“How much good can a couple of old people praying do, Gram? I want you to stay home. There is a murderer out there. In fact, I will go get BC and stay here tonight.”
Grandma Bricken's countenance softened. “KittyKat, I am fine.” She reached down and cupped Kat's chin in her hand, lifting her face up until their eyes met.
“I am so blessed to have you and your love in my life.” She released Kat's chin and stroked her cheek with the back of her rough, weathered hand. Kat grabbed it and looked into her beloved grandmother's eyes. This woman had raised her when her mom had run off with some angler from Oregon, and after her dad, a sailor, was killed in some far-off port by some far-off enemy.
“Please Grandma.” Kat had forgotten that Ken was in the room witnessing the tenderness he had never seen in the Ice Queen. He felt a tug on his heart. Something he had never felt before. A need to protect overtook the lust he had felt. Emotions were dangerous. He brought himself back to reality, filtering the conversation and actions of these two.
“If it makes you feel better, come and stay, Kat.” She couldn't say the same for that beast Kat kept with her. It was the nastiest thing Grandma Bricken had ever seen called a pet. But it loved Kat and so Grandma accepted it, spiteful disposition and all.
“And, of course, bring BC.”
“I don't want you out after dark, Grandma!” Kat was insistent.
“Well, as you know, there is more dark than light this time of year. And, it is more important than anything else for me to get to church tonight.”
Kat began twisting and untwisting her paper napkin, just like she had done as a child when she was troubled.
“I'll tell you what, Kat, you and Agent Melbourne come with me; then you can see that I'm okay until I get home.”
Kat didn't like this idea at all. She did not want to go to church and she didn't want to go with Agent Melbourne.
“All or nothing, Kat. It might not be safe for just the two of us, either. I would feel better knowing that we had such a strong escort.” Grandma smiled. “And I do believe he must carry a gun, is that right, Agent?”
For some reason Ken, who was had never been a churchgoer, was beginning to like the idea of escorting these two ladies, especially the younger one.
“Certainly do, ma'am.” He patted the belt under his coat and over his right hip.
Do not encourage her! Kat shot psychic darts at him from those mesmerizing eyes.
“Your grandmother needs to be escorted. You yourself said she should not be out alone after dark. I agree. And either we both go or she's going by herself. Did I get that right, Mrs. Bricken?”
“Indeed you did. Indeed you did.”
Kat knew she was fighting a losing battle.
“Fine. I'll call Bart and tell him I won't be back this afternoon. I'm going home to pack, grab BC and I'll be back here before you want to leave. What time is this service?”
“Six o'clock.”
“Don't look so pleased with yourself, Grandma. You either, FBI! I don't like this one bit.”
Kat pushed back from the table, picked up her purse and headed for the door.
“We'll be here by five forty-five. Do not leave without us. I mean that, Mrs. Bricken. Your granddaughter is right about the danger everyone in town is facing.”
“Call me Grandma, Agent Melbourne, everyone in town does.” She knew that this man was the one for Kat and would be a part of her family. She felt good about it this time. All those others her granddaughter had traipsed through her home were wrong for Kat. This one was strong and just as hardhead-ed but more levelheaded and had capacity for great love. The right combination for Kat, as soon as they both came to Christ. Without that blessing, nothing would come of the relationship. Grandma could see that—Kat and Ken could not.
Ken had never known either of his grandmothers because he was a late-in-life baby. This woman spoke to a hole in him that he didn't know was there. He cleared his throat.
“Grandma.” He felt ridiculous for the third time in this woman's home. He had an extreme urge to catch up with Kat and walk her somewhere, anywhere as long as he could talk to her.
“Go. She isn't but a foot out the door by now. She's still fuming, though, so be careful of that temper or you'll be left in the smoke of her tongue.” Grandma giggled like a schoolgirl. “Go.”
Ken rose and hurried for the door. He turned back. “Thank you.” He smiled a conspiratorial smile at her. He didn't know why, but he knew he had made a great ally in this aged, and he thought, wise and wonderful woman.
Grandma Bricken smiled. All was going to be okay for Kat. A burden she had long carried, Kat being orphaned and alone, lifted.
A vision of Kat's mutilated body, lying on Corpse Mound, flew into her line of vision. Terror and despair flooded her soul.
“You weren't there to keep her safe. You couldn't keep your promise, old woman.” An evil, malevolent laugh echoed through her mind.
“Not while I'm alive, you horrid being, not while I'm still breathing.” She prayed that Christ take her thoughts captive.
Prevaricator saw his lies doing their work. He could feel the old biddy's faith weakening under the doubt. He relished the red and black colors snaking from her being. Her terror tasted sweeter than any he could remember. That glimpse of her beloved granddaughter's fate had done the trick.
“The Lord Jesus Christ rebuke you. Be gone, evil one!”
The lies flew back at him, and Prevaricator somersaulted backward through the wall. Prevaricator hurtled into the presence of his ruler. He quaked when it dawned on Iconoclast that Prevaricator's mission had failed. Enraged, Iconoclast stomped on his thin, stringy neck. Prevaricator yowled. The yowl was decibels above the threshold of human hearing, but not above that of the birds. They shot into the air in search of safety.
Peace returned to Grandma Bricken. “Thank you, Lord, thank you.” She checked the stove and left the kitchen to prepare for the evening service.
Kenneth caught up with Kat just as she turned onto the street behind Grandma's house.
“May I walk you?”
“Not you, too, FBI? I can take care of myself, you know, she picked up her pace, an outward expression of her need to get away from the confusion he stirred up every time she looked at him.
He ignored her body language. Ken picked up his pace to come alongside her, which put him on a direct collision with a bike rider. The speed-demon had turned his bike to avoid Kat but didn't have time to do the same for Ken.
Ken, who had been concentrating on matching his pace to Kat's, was unaware of the impending accident. The whir of the spokes alerted him. He glanced up, shot sideways, tripped over a small rock and landed on his backside. The bike rider whizzed by and was a speck on the horizon in moments.
Kat laughed so hard, tears came to her eyes. Once she could get her breath, she offered a hand.
He took it, but instead of pulling himself up, he pulled her down. She landed square on his stomach.
“Oomph.” That did not work out quite how he had planned. But her reaction was exactly what he had hoped for. Those flashing green eyes were back.
She doubled a fist, smacked him square on the chest and stood up.
“Ouch.” He rubbed the spot to take some of the sting out of it.
“You're strong, for a girl.”
Kat gave a frustrated, “huff,” and took off.
He succeeded in regaining the wind knocked out of him by the fall, then the pounding and got up. Kat was halfway down the street when Ken caught up with her. She made it a point to ignore him for the twenty minutes it took to walk her home. The silence made it seem like an eternity passed before he got her to her destination.
Once they arrived, Ken insisted he check the house before she go inside.
“Oh, for heaven's sake.” Kat patted her pockets to find her key. She wanted to placate this guy and get some time by herself.
While he waited, Ken stood on the deck, back turned to Kat's door taking in a
view more amazing than he had ever seen. The muddy, grey inlet tossed whitecaps toward shore at an alarming rate. The breeze was gentle here, but out there, it was gale force. He could hear the calling of ravens in the distance. Across the inlet stood mountains and, he was sure an active volcano, sending puffs of steam upward. The knowledge of an explosion that was imminent gave him a thrill.
Ken lived for danger and Ravens Cove had a different danger than he had ever known or thought about growing up in Iowa. Kat was the most dangerous woman he had ever met. His feelings were growing stronger for this enigma of Ravens Cove, and the raw beauty of this place. The possibility of earthquakes, volcanoes erupting, not to mention the moose and bear that were numerous, and could trample or devour one, really became clear to Ken. This place felt more like home than anywhere he had been on earth.
A sharp pain brought him back to reality. Kenneth looked to the source of his pain. A black, short-haired cat, as green-eyed as its master, had climbed partway up his legs, claws out as if it was scaling a tree.
“What the ….!” Kenneth shook his leg back and forth in rapid motion in an effort to detach the source of his pain. BC held on tighter, seeming to be enjoying this new ride, and he dug in deeper.
“Oh crap!” He was going to have to shoot this thing.
Kat was puzzled. BC had never been quite so violent in an introduction.
“Stop moving.” Kat bent down and unhooked each claw. Ken counted sixteen tugs before he was finally free.
BC's tail swished back and forth and he glared into Kenneth's eyes, a low growl warning Ken that, if BC had anything to do with it, the attack was not over.
“Told you I was fine. She picked up BC and dropped him inside her cabin and slammed the door. “You'd better go now. That was one of BC's more delicate warnings.”
Ken turned to leave. He looked back over his right shoulder, “I'll be here to get you at five fifteen.”
He's either courageous or a fool. No man had stayed on her porch or crossed her threshold, for that matter, since BC had taken up residence.
“If you aren't here by five fifteen, I won't be here at five sixteen.” She turned, walked inside and closed the door in his face.
Kenneth was there at five ten, allowing for differences in clocks. He knocked and sidestepped the second BC attack. He grabbed the cat in one arm, pulling just hard enough on the nape of his neck, like a mother cat carries its kitten, to stop the biting and clawing in its tracks. Subdued, BC lay still, except for the swishing tail.
“Enough of that, cat. Now off with you.” Kenneth dropped BC ahead of him into the cabin to give himself a head start if the cat decided to come at him again.
Kat favored Kenneth with a look that bordered on respect. No one knew how to subdue that cat but her. She stepped out the door, closed and locked it.
“Darn.” She unlocked the door, grabbed the overnight bag and swept BC into a kennel before he could protest. Balancing the bag and BC, Kat squeezed through the door and kicked it shut.
“Kat.” Sheriff Bart's voice came from the gravel path that doubled for a driveway.
Kat and Kenneth turned to watch his stocky frame come up the hill to her lawn.
“Where're you off to?” His eyes settled in challenge on Ken's face. Ken returned the challenge.
“We're going to get Grandma and take her to that church.”
Bart turned surprised eyes to Kat “Since when do you go to church, especially that holy rollin’ one?”
“Since Grandma wouldn't take no for an answer and was going to go by herself after dark. No choice.”
“Stubborn. We do come by it rightly, now don't we?” He smiled when he reflected on his great-aunt's obstinance.
“We?”
“Well, not that this is any of your business, either, FBI, but we are also related. This man is not just our town's fine sheriff. He is also my first cousin.”
Relief and understanding flooded Ken. He had mistaken family protectiveness for male competition.
“I'll walk with you. We got the autopsy results and some information on the John Doe from yesterday.”
“Listening.” Ken lost interest in the family relationship and turned his full attention to Bart.
“Seems this is a homeless man, resides in and around Anchorage. Has a record for panhandling, petty theft, nothing big. Don't know what brought him this way but I'm assuming he was looking for a warmer climate to spend the winter.
“The autopsy results were a little odd. The black stuff coming from his eyes was sulfurous in nature; the purple is some kind of plant or herb not known to Ravens Cove or even Alaska from what they said. He could have died from a variety of things, most of which seemed to occur at the same time. Among them, he had a heart attack and a broken rib that punctured the lung, both fatal. But the medical examiner could not explain the absence of skin or blood from the body. They are still looking for an explanation. No immediate signs of burning or bloodletting; they are thinking acid was used to remove the skin. They'll get back to us.”
They had arrived at Grandma Bricken's.
“You look beautiful!” Bart sounded like a young boy talking to his first crush.
Grandma Bricken beamed. She looked at the three young people standing on her porch.
“My escort has increased, I see.”
Kat deposited BC and her bag in the entry. With the knowledge of a frequent visitor, she grabbed a white ceramic bowl from the upper cabinet in the kitchen, filled it with water and set it on the floor.
“There, BC, you're set ‘til we get back.”
Grandma Bricken's warm eyes followed Kat throughout the routine. Her granddaughter's depth of love extended well beyond family to all she felt needed her. An admirable trait, although one that had gotten Kat hurt on more than one occasion.
“Well let's be off then.”
They arrived at the small house-turned-church at dusk. It was a little before six.
Floor lamps and some yellow-tinted bulbs in the ceiling fixtures gave the place a warm glow. The small room smelled of fresh paint.
Grandma joined her long-time friends at the front of the church. There were new faces, too. At least ones Kat had not seen at her gram's many home Bible studies. If there were twenty people, though, she'd be surprised. Still, the peace and lightness in this building made up for the sparse gathering. A feeling of security, of protection, overtook her senses. She hadn't experienced those feelings since her dad passed.
Paul Lucas stood on the low, hand-built stage and smiled out to his flock. He took hold of the small wooden box in front of him.
“As you know, my friends, our town is under attack. Two people have lost their lives in just as many days. It is urgent we pray for our town and the safety of its residents. The Lord has told us that where two or more gather in His name, He will be among them. And He has promised to answer our cries. Let us cry out to Him. He is our salvation.”
A different type of meeting was taking place at the Congregational Alliance. A memorial service and a pep talk by Reverend Plotno. Reverend Plotno knew it was time to confront and disassemble the congregation of Paul Lucas. He could not do it himself, but he was sure that some of his people would indeed want to. All he had to do was push them in the right direction. Earlier, he had insisted that Anita go to Lucas’ church and do some snooping. She was peeved; but like a good servant, went on her way.
He was surprised that he missed his most adoring fan. He wanted to see her love-struck eyes while he delivered his fiery and enlightening speech. He comforted himself knowing he would catch up with her in private, later.
“My friends, we have lost a dear brother. This, as you all know, is the second loss in two days. There is one they say that is jailed and suspected of these horrific crimes. And do you know where he was before he went to jail? Visiting Paul Lucas!”
There was a gasp throughout the congregation. Guilt by association was an underlying tone in this church.
“We have known, and I've told
you for a long time, that that assembly is bad for Ravens Cove! We must do something to shut it down! Any of you could be next!”
That primed them. “I am praying, and ask that you pray for the destruction of that church so that no more harm will come to this town! We are in peril, I feel it.” He paused so his next statement would have its desired effect.
“My guide has told me this!” The rumble of belief affirmed that his ploy had worked.
Atramentous was standing behind Plotno, whispering into his puppet's ear. He had left his position at the door, knowing this was where he needed to be right now, no matter what Iconoclast said.
Because he left his post, he did not notice someone slip into a pew in the back, late to this service, which was taboo at the Congregational Alliance. The angel left and flew to the man who occupied the town's lone jail cell to warn him.
Sheriff Bart left the service at Paul Lucas’ church. He was puzzled at the hatred felt for this man by most all of the town, at least those who attended the Congregational Alliance. He seemed harmless enough. He shook his head. He'd never understand people.
He arrived at the office to check on his prisoner. Josiah sat on the edge of his bed, head bent, and deep in thought.
“Here's the Bible you requested.” He handed it through the bars.
“Thanks much.” Josiah gave an appreciative smile.
The sheriff made sure Josiah had water and blankets for the long night ahead, and headed out the door and onto the street. A large black lump caught his attention.
“Who the heck left their trash in the street? Some in this town can't seem to get with the program. I'll have to issue another warning in the morning.” He shook his head, walked toward the trash to pick it up and throw it in one of the cans behind the building. But it wasn't trash. It was a flock of ravens, dead in a heap, right outside the Trash Bin. He leaned over and touched one. Still warm.
“Who would do such a thing?” It had to be the murderer. But if his prime suspect was in jail, that theory didn't hold water. He went back to the office for trash bags, cleaned up the mess and, an hour after he planned to, started for home.
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