Beverly Barton - Silent Killer

“Don’t worry about it, honey. Seth didn’t do anything wrong. I just wanted you to know how concerned he is about her. I realize you don’t need any advice about how to handle your son, but you might want to talk to him, help him work out the anger and frustration he’s feeling. He doesn’t understand how a father could abuse his own child the way Donnie Hovater did Missy. And I don’t think he’ll get any help on that front from his grandparents. I figure they’re the type of people who aren’t going to want to talk about it.”

“You’re right, they aren’t. But he and I talked yesterday, probably before he came to see you. I have to admit that I’m as dumbfounded as Seth is as to how a man who appeared to be a fine, upstanding preacher could be such a monster. Seth told me that he wanted to see Missy, and I told him that she wasn’t ready to see him, that it might be a while before she’d want to see any of her friends.”

“We had a man-to-man discussion,” Jack admitted. “He stayed at the house a couple of hours, and we talked about a lot of things. I hope you don’t mind. I don’t know how much I helped him, but I tried.”

“I don’t mind at all. Thank you.” She stood on tiptoe and kissed Jack’s cheek. “I think you could be a very positive influence on Seth. He needs a man to talk to, and I can’t think of anyone I’d rather have him go to for advice.”

“I’m not so sure how good an influence I’ll be, but I can give it my best shot. I think maybe Seth’s a lot smarter than I was at his age and a hell of a lot more grounded. And I have a feeling that was your doing.”

Cathy caressed Jack’s cheek. “Sometimes…”

“Sometimes what?”

“Nothing, really. Just sometimes I wish things could be different. I wish I could change the past.”

He grabbed her hand and held it. “It’s bad to look back. The past is over and done with. All we have is the here and now.”

Cathy laid her hand in the center of his chest and smiled. “Will you come for dinner tonight?”

“Why don’t I pick up some barbeque and bring supper with me?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“Think about me a few times today.”

“I will,” she told him. “You think about me, too.”

“I’ll think about tonight.”

She kissed his cheek again before walking away, her emotions all over the place. Happy. Worried. Eager. Uncertain.

How long would it be before she’d have no choice but to tell Jack the truth about Seth?

John Earl had debated whether or not he should be at home when Ruth Ann arrived with Missy Hovater. He certainly didn’t want to do anything to upset the girl or cause her any undue distress. But in the end, he had decided that if he and Ruth Ann were going to bring this young girl into their family as a foster daughter, the sooner she accepted him as a friend, the better. He realized that she would be wary of him at first, that because she had been abused by her father for so many years, she might see him as the enemy. She would need time to learn to trust him. He was, after all, a man, and the poor child had learned from her horrific experiences that men could not be trusted.

When Ruth Ann had spoken to him about Missy, about her desire to help the girl by making her a part of their family, he had been reluctant. But seeing how important this was to his wife, he had finally agreed. Perhaps in helping Missy, Ruth Ann could actually help herself. Until the recent series of clergymen murders, John Earl had thought perhaps, at long last, she had been able to put the past behind her. Of course, she could never forget the years of sexual abuse she endured or the way in which her father had died, but he had hoped those things no longer haunted her. But then the old nightmares had returned to plague her on a routine basis.

“They’re here.” Felicity jumped away from the window and let the curtain fall back into place. “What do we say? What do we do?”

“Don’t do anything other than say hello,” John Earl advised. “She’ll probably want to go to her room, and she may not want to interact with any of us, other than your mother, for a while.”

“I think bringing that girl into our home is a mistake,” Faye Long said.

“Grandmother, how unchristian of you.” Felicity glowered at Faye.

“I think it’s awful what Missy’s father did to her,” Charity said. “I don’t blame her if she did kill him.”

“We’ll have no more talk like that,” John Earl told his elder daughter.

“Did she ever tell you what was going on?” Felicity skewered her sister with her sharp glare. “You two are friends, and friends tell each other secrets. If Missy really is the Fire and Brimstone Killer, maybe she’ll confess to you.”

“Oh, shut up!” Charity shook her head in disgust. “Don’t you dare say stuff like that to Missy.” She looked to her father. “Daddy, warn Felicity that she’d better behave herself.”

Before John Earl could caution his younger daughter, she answered her sister. “I’ll behave. I like Missy. But I have to admit that I don’t know why Mother was willing to give up her craft room to make Missy a room of her own when I’ve been having to share a room with you all my life.”

Charity glared at Felicity, who promptly stuck her tongue out at her sister.

The back door opened, and Ruth Ann called, “We’re home.”

John Earl took a deep breath, gave both of his daughters a quick be-on-your-best-behavior glance and prepared himself for the first day of their new life.

Ruth Ann led Missy into the family room, her arm around the girl’s slender shoulders. Everyone waited, barely breathing, all of them wanting to put Missy at ease.

“Welcome to our home,” John Earl said. Then quickly added, “Welcome to your new home.”

With a wide, deer-in-the-headlights look in her eyes, Missy glanced quickly from John Earl to Faye, who forced a smile and nodded, to Felicity and finally to Charity.

“Hi, Missy.” Felicity lifted her hand and waved.

“We’re glad you’re going to be staying with us,” Charity said.

“Missy’s had a rather tiring morning,” Ruth Ann told them. “I think she’d like to go to her room and rest for a while before lunch.”

“Certainly, certainly.” John Earl recognized that desperately lost and frightened expression on Missy’s face. He remembered only too well that same look on Ruth Ann’s face shortly after her father died in the fire that had destroyed her home.

As soon as Ruth Ann escorted Missy through the family room and into the hall that led to her former craft room at the back of the house, everyone else released the anxious breaths they’d been holding.

“Boy, she looks like a zombie,” Felicity said.

“If you’d gone through what she has, you’d look pretty rough yourself,” Charity told her.

“Girls, keep your voices down,” John Earl told them. “Sound carries down the hall, and you do not want Missy to hear you talking about her.”

Felicity shrugged. “If show time is over, I’m going outside to sit in the gazebo and listen to my iPod.”

“Lunch will be ready in about an hour,” Faye reminded them. “Sitting down to our first meal with that pitiful child will be an ordeal for all of us. I still say it was a mistake for Ruth Ann to-”

“Mother!” Ruth Ann stood in the doorway, a hostile scowl on her face. “I’m ashamed of you.” Her gaze scanned the others in the room, going from one to another and then settling back on her mother. “Missy prefers to have lunch in her room. I’ll fix her a tray after we’ve eaten.” She fanned her hands in a shooing manner. “Go on about your normal routines. Keeping things as normal as possible will be good for Missy, and it will certainly make the transition easier on all of us.”