Beverly Barton - Silent Killer

Cathy nodded, and as soon as Lorie left her alone with Seth, she said, “Why don’t we sit down?”

“Answer my questions, will you?” Seth paced around the living room. “I thought after you heard about their finding that priest’s body today, you’d be all torn up because you’d be remembering the day Dad died and thinking about him and…But instead you went out on a date with a guy you knew when you were a teenager. I don’t understand.”

“Are you saying that you’re disappointed I didn’t fall apart?”

He glared directly at her face. “No, of course not. It’s just I don’t understand why you’d pick tonight of all times to go out on your first date since Dad died. It somehow seems disrespectful to Dad’s memory.”

Cathy heaved a heavy sigh. Her son’s words mimicked J.B. Cantrell’s sentiments. She didn’t like that. All the more reason to regain custody as soon as possible.

She approached Seth, who stood in the middle of the room, his gaze never leaving her face.

“I told you that dinner with Jack wasn’t exactly a date. Not the way you mean. It was just what he said. I needed a distraction, something-anything-to keep me from thinking about the day Mark died, from remembering how I’d nearly lost my mind in the weeks following his funeral and how I had a complete breakdown when Reverend Randolph was murdered.

“Jack and I were friends a long time ago. He moved away from Dunmore, and I haven’t seen him in nearly seventeen years. He’s renovating the house where he grew up, and he’s hired Treasures to act as consultants on the renovating and decorating. I’ll be seeing more of him in the future.”

“Just as friends?” Seth asked.

Good question. Did she think she could really be only friends with Jack? “That’s all we are right now, just two old friends becoming reacquainted.”

“Are you going to date him again?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. If he asks me.”

“I don’t have to like him, you know. And I don’t have to like the idea of your dating him or anybody else for that matter.”

“No, you don’t have to like him.” Cathy laid her hand on Seth’s arm. “But you don’t know Jack, so you have no idea if you’d like him or not. Once you get to know him-”

Seth yanked his arm away. “I may not want to get to know him. Doesn’t it matter to you what I think, how I feel?”

“Yes, it matters to me a great deal. But I thought I taught you better than to judge a person before you actually know them. If I choose to date Jack or someone else, it will be my decision. Not yours or my mother’s and certainly not your grandfather’s.”

“What if I told you that if you date that guy, I won’t ever come and live with you?”

“Is that what you’re saying? Do you think you have the right to make that kind of threat in order to force me to do what you want?” What would she do if she had to choose between her son’s wishes and remaining in control of her own life?

“No, of course not. It’s just…” Seth slumped down on the sofa and dropped his clasped hands between his spread thighs. “I want things back the way they were before Dad died. I want Dad.”

Cathy sat down beside her son and put her arm around his shoulders. “I know you do. And if I could give you that, I would.” She reached out and shoved back soft strands of hair from his forehead.

Seth turned around and went into her arms the way he had often done as a small boy. She held him close as he cried silently.

Bruce Kelley watched his wife of forty years as she prepared for bed. There was something comforting and reassuring in life’s little daily routines. Morning coffee while glancing over the newspaper. Lunch at twelve-thirty every weekday. Sunday dinner with their children and grandchildren. And Sandie’s nightly ritual. She always put on her gown and house slippers before smearing makeup remover from forehead to chin and then washing her face. After that, she sat at her small dressing table in the corner of their bedroom and brushed her hair. Her once strawberry-blond hair was now streaked with silver, but it was still long and silky, and he enjoyed the feel of it beneath his fingertips.

He walked over and stood behind her. She tilted her head back, glanced up at him and smiled. Her lovely smile had been the first thing that had attracted him to her when they’d first met forty-two years ago. They had both been students at the University of Alabama.

Today had been one of Sandie’s good days. Thankfully, she had more good days than bad, but Bruce knew that it was only a matter of time before that changed. She had been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s three years ago, and the insidious disease had finally begun to alter her personality. Only recently their children, Kim, Kira and Kevin, had spoken to him about hiring a companion for their mother.

“You don’t want to wait until she wanders off one day and we have to call the police,” Kevin had said. He was their youngest and had just graduated from law school.

“Kira and I will find someone for you,” said Kim, their eldest, who taught mentally challenged children and adults and was the mother of three precious little girls.

“Even if you retire next year as you’re planning to do, you can’t look after Mama twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week,” said Kira, the middle child, with her mother’s beauty and tender heart, the artist who had chosen not to marry, as she had taken his hand in hers. “We’re as concerned about you, Daddy, as we are about Mama.”

He had resisted hiring a companion for Sandie, knowing that their comfortable, reassuring life would change forever when they brought another person into their home full time.

But their life had already changed. On the days when he had to be in his office at the church or when there were matters he couldn’t turn over to his young assistant minister, Bruce had to rely on ladies from the church to come and sit with Sandie while he was gone. He hated to impose on others, but his congregation had rallied around him in his time of need.

Bruce leaned down and kissed Sandie’s forehead. She sighed, then rose from the vanity bench and walked over to the bed. After she got in, he pulled the covers up above her waist and reached to turn off the bedside lamp. She grabbed his hand.

“I love you,” she told him.

“I love you, too, my darling.” Tears misted his eyes.

Their golden years were not supposed to be like this. They had planned to travel when he retired. Tour the country by train. Take an Alaskan cruise. Visit all the capitals of Europe.

“I’m going to stay up and read for a while,” he told her. “I’ll be in my study if you need me.”

She smiled, then closed her eyes and turned over on her side. He switched off the light and left her to rest.

As soon as he entered his study, he walked over to his desk and picked up the phone. He dialed Kim’s number and waited.

“Daddy?”

He could hear the panic in her voice. “Everything is all right, sweetheart. I-I wanted to ask you to go ahead and look into finding a companion for your mother.”

“Did she have a bad day today?”

“No. Today was a good day.”

“Oh, Daddy…”

“Find someone kind and caring, someone your mother would like.”

“I’ve already found somebody,” Kim told him. “I’ve just been waiting for you to say the word.”

“Who is she?”

“Mirabelle Rutledge. She’s one of my students.”

“You want to send me a young woman who is retarded to look after your mother?”

“Mirabelle is simply a little slow, Daddy. And you know how I hate the word retarded.”

“I’m sorry I’m not being politically correct. In my day, calling someone who was retarded retarded wasn’t an insult.”