The Fifth Victim Part 6

"What?"

"That's all he said. Just told me to tell you to get your a.s.s over there p.r.o.nto."

"d.a.m.n! What's going on around here? We haven't had a murder in Cherokee Pointe in years and now we have two in the county in forty-eight hours."

Jacob strapped on his hip holster, put on his leather jacket, and yanked his Stetson off the hook by the door, then headed through the outer office. Once outside, he moved carefully over the icy sidewalk until he reached his truck. His booted feet made large, deep impressions in the snow piled up along the edge of the street. He unlocked his black Dodge Ram, climbed inside and started the engine. While sitting there, letting the engine idle and warm, he allowed his mind to wander, allowed himself to question his decision to run for sheriff this past year.

He'd been born and raised in Cherokee County, a poor boy, a quarter-breed, a young h.e.l.lion who'd joined the navy at eighteen. Ten months ago, when he'd left the service, put his years as a SEAL behind him and come home, he'd been hailed as a hero. When Farlan MacKinnon had approached him about running for sheriff, he hadn't seriously considered the offer of his backing. But Farlan had been insistent. And what Farlan wanted, he usually got. One of the two richest men in the county, and the most influential man in his political party, Farlan had promised Jacob that if he ran for office, he'd win. The old man had been right. Now Jacob wondered why the h.e.l.l he'd let Farlan and his cohorts talk him into this job.

A horn honking behind him brought Jacob back to the present moment. He glanced through his partially defrosted back window and saw Royce Pierpont, in his silver Lexus sedan, throw up a hand and wave at him. Jacob returned the wave. Why was Royce bothering to open up his antique shop today? Jacob wondered. There wouldn't be any tourists in town with weather like this, and probably not many locals either.

Jacob s.h.i.+fted the gear into reverse, backed up, and headed down the street, going slow and easy over the thin sheet of ice still clinging to the asphalt.

A large brick structure that had been built in the early twentieth century and modernized from time to time, the Congregational Church was on the corner of Monroe and Highland. Jacob parked his truck, got out, and headed up the sidewalk. Policemen swarmed like bees inside and out. Looked like the entire Cherokee Pointe police department was here.

Chief Watson met Jacob in the vestibule the minute he entered the building. "Glad you're here," he said. "It's a b.l.o.o.d.y mess in there."

"Bobby Joe said you mentioned that this murder was similar to Susie Richards'-"

"Another sacrificial killing," Watson said. "I saw the pictures of Susie Richards your department took, but I'm telling you that unless you see it for real, you can't imagine how bad it is."

"Mind if I take a look?" Jacob steeled himself to view another horrific crime scene.

Chief Watson led Jacob into the sanctuary. Morning sunlight flooded through the stained-gla.s.s windows, casting bright rainbows over the wooden pews with their red velvet seats.

"She's up here, on the altar," Watson said.

"Hmm."

Several members of the forensic crew busied themselves gathering evidence. Jacob moved closer, took a quick look, and glanced away.

"Cindy Todd."

The mayor's wife lay naked atop the altar, her calves and feet hanging off the end, a gaping wound from b.r.e.a.s.t.s to pubic area glistening with blood and exposed entrails.

"It's enough to turn a man's stomach," Watson said, his face pale and sweaty.

"Has anyone contacted Jerry Lee?" Jacob asked.

"I called him right before I called you. Told him to come down to the police department, but I didn't give him any specifics. Just told him it was important."

"He came by my office early this morning looking for her."

"You don't reckon Jerry Lee could have-"

"Not his style," Jacob said. "He'd have either shot her or beat the h.e.l.l out of her. Besides, this has all the earmarks of being identical to Susie Richards' murder."

"You think we got ourselves a serial killer here in Cherokee Pointe?"

Jacob shook his head. "Too soon to make that kind of judgment. Could be some sort of cult thing."

"You mean one of them devil-wors.h.i.+ping cults?"

"Just a possibility." Jacob glanced around and quickly spotted the church's new minister and his wife huddled together toward the back of the sanctuary, a police officer speaking to them. "Who found the body?"

"Reverend Stowe," Watson said. "The guy's pretty shook up, but then who wouldn't be?"

"What's his wife doing here?"

"After he called us from his office down the hall there"-Watson indicated the location of the office with a nod of his head-"he went back home and waited for us. He and Mrs. Stowe came back over here together."

Jacob studied the Stowes for a moment before turning his attention to the chief. "I think we probably need some help. Neither your department nor mine is equipped to handle this sort of crime, especially not now that there have been two identical murders."

"Don't go putting us down," Watson said. "I've got no intention of calling in outside help. Not yet."

"Do you think your department can handle this case if it turns out we're dealing with a serial killer?"

"h.e.l.lfire, Jacob, I thought you said it was probably a devil-wors.h.i.+ping cult."

"I don't know for sure. And that's the problem. I'm new at this job, and my experience in matters like this is nil. The resources of the Cherokee County Sheriff's Department is limited. And I'm not too proud to ask for help when I need it."

"Then, boy, you go ahead and call for help. I don't need any. I've been police chief for fifteen years. I know my way around a murder investigation."

Jacob knew better than to argue with Roddy Watson, the stubborn, narrow-minded, ignorant son of a b.i.t.c.h. "Whatever you say."

Just as Jacob turned to leave, Jerry Lee Todd came storming into the church. When several policemen tried to stop him, he shoved them aside and when they moved to overpower him, Chief Watson motioned for them to leave the mayor alone. Jerry Lee ran toward the altar.

"Hold up there," Watson called. "You don't want to do this."

"Is it her?" Jerry Lee asked. "Is it my Cindy?"

"Yeah, it's Cindy," Watson replied. "Believe me, Jerry Lee, you do not want to-"

"What happened? Is she really dead?" Jerry Lee barreled past the forensic team, taking no heed of their requests for him not to disturb the scene.

Jerry Lee skidded to a halt when he saw his wife's mutilated body. "Cindy! Oh, G.o.d, Cindy!"

"h.e.l.l," Watson murmured.

Jacob rushed forward and grabbed Jerry Lee's shoulder, stopping him from getting any closer to Cindy's body. Jerry Lee spun around, grief and fury in his eyes. "Let me go, d.a.m.n you. I've got to see her, talk to her, touch her."

"No," Jacob said. "What you've got to do is let the police do their job so they can find the person responsible."

"You can't stop me. That's my wife." Jerry Lee jerked away from Jacob. "I have every right to-"

Jacob drew back his fist and clipped Jerry Lee on the temple. The mayor dropped like dead weight tossed into the river. Turning to Chief Watson, Jacob said, "Get a couple of your boys to take him home and stay with him until he calms down."

"He's going to be mad as h.e.l.l when he comes to," Watson said. "But you did what you had to do."

Jacob nodded. "You know where to reach me if you need me."

He left the murder scene, left behind the c.o.c.ky, stupid police chief, and took a lot of unanswered questions with him.

Esther Stowe held her husband's hands tightly in hers as they stood at the back of the sanctuary. They had answered questions repeatedly for the past hour and still they weren't allowed to leave. They'd been told the chief would want to verify a few things. Esther wasn't sure how much longer Haden could hold himself together. Her husband wasn't emotionally strong. If not for her strength, he wouldn't be the man he was today.

Sometimes she regretted having married such a weakling and longed for a man who was her equal. No one would ever guess, seeing Haden and her together, that she was the dominant partner. To the world they presented a rather amusing facade, the old-fas.h.i.+oned married couple, with the husband as head of the household. Haden Stowe didn't have the b.a.l.l.s to be the man of the house, but it served her purpose to allow him to playact the part.

Haden whispered, "What if they find-"

"They won't!"

"But what if-"

"Shut up. There's no way they'll find it. It's not here in the church. It's in our house, and there's no reason for them to search our house."

"How could this have happened? Why here? Why in my church?" He looked at her accusingly. "You didn't-"

"Don't be absurd. Of course I didn't."

"But she was sacrificed, just like the other one."

"We were not involved with either. You know that." Haden nodded.

Esther kept her gaze fixed on the sheriff as he left the building. Chief Watson she could handle. The man was an idiot. But Jacob Butler was another matter. The sheriff could prove dangerous to her. He needed to be watched. Watched closely.

Chapter 6.

Genny woke slowly, languidly, feeling safe and secure. Several moments pa.s.sed before she remembered what had happened. When she did remember, a deep, profound sadness overwhelmed her. She'd had another vision. One yesterday around dawn and then a second one this morning at daybreak. Both times she had sensed what the killer was going to do. Yesterday she'd actually witnessed his crime. Today she had seen only the woman's body lying on the altar and felt the man's antic.i.p.ation. Oh, G.o.d, the poor woman was probably already dead by now. Genny had received a forewarning this time, but it had come to her far too late to help save this second victim.

Morning suns.h.i.+ne brightened the bedroom, telling Genny she had slept for hours. Glancing around the room, she caught sight of Dallas Sloan asleep in the corner chair, Drudwyn curled on the rug beside him. Odd how her wildly protective dog had accepted this man, as if he, too, sensed a trustworthiness in Dallas. When she rose from the bed and dropped her bare feet to the floor, Drudwyn lifted his head and stared at her. She placed a finger to her lips. Drudwyn rumbled an aborted yowl. Dallas's eyelids flew open and his gaze connected with Genny's.

"Good morning," she said as she reached down for her robe at the foot of the bed.

As Dallas sat up straight, the white cotton afghan slipped off his shoulders and down to his waist, revealing his muscular chest.

"Are you all right now?" he asked.

She nodded, belting the long pink chenille robe and tightening the sash around her waist.

After tossing the afghan aside, Dallas stood and stretched. "I didn't mean to fall asleep. I must have been beat."

"Then you haven't checked the phones, have you?"

He shook his head. "Afraid not."

Genny lifted the receiver from the telephone base on her nightstand and placed it to her ear. "Still no dial tone." She walked over to the window, pulled back the curtain and secured it on a clip behind the window frame. After glancing out, she said, "It's a beautiful day. The sun might melt away some of the snow. We should be able to get into town this afternoon, if the snowplows make it up this far."

Without waiting for a comment from Dallas, she motioned to Drudwyn. "Time to go out, boy." Her gaze fell on Dallas. "How do pancakes with maple syrup for breakfast sound to you?"

"Delicious," he replied. "But please don't go to any trouble for me. I usually just grab a quick cup of coffee before I head out in the morning."

"Why don't you take a shower, while I let Drudwyn out and start breakfast? I have a gas hot-water heater, so even with the electricity out, you'll have plenty of hot water."

"Sounds good to me."

"I'm sorry I don't have anything for you to change into, but I don't think anything of mine would work, and when Jacob moved into town last year, he didn't leave any of his clothes behind."

"I'll be fine."

"All right. When you finish your shower, you'll find me in the kitchen."

Although a powerful magnetism drew her to Dallas, she forcefully pulled herself away from him. As she went through the house toward the kitchen, Drudwyn at her heels, she thought about the peculiar feelings Dallas Sloan evoked in her. From the first moment she opened the door to him last night, she'd known he was destined to become important to her. As a friend? As a lover? Or simply as an instrument of change in her life? She wasn't sure. She knew only that her fate was intertwined with the big, blond stranger's.

When she opened the back door, Drudwyn bounded onto the porch and out into the snow. s.h.i.+vering, she closed the door quickly. Two sets of high double windows on the outside walls let light flood into the kitchen. Genny flipped the switch to check for electricity. Just as she had suspected, the power was still out. She set about preparing the coffee in an old metal pot, then placed it atop the gas cookstove. While the coffee brewed, she prepared the batter for their pancakes. As she kept herself occupied, she tried not to think about this morning's vision, but her mind kept replaying the scene over and over in her mind.

Another young woman dead. She'd been able to tell that the woman was fairly young because her b.r.e.a.s.t.s had been firm, her body supple. Who had been killed this time? And where? The first victim had been slaughtered on a makes.h.i.+ft altar in the woods. But this time the altar had been more elaborate, similar to ones used in churches.

Oh, G.o.d! Multicolored light. Stained gla.s.s. A decoratively carved altar. Had he murdered this woman in a church? In a church in Cherokee Pointe?

Genny's hands trembled. A fresh egg fell from her fingers to the floor and splattered its sticky contents across the wide planks. She hurried to clean up the mess and get on with preparing the pancakes. There was absolutely nothing she could do for the second victim, just as there had been nothing she could do for Susie Richards. Why, Lord? Why give me this incredible gift and not allow it to be used to save lives?

Fifteen minutes later, Dallas joined her at the kitchen table. His thick, unruly hair was still damp, and a day's growth of brown beard stubble added a rather rakish quality to his ruggedly handsome appearance. His dark slacks and white s.h.i.+rt were wrinkled, but his slightly disheveled appearance didn't seem to bother him at all. And oddly enough, Genny thought it made him all the more appealing.

"Something sure smells good," he said.

"Please, sit down. Everything is ready."

They sat across from each other at the big, round table and ate in relative silence, occasionally exchanging glances. While she picked at her food, he ate heartily and asked for seconds.

"Would you like another cup of coffee?" she asked as she rose from her seat.

"Stay there," he told her. "I should be waiting on you. After all, you cooked for us."

"I have to get up anyway. Drudwyn and the others need to be fed."

"The others?"

"The squirrels, racc.o.o.ns, birds, and other wild creatures that depend on me in weather like this."

"You must have quite a feed bill if you're providing food for all the animals out there in those woods."

"I have more than enough money for my needs, so I share my bounty with others."