Silent Killer Part 3

"I thought about it." Jack reached over and placed a hand on Mike's shoulder. "I'm sorry about your wife. I should have come back for her funeral."

Mike shrugged. "You called."

"Yeah, five months later."

"Don't sweat it."

"I haven't been much of a friend, have I?"

"Good enough."

Jack took a deep breath. Mike cleared his throat.

"I thought I'd run an idea by you," Mike said. "That's the reason I came over uninvited."

"You never need an invitation."

"Don't happen to have a couple of beers in the house, do you?"

"As a matter of fact, I do." Jack hitched his thumb toward the back porch. "Want to come inside, or would you rather sit out here?" He glanced at the rusty metal lawn chairs on the porch.

"Let's sit out here and enjoy this weather while it lasts. You know what it'll be like in another month. Hot as h.e.l.l and humid as a steam bath."

"Take a seat. I'll be right back."

Jack returned with the last two beers he had in the refrigerator. Note to self: buy more beer. Note to self: buy more beer. He handed his old buddy one of the cans, then sat down beside him in the faded green metal chair and popped the tab on his can. They stayed there, sipping the cold brews as they stared out at the large backyard, the pile of junk awaiting the garbage truck and the smoke spiraling up and away from the old trash barrel. He handed his old buddy one of the cans, then sat down beside him in the faded green metal chair and popped the tab on his can. They stayed there, sipping the cold brews as they stared out at the large backyard, the pile of junk awaiting the garbage truck and the smoke spiraling up and away from the old trash barrel.

"So what's this idea you want to run by me?"

Mike took another swig from his beer, then held the can between his spread knees. "I sheriff a small, mostly rural county, and our funds are limited."

"Is this where you tell me you've realized you can't afford another deputy?"

"I can afford you, but just barely," Mike admitted. "I'm aware of the fact that you have some physical limitations, but I can't see where that would keep you from becoming a good deputy." Mike paused, obviously weighing his next words carefully. "I thought it might be best if we broke you into the job gradually."

"Meaning?" Jack wasn't sure he liked the sound of this.

"The sheriff's department doesn't actually have anyone working our cold cases, but we've got several unsolved murders that family members have asked us to look into again. I thought it could be a good place for you to start."

"Working the county's cold cases?"

"Yeah. What do you think?"

"I think you've created a job for me, one that sounds a lot like charity."

Mike finished off his beer, then crushed the can between his huge hands. "d.a.m.n it, man, that's exactly what I didn't want you to think. And it isn't true. I need another deputy. Ernie Poole is retiring in a few months, and I need a man to fill his shoes. In the meantime, I want you to work these unsolved murder cases and get the county commissioners and the good citizens off my back."

Okay, there was enough truth to Mike's words for Jack to accept that he hadn't been hired as an act of charity by his old high school buddy.

"How many cold-case murders?" Jack asked.

"Several."

"Several as in three, six, ten..."

"Two," Mike said.

"Two?"

Mike nodded. "I'll have the files on both murders on your desk first thing in the morning. Look them over, study them, dig around to see if you can come up with anything that will shed a new light on either of them."

"How old are the cases?"

"One is five years old. George Clayton, an old geezer, nearly eighty. Somebody robbed him and beat him to death. There were several suspects, but no real proof. We figured his nephew did it, but the boy had an airtight alibi."

"Does the nephew still live around here?"

"He's still in Alabama," Mike said. "He was convicted of a.s.sault and battery and is serving time. He's in the Limestone Correctional Facility."

"What about the other case?"

"That murder case is eighteen months cold. We investigated, but didn't come up with even one suspect." Mike said. "There was another, similar murder over in Athens a year ago. The police chief and I compared notes and agreed that it could have been the same killer, but neither of us had a legit suspect."

"Want to give me some details or..."

"Both our victim and the Athens victim were ministers. Ours a Church of Christ preacher and theirs a Lutheran priest. Both men were doused with gasoline and set on fire."

"d.a.m.n." Jack's breath hissed between his clenched teeth. "Just the two murders? Nothing since?"

"That's right. Just the two."

"Any connection between the two victims other than the fact they were both clergymen?"

"We couldn't find a link of any kind. As far as we know, Father Randolph and Brother Cantrell didn't know each other, had never met, had no friends or family in common."

"Brother Cantrell? Mark Cantrell?"

"Yeah, Mark Cantrell."

"The guy Cathy Nelson married?"

"One and the same."

"Cathy's a widow?"

"Yep."

Jack looked directly at Mike. "Once we get all the new deputy hoopla over with in the morning, I'll take a look at those files and figure out where to go from there."

"If you're thinking about contacting Cathy..."

"Is there any reason I should?"

"None that pertains to her husband's case," Mike said. "Her statement is on file. She was never a suspect. She heard the killer's voice from a distance, but couldn't tell if it was male or female. There's no reason to bother her unless we wind up reopening the case."

"Agreed."

Mike studied Jack. "Mind if I give you some advice?"

"About Cathy?"

"Yeah."

"Go ahead."

"Stay away from her. If you've got an itch that needs scratching, find another woman."

"Are you warning me to stay away from the widow because you've already staked your claim?" Jack asked.

"Nope. Cathy's just a friend. Nothing more. Never has been, never will be. But she's a good woman who's been to h.e.l.l and back. I don't want to see her hurt any more than she's already been hurt."

"And naturally, a guy like me would hurt her." Jack grunted. "Don't worry. I'm not interested in a good woman. I prefer the other kind."

Chapter Four

"How'd you do on that Algebra exam?" Felicity Harper caught up with Seth just as he slammed his locker shut.

Although Felicity was a year older than he was, they were both soph.o.m.ores because of when their birthdays fell during the calendar year.

He had caught a glimpse of her when they left Mr. Bange's cla.s.sroom. Although he hadn't turned around to check, he had known she was following him. After being practically stalked by her for the past seven months, he'd become accustomed to her shadowing him and using any excuse she could find to get his attention. If only he'd moved a little faster, he might have gotten away before she cornered him. He had thought she might get caught up in the crowd of students milling around in the hallways long enough for him to get his backpack out of his locker and escape through the side entrance. No such luck.

It wasn't that he disliked her. She was okay, considering she was a bit of a weirdo, and he was sort of flattered that she obviously had a crush on him. But she just wasn't his type. Besides, since she was his mom's best friend's cousin, he had to try to be nice to her.

Seth shrugged. "I did okay on the exam, I think."

"I'll bet you aced it." She gazed up at him adoringly. "You're so smart."

The way she stared at him gave him the creeps. Heck, most of the time she gave him the creeps. Felicity wore violet-colored contacts, circled her eyes with black liner and painted the lids with purple eye shadow. She wore black clothes nearly all the time and had ever since eighth grade, when she had gotten on some Goth kick. And that dagger tattoo on her neck turned him off completely, as did the small fire-breathing dragon circling her left wrist. She sure didn't look like a preacher's kid. Judging by her appearance, you'd never expect that her parents and older sister seemed pretty much normal.

"You don't have any other exams today, do you?" Felicity asked.

Seth picked up his backpack off the floor and flung it over his shoulder. "Nope. I'm through for today."

"Want a ride home?"

"Is your mother picking you up?" he asked.

"Nooo..." She dragged the word out, exasperation in her voice. "Don't you remember? Charity got a new car for her eighteenth birthday last month. She won't mind giving you a lift."

His grandparents' house was a good eight-block walk, one he made almost every day. Nana dropped him off at Dunmore High each morning, having overruled Granddad's objections, something she seldom did. But his grandfather had expressly forbidden Nana to pick him up in the afternoons. He considered doing that would only coddle Seth.

He had overheard Granddad say to Nana, "You and Elaine spoil that boy way too much. He'll never be a real man with his two grandmothers hovering over him the way y'all do."

If today had been just another warm and sunny May day, he'd have opted to walk instead of considering catching a ride home with kooky Felicity and her sister, Charity. But it had been raining cats and dogs for the past hour, and he didn't look forward to getting drenched in the downpour.

"Sure, thanks," Seth said. "If you don't think Charity will mind."

Felicity lit up like a Christmas tree, as if his agreeing to accept a ride home had been an answer to her prayers. Yeah, okay, so he knew she liked him. She'd sort of had a thing for him for nearly a year now, even though he'd never done anything to encourage her. The last thing he'd ever want to do was hurt her feelings, but sooner or later he was going to have to tell her to back off.

"Come on." Felicity grabbed his arm. "We've got to hurry. Charity will be waiting out front, and she can't stay parked in the tow-away zone forever."

They barely made it out the front door before Felicity popped open a huge black umbrella to shield them from the rain. She led him to the late-model Chevy, a reliable, st.u.r.dy vehicle that most teenagers wouldn't be caught dead driving. She opened the back door and said, "Get in."

Once he and Felicity were inside, Charity pulled out of the tow-away area, not glancing back at them or saying a word. It was only after Felicity had closed the umbrella and Seth had fastened his seat belt and looked forward that he noticed the girl sitting in the front seat with Charity. He knew, without seeing her face, who she was. His heartbeat accelerated. His face flushed. And his p.e.n.i.s came alive.

d.a.m.n! Get that thing under control.

While he concentrated on how his body was reacting to the beautiful Missy Hovater, she turned around and smiled at him.

"Hi, Seth."

G.o.d, she knew his name!

Don't be an idiot, of course she knows your name. Her father took your dad's job. He's the minister where you and your grandparents go to church. You're in Sunday school cla.s.s with her.

"Hi, Missy." His words came out sounding like a frog's croak.

When Missy laughed, the dimples in her cheeks deepened and her eyes sparkled.

Felicity punched him in the ribs and giggled. "What's up with that voice? Were you trying to do an imitation of a bullfrog?"

s.h.i.t!

Oh, d.a.m.n!

I shouldn't even think those words. It's wrong to curse, even in your mind. And I shouldn't be fighting a hard-on. Sins of the flesh. Stay chaste. Don't think evil thoughts. Oh, G.o.d, help me.

Seth didn't know which was worse-being concerned about his numerous sins or the red flush no doubt covering his face. It was h.e.l.l being sixteen-well, almost sixteen-and no one except another teenager could possibly understand how he felt right this minute. His grandparents certainly wouldn't understand.

"Yeah," Seth managed to say in his normal voice. "I'm practicing for tryouts for the school play, The Frog Prince." The Frog Prince."