Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 108849 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 363(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108849 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 363(@300wpm)
She pulled down the long drive of the Genesis Valley Community Church, unsurprised to see two vans overloaded with heavy equipment and satellites parked near the front. Their father planned a megachurch, no doubt, so he could make millions. She appreciated his quest for money because with money came power, or at least freedom. Yet, he deserved neither.
She drove halfway down the drive and pulled over to see him emerge from the church and check the vans, shaking hands with the men who stepped out. It was quite unfortunate he hadn’t died when she’d repeatedly stabbed him last month. She had had him close to meeting his maker when Laurel had intervened and saved his life. That was one wrong for which Laurel should pay. How could she have saved that bastard?
Abigail shook her head.
As if sensing he was being watched, her father looked up and spotted her. An expression crossed his face that she couldn’t quite read. He said something to the men and then walked toward her, wearing a heavy down jacket that no doubt protected his chilly heart from the even colder wind. His bald head had to be freezing, however.
She took great pleasure in the thought and rolled down her window.
He arrived while the men behind him unpacked the many satellite dishes. “Abigail, what are you doing here?”
She smiled. “I’m checking on things. I know what you’re up to.”
He looked back at the workers. “Yes, I’m going to save souls across this great land of ours.”
“Oh, please. You don’t care about souls; you care about coffers.”
He smiled, and an unwilling chill wandered down her back. “Don’t forget I can always suddenly remember who tried to murder me a short time ago.”
She waved a hand in the air. “I wouldn’t, but you feel free to do what you must.”
“I always do.” His chin lowered.
She looked away. “I’ve been keeping an eye on my sister and her friends. What a coincidence it is that Walter Smudgeon and Ena Ilemeto won a two-week trip to the Caribbean.”
“Did they?” Zeke asked. “I know the church had a raffle, but I was unaware who won. I don’t handle that kind of thing any longer. Pastor John would be the person to talk to, and I believe you have his phone number.”
“I surely do,” Abigail said. “Yet today, Nester Lewis, Laurel’s genius computer guru, rushed off to Seattle. Apparently, a truck barreled into his sister during her morning jog.
Zeke’s eyes widened. “That’s horrible. I will certainly add her to my prayers.”
“You’re attempting to isolate Laurel,” Abigail said. The idea of Zeke driving to Seattle and running over the computer genius’s sister showed impressive dedication. “She won’t turn to you even if she’s all alone. You need to understand that salient fact.”
Zeke wiped rain off his head. “My dear daughter, the imagination you have. I had nothing to do with the raffle, and I certainly haven’t been to Seattle to hit anybody with a truck.”
She hadn’t been keeping a close enough eye on him. “We’ll see about that. I’m not a big believer in coincidences.”
“Neither am I.” Zeke stepped away from her vehicle. “However, like many of my parishioners, I am a big believer in fate.”
* * *
After a shitty day, darkness without any moon pushed against her home’s windows as if trying to get inside. Teri Bearing finished the last drop of inexpensive sparkling blush wine, her head swimming and irritation filling her every pore. Her husband was such a complete asshole. It wasn’t her fault she’d gotten pulled over two nights before. It had been the officer’s fault. He’d been a complete dick, just wanting to make some point about her, and maybe get his name in the paper.
Pushing away the bottle, she walked over to her wine rack to find it empty. She had stayed at home by herself, hiding away from reporters who’d staked out her front lawn until finally they’d given up and gone away. That was lucky—she couldn’t have anyone following her tonight.
That hag, Rachel Raprenzi, had taken delight in streaming The Killing Hour with images and actual recordings of the arrest. Rachel had caught Teri actually assaulting that stupid Fish and Wildlife officer.
Her youngest son was staying the night with a friend, and she’d told Saul she had made plans to spend a couple days at a spa in Seattle. He’d stormed out at the news. No doubt he was out playing poker and getting drunk. He had no right to be so angry with her. He’d barely spoken to her since he’d bailed her out. She could not believe this.
It would be a true pleasure making that Fish and Wildlife officer’s life a living hell, but that joy would have to wait. Tonight, she needed companionship. Love. Adoration. Maybe some fucking fun in the snow. She’d dressed carefully, showing her best attributes. Her pants were pressed, pink linen and her sweater white cashmere. She wore pearls in her ears and at her throat because she was the mayor’s wife, damn it. They’d regret hurting her like this. All of them.