Authors: Kylie Brant
Waking Evil 02 (44 page)
Dev turned at the next corner and began to backtrack. “It might be best if you go to the door. I’d be lyin’ if I said there was love lost ’tween me and Reverend Biggers.”
“Really?” False wonder dripped from the word. “And here I thought his greeting was meant as a term of endearment. Sounded like there’s ancient history between you two.”
“Mostly. Some of it’s recent. He took exception to me bein’ in the graveyard the other night, regardless of the fact that I had permission to be there.” He gave a lift of his shoulder. “We have differin’ views on the sins of the fathers, you could say.”
The amusement abruptly faded from her expression. “I could rough him up while I’m in there if you want.”
For an offer surely made in jest, there was a note of promise in her words. And it warmed him that she’d take his part, even without the details of the bad blood between him and the reverend.
“Old goat would probably enjoy it,” he said lightly. He lifted a hand as they passed Margaret Ann Nierling watering her peonies. “I always sorta figured that the ones who are supposed to be beyond reproach are often the biggest sinners out there.”
“Yeah.” Her voice went bleak. “I’ve discovered the same thing.”
Slowing at the corner of Nantucket, the street running along the west side of the church, he signaled, preparing to turn. Ramsey was facing the window, but her profile was rigid. Sometime, he vowed, she was going to explain to him exactly what had happened in her past that had formed the shield she’d erected around herself. But because it would be meaningless if she didn’t volunteer the information willingly, he resigned himself to waiting.
“Back up.”
Sending a quizzical look in her direction, he found her still staring out the window.
“Why?”
She reached out to grip his arm, still not looking at him. “Back up!”
Her urgent tone had him looking in his rearview mirror and slowing even more. There was a car following along behind him, making stopping impossible.
“Dev, I’m serious. I want to . . .”
“Hang on. We’ve got traffic laws even in a town this size.” He came to a complete halt, powered down his window and waved the vehicle behind him to go around.
When the road was clear, he backed up, coming to a halt before the side of the church. He’d barely slowed the car before Ramsey was tumbling out the door. “Where are you . . .” He threw the vehicle into park and got out to follow her, wondering when he’d ever seen this degree of excitement from her before.
“What do you suppose that is?”
He squinted in the direction she was pointing. Felt a pitch in his gut when he saw the images in the simple stained glass windows on either side of the door. On the right was an image of pinecones, a soft brown against the cloudy yellow glass. On the left . . . he cocked his head. “Is that a flower?”
“It’s some sort of plant.” Adrenaline fairly shimmered off her. “And this was originally the front of the church. That’s what you guys were saying earlier. Before they decided Main Street should run the other way. Molitor said these windows were original, right? Each but the front one.”
“That’s what he said.” Regardless of what he was and wasn’t supposed to know about the case, Ramsey was working, they’d spent nearly a full day visiting local healers, and she’d offered a small fortune for samples from Raelynn Urdall. It was clear that a plant of some sort figured largely in Ramsey’s investigation.
“See what Molitor can tell you about the windows. I’ll take some pictures of them.” He had all his equipment still in the trunk from the unproductive time he’d spent at the old Kuemper place earlier in the day.
But he was speaking to Ramsey’s back. She was already heading for the minister’s home.
“I would havefigured people in a small town would take more interest in the local history.” Frustrated, Ramsey ducked into Dev’s car and slammed the door after her.
He started the engine. “No luck?”
“Well, Molitor knew the one window had pinecones, of course. But he seemed to think the plant was a generic symbol of new life. Rebirth.” Which, when she thought about it, could take on new meaning to a twisted mind raping and killing women and dumping them in whatever body of water was handy.
She applied a mental brake to her thinking. There was no solid connection yet between the Frost killing and the one near DC. But if Detective Hopwood’s evidence was still intact, she might get a link through the hair he’d found entwined in the rope.
A sudden thought occurred to her. “Water.”
“You’re thirsty?”
She shook her head. “In a church, I mean. Water has symbolism, too, right? Baptism. Cleansing sin, or whatnot.”
“Most churches have some sort of baptism.” He sounded reflective. “I guess cleansin’ is as good a term as any. Was Molitor able to put together that list for you?”
“He was, although he seemed a bit distracted by the hellhound playing chess with him.”
“Actually has a proper name. Reverend Jay Biggers of the Southern Baptist Church here in town.”
“Didn’t seem particularly ministerly.” What he’d seemed, from her observations, was the cheat Molitor had called him. While the younger man was rummaging in his desk drawer for a pen and paper to write Ramsey’s list, Biggers had been surreptitiously moving his queen. She’d aimed the same look at him that she regularly used on recalcitrant suspects until he’d returned the queen to its earlier position.
“Anyway, if you took pictures of the windows, I’d rather go back to the motel. I’d like to print them out and get them over to my guy in the lab.”
“I got some pictures. Camera’s in the backseat.” He took the next left and headed toward the motel. “You want to use it, though, it’s gonna cost you.”
“I’m already buying you wine. What more do you want?” She twisted in her seat and tried to get the camera. When she couldn’t reach it, she unsnapped her seat belt and shifted position, half diving in the backseat to make another attempt at it.
“Well, that’s a start, I s’pose.”
When she felt his palm on her butt, she slapped it away. Snagging the camera, she returned to her seat, shooting him a narrowed look. “That’s a good way to lose a hand.”
“Honey, it just might be worth it.”
The lazy good humor in his words had her smiling in spite of herself. The smile abruptly faded when memory intruded. “I can’t believe I forgot to tell you.” Guilt stabbed through her. “I went to see ex-chief of police Kenner this morning.”
If she hadn’t been watching so closely she might not have noticed the slight tensing of his body, as if readying for a blow. “What’d he have to say?”
“He didn’t want to say much. He seems discreet enough. But he indicated the mystery of your father’s drinking prior to the murder might be solved by a conversation with your mother. Sounded like he kept details from the report that he didn’t feel were pertinent to the night in question in an effort to avoid some sort of embarrassment.”
The muscle in his jaw clenched once. “Well, we’re a polite folk down here.”
Remorse sprouted fangs, sank deep. “I’m really sorry I didn’t tell you earlier.”
He turned into the parking lot of the motel and pulled up to the cabin housing the temporary TBI office. “Don’t be. It’s goin’ to take some time to decide how badly I want to know those details.” His smile was humorless. “You’re not the only one with reason to avoid contact with family.”
Because it was locked, Ramsey banged on the door to the lab. Jonesy answered and blocked her entrance. “Uh-uh, you don’t come in unless you’re sterile.”
She looked down at herself. “I haven’t exactly been rolling in the dirt today.” Although if it hadn’t been for the quilt Dev had snatched from the bed, she would have been close during their picnic. “And don’t I always gown up when I come inside?”
But he was adamant. “I’m running tests; there’s no reason for you to come in. I don’t have anything for you yet. I’m about three quarters done with the comparisons on those plants and no matches yet.”
She handed him the batch of photos she’d downloaded from Dev’s cameras. “Do any of them look like this?”
He flipped through the pages. Today he was back in jeans and a T-shirt beneath the scrubs. She absolutely didn’t want to consider whether he seemed more relaxed or not.
“I never realized how much plant parts can look alike,” he muttered. “But yeah, there are a couple that seem similar. You want me to try them next?”
“I’ll wait while you do.”
When he looked up from the photos to glower at her, she gave him a grim smile. “The only way you’re keeping me out of the lab is if you think you can throw me out. Feeling lucky today?”
Apparently he wasn’t. Although that didn’t stop him from throwing her filthy looks after she donned sterile clothing and made herself comfortable on a chair in the corner.
An hour later she was convinced he was being purposefully slow. Meticulous was one thing, but surely it shouldn’t take that long to cut off the roots from the plants, wash them, and slice a part from each to jam under the microscope.
Involuntarily, her thoughts turned to Dev’s response to her conversation with Kenner. He was a grown man. It was ridiculous to worry about him. But there had been something in his eyes that told her he expected the upcoming conversation with his mother to be more unpleasant than illuminating. And she could sympathize with his reluctance to tackle it.
What was shocking was the strength of her desire to spare him that. She, who would never thank anyone for attempting to protect her from unpleasantness. Ramsey was reminded then of what Leanne had had to say about Dev’s parents a couple days ago.
From all accounts, Lucas Rollins was a lot like Dev. Easy to get along with and not much for gettin’ liquored up and carousin’. Which seems sorta ironic. Woman like that would drive most men to drink.
It made her wonder just what sort of woman Celia Ann was.
“Geez, you asleep over there or what? I expected some sort of reaction, at least.”
Her attention snapped to Jonesy, who was looking a bit crestfallen. “What?”
He gave an exaggerated sigh of patience. “Like I told you a minute ago. We’ve got a match.”
Chapter 21
“It’s called turmeric.” Ramsey spelled the name for Powell as she looked down at the printouts before her. She’d spent hours doing research on the Internet before calling the agent with what she had. The excitement buzzing through her had grown with each new discovery and was now impossible to contain. “It has numerous healing properties. Ulcers, for one thing.” She thought the man would appreciate that detail. “It’s said to detoxify the liver, balance cholesterol levels, stimulate digestion . . . there’s a whole list. The root is ground up and used as a spice. It’s native to India.”
“But none of the local healers you talked to recall sellin’ any recently.”
“I haven’t been able to get in contact with Rose Thornton yet,” she admitted. There’d been no sign of the woman anywhere on her property when Ramsey had driven out there. And after knocking, she’d tried the woman’s door only to find it locked. “But I made personal contacts with the other women I’d spoken to. All say they have only an occasional call for it, and none think they’ve sold any in the last year.”
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