Silent Killer Page 0,96
as any man on my force,” Mike corrected him. “I don’t kid myself about my people or myself. We’re a group of honest, down-to-earth country folks who seldom have to deal with murders and certainly not serial killers.”
Jack shrugged. Mike was right. It wasn’t as if anyone on his team had ever dealt with a serial killer. And only the ABI guys were actually trained, at least to a certain extent, to deal with this type of crime.
“Reverend Kelley’s death is bound to be on the local early morning news,” Jack said. “Don’t you think somebody should contact the families of the previous victims?”
“Do you want to contact Cathy and tell her?”
“Yeah, I do. This is going to hit her hard. She managed to hold it together when the Catholic priest was murdered, but…Maybe we should call Lorie and have her go over to Cathy’s.”
“Sure. As soon as we get on the road, go ahead and call Lorie.” Mike pulled keys from his pocket and headed for the exit. Jack followed. “Ask her to contact Cathy and then inform Cathy’s in-laws.”
Once settled in Mike’s SUV and en route, Jack checked the stored numbers in his cell phone. But before he could dial the first number, Mike asked him a pointed question.
“Where were you when I called?”
“Some dive called the Purple Mustang in Huntsville.”
“Please tell me you didn’t drive here under the influence.”
“I had two beers,” Jack said. “It would take more than a six-pack for me to feel the effects.” When Mike gave him a skeptical glance, Jack added, “Believe me. I’ve built up a tolerance over the years. I know when I’ve had my limit.”
“What were you doing at the Purple Mustang—trying to drown your sorrows?”
“Something like that.”
“Looking for a little TLC?”
“Yeah, why not?”
“Did you find any?”
“What is this, the frigging third degree? You’re not my father, and I’m not some disobedient kid who needs reprimanding.”
“Call Lorie,” Mike said, letting the matter drop.
Jack brought up her number on his phone, hit SEND and waited for her to answer. Considering that it was close to three in the morning, he was surprised she picked up the phone after the second ring.
“Jack?” she asked in a sleep-hoarse voice.
“Yeah, it’s me. Sorry to wake you, but I need you to go over to Cathy’s as soon as you can.”
“What’s happened?”
“Our Fire and Brimstone Killer has struck again, this time in Decatur. The victim is a Presbyterian minister named Kelley, and for now he’s still alive.”
“Oh God! Can he ID his attacker?”
“He’s unconscious, and that’s all I can say.”
“Yeah, sure. I understand. Are you calling Cathy or do you want me to tell—?”
“I’ll call her,” Jack said. “But you get your cute little butt over there ASAP. She’s going to need you. And call her in-laws later, before the news hits the airwaves.”
“Okay. I’ll handle calling the Cantrells. And I’ll take care of Cathy.”
“Thanks.”
“Jack?”
“Huh?”
“I know you’re going to be busy with the task force, but…Cathy might need you. She might—”
“If she needs anything from me, just call.”
“I will.”
As soon as he finished his conversation with Lorie, he phoned Cathy. God, how he wished he was back in Dunmore so he could be there to comfort her when he gave her the bad news.
The jarring ring of the telephone on the bedside table brought Cathy out of a deep sleep. Reaching from beneath the sheet and light blanket covering her, she grabbed the phone but somehow managed to knock the base off and onto the floor. As she hit the TALK button on the portable handset, she didn’t even bother looking at caller ID. Instead, she glanced at the digital alarm clock. Who would be calling at 2:56 in the morning? If it wasn’t a wrong number, it had to be an emergency.
“Hello.”
“Cathy, this is Jack Perdue.”
She shot straight up in bed. “Jack? What’s wrong?”
“Listen to me,” he said in a consoling voice. “Lorie’s on her way there as we speak, so you won’t be alone.”
“I’m not alone. Seth’s here. He’s spending the weekend.” Whatever it was, it had to be bad if he’d called Lorie first. “Just tell me, please.” But she knew. Oh God, she knew.
“The Fire and Brimstone Killer has struck again.”
Cathy swallowed hard. “Who?”
“A Reverend Kelley, from Decatur. It happened just a few hours ago.”
“Bruce Kelley?”
“Yeah, that’s the name. Why, do you know him?”
“I’m acquainted with the family,” Cathy said. “One of his daughters is the director of Bright Side, a school and help center for the mentally challenged. It’s