Beverly Barton - Silent Killer

“She needs to be sedated,” Glenda, a pediatric nurse, had told him. “Do you have anything?”

He had nodded. “Some pills the doctor gave us, but-”

“Get them. Judy and I will stay here with her. If we can’t get her to take the tablets, we’ll have to call 911.”

When he had returned with the medication, Sandie had appeared calmer and even agreed to take a couple of the pills. But the moment he’d placed the medication in her mouth, she’d bitten his fingers.

Bruce unfolded his clasped hands and looked at the bandage Glenda had taped over his right index finger after she had stopped the bleeding and cleaned it with an antiseptic.

“She’s sleeping.” Judy Calhoun stood in the doorway of his study. “Glenda said to tell you that she’ll sit with her for a while longer.” She gazed at him sympathetically. “Why don’t you come over to the house and eat lunch with Bob and me?”

“Thank you, but I don’t think I could eat a bite.”

“You need help, someone who can live in and look after Sandie.”

“Yes, I know. Kim is bringing a young woman to Sunday dinner. The girl is one of her students. She’s a bit slow, but she’s strong and healthy, and Kim assures me that she’s very kind.” Tears sprang into his eyes. He turned his head and cleared his throat.

Judy walked into the room, came over to him and placed her hand on his shoulder. “Why don’t you call Kim and see if this young woman can start work today?”

Bruce squeezed his eyes tightly as he accepted the painful reality of their situation. He nodded, but didn’t look at Judy. He didn’t want to face her with tears in his eyes.

She patted his shoulder. “If you need us, call us. Bob and I will do anything we can. You know we think the world of you and Sandie.”

He swallowed hard, gulping down the tears tightening his throat. Several minutes later, alone in his study, Bruce rose to his feet and walked over to his desk. He picked up the phone and dialed his elder daughter’s work number.

It is my duty to search for and find the unworthy, those who profess to be servants of the Lord, who pass themselves off as good shepherds but are sinners of the worst kind. I have heard rumors about certain people, but I cannot punish someone unless I am certain of their evil ways.

People say that Reverend Dewan Phillips is a good man, but he is a proud, boastful man. He likes to talk to hear his own voice, and although he sings the Lord’s praises, he often takes credit for himself instead of giving credit to God. I must keep an eye on him. When You give me a sign that he is a sinner in need of chastisement, I will obey Your command.

And most people believe Patsy Floyd is above reproach, that as the first female minister in Dunmore, she should be admired for achieving equality for women in her church. But there are a few people who don’t like her. I’ve heard some say that she does not conduct herself in a humble and pious manner, that she wears expensive clothes and jewelry and flaunts her wealth. Has she displeased You, God? If I find all the accusations against her to be true, I will mark her name in my book, and she will be punished.

And the rumors about the minister at the Presbyterian Church in Decatur cannot be ignored. If Bruce Kelley has hardened his heart and is shirking his duties as a husband, he must be dealt with severely. There is no more grievous sin than one committed against a member of one’s own family. A husband who abuses or abandons his wife, a father who abuses or abandons his child, a son who neglects or mistreats his parents.

Not my will, O Lord but Thine be done. I know that You have chosen me to carry out Your will, that my suffering proves my worthiness, that I am special in Thine eyes. I am the Angel of Vengeance, the Destroyer of Evil, the Executioner of the Unworthy.

Jack didn’t like the way that Clay Yarbrough was flirting with Cathy. He wished she would stop smiling at Clay. And why did she have to laugh at all his silly comments? Jack didn’t think he was all that amusing.

“I sure didn’t mean any disrespect to your late husband when I told you about my old man,” Clay said, grinning like an idiot as he stared into Cathy’s eyes. “But my father, God rest his sorry soul, was a mean old son of a bitch, preacher or no preacher.”

Jack cleared his throat. Cathy and Clay looked at him. He tapped his wristwatch.

“I have to return to work in less than fifteen minutes,” Jack said. “We need to get back on track here.”

“Sorry about that.” Clay bestowed his wide smile first on Cathy and then on Jack. “I tend to talk too much instead of listening, but I wanted Mrs. Cantrell to know how sorry I am about what happened to her husband. And whenever preachers come up in the conversation, I naturally think about my dad.”

“You mentioned before we ate lunch that you think it would be a good idea for me to hire an architect to draw up plans for the renovations I want.” Jack glanced at Cathy. “Do you think you could draw up the plans? It would save me the added expense of hiring an architect.”

“Well, yes, I suppose I could,” Cathy replied, a touch of surprise in her voice. “The plans wouldn’t be the same as a professional architect would do, but…” She paused and smiled at Jack. “I can’t believe that you remembered I wanted to be an architect.”

“I remembered the plans you showed me for your dream house,” Jack said. “If I recall correctly, the house was a modern version of a Victorian, with gingerbread trim, a turret and a porch gazebo.”

“I don’t have a problem with Mrs. Cantrell drawing up the plans,” Clay said. “They don’t have to be professional quality. I’ve had clients who drew up their own plans, and somehow, someway, I managed to give them what they wanted.”

“Actually, I took some night classes at the junior college right after Lorie and I opened up Treasures of the Past.” Cathy didn’t even glance at Clay; her gaze focused directly on Jack. “If you’ll tell me exactly what you want, I’ll do my best to transfer that into something resembling what an architect would produce for you.”

“Sounds great,” Clay said. “And I’d be more than happy to help you out. Sometimes I have to sketch out things for a client myself, and if you need any tools of the trade, I’m sure I can round ’em up for you. What say we have dinner tonight and-”

“The lady already has dinner plans.” The words were out of Jack’s mouth before he realized that Cathy might object to his high-handed manner. He looked at her pleadingly. “That is…”

“Jack’s right,” Cathy said as she turned to Clay. “I’m having dinner with my son tonight. I appreciate the offer to loan me your supplies, but I have my own, everything from trimmers and drafting templates to a sketch board and parallel rulers and gliders.”

“Well, another night then,” Clay said. “Maybe you and your son would like to go over to Huntsville for dinner and a movie. How old is your boy?”

“Seth’s fifteen. But, you see, I haven’t started dating.” She cut a quick glance Jack’s way. “Not officially.”

“If we take your boy along with us, it won’t exactly be a date, but I tell you what-consider it an open invitation. When you do start dating, just let me know.”

Clay slid back his chair and stood. He grinned at Cathy, and then offered Jack his hand. Jack stood.

“I’m ready to start when you are,” Clay said. “I’ll get an inspector out there on Monday to see where we need to start on structural repairs. And as soon as I get Mrs. Cantrell’s plans, I’ll have the carpenters go right to work.”

Jack shook Clay’s hand and walked him halfway to the restaurant’s front entrance. He wanted to tell the man to stay away from Cathy, to back off and leave her alone. But he thought better of the idea, sensing that she would resent him running interference for her. She’d made it clear that she was in charge of her own life.