Silent Killer

Chapter Seven

Jack stood off to the side talking to Chief Ballard while Andy Gamble’s two-person crew carried the body bag out of the park. Jack had gone to school with the lanky, red-headed Andy, who’d been a senior when Jack was a freshman. Burly, bald Wade Ballard was ten years older than Jack, but everybody in Dunmore knew he’d been the local high school baseball star who had gone on to play for the Atlanta Braves for five years until a car wreck had messed up his pitching arm.

The crime scene had been effectively closed off by a ring of tape, but the entire park was temporarily off-limits to all except authorized personnel. A single entry and exit route had been marked off in order to manage the number of people who had access to the scene.

“The ABI guys are on their way,” Wade said. “Mike and I agree that it looks like we just might have ourselves a serial killer, considering this was the third preacher set on fire in the past eighteen months.”

“Technically, this is your case since the park is in the city limits,” Jack said. “But with this crime possibly connected to the Mark Cantrell case, we would appreciate your allowing us to join forces with your team.”

“I figure I need all the help I can get. I put in a call to Chief O’Dell over in Athens, where that other preacher was killed last year.” Scowling, Wade threw up his hand and hollered, “Where the hell did that dog come from? Get him out of here. I want this crime scene as pristine as possible for the state boys.”

While two uniformed policemen chased off the stray dog, Wade grumbled under his breath. Heaving a deep sigh that expanded his massive chest and beer belly, he turned back to Jack. “Reverend Phillips swore that no one in his party got anywhere near the body, but Lord only knows how they might have accidentally contaminated the site.”

“I’d say other than finding an eyewitness to the crime, which is highly unlikely, the most important thing is to get the answers to a few questions. Did the victim die from his burns? Was he doused with gasoline? And can we, with some degree of certainty, connect this crime to the deaths of Mark Cantrell and Charles Randolph?”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Wade nodded, then settled his gaze directly on Jack’s face. “Tell me something. What kind of person would do something like this?”

“I’m far from an expert, but my guess would be that it’s someone who hates clergymen.”

Wade grunted. “Yeah, but why burn them to death? Why not just shoot ’em?”

“Figuring that out is probably a job for a professional profiler,” Jack said.

“Well, we sure don’t have one of them on our payroll, and I don’t know if the ABI boys have got one, either.”

“I think I might know someone who can pull a few strings and get us a former FBI profiler.”

Wade’s beady brown eyes widened with interest. “Tell me more.”

But before Jack could respond, he caught a glimpse of the coroner meandering toward them, seemingly in no hurry. Andy’s long legs created a slow, easy stride. “Hell of a thing to see, a man burned like that,” Andy said as he paused alongside Jack. “It’s enough to give a person nightmares.”

Jack understood only too well how the sight of something so atrocious could embed itself in a guy’s mind and haunt him for years. Even the most seasoned soldier never became completely immune.

“Any preliminary findings you’d like to share?” Wade asked.

Andy shrugged. “I’d say our victim was doused with gasoline, but the lab folks will make a definite determination. I’ll make sure any pieces of clothing that didn’t burn up are stored in an oven bag.”

“Oven bag?” Jack asked.

“Yeah. An oven bag is a polyinylidene bag used for the proper storage of volatile accelerants, especially those that evaporate easily,” Andy explained.

Wade rubbed his meaty fingers across the back of his thick neck. “Can you say for certain that he wasn’t killed first and then set on fire?”

“I can’t say anything for certain officially, not yet, but from my routine exam here at the scene, I’d say he died from his burns. The burns covering the body had inflamed edges where the red blood cells worked to fix the damage.”

“How soon will you be able to give us a positive ID?” Wade asked.

“Depends on how soon we can get hold of Father Brian’s dental records,” Andy said. “That will be the quickest way to ID him, assuming the car that y’all found belonged to our dead guy.”

“We’re ninety percent sure,” Jack said. “Father Brian is missing. No one has seen him since late yesterday evening.”

“Jack here thinks he can get us a professional profiler to compare the three murders.” Grinning, Wade clamped his hand over Jack’s shoulder. “Of course, the city can’t afford any kind of big fee.”

“How about for free?” Jack looked at Andy. “You remember my kid sister, Maleah? She works for the Powell Agency, and they keep a profiler on retainer.”

“Yeah, I remember Maleah,” Andy said. “Do you think she can pull a few strings with her boss and get this guy involved?”

“Maybe,” Jack replied.

“It would sure help if we had some idea what kind of person is doing the killing, assuming all three murders were committed by the same perpetrator,” Wade said.

“Whoever the hell he is, he’s one sick puppy.” Andy glanced at the area near the rose garden-the scene of the crime.

Maleah could barely keep up with Nic as they jogged along the dirt trail by the lake. The problems between Nic and Griff were still unresolved. She had suspected as much the minute Nic called her last night and asked her to come to Griffin’s Rest, not on an assignment but as a friend.

“You’ll be on the payroll,” she had assured Maleah. “But without someone other than Barbara Jean to talk to, I’m going to wind up doing something stupid.” Barbara Jean, the wheelchair-bound girlfriend of Griff’s best friend and right-hand man, Sanders, worked full time at Griffin’s Rest. Since Nic’s marriage to Griff, the two women had become close friends.

“Barbara Jean advises me to be patient and understanding with Griff and accept the situation with Yvette,” Nic had said last night. “She doesn’t question Sanders’s past or present friendship with Yvette. But that’s the way she handles things. I can’t do it her way. I’m on the verge of exploding.”

“I’ll be there first thing in the morning,” Maleah had promised.

She had left her Knoxville apartment at five this morning and arrived in time for breakfast with Nic and Griff. It had taken her less than five minutes to ascertain the situation between her boss and his wife had gotten worse. They had each carried on a conversation with her, but hadn’t said two words to each other. And when Griff left for a business trip, he’d kissed Nic on the cheek. That was a sure sign of trouble in paradise.

So here Nic and she were this afternoon, running like madwomen for the second time today. She hated to tell Nic that all this physical activity wasn’t a cure-all for her troubles.

“Good grief, hold up, will you?” Maleah called to Nic, who was at least fifteen feet ahead of her.

Nic slowed her pace, then stopped and turned around to face Maleah. Perspiration dotted her face and soaked her white T-shirt and gray cotton shorts. “What’s wrong?” She inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly. “Have you got a cramp?”

“No cramp.” Maleah gasped the reply, then leaned over and sucked in large gulps of air. “Let’s sit down and talk. I’m worn to a frazzle.”

“We’ve been talking, but it hasn’t helped much. I’m still pissed as hell.”

Pulling herself up straight, Maleah walked over, lifted her arm and put it around Nic’s shoulders.

“Let’s sit down over there by the lake. If you don’t want to talk, we won’t, but I’m exhausted. I can’t run another twenty feet, let alone another mile.”

“Okay.” Nic offered Maleah a halfhearted smile. “Sorry that I’ve been putting you through this marathon. It’s either this or pack my bags and leave again.”

“What’s leaving going to solve?”

“I don’t know. Nothing, I guess.”

Nic followed Maleah to the edge of the lake, where they found a grassy spot to sit. Nic bent her knees, circled them with her arms and pulled her legs toward her body.

Maleah removed her running shoes and thick cotton socks, then immersed her feet in the cool lake water. “Are we talking or sitting quietly?”

“What is there left to say? I’ve talked your ear off today. I’ve ranted and raved and gone over the same crap time and again.” Nic laughed, the sound hollow and unhappy. “I feel as if I’m spinning my wheels and going nowhere.”

“Haven’t you talked to Griff and told him what’s going on with you?”

“I’ve tried several times this past week to have a conversation with him about how I feel, and his solution is to drag me off to bed and screw me.”

Maleah grinned.

“Don’t you dare laugh,” Nic said. “It’s not the least bit funny.”

“Sorry. I was just thinking how many women would love to have Griffin Powell drag them off to bed and screw them.”

Nic buried her face in her hands.

Maleah patted her back. “I really am sorry. I shouldn’t make light of your problems. I understand. I wouldn’t be happy if I felt as if I were sharing my man with another woman. If I had a man, which I don’t have and do not want.”

“I know Griff loves me, and sex has never been the problem. My insecurities and Griff’s unwillingness to share the whole truth about his past are the problems. And that past includes Yvette and Sanders.”

“If trying to talk to Griff doesn’t work, talk to Yvette,” Maleah suggested.

Nic snapped around and glared at Maleah. “And just what do I say to her? Do I ask her why there’s so much secrecy surrounding this project Griff is helping her with? Or do I ask her why she and Griff haven’t been totally honest with me about their past relationship?”

“Ask her about both. Be honest with her, and maybe she’ll be honest with you. Tell her that Griff’s involvement with her sanctuary for her psychic students is creating tension in your relationship with your husband. From what you’ve told me about Yvette, and from what I’ve learned firsthand, I get the feeling that the last thing she’d ever want to do is cause a rift between you and Griff.”

“I know you’re right about that, but at the same time, I’m not sure she’d tell me anything if I asked her,” Nic said.

“You won’t know until you ask.”

“You’re right. And there’s no better time than now, since Griff will be gone to Switzerland for a few days, tending to some financial matters. Or at least that’s what he told me.”

Nic crossed her arms over her chest in a hugging motion. It must be terrible to feel as if you can’t completely trust the man you love, Maleah thought. She knew Griff as her boss, and as her friend’s husband. While working for him, she had come to realize that Griffin Powell was a very complicated man. But on that score, Nic and Griff were a good match. Nic was rather complex herself.

While Maleah considered what else to say about Nic confronting Dr. Yvette Meng with questions that Griff seemed reluctant to answer, her phone rang. Her ringtone was the theme song from the old Peter Gunn TV series.

She unhooked the phone from where she’d clipped it to the elastic waist of her running shorts and checked the caller ID “Jack, can I call you back later?”

“Sure. When?” he asked.

Nic clasped Maleah’s arm. “No, go ahead and talk to your brother. I’ll head back to the house. After I grab a shower and change clothes, I plan to go see Yvette.”

“Okay.” She gave her friend a reassuring smile. “Afterward, if you want to talk, just knock on my door.”

“Sure thing.” Nic surged to her feet and jogged back toward the house.

Maleah returned to her call. “Okay, I can talk now. What’s up? Things going okay with your job? And how are your plans going for renovations to the old home place?”

“The job’s fine,” Jack told her. “As for the house-I’ve got a couple of contractors coming by later this week to give me estimates on what it’ll cost to put the old beauty in tiptop shape.”

“So, did you call for a specific reason or just to…?”

“I need a favor.”

“Sure. Just ask.” She adored her big brother, always had and always would. In her eyes, he could do no wrong. For as long as she lived, she would owe him more than she could ever repay for protecting her as best he could from their stepfather, that sadistic son of a bitch.

“There’s a chance we’ve got a serial killer on the loose here in northern Alabama. There have been three almost identical murders in the past eighteen months. It would help us if we could get a profile done of the possible killer. Any chance you could help us out?”

Maleah groaned inwardly. Yes, she could help them, and she would. But damn it all, she really hated the thought of asking Derek Lawrence for a favor. From the instant they met, he had rubbed her the wrong way. He was just a little too good-looking and a little too suave and sophisticated for her tastes. And the man was a damn know-it-all. Yes, he was brilliant, with an IQ bordering on genius. And from what Nic had told her, he had come from old money, thus explaining his attitude of superiority, although rumor was that the family had lost most of their vast fortune. Some bad investments and several hefty divorce settlements made by his father and uncle.

“I’ll get in touch with Derek Lawrence tonight,” Maleah said. “Derek doesn’t come cheap, but the Powell Agency has him on retainer, and the agency often provides his services without charge. All I’ll need to do is get Nic to sign off on it, and I know she will.”

“Thanks, Sis. I appreciate it.”

“I take it that this case is connected to one of your cold-case files?”

“Yeah.”

“Which one?”

“The minister who was doused with gasoline and set on fire.”

“Oh.”

“Oh, what?”

“Nothing,” Maleah said. “It’s just that I know that minister was Cathy Nelson’s husband and-”

“Cathy has nothing to do with this.”

“Don’t give me that. I remember the summer you came home on leave and stayed with Mike and his family. I might have been only fifteen, but I was old enough to know what was going on between you and Cathy.” Maleah paused and considered what she was going to say next. “And I remember later on how you reacted when you found out that she’d married Mark Cantrell.”

“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!