Blindside

“He was an accomplished car salesman,” Savich said. “It makes sense that he’d be a natural as a preacher. Mi

“I remember Eleanor told me that Sooner had been an intense, quiet boy, self-sufficient, very into himself, but when he spoke, he was always so sure of himself that people believed what he said. She said he wasn’t a happy man, understandable with a bad marriage and living in that big city selling those ridiculously expensive cars. She was quite religious herself. She prayed he would find what he was meant to do in life before she died.”

“But she didn’t live long enough to see him become an evangelist,” Sherlock said.

“No, she didn’t,” Mi

Katie looked directly at Sherlock. “Do you think Eleanor’s fall down the front stairs might not have been an accident?”

“Let me ask another question first,” Sherlock said. “Was Eleanor McCamy Ward just really well off or was she rich?”

“We could check the probate records, but everyone knows she was worth quite a bit at her death, say, maybe around five million. So, yes, I’d say she was rich.”

“And Sooner McCamy inherited everything?”

Katie nodded, sighed. “I wasn’t living here at the time, but I remember thinking that her death was awfully convenient for Sooner. But of course, no one could prove anything. You guys met him. He certainly looks the role of the stern country preacher, doesn’t he? Dark, brooding, his eyes boring right into your soul.”

“You wonder how much of it is for real,” Miles said, then rose and went off to check the kids. He returned in a moment.

Katie said, “I suppose Sooner could have killed his aunt.”

“Yes,” Savich said, nodding as he sipped Mi

Katie said, “You’re right. It’s not at all a sure thing, she could have come out of it with a sprained ankle.”

“You know,” Sherlock said after her last bite of apple pie, “I think I’m in need of some more local religion. Katie, do the Sinful Children of God meet during the week?”

“Oh yes,” Katie said. “But not on Tuesdays, that’s their day off.”

Savich said thoughtfully, “I think a better idea is for me and Sherlock to take the kids and go visit Reverend and Mrs. McCamy. You’ll know I’ll be looking real close to see his reaction to Sam. And I want to know if Sam’s ever seen him before. Do you guys think that’s a good idea?”

Mi

Sherlock thought about that for a moment, then said, “Absolutely nothing will happen to Sam with Dillon and me with him, that I can promise you, or else we wouldn’t even consider taking him over there. Just seeing how Reverend McCamy reacts when confronted with Sam, well, that could give us lots of information.”

Miles said, “Mi

Katie was gri

Late Tuesday morning, Savich and Sherlock, with both Keely and Sam in hand, knocked on the McCamys’ front door.

“Who lives here, Uncle Dillon?”

“Two very interesting people I think you kids might like meeting.”

“I’d rather watch cartoons,” Keely said and laced her fingers with Sam’s.

Sherlock said, “We’re going to have lunch with your mom, Keely, and your dad, Sam. So that means you need to hang out with me and Uncle Dillon for a while, okay? I doubt any cartoons will be playing in this house, so you’ll have to be patient.”

“She means she doesn’t want us to whine,” Keely told Sam, who nodded, then asked, “Where’s my dad?”

“He had some calls to make, you know, Conrad Evans at the plant. He said he needed you guys out of his hair for a while.”

“He always says that,” Sam said, “but then he says he can’t wait to see me again.”

Savich smiled. “That, Sam, is what’s known as a parent’s curse.”

Elsbeth McCamy came to the door after another minute had passed. She stared at the two agents, then she stared at the children.

“May we speak to you, Mrs. McCamy?” Sherlock said. “Forgive us for bringing the children, but we were the only two free adults.”

“Yes, of course. Do come in. Reverend McCamy,” she called out, “two FBI agents are here and they’ve brought children.”

It really was very old-fashioned of her to call her husband Reverend McCamy, Savich thought. But Elsbeth McCamy didn’t look the least bit old-fashioned in her tight low-slung jeans and white tube top that left three inches of bare belly showing. She was wearing a belly button ring, a delicate circle of gold. And her Jesus earrings were shining bright in the morning light pouring through the front windows.

Reverend Sooner McCamy was wearing his patented black pants, a white shirt, and a black jacket. When he came out of his study down the hall, he looked harassed. “Elsbeth, I’m ministering to Mr. and Mrs. Coombs.”

“The agents would like to speak to us.”

“Take them to the living room. I’ll see if Mr. and Mrs. Coombs can wait for ten minutes.” He raised an eyebrow as Sherlock said, “Ten minutes sounds just fine.”

Elsbeth McCamy waved them into the living room. She eyed the children again. “Hello, Keely. Can you introduce me to this little boy?”

“I’m not a little boy,” Sam said. “I’m six.”

“I see. And what is your name?”

“Sam. I’m Sam.”

Sherlock was watching her carefully when she looked at Sam. She saw nothing but an adult being polite to a child.

“No, you’re not little at all. I’m Mrs. McCamy, Sam. Welcome to my home. Do you like it here in Jessborough?”

Sam gave this some thought. “Well, those two men who kidnapped me are dead. Maybe things are better now.”

“Yes, I hope so.”

“We’re very sorry about Clancy’s death, Mrs. McCamy. The medical examiner finished this morning and he wanted me to ask you if you wanted to take care of the arrangements.”

“No, I don’t want to. Let Te

24

S am stared up at her, then he shook his head. “Really?” Sam said. “Why did your brother take me?”

“I don’t know, dear. We haven’t been close for many years now.”

“I wouldn’t want to be close to Fatso either.”

“I can see your point.”

Reverend McCamy said from the doorway, “So you’re Sam Kettering, the little boy who was kidnapped.”

“I’m not little,” Sam said.

“He’s six,” Elsbeth said.

“You look pretty little to me,” the reverend said, ignoring his wife as he walked forward to stand over Sam.

“You’re old,” Sam said, staring up at him. “That’s why you’re bigger than me.”

“Do you think Agent Savich is old?” Reverend McCamy asked, not smiling, his dark eyes intent on Sam’s face.

“Well, sure, he’s even taller than you, but he’s really strong. I’ve seen him and my dad throw each other all over the place at the gym. They punch each other, yell insults, and groan, and then they’re laughing.”

“Sam’s father and I work out together occasionally,” Savich said to Reverend McCamy. “Sam, why don’t you and Keely check out that fireplace. It looks pretty old and big to me.”