Read Online Out of the Shadows by Kay Hooper - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Kay Hooper
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was seldom seen in public without him, and Alex couldn't recall hearing her say much more than hello and goodbye, with an occasional Praise the Lord or Amen thrown in at appropriate pauses in Justin's oratory.
"As a matter of fact," Alex went on, "didn't you use to open up your car lot on Sundays before you retired and sold out?"
"I saw the error of my ways," Justin declared piously, his face reddening. "And now I'm commanded by the Lord to guide the others of his flock toward the light of salvation!"
Alex almost gave that one an Amen himself. He always appreciated a good dramatic performance.
Gravely, Liz said, "Can I get you two some coffee, Justin? Purely on the house, you understand—not a business transaction."
He leaned across the counter, eyes intent on her face. "Elizabeth, I will place your feet upon a godly path. You must not be allowed to follow the evil way. A good woman such as you should have an honored place in the house of our Lord."
Normally Alex was patient with Justin's excesses, but with the memory of poor little Lynet's battered body vivid in his mind, he snapped. "Justin, if you want to seek out evil, you might begin with whoever killed our teenagers. I'd think that would be a damned sight more important to any god than whether Liz should sell coffee and books on Sunday!"
Justin made a choked sound, then turned away. Selena, out of long practice, skipped nimbly aside, then shadowed him faithfully as he stalked out of the store.
"I don't like that man," Alex said.
"But you shouldn't have said that, Alex. You know he'll go straight to the mayor."
"Oh, don't worry about it. Right now, even the mayor has more to worry about than Justin Marsh's ruffled feathers."
* * *
Sharon Edwards stripped off her rubber gloves and looked across the table at Peter Shepherd. "No question about it."
Shepherd grunted. "I don't get it," he said. "What would be the point?"
"We'll add that to our list of questions to ask this lunatic when we catch him. In the meantime, if you'll box up all the slides and tissue samples, I'll get started on the report for the sheriff."
* * *
"Six and a half years ago," Miranda repeated numbly. "But... there was nothing about it on the news."
"Not the national news, no. Coincidentally, a far more famous killer was captured that week—a mass murderer out in Texas—and he got all the national media attention."
"I checked NCIC," Miranda protested. "As soon as I joined the Sheriff's Department here and had access, I checked every month to see if he'd been caught."
"I'm sorry," Bishop said. "Some inside the Bureau were convinced Harrison had a partner, that one man couldn't have done everything he'd confessed to doing. The decision was made to keep the case file open, to list him as at large to make certain any similar crimes would send up a flag."
"But how could they do that unless—" She sat back down in her chair. "He's dead?"
Bishop nodded.
"You?"
"Yes."
She was, on some level, surprised to feel so little about the death of Lewis Harrison. For so long, he had been a part of her life, a continual threat, the monster hiding in the closet ready to spring out when darkness came.
She doubted there had been a single night in the last eight years that she had not thought of him in the instant before she turned off her bedside lamp. As for Bonnie, the poor kid still had nightmares, horrible ones. Not so often now, but it was clear she had forgotten nothing of terror.
Miranda couldn't help but wonder how her life might have been different if she'd known Lewis Harrison could never take anything away from her ever again.
What would have changed?
"I wanted to tell you, Miranda. I tried to find you."
"I didn't want to be found," she murmured.
"That became obvious sooner rather than later. Not even FBI resources can locate an angry psychic if she doesn't want to be found."
Miranda didn't explain the methods she had used to start her life over again, though she
"As a matter of fact," Alex went on, "didn't you use to open up your car lot on Sundays before you retired and sold out?"
"I saw the error of my ways," Justin declared piously, his face reddening. "And now I'm commanded by the Lord to guide the others of his flock toward the light of salvation!"
Alex almost gave that one an Amen himself. He always appreciated a good dramatic performance.
Gravely, Liz said, "Can I get you two some coffee, Justin? Purely on the house, you understand—not a business transaction."
He leaned across the counter, eyes intent on her face. "Elizabeth, I will place your feet upon a godly path. You must not be allowed to follow the evil way. A good woman such as you should have an honored place in the house of our Lord."
Normally Alex was patient with Justin's excesses, but with the memory of poor little Lynet's battered body vivid in his mind, he snapped. "Justin, if you want to seek out evil, you might begin with whoever killed our teenagers. I'd think that would be a damned sight more important to any god than whether Liz should sell coffee and books on Sunday!"
Justin made a choked sound, then turned away. Selena, out of long practice, skipped nimbly aside, then shadowed him faithfully as he stalked out of the store.
"I don't like that man," Alex said.
"But you shouldn't have said that, Alex. You know he'll go straight to the mayor."
"Oh, don't worry about it. Right now, even the mayor has more to worry about than Justin Marsh's ruffled feathers."
* * *
Sharon Edwards stripped off her rubber gloves and looked across the table at Peter Shepherd. "No question about it."
Shepherd grunted. "I don't get it," he said. "What would be the point?"
"We'll add that to our list of questions to ask this lunatic when we catch him. In the meantime, if you'll box up all the slides and tissue samples, I'll get started on the report for the sheriff."
* * *
"Six and a half years ago," Miranda repeated numbly. "But... there was nothing about it on the news."
"Not the national news, no. Coincidentally, a far more famous killer was captured that week—a mass murderer out in Texas—and he got all the national media attention."
"I checked NCIC," Miranda protested. "As soon as I joined the Sheriff's Department here and had access, I checked every month to see if he'd been caught."
"I'm sorry," Bishop said. "Some inside the Bureau were convinced Harrison had a partner, that one man couldn't have done everything he'd confessed to doing. The decision was made to keep the case file open, to list him as at large to make certain any similar crimes would send up a flag."
"But how could they do that unless—" She sat back down in her chair. "He's dead?"
Bishop nodded.
"You?"
"Yes."
She was, on some level, surprised to feel so little about the death of Lewis Harrison. For so long, he had been a part of her life, a continual threat, the monster hiding in the closet ready to spring out when darkness came.
She doubted there had been a single night in the last eight years that she had not thought of him in the instant before she turned off her bedside lamp. As for Bonnie, the poor kid still had nightmares, horrible ones. Not so often now, but it was clear she had forgotten nothing of terror.
Miranda couldn't help but wonder how her life might have been different if she'd known Lewis Harrison could never take anything away from her ever again.
What would have changed?
"I wanted to tell you, Miranda. I tried to find you."
"I didn't want to be found," she murmured.
"That became obvious sooner rather than later. Not even FBI resources can locate an angry psychic if she doesn't want to be found."
Miranda didn't explain the methods she had used to start her life over again, though she
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