by Geri Krotow
“What do we have, Rio?” Bryce addressed a tall, quiet, dark-haired officer whose muscular build had to be the result of hours in the gym.
“Nothing yet, I’m afraid. I’m hoping the handwriting and maybe even the envelope lead us to something.”
“The envelope?” Zora knew they didn’t get prints with the initial dusting.
“The glue could have acquired a fiber, or a hair or skin cell.”
“Enough for DNA?”
“Probably not, but we can always hope.” Rio smiled and his white teeth dazzled against his honeyed skin. “I’ll check in with you if I find out any more.”
Rio Ortego left as silently as he had come into the farmhouse.
Zora turned to ask Bryce how long the tests would take when she looked over his shoulder and spotted a familiar figure walking up the driveway.
“Claudia.”
“Claudia?” Bryce turned in the direction Zora was looking. This was the second time Claudia had come to the farmhouse, something Zora suspected was unusual for the Trail Hikers’ CEO, whose every minute was scheduled.
It underscored the gravity of the case. Of the urgency the entire town felt.
Everyone wanted to keep Silver Valley as it’d always been. And they wanted to protect Christmas, too.
“I thought this would be more efficient than calling you separately.” Claudia nodded at both of them as she leaned down to stroke Butternut. The dog followed her mistress’s cues and never barked unless Zora indicated she was stressed about a visitor.
“Come in.” Zora motioned toward the hallway. “We’re working in the kitchen for the most part.” She led them back.
“Ma’am,” Bryce greeted her. Zora hid her smile. She knew that Claudia could be a bit intimidating until you got to know her better. Bryce was still a Trail Hikers newbie.
“Claudia, Bryce, it’s Claudia.”
“Yes, ma’am. Claudia.”
“Right. Well, I’ve got some news on the note.”
Bryce and Zora exchanged looks. The Trail Hikers was cutting edge. But to surpass the forensics team at their specialty?
If Claudia read their doubt, she didn’t reveal it.
“The note was written on what looks like a holiday notecard. Any florist would have them this time of year, right? But the florist shop owner, Kayla, doesn’t stock this particular design, and the killer called in the order. He never actually came into the shop.”
“The old-fashioned Santa Claus.” Zora had noted it when she pulled the card out of the envelope.
“Right. It’s circa 1954, in fact, and they sell them on eBay.”
“Do you think 1954 has any significance?”
“It could, if the killer used his own stationery—something he had lying around their house.”
“Or he could have ordered it off eBay to stay more anonymous.”
Zora didn’t think something as simple as a florist’s card was going to catch a killer, but her expertise didn’t lie with solving crimes. Her talents were in counseling—listening to her clients and helping them find their way through whatever was keeping them from living a full, satisfying life. Agreeing to join the Trail Hikers had been a natural fit with her military background but she knew she was far from a detective.
Claudia’s expression changed in a blink from analyst to team leader.
“You need to show up at the church tomorrow morning, Zora, prepared for a full workday. No one at the church knows you’re undercover. Bryce can come in and out, as your fiancé, whenever you need him.”
He’d never leave, she was certain. Bryce wasn’t someone to use words carelessly. When he told her he’d protect her, he meant it.
“I don’t know the first thing about being a minister, in truth. I’m learning as I go.”
“You don’t have to. Here.” Claudia handed her a thick legal-size envelope.
“Reverend Pearson wrote up a turnover at my request. Your complete schedule, along with what she usually does at each event, is included. All you have to do is show up, read some Bible verses and pray. Frankly, we’re going to need all the prayer we can garner with what we’re facing.” Claudia’s normally unruffled appearance was shot to hell. Her face was flushed, her hair mussed and her clothes wrinkled. She looked like...
“You’ve been up all night working this, haven’t you?” Zora’s guilt was an automatic reaction after years of pulling watch shifts and working late hours and weekends to get to the bottom of a navy intelligence case, or prepare a presentation. You didn’t leave a teammate in extremis, and that was how she felt she’d treated Claudia.
“It’s in my job description.” Claudia elegantly shrugged off Zora’s observation.
“Call me next time, ma—Claudia.”
“Thank you, Bryce, but you both have something more important in front of you. I trust the SVPD security detail will be here for the duration?”
“Yes. And about the church and Zora—Chaplain Hammermill, that is—I’d like to provide her with security. Won’t it seem odd if we don’t?”
“I’ve already taken care of it. We’ll have Trail Hikers posing as members of the church at each major service. All indications are that the killer will hit during a larger service like the children’s Christmas pageant or one of the Christmas services.”
The weight of her task settled like an unwanted mantle on Zora’s shoulders.
“He’s definitely escalating his tactics.” Zora thought of the minister who’d escaped with nothing but a scrape on her temple. Talk about a miracle.
“Yes, but he’s a bad shot. That’s one thing.” Bryce was matter-of-fact.
“That leads me to another bit of news.” Claudia leaned against the laminate kitchen counter and accepted the coffee Zora handed her. “Thanks.” She took a long sip as Zora and Bryce waited for her news.
“The ballistics on the bullet that you were hit with doesn’t match the weapon the killer’s used to date. You were shot with a handgun and the Female Preacher Killer has been using a hunting rifle.”
“Do you think we have two suspects?”
Claudia shook her head. “I don’t know. We can’t be certain on anything, I’m afraid. The killer could have several weapons he’s using.”
Zora looked at Claudia before she looked at Bryce again. Their faces were tense with concentration and...
Concern. For her.
“Hey, let it go, will you? I’m exactly who we need to bring the killer, or killers, out into the open. Either way, I’m going to be the best damned reverend Silver Valley has seen at Christmastime. And I have SVPD and the Trail Hikers behind me. It’s a win-win.”
Neither replied. Stand-up comedy had never been her forte.
Chapter 8
“Reverend Pearson left you her schedule for the next three months, although we hope she isn’t gone that long, of course.” Shirley Mae Noll, the Silver Valley Community Church office manager, motioned at the large, detailed desk calendar atop the wide desk in the pastor’s office.
“I have her turnover notes, so we should be good.” Zora tried not to grimace at how obviously Shirley Mae was pained by the absence of Pastor Pearson.
“Turnover notes?” A wrinkle appeared between Shirley Mae’s perfectly plucked brows and the shellacked nails of her right hand rested over her heart.
“Yes, it’s a navy expression. Um, my uncle was in the navy.” She’d almost blown her cover with one bit of slang.
“Oh, you scared me there for a second! I thought you meant something more permanent. Pastor Pearson is only gone for as long as it takes to make sure her mama’s doing okay. You know, it’s so strange. Her mother and aunt came to visit her just this summer and her mother looked so young and healthy. I would never have guessed she’d be faced with putting her in a home so soon.”
“Excuse me?” A pleasant-looking older man stood at the office door, a large bin on wheels behind him.
“Hi, Ernie! Go on in—I’m just showing our interim the ropes.”
The look on Ernie’s face was pained.
“Have you heard anything from Reverend Pearson? Is she okay?”
“She’s fine, thanks for asking. Her mama needed some tending and she’s taken a little time to help. Reverend Hammermill here is filling in for her, and helping us through Christmas. Pastor Hammermill, this is Ernie Casio, our custodian.”
“Hello, Ernie.” Zora held out her hand.
Ernie raised two gloved hands.
“Sorry, these gloves aren’t something you want to touch. Nice to meet you.”
“Same here.” She moved so that he could pass her and get to the wastebasket in her office.
“Thanks, Ernie. How’s that kitty of yours?”
Ernie smiled. “She’s as ornery as ever, but healthy.”
“Nice to know.” Shirley Mae smiled at the janitor before he turned and left their work area. She turned her attention back to Zora.
“Ernie’s usually better about getting his work done either very early or later, after we’ve gone, but sometimes he runs late. I don’t give him trouble for it because he’s worked here for so long and he’s reliable.”
Shirley Mae appeared to be an excellent office manager, which Zora was grateful for. But she was also a big talker, and Zora had work to do.
“I understand.”
Zora walked around to the back of the expansive desk and took a seat in Katherine Pearson’s very comfortable and very modern ergonometric chair. Another thing to like about Silver Valley Community Church.
“What do you think about the killer?” Shirley Mae switched subjects the way the weather changed in central PA.
“I don’t let myself think too much about him. We have a full plate between now and Christmas, and we’re going to pull it off with as much holiday spirit as we can muster.” This undercover minister gig wasn’t so bad. Her training in the Trail Hikers had taught her to stay as close to the truth as she could when it came to events and emotions, and lie only about important details.
Like her navy career.
However, she really wanted Shirley Mae to leave her office. Her wig itched and the suit she wore was oversize to accommodate her Kevlar, a safety precaution Claudia had insisted upon. Zora figured she’d lose ten pounds a week from carrying around the vest for so long each day. All she wanted at the moment was to sit still and look over the events she’d be participating in.
“Thank you so much, Shirley Mae. I think I’ll dive into these notes and work on the sermon for Sunday. Please shut the door when you leave.”
“Oh, okay. Do you want me to hold your calls?”
“No, that’s not necessary. Does Pastor Pearson get a lot of calls each day?”
Shirley Mae shook her head, causing her spiral curls to bounce around her face. She was a young woman, full of enthusiasm for her job.
“No, not this early. The long calls and meetings happen more in the afternoons.”
“Well, then, I’d better get busy now. Please let me know if I can help you with anything, Shirley Mae. You’ve been wonderful to show me around and make me feel so welcome.”
“Sure thing.” Shirley Mae left with a decided flounce but forgot to shut the door. Zora got up, closed it and took the time to close the blinds on the door window, as well.
She needed privacy so that she could at least take off the fake glasses and scratch where the bulletproof vest itched against her skin.
A minister’s job was a demanding one, she soon learned. She understood that this time of year would be full of holiday-related events, but the constant, ongoing education that Katherine Pearson engaged in was mind-boggling. She’d attended workshops leading up to the holidays, and already had many scheduled for the new year. Katherine, like Zora, was also a certified counselor, with a psychology degree in addition to her master’s of divinity.
No wonder the woman was single and reluctant to leave her church. Zora looked at the screensaver on Katherine’s computer—it was a slideshow of photos of her with what Zora assumed were friends and church members.
Katherine Pearson was a beautiful woman in her own right—somewhere in her midthirties with a cute blond pixie cut and sparkling light eyes. Yet in no photo was there a man or woman with her that could be a partner.
Zora got it. Having a serious relationship while working such a fast-paced career was difficult if not impossible.
She ignored the thought that this was what she was facing. A life alone, her career as her only enjoyment.
“Stop it.” She clicked the mouse and started to read up on the ins and outs of the children’s Christmas pageant, scheduled in a week. Christmas Eve. Hopefully they’d have the killer in hand by then. It was awful enough to worry about another adult being senselessly murdered, but children? Not on her watch.
An hour later a soft knock sounded ahead of the door opening.
“Reverend Hammermill? Your, um, fiancé is here to see you.” Shirley Mae looked dazed. And a bit confused. Zora bit her bottom lip to keep from laughing.
“Send him in.”
She didn’t miss how Shirley Mae looked at Bryce.
“Hi, sweetheart.” The endearment caught her by surprise and she wished it didn’t elicit a tingling sensation low in her belly.
Careful. It’s just a job.
“Hi yourself.” She waited for Bryce to shut the door behind him. She was grateful she’d closed the blinds.
“How’s it going so far?” His glance took in the office, the walls lined with photos, before resting on her.
Zora laughed.
“I think we’ve shocked Shirley Mae. She has no idea how I landed a man like you.”
Bryce looked at her, blinked, then looked again as if seeing her disguise for the first time.
“I have to say that brown suit and mousy hair isn’t your best.”
“While you get to wear your...your...” She searched for words other than what she was going to say.
“My plain clothes?”
“Yes.” Was she nuts? She’d already let him know she found him attractive; now she was nearly drooling over him. He did look stunning in his formfitting merino sweater and jeans.
“Well, as far as they’re all concerned I’m your fiancé, and I work for SVPD. They can think we were attracted to each other because of our similar dedication to duty.”
It was smart planning on Claudia’s part. There was no reason Reverend Hammermill shouldn’t have a fiancé who was in law enforcement. Plus there was a good chance that several people in the church knew Bryce, and his going undercover was improbable without a lot of effort. The FBI profiler connected to the case also felt it might help draw out the killer more quickly—he’d see the SVPD presence as a challenge he wanted to beat.
“Have you heard anything new?”
Bryce shook his head.
“No, nothing. Have you had a chance to meet anyone here besides the office staff?”
“Not yet. But we have our first public appearance coming up. How’s your schedule Friday night?”
“Let me see.” Bryce pretended to check his phone. “Nope, nothing. Just some big case I’m working on.”
“Great. Go rent a tux and pick me up by five thirty on Friday. We have a gala to attend.”
“Do we? Where?”
“The Harrisburg Hilton. It’s one of the biggest fund-raisers of the year for local churches. It’ll have a silent auction, corporate sponsors. It’s simple—we just have to show up and smile.”
“And act as if we’re in love.”
The warmth she experienced earlier turned into a white-hot shot of lust that made her wish she was wearing anything but the heavy undercover getup.
At her silence, Bryce walked closer to the desk and leaned over.
“You’re blushing, Reverend.”
“It’s all part of the gig, Bryce.”
“Is it?”
She scooted her chair back, putting much needed space between them.
“Of course.”
He grinned and with o
ne glance conveyed that he was on to her. He knew she wanted him. And he wasn’t afraid to let her see how much he wanted her, too.
“What are you wearing?”
“Wh-what?”
“Tomorrow night, Zora. To the gala. How are you going to cover up your vest?”
“My vest.” She took a moment to think. “I’ll call Claudia. Chances are she’ll agree the risk won’t be so great on the other side of the river. The killer’s hit all of his targets here in Silver Valley, and there’s no indication he’s tracking any ministers in Harrisburg.”
“Fine, but if you don’t wear your vest, then I’m going to be your living vest. I’m not leaving your side.”
“You’re not my bodyguard, Bryce.”
“Not officially, no. But the fiancé of a female minister who’s working in a town where two female ministers have been killed? He’d be more than protective of her, especially if he were truly on SVPD. Which I am.”
“Yes, you are.”
Bryce never leaving her side? It should make her feel more solid, grounded, able to do her undercover job as well as she possibly could.
And it did. But it also left her hot and bothered.
* * *
One thing Zora figured out quickly was that her wig and oversize suit didn’t feel so cumbersome when she had her mind on other things—like pretending to be a minister.
“Colleen, your two o’clock is here.”
“Fine, send them in.”
She figured that as long as she didn’t know the church members in her real life, she’d be okay with counseling as Colleen Hammermill. Ministers and counselors often had very similar training.
A pretty woman, who would be beautiful if not for the exhaustion stamped in every line on her thin face, walked in, followed very reluctantly by a preteen girl.
“Thanks for seeing us, Reverend. I would have waited until Reverend Pearson got back but my daughter and I are at odds and we could use some help.”
“Of course. Please take a seat.”
Once they were seated she got started.
“I’m Colleen, and I want to assure you that besides being a minister I’m a trained counselor. Anything we discuss here is in total confidence, with the exception of child abuse, which I’m required by law to report to the authorities.”
