Faithless

“Predators have an i

“I kept seeing him last night, the panic in his eyes when he realized what was happening. Jesus, what a horrible way to die.”

“It’s the same thing that happened to Abby,” she reminded him. “Only she was alone in the dark and had no idea what was happening to her.”

“I think he knew,” Jeffrey said. “At least, I think he figured it out in the end.” There were two mugs in front of the coffeemaker and he filled them, handing Sara one. She saw him hesitate before taking a sip, and wondered if there would ever be a time when he could drink coffee without thinking about Cole Co

She asked, “What’s your gut feeling?”

“I don’t know,” he answered, mixing the eggs with a fork. “Lev admitted that he was attracted to Abby.”

“But that’s normal,” she said, then backed up. “Well, normal if it happened the way he said it did.”

“Paul says he was in Sava

“That could just as easily point to his i

“No news on the letter you were sent yet,” he said. “I doubt the lab will find anything anyway.” He frowned. “It’s costing a fucking fortune.”

“Why do it?”

“Because I don’t like the idea of somebody contacting you about a case,” he told her, and she could hear resentment in his tone. “You’re not a cop. You’re not involved in this.”

“They could have sent it to me knowing that I would tell you.”

“Why not just send it to the station?”

“My address is in the phone book,” she said. “Whoever sent it might have worried that a letter would get lost at the station.” She asked, “Do you think it was one of the sisters?”

“They don’t even know you.”

“You told them I was your wife.”

“I still don’t like it,” he said, dividing the eggs between two plates and adding a couple of slices of toast to each. He veered back to the original subject. “The cyanide is what’s hard to co

“Do you believe him?”

“He may beat his wife,” Jeffrey began, “but I think he was telling me the truth. Those tools are his bread and butter. He’s not going to leave that door open, especially with people coming through from the farm.” He took out the jelly and passed it to her.

“Is it possible he’s involved?”

“I don’t see how,” Jeffrey told her. “He’s got no co

“I doubt Paul would allow that.”

“Maybe I’ll tag the old man.”

“Oh, Jeffrey,” she said, feeling protective of Thomas Ward for some unknown reason. “Don’t. He’s just a helpless old man.”

“Nobody’s helpless in that family.” He paused. “Not even Rebecca.”

Sara weighed his words. “You think she’s involved?”

“I think she’s hiding. I think she knows something.” He sat beside her at the counter, picking at his eyebrow, obviously mulling over the niggling details that had kept him up all night.

Sara rubbed his back. “Something will break. You just need to start back at square one.”

“You’re right.” He looked up at her. “It keeps going back to the cyanide. That’s the key. I want to talk to Terri Stanley. I need to get her away from Dale and see what she says.”

“She’s got an appointment at the clinic today,” Sara told him. “I had to fit her in during lunch.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Her youngest hasn’t gotten any better.”

“Are you going to talk to her about the bruises?”

“I’m in the same boat as you,” she said. “It’s not like I can back her into a corner and get her to tell me what’s going on. If it were that easy, you’d be out of a job.”

Sara had experienced her own guilt last night, wondering how she had seen Terri Stanley all these years and never guessed what was happening at home.

She continued, “I can’t really betray Lena ’s confidence and for all I know, it’ll scare her off. Her kids are sick. She needs the clinic. It’s a safe place for her.” Sara assured him, “If I ever see so much as a hair disturbed on those kids, you’d better believe I’ll say something about it. She’d never leave the building with them.”

He asked, “Does she ever bring Dale with her when she comes to the clinic?”

“Not that I’ve seen.”

“Mind if I stop in to talk to her?”

“I don’t know if I’m comfortable with that,” she said, not liking the idea of her clinic being used as a second police station.

He told her, “Dale has a loaded gun in his shop, and something tells me he doesn’t like cops talking to his wife.”

“Oh,” was all she could say. That changed things.

“Why don’t I just wait around in the parking lot for her to come out?” he suggested. “Then I’ll take her to the station.”

Sara knew this would be a lot safer, but she still didn’t relish the thought of being involved in setting up Terri Stanley for a surprise attack. “She’ll have her son with her.”

“Marla loves children.”

“I don’t feel good about this.”

“I’m sure Abby Be

He had a point, but she still didn’t like it. Despite her better judgment, Sara relented. “She’s scheduled to come in at twelve fifteen.”

Brock’s funeral home was housed in a Victorian mansion that had been built in the early 1900s by the man who had run the railroad maintenance depot over in Avondale. Unfortunately, he had dipped into the railroad’s coffers in order to finance the construction and when he had been caught, the place had been sold at auction. John Brock had purchased the mansion for a ridiculously low sum and turned it into one of the nicest funeral homes this side of Atlanta.

When John died, he passed the business on to his only son. Sara had gone to school with Dan Brock and the funeral home had been on her bus route. The family lived above the business, and every weekday morning, she had cringed as the bus pulled up in front of the Brocks’ house-not because she was squeamish, but because Brock’s mother insisted on waiting outside with her son, rain or shine, so that she could kiss him good-bye. After this embarrassing farewell, Dan would clamber onto the bus, where all the boys would make smooching noises at him.

More often than not, he ended up sitting beside Sara. She hadn’t been part of the popular crowd or the drug crowd or even the geeks. Most times, she had her head in a book and didn’t notice who was sitting beside her unless Brock plopped himself down. He was chatty even then, and more than a bit strange. Sara had always felt sorry for him, and that hadn’t changed in the thirty-plus years since they had ridden to school together. A confirmed bachelor who sang in the church choir, Brock still lived with his mother.