knowledge.”
He pressed his finger and thumb against his eyes and turned away to look out the window.
“So what do we do?”
“The problem is that something like this isn’t going to be confined to Bloody Mary, or even King George County for that matter. I did a little research while you were asleep. The state of Virginia has one of the largest and most active chapters in the entire nation. Reverend Oglesby’s body was found in King George Proper, not Bloody Mary, but the road where they parked their vehicle and carried his body through the woods was in Bloody Mary. There’s no telling how many people are involved in this.”
“Where do we even start?”
“In the few articles I found about membership, you have a better chance of being accepted into the organization if you have a family member sponsor you. So I’m going to be looking at the oldest families first, and then narrow it down by those who have sons and grandsons still living in the area. I’ll need to reach out to the sheriffs in the other counties and see if we can find any like crimes.”
I was listening with one ear to Jack while reading the printouts he’d made of all the information he could find in such a short period of time.
“Jack, according to everything I’ve read, these people think they’re sanctioned by the church. It’s part of their religion to wipe out the unclean.”
“Yeah, I saw that,” he said, eyes hardening.
“So the question is, why was Reverend Oglesby a target? He doesn’t represent the kind of victim they’d normally look for. White male. Man of the cloth. A leader in the church.”
“That’s a question we’ll need to find out the answer to. I think we need to pay another visit to Reverend Thomas and Lorna Dewberry. They know something.”
Chapter Eight
The church was deserted when we pulled back in the lot, but Johnny Duggan was hunched over the flowerbeds, trimming the hedges in a pair of overalls that had grass stains from ankles to armpits. Johnny had been the unfortunate soul who’d found Fiona Murphy’s body last winter by the side of the road. He’d aged what looked like a hundred years since then.
He turned toward us when we pulled into the church lot and tossed his hedge trimmers onto one of the bags of mulch he had laid out in a straight line. He held up a hand in greeting and waited for us to come over.
“Morning, Sheriff,” Johnny said. “Doc Graves. Good to have you home.”
My eyes stung a little because he sounded like he meant it, and I all could do was nod back. Johnny had been a contemporary of my grandparents, but he’d watched my dad grow up from infancy, and he’d been devastated when my parents had died. He’d been one of the only people to seek me out and tell me to my face he didn’t think my parents had been guilty of the charges the FBI were laying at their feet. Too bad he’d been wrong about that. I’d found all the proof I needed hidden away in an underground cellar at their cabin. But Johnny had never judged me for my father’s sins, and I knew when the latest info about my parents’ activities broke in the news that he still wouldn’t blame me.
“Morning, Johnny,” Jack said. “Nice looking flowers you’ve got there.”
“Got ‘em from the nursery over in Fredricksburg. They have their own greenhouses, and they don’t use chemicals. Ms. Dewberry thinks it’s important for the church to be anti-chemical.”
I coughed and turned my head so I wouldn’t burst into laughter at the look on Johnny’s face at the mention of Lorna Dewberry. It was obvious he didn’t hold her opinions in high regard.
“We’re here to see the Reverend and Ms. Dewberry,” Jack said. “Are they in the rectory or inside the church?”
“I heard you was already here this morning,” he said, scratching the silver whiskers on his chin. “Ms. Dewberry was fit to be tied that her morning schedule was off, but the Reverend calmed her down right
He pressed his finger and thumb against his eyes and turned away to look out the window.
“So what do we do?”
“The problem is that something like this isn’t going to be confined to Bloody Mary, or even King George County for that matter. I did a little research while you were asleep. The state of Virginia has one of the largest and most active chapters in the entire nation. Reverend Oglesby’s body was found in King George Proper, not Bloody Mary, but the road where they parked their vehicle and carried his body through the woods was in Bloody Mary. There’s no telling how many people are involved in this.”
“Where do we even start?”
“In the few articles I found about membership, you have a better chance of being accepted into the organization if you have a family member sponsor you. So I’m going to be looking at the oldest families first, and then narrow it down by those who have sons and grandsons still living in the area. I’ll need to reach out to the sheriffs in the other counties and see if we can find any like crimes.”
I was listening with one ear to Jack while reading the printouts he’d made of all the information he could find in such a short period of time.
“Jack, according to everything I’ve read, these people think they’re sanctioned by the church. It’s part of their religion to wipe out the unclean.”
“Yeah, I saw that,” he said, eyes hardening.
“So the question is, why was Reverend Oglesby a target? He doesn’t represent the kind of victim they’d normally look for. White male. Man of the cloth. A leader in the church.”
“That’s a question we’ll need to find out the answer to. I think we need to pay another visit to Reverend Thomas and Lorna Dewberry. They know something.”
Chapter Eight
The church was deserted when we pulled back in the lot, but Johnny Duggan was hunched over the flowerbeds, trimming the hedges in a pair of overalls that had grass stains from ankles to armpits. Johnny had been the unfortunate soul who’d found Fiona Murphy’s body last winter by the side of the road. He’d aged what looked like a hundred years since then.
He turned toward us when we pulled into the church lot and tossed his hedge trimmers onto one of the bags of mulch he had laid out in a straight line. He held up a hand in greeting and waited for us to come over.
“Morning, Sheriff,” Johnny said. “Doc Graves. Good to have you home.”
My eyes stung a little because he sounded like he meant it, and I all could do was nod back. Johnny had been a contemporary of my grandparents, but he’d watched my dad grow up from infancy, and he’d been devastated when my parents had died. He’d been one of the only people to seek me out and tell me to my face he didn’t think my parents had been guilty of the charges the FBI were laying at their feet. Too bad he’d been wrong about that. I’d found all the proof I needed hidden away in an underground cellar at their cabin. But Johnny had never judged me for my father’s sins, and I knew when the latest info about my parents’ activities broke in the news that he still wouldn’t blame me.
“Morning, Johnny,” Jack said. “Nice looking flowers you’ve got there.”
“Got ‘em from the nursery over in Fredricksburg. They have their own greenhouses, and they don’t use chemicals. Ms. Dewberry thinks it’s important for the church to be anti-chemical.”
I coughed and turned my head so I wouldn’t burst into laughter at the look on Johnny’s face at the mention of Lorna Dewberry. It was obvious he didn’t hold her opinions in high regard.
“We’re here to see the Reverend and Ms. Dewberry,” Jack said. “Are they in the rectory or inside the church?”
“I heard you was already here this morning,” he said, scratching the silver whiskers on his chin. “Ms. Dewberry was fit to be tied that her morning schedule was off, but the Reverend calmed her down right
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