Silent Killer

by Beverly Barton

  The Sunday morning service ended with another hymn and a final prayer by one of the young deacons. J.B. headed straight for Seth, a satisfied expression on his face. Cathy didn’t think she had ever despised her father-in-law more than she did at that very moment.

  She leaned over and whispered to Jack, “I need to talk to Seth.”

  “I’ll wait for you in the car.” He glanced around at the horde of parishioners as if they were alien beings. Unless Jack had changed over the years, he was not a religious man.

  “Okay.” She squeezed his hand. “Thank you.”

  He grinned, then turned and walked away, doing his best to avoid speaking to anyone on his rush up the aisle toward the vestibule.

  Cathy smiled, nodded, and even shook hands with several people as she made her way to Seth. By the time she approached her son, Mona and Elaine had joined J.B., and the threesome surrounded him, providing a buffer between her and Seth.

  Mona glanced at her, a plea for peace in her eyes. “Good morning, Cathy.”

  “Good morning. I’d like to speak to Seth privately, please.”

  “Say whatever you have to say to him in front of us,” J.B. told her.

  Seth stood tall and straight as he fixed his gaze on her. “Thanks for being here this morning, Mom.”

  “Where else would I be?” She totally ignored J.B. as she wedged herself between Mona and her mother so that she could touch her son. She put her hand on his shoulder. “I’d like for you to come to lunch with Jack and Lorie and me. We’re going to the Cedar Hill Grill. You love their homemade yeast rolls and their chocolate pecan pie.”

  “Seth is going home with his grandmothers and me,” J.B. said, his tone brooking no argument.

  Cathy looked J.B. square in the eye. “Seth is old enough to think for himself. You can’t force him to become a clone of Mark or, God forbid, a clone of you. He is his own person—”

  “He thought for himself last night,” J.B. told her. “And you see what happened. I think you need to remember that you no longer have any rights where Seth is concerned.”

  “I’m his mother!”

  “You are an unfit mother.”

  Damn him!

  Mona gasped.

  “Mom is not an unfit mother,” Seth said. “You shouldn’t say such things about her.”

  J.B. snapped his head around and looked at Seth as if he’d never seen his grandson before that moment. “You know better than to be disrespectful to me. That smart-mouth attitude is her doing, and I’ll have none of it. Do you hear me, young man?”

  Donnie Hovater hurried toward them, leaving his handshaking duties behind as he called to them, “Please, lower your voices. Remember you’re in the Lord’s house.”

  J.B. stiffened. “I apologize, Brother Donnie. I’m afraid I let my concern for my grandson—”

  “We should go home, J.B.” Mona curled her fingers around his forearm. “People are staring at us.”

  He nodded, then reached out and clutched Seth’s wrist. “We’re leaving. Now.”

  “I’m going with Mom,” Seth said. “I’ll be home later this afternoon.”

  “No, you will not go with her,” J.B. said. “I forbid you to leave here with her.”

  “Perhaps we can reach a compromise.” Donnie looked directly at J.B. “With your permission, Brother Cantrell, I’d like to invite Cathy and Seth to have lunch with Missy and me today, and then afterward I’ll bring Seth home.”

  J.B. huffed loudly. Mona tightened her grip on his arm.

  “That sounds like a perfectly reasonable idea, don’t you think?” Mona’s gaze begged her husband to agree.

  “Very well,” J.B. acquiesced reluctantly. “I’m entrusting him into your care, Brother Donnie.” Without another word, J.B. marched off, leaving Mona and Elaine standing there. Both women forced halfhearted smiles.

  “Thank you for acting as a mediator in this situation.” Mona sighed heavily as she looked at Donnie.

  Elaine grasped Cathy’s upper arm, leaned over and hissed, “Keep this up and you’ll lose Seth forever. Is that what you want?”

  Acting as if she hadn’t heard her mother’s warning, Cathy turned to Seth. “I’d thought we might have lunch with Jack and Lorie, but I’m sure they’ll understand why I’ll have to cancel on them. I need to find Jack and tell him—”

  “Why’d he come to church with you today?” Seth asked.

  “He came with me as a friend, for moral support.”

  “Are we ready to go?” Donnie asked.

  “Yes,” Cathy replied. “I just need a few minutes to speak to Jack. He’s waiting outside for me.

  “Yes, by all means,” Donnie said. “We’ll meet you at my car. It’s the silver Chevy Tahoe.”

  Cathy found Jack propped against the hood of his black 1999 Corvette, his arms crossed over his wide chest. When he saw her, he stood up straight and grinned.

  “Ready for some of Cedar Hill’s homemade yeast rolls?” he asked.

  “I’m afraid there’s been a change in plans,” Cathy said, then went on to explain the situation. “I’m really sorry, but—”

  “You don’t need to explain,” Jack told her. “Your son comes first. Besides, it’s not like this is our only chance to have Sunday dinner together.”

  She stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “For coming to church with me today and for understanding about lunch.”

  “Stick to your guns, honey. Don’t let anybody talk you out of fighting for your kid.”

  “J.B. Cantrell is a real son of a bitch,” Lorie said.

  Jack stared into his dessert plate, his thoughts a million miles away. Well, not quite a million miles, just a few miles away to wherever Cathy was. Whatever decisions she made about her life, especially those involving her son, were none of his business. He had no claims on her, despite their past.

  What past? They had spent all of two weeks together, sneaking around day and night, using Mike as a front so that Cathy’s mother wouldn’t figure out she was dating the town’s former bad boy. So what if they’d thought they were in love? She’d been a starry-eyed seventeen-year-old and he’d been her first lover. And he’d been a horny, hungry-for-affection young man facing an uncertain future half a world away.

  “Earth to Jackson Perdue.” Lorie reached across the table and tapped him in the center of his chest.

  “Yeah, what?” He stared at her.

  “I said that J.B. Cantrell is a real son of a bitch.”

  Jack grunted. “Yeah, he is.”

  She studied Jack closely, a frown marring her smooth forehead. “Want to tell me what’s going on with you? You show up in town for the first time in years. You move back, into a house you hated. You take a job that you’re probably both unqualified and overqualified for, and you insert yourself into Cathy’s life again at a time when the last thing she needs is another complication.”

  “Is that what I am to Cathy, a complication?”

  Lorie drew in a deep breath, not answering immediately, and then she replied by turning his own question back on him. “Exactly what is Cathy to you?”

  “An old friend.”

  Lorie snorted. “You and Cathy were never anything as simple as friends. You two were crazy about each other, couldn’t keep your hands off each other.”

  “Yeah, sure, for two whole weeks.”

  “You left her, remember?”

  “I was in the army. I had no choice. I thought she’d wait for me.”

  “She did.”

  “Not for long.”

  “You were reported missing in action, possibly a POW or worse—maybe dead.”

  “Yeah, and how long after that did she marry Mark Cantrell—a couple of months?”

  Lorie shook her head, her thick, reddish-brown hair bouncing on her shoulders. “If you’re pursuing her now in order to get some sort of revenge for—”

  Jack laughed. “I haven’t spent all these years pining a
way for Cathy any more than she has for me. Yeah, when I got out of the prison camp and came back to the U.S. and found out she’d married somebody else, I felt pretty raw about it. But that was a long time ago. Cathy and I are practically strangers now.”

  “Strangers who are still attracted to each other,” Lorie said. “And I’m not saying that you wouldn’t be good for each other. But I’m warning you—Cathy is the best friend I’ve ever had, and if you hurt her, I’ll rip your head off.”

  Grinning, Jack reached over and took Lorie’s hand. “She’s lucky to have a friend who cares so much about her.”

  “I’m the lucky one. When I came back to Dunmore nine years ago, with my tail tucked between my legs, it didn’t take me long to realize I was the town pariah. Even my own parents wouldn’t give me the time of day. But Cathy reached out to me. She went against everyone, including her husband, to offer me her friendship. She was the only person in town who was willing to give me a second chance.”

  “What sort of man was Mark Cantrell?” Jack released Lorie’s hand.

  “He was basically a good man, considering the fact he was a preacher. And you should know that my opinion of clergymen in general is that half of them are sanctimonious hypocrites. Mark wasn’t.”

  Frowning, Jack nodded.

  “Not what you wanted to hear, huh?” Lorie said.

  “Actually, I’m glad he was a good man. Cathy deserved somebody a lot better than me. I was pretty messed up back then.” He let out a chest-deep chuckle. “Hell, I’m still messed up, but getting a little better every day.”

  “Mark was eight years older than Cathy and a lot more settled than guys her age. He’d been married before and lost his first wife. He was ready to get married again and to start a family. And that’s what Cathy wanted.”

  “So she had a good life. She was happy.”

  Lorie grabbed Jack’s hand and squeezed. “Yes, she had a good life. She was content. But…” She released his hand and leaned back away from him. “Damn, I shouldn’t say this.” She paused for a moment. “Cathy never forgot you.”

  Lorie’s words hit him like a sledgehammer in the gut, knocking the air out of him. He sat there stunned and speechless for several seconds. But before he could react further, he felt a hand clamp down over his shoulder.

  “Afternoon, Deputy,” Mike Birkett said. “Is the blackberry cobbler good today?”

  Jack scooted back his chair, stood and shook hands with his boss.

  “Mama, you remember Jackson Perdue, don’t you?” Mike said to the plump, silver-haired woman standing to his right.

  “Sure do. How are you, Jack?” Nell Birkett smiled at him, and then she glanced past him at Lorie. Her smile vanished.

  “Hello, Mrs. Birkett,” Lorie said.

  Nell hesitated before replying. “Hello, Lorie.”

  A rambunctious little boy with freckles and a stock of thick auburn hair tugged on his father’s hand, and a shy, slender girl who was Mike’s spitting image, dark hair, eyes and complexion, peeped out from where she stood behind him.

  “Kids, I’d like y’all to meet Mr. Perdue.” Mike pulled both kids in front of him. “This is M.J.”—he ruffled his son’s hair—“and this is Hannah.”

  “Hi.” M.J. grinned.

  “Hello, Mr. Perdue.” Hannah smiled at Jack, and then glanced past him to Lorie. “Oh, hello, Miss Lorie.”

  Seeing Lorie, M.J. ran over to her. “You look mighty pretty today.”

  “Thank you, M.J.” Lorie smiled at the boy and then glanced up at Mike.

  “You two go on with your grandmother over to our table,” Mike said. “I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

  “But Daddy, we want to introduce you to Miss Lorie,” Hannah said.

  “Miss Lorie and I have been introduced.” Mike bit out the words through partially clenched teeth. “Now go order dinner. I’ll be right on over.”

  Nell grabbed both children’s hands and hurried them away, but not before she glanced at Lorie, a rather sad look in her eyes.

  “How is it that my kids know you?” Mike demanded, his cheeks slightly flushed.

  Jack started to intervene, but thought better of it. Lorie wouldn’t thank him for coming to her rescue. He sat back down, picked up his spoon and dipped into his cobbler.

  “I’ve seen them at the interfaith socials a few times. Patsy Floyd has become a good friend, and she talked me into coming along with her to the monthly get-togethers.”

  “From now on, stay away from my kids.”

  “Why? You don’t honestly think that my wickedness”—she held up her hands and shook them in a boogie-boo gesture—“will rub off on them, do you?”

  Mike leaned down so that they were face-to-face and said in a calm yet harsh voice, “If you’re using my kids to get back into my life, forget it. I’m not interested, and I never will be.”

  He turned and stomped off, leaving Lorie sitting there quietly, her face ashen and a sheen of moisture in her eyes.

  “Are you all right?” Jack asked.

  She nodded.

  “Want to leave?”

  She swallowed. “No. Finish your dessert.”

  “Mike was pretty rough on you. It’s not like him to—”

  “I hurt him something awful,” she said. “Not just when I broke our engagement and went off to Hollywood thinking I’d become a big star, but…” She closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead, then looked up at Jack. “Mike’s seen the spread I did for Playboy and that one porn movie I made, and he knows that three-fourths of the men in Dunmore have seen them, too. That’s not something a man can forget or forgive.”

  Jack didn’t know how to respond. He wanted to tell her that she was wrong, that given time, Mike would come around, that he would at least forgive her. But how could he tell her something he didn’t believe? He had no idea how he’d feel if he were in Mike’s place. He had to admit that in many ways modern man was as savage as his ancient counterpart and lived by the same double standard that his male ancestors had.

  Erin McKinley always came away from the Sunday morning service feeling uplifted and inspired by John Earl’s sermon. He possessed the unique ability to charm and to condemn, practically in the same breath. He taught the Word of God with enthusiasm, but with compassion and genuine understanding of human nature. Of all the ministers she had known during her life, even the ones she had loved with her whole heart, none of them compared to John Earl Harper. He was, without a doubt, her one true love. Unfortunately, he was completely in love with his wife.

  Erin’s first lover had been the youth minister at the Baptist church she attended as a teenager. She’d been fifteen and he twenty-five. When she had gotten pregnant, her lover had suddenly disappeared, supposedly going overseas somewhere on mission work. She had planned to give her child up for adoption but had miscarried in her fourth month.

  At twenty-three, she had taken a job as the secretary for a large church in Athens. The minister had been a handsome, charming, silver-haired devil, and she’d fallen madly in love with him. Reverend Lester Yarbrough had been good to her, treating her with the utmost respect, and never once made any advances. But when his wife of twenty years and one of the church’s deacons ran away together, she had seen her chance and taken it. Her affair with Lester had lasted six months, until his teenage son, Clay, had walked in on them while she was giving Lester a blow job.

  There had been a few others, but none that she’d loved with all her heart. A couple of ministers, one church elder, two deacons and one church musical director. But now her heart belonged solely to John Earl—her heart but not her body. She would lie down and die for him. She would become his secret mistress. She would do anything he asked of her. But he saw her only as his secretary, only as one of his parishioners, only as a family friend.

  Erin parked her Honda Civic in front of her duplex apartment, got out and rummaged in her shoulder bag for her house key. When she reached the front door, she noticed that it stood partially ajar. The door h
ad not been jimmied, and the glass panes had not been broken. That meant only one thing—someone had unlocked the door. Only she and one other person had a key.

  Smiling with anticipation, Erin eased open the door and walked into her apartment. After closing and locking the door, she tossed her purse onto the sofa as she made her way toward the bedroom. Lying there buck naked in the middle of her bed, Clay Yarbrough grinned at her as she stood over him, hands on her hips and a smirk on her face.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked.

  “What does it look like?” He thrust his hips up to show off his erection. “I figured after getting all hot and bothered over Reverend Harper at church this morning, you might need a good fucking. And if there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s playing substitute stud for Baptist preachers.”

  Without saying another word, Erin kicked off her shoes, unzipped her dress, removed it and tossed it on the floor. After easing off her pantyhose and stripping out of her bikini panties and bra, she crawled onto the bed and straddled Clay.

  Gazing down into his rugged face, she said, “I’m actually very fond of you, you know.”

  Clay laughed. “Honey, you’re fond of this.” He grabbed his penis and rubbed it up and down between her feminine lips. “And I don’t mind your calling me Lester or John Earl or whoever happens to be the minister of the month, just as long as I’m the guy who’s screwing your brains out.”

  “Shut up, darling.” She gently clutched his penis and inserted it into her body, then slid down over it, taking him completely inside her. “Make love to me.” She closed her eyes and sighed. Make love to me, John Earl. John Earl…

  “It would be my pleasure, my sweet Erin.” He grasped her hips in his rough hands and set the rhythm for their frenzied mating. “Fuck me, baby. Come on. Give your John Earl a good fucking.”

  She went wild, clawing and scratching, moaning and screaming until she climaxed. While she melted around him, he flipped her over on her back and lunged deeper and harder until he came.

  Ten minutes later, Clay was gone. He had dumped his condom in the bathroom wastepaper basket, washed, put on his clothes, kissed her on the forehead and left.

  Erin lay there, naked, her body slightly bruised and completely sated in a physical way. But emotionally, she felt empty. For a few glorious minutes, she had been able to pretend the man giving her pleasure was John Earl, just as, years ago, after Clay’s father had ended their affair, she had been able to pretend the seventeen-year-old Clay had been Lester.