and readied it to dial her boyfriend. He told her what to say.”
“What?”
“Kenny told her to call and tell Jonas to come right back home. That she was scared because someone had broken into the house and she could hear him downstairs.”
“And she did it?”
“Yes, Alex. With the point of the knife held tight against her breast, she made the call. Then Kenny got on top of her again, untied her hand. Asked her how long before her boyfriend could get there from the factory. She told him eight, maybe ten minutes.
“That’s when Kenny told her his plan. That he’d be making love to Chat—‘making love’ is what he called it—when her boyfriend returned to the house. And when the guy came after him—or her—he’d stab both of them to death. No point either of them being happy when he couldn’t be. He tortured her for those eight minutes, telling her how he was going to make her die, slowly and painfully, after watching him slice Jonas into little pieces.”
“So Chat knew she was walking her boyfriend right into a death trap,” I said.
“Yes, she did. And she also knew that once again, people in town would accuse her of being the bad girl, the one who was always looking for trouble.”
“Understood.”
“Chat could hear the door open, then Jonas pounding up the steps three at a time, calling out her name. Kenny rolled onto his side and gripped the knife tight in his hand, telling my sister to smile her best smile. That’s when Chat reached down, under the bed.”
I could see the murder charge steamrolling down Interstate 70, headed straight for Chastity Grant.
“I’m not supposed to like this part of the story. It’s not very Christian of me, but I don’t mind telling you that it’s all just fine,” Faith said. “Chat’s been on the receiving end of bad business for way too long.”
“We understand that.”
“Jonas kept a gun on the floor, in a box beneath the bed. Locked and loaded, like they say back home. Chat picked it up—she’d been around guns all her life—and the minute Kenny pressed the knife back into her side and started to rape her again, my sister fired the gun.”
“Where?”
“No chance for a miss, Alex. One shot, right against Kenny Trimble’s ear.”
I was silent, steadying Faith’s trembling hand with my own.
“And she got cuffed for that?” Mike asked.
“Arrested, indicted, and tried for murder. Even Jonas turned on her. He couldn’t fathom why she hadn’t resisted, and why she was willing to drag him into her old feud with Kenny.”
“Willing? Resist a man who’s beaten you up before and now has at you with a butcher knife in your ribs?”
“People don’t really understand the crime of rape, do they?”
“No,” I said. “Most people don’t get it at all. Especially when it comes to an estranged lover. If the same story happened with a stranger as the assailant, the whole town would have thrown a party for Chat.”
“Thank God—and I do mean that—the jury listened to her, believed her, and finally acquitted her of all the charges.”
Mike checked his cell. “That’s why Peterson’s not coming up with any mug shots of her.”
“No, you won’t find those arrest photos. I hired a good lawyer for her. The entire record’s been expunged. It’s her only chance to start clean.”
“I hope she’s still packing heat right now, Faith,” Mike said, trying to add some good cheer to a dark situation. “Make my day if she gets our perp for us.”
“Then I’m sorry I’ve been such a good influence on Chat. All she packs now is a pocket-size copy of the Bible. Can that stop a madman?” Faith said, her spirits clearly flagging.
“You know better than I do. I’m sure you’ve saved your share of wretches like me—or worse. Just takes amazing Faith.”
“Grace,” she said softly as he drew a reluctant smile from her.
“My money’s on Faith. You stay strong for us today, you hear me?”
Her eyes locked on Mike’s handsome face, falsely reading in it a promise of some sort of hope from his fortitude and energy.
“I’ll do anything you tell me to do. You just find Chat.”
“Have you got a recent photo?” I asked. “Something more current than that newspaper picture with Ursula and Naomi that we can get out to the public?”
“Yes, of course. Right here on my computer,” she said, turning to her files to open a series of shots of Chat in the courtyard of the seminary. “I just sent them to my