Atonement (29 page)

“Ahh, but these are things I didn't hear from any of them. Quite honestly, Deputy, the only one who ever came to speak with me, and he did so not in the confessional, was Dusty Walker, as I told you in our previous conversation. None of the others dared set foot inside the confessional.”

“Not even Giselle Tomberlin when she was younger?”

He shook his head. “She was a dear thing, but I could see that she didn't get along with her family. It came as no surprise to me that she left the church as soon as she was old enough.” Stroking his chin, he pursed lips together.

Silence hovered over them for a moment. Nic didn't push it, waiting to see where his thoughts were going.

“And you say they felt death was the atonement?”

“Apparently.”

“How horrific,” he said from behind his hand. “How horribly horrific. Where would they come up with such a thing?”

Nic couldn't tell if he was being sincere or the good father was a great actor. Should she reveal to him what they knew about someone assisting in the suicides? He was a clergyman, one sworn to keep a confidence, but in her experience, that meant jack squat at times.

“Deputy Rivers, you must understand, this is not something the church finds appropriate.”

“Someone in the congregation seems to, whether the church agrees with it or not.”

Once again, his expression turned to one of suspicion. “What are you not telling me?”

In a way, she'd ruled him out as a suspect. What the hell, she could drop the bomb on him. “We suspect someone is assisting these people, talking them into committing suicide. And it's my belief he's using the church to find his victims.”

“My brain hurts.”

Con paused in his reading at Nic's groan. He watched her as she buried her fingers in her hair and bent over the piles of scattered papers all over the table.

“Hurts how?” he demanded. Since she'd returned from her talk with Father Evans, Con refused to leave her side, per Doc Drummond's insistence that he keep an eye on her for any repercussions to her concussion. For the most part she appeared to be okay while they scoured the case files for any clue as to who their killer was. Her complaint of a hurting head raised Con's panic. Was he going to have to rush her back to the hospital?

“It's not the concussion. I'm tired of reading the same thing over and over. Father Evans couldn't give me anything new, except our killer must have used the confessional to gather his information. And Agent Asshole”—she chucked a pencil at Hunt—“hasn't come through on his promise for the tox screens.”

“I can't make them move any faster than I already did. Frankly, I seriously resent you calling me that, Deputy Rivers,” Hunt snarled from his corner. He'd joined them because he had spent the better part of the last thirty-eight hours with Sheriff Hamilton and the police chief, so he could fill in what the departments' combined efforts had learned about Walker's suicide. Which was zilch.

“If the shoe fits,” Cassy muttered from her position on the other side of Nic.

“Darlin', you don't get to agree with her,” Hunt retorted.

“Says who? I'm the perfect person to agree. I'm the one you screwed over.”

Con was mid-drink on his cooling coffee, and he choked at Cassy's blunt retort. Nic's sister had a pair. And by the flabbergasted expression on Agent Hunt's face, he hadn't expected her retort.

Ever the peacemaker, Con interjected, “Children, let's play nice.”

Both Hunt and Cassy looked like they wanted to tell him to suck a rotten egg, but neither spoke.

“What are we missing?” Nic pointed at the long sheet of paper she'd tacked to her dining room wall that they all were using as a case board.

Going the length of the paper, separated in columns, were the victim's names and the information that went with each of their cases. At the end was a big, fat question mark for the victims' suicide assistant and what little their quartet knew about him. They'd thrown out every speculation they could come up with, and rejected each scenario.

“This reference to The Priest bothers me,” Cassy said.

“Maybe it was a moniker Sheila Walker used in her emails with Seth Moore.”

“Or it was the way the killer referred to himself,” Con said and pushed out of his chair. He skirted the table, grabbed the marker, then circled the bullet point: a newcomer to Eider. “I think we're looking in the wrong place.” He jotted “The Priest” in quotes under the question mark. “Who do we know who's new to Eider?”

“That's going to have to be all you and Nic,” Cassy said. “Boyce and I aren't familiar with the people around here.”

Nic shoved the files away from her spot and grabbed a notepad. “We rule out the visitors for the Fall Festival. Some come every year, but they're not here long enough to establish personal relationships to the point they can convince someone to kill themselves.”

Twenty minutes later, after rejecting dozens of citizens who didn't fit the time frame of living in Eider in the last year or two, Con had a list of four names.

“Why do we even have Seth Moore on that list?” Cassy asked. “He's dead.”

Hunt tapped his chin with a pen. “Could be he started it and had a friend help him out until Moore crossed the line with his adultery with Sheila Walker.”

“That sounds too far-fetched. And what makes you think your junior deputy is capable of pulling off something like this?” Cassy pressed.

“Adam Jennings's arrival in Eider fits in our time frame. I hate to think he's the mastermind behind all of this, but the kid has the capability to pull it off. And he's been the one feeding us the information from the computers and such,” Nic said.

Con drummed the marker against the tabletop. “The junior deputy is too wet behind the ears. He trips over his words and can't hold his own in a fight.” He pointed at Nic. “You had to haul Doug off of him when they found out Sheila was cheating on Dusty.”

“We're talking about someone who can act and sweet-talk anyone into doing the unthinkable. Don't you think that Jennings could be pulling off the greatest show of his career?” Nic insisted.

“Someone that young?” Con shook his head. “I just can't see it.”

“Nic could be onto something. Age doesn't know any bounds, Detective. I've encountered cold-blooded teenagers who'd as soon shoot you as look at you.”

Cassy sighed. “Boyce is right, Con. I've arrested college students for some heinous things.”

“We're looking for someone who had close contact with all of these victims. Possibly using the church to get to them.” Nic jotted on her notepad as she spoke. “Jennings worked with Walker, who was a cousin to Dusty, so they could've met through Walker. Jennings could have spotted Sheila with Seth and put two and two together. He's a single guy who probably needed to let off some steam. Strip bar, Giselle, you get my drift, which leads back to Doug, who was there a lot.”

“
Pleóid air!
We're forgetting someone.”

“Who?”

He looked her right in the eye. “Patrick Keegan.”

“That, I find highly unlikely,” Nic said.

“The waiter who works for your mom at the Killdeer Pub?” Hunt asked.

With a nod, Con added Patrick's name to their list of newcomers. “He fits the demographic, Nic, and he's had close contact with all these people. And he's an avid visitor to the church. He wanted Sundays off for that very reason.”

“I've spent time with Patrick; he wouldn't hurt a flea,” Cassy said.

Nic scowled at her sister. “When have you spent time with Patrick?”

“The day before the festival started. He showed me around.”

“Why would he do that?” Nic demanded. She gave Cassy a hard stare that made Con want to squirm. Did Nic know something that her sister was trying to hide?

Con's gaze flicked to Agent Hunt, noting the man's thinly veiled look of warning directed at Cassy, who was turning a deep shade of red from all the attention suddenly directed her way. Oh, something was up, and Con's gut told him Hunt had a hand in it.

“Because, Nic, some people don't have a hidden agenda and are sociable.”

“Is that where you were the other day when you came home with a migraine? Having too much fun with Patrick?”

“Are you jealous? Think I'm stealing your li'l pal away from you?”

“Ladies,” Agent Hunt started to say.

“Up yours, Boyce.” Cassy punctuated her remark by flipping him off.

Con moved to interject. “Aye, that's enough. We can't rule out Patrick just because we think he's a great guy. He's been here longer than Jennings, but he's still new to Eider.”

“His job does put him in contact with everyone in town,” Nic mentioned. “Name me one person who hasn't been to the Killdeer Pub.”

“Is there anyone else? Two of the people on this list don't count,” Hunt said.

• • •

Nic stared at their work, trying to shift through the faces of the people she knew in McIntire County. It was a small county, but there were a lot of people here.

“What about the other towns in the county?” Cassy asked.

“I think we can safely say we're casting our net too wide if we go too far from Eider,” Hunt said.

Especially if that person was stalking Nic. Whoever came after her had to have been nearby, because they made damn sure there wasn't a trace of the attack left behind. And that made Nic burn. Cassy had saddled Nic's gray gelding, Ash, and went out to the place where Nic had been attacked, searching for the missing Sig. Her sister couldn't find any trace of it or that there had been anyone but Nic out there last night. She couldn't even find the casing from the single fired shot, nor where the bullet had gone.

Nic scribbled a cross at the corner of the notepad, cutting deep into the paper. The only thing left was the branch that had bashed into her. Someone had been out there, watching and waiting for an opportunity to get at Nic. And she'd walked right into the net, giving them a chance to mess with her head. She was furious with herself for letting her emotions get the best of her and waylaying her common sense. She never should have gone out there alone.

“I can't think of anyone else.” Con capped the marker and tossed it onto the table. “Now, how do we prove it was either Jennings or Patrick?”

“Or disprove,” Cassy chimed in. “Innocent until proven guilty, remember.”

“A load of steaming horse poo.” Hunt slapped his portfolio shut. “I need something to eat.” He headed into the kitchen.

“I think we all need a break.” Con followed him out.

Cassy, however, fidgeted with the edges of her notepad, staring at the empty place where Hunt had been seated.

“Whatever he did, was it so bad that he earned your nasty temper?”

Cassy's gaze slid to Nic, then back to the vacated seat. “I had my heart trampled over in his quest to get that promotion. Whaddya think, sis?”

Pushing to her feet, Nic leaned forward to catch her sister's eye again. “I think Agent Asshole needs a dose of his own medicine.” She winked at Cassy and then left the dining room.

Both men were rummaging through her kitchen.

“What do you have to eat in this place?” Con whipped open the side-by-side fridge doors and stared at the contents inside. “Oooh, pancakes.” He pulled the container out and peeled the lid off. “Chocolate pancakes.” His gaze flicked to Nic, and a gleam filled his eyes. She stiffened. If she had to take a guess at what was going through his head, it would be the conversation they joked about that morning. One that involved whipped cream.

Swallowing hard, Nic grabbed the container out of his hand. “These are mine. Not yours.”

With a mock salute, he retrieved another container out of the fridge.

Nic turned to the cabinet where the plates were stored and caught Cassy's upraised eyebrows. Ignoring her sister, Nic prepped her plate to heat in the microwave. She hadn't said anything to Cassy about what was going on between her and Con, and right now, she wanted to keep their relationship—if it could be called that—under wraps.

Con's musky scent coiled around her and brought to mind the feel of his flesh against hers. She bit her lip and glanced up. He bumped her shoulder and leaned down until his face was inches from hers. Every nerve in her body was fully aware of him, eager for his touch. Her eyelids fluttered as he came closer. Softy, he placed a kiss to her forehead.

His tender gesture mended a broken piece of her soul and cracked one of the seals she'd put over her heart. In the course of a few days he'd done something she never expected any man to be capable of doing: he showed her it was possible to change her life.

Reaching up, she caressed his cheek and pressed her forehead to his, then kissed him. Drawing back, she gave him a fleeting smile and then picked up her plate. When she turned to open the microwave door she froze.

Cassy gaped, her mouth actually hanging open. Agent Hunt shook his head and walked away. Well, so much for keeping it under wraps. Man, her hormones were off the charts.

“What?” she barked.

Cassy's mouth clapped shut, and she crossed her arms. “How long have you been hiding this from everyone?”

“Oops,” Con whispered behind her.

Shaking her head, Nic shoved her plate into the microwave and punched the minute button.

A hard knock on the door stopped Cassy's next retort. Who would be out there? The sheriff wouldn't come out here, not now and not with so much media attention on the town after yesterday's events. Jennings, maybe.

Nic's body went cold as she realized what they had posted on the wall in her dining room. If it was Jennings, he couldn't be allowed back there.

“Want me to answer it?” Agent Hunt asked.

“Uh, yeah.” Nic braced for whoever was on the other side of the door.