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Authors: Debbie Viguié
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who might know.”
“I think you're right.” He looked back down at the dead man. “We've got to catch this guy before he kills again.”
Paul gestured to the building across the street. “I'll head over in a little bit and find out from the management which of the rooms facing this direction are occupied tonight.”
“Maybe somebody saw or heard something,” Mark agreed. “At least, let's hope so.”
6
C INDY AWOKE TO A KNOCK ON THE DOOR OF HER ROOM. SHE GLANCED at the clock on the nightstand and saw that it was just after six-thirty.
“Just a minute!” she called.
She got up, threw her clothes on, and opened the door with a yawn. There in the hallway stood the detective from the day before. He looked almost as surprised to see her as she was to see him.
“Well, Ms. Preston, funny seeing you here. Where's your Good Samaritan?” he asked, glancing over her shoulder.
“Not here, if that's what your suggesting,” she said, flushing angrily.
“May I come in?”
She stepped back, and he walked inside. He headed straight for the window and threw open the curtains, making a clucking sound as he did so.
She stepped away from the door, but left it open. She had no desire to be closed in with the man, even if he was a detective. Questions crowded her brain as she tried to figure out what he was doing here.
“Interesting view,” he noted.
“The church looked nice,” she said.
“Not as nice as it was.”
Curious, she stepped forward, but he turned and faced her, and she stopped halfway to the window.
“So, you checked in here last night?”
“Yes.”
“What time?”
“Around eight-thirty.”
“Did you look out this window?”
“Yes, why?”
He ignored her question and pushed on. “Did you see anything unusual?”
“No.”
“Did you hear anything unusual last night?”
“No, what's going on?”
“See for yourself,” he said, motioning to the window.
Cindy approached, keeping one eye on him. Finally, she reached the window and looked down. There were half a dozen squad cars in the street in front of the church and the check-cashing place. Police officers were walking around the area and talking to people. Then she saw the body on the lawn being loaded into a black bag.
She jumped backwards with a cry and nearly collided with the detective. He put a hand on her arm.
“Now are you sure you didn't see or hear anything last night?”
“Nothing,” she said, shaking her head.
“Then perhaps you'd like to explain why you were staying here last night, and why there's a killer running around who likes to leave bodies where you'll see them?
Tears streamed down her face. “I don't know.”
“Why didn't you sleep at home last night?” he demanded.
“I was too scared.”
“Of what?”
She turned to look at him. “Jeremiah and I were talking about it last night, and I realized that the only Shepherd who has a key to the sanctuary is Harold Grey. He's my landlord. He has a key to my house, and he was in there yesterday when I left the church in the morning.”
He glared at her and said through gritted teeth, “What part of 'call me if you think of anything' didn't you understand?”
She started to cry in earnest. “It couldn't be Harold; he's a sweet man.”
“Yet, you were so afraid that you felt the need to check into a hotel for the night. And now, right beneath your nose, someone else has been murdered.”
Cindy pulled away and sat down on the bed, burying her face in her hands. It was all too terrible to believe. Could both bodies really have been left for her to see? Who would do something like that?
“Cindy, do you have any enemies?”
She looked up at him. “No.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive.”
“Then what can you tell me about this Harold Grey?”
“He's been a member of the church for years and years. He's retired. He's the head usher, which is why he has a key to the sanctuary, and he's a Shepherd. He owns a couple of houses in the area, and
“I think you're right.” He looked back down at the dead man. “We've got to catch this guy before he kills again.”
Paul gestured to the building across the street. “I'll head over in a little bit and find out from the management which of the rooms facing this direction are occupied tonight.”
“Maybe somebody saw or heard something,” Mark agreed. “At least, let's hope so.”
6
C INDY AWOKE TO A KNOCK ON THE DOOR OF HER ROOM. SHE GLANCED at the clock on the nightstand and saw that it was just after six-thirty.
“Just a minute!” she called.
She got up, threw her clothes on, and opened the door with a yawn. There in the hallway stood the detective from the day before. He looked almost as surprised to see her as she was to see him.
“Well, Ms. Preston, funny seeing you here. Where's your Good Samaritan?” he asked, glancing over her shoulder.
“Not here, if that's what your suggesting,” she said, flushing angrily.
“May I come in?”
She stepped back, and he walked inside. He headed straight for the window and threw open the curtains, making a clucking sound as he did so.
She stepped away from the door, but left it open. She had no desire to be closed in with the man, even if he was a detective. Questions crowded her brain as she tried to figure out what he was doing here.
“Interesting view,” he noted.
“The church looked nice,” she said.
“Not as nice as it was.”
Curious, she stepped forward, but he turned and faced her, and she stopped halfway to the window.
“So, you checked in here last night?”
“Yes.”
“What time?”
“Around eight-thirty.”
“Did you look out this window?”
“Yes, why?”
He ignored her question and pushed on. “Did you see anything unusual?”
“No.”
“Did you hear anything unusual last night?”
“No, what's going on?”
“See for yourself,” he said, motioning to the window.
Cindy approached, keeping one eye on him. Finally, she reached the window and looked down. There were half a dozen squad cars in the street in front of the church and the check-cashing place. Police officers were walking around the area and talking to people. Then she saw the body on the lawn being loaded into a black bag.
She jumped backwards with a cry and nearly collided with the detective. He put a hand on her arm.
“Now are you sure you didn't see or hear anything last night?”
“Nothing,” she said, shaking her head.
“Then perhaps you'd like to explain why you were staying here last night, and why there's a killer running around who likes to leave bodies where you'll see them?
Tears streamed down her face. “I don't know.”
“Why didn't you sleep at home last night?” he demanded.
“I was too scared.”
“Of what?”
She turned to look at him. “Jeremiah and I were talking about it last night, and I realized that the only Shepherd who has a key to the sanctuary is Harold Grey. He's my landlord. He has a key to my house, and he was in there yesterday when I left the church in the morning.”
He glared at her and said through gritted teeth, “What part of 'call me if you think of anything' didn't you understand?”
She started to cry in earnest. “It couldn't be Harold; he's a sweet man.”
“Yet, you were so afraid that you felt the need to check into a hotel for the night. And now, right beneath your nose, someone else has been murdered.”
Cindy pulled away and sat down on the bed, burying her face in her hands. It was all too terrible to believe. Could both bodies really have been left for her to see? Who would do something like that?
“Cindy, do you have any enemies?”
She looked up at him. “No.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive.”
“Then what can you tell me about this Harold Grey?”
“He's been a member of the church for years and years. He's retired. He's the head usher, which is why he has a key to the sanctuary, and he's a Shepherd. He owns a couple of houses in the area, and
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