Steve cocked his head. "You threatened him too, didn’t you? I’ll bet you told him you’d sic Lonnie on him or his wife if he said a word. I’m right, aren’t I?"

"I did what I had to do to keep my boy out of jail."

"You know what everyone in town calls you? Sheriff Lard Ass. They’re laughing at you behind your back. If you want things to change, keep your mouth shut and do what I tell you to do. Then you can leave Holy Oaks and Lonnie, and never look back."

Lloyd was slowly tearing strips from the paper on the blotter. He kept his gaze averted when he asked, "You aren’t gonna tell Lonnie what I’m planning to do, are you? The boy thinks he’s gonna get a big cut of the money, and I want to be long gone before he figures out he ain’t getting a dime."

"I won’t tell him anything as long as you continue to cooperate. Do we understand each other? Now about this Buchanan-" Lloyd’s neck snapped back. "Who?"

Brenner’s hand clenched into a fist again with the intent of smashing it into Lloyd’s fat face, but he felt the sting in his knuckles this time, and glancing down, saw the bloodstains on his pant leg. Shit. He was going to have to change clothes again. Appearances had to be maintained, and he couldn’t stand to look the least bit imperfect.

"Never mind," he muttered as he strode to the bathroom in the back of the office to wash his hand.

Lloyd finally remembered who Buchanan was. "I still wish you’d let me go on back to Lauren’s house and have a talk with those friends. They could still be there."

Lloyd’s nasally whine was getting on Steve’s nerves. He didn’t have any patience for slow-witted people, and if the sheriff weren’t a necessary ingredient in his grand scheme, he would have taken great delight in beating the hell out of him. Better yet, he’d order Lonnie to do it for him while he watched. The boy would do whatever Steve told him to do because, like his father, he was motivated by greed and hate, and failure.

He finished washing, patted his hands dry with a paper towel then folded it neatly into a perfect square before tossing it into the trash can. Reaching into his back pocket, he pulled out his comb and stood in front of the mirror, smoothing his hair back. "Where’s Lonnie now?" he called out.

"I don’t know. He never tells me where he’s going. If he’s gotten his lazy ass out of bed, then he’s probably down at the lake, fishing. Why do you want to know?"

It was time for the lesson. Laurant was going to learn he wouldn’t put up with any competition.

"Never you mind. Go find him and send him to me."

"I’ve got to go pick up my new car first."

"You’ve got to do what I tell you first, then you can get your damned car. I said, go find Lonnie."

The sheriff shoved his chair back and stood. "But what should I tell him."

Steve came back into the office. He was smiling when he answered. "Tell him I’ve got a job for him."

Chapter 19

Laurant deliberately prolonged her visit with the Vandermans. She needed the time to psych herself up for the ordeal ahead of her.

In the blink of an eye, everything had changed. She used to think of her home as her safe haven, a sanctuary really, where she could find peace and tranquility after putting in a hard day’s work. He had taken that away from her, the man the FBI nicknamed the unsub. The unknown subject who was tearing her mind into shreds. How long had he been watching her? Would he be sitting in a comfortable chair watching her tonight? Laurant blanched at the thought. Soon now she would go into her bedroom and get ready for bed while the camera tracked her every movement.

She had a sudden urge to put on her tennis shoes and go running. She couldn’t, of course, it was dark out, and it wasn’t part of the approved-by-Wesson schedule. Laurant still wanted to do it though. She had started her running regimen after she heard about her brother’s cancer. It was an outlet, a way of dealing with her fear. She loved the physical exercise, pushing herself to the limit, faster and faster, until her mind cleared and all she could concentrate on was the pounding of her heartbeat, the crunch of the scrub under her feet, and the rhythm of her breathing as she raced along the broken path around the lake. She became oblivious to her surroundings as she pushed and pushed, harder and harder, until the blessed endorphins lacked in, energizing her. For a brief time, the panic was gone and she felt gloriously alive and completely free.

She longed for that feeling now, and oh God, how she wanted control over her life again. She hated being afraid, and alternating between fury and terror was making her crazy.

"Dear, be careful with that cup. You don’t want to chip it."

Viola’s caution pulled Laurant back to the present. Viola continued to tell her the latest gossip she’d picked up at her ladies’ bridge club. Laurant tried to pay attention as she finished hand drying the blue Spode. When the kitchen was cleaned, she followed the elderly woman out onto the porch and sat side by side with her in the glider while Bessie Jean, her hand tucked into the crook of Nick’s arm, took him on a stroll around the property to show off her petunias and her vegetable garden. The streetlight barely lit the backyard.

Nick was more interested in the dark, vacant, tree-lined lot behind Laurant’s house than the garden. Cluttered with thick shrubs and bushes, it was a paradise for the unsub to hide and watch, or creep up on Laurant’s house without being seen.

"Do kids ever play in that lot?" he asked Bessie Jean after complimenting her on her garden.

"They used to, but they don’t go back there anymore, not since Billy Cleary got a fierce case of poison ivy. He was wearing shorts and he sat in it, you see, and from what his mother told me, it was a very painful experience. The child couldn’t sit down for two weeks. Once he was feeling better, Billy and his friends turned to playing by the lake."

They had made a full circle of the house. Bessie Jean called out to Viola, "I was just telling Nicholas about Billy Cleary and how he used to play in the lot behind Laurant’s house until he got poison ivy." She climbed the steps and sat down in a wicker chair.

Viola leaned toward Laurant. "His privates were covered in it," she whispered.

"I told Nicholas no one goes near that lot anymore," Bessie Jean explained.

"That’s not true," Viola said. "Don’t you remember, Sister? Several weeks ago there were children playing back there. Daddy stood on his hind legs at the back screen, barking and barking. We had to shut the door to calm him down."

Bessie Jean nodded. "I don’t believe those were children," she said. "It was going on dark. It was probably just a raccoon or possum back there. Actually, now that I reflect upon it, I believe that a wild animal was making a home back there because Daddy put up a fuss several times that week."

Viola nodded. "Yes, he did," she agreed.

Nick leaned against the railing. "How long ago did this happen? Do you remember?"

"I can’t be sure," Bessie Jean said.

"I remember," Viola announced. "I’d just put in the Big Boys."

"Big Boys?"

"Tomatoes," she explained. "And that was when?" Nick asked patiently. "Almost a month ago."

Bessie Jean didn’t agree. She thought Viola was mistaken and that it hadn’t been quite that long. The sisters bickered about it for several minutes before Laurant stood, drawing their attention and putting an end to the budding argument. "Nick and I should be heading home."

"Yes, dear, you’ll want to get unpacked and settled, won’t you?" Viola remarked.

"She looks tuckered out, doesn’t she, Sister," Bessie Jean commented.

Nick was in full agreement. Laurant did look worn-out. There were dark circles under her eyes. She looked completely different from the first time he’d seen her at the rectory. When she had learned that Tommy was all right, she completely relaxed, and for a short while, she didn’t appear to have a care in the world.