Jack’s phone rang just as he unlocked the patrol car. He glanced at the caller ID and grinned.

“Yes, he showed up, in person. He’s quite a know-it-all,” Jack said. “A man with a great deal of information and some interesting theories, but unfortunately nothing that pinpoints our killer.”

Maleah laughed. “You didn’t like him.”

“Do not project your feelings onto me. You don’t like him. I found Derek Lawrence to be intelligent, articulate and intuitive.”

“You didn’t like him,” she repeated.

“I’m withholding judgment until I know him better.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that Mr. Lawrence has decided to stay in Dunmore for a while. Our Fire and Brimstone Killer fascinates him.”

Maleah groaned. “I’m sorry, but you did ask for his help. I had no idea he’d do anything more than send you his report. Just remember that if he steps on any toes and pisses off the wrong people, I was just the go-between, at your request.”

“I promise I won’t shoot the messenger,” Jack assured her.

“Are you at work or…?”

“Heading out for lunch. I’m meeting the contractor, a guy named Clay Yarbrough. Mike recommended him. He added on a sunroom and a deck at Mike’s place.”

“Clay Yarbrough. The name doesn’t sound familiar. He must not be from Dunmore originally.”

“He’s originally from Athens,” Jack said.

“I still can’t believe you’re actually going to restore the old place and live there. A year ago, I’d have bet good money that you’d never ever even spend a night there.”

“A lot has changed in a year.”

“Is Cathy Nelson…uh, Cathy Cantrell still…?”

“Yes. She’s going to work with us on this project. As a matter of fact, she’s meeting us for lunch.”

“Would I be nosy if I asked…?”

“Yes, you would.”

“Well, I’m going to ask anyway. After all, I am your sister, and that gives me certain rights.”

“That works both ways, you know,” Jack told her.

“Yes, I guess it does.”

“I’ll answer your questions about Cathy if you answer a couple of questions about why you dislike Derek Lawrence so much.”

“I’d think that after your meeting him, that would be obvious. He’s a smug, conceited, know-it-all jerk.”

“Hmm…”

“What does that mean?”

“It means if he did something to hurt you, as your big brother, then I’ll have to beat the crap out of him.” Jack barely managed not to chuckle.

“Oh, good God, you think…That’s ridiculous…We never…I never,” she sputtered. “Believe me, I’m not his type, no more than he’s mine.”

“So, baby sister, just what is your type?”

“Nice, sweet, boy next door. Good job, but not rich. Intelligent, but not a genius. Someone who respects my opinions as much as I respect his.”

“In other words, everything that Derek Lawrence is not.”

Maleah groaned. “My turn to ask you about Cathy. Are you going to ask her out on a real date?”

“Maybe. Yeah, I think I probably am.”

“Take it slow and easy, okay? One step at a time. She broke your heart once. I don’t want to see that happen again.”

“You were just a kid when I was involved with Cathy. How do you know she broke my heart?”

“After they shipped you back home and you were in the hospital, full of pain medication, you talked about her,” Maleah said.

“Oh.”

“I love you, you know.”

Jack heaved a heavy sigh. “Yeah, me, too.”

“Have a nice lunch. And remember to take some photos while the remodeling is going on and send them to me. If you change the place enough where it looks completely different inside and out, I might actually come for a visit.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

When they said good-bye and Jack slipped his phone onto the belt clip, he tried not to think about the reasons Maleah hated their childhood home so much. As far as he knew, after he’d left to join the army, Nolan had never laid a hand on her again. He had warned his stepfather that he’d kill him if he ever touched Maleah. But she had lived in that house of horrors for nearly five years after he left, until she’d gone away to college. Even if Nolan hadn’t abused her physically, Jack suspected the psychological abuse had been bad enough. Sometimes, he still felt guilty about leaving her there, but if he hadn’t gotten away when he did, he would have wound up killing his stepfather.

 

Bruce Kelley folded his hands together and pressed them against his forehead. “Dear God, help me.”

He hadn’t wanted to sedate Sandie, but he’d had little choice. This morning’s episode had been the worst she’d ever had. Although she had known who he was, he had been unable to convince her that their three children were now adults and living on their own. She had searched the house in a frenzy of fear and uncertainty, looking for Kim, Kira and Kevin.

“Someone has kidnapped my babies,” she had told him, genuine terror in her eyes. “We have to call the police. Do you hear me, Bruce? Do something. Do something now!”

When he had tried to comfort her, she had balled her hands into tight fists and pummeled his chest repeatedly. And when he had tried to restrain her, she had fought him like a madwoman. He had begged and pleaded, doing his best to calm her without physically hurting her. But she had broken away from him and run out the front door and into the yard, screaming at the top of her lungs. Neighbors had come out of their houses, and when two of the ladies, Glenda Pittman and Judy Calhoun, realized what was happening, they had rushed over to help. But Sandie hadn’t recognized the women, even though both had lived on either side of them for a good many years.

“She needs to be sedated,” Glenda, a pediatric nurse, had told him. “Do you have anything?”

He had nodded. “Some pills the doctor gave us, but—”

“Get them. Judy and I will stay here with her. If we can’t get her to take the tablets, we’ll have to call 911.”

When he had returned with the medication, Sandie had appeared calmer and even agreed to take a couple of the pills. But the moment he’d placed the medication in her mouth, she’d bitten his fingers.

Bruce unfolded his clasped hands and looked at the bandage Glenda had taped over his right index finger after she had stopped the bleeding and cleaned it with an antiseptic.

“She’s sleeping.” Judy Calhoun stood in the doorway of his study. “Glenda said to tell you that she’ll sit with her for a while longer.” She gazed at him sympathetically. “Why don’t you come over to the house and eat lunch with Bob and me?”

“Thank you, but I don’t think I could eat a bite.”

“You need help, someone who can live in and look after Sandie.”

“Yes, I know. Kim is bringing a young woman to Sunday dinner. The girl is one of her students. She’s a bit slow, but she’s strong and healthy, and Kim assures me that she’s very kind.” Tears sprang into his eyes. He turned his head and cleared his throat.

Judy walked into the room, came over to him and placed her hand on his shoulder. “Why don’t you call Kim and see if this young woman can start work today?”

Bruce squeezed his eyes tightly as he accepted the painful reality of their situation. He nodded, but didn’t look at Judy. He didn’t want to face her with tears in his eyes.

She patted his shoulder. “If you need us, call us. Bob and I will do anything we can. You know we think the world of you and Sandie.”

He swallowed hard, gulping down the tears tightening his throat. Several minutes later, alone in his study, Bruce rose to his feet and walked over to his desk. He picked up the phone and dialed his elder daughter’s work number.

 

It is my duty to search for and find the unworthy, those who profess to be servants of the Lord, who pass themselves off as good shepherds but are sinners of the worst kind. I have heard rumors about certain people, but I cannot punish someone unless I am certain of their evil ways.

People say that Reverend Dewan Phillips is a good man, but he is a proud, boastful man. He likes to talk to hear his own voice, and although he sings the Lord’s praises, he often takes credit for himself instead of giving credit to God. I must keep an eye on him. When You give me a sign that he is a sinner in need of chastisement, I will obey Your command.

And most people believe Patsy Floyd is above reproach, that as the first female minister in Dunmore, she should be admired for achieving equality for women in her church. But there are a few people who don’t like her. I’ve heard some say that she does not conduct herself in a humble and pious manner, that she wears expensive clothes and jewelry and flaunts her wealth. Has she displeased You, God? If I find all the accusations against her to be true, I will mark her name in my book, and she will be punished.

And the rumors about the minister at the Presbyterian Church in Decatur cannot be ignored. If Bruce Kelley has hardened his heart and is shirking his duties as a husband, he must be dealt with severely. There is no more grievous sin than one committed against a member of one’s own family. A husband who abuses or abandons his wife, a father who abuses or abandons his child, a son who neglects or mistreats his parents.

Not my will, O Lord but Thine be done. I know that You have chosen me to carry out Your will, that my suffering proves my worthiness, that I am special in Thine eyes. I am the Angel of Vengeance, the Destroyer of Evil, the Executioner of the Unworthy.

 

Jack didn’t like the way that Clay Yarbrough was flirting with Cathy. He wished she would stop smiling at Clay. And why did she have to laugh at all his silly comments? Jack didn’t think he was all that amusing.

“I sure didn’t mean any disrespect to your late husband when I told you about my old man,” Clay said, grinning like an idiot as he stared into Cathy’s eyes. “But my father, God rest his sorry soul, was a mean old son of a bitch, preacher or no preacher.”

Jack cleared his throat. Cathy and Clay looked at him. He tapped his wristwatch.

“I have to return to work in less than fifteen minutes,” Jack said. “We need to get back on track here.”

“Sorry about that.” Clay bestowed his wide smile first on Cathy and then on Jack. “I tend to talk too much instead of listening, but I wanted Mrs. Cantrell to know how sorry I am about what happened to her husband. And whenever preachers come up in the conversation, I naturally think about my dad.”

“You mentioned before we ate lunch that you think it would be a good idea for me to hire an architect to draw up plans for the renovations I want.” Jack glanced at Cathy. “Do you think you could draw up the plans? It would save me the added expense of hiring an architect.”

“Well, yes, I suppose I could,” Cathy replied, a touch of surprise in her voice. “The plans wouldn’t be the same as a professional architect would do, but…” She paused and smiled at Jack. “I can’t believe that you remembered I wanted to be an architect.”

“I remembered the plans you showed me for your dream house,” Jack said. “If I recall correctly, the house was a modern version of a Victorian, with gingerbread trim, a turret and a porch gazebo.”

“I don’t have a problem with Mrs. Cantrell drawing up the plans,” Clay said. “They don’t have to be professional quality. I’ve had clients who drew up their own plans, and somehow, someway, I managed to give them what they wanted.”

“Actually, I took some night classes at the junior college right after Lorie and I opened up Treasures of the Past.” Cathy didn’t even glance at Clay; her gaze focused directly on Jack. “If you’ll tell me exactly what you want, I’ll do my best to transfer that into something resembling what an architect would produce for you.”

“Sounds great,” Clay said. “And I’d be more than happy to help you out. Sometimes I have to sketch out things for a client myself, and if you need any tools of the trade, I’m sure I can round ’em up for you. What say we have dinner tonight and—”

“The lady already has dinner plans.” The words were out of Jack’s mouth before he realized that Cathy might object to his high-handed manner. He looked at her pleadingly. “That is…”

“Jack’s right,” Cathy said as she turned to Clay. “I’m having dinner with my son tonight. I appreciate the offer to loan me your supplies, but I have my own, everything from trimmers and drafting templates to a sketch board and parallel rulers and gliders.”

“Well, another night then,” Clay said. “Maybe you and your son would like to go over to Huntsville for dinner and a movie. How old is your boy?”

“Seth’s fifteen. But, you see, I haven’t started dating.” She cut a quick glance Jack’s way. “Not officially.”

“If we take your boy along with us, it won’t exactly be a date, but I tell you what—consider it an open invitation. When you do start dating, just let me know.”

Clay slid back his chair and stood. He grinned at Cathy, and then offered Jack his hand. Jack stood.

“I’m ready to start when you are,” Clay said. “I’ll get an inspector out there on Monday to see where we need to start on structural repairs. And as soon as I get Mrs. Cantrell’s plans, I’ll have the carpenters go right to work.”

Jack shook Clay’s hand and walked him halfway to the restaurant’s front entrance. He wanted to tell the man to stay away from Cathy, to back off and leave her alone. But he thought better of the idea, sensing that she would resent him running interference for her. She’d made it clear that she was in charge of her own life.

When he got back to the table, Cathy didn’t question him about his attitude toward Clay; instead, she smiled warmly, a look of excitement in her blue-green eyes.

“Thank you for allowing me to draw up the plans for remodeling your house. I haven’t been this excited about a project in I don’t know when. Never, actually.” She laughed.

He liked the sound of her laughter. “I’m glad you’re excited about it.”

“I’ll need your input as soon as possible, but since both of us have to go back to work right away and I’m having dinner with Seth and his grandparents tonight, maybe you could drop by my house tomorrow evening and we can discuss everything then. Tomorrow morning the movers are bringing my furniture out of storage to the house I’m renting, but by tomorrow evening, I’ll need a break. Of course, if you have other plans…”

“You mean unless I have a date?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t have a date,” he told her. “And I’d like to stop by and discuss my plans with you. But I’ll tell you right now that although I have some basic ideas about restoring the old place, I’d like for you to help me decide just what to do. Like, what do you think of adding a gazebo on the porch? And you can design the master bathroom for me. I thought I could convert one of the bedrooms. Then there’s the kitchen—you’ve already mentioned some ideas on how to modernize it and yet at the same time retain its Victorian heritage.”

“You—you want me to make all these decisions? Are you sure? I mean, this is your home. It should reflect your tastes.”

“It’s a home meant for a family,” he said. “That’s what I want it to reflect. I want it to have a similar feel to the way it was when Maleah and I were kids, and my father…” He paused and huffed quietly. “I want to erase Nolan Reaves from every inch of the house and grounds.”

She reached across the table and clasped his tight fist. He stared at her small, delicate hand lying on top of his tense knuckles, and then he looked up at her. “I understand. You told me some of the things that horrible man did, the way he treated you and Maleah and your mother.” She squeezed his hand. “I promise you that I’ll help you make your house a home again.”

 

After a surprisingly pleasant dinner with her in-laws, her mother, Seth, Brother Donnie Hovater and his daughter Missy, Cathy pulled her son aside and told him she needed to speak to him alone.

“That would be kind of rude, wouldn’t it?” he said.

“I need five minutes of your time. Surely that’s not too much to ask.”

Seth nodded, then walked across the living room and spoke quietly to his grandfather. J.B. glanced across the room at her, a questioning glint in his eyes.

“I told Granddad that I wanted to show you my room,” Seth said.

“Thank you for thinking of an excuse so that we can have a few minutes alone.”

As they headed for the hallway, Seth said loud enough for the others to hear, “It’s my dad’s old room. Nana got some of Dad’s stuff out of the attic, stuff like his baseball glove and bat. We hung them on the wall over my bed. And we put together a photo album of pictures of Dad from the time he was a baby to when I was born.”

Seth opened the door to his bedroom and flipped the wall switch. The overhead light, with its two sixty-watt bulbs, illuminated the twelve-by-twelve space. This room didn’t resemble Seth’s old room in the parsonage; instead it looked, in an almost eerie way, like a shrine to Mark Cantrell.

Cathy swallowed and held her thoughts at bay, determined not to say or do anything that would upset her son. But seeing this room only reinforced her determination to regain custody of Seth. She didn’t want him to forget Mark, but holding Mark up as some saintly figure that Seth had to live up to was wrong. Had filling this room with all of Mark’s boyhood things been Mona’s idea or had it been J.B.’s? Or perhaps it had been a joint endeavor. After all, Mark had been their only child. His younger brother, for whom Seth was named, had died as an infant. What was it like for J.B. and Mona to have lost both of their children? Her heart ached for them, but she was not willing to give them her son as a replacement for his father.

“Why didn’t you and Dad ever tell me that he’d been married before?” Seth asked, the question coming from out of the blue.

“What?”

“When Nana and I were going through the old photograph albums, I saw Dad’s wedding pictures from his first marriage,” Seth told her. “Nana said that Dad’s first wife died. Her name was Joy.”

“Yes, I know.” Cathy hadn’t thought about Mark’s first wife in a long time. “She died when she was quite young.”

“Nana said she had cancer.”

“An inoperable brain tumor.”

“Why didn’t y’all tell me about her?”

“There was no reason to,” Cathy explained. “Mark’s first wife died several years before we married. She had nothing to do with our life, nothing to do with you. And, well, it made Mark unhappy to talk about Joy.”

“Did you mind that he’d been married before?” Seth asked. “Were you jealous of her? Did you think Dad might have still loved her?”

“My goodness, what strange questions for a fifteen-year-old boy to ask.”

“I asked Granddad about her.”

“Did you?” She could only imagine what J.B. had had to say about Saint Joy. During the first few years of her marriage to Mark, she had been forced to listen to her father-in-law sing the woman’s praises.

“He said Dad never got over losing her, that, well, that she was the love of his life.”

Damn, J.B. Why on earth would he say such a thing to Seth? “I was never jealous of Joy. Your father loved me. He was happy in our marriage, and he adored you.”

Apparently remembering the good life the three of them had shared, Seth smiled. “I sure do miss Dad.”

“I miss him, too.”

“Do you?”

“Of course I do. And I miss you, Seth.” He had given her the opening she needed. “You know how much I want you to come and live with me. I’ll be moving our furniture into the rental house tomorrow morning.”

Seth stared down at the floor. “Granddad doesn’t believe—”

“I don’t care what J.B. believes. I need to know what you want. Do you want to come and live with me?”

“Granddad would never agree. You know what he thinks.”

“Yes, I know what he thinks. What do you think?”

“I guess I’d like to be two people.” He glanced at her quickly and then looked back down at the floor. “One of me could stay here with Granddad and Nana and the other me could go live with you.”

God, she hated doing this, hated making her son choose between her and his grandparents. But it wasn’t her fault that he was being put in this position. It was J.B.’s fault.

“But there’s only one you—only one Seth Nelson Cantrell. As much as your grandparents love you and you love them, you’re my son, not theirs.”

“Maybe, if we give Granddad time, he’ll come around.”

“And if he doesn’t?” Cathy knew that waiting for J.B. to change his mind would be like waiting for the sun to rise in the west and set in the east.

“I don’t know. What do you want me to say?” Seth curved his right hand into a fist and punched it into the open palm of his left hand.

Cathy curled her hand over his shoulder. He looked right at her. “I’ve hired a lawyer, Elliott Floyd. I want you to talk to Mr. Floyd and tell him how you feel about living with your grandparents and about the possibility of coming to live with me.”

Seth’s eyes widened. “Why did you hire a lawyer?”

“That’s a very good question.” Elaine stood outside in the hallway, her hard gaze directed at Cathy.

“This is none of your business, Mother. This is between my son and me.”

“If you’re thinking of suing for custody, I think you should know that I will side with J.B. and Mona, and I’ll testify that I do not believe you’re stable enough to—”

“You do whatever the hell you have to do.” Cathy barely managed to control the anger inside her. “And I’ll do what I have to do.”

“Don’t argue, please,” Seth said. “Grandmother, don’t say anything to Granddad and Nana about this.”

“I think they should know what your mother has planned,” Elaine told him.

“Please don’t tell them.” When Elaine hesitated, Seth added, “If I promise not to go and talk to Mr. Floyd, will you promise not to tell Granddad?”

Elaine smiled triumphantly. “I promise. Now go on back to the living room and tell everyone that your mother and I will be along shortly.” Seth hesitated; then, without a backward glance, he left the room.

Elaine turned to Cathy. “Think about what Seth needs, not about what you need. You’ve become quite a selfish person, haven’t you? The daughter I raised never would have—”

“I’m still the daughter you raised, Mother. I’m the end product of all your years of tender, loving care. You can’t imagine how much I learned from your example. You taught me exactly what kind of mother I don’t want to be.”

Elaine gasped. “I had hoped they could help you at Haven Home, but apparently they taught you that it’s acceptable to be disrespectful to your mother. You have no idea how you disgraced me and J.B. and Mona when you pulled that stunt last year—going stark raving mad the way you did. That was bad enough, but then you had to check yourself into that place in Birmingham when you knew everyone in town would be aware of where you were. When I look at you right now, I don’t know who you are, but you are not my daughter.”

“If that’s the way you feel, I’m sorry. But I’m not going to let you and J.B. or even Mona keep Seth from me and try to turn him into a carbon copy of Mark. He’s my son, and he is his own person. I’ll fight all of you to see that he has a chance to spread his wings and soar with the eagles.”

“Soar with eagles. What are you jabbering about? You’re talking nonsense again.”

“No, Mother, I’m telling you like it is.”

Cathy turned around and walked away, leaving her mother with her mouth gaping wide open.