as she maneuvered the drive to the Baptist church. Night had set in, stars glittering above the lawn, which was dotted with white tents.
The parking lot was packed with cars, and a sign welcomed people of all walks to the Tent Revival. Two tables selling homemade baked goods for the youth group sat in front, manned by teenagers passing out fliers about an upcoming mission trip to Honduras.
As she climbed from her Jeep, old-time gospel singing echoed from the large tent, drowning out sounds of the cicadas and crickets. Growing up, she’d attended revivals with her parents and always felt uncomfortable, as if the preacher’s sermon and Bible thumping were directed at her. The born-again preachers used to rove the aisles, preaching hellfire and damnation, eyes boring into her as if to call her a sinner and suggest she should throw herself on the altar for mercy. Even from the parking lot, she spotted parishioners waving hands in the air and shouting their “Amens” as the reverend began to suck wind.
According to the sign, the revival had started an hour ago, and judging from the enthusiasm, emotions were building. The killer would not have come near this place, not with this many people around.
Still, she decided to look around the property. A graveyard bathed in darkness occupied one side of the property, artificial flowers waving back and forth in the wind. She headed in that direction, veering away from the revival and the holy rollers who’d begun crying and speaking in tongues.
Just as she reached the gate to the cemetery, her phone buzzed. Dread tightened her stomach as she answered. “Cord?”
“I got your message about another victim.”
“I’m at the Church of Grace now,” Ellie said.
“She’s not there,” Cord said.
Ellie stilled, her gaze skipping over names carved on tombstones with dates going back to the early 1900s. “How do you know?”
“Because I found her.”
Twenty-Two
Ole Glory Church
Perspiration beaded on Ellie’s skin as she pulled down the graveled road to the old-as-dirt chapel at the edge of Red River, named so because at dusk the water shimmered with red streaks. Some attributed the color to the Georgia red clay soil although others professed it was blood shed by Jesus. The ways of the church dated back centuries, with rumors that snake handling and exorcisms abounded in the parish. The men were heads of the households and in total control, while the women were not allowed to wear pants or makeup, subservient to their husbands.
The small white wooden building was nestled in the woods and known for its traditional baptisms. At the water’s edge, people gathered to sing hymns while the Southern Baptist preacher dunked lost souls beneath the icy water to cleanse their sins.
Cord’s truck was parked beneath a live oak. She’d called the captain on her way, and he was sending out Laney and the Evidence Response Team. Getting out with her flashlight, Ellie walked down the hill to meet him. For a moment, she was struck by the odd way he was stooped beside the body, staring at the woman.
Cord knew better than to disturb a crime scene, but there was something strange about the intense look on his face and his breathing, which sounded erratic.
The whoosh of the water rushing over the jagged river rocks blended with the whistle of the wind. Slowly, she approached, her boots skidding on the damp ground as she went down the hill. Algae and stonewort crept along the riverbank and she knew from fishing with her father that trout, bass and carp swam below the surface. At the thought of her father, her stomach churned.
Moonlight glowed through the tree branches, shimmering along the water and illuminating the wildflowers covering the ground.
“Cord?”
As if he’d been lost somewhere in his mind, he startled and turned his head towards her.
A haunted look darkened his eyes, and he stood, jamming his hands inside his jeans pockets, and slowly backed away from the body.
The image of the crime scene soaked into Ellie’s subconscious. “Are you okay?”
Cord glanced back down at the woman, his jaw clenched, then gave a little nod. “When you called and talked about churches, I… thought about this place.”
“Have you been here before?” Ellie asked.
His shoulders lifted in a shrug. “A couple of times.”
She didn’t see Cord as a church-going kind of guy. But then again, he never talked about his past. She knew he’d been in foster care. Maybe one of those families brought him here.
“I didn’t touch her,” Cord said, as if he suddenly