London Carter Boxed Set: Books 4 - 6

by BJ Bourg

  “His sermons are ordained by the Lord,” Shelby explained. “Whatever message God impresses upon him is what he teaches.”

  “Let me ask it another way. Do you know of any women in the church who are committing adultery?”

  Shelby hesitated again, but then shook her head.

  “I noticed that Nehemiah’s wife didn’t look too happy with his speech.” Dawn snapped her fingers. “What’d he say her name was again…?”

  “Her name is Gretchen.”

  “Gretchen, right. Who’s she banging?”

  Shelby began to look extremely uncomfortable, turning her head from side to side as though someone might be listening. “I’d like you to leave now.”

  “I’d like you to tell me who’s screwing the preacher’s wife.”

  “No one…and she would be offended if she heard you ask such a question.”

  “You do know lying is a sin, don’t you?” Dawn asked. “And the wages of sin is…”

  “Death,” I said when Dawn allowed her voice to trail off.

  “Do I have to continue answering your questions?” Shelby’s eyes were wide and she was clutching at her collar. “I don’t feel comfortable answering these types of questions and I’d really like to get to bed now, so if you don’t mind…”

  “Just remember your friend was murdered in the most heinous way possible,” Dawn said. “And the killer’s out there right now looking for the next sinner to crucify, so if you know something—anything at all—you’d better spill it.”

  “Please leave,” Shelby said with a sternness that seemed out of character for her.

  CHAPTER 20

  12:30 a.m., Monday, August 18

  Debbie Brister lay wide awake. She’d been staring in the darkness toward ceiling for over an hour, trying not to move until her husband, Gerard, fell asleep. When he finally started snoring, she eased the covers off and slid her feet to the floor. She paused, but there was no break in his snoring.

  Guilt tugged at her heart as the words from Father Masters’ sermon haunted her, and she was tempted to stay in bed. Is he really a prophet? she wondered. Is it true that God speaks to him?

  True or not, it felt like he was looking directly at her during his sermon. All the talk about evil women and adultery had struck a chord so loud that she’d almost broken down and confessed to Gerard on the drive home. But she hadn’t, and it was only because she didn’t want to hurt him.

  If I don’t want to hurt him, then why do I mess around?

  She sighed, listening to the steady snores of the man beside her. She’d met him at a church in Seasville soon after separating from her husband of thirteen years. Having been married for that long, she was terrified to get back out in the dating world, and Gerard just sort of plopped into her lap one day at church—literally. She had been sitting at the end of a pew with her daughter and they were listening to the church service when a man walked down the aisle and took a seat right on top of her. She had screeched and he had apologized profusely, explaining that he meant to sit in the pew behind her, which was empty, but he wasn’t paying attention.

  The incident had created quite a disturbance to the service, but no one seemed to mind and she and Gerard hit it off from there. They became good friends and she was happy to have someone to talk to, but it wasn’t long before Gerard wanted more than friendship. She didn’t feel the same about Gerard and, when she expressed that sentiment, their friendship stalled. While she would never admit it out loud, she still loved her ex-husband and she was hoping they could reconcile. But when the divorce became final a few months later, she was faced with a terrifying reality—it was possible she could spend the rest of her life alone.

  She was honest enough with herself to realize she’d made some mistakes during the year of separation, but it was only out of desperation over losing control of the only man she had ever loved. She had apologized profusely to her ex and to her daughter, but, nonetheless, her actions had caused her daughter not to want to spend time with her anymore. That was a crushing blow, but it was nothing compared to watching her estranged husband move on with another woman—someone younger and prettier. It was in that low and lonely moment that she turned to Gerard, who always loved her far more than she deserved.

  Trying to push back the flood of guilt, she stood carefully to her feet, but paused when there was a break in Gerard’s snoring. She held her breath, waiting for him to adjust his position and settle in once more. When his mouth slid open and he fell back into a deep sleep, she stole silently across the floor, her feet padding lightly against the thick carpet. She slipped through the door and made her way quietly to the bathroom, where she shrugged out of her night shirt. She pulled on some shorts, slipped into her sandals, and pulled on a T-shirt. She didn’t even bother putting on a bra, because she’d only have to take it off again in a few minutes.

  She then dropped to her knees and reached behind the toilet, where a piece of base molding was propped up against the wall. She pulled the molding free and slid her hand into the crack behind it and, using two of her fingers, pulled out a small black cellular phone. She turned it on and waited nervously for the display screen to light up. When it did, she sent a simple text message to the only contact on the phone: On my way.

  Clutching the cell phone in her hands, she pushed her ear to the bathroom door before opening it. She sighed as the sound of steady snores continued from her bedroom. I’m home free!

  When Debbie slipped out the back door, she was instantly attacked by an army of mosquitoes. She waved them off and hurried to her car. It was a Nissan and it didn’t make much noise, so she wasn’t worried about Gerard waking up at that point. She cranked up the engine and backed smoothly out of the driveway and then headed west on Plymouth Highway.

  She checked her cell phone, but hadn’t received a response yet, so she dropped it between her legs and put both hands on the steering wheel, watching the narrow road carefully. She couldn’t afford to get in a wreck, because that would be a bit difficult to explain.

  “The wages of sin is death!”

  The words from Father Masters’ sermon popped into her head just as she drove past the property where Kathleen Bertrand’s body was found crucified, and she jerked in her skin. Someone at church said a note had been found over Kathleen’s head claiming she was a sinner, and someone speculated she had been punished for committing adultery.

  “That should be a lesson to every adulterous woman in this town,” Gerard had said on the way home from church just a few hours earlier. “Like Father Masters said, the wages of sin is death, and, if you ask me, that temptress got what she deserved.”

  The venom in Gerard’s voice had surprised Debbie, but she had elected to sit quietly and not respond, because she felt as though anything she said would drip with guilt. She had stared out the window wondering if he knew what she had been doing. While he hated confrontation, she didn’t believe he could keep quiet if he suspected her of infidelity—

  “What the hell?” Lights flashed in the rearview mirror and Debbie instantly glanced down at her speedometer. “Poop!”

  She had just hit the last curve heading out of Plymouth East and hadn’t slowed down when the speed limit dropped to thirty-five. She was going forty-eight. Tapping her brakes to let the officer know she was aware of the pending traffic stop, she continued coasting until she found a spot where the shoulder was wide enough to fit her car. The Nissan jostled as she guided it onto the rough and uneven surface and she slid her window down when she came to a complete stop.

  After quickly grabbing her driver’s license from her purse and the registration and insurance card from the glove compartment, she folded her arms across her breasts, silently cursing herself for not wearing a bra. She had only planned to drive down the highway to Kim Berry’s house, spend an hour with him, and then get back home before Gerard woke up. She’d done it many times and had never even seen a vehicle on the road at this hour, much less a cop.

  “What the hell i
s a patrol deputy doing out here at this time, anyway?” she said aloud. “They never come back here unless they’re called.”

  That’s when it dawned on her—they must be running extra patrols because of the murder. She was suddenly glad to see the deputy. It made her feel safer out here all alone. Of course, how would she explain to Gerard that she got a ticket at that hour? Maybe she’d tell him she wanted a midnight snack and they didn’t have any milk. That was plausible. The only store in the area that was open twenty-four hours was in Gracetown, so she would have to go get the milk to establish her alibi and then—

  “Step out of the car, ma’am.”

  Startled, Debbie screeched and threw her hands in the air, losing her driver’s license in the process. She hadn’t realized the officer had approached the car, and apologized as she felt around on the floor for the license. When she found it, she looked up to hand it to the officer, but was blinded by a flashlight.

  “Wow, is that really necessary?” she asked, shoving her documents toward the bright light. “I’m not the Taliban.”

  “Ma’am, step out of the car and do it now,” came the terse and authoritative reply.

  “Look, I really have to get home, so could you please just write the ticket and let me be on my—”

  “Woman, do what you’re told,” said the officer, jerking the door open.

  “Do you know who my ex-husband is?” Debbie demanded, lifting her arm to shield it from the light. “I know what you can and can’t do, and you definitely can’t—”

  “Shut your mouth, you filthy whore!”

  A hand reached from the light and grabbed Debbie by the throat. She tried to resist, but the officer wrenched her from the front seat like a sack of flour and tossed her to the side of the road. She fell hard to her face, but quickly rolled to her back and looked up as the figure approached at a slow walk.

  “You can’t do this,” she said weakly. “You’re an officer of the law. There are rules—”

  The light that was blinding her suddenly turned toward the figure and she wet herself when she realized this was not an officer.

  “What do you want?” she asked, her voice trembling as tears poured from her eyes. “Why did you stop me?”

  “It’s time for you to pay for your sins.”

  CHAPTER 21

  8:30 a.m., Chateau, Louisiana

  I scowled as I glanced at the clock on my truck’s dash. Dawn and I were originally supposed to be in front of Abrams Falls in thirty minutes, where I would’ve dropped down to one knee to ask for her hand in marriage. Instead, we were pulling up to the Ash and Kat Law Firm in downtown Chateau to speak with Ashley LaCroix.

  “What’s wrong with you?” Dawn asked as I shoved the gearshift in park and pushed my door open.

  “I’m a little bummed about our vacation.”

  Dawn eyed me suspiciously. “We’re still going when this is over, right?”

  “Yeah, but it won’t be the same.”

  “Why not?” she pressed.

  “For one, the same cabin won’t be available.”

  She shrugged. “It doesn’t matter to me where we stay—as long as you’re there.”

  I smiled, but it quickly faded when I thought again about the conversation I’d had with the photographer earlier in the morning. She had called to tell me she’d made a mistake and she wouldn’t be available Thursday.

  I stepped out and Dawn followed me down the sidewalk. Cars lined both sides of the streets and people rushed by us, everyone in a hurry to get somewhere. The courthouse was on the next block and they were always busy on Mondays. When we reached the front door to Ash and Kat Law, I opened the door and stepped back for Dawn to enter.

  She smiled coyly. “You’d better not stop doing that when we get old.”

  My chest swelled. She’ll definitely say yes.

  Dawn stepped to the sliding glass window and dinged the bell that rested on the counter. Within seconds, the glass slid open and a familiar face peered through.

  “Miss Dawn! Mr. London!”

  We both smiled as Lily Pierce jumped to her feet and rushed around to open the door. She was one of my former snipers’ daughters and she found herself all alone when her dad and brother were killed three years ago. Things had been rough for her, but she had gutted through the evil cards life had dealt her and was on her way to being a successful and productive young lady. She was pursuing a degree in political science and planned to attend law school once she graduated next year.

  When she stepped out into the lobby, Lily threw her arms around Dawn first and then me, and asked how we were doing.

  “We’re great,” Dawn said. “What about you? How long have you worked here?”

  “A few months.” She was beaming, and it made me feel good to see her happy. “I work here between classes and I volunteer at the animal shelter on the weekends.”

  We caught up for a few minutes and then she asked if we needed something or if we were there to visit.

  “We actually need to speak with Ashley LaCroix,” I said. “It’s about her partner, Kathleen Bertrand.”

  Lily’s face fell and she leaned close. “She’s taking it really hard. I mean, we’re all a little freaked out about everything, but she’s taking it the hardest. They were more than partners—they were best friends.”

  “Is she in?” I asked.

  Lily nodded. “I’ll let her know you’re here.”

  We waited in the lobby for a couple of minutes.

  “She looks amazing,” Dawn whispered. “I’m so glad she’s doing well.”

  “Me, too.” I smiled, knowing her dad, Dean, would’ve been proud. I only wished he could be here to see her all grown up and taking life by the horns.

  When Lily returned to the lobby, she waved for us to follow her. “Mrs. LaCroix has to be in court for nine, so she said she can meet for about ten minutes.”

  We thanked Lily when she opened the door to Ashley LaCroix’s office and let us in. I made the introductions and we took a seat across from Ashley, who was a thin blonde with an Alabama accent. Her eyes were puffy from crying the night before—and probably ever since she heard the news about Kathleen—but her jaw was bravely set and she looked determined to make it through the interview without showing emotion.

  “Kathleen was more than a friend and partner,” she began slowly. “She was family.”

  “I’m so sorry for your loss,” I said soothingly. “And I hate that we have to bother you with questions.”

  “Do you have any leads?”

  I frowned. “We’re working on it, but, so far…”

  “Her husband did it.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Joey?”

  “Yeah, he’s been freaking out ever since Kathleen began reclaiming her independence.” She took a breath and continued. “Joey, he’d rather sit at home in front of a television with one hand shoved in the front of his pants and the other holding a beer. Kathleen had dreams, she was adventurous. She wanted to travel and see the world, but Joey didn’t let.”

  “He didn’t let?” I asked. “How could he stop her?”

  “When they first met, Joey was a hard worker, or that’s what Kathleen thought. He supported her all through law school. He paid the bills, paid for her gas to drive back and forth, paid for her meals, bought all of her clothes—everything. Since she didn’t have an income for three years, everything was in his name. The credit cards, bank accounts, vehicles, the house, utilities. He controlled all of it.

  “Once she graduated from law school and started working, she left things as they were. Her checks were direct deposited into the checking account Joey had always managed and she let him continue to take care of the bills. That’s when things started to change.”

  “How do you mean?” I asked.

  “Now that Kathleen was working, Joey figured he could take it easy. He would go weeks without working—he’d just sit around the house and drink—and when Kathleen began questioning him, he’d get angry and tell her
he had supported her all through law school and it was time for her to support him.

  “They began arguing all the time about the finances. If Kathleen needed money, she’d have to ask him for some. He didn’t want her to have a checkbook or a debit card, because he said there were bills to pay and he didn’t want her spending more than they had. She came in to work crying more than a few times. She felt weak and foolish.” Ashley shook her head. “She trusted him and he totally betrayed her. While she thought he was loving and supportive, he was actually manipulating her and using her. He saw her as a cash cow and he only supported her because she would make a nice living as a lawyer. He knew how generous and kind she was, and he knew he would be able to guilt her into doing whatever he wanted her to do later.”

  After Ashley provided more back story, I asked why she suspected Joey.

  “He was losing his livelihood and he didn’t like it. Kathleen was taking steps to divorce him, and he knew it. She opened her own checking account, diverted her paycheck to it, and told him he’d have to start carrying some of the bills. And then—BOOM!—she’s dead. It doesn’t take a detective to figure this one out.”

  I nodded slowly, studying Ashley. Her face was red with passion and I wondered if she would lie to protect her friend.

  “There’s no good way to ask this…was Kathleen cheating on Joey?”

  “If she was, she never told me.”

  “Did you ever suspect her of cheating on him?”

  Ashley shook her head.

  “What about at the conferences? Did she ever get friendly with anyone when y’all were there or take anyone back to her room?”

  Ashley cocked her head to the side. “What conferences?”

  “The conferences in Dark Sands, Mississippi. Joey said Kathleen told him y’all meet once a month with the partners for an extended weekend…”