He rose, pulling on his clothes. “Breakfast?”

  She glanced at the clock. “Where did the time go? But it’s too early for breakfast, isn’t it?”

  “Well, then, dinner?”

  She only had to think for a second or two. “Breakfast,” she decided. “But where are you going to find it?”

  “Hasty’s Diner at the truck stop. When I get back, I’ll give the dogs a short walk.”

  “I can do that,” she answered, rising into the cool night air.”

  “Then I’m off.”

  The house felt so empty when he left. Jenna sighed, her mind trying to remember every single instant of their hurried lovemaking, to engrave it in the forefront of her mind, a barrier to the past.

  Both Bradley and Misty were eager to get out into the yard. Because of Bradley, Jenna let Misty go unleashed. She’d seen Kell tell his K-9 to stay on guard. That was almost as good as having Kell here.

  But as she stood in the chilly night air, wrapped in her jacket, she felt the shadows around her darkening. Threats permeated the night, though not threats against her.

  Unless you counted that brief note.

  Don’t interfere.

  The accompanying letter from Celia made the reference clear, but what would the writer do if he felt they were interfering?

  That alone was cause for worry. Looking around, she felt old fears resurge. The night had always held the worst threats in the war. And later to her rape and the threats made against her after her charge was laid.

  She shivered and called the dogs. They came immediately, and she was glad to close the door behind her. To shut out the night.

  She gave both dogs some biscuits and watched them gobble the treats down and head for the water bowl. Simple needs. She wished hers were as simple.

  Although, she’d just satisfied a simple need that had become another threat to her. Despite everything, a smile came to her face and lingered. Kell.

  She’d been fortunate enough to meet a marvelous man when she hadn’t wanted one at all. She ought to be grateful rather than fearful now.

  Inevitably, however, her thoughts returned to Celia’s letter and to the Mixon question. Ghastly. For some things, there could be no forgiveness.

  She didn’t doubt that Bund had parlayed his authority as a pastor to carry out his appalling deeds. Did that make it worse? Could anything make pedophilia worse?

  In most cases, an authority figure was involved in taking advantage of a child. Maybe it was worse in the case of a religious leader because of where they supposedly stood in the moral hierarchy. Others used other kinds of authority. And then there were threats and terror.

  But in the end, weren’t they all the same?

  She was relieved when she heard Kell return. Her thoughts were spiraling again and getting her nowhere useful. Unless they could find a way to get at Bund, he’d continue. There might even now be another child he was molesting.

  Kell came in carrying bags. “Hasty’s the fastest short-order cook in this county. Also, about the best. Anyway, we’ve got scrambled eggs, sausage, home fries, some pancakes and hash browns. Not to mention cinnamon rolls and some Danish.”

  That list startled her. “Um, wow. That’s enough for half the town.”

  “Just eat what appeals to you. Since I didn’t ask, I wanted to make sure I got a variety.”

  He certainly had. The dogs, who had been watching with interest, now came over to sniff. Kell spread foam containers across the table and opened them. “Should I make coffee?”

  “If you expect me to eat anything sweet.”

  “Consider it done.” He went to the counter and started the coffee, then grabbed plates and utensils for them. As he returned to the table, he said, “I’ve been sharing my grub with Bradley for years. I suppose you don’t want me to get Misty into the habit of licking plates or eating tidbits.”

  “I’ve been doing it too, even though I doubt Aunt Bernice would appreciate it.”

  “Those begging eyes have won many a battle.”

  She smiled. Lord, that man made her want to smile. A pleasant shiver ran through her as she looked at him. Maybe she had some good luck after all.

  * * *

  KELL FELT GOOD watching Jenna eat, this time with evident hunger and enjoyment. One battle won, at least temporarily.

  He understood her reaction to learning that Bund was even worse than they had suspected. Bund certainly had a motive for murder.

  After finishing a roll, Jenna got herself some fresh coffee. “You?” she asked Kell, holding up the pot in his direction.

  “Please.”

  But then they sat face-to-face again and he watched the change come over her. She was thinking about Celia and the Mixon girl again.

  “Kell?”

  “Hmm?” He braced himself, afraid he might see her sink into the pit again.

  “We’ve got to get that man as soon as possible. What if he goes after Deborah Mixon and her daughter? What if I’m responsible for them getting murdered?”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Kell left the food on the table, not caring if the dogs got into it. He picked Jenna up and carried her to bed. She wore flannel pajamas, so it was easy to tuck her under the covers. He took less than a minute to strip and join her.

  Then he hugged her tight, having no other answer to her question. God, he had to find a way to put an end to this nightmare. Soon. As fast as possible.

  But with Bund behind the walls of his faithful, he couldn’t think of a way. Regardless, suspicious as they were, they couldn’t be sure Bund was the murderer. It was all circumstantial.

  Deborah Mixon and her daughter had remained silent all this time. Why would Bund even suspect they had talked or might talk?

  And how could Bund arrange visits to the Mixons now? Unlike Zeb and Hassen, who had remained members of his church, the Mixons had clearly left months ago.

  Unless someone had given Bund the idea. But who would be foolhardy enough to plant that kind of seed?

  When the morning began to creep into the house, Kell was still holding Jenna as close as he could. At last, she had fallen asleep.

  Sleep eluded him but he hardly noticed. He’d gone without sleep on countless occasions. One night would hardly make a difference.

  * * *

  THE PHONE CALL came as the sun was rising. Deborah Mixon answered it. Since Vince had told her he’d take care of the matter, Deborah had been living on tenterhooks, grabbing the phone every time it rang. She knew Bund was still out there. That whole damn cult was still out there. And Bund had the photos. He could ruin her daughter’s life forever.

  God, she wished she’d never let that woman cross her threshold. Only Jenna Blair’s obvious distress, her ashen face, had caused Deborah to act out of sympathy. Even when she said she’d suffered the same experience.

  Oh sweet Lord, she hadn’t even been able to get counseling for her daughter. Hadn’t been able in any way to let the story creep out. Her heart was broken. Each day, in every way, she failed the girl even though she appeared to have mostly recovered.

  But Deborah wasn’t sure how deep that recovery went, and she knew Bund’s actions would plague Leah for the rest of her days. Some scars never went away. They only got easier to live with.

  But that now familiar voice greeted her. She didn’t know whether to be glad or not. She lived in the constant fear that another bad thing was about to happen.

  “Vince,” she replied, now wide awake, sitting on the edge of her bed.

  “I want you and your daughter to leave town for a while.”

  Deborah’s heart nearly stopped. “Why?” she whispered.

  “Two people are poking the hornet’s nest. I can’t stop them. I’m not even sure anymore that I want to. So pack your bags and take a trip. Anywhere. Don’t tell anyone; just go. I’ll wire extra money to cover it.”

  When she didn’t answer, he said, sounding like steel, “Promise me, Deborah. One way or another, matters are coming to a head, and I want you and Leah out of the way. Promise.”

  “I promise.”

  “Get going.”

  Click.

  Deborah stared at her phone as it beeped, the red sign telling her the call had been disconnected. She rose and got started.

  * * *

  AT THE CHURCH of the Well-Lived, one woman stood staring out a window at the brightening day. She lived in constant anxiety now. It was wearing her down.

  But she’d done it. Although she’d been forbidden to do it, a few months ago she’d answered the phone at the Hassen house because it rang so persistently. When that voice over the phone had promised money for information, she hadn’t been able to resist. She wanted to flee, but the voice had told her not to, or all that money would disappear. Her escape money, the only money she had in the whole world. Sitting in an account she couldn’t access unless he told her how.

  She’d been at Lydia Hassen’s house, doing her frequent task of caring for the woman, increasingly hoping that she wouldn’t spend her last days the way Miss Hassen was. Cared for, to be sure, but otherwise friendless except for the visits by Pastor Bund.

  Pastor Satan.

  And then the voice, the promise.

  She’d guessed why the Mixons had fled in the dark of night. She suspected many had guessed, but none had spoken. Spoken of what? None knew for sure, and only Eliza had believed it was possible. For that reason she had stayed silent.

  But the man who had phoned had only wanted to know about the Mixons. He’d heard they left the church and wanted her to tell him why.

  She’d voiced her suspicion then. Desperate to get it off her chest, where it weighed as heavily as a boulder, she was relieved when she did.

  But now she had to wonder what would happen if Bund found out. The possibilities that began to fill her mind were scary. The man had total control of the lives here.

  Only when the Mixons fled with nothing did she begin to doubt her devotion. Those doubts had grown like a seed taking root, wrapping tightly around her heart until it fractured.

  She began to see herself as a woman who’d been terribly deluded. She vowed to never again be deluded in this way.

  But vows weren’t getting her out of this mess.

  * * *

  GAGE DALTON WASN’T sleeping well. Since Celia’s letter. Since the information about the Mixons. His hands were tied by the law, but for once, he hated the law.

  Emma, his wife, had begun to fuss over him.

  “It’s the pain,” he’d said. “It’ll go away. It always gets better.” Pain, the signature note of his life, brought on by a car bomb that had killed his first wife and his small children, a bomb intended for him while he’d been undercover for the DEA.

  The loss had torn him up. The pain of the burns and injuries seemed like a small price to pay for what he had brought on his family.

  But then he’d met Emma, and rays of happiness had broken through the cold, dark hell he had lived in. She brought him back to life.

  And now she was worried. He hated that.

  “The doctor should be able to give you something,” she had argued more than once.

  And more than once, he’d answered, “Not these days. Anyway, I couldn’t work if I was drowsy.”

  “Then retire, damn it!”

  His burn-scarred face had quirked into his half smile. “She still won’t be able to prescribe anything. Relax, darlin’. I always get better.”

  He was sure she hadn’t relaxed, but she didn’t keep pressing him.

  So he stood staring out at the brightening day after another restless night. Maybe he should try to sleep in Justin’s old room so he wouldn’t disturb Emma. Their son had long since moved on to a life elsewhere. They’d kept the bedroom for when he and his wife visited, but it could double as a bolt-hole. Or as could any of the rooms in this big old house. Emma had once rented out those rooms. Rented one to him.

  He sighed. God, there had to be a way.

  * * *

  ON THE EAST COAST SOMEWHERE, Vince stared at the phone. He’d gotten the Mixons out of the way of whatever might be coming. That was one good thing.

  The only good thing. That woman, Jenna Blair, and her friend, Kell McLaren, were still nosing around. Nothing overt, but he still had a few tentacles in that damn county. Blair and McLaren had taken the letter and his warning to the sheriff. He had gotten the measure of those two then. They wouldn’t let go. Another warning would be useless.

  He’d already warned Bund, though. Twice. The guy had to be sweating bullets. He wanted the man to sweat. Rattle his comfortable cage. And that was only the beginning.

  He’d planned to sweat the guy a while, then have him taken to pieces. Those two busybodies might beat him to the punch.

  Maybe he’d just let them run a while. Why not? They were bound by the law, but Vince wasn’t. He’d been on the wrong side of that particular street for a dozen years now.

  So he could let Bund keep sweating while he kept an eye on it.

  For now.

  The landline phone rang and he answered it. A familiar voice said, “Amigo.”

  “Carlos. How goes it?”

  “Muy bueno.”

  The shipment was on its way to its destination. Muy bueno indeed. The two of them chatted for a while about families and kids neither of them had, then disconnected.

  But then he stared at the phone again and thought about Celia. About how much he wanted payback.

  * * *

  IT WAS POSSIBLE, it was always possible, to find a way around obstacles, Kell thought as he and Jenna walked the dogs. “You know,” he said after a bit, “maybe we need to keep an eye out for Bund.”

  “How? He only ever came out of that compound to visit Zeb or Hassen.”

  “They’ve been emptying out Zeb’s house bit by bit. If they don’t find what they’re looking for, the man himself might show up.”

  “Then we attack him on the street?”

  Kell chuckled a bit. “No. But you remember what Gage said about making them antsy? Bradley could do a good job of that.”

  “To what end? Bund just goes back behind his walls.”

  “With something to worry about.”

  “And then?”

  “I’ll get to that. Soon, I hope.”

  Jenna sighed. “It’s an impossible situation.”

  “Nothing’s impossible. The only thing lacking is imagination. Cut your brain loose, Jenna. You’ve got a good one. Stop looking at the obstacles as insurmountable. We’ve both been guilty of that.”

  “Reluctantly, I admit you’re right.”

  “Only reluctantly?”

  She gave a quiet laugh. “I hate to be wrong.”

  “We’re not going to be wrong about this one. When we move, we’ll do it right.”

  * * *

  BY LATE THAT DAY, word had gotten around town that the Mixons had left early that morning. Chins wagged as people wondered if they’d taken advantage of Good Shepherd. But no. The people who’d seen them leaving said they only packed a couple of suitcases in the trunk. Must just be a trip, and didn’t they deserve to have a good time?

  Kell and Jenna heard about it from Barb as they were walking the dogs one final time for the day. When Barb waved them up to her porch, they joined her and the kids for some of her patented lemonade. Both dogs and kids were happy to romp on what the summer had left of the lawn.

  “You were curious about the Mixons,” Barb said while they sat on the webbed lawn chairs. “They left early this morning. Two suitcases, so folks figure they went on a vacation.”

  Kell and Jenna’s eyes met.

  “A few not-so-nice people think they just took advantage of Good Shepherd Church and moved on, like they did from that crazy compound.” She eyed them both. “I don’t think that’s true at all. If they’re running, and I’m not saying they are, they’re scared.”

  Without saying anything about the Mixons, Jenna and Kell carried on with casual chat about kids, dogs and Bernice. They stayed a while, then returned to the dog walk.

  “God, they must be afraid.” Jenna’s shoulders sagged. “I did that to them.”

  “You didn’t give them the reason they’re afraid in the first place.”

  “I didn’t need to go over there. I didn’t need to know.”

  “You needed to find out if our speculation was right. To know the magnitude of that man’s crimes. It was a real propellant, wasn’t it? It kicked us into high gear.”

  “I don’t see any high gear right now.”

  Neither did he, but he was damn well going to find one. Or she was. He was sure she was more inventive than she realized. All those times in a field hospital, she must have been inventive in her attempts to save lives. Some of the best advances in emergency medicine had come out of those hospitals.

  “You know,” he said presently, “if Bradley alerts to Bund...”

  “We’ll know he murdered Zeb?”

  “That’s my thought. One question answered.”

  “Then let’s start our search.”

  “I don’t want you there, Jenna. Because I don’t want him to recognize you if we need you to do something later.”

  He saw her jaw set stubbornly and waited for an argument. It never came. After a bit, she squared her shoulders. “You’re probably right.”

  * * *

  THEY MADE LOVE again that night. This time was slower, at first, a languorous, gentle pas de deux. He worshipped every bit of her with his hands, mouth and tongue, and she reciprocated with an abandon that delighted him.

  But then the tenor changed, becoming almost ferocious when they could dally no longer. It was a night Kell would never forget.