by Liliana Hart
“Please, Lorna. And for our guests as well.”
She didn’t look quite as happy to see to that chore, but she nodded and slipped quietly out the door to head to the kitchen.
“Go on, Reverend,” Jack prompted.
“I tried to call,” he said. “Daniel took his cell phone with him in case I needed to contact him, and I called Tuesday morning after my hospital rounds to let him know that Mrs. Perry was in a bad way. Daniel had been seeing to her regularly, and I knew he’d want to know. There was no answer, so I left a message. Mrs. Perry passed on yesterday evening, so I called again and there was still no answer. I knew Daniel would have returned my call if he’d been able. That’s when I started to feel that something was wrong. I had Lorna go through the personnel files and get his father’s home number, and when I called, Mr. Oglesby answered the phone and said Daniel never came home. He was quite lucid at the time, and his nurse confirmed when I spoke to her as well.”
“Why didn’t they report it?” I asked.
The Reverend sighed. “The nurse wasn’t aware Daniel was supposed to make a visit, and his father had forgotten until I mentioned it on the phone. I happened to catch him on a fairly lucid day, so once I reminded him Daniel was supposed to be there it all came back to him. Unfortunately, he became quite upset and agitated once he knew Daniel was missing. His nurse had to give him a mild sedative.”
Lorna came back in with a tea tray, and we all watched as she set it on the Reverend’s desk and prepared to pour.
“What about his personal life?” Jack asked. “Was he engaged? Did he date? Was there anyone special in his life?”
If I hadn’t been watching Lorna so closely, I’d never have noticed her bobble the teacup before she set it in front of Reverend Thomas.
“Thank you, Lorna,” the Reverend said, taking a quick sip before answering. “No, Daniel didn’t have any outside relationships that I was aware of. He was devoted to the church.”
“What about you, Lorna?” Jack asked. “Do you know if Reverend Oglesby had any close personal friends in the area?”
Lorna sat back down in the chair she’d vacated earlier and went through the same ritual of pleating the front of her dress before crossing her ankles.
“Like I said before, it wasn’t my business to pay attention to things like that. The only time I ever saw him was here at the church. He lived over in King George Proper instead of Bloody Mary, so he did most of his errands there. I don’t know why he chose to live so far away from the church, but he did. Maybe he didn’t want anyone knowing what he was up to in his off time. It’s suspicious behavior in my opinion.”
My eyebrows rose almost to my hairline at her presumption. For someone who spurned the sins of gossip, she sure didn’t mind dishing it out.
“Now, Lorna,” the Reverend admonished. “Let’s not make something out of nothing. Reverend Oglesby lived in King George because there wasn’t anything available for lease here in Bloody Mary at the time. He was going to finish out his lease on the little house he was renting over in King George, and then he was planning to move into the old Tompkins place down the street since it’s gone on the market. I believe he’d already made the down payment.”
Lorna pursed her lips in disapproval and Jack closed his little notebook and got to his feet. “That’ll be all for now, Reverend.”
Jack looked at me and held out a hand to help me stand. I put my hand in his without thinking. I was a little dazed, and I wondered briefly if I might have dozed off at some point. I’d run past the point of exhaustion a long time ago.
“How soon will the body be available for burial?” Reverend Thomas asked. “We’ll want to do it here at the church and bury him with the respect he deserves.”
I was very aware that Jack was still holding my hand, but I didn’t want to make a scene by pulling it away. Lorna’s eyes were glued to our attachment, no matter how innocent, and I knew she’d take every opportunity to make it more than it was.
“He’ll be ready tomorrow afternoon at the earliest,” I said. “I still have the autopsy to do. But I need a family member to sign for the body or for them to give proxy to you. We can talk about burial arrangements then.”
“I hope you’ll consider that we’re a poor church and can’t afford the price you’d normally charge for a burial. I’d hate to have to bury the Reverend with a pauper’s service.”
“I’m sure we can work something out,” I said through gritted teeth and what I hoped was a smile.
What he really wanted was for me to provide all the services and materials for free. Most people never thought further than what my services cost. They never took into account that I’d already paid for the coffin and would lose money there, or that I had to pay the men who dug the grave and lowered the body into the ground out of my own pocket. Not to mention I wouldn’t get paid a dime for preparing the body. I’m sure I could add selfishness to the other sins on my list, but a girl had to make a living.
“Very good then. We’ll see you some time tomorrow after I speak with his father. Daniel’s with the angels now. There’s peace in knowing that.”
I nodded and wished I could agree with him. I’d never had a fear about the afterlife until I’d found out what kind of people my parents really were. Not until I’d stood on the precipice between darkness and light myself. Now I just preferred not to think of a heaven or a hell. Eternal darkness suited me just fine. Maybe I could finally get some rest.
Chapter Seven
“What do you know about Lorna Dewberry?” Jack asked once we were back in the car.
We’d gone inside the church and stared at the framed picture of Reverend Oglesby that hung on the wall in the vestibule. It didn’t take me five seconds to know we’d found our victim. The age and shape of the face was right, and the tiny scar on his chin was a match.
“Probably not as much as you do. She’s third generation. Never married or had any local relationships that I can remember, but she’s a good bit older than we are so that’s not saying much.”
I turned Jack’s heater up to full blast and held my hands in front of the vents. I’d forgotten my gloves when we’d left the funeral home. I just couldn’t get warm, dammit.
“She was hiding something,” he said.
I froze with my hands in front of the heater and looked over to study his profile. His face was a mask of concentration, and I knew he was running scenarios through his head—discarding and rearranging the facts we’d gathered so far. His index finger tapped on the wheel to some unknown rhythm.
“I don’t know how you could tell anything with that stick shoved up her ass. You think she knows what happened to the Reverend?”
“I don’t know, but the longer we stayed and asked questions, the more nervous she got. It’s worth getting a background check on her.”
“You should just ask your mom,” I said. “She knows everything about everyone.”
I rubbed at my gritty eyes and wished I’d remembered my sunglasses along with the gloves. Sleep was creeping in on me no matter how hard I tried to fight it. Nothing good ever came with sleep, but I wouldn’t be able to fight it off forever.
“The last thing I want to do is bring my mother in on a police investigation. She’d be running the whole damned department by the time it was through.”
It was true. Mrs. Lawson was one of the most efficient women I’d ever known. When my parents had died, it had been she who’d knocked sense into as many people as she could intimidate to have them bring meals by the house and extend their condolences, even though most of them thought I was as guilty as they were. She’d been a second mother to me growing up, and really, if I was being honest, she’d been more of a mother than my own had been.
I sat up straighter in my seat when Jack turned left onto Queen Mary. The only road it intersected in that direction was Heresy—the street where my family home was located. I wasn’t ready to go back there yet.
“Relax,” Jack said. “I just need to sto
p by my place for a few minutes.”
“I’m fine.” My heart rate slowed back to a normal pace and my muscles relaxed against the seat as Jack turned right instead of left onto Heresy, so we were headed in the direction of his house.
Jack was one of the citizens of Bloody Mary who didn’t actually have to work for a living if he didn’t want to. Saying he was filthy rich would be an understatement. He came from a long line of tobacco farmers, and Jack had bucked tradition when he’d chosen to go into law enforcement instead of the family business. But his parents had supported him anyway, which was unusual in this neck of the woods—where family tradition and what was passed from one generation to the next was more important than making something of yourself on your own.
Jack’s house was the one place I’d always felt the most comfortable. It was a two-story log cabin that looked as if it had sprouted up from the forest of trees surrounding it. It was masculine, but not domineering. Grey stone chimneys jutted from each end, and a covered porch wrapped around the entire house. There weren’t many windows in the front, but I knew the entire backside of the house was nothing but floor to ceiling windows so the full view of the trees dropping away to the water could be seen. It was almost exactly the same view from my house.
“You want something to eat?” he asked as he pulled the cruiser into the driveway.
“I could eat a cookie or two if you’ve got some. I’ve missed your cookies.”
Something a lot of people didn’t know about Jack was that he could cook like an angel. He probably figured it was best to keep that secret under wraps, considering he already had women throwing themselves at his feet on a daily basis. I often thought it was unfair that Jack had been blessed with so many talents.
“I might have a few left in the cookie jar.” He grabbed the large manila envelope that held an assortment of information about the crime scene and tucked it under his arm as he unlocked the front door.
Warmth and the smell of that morning’s coffee greeted me, and I felt my bones ease inside my skin.
“I need to check in with Colburn, and then I want to do a written report and get all my thoughts down on paper while they’re fresh,” Jack said, flipping on lights as we headed back to the kitchen. “I’ll need to talk to the mayor. The whole town is going to be skittish after what happened last December.”
The inside of the house was done in rich wood tones and stone. The rooms were open and airy on the bottom floor, so one connected to the next in a big square. The kitchen and living area were at the back of the house, and I dropped down onto the oversized leather couch that flanked the fireplace and faced the back windows.
“Did you run me being back as coroner by the mayor and council?” I asked. “They might not be all that excited to have me back on the job. Especially considering death seems to follow me around. I wasn’t in town a minute before another body fell into my lap.”
“It just adds to your mysterious persona. Do you want some coffee?”
“Yeah, I could use a cup or ten.”
Somewhere between the scent of freshly brewed coffee and the hypnotic sway of the trees outside, my eyes managed to close and stay that way. When I woke up, it was still daylight and a dark blue throw covered me. I was also lying full out on the couch and my shoes were off. The good news was I’d slept like the dead. There’d been no dreams or memories, only the peaceful dark of sleep. I had Jack to thank for that. I felt safe with him.
My stomach growled as the scent of something spicy filled the air. I shrugged off the blanket and put my feet on the floor, running a hand absently through my disheveled hair. My eyes were clear and most of the fog had left my brain.
“Just stay where you are,” Jack said. “I’ll bring a tray in. When’s the last time you ate?”
“Does coffee count as one of the food groups?”
“Not to my knowledge.”
“I bought a bag of chips and a candy bar when I stopped at a gas station on my way back yesterday.”
“I keep thinking you’ll outgrow your adolescent eating habits at some point,” Jack said, bringing in a tray and setting it across my lap.
I settled back against the couch and stared at the giant bowl of spaghetti in front of me. I knew he’d made the sauce himself, and my mouth was watering so bad I was afraid I’d start drooling.
“Not that I don’t appreciate the meal, but I don’t need to be coddled,” I said, savoring the first bite. It had been so long since I’d had a good meal that my stomach protested. But it settled the more I ate, and suddenly I was ravenous. “I’m not fragile.”
“I never said you were,” he said, digging into his own bowl. “But when you come home with dark circles under your eyes big enough to get lost in and your clothes don’t fit because you’ve lost too much weight, then it’s obvious someone needs to step in. Lucky for you it’s me.”
“If I had more energy we’d have a fight right now.”
“I’ll look forward to it once you get your strength back.”
He polished off his food, and I was surprised to see my own fork scrape the bottom of my bowl. I shooed his hand away when he tried to take my dishes and carried them to the kitchen myself. I couldn’t cook worth a damn, but I knew how to load a dishwasher.
“Did you find out anything while I was asleep?” I asked.
Jack poured us both fresh cups of coffee and I joined him at the large butcher-block table that sat snugly in a nook and had benches on each side. Papers and photographs were scattered across the top, and I could tell he’d been busy while I’d been out.
“Yes, in the two hours you allowed your eyes to close, I gathered enough information to bring a suspect in for questioning and all but close the case.”
“I’m sensing sarcasm in that statement.”
“I always said you were smarter than the average mortician.”
“You’re a laugh a minute.” I smiled, but it faded as he stood there looking at me, his eyes serious as they stared into mine.
I braced myself for the panic to hit as Jack brought his hand up and slid it down the back of my hair, just like he’d done a thousand times before. But something was different this time. There was no fear of being touched or wondering how I’d get away—no walls closing in on me. But my stomach clenched and places low in my body overheated. My pulse thudded and my chest tightened as I held my breath, waiting for—something.
Energy crackled between us, and I froze where I stood, unsure of what to do or how to react. I knew how my body was reacting, but that was a completely different animal from what was going on in my brain. Before I could make the decision to take step back or move closer, Jack made it for me and went around to the other side of the table to slide onto the bench. The crackle dissipated as if it had never been, and I wondered if I was simply going crazy. It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility. There was certainly enough of it in my family tree.
“Officer Cheek came by and picked up the fingerprints I took of the vic. He called about a half hour ago and said we’ve got a match from the ones he got at Reverend Oglesby’s place. Daniel Oglesby is our victim.” Jack took a drink of coffee and pulled out the list he’d been making so I could see. “Lewis and Martinez are going through Oglesby’s background, looking for known acquaintances and conducting interviews. It’ll keep them busy for a while.”
I breathed out slowly and then took the bench across from Jack.
“I also checked in with Colburn. They’ve combed a mile radius from the crime scene, and so far they’ve found those beer cans and used condoms Colburn mentioned, but they also found some cigarette butts not too far from the body and a red bandana. It might or might not belong to our perps, but we’ll be able to sew them up with DNA if we can find them.”
“Busy morning,” I said. “It can’t be much after noon.”
“It’s almost three. You were really tired.”
I winced and ran my fingers through my disheveled hair. “I need to get back to the body soon. What els
e did they find?”
“Damn, woman. Was what I told you not enough?”
I rolled my eyes and finished my coffee.
“They spotted tire marks that led to the road on the opposite side of the park. I need to go check it out. Colburn says he found at least four sets of footprints, possibly more, but the dried leaves and brush make it difficult to tell, and the ground is dry right now.”
“I don’t understand this. Bloody Mary doesn’t have mafia ties. And this isn’t the work of kids. You’re telling me that we’ve got a group of killers in our town who go about their normal lives, and then all of a sudden they decide they’ll torture and kill a preacher and dump him in the woods?”
“That’s partially true.” Jack dug through his papers until he came up with a copy of the wax impression I’d taken of the brand on Reverend Oglesby’s hip. “But it’s not the mafia. This is a hate crime, pure and simple.”
My mind wasn’t computing what Jack was showing me. The symbol of the shield, sword and crowd wasn’t reminiscent of Richard the Lionheart after all. I looked closer at what Jack was showing me that I’d missed the first time. The cross guard of the sword, just below the hilt, was bent slightly in opposite directions. Similar to a swastika.
Jack placed an exact replica from an Internet article he’d printed beside the copy we’d taken from Oglesby’s body.
“Aryan Nation,” I said. “Shit.”
“Oh, yeah. It’s hard to think of things like this because society has evolved so much, but Virginia is still south of the Mason-Dixon line and this town is generational, as is most of the whole damned county. I’d heard whisperings of the Klan and other groups when I was a kid, but I didn’t pay much attention because nothing ever came of it to my knowledge.”
He pressed his finger and thumb against his eyes and turned away to look out the window.
“So what do we do?”
“The problem is that something like this isn’t going to be confined to Bloody Mary, or even King George County for that matter. I did a little research while you were asleep. The state of Virginia has one of the largest and most active chapters in the entire nation. Reverend Oglesby’s body was found in King George Proper, not Bloody Mary, but the road where they parked their vehicle and carried his body through the woods was in Bloody Mary. There’s no telling how many people are involved in this.”
