www.MinotaurBooks.com
The premier website
for the best in crime fiction.
Log on and learn more about:
The Labyrinth: Sign up for this monthly newsletter and get your crime fiction fix. Commentary, author Q&A, hot new titles, and giveaways.
MomentsInCrime: It’s no mystery what our authors are thinking. Each week, a new author blogs about their upcoming projects, special events, and more. Log on today to talk to your favorite authors. www.MomentsInCrime.com
GetCozy: The ultimate cozy connection. Find your favorite cozy mystery, grab a reading group guide, sign up for monthly giveaways, and more. www.GetCozyOnline.com
www.minotaurbooks.com
Cooper woke abruptly, her body trembling with dread. Even in the comfort of the morning light, she could still smell the scent of rain. And when she stood in the shower and closed her eyes, she could see the black horizon and the tongues of lightning, waiting for her imminent arrival.
Placing the last cup on a drying rack, Cooper exhaled, trying to calm the drumming of her heart as she recalled the feelings of fear instigated by her dream.
“Lord, are you trying to tell me to prepare for a difficult time?” she asked into the silence of the kitchen. “Tell me please, so I won’t be taken by surprise.”
She stared at the last drips of water as they slipped into the drain and then shut her eyes. Alone in the stillness of the small room, Cooper strained to listen. An answer came then, as though whispered into her inner ear. Prepare yourself. Hardship is coming. . . .
Hope Street Church Mystery Titles by
JENNIFER STANLEY
Stirring Up Strife
Path of the Wicked
The Way of the Guilty
(coming in September)
Available from St. Martin’s / Minotaur Paperbacks
PATH OF THE
WICKED
Jennifer Stanley
St. Martin’s Paperbacks
NOTE: If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher, and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”
For Grandma, who passed on while I was writing this book.
Her faith in me never wavered.
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
PATH OF THE WICKED
Copyright © 2010 by Jennifer Stanley.
Excerpt from The Way of the Guilty copyright © 2010 by Jennifer Stanley.
All rights reserved.
For information address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010.
ISBN: 978-0-312-37683-3
Printed in the United States of America
St. Martin’s Paperbacks edition / May 2010
St. Martin’s Paperbacks are published by St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010.
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
Contents
Cover Page
Title Page
Copyright Page
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Magnolia’s Marvels
The author would like to thank the fine men and women of the Henrico County Sheriff’s Office, especially Dawn Watson-Browning for answering questions and directing me to the correct personnel and Major Carlos Talley for giving me a fascinating and informative tour of Jail West. It has been one of the highlights of my writing career.
Do not set foot on the path of the wicked or walk in the way of evil men.
Avoid it, do not travel on it; turn from it and go on your way.
For they cannot sleep till they do evil; they are robbed of slumber till they make someone fall.
They eat the bread of wickedness and drink the wine of violence.
Proverbs 4:14–17 (NIV)
1
In the month of Nisan in the twentieth year of King Artaxerxes, when wine was brought for him, I took the wine and gave it to the king. I had not been sad in his presence before; so the king asked me, “Why does your face look so sad when you are not ill? This can be nothing but sadness of heart.”
Nehemiah 2:1-2 (NIV)
Cooper Lee was not having a good day. She had spent the morning at an elementary school in the Far West End, trying to coax their aged copier, a Toshiba e-Studio28, back to life. But the machine had given its all and no amount of replacement parts, duct tape, or prayers were going to keep it running.
Kneeling on the floor next to her toolbox, a soiled rag, and the copier’s rectangular back panel, Cooper examined the dirty developer tray. In removing the part, her hands and forearms had gotten covered in toner. As she worked, she’d rubbed her face in vexation, knowing that it would be impossible to resuscitate the spent machine.
Unaware of the splotches of gray and black ink on her cheeks and nose, Cooper sighed. She knew that the school didn’t have the funds in their budget to purchase a new copier, and they’d desperately need one soon as summer break was ticking to an end.
“Hey!” a voice nearby whispered. Cooper looked up to see a girl dressed in a Hannah Montana T-shirt and white shorts standing over her.
“Hi.” She smiled. “Aren’t you supposed to be on vacation?”
“My mom works here,” the girl replied. “I had to help her carry stuff into her office.” She continued to study Cooper’s face with interest. “You look like you have the boooooobonic plague. I learned all about that for my summer reading assignment.” She crossed her arms across her flat chest and peered at Cooper intently. “Are those black boils?”
Cooper laughed. “No, I do not have the bubonic plague. I probably smeared some ink from the copier on my face. Happens all the time.”
The girl frowned. “Gross. I don’t want a dirty job when I grow up. I’m going to be a famous singer and I’ll live in a huge house, get driven around in a super-big limo, and own, like, twenty horses.” She stretched out her skinny arms to emphasize her point. “Then my mommy can quit her job. She’s the school nurse and I think what she does is gross, too!” The girl lowered her voice to an awed whisper. “She gives people shots! With needles!”
Examining her reflection in the shiny surface of an adjustable steel wrench, Cooper grinned and began to wipe away the ink on her face using a clean rag. “Well, I’m happiest when I’m getting messy. My hands are usually covered in ink, garden soil, or cookie dough.”
“You’re weird,” the girl whispered and then looked back over her shoulder as though her mother might be close enough to overhear her rude remark. “But you’re still pretty,” she amended and then skipped away.
Cooper replaced the back panel of the defunct machine, taking her time turning the screws. This was the only part of her job at Make It Work!, an office-machine sales and repair company operating out of Richmond, Virginia, that Cooper disliked. She hated telling nice people, like the secretary in the front office, that she had been unable to fulfill their expectations and could not repair their machine.
Dusting off her uniform shirt, Cooper snapped her toolbox closed and stood. She patted the lid of the copier. “You’ve given them your best. Time for you to retire to the greener pas
tures of the recycling facility.”
Gathering her tools, Cooper steeled herself and walked down the hall to the front office. The secretary took one look at her doleful expression and said, “Oh, dear. You don’t look like you’ve got happy news for me.”
“No, ma’am, I’m afraid I don’t.”
The secretary paused for a moment, unable to keep herself from staring at the repairwoman’s unusual eyes. The left eye was blue, but such a pale shade of blue that it was almost colorless. The right eye, however, was star-tlingly green. It immediately called to mind a meadow of emerald grass in the peak of spring, dappled by sunlight and bright circles of marigolds. The woman’s face was quite lovely, though her nose was a bit too long and angular and her dirty-blonde hair, which was cut in a flattering style, could do with some highlights. The secretary took in Cooper’s athletic figure with a prick of envy.
She could use a bit of makeup, the secretary thought and then blinked, embarrassed at having stared at the repairwoman so blatantly.
“Oh, my.” The secretary shook her head slightly as the enormity of Cooper’s prognosis sank in. “Are you sure you can’t fix our copier? We really need to get a few more months out of that machine.”
“It’s totally gone, ma’am. I would have been lucky to get you two or three more minutes, let alone months. It’s got nothing left to give.”
The secretary nodded, unsurprised by the revelation. “I know you did your best. You always do and we appreciate the extra time you’ve given us by keeping that ’ole dinosaur runnin’ on a wing and a prayer.” She rose and, signing Cooper’s work order, walked her to the front door.
“It’s going to take more than a bake sale to raise funds for a new copier.” The secretary’s expression was bleak. “And with school starting in two weeks, I don’t know what we’re going to do.” She wrung her hands anxiously.
“The way I see it—you’ve got two choices. You can soak a mess of cakes in a barrel of rum and hope that the folks who show up for your bake sale write you checks with a whole lot of zeroes. Or,” Cooper smiled wryly, “you could lease one of our machines until you raise the money for a new one.”
The secretary brightened. “A lease?” She paused to consider the idea. “I’m fond of the rum cake plan, too, but a lease just might get us through the crisis. Thank you, Ms. Lee. You’re an angel! Please call me with the rates as soon as you’re able. We need a copier in here as of yesterday.” Then her face grew solemn and she lowered her voice. “And you’ll take away the old one for us?”
Cooper nodded to the older woman, said she’d call back later with leasing options, and hopped into a black van with the Make It Work! logo splashed across both sides in bright red lettering. As she drove back to the office, she remembered that the new employee Mr. Farmer had hired to handle the document-shredding side of the business would be at work today. Initially, Mr. Farmer had filled the need by having the son of his widowed next-door neighbor work over the summer, but the young man was returning to college for the fall, so Cooper’s boss had placed an ad in the Richmond Times-Dispatch ten days ago. However, he’d ended up hiring a cousin recently relocated from northern New Jersey. As a result, no one had met the mysterious new addition to their team, and all three of Mr. Farmer’s staff members were curious to discover what kind of person would become their coworker.
“Thank goodness he didn’t hire some pageant princess,” Angela said, giggling as she told Cooper about meeting the new employee while Cooper was at the elementary school.
Angela, the office manager at Make It Work!, wore a typically tight pencil skirt, a low-cut blouse, and an armload of vintage bangles. As Cooper looked at Angela’s platinum-blonde bob, held firmly in place by a wide pink headband and half a can of Aqua Net, she noticed the presence of a beauty mark on Angela’s cheek that had never been there before.
“I’m not sure there are too many pageant princess interested in a career in document shredding,” Cooper said. Tapping her own cheek with her index finger, she teased Angela. “You’re really channeling Marilyn Monroe today, huh?”
Angela batted her false eyelashes as she examined her reflection in a compact that was never far from reach. “I wanna see if Mr. Farmer notices.” She leaned over her desk and whispered, “And if he doesn’t, then I sure hope that gorgeous creature gettin’ dressed in one of our uniform shirts does.” Her eyes gleamed.
“So tell me about the new guy.” Cooper leaned comfortably against Angela’s desk. “I can see you’re fit to burst over him.”
Angela placed her hands over her ample bosom. “Lord, I don’t know what I did to deserve such tasty eye candy! This boy is a stud cocktail made up of one part soap opera star, one part professional baseball player, and three parts Chippendale dancer.” She frowned. “He’s a bit too young for me, unfortunately. You know you’re old when you wish you were forty again, but I can still look.” She wiggled her pencil-drawn eyebrows. “And if he asked me to dinner, I wouldn’t be in any hurry to say no.”
At that moment, Mr. Farmer stepped out of his office at the end of the hall. The owner/manager of Make It Work! was a short, stocky, balding man resembling the actor Danny DeVito. A quiet, reserved individual, he was a kind and generous employer. Angela had been flirting with him for years, and though he occasionally displayed a hint of fondness for her in return, he had never officially asked her out on a date.
“Good morning, Cooper.” Mr. Farmer straightened his tie, which was embroidered with cobalt computer monitors on a field of yellow. “Our new employee is in the locker room. His name is Emilio Calabria and word has it that this young fellow is an exemplary salesman. He’s sure to increase our burgeoning secure document-destruction division. Ben will be showing him the ropes over the next few days.” He smiled shyly at Angela. “Let’s all go out of our way to make him feel at home.”
“Oh, I’ll make him feel real welcome, sir.” Angela saluted their boss, her cherry-red nails brushing her powdered forehead.
“Ah, yes . . .” Mr. Farmer shuffled his feet, looking slightly daunted by Angela’s enthusiasm. Hearing footsteps approaching from down the hall, he turned and held out his hand. “And here he is now. Emilio, you’ve met the rest of our small staff except for Cooper Lee. Cooper, this is Emilio, the man who’ll soon be shredding paper all over town.”
The first thought that ran through Cooper’s mind was that Angela’s assessment of their new coworker was completely accurate. Emilio wasn’t tall, but his lean and muscular build gave him the appearance of height. His black hair fell in shiny waves that framed his olive skin and twinkling dark eyes. When he smiled at Cooper, flashing a row of square, white teeth and sensuous lips, she decided that his was a face meant for television and movie screens or the pages of GQ. His hands were wide and strong and as he crushed Cooper’s in a steely, wet grip, his smile turned to a snort.
“Lady, you’ve got some awesome eyes!” He laughed as they shook hands. “Man, I mean they are wicked cool. They remind me of that pretty blonde actress—she was in the Superman remake.”
“Kate Bosworth?” Angela guessed.
Emilio pointed at her. “Smart and classy.” He turned to Mr. Farmer. “I can see who runs this show.”
“And I can see why you’re such a good salesman. You’re just as smooth as a stick of butter brought to room temperature.” Angela batted her false eyelashes. “I’d never have taken you for kin of Mr. Farmer’s. Just how are you related again?”
“Emilio’s my aunt’s boy,” Mr. Farmer answered, clearly displeased over being so overshadowed by his cousin. “My own folks died when I was in my early twenties. Now all I’ve got left is my big sister and Aunt Mildred.”
“And me!” Emilio clapped his employer on the back with enough enthusiasm to jostle a few teeth loose. “You’re not gonna be sorry about bringin’ me aboard, boss. I’m gonna work my ass off and bring in so many new clients that you won’t know where to spend all your money!”
“I could think of a few ways t
o spend it,” Angela murmured coquettishly.
Emilio beamed at Mr. Farmer and then slung his arm around Cooper’s shoulders. In a conspiratorial fashion, he whispered, “This man hired me when I was down on my luck. Is he awesome or what?”
“Best boss I’ve ever had,” Cooper replied, inhaling Emilio’s powerful cologne.
She extricated herself from her hunky coworker’s semi-embrace and feigned the need to grab a tissue from Angela’s desk. As Cooper pulled a few from the floral box, she noticed the secretary was gazing at Emilio with adoration. Mr. Farmer also seemed to have taken note of Angela’s demeanor, for he hurriedly took Emilio by the elbow and offered to accompany him to where Ben waited in the garage.
“Catch you beautiful ladies later!” Emilio said in his thick, Jersey accent and strutted off.
Angela watched the men walk away. “Ain’t he some-thin’?” She panted, fanning herself with a brochure from an ink cartridge and toner company.
Cooper shrugged. “Yeah, he’s something, all right.” She shouldered the woven straw bag she had recently purchased from Target and told Angela she’d be back in an hour.
“You meetin’ that nice boy from your Bible study for a steamy lunch date?” Angela puckered her lips.
Cooper’s neck grew pink. She put a hand over the telltale flesh and shook her head. “No, he’s been real busy lately. And like I told you last week, I’m not sure if we’re dating. We’ve only been out together a few times.”
Angela waved her off. “You’ve kissed, honey. On the lips. More than once. So if that ain’t datin’, then you’re the friendliest friends I’ve ever heard of!”
Cooper ordered a Happy Meal from McDonald’s and took hungry bites of her cheeseburger with extra pickles with one hand while manipulating the traffic around Short Pump Town Center. The mall was unexpectedly busy for a weekday, but then Cooper realized that the mothers disembarking from their SUVs and plush minivans were no doubt shopping for back-to-school supplies. As she parked her red pickup truck, which she had fondly dubbed Cherry-O, Cooper watched a pretty woman of about the same age press a button on her car key, causing both of her mini-van’s rear doors to slide open. Her two young children hopped inside, relieved to be out of the scorching August sun. Each child held onto a balloon from the shoe store and as the mother lifted her daughter into her booster seat and carefully tied her purple balloon to the armrest, the little girl threw her arms around her mother’s neck and covered her face with tender kisses. The mother laughed and kissed her daughter back on the bridge of her small nose. Witnessing this sweet exchange, Cooper felt a twinge of sadness stir in her heart.
Path of the Wicked Page 1
