Part 6 (1/2)
”What?”
”That's all he said. Just told me to tell you to get your a.s.s over there p.r.o.nto.”
”d.a.m.n! What's going on around here? We haven't had a murder in Cherokee Pointe in years and now we have two in the county in forty-eight hours.”
Jacob strapped on his hip holster, put on his leather jacket, and yanked his Stetson off the hook by the door, then headed through the outer office. Once outside, he moved carefully over the icy sidewalk until he reached his truck. His booted feet made large, deep impressions in the snow piled up along the edge of the street. He unlocked his black Dodge Ram, climbed inside and started the engine. While sitting there, letting the engine idle and warm, he allowed his mind to wander, allowed himself to question his decision to run for sheriff this past year.
He'd been born and raised in Cherokee County, a poor boy, a quarter-breed, a young h.e.l.lion who'd joined the navy at eighteen. Ten months ago, when he'd left the service, put his years as a SEAL behind him and come home, he'd been hailed as a hero. When Farlan MacKinnon had approached him about running for sheriff, he hadn't seriously considered the offer of his backing. But Farlan had been insistent. And what Farlan wanted, he usually got. One of the two richest men in the county, and the most influential man in his political party, Farlan had promised Jacob that if he ran for office, he'd win. The old man had been right. Now Jacob wondered why the h.e.l.l he'd let Farlan and his cohorts talk him into this job.
A horn honking behind him brought Jacob back to the present moment. He glanced through his partially defrosted back window and saw Royce Pierpont, in his silver Lexus sedan, throw up a hand and wave at him. Jacob returned the wave. Why was Royce bothering to open up his antique shop today? Jacob wondered. There wouldn't be any tourists in town with weather like this, and probably not many locals either.
Jacob s.h.i.+fted the gear into reverse, backed up, and headed down the street, going slow and easy over the thin sheet of ice still clinging to the asphalt.
A large brick structure that had been built in the early twentieth century and modernized from time to time, the Congregational Church was on the corner of Monroe and Highland. Jacob parked his truck, got out, and headed up the sidewalk. Policemen swarmed like bees inside and out. Looked like the entire Cherokee Pointe police department was here.
Chief Watson met Jacob in the vestibule the minute he entered the building. ”Glad you're here,” he said. ”It's a b.l.o.o.d.y mess in there.”
”Bobby Joe said you mentioned that this murder was similar to Susie Richards'-”
”Another sacrificial killing,” Watson said. ”I saw the pictures of Susie Richards your department took, but I'm telling you that unless you see it for real, you can't imagine how bad it is.”
”Mind if I take a look?” Jacob steeled himself to view another horrific crime scene.
Chief Watson led Jacob into the sanctuary. Morning sunlight flooded through the stained-gla.s.s windows, casting bright rainbows over the wooden pews with their red velvet seats.
”She's up here, on the altar,” Watson said.
”Hmm.”
Several members of the forensic crew busied themselves gathering evidence. Jacob moved closer, took a quick look, and glanced away.
”Cindy Todd.”
The mayor's wife lay naked atop the altar, her calves and feet hanging off the end, a gaping wound from b.r.e.a.s.t.s to pubic area glistening with blood and exposed entrails.
”It's enough to turn a man's stomach,” Watson said, his face pale and sweaty.
”Has anyone contacted Jerry Lee?” Jacob asked.
”I called him right before I called you. Told him to come down to the police department, but I didn't give him any specifics. Just told him it was important.”
”He came by my office early this morning looking for her.”
”You don't reckon Jerry Lee could have-”
”Not his style,” Jacob said. ”He'd have either shot her or beat the h.e.l.l out of her. Besides, this has all the earmarks of being identical to Susie Richards' murder.”
”You think we got ourselves a serial killer here in Cherokee Pointe?”
Jacob shook his head. ”Too soon to make that kind of judgment. Could be some sort of cult thing.”
”You mean one of them devil-wors.h.i.+ping cults?”
”Just a possibility.” Jacob glanced around and quickly spotted the church's new minister and his wife huddled together toward the back of the sanctuary, a police officer speaking to them. ”Who found the body?”
”Reverend Stowe,” Watson said. ”The guy's pretty shook up, but then who wouldn't be?”
”What's his wife doing here?”
”After he called us from his office down the hall there”-Watson indicated the location of the office with a nod of his head-”he went back home and waited for us. He and Mrs. Stowe came back over here together.”
Jacob studied the Stowes for a moment before turning his attention to the chief. ”I think we probably need some help. Neither your department nor mine is equipped to handle this sort of crime, especially not now that there have been two identical murders.”
”Don't go putting us down,” Watson said. ”I've got no intention of calling in outside help. Not yet.”
”Do you think your department can handle this case if it turns out we're dealing with a serial killer?”
”h.e.l.lfire, Jacob, I thought you said it was probably a devil-wors.h.i.+ping cult.”
”I don't know for sure. And that's the problem. I'm new at this job, and my experience in matters like this is nil. The resources of the Cherokee County Sheriff's Department is limited. And I'm not too proud to ask for help when I need it.”
”Then, boy, you go ahead and call for help. I don't need any. I've been police chief for fifteen years. I know my way around a murder investigation.”
Jacob knew better than to argue with Roddy Watson, the stubborn, narrow-minded, ignorant son of a b.i.t.c.h. ”Whatever you say.”
Just as Jacob turned to leave, Jerry Lee Todd came storming into the church. When several policemen tried to stop him, he shoved them aside and when they moved to overpower him, Chief Watson motioned for them to leave the mayor alone. Jerry Lee ran toward the altar.
”Hold up there,” Watson called. ”You don't want to do this.”
”Is it her?” Jerry Lee asked. ”Is it my Cindy?”
”Yeah, it's Cindy,” Watson replied. ”Believe me, Jerry Lee, you do not want to-”
”What happened? Is she really dead?” Jerry Lee barreled past the forensic team, taking no heed of their requests for him not to disturb the scene.
Jerry Lee skidded to a halt when he saw his wife's mutilated body. ”Cindy! Oh, G.o.d, Cindy!”
”h.e.l.l,” Watson murmured.
Jacob rushed forward and grabbed Jerry Lee's shoulder, stopping him from getting any closer to Cindy's body. Jerry Lee spun around, grief and fury in his eyes. ”Let me go, d.a.m.n you. I've got to see her, talk to her, touch her.”
”No,” Jacob said. ”What you've got to do is let the police do their job so they can find the person responsible.”
”You can't stop me. That's my wife.” Jerry Lee jerked away from Jacob. ”I have every right to-”
Jacob drew back his fist and clipped Jerry Lee on the temple. The mayor dropped like dead weight tossed into the river. Turning to Chief Watson, Jacob said, ”Get a couple of your boys to take him home and stay with him until he calms down.”