by Brant, Kylie
Teddy was looking increasingly confused. But he answered Ramsey’s question. “I can say with complete certainty there is no congregation affiliated with the Church of Elders in Buffalo Springs. I’d be surprised if one existed anywhere in the state. The other ten here are the Baptist, Flat Rock Christian, Christian Reformed, Presbyterian, Episcopals, First Christian, Christian Alliance, First Alliance, Sunrise Salvation, and Spring County Family Worship.”
“I’m not familiar with some of those denominations. Isn’t it possible that one of them evolved from Sancrosanctity?”
The reverend shook his head in response to Ramsey’s question. “I think you two are followin’ up on some faulty information. Granted, I’ve only been in town nine years, but I’m never heard that church name before.” His expression grew thoughtful. “I’m certain you’d find the name of Ashton’s church referenced somewhere in local history stored at the museum or library, though.”
“You’d think so,” Dev agreed. “But I couldn’t find it when I checked. I had Denny Pruett, a buddy of mine, look up these details and others for me. He’s supposed to be top-notch in his field. I trust his research.”
If he’d suggested he donned a cape and flew to the moon in his free time, Teddy couldn’t have looked more astounded. “Dennis Pruett? Of the NYU Theology Department?”
“That’s right.” And it tickled Dev no end to see the utter astonishment on Teddy’s face at the attested relationship. “He’s now dean of theology there.”
The reverend withdrew a handkerchief and wiped at his face, an act that could only be habitual since the temperatures were relatively balmy. “You’re friends with Dennis Pruett.” He repeated the words as if he were having trouble comprehending them. “He’s a leading scholar of theology in this country. How did you two ever . . .” He stopped himself just in time, Dev reckoned, to avoid saying something offensive.
“I did him a favor once.” And since he didn’t want Teddy to keel over in shock right on the church sidewalk, he’d spare him the details.
The pastor’s expression was still dazed. “Well.” He folded up the handkerchief meticulously and replaced it in his pocket. “I’m ’fraid my thoughts are goin’ ever’ which way. But if you say you got this information from Dennis Pruett, I can’t disbelieve it. I’d be interested in lookin’ it over sometime, if you have a mind to share it.”
“Sure.” Dev was careful not to promise a timeline. In light of their recent conversation, it was doubtful the man could shed any new light on the material Denny had sent him.
Teddy’s gaze went past him then, and he gave a slight wince. “I’m sorry. Musta lost all track of time. Here comes my chess partner to continue our weekly game. I don’t want to chase you folks off, though. Maybe you’d like to stay and repeat this information to Reverend Biggers. He’s been in town far longer than I have.”
Dev glanced behind him, met Biggers’s baleful gaze as he approached. “Not likely.”
“We’d really appreciate it if you’d keep this conversation to yourself,” Ramsey put in. “We’d like to talk to the other . . . ah . . . pastors in town and get their opinions.”
“Of course.” But Teddy looked disappointed. “Feel free to come back anytime.”
Biggers stomped by them, muttering audibly, “Godless sinner.”
“Bellicose old hellhound,” Dev offered pleasantly.
As Teddy’s eyes widened, his gaze swinging between the two of them, Biggers scowled fiercely in Dev’s direction before continuing up the walk leading to the home next to the church, which housed Teddy’s family.
Molitor coughed, lifting his fist to his lips, but Dev saw the smile he was trying to hide. “I’d best get on inside. It doesn’t pay to leave Jay alone with the chessboard too long.” Conspiratorially, he leaned forward, lowered his voice. “He cheats.”
Dev offered a bland smile. “I’m not surprised.”
In the car a few moments later, Ramsey worked her shoulders. “Men of the cloth always give me an itchy feeling between the shoulder blades.”
“I’d blame it on a guilty conscience if they didn’t make me feel exactly the same way. And, of course, my conscience is pure.” She smiled, as he’d meant her to. “Do you believe in an afterlife?”
Her expression went pensive. “I can’t say I’ve ever given much thought to heaven. But I hope there is a hell, if only because I’ve met so many people who belong there.”
Her words sobered him. Times like these, when he gave real thought to what she saw every day on the job, he wondered how she could bear it. And understood, just a little better, what drove her.
His granddaddy, as wise about human nature as anyone Dev had ever met, was fond of saying “we all look out our own window.” Dev was pretty certain the view out Ramsey’s window could be pretty grim.
He cleared his throat and switched the subject. “I have a hard time believin’ records from a church are destroyed once the church ceases to exist. Towns this size put a lot of store by their foundin’ fathers and the town history. But I sure never found any direct reference to Ashton’s church in the record books I went through at the museum or the library.” He put the key in the ignition, checked the nonexistent traffic, and pulled away from the curb.
Ramsey looked at him. “And you’re sure you saw every record book?”
He thought of Shirley Pierson and the lack of welcome she’d afforded him at the museum. “I can’t be positive of that, no.”
“Might be worth making another pass at them,” she mused. “But I’m not as convinced as Molitor that Ashton’s church ceased to exist. I’d like to spend a little time going around to talk to the other ministers in town.” She waited a beat. “It’d probably go smoother if you made the introductions. That is, if you have time.”
He felt a flicker of satisfaction. Ramsey’s intentions stated better than words that whatever she’d earlier said about the information he’d shared about Ashton having no bearing on the case, she was hooked now.
In the next moment, satisfaction was elbowed aside by discomfit. “I’ve got the time. I just don’t know how much use I’m gonna be to you.”
Immediate comprehension filled her expression. “The man who knows everybody doesn’t know the ministers? Why am I not surprised?”
He shifted uncomfortably. “I probably know ’em. I’m just sayin’ if you gave me a map of all the churches in town, I’m not so sure I can label each with its name and the pastor that goes with the church, if you catch my drift.” Her look of amusement had him feeling defensive. “Could you do the same if we were talkin’ ’bout your hometown?”
“Point taken.” Her voice was dry. “Okay. Let’s go back and get Molitor to make us a list. That would be quickest.”
Dev turned at the next corner and began to backtrack. “It might be best if you go to the door. I’d be lyin’ if I said there was love lost ’tween me and Reverend Biggers.”
“Really?” False wonder dripped from the word. “And here I thought his greeting was meant as a term of endearment. Sounded like there’s ancient history between you two.”
“Mostly. Some of it’s recent. He took exception to me bein’ in the graveyard the other night, regardless of the fact that I had permission to be there.” He gave a lift of his shoulder. “We have differin’ views on the sins of the fathers, you could say.”
The amusement abruptly faded from her expression. “I could rough him up while I’m in there if you want.”
For an offer surely made in jest, there was a note of promise in her words. And it warmed him that she’d take his part, even without the details of the bad blood between him and the reverend.
“Old goat would probably enjoy it,” he said lightly. He lifted a hand as they passed Margaret Ann Nierling watering her peonies. “I always sorta figured that the ones who are supposed to be beyond reproach are often the biggest sinners out there.”
“Yeah.” Her voice went bleak. “I’ve discovered the same thing.”
S
lowing at the corner of Nantucket, the street running along the west side of the church, he signaled, preparing to turn. Ramsey was facing the window, but her profile was rigid. Sometime, he vowed, she was going to explain to him exactly what had happened in her past that had formed the shield she’d erected around herself. But because it would be meaningless if she didn’t volunteer the information willingly, he resigned himself to waiting.
“Back up.”
Sending a quizzical look in her direction, he found her still staring out the window.
“Why?”
She reached out to grip his arm, still not looking at him. “Back up!”
Her urgent tone had him looking in his rearview mirror and slowing even more. There was a car following along behind him, making stopping impossible.
“Dev, I’m serious. I want to . . .”
“Hang on. We’ve got traffic laws even in a town this size.” He came to a complete halt, powered down his window and waved the vehicle behind him to go around.
When the road was clear, he backed up, coming to a halt before the side of the church. He’d barely slowed the car before Ramsey was tumbling out the door. “Where are you . . .” He threw the vehicle into park and got out to follow her, wondering when he’d ever seen this degree of excitement from her before.
“What do you suppose that is?”
He squinted in the direction she was pointing. Felt a pitch in his gut when he saw the images in the simple stained glass windows on either side of the door. On the right was an image of pinecones, a soft brown against the cloudy yellow glass. On the left . . . he cocked his head. “Is that a flower?”
“It’s some sort of plant.” Adrenaline fairly shimmered off her. “And this was originally the front of the church. That’s what you guys were saying earlier. Before they decided Main Street should run the other way. Molitor said these windows were original, right? Each but the front one.”
“That’s what he said.” Regardless of what he was and wasn’t supposed to know about the case, Ramsey was working, they’d spent nearly a full day visiting local healers, and she’d offered a small fortune for samples from Raelynn Urdall. It was clear that a plant of some sort figured largely in Ramsey’s investigation.
“See what Molitor can tell you about the windows. I’ll take some pictures of them.” He had all his equipment still in the trunk from the unproductive time he’d spent at the old Kuemper place earlier in the day.
But he was speaking to Ramsey’s back. She was already heading for the minister’s home.
“I would havefigured people in a small town would take more interest in the local history.” Frustrated, Ramsey ducked into Dev’s car and slammed the door after her.
He started the engine. “No luck?”
“Well, Molitor knew the one window had pinecones, of course. But he seemed to think the plant was a generic symbol of new life. Rebirth.” Which, when she thought about it, could take on new meaning to a twisted mind raping and killing women and dumping them in whatever body of water was handy.
She applied a mental brake to her thinking. There was no solid connection yet between the Frost killing and the one near DC. But if Detective Hopwood’s evidence was still intact, she might get a link through the hair he’d found entwined in the rope.
A sudden thought occurred to her. “Water.”
“You’re thirsty?”
She shook her head. “In a church, I mean. Water has symbolism, too, right? Baptism. Cleansing sin, or whatnot.”
“Most churches have some sort of baptism.” He sounded reflective. “I guess cleansin’ is as good a term as any. Was Molitor able to put together that list for you?”
“He was, although he seemed a bit distracted by the hellhound playing chess with him.”
“Actually has a proper name. Reverend Jay Biggers of the Southern Baptist Church here in town.”
“Didn’t seem particularly ministerly.” What he’d seemed, from her observations, was the cheat Molitor had called him. While the younger man was rummaging in his desk drawer for a pen and paper to write Ramsey’s list, Biggers had been surreptitiously moving his queen. She’d aimed the same look at him that she regularly used on recalcitrant suspects until he’d returned the queen to its earlier position.
“Anyway, if you took pictures of the windows, I’d rather go back to the motel. I’d like to print them out and get them over to my guy in the lab.”
“I got some pictures. Camera’s in the backseat.” He took the next left and headed toward the motel. “You want to use it, though, it’s gonna cost you.”
“I’m already buying you wine. What more do you want?” She twisted in her seat and tried to get the camera. When she couldn’t reach it, she unsnapped her seat belt and shifted position, half diving in the backseat to make another attempt at it.
“Well, that’s a start, I s’pose.”
When she felt his palm on her butt, she slapped it away. Snagging the camera, she returned to her seat, shooting him a narrowed look. “That’s a good way to lose a hand.”
“Honey, it just might be worth it.”
The lazy good humor in his words had her smiling in spite of herself. The smile abruptly faded when memory intruded. “I can’t believe I forgot to tell you.” Guilt stabbed through her. “I went to see ex-chief of police Kenner this morning.”
If she hadn’t been watching so closely she might not have noticed the slight tensing of his body, as if readying for a blow. “What’d he have to say?”
“He didn’t want to say much. He seems discreet enough. But he indicated the mystery of your father’s drinking prior to the murder might be solved by a conversation with your mother. Sounded like he kept details from the report that he didn’t feel were pertinent to the night in question in an effort to avoid some sort of embarrassment.”
The muscle in his jaw clenched once. “Well, we’re a polite folk down here.”
Remorse sprouted fangs, sank deep. “I’m really sorry I didn’t tell you earlier.”
He turned into the parking lot of the motel and pulled up to the cabin housing the temporary TBI office. “Don’t be. It’s goin’ to take some time to decide how badly I want to know those details.” His smile was humorless. “You’re not the only one with reason to avoid contact with family.”
Because it was locked, Ramsey banged on the door to the lab. Jonesy answered and blocked her entrance. “Uh-uh, you don’t come in unless you’re sterile.”
She looked down at herself. “I haven’t exactly been rolling in the dirt today.” Although if it hadn’t been for the quilt Dev had snatched from the bed, she would have been close during their picnic. “And don’t I always gown up when I come inside?”
But he was adamant. “I’m running tests; there’s no reason for you to come in. I don’t have anything for you yet. I’m about three quarters done with the comparisons on those plants and no matches yet.”
She handed him the batch of photos she’d downloaded from Dev’s cameras. “Do any of them look like this?”
He flipped through the pages. Today he was back in jeans and a T-shirt beneath the scrubs. She absolutely didn’t want to consider whether he seemed more relaxed or not.
“I never realized how much plant parts can look alike,” he muttered. “But yeah, there are a couple that seem similar. You want me to try them next?”
“I’ll wait while you do.”
When he looked up from the photos to glower at her, she gave him a grim smile. “The only way you’re keeping me out of the lab is if you think you can throw me out. Feeling lucky today?”
Apparently he wasn’t. Although that didn’t stop him from throwing her filthy looks after she donned sterile clothing and made herself comfortable on a chair in the corner.
An hour later she was convinced he was being purposefully slow. Meticulous was one thing, but surely it shouldn’t take that long to cut off the roots from the plants, wash them, and slice a part from each to jam under the microscope.
Involuntarily, her thoughts turned to Dev’s response to her conversation with Kenner. He was a grown man. It was ridiculous to worry about him. But there had been something in his eyes that told her he expected the upcoming conversation with his mother to be more unpleasant than illuminating. And she could sympathize with his reluctance to tackle it.
What was shocking was the strength of her desire to spare him that. She, who would never thank anyone for attempting to protect her from unpleasantness. Ramsey was reminded then of what Leanne had had to say about Dev’s parents a couple days ago.
From all accounts, Lucas Rollins was a lot like Dev. Easy to get along with and not much for gettin’ liquored up and carousin’. Which seems sorta ironic. Woman like that would drive most men to drink.