Silent Killer Page 0,119

arms.

She looked at him today, sitting between her and his grandfather, and saw the man he would become instead of the boy he had been. He was on the precipice of manhood, a mixture of man and boy, testing his wings to see if he could safely fly away from the nest. He was tall at six feet, and she suspected he would grow another couple of inches in the next few years. Although he had inherited her brown hair, her smile, her bone structure and even her nose, he possessed his father’s beautiful blue eyes and lanky build. Wearing his navy blue suit and red and gray striped tie, with his Bible resting in his lap and sitting shoulder to shoulder with J.B, he looked every inch Mark Cantrell’s son. And for all intents and purposes, that was exactly who Seth Nelson Cantrell was, who he had been since the day he was born and Mark had claimed him as his own. But in quiet private moments within her heart, the truth still existed. And oddly enough, today of all days, when she looked at her son, so much Mark’s son, she saw neither Mark nor herself, but the twenty-year-old soldier who had been her son’s biological father.

Jackson Perdue never knew that during their brief, passionate romance, they had created a child together.

“Mom, are you all right?” Seth asked.

“Yes, I think so. But I wish the service would start soon. This must be an especially difficult ordeal for the Kelley family, considering Mrs. Kelley’s mental state.”

“Yeah, she’s kind of pitiful, isn’t she? She acts like she doesn’t even know where she is or who her kids are.”

“Alzheimer’s is a horrific disease.”

“Thanks for coming here today,” Seth said, keeping his voice low. “I know you did it for me.”

“And you’re here for your grandfather.”

He leaned closer and whispered, “I think I should stay with Granddad and Nana the rest of this weekend. Is that okay with you? I know my weekends are supposed to be with you, but—”

“It’s all right, honey. I understand. And I’m so very proud of you.”

Seth’s eyes misted.

The church’s choir took their places quickly and then sang the first of six songs that were dispersed throughout the service. With her hands folded in her lap, Cathy let her gaze sweep over the audience in front of them and on either side. She recognized numerous faces. Edith Randolph, the second victim’s wife, sat directly in front of her, along with the Lutheran minister’s children and teenage grandchildren. She assumed the three Catholic priests to their left were here on behalf of Father Brian. On the other side of the church, not part of the reserved seating for the victims’ families, she caught a glimpse of Patsy and Elliott Floyd as well as Brother Hovater, although he seemed to be alone. Undoubtedly, he had allowed Missy to skip the funeral, which in Cathy’s estimation made him a good father. Reverend Phillips and his wife sat with several other black couples who Cathy assumed were members of his church.

She couldn’t help wondering how many area clergymen were attending today, each one thinking “But by the grace of God…” No one knew who would be next. And no one knew how the killer chose his victims. Of all people to target, why men of God?

Anyone who had known Mark had known what a fine Christian man he was. A good husband. A good father. How could anyone have thrown gasoline on him and set him on fire?

Cathy shivered as the memories of that day zipped through her mind, moment by moment of that terrible afternoon replaying vividly inside her head like some eerie slide show. She heard his screams, saw him on fire, his clothing and the body beneath burning. She could still smell that distinct scent of gasoline and charred flesh. A tight knot formed in her belly.

“Mom? Mom?”

Seth grasped her arm and shook her gently. She stared at him through a haze of tears.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he told her. “You shouldn’t have come.”

“Neither should you.”

“I’m okay. I—I wasn’t with Dad when he died. You were.”

She nodded, glad that her son understood how her memories of that fateful day were tormenting her.

“Go home,” Seth said.

“I think I should leave.” She kissed his cheek. “Call me this evening, okay?”

“I will.”

She quietly rose to her feet and made her way out of the pew, exiting on the opposite side from the Cantrells and her mother. She knew people were watching