Part 28 (2/2)

There were others besides Dewan Phillips.

A voice inside her head whispered a name. She scanned the audience so others would not suspect anything out of the ordinary when her gaze settled briefly on the demon sitting at the back of the church in one of the many folding chairs.

Yes, of course. It was quite obvious to her now who the next false prophet was that G.o.d wished for her to punish. A man who committed the most grievous sins, a man she should have already sent straight to the fires of h.e.l.l.

How many unholy men of G.o.d were rapists? Pedophiles? Adulterers? Far too many. All of them needed to be wiped from the face of the earth. It was her duty to act on G.o.d's behalf as His angel of death and execute the wicked.

I am blessed to have been chosen.

My life should have been an abomination, and if not for Thy great benevolence, it would have been. But in choosing me as an instrument of Thy punishment, I have been saved.

The prayer vigil ran over by a good fifteen minutes, which left the visitors who attended Wednesday night church services elsewhere approximately forty-five minutes to make their way through the crowd, get to their vehicles and drive to their own churches. Since she was sitting on one of the back pews, Cathy surmised that she should be able to exit the building fairly quickly, but once she stood and looked behind her, she saw dozens of people standing up, all the way from the final pew to the open doorway. And the crowd spilled outside onto the front steps and into the churchyard.

”There must be at least four or five hundred people here,” Jack said as he cupped Cathy's elbow. ”Did you drive or ride with Lorie?”

”I rode with Lorie.”

”I could give you a ride home.”

”Thank you, but I'm going from here to Wednesday night services,” she told him. ”I'd planned to ride with Seth and his grandparents.”

Jack nodded.

”If you'd like to go to church with me...” she offered.

”I'll pa.s.s.” He eased his hand away from her arm.

Donnie Hovater spoke directly to Jack. ”h.e.l.lo, Deputy Perdue. Good to see you and Sheriff Birkett and the other lawmen here tonight.”

Jack didn't reply, just nodded again.

”Cathy, would you and Seth like a ride to church?” Donnie asked.

”I...uh...” She glanced at her son, who had his arm draped around Missy Hovater's shoulders. ”Yes, thank you. I'm sure that will be fine with J.B. and Mona.”

”We'd love to see you at church again,” Donnie said to Jack.

”Yeah, sure. You never know when I might show up.”

Cathy wondered if she had imagined the compet.i.tive glare the two men had exchanged.

”Are there any updates on the case?” Cathy asked, hoping to defuse any tension between Jack and Donnie.

”None that I can discuss,” Jack replied.

”I'm sure y'all are doing everything you possibly can,” she said.

”I don't mean to interrupt,” Donnie said. ”But we really should get going. I imagine, considering this crowd, that traffic is going to be a nightmare leaving here.”

”Call me,” Cathy told Jack, her voice little more than a whisper. A part of her longed to go with him, to forget about everything and everyone except Jack and the way she felt about him.

”Yeah, sure,” Jack said before he walked away.

Donnie came around from the back of the pew and called to his daughter. ”Missy, honey, Seth and his mom are riding with us.” Then he turned to Cathy. ”Are you ready?”

”Yes.”

She fell into step alongside Donnie, but she kept track of Jack as he made his way through the horde of people ahead of them. Before they reached the front steps, she saw Jack walking across the road to where his car was parked. He didn't look back, not even once.

Was he angry with her? Disappointed? Hurt? It was difficult to tell exactly what Jack was thinking or feeling.

Jack shouldn't matter so much to you, she told herself. she told herself. You have enough problems to handle without adding a love affair with Jackson Perdue into the mix. You have enough problems to handle without adding a love affair with Jackson Perdue into the mix.

After an hour-and-a-half church service, followed by the congregation's own prayer vigil for Bruce Kelley, Seth left with his grandparents, and Donnie insisted on driving Cathy home. Missy had remained in the car while he walked Cathy to her door, and she'd been sure he would have tried to kiss her if his daughter hadn't been with him. If only she could feel half the attraction for Donnie that she felt for Jack, it would make her life far simpler. J.B. and Mona would approve of Donnie. Even now they were beginning to think of him as an honorary member of their family. And she suspected that Seth would approve of her dating Donnie solely because he reminded them both of Mark. Not that the two men were by any means identical, just similar.

Perhaps, in time, she could learn to care for Donnie. After all, when she'd married Mark, she hadn't been in love with him, nor had he been in love with her. She had learned to love him, and they'd had a good life together.

But could she settle for less than being pa.s.sionately in love for a second time in her life?

No, she couldn't. She wouldn't. She deserved more.

Even if she lived the rest of her life alone, it would be better than settling for less than real love.

As she unb.u.t.toned her lavender silk blouse, Cathy kicked off her black sandals in the bedroom before walking into the bathroom. She placed the blouse in the dry-cleaner pouch she kept hanging on the back of the door. Then she stripped out of her dress slacks and peeled off her bra and panties. Feeling hot and sticky, she looked forward to a nice lukewarm shower, something to relax her and cool her off before bedtime. Temperatures were already in the low nineties, and the humidity was horrendous for this early in June. It wasn't even officially summer, but in Alabama, summertime weather often hit in late spring.

Twenty minutes later, scrubbed clean, her hair damp and her pajamas on, Cathy headed for the kitchen. During her marriage to Mark, she had adhered to his teetotaler philosophy, but while living in Birmingham during her recovery, she had discovered the pleasures of a gla.s.s of good wine. Although not a connoisseur by any stretch of the imagination, she knew what she liked. She loved a crisp, white Zinfandel and happily poured a gla.s.s from the bottle she kept in the refrigerator.

When the doorbell rang, she glanced at the wall clock. Ten-thirty. Not late by most people's standards, but certainly past the hour for visitors. Had Donnie taken Missy home and returned? She hoped not. The last thing she wanted to do was hurt his feelings, but she couldn't encourage him.

She set her gla.s.s on the kitchen table and ran through the house to the bedroom. After grabbing her housecoat off the foot of her bed, she slipped into it, rushed to the front door and flipped on the porch light. The moment she recognized her visitor, she opened the door to him, her heart doing a crazy little rat-a-tat-tat number.

”Evening.” Jack stood on the porch, the overhead lamp turning his light hair to burnished gold.

”You're stopping by sort of late, aren't you?” Dear G.o.d, Cathy, was that the only thing you could think of to say? Dear G.o.d, Cathy, was that the only thing you could think of to say?

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