Silent Killer Page 0,50
the reason you won’t give Lorie a second chance—because of your kids?”
Mike frowned. “I’m not discussing Lorie with you. But as for you and Cathy…You’re both consenting adults. I’d just hate to see either of you get hurt.”
When Cathy came out of the bathroom, makeup removed, teeth brushed and pajamas on, she came face-to-face with Lorie.
“I thought you’d gone to bed,” Cathy said.
“No. I thought you might need to talk.”
“About Jack?”
Lorie’s mouth curved into a strained smile.
“It just happened,” Cathy told her. “Neither of us planned it. He happened to be driving by and saw me. He stopped. We talked. I told him I wanted to run away, and he invited me to run away with him.”
“And you did.”
“Uh-huh. And I’ll be honest with you—it felt good to be with him. It felt good to go someplace with loud music and laughter all around us, to eat greasy, fattening food and to dance and forget about everything else.”
“But with Jackson Perdue, of all people.”
“Why not with Jack?”
“Good Lord, do I have to remind you of how your first love affair with him ended?”
“I’m not a naïve seventeen-year-old girl.”
“Oh, honey, you’re still halfway in love with him, aren’t you?”
She started to staunchly deny it, but the words died on her lips. “I don’t know. Maybe just a little bit. Don’t they say that you never forget your first love?”
“I guess you know what a risk you’d be taking getting involved with him. J.B. and Mona aren’t likely to approve. And heaven help you when your mother finds out.”
“Mother isn’t running my life anymore, and neither are my in-laws. I plan to make all my own decisions for the rest of my life. If I want to date Jack, I’ll date Jack.”
“I’m the last person in this world to argue against rekindling an old romance,” Lorie said. “God knows, I’d like nothing better than to get a second chance with Mike. But there’s more to consider than what you want or how your mother and in-laws will react.”
“You’re talking about Seth.”
“Yes, I am. If his reaction tonight is any indication, he’s not going to be happy about your dating anybody. And if by some miracle he gets to know and like Jack, how are you going to deal with that?” Lorie gently grasped Cathy’s shoulders. “Jack is no fool, you know. Sooner or later, he’ll figure it out.”
Chapter Eleven
Jack folded the morning newspapers—the Dunmore Daily, the Huntsville Times and the Decatur Daily—and dumped them into the wastebasket. Four days ago, after Father Brian’s charred body had been found at the park, a hotshot Huntsville Times reporter named Grant Sharpe had given the killer a particularly appropriate label, dubbing him the Fire and Brimstone Killer. The local and regional press had picked up on the title, and now even the folks at the sheriff’s department were using the phrase. So here they were, ninety-six hours after the priest’s horrific murder, without even one suspect, a fact that the press pointed out in bold headlines. Sharpe’s coverage of the case stated that the task force, comprised of members from both local and state law-enforcement agencies, had a serial killer on their hands and apparently weren’t equipped to deal with that type of case. The reporter had all but referred to the task-force members as a bunch of redneck yokels who couldn’t stick their finger up their ass with both hands.
The autopsy results weren’t in yet, but no one expected the findings to reveal anything more than the initial report had told them. Brian Myers had been doused with gasoline and set on fire. Possibly, the severe third-degree burns over most of his body hadn’t killed him. Not instantly. Shock had probably set in, and without immediate medical attention, the priest’s body had shut down. But even if he had been discovered quickly and rushed to the hospital, his odds wouldn’t have been good. After all, Mark Cantrell and Charles Randolph hadn’t survived.
Jack gathered up the crime-scene photos spread out before him and opened the file folder to replace them, but when he heard someone say his name, he laid everything down on his gray, metal desk. Glancing around the open office area—his desk was located on the left, near the windows—he saw one of his fellow officers talking to a stranger and pointing his way. The tall, lanky guy, dressed in casual yet obviously expensive slacks, shirt and jacket, smiled at the officer, thanked him and walked straight toward Jack. As he approached, Jack