Silent Killer

by Beverly Barton

  She shook her head.

  “You really are running away, aren’t you?”

  “Temporarily.”

  “Want to talk about it?” he asked.

  “No, not really. I’d rather not think about what happened today or a year ago or eighteen months ago. I’d like to forget about all of it, just for a little while.”

  “I’ll see what I can do to give you what you want.”

  John Earl took his wife’s hands and held them in his. He wasn’t looking forward to telling her the news that was spreading around town like a deadly wildfire. But she had to be told. The local authorities believed there was a serial killer targeting clergymen. If the man found dead in the park today was indeed Father Brian Myers, he would be the killer’s third victim.

  “What is it?” Ruth Ann asked. “I can tell by your expression that this isn’t going to be good news.”

  He loved Ruth Ann for so many reasons, not the least of which was her strength and resilience. As a team, they had weathered many of life’s storms together. His wife was indeed his helpmate. He could not imagine his life without her, and he knew she felt the same about him. They were friends, life partners and lovers.

  “There was a man’s body found this morning in Spring Creek Park,” John Earl said. “The police believe it was murder.”

  “Oh, how terrible. It wasn’t someone we know, was it?”

  He shook his head. “No.”

  She studied him intently. “There’s more to it than just a body being found, isn’t there?”

  Tightening his hold on her hands, he nodded. “The victim has not been identified yet, but they believe he was a Catholic priest from Huntsville.”

  Ruth Ann drew in a startled breath.

  “The man burned to death. They think he was set on fire.”

  Emotion swelled in her chest and rose to lodge in her throat.

  “There is a good chance that someone out there is targeting clergymen,” John Earl said.

  She swallowed hard. “First Mark Cantrell and then that minister from Athens and now…”

  “I don’t want you to worry about me. I know that after Mark was killed, you were concerned, and when the second clergyman was killed, your fears only increased. I know how both deaths brought back some painful memories for you and your mother.”

  “I think maybe we should consider moving out of state.” Ruth Ann pulled away from him. “Perhaps it’s time for you to do some mission work. We could leave the girls here with Mother, and you and I could spend six months or a year—”

  “We can’t just pull up stakes and leave,” he reminded her. “I would have to apply for any type of transfer, and it could take months or longer for me to be reassigned. Besides that, both Charity and Felicity are at an age when they need our guidance more than ever before. And your mother isn’t in good health. She could never cope with two teenagers.”

  Ruth Ann wrung her hands together. “I know. I know. It’s just…” She slipped into John Earl’s open arms. “I couldn’t bear to lose you.”

  He clasped her chin and lifted her face to his. Then he kissed her forehead. “You’re not going to lose me.”

  When she looked into his eyes so pleadingly, he lowered his head and took her mouth with a hunger that bound him to her as surely as their marriage vows did. She clung to him with a desperation that he felt all the way to his bones. He understood. Not only was she battling her fears for him, but the memories of a long-ago night when her parents’ house had burned to the ground. The night her father had died, consumed by the blaze that the fire marshal had later ruled arson.

  “You need to tell your mother,” John Earl said as he eased out of her tenacious hold. “While you’re doing that, I’ll speak to the girls and do my best to allay any fears they might have.”

  Their gazes locked, each aware of what the other was thinking. In a marriage such as theirs, when the love and commitment were both strong, words were often unnecessary.

  John Earl watched his wife as she walked out of his study, a room she had personally decorated for him. He was a very lucky man to have such a devoted wife. Years ago, in the early days of their marriage, he had been uncertain of her love, but never of her devotion. As the years went by, he had come to trust the love she professed for him and now knew beyond any doubt that she was as much in love with him as he was with her.

  “Help me, dear Lord, to say whatever my daughters need to hear. I’ve done all within my power to protect them from the ugliness of this world. I need Your continued guidance to lead them along the path of righteousness.”

  “Daddy?” Charity called from the open doorway.

  He forced a confident, all-is-well smile and motioned to her, inviting her to enter. She came toward him, her younger sister directly behind her. His daughters were quite different in appearance and personality. Although Charity was as pretty as her mother, with her dark hair and eyes, she shied away from makeup and fashionable clothes. She possessed Ruth Ann’s gentle nature and was their studious, conscientious child, the one who strived so hard to please. On the other hand, Felicity had his fairer coloring, his gray eyes and wide mouth, and although not quite as pretty as her older sister, she was far more flamboyant. She kept her hair dyed that hideous black, wore violet contacts and bore the most vulgar tattoos that he had reluctantly agreed for her to get, as proudly as if they were badges of honor. She was his little rebel.

  John Earl indicated the overstuffed settee. “Sit down, please. I need to talk to both of you.”

  “Whatever it is, I didn’t do it,” Felicity said.

  His lips curved in a genuine smile. How many times had his parents heard him, as a teenager, say those very same words of denial? Considering what a hellion he had been in his youth, he had every reason to believe there was hope for Felicity.

  Ruth Ann knocked on her mother’s closed bedroom door.

  “Yes?”

  “May I come in?” Ruth Ann asked.

  “Yes, of course.”

  When she opened the door, she found her mother sitting on the window seat gazing down at the backyard below. Faye Long was two years shy of her sixtieth birthday, yet she looked much older, as if life had worn her out prematurely. As a child, Ruth Ann had thought her mother was the most beautiful woman in the world, with her willowy figure, her long, lustrous dark hair and her large, expressive brown eyes. Her hair had turned salt and pepper, and her brown eyes were now void of emotion. Dead eyes.

  Faye turned halfway around on the window seat and looked up at Ruth Ann. “Are we having dinner early this evening?”

  “No, Mother, dinner will be at six-thirty, as usual.”

  She wished she could go to her mother, sit at her feet and be wrapped in her arms. But Faye was not capable of giving her the maternal comfort she craved. The last time her mother had touched her had been the night she had dragged her from their burning home. The night her father, Reverend Charles Long, had burned to death.

  “John Earl is talking to the girls. We thought it best that he speak to them while I told you about what has happened.”

  “My goodness. What on earth is wrong?” Faye rose to her feet.

  “Another clergyman was found dead this morning. The authorities believe he was a Catholic priest from Huntsville and that he was deliberately set on fire.”

  “Merciful Lord!”

  “If there is someone out there killing clergymen in North Alabama, then not one man of God is safe. John Earl could be in danger.” She took several tentative steps toward Faye. “I can’t endure the thought that my husband might become a victim.”

  “Don’t you trust the Lord to take care of John Earl?”

  “It’s not a matter of trusting the Lord.” Ruth Ann paused in front of her mother and hovered over her, needing an answer to a question she was too afraid to ask. “Mother…please…”

  Her mother lifted her head and met Ruth Ann’s questioning gaze head-on, without flinching or even blinking. “I am very fond of John Ea
rl. He’s a good man, a good husband and a good father. I can’t imagine why anyone would want to harm such a man.”

  Ruth Ann sighed. “I agree. Thank you.”

  Faye folded her hands in her lap, turned back around and looked out the window again.

  “I’ll call you when dinner is ready.”

  When Ruth Ann stepped over the threshold into the hallway, her mother called her name and then said, “Do you really think I’m that much of a monster?”

  Ruth Ann did not reply. She closed the door to her mother’s room. As she walked down the hall and into the kitchen, her eyes misted with tears.

  Yvette Meng was one of the most exotically beautiful women that Nic had ever seen. She moved with a fluid grace that made her seem to float instead of merely walk. Every small, perfect feature, from her almond-shaped eyes to her full, sensuous lips, proclaimed her Eurasian heritage. Her remarkable beauty and intelligence was a unique combination of her Chinese father and French mother.

  “Please come in.” Yvette gestured a warm welcome with the sweep of her slender arm.

  “I appreciate your meeting with me this evening.”

  The moment Yvette smiled, Nic realized that she suspected why Nic was here. Maybe it had been a mistake to come here with the intention of confronting her husband’s old and dear friend. But it was too late to back out now. In for a penny, in for a pound.

  “My private quarters are not completed yet, but my office is,” Yvette said, her voice like a soft, soothing melody. “We will go there so that we will not be disturbed. I sensed from your phone call that we have much to discuss.”

  As Yvette led her out of the large, marble foyer and down the hallway to the right, Nic noted the pale green walls and dark wooden floors. And she was acutely aware of how quiet it was, so quiet you could almost hear a pin drop. Where were all of Dr. Meng’s psychic students?

  “Where is everyone?” Nic asked.

  Yvette paused by a set of closed French doors, glanced over her shoulder and smiled. “This is my private wing of the retreat. My students have rooms on the other side of the building.”

  Yvette swung the double doors open to reveal an eighteen-by-eighteen square foot room with a fireplace and sitting area in one corner and an enormous bay window spanning half the back wall. Her private office reflected her Asian heritage, with a black lacquer desk and chair, no doubt both priceless antiques, facing the windows. Two massive, hand-painted black lacquer chests flanked the fireplace.

  Yvette glided toward the windows, paused and gazed out at the lake behind the retreat that Griffin had built for her. Hesitantly, Nic walked over and stood beside her.

  “I should have invited you here sooner,” Yvette said. “I have been very busy with the contractor and with making sure my students are settled.”

  “You refer to this place as a retreat—is that how you see it?”

  Yvette faced Nic. “It is my retreat, yes, but it is more a sanctuary for my students than anything else. And I refer to them as students for lack of a more appropriate term. They are people with unusual gifts that have alienated them from their families, talents that have turned them into outcasts. I, too, have always been an outcast.”

  “So everyone living here has psychic abilities of some kind?”

  “Yes, and their abilities vary in degree. Most are marginally talented, while two are far more gifted than I am.”

  “How many students do you have living here?”

  “Seven. Three men and four women.” Yvette focused on Nic’s face. “I see that Griffin has kept his word and not shared any information about my students, not even with you.”

  “Then you asked him to keep me in the dark about—”

  “Oh, Nicole, I am so very sorry.” Yvette stared at Nic, realization in her dark eyes. “I should have given him permission to tell you. I can see that you are upset because—”

  “My husband shouldn’t have needed your permission to tell me what is going on here at Griffin’s Rest. Griff and I are married, and to me that means we don’t keep secrets from each other. We share everything. But for the past year, since you sent your first student, Meredith Sinclair here to live and Griff began construction on your retreat or sanctuary or whatever you want to call it, he has been secretive and so involved with you and your pet project that he’s neglected me and our marriage.”

  When Yvette reached out to touch her, Nic jumped back, avoiding skin-to-skin contact. She didn’t want Yvette probing into her mind, sensing her innermost thoughts and feelings.

  “I truly had no idea,” Yvette said. “But I should have. My only excuse is that constructing this sanctuary has been a dream fulfilled for me. I apologize most sincerely for allowing my needs and the needs of my students to create problems between you and Griffin.”

  Nic stood ramrod straight, every muscle in her body tight, every nerve pulsating. “I won’t apologize to you or to Griff for the way I feel. You had no right to swear him to secrecy. And he had no right to agree.”

  “Does Griffin know how you feel?”

  “I’ve tried to talk to him more than once, but he acts as if he thinks I’m being silly.”

  “You have felt this way for all these months and did not come to me. Why?”

  Good question. She’s got you there. Why didn’t you come here sooner and demand to know what was going on and why Griff was so secretive?

  “I think I was afraid of what I might learn.”

  “If you had objections to Griffin building this retreat for me, why did you not tell him when he first mentioned it to you?”

  “And sound like a jealous wife?” Nic chuckled sarcastically. “I know that everything Griff has, he has because of you. You and Sanders. Even his life. I know that all his billions were rightfully yours. So if you want or need something from Griff, he’s in no position to refuse you, is he?”

  “Griffin should have told me that you were unhappy with my living here. But I assumed that since Sanders lives in the house with you, you would have no objections to my living a mile away.”

  “Sanders may know my husband better than I do, just as you do, but he isn’t a beautiful woman. Griff isn’t in love with Sanders.”

  “And Griffin is not now nor ever has been in love with me,” Yvette said with absolute certainty. “He is very much in love with you.”

  Damn it, don’t you dare cry.

  “I want to believe you. I’ve tried to believe what you’re telling me is the truth, but…When a man’s allegiance to one woman supersedes his allegiance to another—to his wife—then a person has to question the reason why.”

  “This is my fault entirely. Please, Nicole, forgive me. Do not blame Griffin. Because of what happened in the past, because of the horrors Griffin and Sanders and I shared, we have a bond that I realize no one else truly understands. But that bond in no way is a threat to your marriage.”

  “You’re wrong. Whatever secrets Griff has not shared with me do pose a threat to our marriage.”

  “When Griffin returns home, you must speak to him and make him understand how you feel. But you must be prepared for whatever he chooses to share with you.”

  “Will he admit that the two of you were once lovers?”

  “No. We were never lovers. I swear this to you.”

  God, how she wanted to believe that was true. But if the dark secret that Griff wouldn’t share with her was not that he and Yvette had been lovers, then what was it?

  “Would you like a tour of the retreat?” Yvette asked as she led Nic out of her office and back into the hall. “If you will come back in the morning, I will give you the grand tour, and I will introduce you to my students.”

  “Yes, I’d like that. What time should I come back in the morning?”

  “Is ten o’clock suitable for you?”

  “That’s fine.”

  “And from this moment on, there will be no more secrets about the retreat. You and I must learn to trust each other more completely. I should have shared everyt
hing about my plans with you. As Griffin’s wife, you had every right to be included.”

  “I’m glad you understand.”

  “I believed we were friends, but I see now that I have not earned your trust and friendship. I will work harder to be a better friend.”

  “Good night. I’ll see you in the morning.

  Yvette nodded.

  Nic hurried ahead, not waiting for Yvette to escort her to the door. She had gotten what she came for, at least partially. And in a few days, when Griff came home, she would demand the complete truth from him. She needed to know more about his past. She needed to know his deepest, darkest secret.

  As soon as they placed their order—fried catfish, hush puppies, steak fries, slaw and a pitcher of beer—Cathy relaxed for the first time since Mike Birkett had shown up at Treasures this afternoon. She looked across the table at the man who had whisked her off the sidewalk and run away with her. For half a minute she felt seventeen again, seventeen and doing something frighteningly sinful.

  “You’re smiling,” Jack said.

  “Am I?”

  “You should run away more often. It seems to agree with you.”

  “Mother would say that I acted irresponsibly, and I suppose, in this case, she might be right. No one knows where I am, and I’m sure they’re all worried sick wondering if I jumped off the Spring Creek Bridge.”

  Jack removed his phone from the belt clip and handed it to her. “Call somebody and tell them you’re okay.”

  She stared at the iPhone in the palm of his big hand. After hesitating for a moment, she took the phone and punched in Lorie’s number. Lorie answered on the second ring.

  Apparently Jack’s name had appeared on her home phone caller ID, because the first thing she said was, “Is Cathy with you? Please, tell me she is.”

  “Lorie, it’s me, Cathy. And yes, I’m with Jack.”

  “Thank God. I’ve been worried sick. After I got rid of your mother, your in-laws and their preacher by lying to them and telling them that a wrong-number phone call was from you and you were fine, I started looking for you. One of my neighbors said they saw you get in a car with a good looking guy and I put two and two together and…Damn it, Cathy! I don’t blame you for escaping from the zoo, but did you have to run off with Jackson Perdue?”