While working with the Fire and Brimstone Killer task force, comprised of local, regional and state law-enforcement officials, Jack had come to respect Derek Lawrence. Heck, he was beginning to like the guy, something Maleah wouldn’t want to hear. Yeah, sure, the man could rub you the wrong way with his cockiness, but once you got past that character flaw, you had to admire his brilliant mind, his great sense of humor and his keen insight into human nature. It wasn’t that he and Derek had become good friends. A relationship like that was built over time and required a foundation of trust that had to be earned. But they had reached the drinking-buddies stage, and each night this past week, they had grabbed a quick bite and a few beers together before heading their separate ways. Last night, Mike had joined them and they had talked business before their minds wandered off in a different direction after a couple of rounds. The subject had changed from how to catch a serial killer to the bra size of the bosomy waitress and bets on whether or not she had implants.

This morning, Jack needed caffeine. He poured himself another cup of the office sludge that vaguely resembled coffee and tasted more like thin tar. Having had way too much on his mind at bedtime, he hadn’t drifted off to sleep until after two this morning, and then he hadn’t slept worth a damn. A war-related nightmare that he preferred not to think about in the hard, cold light of day had interrupted his four hours of on-and-off sleep. And right now, he was feeling the aftereffects. He placed his mug on the desk, pulled out his chair and sat. After taking a couple of sips of the strong, hot brew, he put the mug aside and stared at the stack of file folders beside his computer.

The task force was no closer to finding their killer than when the investigation first started. Without any witnesses and with no definitive evidence linking the three murders to a specific person, they were pretty much spinning their wheels. Out there somewhere, possibly living in Dunmore, was a murderer who, according to Derek, probably seemed relatively normal. He or she could be anyone’s next-door neighbor, a regular guy or gal, someone who, on a day-today basis, looked and acted like everyone else. But a monster existed inside this killer.

“You’ve got to be a really sick bastard to be able to set another human being on fire,” Lieutenant Wayne Morgan, the ABI agent who headed the Fire and Brimstone task force, had said during their most recent meeting. His statement had been a consensus of the others on the task force.

So, how did you recognize a monster if he or she didn’t have horns and a tail? If this person spit fire, had glowing red eyes or their head twirled around and around, it would make law enforcement’s job a lot easier.

If their killer stayed true to form, he or she wouldn’t kill again for a good while. Mark Cantrell had been killed more than eighteen months ago, and then, six months later, Charles Randolph had met his maker. Father Brian Myers had become the third victim, murdered almost a year after the second clergyman’s death. Would the killer wait six months or even a year before striking again? Derek seemed to think that it would be a lot sooner.

“Call it gut instinct,” Derek had told them, “but I believe there will be another similar murder sometime in the next few months.”

“There was six months between the first two murders, then nearly a whole year before the killer struck again,” Huntsville police detective Jeremy Vaughn had said at yesterday’s meeting. “What makes you think he’s going to strike again so soon?”

“Other than going by my instincts, you mean? Nothing, really. Just an educated guess. There’s a fury inside our killer that is bound to intensify as time goes by. All that’s needed is the right incentive, and he or she could go into a killing frenzy.”

A killing frenzy!

Jack knew all about killing. When he’d been in the Rangers, he had not only witnessed horrific murders more times than he could count, but he, too, had killed—numerous times. It was all a part of being a soldier, part of being at war. It was kill or be killed. And although he was no longer a soldier, no longer living in a war zone, he was now a member of a select group of men and women who fought crime on a daily basis.

The one thing everyone on the task force agreed about was the fact that another murder was imminent. Jack couldn’t help wondering how Cathy would react when another clergyman was killed.

Damn! He didn’t want to think about her so much, but she’d been on his mind all week. Although he hadn’t seen her since Sunday night, she had phoned yesterday to tell him she had finished the preliminary plans for renovating his house. The call had been brief and to the point. They were meeting for lunch today, a strictly business lunch. Yeah, sure. He didn’t for one minute believe that anything could ever be strictly business between Cathy and him.

My life is far too complicated already to have to deal with an affair with you or anyone else. He had replayed her words over and over inside his head for the past five days and knew he had to accept the fact that she meant what she’d said. But God in heaven, the way she had responded to his kiss told him that her body was more than ready to take a lover. And he wanted to be that lover.

You and I are friends, and that’s all I can handle right now. So if you want to date someone else, I’ll understand. I won’t like it, but I’ll understand.

He had gotten along just fine without Cathy in his life for the past seventeen years. He might want her, but he didn’t need her. He just needed a woman. Any woman would do.

Okay, if that’s the way you really feel, why aren’t you dating someone else? he asked himself. Why haven’t you gone out and gotten yourself laid?

Damned if I know.

Cathy told herself that she had bought a new dress because she needed to gradually replace old clothes with new. But if she were completely honest with herself, which she tried to be these days, she’d have to admit that her lunch date with Jack had influenced her decision to purchase a new outfit.

After she emerged from her car, she adjusted the navy bolero jacket she wore over her red and white striped sundress. The navy purse and shoes were stock items that had been a part of her wardrobe for several years, as were the small gold hoop earrings. But the five inexpensive little red, white and blue bangle bracelets were a recent purchase. She could tell herself that she simply wanted to look nice for a client, but that would be a half-truth. Of course, she always wanted to look her best, but she had gone to extra trouble and expense to impress Jack.

Sighing heavily because she knew that she was sending him mixed signals, Cathy squared her shoulders and walked toward the restaurant entrance. If she was smart, she would sever her ties to Jack. After today, she should turn the house-renovation project over to Lorie and tell Jack that they couldn’t date. She’d been a fool to think she could keep him at arm’s length, not when she still had feelings for him. What if they fell in love again? How would that affect Seth?

With her portfolio containing all the renovation plans she had worked on every night this week tucked under her arm, Cathy entered the restaurant. The Cedar Hill Grill, which had opened only a couple of years ago, was the nicest place in town and was locally owned and managed by Patsy and Elliott Floyd’s twenty-five-year-old son, Drew.

An attractive young hostess with a pleasant smile met Cathy. “Table for one?”

“No, I’m meeting someone. Mr. Perdue. I’m probably a little early.”

“Not at all. Mr. Perdue is already here.” The hostess, whose name tag read Krista, led Cathy straight to a secluded back booth, where Jack sat with a glass of iced tea in his hand.

The moment he saw her, he set the glass down, slid out of the booth and stood to greet her. Wow! He looked great, all six-two of him, with his sun-streaked hair and piercing blue eyes. Having a tall, muscular build, he was the type of man who looked good in a uniform, even the standard sheriff’s department brown slacks and shirt.

He smiled. She smiled.

She could tell that he wasn’t sure whether to shake her hand or give her a quick hug. She made the decision for him. After propping her portfolio up against the back of the booth, she gave Jack a brief, friendly hug. Perhaps it hadn’t been a smart move, not if she intended to end their new relationship before it went any further, but hugging him seemed the natural thing to do.

After she slid into the booth and picked up the menu lying on the table between them, Jack sat down across from her.

“Lunch first or business?” he asked.

“Lunch, please. I’m starving. I skipped breakfast this morning.” She kept her gaze fixed on the menu. “Yum, everything looks good.”

“I’ve narrowed my choices down to either a cheeseburger and fries or a rack of ribs.”

“I love ribs, but they’re awfully messy.” The last thing she wanted was to accidentally drop barbeque sauce on her new dress.

Their waitress came over to the booth and asked Cathy, “What would you like to drink?”

“Sweet iced tea with lemon, please.”

“Yes, ma’am. Are y’all ready to order?”

Jack looked at Cathy, who replied, “Yes, I am. I’d like the half sandwich and cup of soup—club sandwich and vegetable soup.”

The waitress turned to Jack.

“A rack of ribs,” he said. “With fries. And more tea.”

“Be right back with your drinks.”

Alone again, Cathy and Jack looked at each other. She realized he was as nervous as she was. One of them had to say something about what had happened this past Sunday night. The kiss they’d shared had dominated her thoughts all week. As much as she wanted Jack, more now than she had as a teenager, she couldn’t risk making a mistake by falling in love with him all over again. It had taken her such a long time to stop loving him, to put him in the past where he belonged and move on with her life. Thank God when she and Mark had married, he’d still been in love with his first wife, so he had understood her feelings for Jack. In the early days of their marriage, they had talked to each other about their lost loves, but all that changed after Seth was born. Oddly enough, Seth had been the glue that cemented their marriage and continued to be the glue that held them together until the day Mark died.

“Penny for your thoughts,” Jack said.

Slightly startled, Cathy snapped out of memory land and came back to the present moment. She smiled. “I was thinking about Seth.” It was a half-truth.

“How’s he doing?”

“I haven’t seen him since Sunday, but we’ve talked on the phone every day. J.B. has kept Seth grounded, and I don’t entirely disagree with him doing that.”

“Do you still plan to put off taking your in-laws to court?”

“Yes. I prefer to settle the custody matter out of court, if at all possible. For Seth’s sake.”

“Do you really think your father-in-law will eventually hand Seth over to you without putting up a fight?”

Cathy sighed. “I hope so. Donnie believes that, given time, J.B. will see reason.”

“And you think Donnie Hovater has all the answers, that he knows J.B. Cantrell better than you do, even though he’s known him for less than a year and you’ve known the old goat for what—more than sixteen years?”

Cathy laughed. “Old goat, huh?”

“I could have been really blunt,” Jack said. “I’m sure I could have come up with more explicit words to describe your father-in-law.”

“Actually, old goat is fine.” She glanced down at the table, avoiding Jack’s steady gaze. “J.B. isn’t a bad man. He’s not cruel or evil, not the way—” Cathy stopped midsentence, realizing what she’d been about to say.

“Not like Nolan Reaves.” Jack finished the sentence for her. “J.B. didn’t physically abuse his wife and kids. He didn’t make life a living hell for people he professed to love. That makes J.B. a better man than my stepfather, but it doesn’t make him a good man. I get the feeling that your husband’s father has committed his share of mental and emotional abuse, at least to some degree.”

“Maybe.” Cathy hated to admit the truth. “Yes, okay. J.B. isn’t a saint. And he’s almost as good at emotional manipulation as my mother is. But it’s not as if he consciously intends to harm anyone.”

Jack lifted his brows in a manner that expressed his doubts. “I realize how you live your life is none of my business, and I have no right to tell you what to do or influence what decisions you should make about your son. But you have to know that your father-in-law has spent the past year manipulating Seth. Don’t you want to put a stop to that as soon as possible?”

“Like you said, my life and my son are none of your business,” Cathy snapped.

“Is your life any of Donnie Hovater’s business?”

Cathy’s gaze met Jack’s head-on just as the waitress returned with their drinks. As soon as she placed their glasses on the table and left, Cathy took a deep, calming breath before responding to Jack’s question.

“I didn’t meet you for lunch today to discuss Seth or J.B. or Donnie,” she reminded him. “I’m here as your design consultant.” She patted the large portfolio propped beside her against the back of the booth. “And your amateur architect.”

“And as a friend?” he asked.

“Yes, of course.”

“If I promise to keep my nose out of your personal business, will you go to dinner and the movies with me tonight? We could drive over to Huntsville and—”

“I already have plans.”

“Do you really have other plans, or is that your way of telling me to back off?”

“If we can have dinner and go to the movies as friends only, I’ll be free next weekend,” she told him. “Tonight, I do have plans with my son. He and I are going for dinner and then bowling with Donnie and Missy. And J.B. has agreed to let Seth spend tonight and tomorrow night with me.”

“That’s great, honey.”

“No comment about my spending time with Donnie?”

“Your life, your business.”

She smiled.

“How about I call you midweek next week and we’ll make plans.” He added, “As friends.”

They ate in relative silence. Cathy felt the tension between them dissipate slightly during their shared meal, but that live-wire sexual connection couldn’t be severed. It was far too strong, and there didn’t seem to be a damn thing she could do about it.

As they sipped coffee, which they had ordered in lieu of dessert, Cathy lifted the portfolio, laid it on the table and opened it to reveal her handiwork. “Let me show you what I’ve come up with for the exterior first. I’ve included a porch gazebo that I think you’ll like.”

“If you like it, I’m sure I will.”

“Helping with the restoration of an old Victorian home is a wonderful experience for me. I may never have my dream home, but doing something like this comes in a close second.”

“Have you thought about going back to school and getting your degree?” Jack asked as he flipped through the professional-looking plans she had drawn for his house. “These are good, honey. Really good.”

“Thank you. And funny you should ask about my going back to school. I’m definitely considering it. But not until I have the situation with Seth worked out. Who knows, when he goes to college, I may go with him.”

They both laughed, and for the first time since she had arrived at the restaurant, Cathy relaxed.

That afternoon, when Mike had invited Jack to go along with him and his kids to Dutton’s Bowling Alley that night, he had declined. He figured the last thing he needed was to run into Cathy and Preacher Hovater. But before his shift ended, he told Mike that he’d changed his mind. What difference did it make if he and Cathy were at the same place at the same time? They weren’t even dating, at least not officially. And she’d made it perfectly clear that she wasn’t ready for anything more than friendship from him or any other man.

“Great. Meet us around seven and we’ll grab a bite there,” Mike had said. “They’ve got halfway decent burgers and dogs and the best greasy onion rings in the county.”

Jack had considered trying to find a date to take with him, but realized that since returning to Dunmore there had been only one woman on his mind. His female acquaintances were limited. He knew the two female deputies, but one was married and the other had a steady boyfriend. And he knew Lorie, but considering her long-standing friendship with Cathy, she was off-limits. Besides, Mike wouldn’t appreciate him showing up at the bowling alley with his old lover.

Five minutes into their meal, with Hannah seated at the booth alongside Mike and M.J. beside Jack, Mike’s gaze fixed on something or someone behind Jack.

“Did you know Cathy would be here tonight?” Mike asked.

“Who’s Cathy?” Hannah looked up at her father.

“Yeah, she mentioned it when we had a business lunch today,” Jack replied.

Looking squarely at Jack, Mike answered his daughter. “Cathy is Mrs. Cantrell. She’s an old friend of Jack’s and mine.”

“Oh, like Miss Lorie,” Hannah said.

“Sort of,” Mike mumbled.

“Hey, it’s a free country,” Jack said. “Why should I have missed the chance to spend a fun evening with you, Hannah and M.J. just because my path might cross with Cathy and her date?”

Mike’s eyes widened. “She’s dating the preacher who took over her husband’s congregation?”

“They’re just friends.”

“Hmm…Apparently.” Mike chuckled. “Most people don’t take their teenage kids along with them on a date.” Suddenly an odd expression crossed Mike’s face. He lowered his voice. “Don’t look now, but here they come.”

“Huh?” Jack turned around at the exact same moment Cathy walked by with her date and their kids.

Cathy paused, a startled look in her eyes. “Good evening.” She glanced from Jack, who rose to his feet immediately, straight to Mike. “This is a popular place tonight.” She smiled. “How’s the food?”

“Not half bad,” Mike said as he stood.

“Evening, Deputy.” Donnie Hovater extended his hand. “Good to see you again.”

Jack nodded, shook the preacher’s hand and sat back down.

He didn’t like this guy. Yeah, sure, he resented Cathy spending time with a man who had to remind her of her dead husband. But it was more than that. Jack’s gut instincts picked up some weird vibes from the preacher man.

“Enjoy your evening,” Cathy said, deliberately avoiding eye contact with Jack.

“Yeah, you, too,” Mike said when Jack remained silent.

As soon as the foursome was out of earshot, Mike sat down, his face crunched in a disapproving frown. “That went well, don’t you think?” he said sarcastically. “Why didn’t you just sock the guy in the jaw instead of shaking his hand?”

“Why should Jack have hit Brother Hovater?” Hannah asked.

“Yeah, you told us to never start a fight,” M.J. added.

“Jeez,” Mike grumbled under his breath. He pulled out a ten from his wallet and handed it to his son. “Take Hannah with you and y’all go get ice cream for dessert.”

As soon as his children headed off toward the nearby concession stand, Mike leaned forward and said, “What’s going on between you and Cathy?”

“Nothing.”

“Don’t give me that. The vibes between you two were so intense, I’m surprised—”

“I want her. She wants me. But she’s not ready for anything more than friendship.” Jack slid out of the booth and stood. “I think I’ll pass on the bowling. Thanks for inviting me.”

“Running away won’t solve your problem.”

“A smart soldier knows when to retreat and work on new battle plans.”

Mike shook his head. “Is that how you think of your relationship with Cathy, as a battle? You think Donnie Hovater is your enemy?”

“I think he wants Cathy,” Jack said. “And I damn well don’t intend to let him have her.”

Jack didn’t wait around to hear what else Mike had to say. He walked out of the bowling alley and went directly to his car. After sliding behind the wheel, he sat there and stared through the windshield into the dark night sky.

What the hell was the matter with him? Hadn’t he decided, just this morning, that what he needed was to get laid? Cathy Nelson Cantrell was not the only woman in the world, not even the only woman in Dunmore, Alabama. If all he wanted was a one-night stand, he could go to any bar in Dunmore or nearby Decatur, Athens or Huntsville and probably have his pick.

As for Donnie Hovater, if Cathy preferred his type—Mark Cantrell’s type—then who the hell cared? He’d never fought for the rights to a woman, had never known one worth fighting for, except maybe his mother and definitely his sister. So why did he want to beat the living daylights out of the preacher, stomp him to the ground, walk over him and claim his prize?

Jack slammed both fists down against the steering wheel. Cathy would sure as hell love being thought of as a prize, wouldn’t she?

That woman has turned you inside out and tied you into knots.

But he couldn’t blame her. It wasn’t her fault. Some people just had an undeniable chemistry that made it difficult for them to keep their hands off each other. It had been that way for Cathy and him seventeen years ago. It was still like that for the two of them.

Jack inserted the key into the ignition, started his Corvette and headed toward Huntsville. It was Friday night, and the bars would be open well into the morning.

The house was deadly quiet as she slipped out of her bedroom at eleven-thirty. No one would miss her. Even if her bed was empty, it would be assumed that she was outside in the gazebo where she often went at night when she couldn’t sleep. No one bothered her there while she sat alone in the darkness. It was her only refuge on earth.

The doctors had given her a prescription for non—habit-forming sleeping pills, and for a while she had pretended to take them. Finally, she had admitted that she didn’t want to take drugs. Her body was a temple, not to be abused or defiled.

“Know ye not that your body is the temple of the Holy Ghost which is in you, which ye have of God, and ye are not your own. For ye are bought with a price: therefore glorify God in your body, and in your spirit, which are God’s.”

She knew her Scriptures, had learned chapter and verse from her earliest childhood. God’s holy words about the sanctity of the body were found in I Corinthians 6:19–20.

Drugs were of the devil.

The devil lived in and worked through human beings, even those who professed to be His prophets and teachers of His divine word. God despised wickedness. He punished those who sinned against Him. But blasphemers were the most despised of all sinners, those who set themselves up as pure and holy, pretended to be doers of good deeds when in truth their hearts were black with sin.

She clutched the car keys in her hand. Since the houses were relatively close together, the sound of a car starting would go unnoticed. Cars came and went at all hours, especially on weekend nights. If anyone did discover that she was not at home in bed asleep, she would have no trouble convincing them that she had been restless and hoped taking a drive would relax her. Even if there were consequences, she would deal with them. All that mattered tonight was for her to accomplish her goal.

She was on a mission for God.

The drive to Decatur, to the Kelley house, would take approximately thirty minutes. She shouldn’t be there longer than ten minutes, fifteen at the very most. And then the return drive would take another thirty minutes. She should be back home and in bed again by one o’clock.

As she eased the car out of the driveway and onto the street, she prayed for guidance and protection. If the Lord wanted her to continue her work, to destroy more of the world’s most vile sinners, then He would keep her safe. He would watch over her and never deliver her into the hands of His enemies.

As the miles passed by, she alternated between planning and praying. The gasoline can was in the car trunk, and the Pocket Torch lighter was in the glove compartment.

“Help me, merciful God, my loving heavenly Father. Guide my hand in Thy service. I will do Thy will.”

If Reverend Kelley came to the back door tonight, it would be a sign from on high. If someone else answered her knock, she would stay hidden in the shadows and know that tonight was not the night.