Silent Killer Page 0,91
husband. But it was more than that. Jack’s gut instincts picked up some weird vibes from the preacher man.
“Enjoy your evening,” Cathy said, deliberately avoiding eye contact with Jack.
“Yeah, you, too,” Mike said when Jack remained silent.
As soon as the foursome was out of earshot, Mike sat down, his face crunched in a disapproving frown. “That went well, don’t you think?” he said sarcastically. “Why didn’t you just sock the guy in the jaw instead of shaking his hand?”
“Why should Jack have hit Brother Hovater?” Hannah asked.
“Yeah, you told us to never start a fight,” M.J. added.
“Jeez,” Mike grumbled under his breath. He pulled out a ten from his wallet and handed it to his son. “Take Hannah with you and y’all go get ice cream for dessert.”
As soon as his children headed off toward the nearby concession stand, Mike leaned forward and said, “What’s going on between you and Cathy?”
“Nothing.”
“Don’t give me that. The vibes between you two were so intense, I’m surprised—”
“I want her. She wants me. But she’s not ready for anything more than friendship.” Jack slid out of the booth and stood. “I think I’ll pass on the bowling. Thanks for inviting me.”
“Running away won’t solve your problem.”
“A smart soldier knows when to retreat and work on new battle plans.”
Mike shook his head. “Is that how you think of your relationship with Cathy, as a battle? You think Donnie Hovater is your enemy?”
“I think he wants Cathy,” Jack said. “And I damn well don’t intend to let him have her.”
Jack didn’t wait around to hear what else Mike had to say. He walked out of the bowling alley and went directly to his car. After sliding behind the wheel, he sat there and stared through the windshield into the dark night sky.
What the hell was the matter with him? Hadn’t he decided, just this morning, that what he needed was to get laid? Cathy Nelson Cantrell was not the only woman in the world, not even the only woman in Dunmore, Alabama. If all he wanted was a one-night stand, he could go to any bar in Dunmore or nearby Decatur, Athens or Huntsville and probably have his pick.
As for Donnie Hovater, if Cathy preferred his type—Mark Cantrell’s type—then who the hell cared? He’d never fought for the rights to a woman, had never known one worth fighting for, except maybe his mother and definitely his sister. So why did he want to beat the living daylights out of the preacher, stomp him to the ground, walk over him and claim his prize?
Jack slammed both fists down against the steering wheel. Cathy would sure as hell love being thought of as a prize, wouldn’t she?
That woman has turned you inside out and tied you into knots.
But he couldn’t blame her. It wasn’t her fault. Some people just had an undeniable chemistry that made it difficult for them to keep their hands off each other. It had been that way for Cathy and him seventeen years ago. It was still like that for the two of them.
Jack inserted the key into the ignition, started his Corvette and headed toward Huntsville. It was Friday night, and the bars would be open well into the morning.
The house was deadly quiet as she slipped out of her bedroom at eleven-thirty. No one would miss her. Even if her bed was empty, it would be assumed that she was outside in the gazebo where she often went at night when she couldn’t sleep. No one bothered her there while she sat alone in the darkness. It was her only refuge on earth.
The doctors had given her a prescription for non—habit-forming sleeping pills, and for a while she had pretended to take them. Finally, she had admitted that she didn’t want to take drugs. Her body was a temple, not to be abused or defiled.
“Know ye not that your body is the temple of the Holy Ghost which is in you, which ye have of God, and ye are not your own. For ye are bought with a price: therefore glorify God in your body, and in your spirit, which are God’s.”
She knew her Scriptures, had learned chapter and verse from her earliest childhood. God’s holy words about the sanctity of the body were found in I Corinthians 6:19–20.
Drugs were of the devil.
The devil lived in and worked through human beings, even those who professed to be His prophets and teachers of His divine word. God despised wickedness. He punished those who