“You know her?”
Lynne nodded. “She was a few years younger than me in school.”
“Was she friends with Randi Decker?”
“I don’t know about friends, but she works at the florist shop. I remember her delivering a bouquet of roses to the clinic a couple of months ago.”
His eyes narrowed. “From Nash?”
Lynne made a sound of disgust. “Not hardly. He was too cheap for roses,” she said. In fact, the only gift Nash had ever given her had been a teddy bear he’d won at a local fair. “My dad sent them for my birthday.”
“You like roses?”
“I like the thought my dad remembered it was my birthday.”
He studied her with a speculative gaze before turning his head to regard the woman who had almost reached the van. “I want to talk to her.”
“Why?”
“First I want to know what she’s doing at this church.”
Lynne furrowed her brow. It didn’t seem that odd to Lynne, but Kir was determined to suspect that there was something sketchy about the pastor. “What else?”
“I want to know if Randi mentioned being followed or harassed by anyone,” he said without hesitation. “The killer obviously likes playing games.”
“Games?”
“He sent my father letters. He left you a photo. It seems possible he might have taunted the women before killing them.”
With a nod, Lynne switched off the engine and unhooked her seat belt. “I’ll ask her.”
His brows snapped together. “I can do it.”
“She’s not going to talk to you.”
“Why not?”
Lynne grabbed the door handle, glancing in the rear-view mirror to make sure there wasn’t any traffic. “You might have been born in Pike, but you haven’t lived here in a very long time,” she reminded him. “You’re a stranger to Jillian. She’s not going to gossip about her dead friend with you.”
He heaved a harsh sigh, shoving open his own door. “You’re right. You talk to her and I’ll have a look around.”
They both climbed out of the truck. Waiting for Kir to join her in the middle of the street, she sent him a stern frown. “Stay out of trouble,” she commanded. “You’ve already been thrown out of the charity shop. Do you want to get banned from a church?”
He flashed an unrepentant smile. “If it leads me to the truth.”
She rolled her eyes, but she didn’t say anything as he headed toward the brick building. Instead she concentrated on reaching the parking lot without slipping on the ice. The snow was floating down in the soft, fluffy flakes that always looked so pretty on television, but clung to her skin with icy persistence. The sensation warned Lynne that the younger woman wasn’t going to be eager to stand in the cold and chitchat. She needed to get directly to the point if she hoped to get the information she wanted.
“Hey, Jillian.” She stepped in front of the woman, who came to a startled halt.
“Lynne,” Jillian said in surprise, then she smiled. “Sorry, I suppose I should call you Dr. Gale.”
“Lynne is fine.”
Jillian nodded, glancing over her shoulder. “Do you go to church here?”
“No, I happened to see you when I was driving past and I wanted to make sure you’re okay,” Lynne said.
Jillian glanced back in surprise. “Me?”
“I know you worked with Randi. Her death must have been a terrible shock.”
“Oh, yes.” Beneath the chilled redness of Jillian’s cheeks, her skin paled. She appeared genuinely disturbed by her employer’s death. “Honestly, I couldn’t believe it when I got to work and the sheriff told me she’d been murdered.”
Lynne patted Jillian’s arm in sympathy. “Do they know how it happened?”
Jillian’s lips trembled before she pressed them into a tight line. “I’m not sure. They refused to tell me anything, but I saw Randi’s car in the parking lot behind the shop. I have a terrible feeling she was there when . . .”
“When she was attacked?”
Jillian shivered. “Gives me the creeps just to go into the shop.”
Lynne squeezed Jillian’s arm, using the skills she’d developed over the years to put the woman at ease. Being a vet wasn’t just helping animals. It was connecting with the owners so they trusted her to do the very best for the pets they loved or the livestock that provided for their family.
“What a horrible thought,” she murmured. “Randi must have come in early to work and the monster was waiting for her.”
Jillian slowly shook her head. “No, I don’t think so.” She hesitated, as if debating whether to continue. At last she leaned forward, speaking low as cars started to pull into the parking lot. Obviously, it was getting close to time for the church service to begin. “I’m not supposed to be talking about it, but Randi’s husband told me Randi came home last evening at five just as she always did, but that after dinner she said she had to run back to the shop to arrange flowers for a funeral the next morning. She never came home.”
Lynne arched her brows. “Was that unusual?”
“We didn’t have any orders,” Jillian said. “In fact, we decided not to replenish our coolers because it was going to be a slow weekend.”
“She might have gotten the call for the order after she got home,” Lynne pointed out. It was a small town. It wouldn’t be unusual for someone to call a merchant at home, regardless of the day or time.
“If she did, she would have to wait until our vendor opened this morning to work on any arrangement,” Jillian insisted. “So why go that night?”
There was one obvious reason. Still, Lynne chose her words with care. She didn’t want Jillian bolting. “I know it’s awful to speak ill of the dead, but could she have been meeting someone at the shop?”
“You mean a client?”
“Or . . .” Lynne waited for an elderly couple to pass them on the way to the church. “A friend.”
“Oh.” Jillian blushed. “Not that I know of.”
“Sorry.” Lynne wrinkled her nose. “It’s just weird that she’d be out on such a cold night unless it was important.”
Jillian cleared her throat, looking like she was caught between good manners that insisted you didn’t gossip about the dead, and the fierce desire to share what she knew. “I suppose it’s possible she might have made plans to hook up with someone,” she finally conceded. “She’s been complaining lately how boring Ned is, and that she felt as if she was being buried alive.” She abruptly realized what she said, shoving her hands in the pockets of her coat. “God.”
“Was there anyone she was interested in?” Lynne quickly asked.
Jillian looked sick, obviously regretting mentioning Randi’s private complaints. “She’s never mentioned anyone. At least not to me. The sheriff took her laptop from the office, so there might be something on there.”
Lynne sent her a reassuring smile. If Randi had been cheating on her husband, she was convinced Jillian didn’t know. “Well, we all complain about our lives, don’t we,” she said in light tones. “That doesn’t mean anything.”
Jillian was instantly relieved. “No. And even if she was . . . indiscreet, I’m sure it wouldn’t have anything to do with what happened to her.”
Lynne wasn’t nearly so convinced, but she nodded in agreement. “True. It’s much more likely that whoever attacked her was a stranger.” She paused, not having to fake her sudden shiver. “Maybe someone who’s been creeping around the shop. Or following Randi.”
Jillian nodded. “That’s what I think.”
“Did you notice anyone?”
Jillian furrowed her brow as she tried to recall if there’d been any mysterious lurkers in the area. “No. No strangers.”
An unexpected pang of disappointment squeezed Lynne’s heart. It made her realize that a small, secret part of her was desperately clinging to the hope that the killer was an outsider who’d randomly chosen Pike to stalk his prey. Ridiculous, of course. Especiall
y after the picture that had been left on her shed.
With an effort, she forced herself to ask the most obvious question. “Randi was a beautiful woman who ran her own business. Did any of the locals hang around making a pest of themselves? Or expect extra attention?”
Jillian shook her head. “Most people call in their orders and we deliver them,” she told Lynne. She shrugged. “The only person we’ve had any problems with is Nash Cordon.”
“Nash?”
Jillian raised a gloved hand to her lips. “Oh, sorry. I forgot the two of you are a couple.”
Lynne shuddered. Her relationship with Nash seemed like a lifetime ago. “We haven’t been a couple for weeks,” she assured her companion. “What did he do?”
Jillian took a step closer as more parishioners funneled past them. In the distance the sound of someone picking out notes on an organ filtered through the frigid air.
“The VFW rent out their building for wedding receptions and banquets,” Jillian said. “That’s the bulk of our business so they gave us a key to the back door to make our deliveries without needing someone there to let us in. But half the time we can’t get through because Nash parks his truck in the alley. Randi finally called the city council to complain. I don’t think he was very happy when he found out.”
“Yeah, I can imagine.” Lynne shook her head in disgust, all too familiar with Nash’s belief that the world was created to make his life easier. At the same time, she tucked away the knowledge that Nash had a reason to be angry with Randi.
The evidence was certainly building against him.
“Anyone else?” she pressed.
“I don’t think so.” Jillian glanced around as the organ warmed up and the choir joined in to spill music through the open doors of the church. “I should get going.”
Lynne held on to the woman’s arm. She wasn’t done with her questions. “Are you working this morning?”
Jillian nodded. “Randi had a standing order with this church to deliver fresh flowers for the altar every Sunday morning.”
Lynne lifted a brow. Fresh flowers in the middle of winter seemed an extravagant cost for a tiny congregation. “Every Sunday?”
“Yep.” Jillian’s lips twisted. “Until now. The pastor just said he wanted to cancel the order.” She looked momentarily angered by the loss of business, then heaved a resigned sigh. “I guess I don’t blame him. I have no idea what’s going to happen to the shop now that Randi’s . . . gone.”
“Did you have to do the delivery every Sunday?”
Jillian waited for an elderly couple to shuffle past them before she answered. “Actually, I never did them.” She lowered her voice. “Randi said the good pastor insisted that she personally bring the flowers.”
Lynne swallowed a curse. Maybe Kir wasn’t so nuts to suspect both Nash and Pastor Bradshaw. “Why?”
Jillian shrugged. “He said he hoped to convince her to attend his church, but Randi assumed he had a thing for her. Of course, she thought every guy had a thing for her.” She halted, her eyes widening with distress. “Oh. That was a terrible thing to say.”
“None of us are saints, Jillian,” Lynne assured her, a genuine sincerity in her voice. She worked intimately with families in the community. None of them were as perfect as they wanted people to believe. “And it was no secret that Randi could be vain.”
“I guess,” Jillian conceded.
“Do you think Pastor Bradshaw wanted more than flowers from Randi?”
“He’s a guy even if he is a man of the cloth. And Randi knew how to turn on the charm when she wanted something.” There was an edge in her voice that suggested Jillian might have been jealous of Randi’s popularity. “That’s why she was such a good businesswoman.”
“Do you think they ever . . .”
Jillian shook her head in a sharp denial. “No way. Randi used to make fun of him all the time. She called him a dweeb.” The church doors closed with a loud snap, obviously indicating the service was starting. Jillian shook off Lynne’s hand. “Look, I really gotta go. My kids are home alone.”
“Be careful,” Lynne urged, watching as the woman climbed in her van.
She hated the sensation that the killer was a lurker in the shadows, stalking unsuspecting women. Like a guillotine hovering over the town of Pike, just waiting for the opportunity to execute the unwary.
Chapter 13
Madeline Randall woke, swallowing a scream as she realized she was still in the dark basement.
Or maybe it was hell, she grimly acknowledged.
When her mother had warned that she was going to end up in the fiery pits if she didn’t obey her commands, she’d imagined it would be filled with horned devils and putrid lava. Instead it was frigid darkness interrupted by brutal bouts of violence. She never knew when they were going to happen. She would drift off and awaken to a painful assault. For terrifying minutes she would huddle in a tight ball as the attack exploded through her.
It was never the same.
Sometimes there would be vicious kicks to her back. Other times her hair would be yanked out in bloody chunks. She’d been smacked by something that felt like a tire iron. And burned with a cigarette.
Every inch of her body had been tortured in one way or another. Her muscles ached, she had at least one broken rib, and she suspected she had internal injuries.
She wouldn’t last much longer.
Worse, she didn’t know whether to mourn or celebrate her impending death. It wasn’t like her life had been a bed of roses before she’d been entombed in the darkness.
But as if to taunt her morbid thoughts, Madeline heard the faint click that warned her tormentor was returning. That was her only warning. There was no flare of light from another room. No sound of approaching footsteps. Nothing but the click followed by hideous pain.
Madeline tensed, a sob lodged in her throat. There was no use screaming for help or pleading for mercy. She’d tried everything until her throat was raw from the effort.
A minute ticked past. Then another. Her shallow pants became louder as she waited. And waited. Christ. Tears poured down her frozen cheeks. The anticipation was nearly as bad as the actual blows.
At last the cramp in her lower back forced her to roll to the side. She strained to hear the sound of her captor.
There was nothing.
Could he—or she—stay that quiet for so long? It seemed unlikely. So what was happening?
The click was the sound of the door opening. She was certain of that. So this had to be a trick, right? Just some new form of torture.
But what if it wasn’t? What if her captor had finally made a mistake?
With a groan, Madeline forced herself to her feet.
It didn’t matter if this was a trap or not.
She’d spent her entire life making the safe choice and what had it gotten her? Squashed dreams and bitter regret.
For once she was going to take a chance.
Stumbling forward she kept her arms outstretched as she blindly searched for the door.
* * *
Kir sat in the passenger seat of Lynne’s truck, his gaze absently studying the church as he allowed the warmth from the heater to drive away the chill from his body.
He’d spent the past twenty minutes creeping around the church grounds. He hadn’t really known what he was looking for until he’d noticed the small house at the back of the property. It had to be the parsonage where Pastor Bradshaw lived.
He wanted to see inside, but he wasn’t willing to risk being spotted. Not when there were dozens of people wandering around the parking lot and church.
“What are you plotting?”
Lynne’s question interrupted his absent musings of how he could reach the house without alerting any nosy neighbors.
He glanced toward her with what he hoped was an innocent expression. “What makes you think I’m plotting anything?”
“I expected you to charge into the church and accuse Pastor Bradshaw of lying to you.
”
It was exactly what he’d wanted to do after Lynne had repeated her conversation with Jillian. In fact, he’d even taken a step toward the church before he’d come to his senses. “The man was preparing to deliver his sermon in the house of God. I’m not a heathen,” he told Lynne in pious tones.
She narrowed her eyes. “Like I said. What are you plotting?”
He chuckled. “I’ll admit my first instinct was to confront the pastor.”
“But?”
“There has to be a reason he pretended he barely knew Randi Decker.”
She paused, as if considering the possibilities. “Maybe because he felt you were hounding him. Or maybe he was embarrassed to admit he had a crush on a married woman.”
“Or maybe he was obsessed with her.”
Her jaw tightened, but she didn’t argue. Even she couldn’t deny there was something sketchy about Pastor Bradshaw.
“So when are you going to ask him?”
“I’m not ready to let him know I’ve discovered he lied to me. Not until I’ve had a chance to nose around.”
“You’re going to spy on him?”
He clicked his tongue. “‘Spy’ is such an ugly word.”
“That’s not an answer.”
He shrugged, not bothered by her accusing gaze as he pointed toward the end of the street. “Drive around to the back of the church.”
“Why?”
“I’d like to know more about Pastor Bradshaw and his habits.”
Heaving a sigh, she put the truck into drive and slowly drove around the block. “You’re going to get yourself arrested,” she complained. “Or shot.”
“Drop me out here.” He wasn’t worried about being arrested or shot since he didn’t intend to get caught.
She pulled over, her expression concerned. “Kir.”
“I’m not going to do anything stupid, I just want to poke around,” he promised, jumping out of the truck. He glanced at her before he shut the door. “Are you going home?”
“First I’m going by the animal sanctuary.”
Don't Look Page 13
