by Rita Herron
Even though it was well past 3:00 a.m., there were lights burning in several houses. Grady could feel the tension rippling through the community.
Undoubtedly word had spread that Kerry’s body had been found.
Occasionally he noticed a curtain part slightly, as if the owner had to peek out to make sure a madman wasn’t stalking outside. Thankfully, the town didn’t know yet that the police suspected Kerry’s death was the result of a serial killer, a man Special Agent Norton and his task force were now calling the Bone Whistler.
But Grady had other problems. First, what to do about Violet and her so-called visions. He still hadn’t informed Norton of the oddity.
And now two murders had occurred in Crow’s Landing within the span of a few days.
Were they connected or not?
Exhausted but too wired to sleep, Grady scanned the streets, searching for potential trouble. He checked the Redbud Café to make sure the Barley boys hadn’t gone mad and organized some kind of lynch mob, then breathed a sigh of relief to find that things were quiet.
Special Agent Norton parked behind him. With trepidation, he led the agent up the back stairs to the Longhorse apartment above the café. He hated like the devil to wake Laney at this ungodly hour, but Norton insisted on questioning Joseph tonight.
As a cop, Grady knew the agent was right. As a local, he despised what their suspicions would do to poor Laney. And what if Joseph turned out to be guilty?
Norton raised his fist and knocked. They waited several seconds, then footsteps sounded. A minute later, Laney checked the peephole and opened the door.
“Sheriff?” She ran a hand over her long braid. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m sorry to disturb you this late, Laney.” Special Agent Norton cleared his throat and Grady introduced him. Laney’s expression immediately turned wary.
“I guess you heard about Kerry,” Grady said.
She nodded, tears glistening in her gray eyes. “It’s awful. Poor thing…she was such a sweetheart. I can’t believe she’s dead.”
He nodded. “We have to talk to Joseph.”
“You don’t think my boy had something to do with Kerry’s death?” Her eyes widened. “Grady, you’ve known Joseph all your life. You can’t possibly think such a thing.”
“Ma’am, we just need to talk to him,” Norton said.
She twisted the neckline of her robe. “I…he’s not home.”
Grady frowned. “Laney, we’re not here to arrest him, we just want to ask him some questions.”
“Go get him, ma’am.”
Laney pursed her lips. “I told you he’s not here. That’s the truth.” She gestured toward the door, opening it wider. “If you don’t believe me, check for yourself.”
Grady started to back away, but Norton pushed inside. “I certainly will.”
Grady and Laney exchanged a troubled look, then Grady followed Norton as he strode through the five-room apartment. The agent was looking for evidence, anything in the open that might link Longhorse to the murders. Norton froze when he noticed the bone collection on the wall.
“Does that belong to your son?” he asked.
Laney nodded, still clutching the neckline of her robe. “They’re from different animals he hunts. He uses some of them in our traditional rituals.”
Norton glanced at Grady, then back to Laney. “Where is your son, ma’am?”
“He was upset after that fight,” Laney said. “When he gets that way, he goes off into the woods to be alone, sometimes to meditate, sometimes to hunt. But he always returns by dawn.”
Norton nodded. “Then we’ll be back then.”
Grady followed him out the door. As soon as it closed, Norton said, “Let’s get a search warrant. I want it in my hands when we return at dawn.”
Grady remembered the sliver of bone his father had found in Darlene’s hand. Was it possible Joseph Longhorse had put it there just before he’d killed her?
* * *
ROSS WHEELER KNELT at the altar, offering silent prayers that his father accepted his mere offerings and forgave him his sins.
His own earthly father would not be so forgiving.
Not if he discovered what Ross had done after the prayer meeting the night before, when Reverend Bilkins had spoken.
Especially if he discovered his visit to Kerry Cantrell.
His eye twitched, but he struggled to control it as a hard, firm hand pressed down on his shoulder. His father. Had they not been in church, the good reverend would have lashed out with more force. The scars beneath Ross’s thin shirt burned from his shame—evidence of his father’s previous punishments.
“Where were you earlier, Son?”
Ross pasted a sugary, kiss-ass smile on his face. He’d learned to play his father’s game well. At least most of the time.
Unless his father could smell the evidence of his sins still on him.
He’d scrubbed and tried his best to wash it away, but those closest to the Lord sometimes knew things that others didn’t. And the scent had seeped beneath his fingernails…. “I heard Reverend Bilkins speak, Father. I was most moved by his words.”
His father nodded. “I didn’t see you in the front row.”
“I stood among the crowd, hoping to be moved by the spirit in the spectators. There was an energy there tonight, Father, an energy that lifted the crowd to new heights.”
“An energy you do not feel when I speak?”
Ross winced. His father didn’t like playing second fiddle to anyone, even a famous televangelist like Brother Billy Lee Bilkins. Ross rose, brushed the seams of his slacks so they hung perfectly, then smiled at the reverend. “No one moves me as you do, Father. I simply meant to compliment your taste in choosing Brother Billy Lee to join you at the pulpit for this revival.”
His father’s eyes narrowed, flaring with suspicion as he studied his son’s eyes. “You heard the Cantrell woman is dead?”
“Yes, Father,” Ross said quietly. “They found her body up at Black Mountain Church.”
“We must pray for this town, Son,” his father said, pushing him to his knees again. “Pray to extinguish the evil forces that live among us.”
Ross nodded obediently and closed his eyes. But in his prayers, his mind wandered. He saw Kerry as he had last seen her.
No one must ever know he had been there….
* * *
GRADY COULD BARELY stand to think about what the killer had done to Kerry before he’d finally strangled her. What he might do to another….
Violet.
While Agent Norton arranged for a search warrant for Longhorse’s place, Grady drove by her house. He hated to disturb her if she was sleeping, but when he’d left, she’d been so worried about Kerry that he doubted she’d be able to rest. She was probably up waiting, wondering….
Besides, he had to verify that she was safe himself, that the killer hadn’t come after her.
Tomorrow he’d get that tracer put on her phone. They’d catch this maniac before he hurt Violet.
Although it was nearly 4:00 a.m., her porch light was still burning. Grady scrubbed a hand over his bleary eyes as he parked and walked up her drive. He knocked softly, then called her name.
“Violet, it’s me, Grady.”
Seconds later, the door squeaked open. Violet looked pale and worried, the harsh light of the porch accentuating the dark circles under her eyes. She needed sleep. Rest.
Comfort.
He didn’t know how he knew that but he did.
Or maybe he needed to be comforted. Hell. It didn’t matter.
Unable to stop himself, he stepped inside and pulled her into his arms. He was too damn tired to remember all the reasons he shouldn’t. She felt fragile and small and so damn sweet and tender he was afraid he might crush her. But he clung to her for a second, anyway, dropping his head forward into the crook of her shoulder, breathing in her scent.
“You’re okay?”
She nodded against him, her hands te
ntatively reaching up to grip his back. “You found her?”
He nodded. “I’m afraid so.”
She let that sink in for a moment. “She was on display just like the others?”
“Yes,” he said gruffly.
Violet rested her head against his chest and released a weary sigh. “It’s not going to stop, Grady.”
He squeezed his eyes shut, knowing she was right. Then realization dawned. He raised his head. Searched her face. “You saw something else?”
“He’s putting the victims’ names on the vials of blood.”
His breath locked in his throat. “Do you know who the next victim is?”
“No, but there are seven more. His finger covered up the names. All except one.”
He frowned, his eyes narrowing. “Whose name did you see?”
She hesitated. Bit her lip. Tried to turn away.
“Violet?” He slid a thumb to her chin and tipped her jaw up so she had to look at him. “Whose name was it?”
She picked up the sketch pad and showed it to him. “Mine.”
Violet gave a start as Grady released her. He paced across the room like a wild animal, shouting expletives. “Son of a bitch. We have to stop this goddamn maniac….”
“I tried to see more,” Violet said. “But it’s almost like he knows I’m watching, as if he’s taunting me.”
Grady halted, looked up at her. His expression was skeptical, then almost believing.
“Did you see anything else?”
“He raised the test tubes and studied the blood.” She shivered. “He gets off just looking at it. He wants it to be perfect, but it’s not. If only I knew what he meant by that.”
Horror darkened her face, and Grady went to her again, then pulled her onto the sofa. He slid an arm around her, cradled her against him. “I told you my dad had found a piece of bone in Darlene’s hand.”
She squeezed his fingers, ached for his warmth. She had been cold and alone so long. “I don’t understand how this is all connected, but it has to be.”
“Unless someone knows who killed Darlene and is toying with us, making it look like the murders are connected.”
“They are connected,” Violet said with conviction.
“The town is going to be in a panic over this,” Grady said. “The FBI was already here. I’m meeting one of the special agents in half an hour to question Joseph Longhorse.”
Violet shifted, her eyes questioning. “You don’t believe Joseph did this?”
Grady shrugged. “I don’t know what to think yet. We went by his house, and he wasn’t home. Laney said he was out in the woods alone. And he was pissed when Kerry turned down his advances.”
“He used to comb the woods when he was a kid.” Violet twisted her fingers together. “But that doesn’t make him a murderer.”
Grady stiffened. He should have guessed Violet would defend Longhorse. “He’s a known hunter, Violet. He goes into the woods for days at a time and performs some of those barbaric rituals. And he has a collection of animal bones on his wall.”
A shudder gripped Violet. The sound of the bone whistle echoed in her mind. Joseph did have a dark side and a lot of anger. But he had been her friend. Or was he just pretending?
She’d always felt drawn to him. She was drawn to this killer, too….
Could Joseph be the murderer they were looking for?
* * *
VIOLET WAS SO SHAKEN, Grady insisted she lie down for a while. She needed rest.
Today at noon she would bury her father.
He promised to see her at the funeral, then left to meet Special Agent Norton. The profiler accompanied Norton, quiet and thoughtful. Grady wondered if she could see into the killer’s mind.
Laney Longhorse was dressed in a native smock, waiting on them at the door. Joseph had not returned. Laney twisted her fingers together, looking more agitated than he’d ever seen her.
“We need to have those bones analyzed,” Norton told Adams.
Laney started to protest, but Grady calmed her. Apparently his job here was to play mediator.
Although so far forensics hadn’t found any DNA of the killer on the victims, Agent Adams began to collect the bones while Norton searched Longhorse’s bedroom and retrieved a few items of clothing and hair to compare for DNA. He also confiscated two hunting knives, a book on Native American ritualistic ceremonies and some miscellaneous articles Laney explained were used for special potions.
“You cannot take all that, can you?” Laney asked.
“The warrant mentions anything that seems suspicious,” Agent Norton said.
Laney’s chin snapped up. “My boy did not kill anyone. He is a good man.”
“But our people are the first ones they run to for questioning, am I not right, Mama?”
Grady glanced up to see Joseph standing at the screened door, a bow and arrow slung over his shoulder, his face smudged, his jeans and bare chest dirty and sweaty.
“Where have you been, Longhorse?” Grady asked.
His dark eyes were devoid of emotion. “Following the ways of my forefathers.” Special Agent Norton stepped from the shadows of Longhorse’s room. “As in performing the sun dance?”
Longhorse shrugged. “I believe in the ancient customs, as does my etsi.”
“How about the law?” A menacing expression tightened Norton’s face. “Do you believe in that?”
“The law of the universe,” Longhorse said. “To follow the sun, the earth, the wind and fire.” He dropped his bow and arrow onto the floor. “Now, what is this about?”
“Kerry Cantrell,” Special Agent Norton said.
Longhorse turned and glared at Grady.
Norton seemed to detect the tension. “Did you see Kerry last night?”
“No.”
Laney shook her head sadly. “There was a search party, Son. Kerry is…they found her. She’s dead.”
A momentary flicker of Longhorse’s eyebrows reflected surprise. Sorrow. Or maybe he was faking it. Maybe the look was regret for getting caught.
“Did anyone see you overnight?” Norton asked.
Longhorse squared his shoulders, met Norton’s steady, scrutinizing gaze with a flat look. “No one but the creatures of nature.”
“Then you have no alibi?”
“I did not know I was going to need one.”
They spent the next few minutes with Longhorse talking in circles. The federal agent’s patience waned quickly. And poor Laney looked fit to be tied.
Grady was straddling the fence, uncertain what to believe about Joseph Longhorse.
Agent Adams reentered the room. “I think we’ve covered things for now.”
Longhorse raked his eyes over her. An interested look crossed his face—the look of a man attracted to a woman.
Grady had seen him stare at Violet the same way. A primitive male look.
He hadn’t liked it then, and he didn’t like it now. And this time it wasn’t because he wanted Agent Adams for himself.
He jerked upright, shocked at his own thoughts.
Then again, Grady was a man. Even though he’d first slated Violet as off-limits, there was something about her that was getting under his skin.
Longhorse’s attitude was getting to Grady, too. He’d never understood the native’s animosity toward him. Perhaps Longhorse’s anger against the world was beginning to reveal itself in other ways.
Some very sick, sadistic ones…
After all, he was a hunter. Had Darlene been his first taste of human blood? If so, why had he waited so long to taste it again?
CHAPTER NINETEEN
VIOLET HAD COME TO tell her father goodbye. But what could she say to a man she had barely known?
A cold clamminess covered her skin as she stood beside his casket. She felt his hand in hers as he had walked her to the bus stop her first day of school. Saw the Big Bird lunch box he’d bought for her peanut butter and jelly sandwich. The chocolate chip cookie. The old bike he’d taught her to ri
de. The day he’d caught her when she’d fallen from the tire swing.
But then he was shoving her in the station wagon. Telling her grandmother to take her away.
Maybe he’d loved her once, before the evil had possessed her.
“I don’t understand why you never contacted me, Dad,” she whispered, “but at least I know you didn’t kill Darlene. Grady’s going to find out who did and who put you here.”
Reverend Wheeler approached with his son beside him, and Violet knotted her hands. Ross Wheeler’s presence added an edge to the already tense atmosphere. She slipped to the front row of the small chapel. Thankfully, Ross claimed the pew on the opposite side. With all that had happened in the past and now the news of this serial killer and Kerry Cantrell, she wasn’t surprised that the church was nearly empty. The anxiety in the town was thick. Residents were hiding inside their houses, locking doors that had never been locked before.
Her father’s lawyer drifted in, out of respect, she was certain. An elderly couple who lived down the street from her joined the small group, and the town busybody, Beula Simms, tottered in. Probably to gather gossip about Jed Baker’s lunatic daughter.
Laney Longhorse slid into the seat next to her and placed a wrinkled hand over Violet’s. Violet met her gaze, sensing the turmoil in the older woman’s eyes. She hated knowing Laney had suffered through the ordeal of watching her son being questioned for murder. But as always, Laney held her head high, her constant strength and courage an inspiration to Violet. Then Joseph padded up the aisle and joined them, his quiet presence both reassuring Violet of their childhood friendship, but unnerving in the intensity with which he now watched her.
Violet glanced at the pews behind her in search of Grady. She’d thought he would come, as he’d promised….
Then again, why would he? Their fathers hadn’t exactly been friends.
Footsteps sounded behind her, though, and she froze. Grady’s father strode into the church and took a seat, his hands clasped, his eyes boring holes into Violet. She supposed he wanted to make sure her father wouldn’t rise from the dead.
She darted her gaze away from him and clung to Laney’s hand.