Kisscut

Sara raised an eyebrow. "What, exactly?"

Nelly lowered her voice. "Deanie Phillips lives next door to her," she said. "She heard a loud boom yesterday and walked over to see what was happening."

"What was happening?"

"Well," Nelly said, leaning her elbows on the counter. "According to Deanie, she heard some of the cops talking about Dottie being involved in something to do with Lacey Patterson's disappearance."

Sara tried not to groan. Despite the fact that she had lived in Grant almost all of her life, Sara was still amazed at how fast gossip got around town. "Don't believe everything you hear," Sara told Nelly, though the fact that the gossip was closer to the truth than not was a little startling. There was no telling what the town would do when they found out that Dottie Weaver was really Wanda Je

"Yes, ma'am," Nelly said, a coy smile at her lips. She could read Sara almost as well as Cathy Linton could.

"Anyone call while I was out?"

"You've got three achy-grumpies," Nelly said, handing her the messages.

Sara glanced through them, asking, "When's my next appointment?"

"The Jordans in about five minutes," Nelly said. "They're scheduled for one-thirty, but you know Gillian's always late."

Sara looked at her watch, wondering why Jeffrey had not called. Surely it didn't take as long as an hour to process Teddy Patterson, especially considering it was still technically Nick's case. For just a second, she thought about calling him, but then reconsidered. Jeffrey probably would not appreciate her checking up on him, even if she had a good reason.

"I'm go

Sara looked at her watch again as she walked down the hallway. She did the math in her head, thinking Jeffrey should not take longer than an hour to get back to Grant.

She walked into exam room seven and flipped on the lights. Over the past ten years, they had used this room for storage, and it looked like it. Rows of shelves ran the length of the room like bookshelves in a library. Sara could not even remember half the things that were in here.

She opened the refrigerator and let out a curse when she saw that all the Diet Cokes were gone. "Elliot," she muttered, because he was always stealing things from the fridge. She opened the freezer and was not too surprised to see that her Dove Bars and a couple of frozen di

"I'm go

Sara walked up the hallway, feeling all the anger that had been welling up for the last week coming to a head. She stopped herself outside her office, thinking it wasn't fair to Elliot to let him take the brunt of this, even if he was a Dove-Bar-stealing ferret.

"Give me a minute," she said, holding up her hand to Nelly, who was approaching with an armful of charts.

Sara walked into her office and slid the door closed behind her. She looked around the small room, taking in all the pictures stuck on the wall, until she got to Lacey Patterson's. The photo had been taken a few years ago, and the girl's hair was shorter than Sara remembered. Compared to the school picture in the missing-person flier, Lacey could be a different girl. That was the thing with children at this age-in a couple of years, there was no telling what she would look like. She could put on weight or lose weight. Her hair might get darker or lighter. Her cheekbones might become pronounced, her jaw softer. Dottie Weaver, or who-ever she was, had this huge advantage going for her: Lacey would grow up. Of course, after a certain amount of time, this would become a liability for someone in the business of exploiting young children. What would happen to Lacey when she was too old for the game? Would she end up like her mother, abusing other children? Would she find a way to get out from Dottie's clutches?

"Dr. Linton?" Nelly knocked on the door. "Chief's on line four."

Sara leaned over her desk, snatching up the phone. "Jeff?" she asked, aware of the hope in her voice.

"We haven't found her," he said, sounding defeated.

Sara tried to hide her disappointment. The more time that passed the less likely they would be to find the girl. "I'm just glad you're okay," she said. "Did Teddy come without a fight?"

"It wasn't Teddy," he said, then told her who it was.

Sara was sure she had heard wrong. "The preacher?"

"I'll call you later, okay?"

"Yeah," she said, hanging up the phone.

Sara looked around the office. She found pictures of Dave Fine's two kids to the left of Lacey's, then let her eyes travel over the others: girls who had been in the church choir Dave helped out with, or who had been coached by him on the softball team. There was no telling how many kids Dave Fine had been trusted with, and no telling how many kids there were whose trust he had betrayed.

Chapter Nineteen

Dave Fine had asked for a Bible, and the preacher rested his right hand on top of the book as he stared blankly at Nick Shelton. He seemed almost perplexed as to why he was here.

"I love children," Fine said. "I've always loved children."

Nick leaned back in his chair, balancing it on the back legs. "Sure you do, Preacher."

Jeffrey kept his mouth closed, because Dave Fine was Nick's collar. His fists were itching to do some real damage to the preacher, and there was a buzzing in the back of Jeffrey's mind, telling him that Dottie was still out there, doing God only knows what to Lacey Patterson, and the asshole pervert across the table from him was one of the people who had helped her get away.

"Well," Nick said, holding his arms out in a big shrug. "Tell me your story."

Fine stared at the Bible, as if he felt he could get strength from the book. His hands were sweating, and Jeffrey could see a darker streak on the black cover where perspiration had rubbed off his palm.

"I've worked at the church for going on fifteen years," Fine said. "I grew up in Grant. I was baptized in that very chapel."

Nick bounced the chair slightly, waiting him out.

"I married my wife there," he continued. "I baptized my two little boys there."

Silence filled the room, and Jeffrey let himself look at Dave Fine. He was the type of man who served as a living example of the phrase "pillar of his community." Fine volunteered with the seniors' program down at the Y, delivering meals to the elderly every weekend. His children played Softball on the peewee league, and Fine coached the girls' team.

Jeffrey loosened his collar, thinking about all the young girls Fine came in contact with on a daily basis. His fists clenched again.

"I never touched any of them," Fine said, as if he could read Jeffrey's mind. "I know it's wrong. I know that." He ran his thumb along the spine of the Bible. "I prayed for strength, and God gave it to me."

Nick crossed his arms, and Jeffrey could sense that this was getting to the other man. Nick wasn't overtly religious, but Jeffrey knew that he attended church every Sunday. One of the clunky gold charms around his neck was a cross with a diamond embedded at the center.

"I never touched my children," Fine insisted. "I never hurt my boys."

Nick said, "You understand we can't take your word for that."

Fine seemed shocked that someone would not trust him. "I would never touch my sons," he said. "I would never do that."

"We know you're not into little boys." Nick told him. "But, you gotta understand. Preacher, we gotta check it out."