and intelligence was a unique combination of her Chinese father and French mother.

“Please come in.” Yvette gestured a warm welcome with the sweep of her slender arm.

“I appreciate your meeting with me this evening.”

The moment Yvette smiled, Nic realized that she suspected why Nic was here. Maybe it had been a mistake to come here with the intention of confronting her husband’s old and dear friend. But it was too late to back out now. In for a penny, in for a pound.

“My private quarters are not completed yet, but my office is,” Yvette said, her voice like a soft, soothing melody. “We will go there so that we will not be disturbed. I sensed from your phone call that we have much to discuss.”

As Yvette led her out of the large, marble foyer and down the hallway to the right, Nic noted the pale green walls and dark wooden floors. And she was acutely aware of how quiet it was, so quiet you could almost hear a pin drop. Where were all of Dr. Meng’s psychic students?

“Where is everyone?” Nic asked.

Yvette paused by a set of closed French doors, glanced over her shoulder and smiled. “This is my private wing of the retreat. My students have rooms on the other side of the building.”

Yvette swung the double doors open to reveal an eighteen-by-eighteen square foot room with a fireplace and sitting area in one corner and an enormous bay window spanning half the back wall. Her private office reflected her Asian heritage, with a black lacquer desk and chair, no doubt both priceless antiques, facing the windows. Two massive, hand-painted black lacquer chests flanked the fireplace.

Yvette glided toward the windows, paused and gazed out at the lake behind the retreat that Griffin had built for her. Hesitantly, Nic walked over and stood beside her.

“I should have invited you here sooner,” Yvette said. “I have been very busy with the contractor and with making sure my students are settled.”

“You refer to this place as a retreat—is that how you see it?”

Yvette faced Nic. “It is my retreat, yes, but it is more a sanctuary for my students than anything else. And I refer to them as students for lack of a more appropriate term. They are people with unusual gifts that have alienated them from their families, talents that have turned them into outcasts. I, too, have always been an outcast.”

“So everyone living here has psychic abilities of some kind?”

“Yes, and their abilities vary in degree. Most are marginally talented, while two are far more gifted than I am.”

“How many students do you have living here?”

“Seven. Three men and four women.” Yvette focused on Nic’s face. “I see that Griffin has kept his word and not shared any information about my students, not even with you.”

“Then you asked him to keep me in the dark about—”

“Oh, Nicole, I am so very sorry.” Yvette stared at Nic, realization in her dark eyes. “I should have given him permission to tell you. I can see that you are upset because—”

“My husband shouldn’t have needed your permission to tell me what is going on here at Griffin’s Rest. Griff and I are married, and to me that means we don’t keep secrets from each other. We share everything. But for the past year, since you sent your first student, Meredith Sinclair here to live and Griff began construction on your retreat or sanctuary or whatever you want to call it, he has been secretive and so involved with you and your pet project that he’s neglected me and our marriage.”