Catherine Coulter - Blindside

“Reverend McCamy is very intense-you know, he looks all dark and broody, thin, tall, like he spends a lot of time on his knees conversing with God. I’ve never heard of him being involved with any of the women in his congregation. Besides, Elsbeth, his wife, is one of the most beautiful women around here-long blond hair, slender, soft-spoken, does whatever he asks. It’s sure hard to see either of them being involved in this.”

“Hmm,” Glen Hodges said, and Katie waited, just waited, for him to make some sexist remark, but he didn’t. Indeed, he was frowning. “Doesn’t sound true to type,” he said finally.

“You’re right,” Katie said. “He’s always polite, always pleasant, but there’s just something about him, something that makes you want to take a step back, if you know what I mean.”

“How many people in his congregation?” Sherlock asked.

“Maybe fifty, sixty, I’m not really sure. I’m thinking I’ll just swing by their house, you know, check it out a bit, see if just maybe Clancy is hanging around out there. He’s her brother, after all. Where else would he hide?”

“I’m going with you, Katie,” Sherlock said and slung the strap of her purse over her shoulder. “No way are you on this little sightseeing visit by yourself.”

“What about me, Mom?”

“You stay here. Oh dear.” She stared blankly at Miles, who was giving her a crooked smile.

“Go get ’em, tiger,” Miles said. “Keely, you and me and Sam are going to stay and play gin rummy with your uncle Dillon and maybe have some lunch in the cafeteria. Whatcha think?”

“I don’t know how to play gin rummy,” Keely said.

“I want to go, Papa.”

“Sorry kid, not this time. They serve who also wait, or something like that. Keely, you’ll learn real fast. Now, say good-bye to your mom.”

“Good-bye, Mom.”

“I’ll see you soon, sweetie.”

“Take another pain pill in exactly thirty-one minutes, okay?” Sherlock said as she kissed her husband’s whiskered cheek. “And find out if it’s at all possible the McCamys could be behind Sam’s kidnapping.”

“A preacher wanting Sam?” Miles said as he settled Sam back onto his lap. “I can’t begin to imagine why.”

Katie shrugged. “I’ll bet Clancy has visited Elsbeth here in Jessborough, knew about Bleaker’s cabin, and that’s why they took Sam there. You ready, Sherlock?”

Could Elsbeth McCamy be involved in this? Katie just didn’t think that could be right. Elsbeth was a wuss, a woman who worshiped her husband, and was utterly and completely dominated by him. She never even referred to him by his first name.

Glen Hodges said, “I should go with you, Sheriff. Like I said, this is a federal case and-”

Sherlock said mildly, “I’m a Fed last time I checked, Glen. You keep heading up the search. Welcome Butch Ashburn when he arrives, wing tips polished. The women are going to the preacher’s house.”

A s Katie turned onto Boone Street, she said to Sherlock, “That’s Town Hall, where Mayor Tommy hangs out. I’ve got about six messages on my voice mail from him already this morning. And that’s the combination Police Department and Fire Station. We’re coming up on Main Street, Jessborough’s main drag. You’re in for a treat.”

Sherlock was already craning her neck to see everything. The sky had cleared after the heavy rainstorm of the night before, and the fall leaves were in full color, with spectacular reds, yellows, and golds. Beautiful old buildings lined the brick sidewalks. Sherlock saw half a dozen churches, with spires rising above the brilliant trees.

Katie said, “There’s Keely’s favorite stop, The Lollipop Store, and on the right is Nancy’s coffee shop, called The Cranberry Thistle.” There were antiques stores and galleries, a saddle shop, several gift shops, including a quilt shop that Sherlock would have liked to visit, and an enclosed marketplace. Small restaurants were dotted in among the shops, ranging from burgers and fries to Italian cuisine.

“This is lovely,” Sherlock said, turning in her seat to look back down Main Street. “Does one of these churches belong to the Sinful Children of God?”

“No, that one’s out on Sycamore Road, in an old church that used to be Lutheran before Reverend McCamy took it over some three or four years ago.”

“I see some gift shops. You have a lot of tourists?”

“More during the summer. We’re a little off the beaten track.”

“And those mountains,” Sherlock said, waving her hand at them. “It feels like you could reach out and touch that blue haze. They’re solid and eternal, and that’s comforting, I suppose.”

Katie smiled. “The Appalachians change a lot with the seasons. Fall is the most beautiful time, but they’re sort of like a good neighbor who stays put, you can count on them always being there under that blue haze-well, that’s why we call them the Smokies. I’ll tell you, it still sometimes makes my heart skip a beat when I look up and see them.”

“This is a beautiful town, Katie. No exhaust fumes, no gangs of teenagers with bolts through their noses. It’s so peaceful.”

“You get all those things just up the highway.”

“But you’re tucked away all safe and sound. Until yesterday, anyway.” Sherlock rolled down the truck window and breathed in the clean crisp air.

“Yes, it’s always been peaceful, until now.”

“I brought my big hair rollers,” Sherlock said as she watched a horse-drawn carriage pull onto Main Street.

Katie, who’d been thinking the last thing she needed was this FBI character, Butch Ashburn, trying to out-wing-tip Glen Hodges with his heel on her neck, blinked, turned to look at Sherlock, and said, “What?”

“A while back Dillon and I were in Los Angeles on a case. There was this crazy guy murdering people, copying a TV show-”

“You were involved in those TV show murders?”

“Well, yes. As I was saying, Dillon and I discovered quite by accident that he really likes to roll up my hair on those big hair rollers and then have me pull them out of my hair, one by one, and sort of toss my head and string my fingers through my mane. So I brought them along with me to cheer him up. But I think it’s going to have to wait a couple of days before he’s up to playing again.”

Katie laughed. “Hair rollers. Hmm, I never thought of that.”

“I hadn’t either until I met Belinda Gates,” Sherlock said. “Boy, could she pull out hair rollers. It was enough to make Dillon sweat.”

“She’s that actress who starred in The Consultant, isn’t she?”

“Yep, she’s the one, a real piece of work. Actually, I liked her when I didn’t want to punch her out. You wouldn’t believe some of the people we met in Hollywood. They were so crooked you wondered how they could walk. You’ve got a cute kid. What is she-five?”

“Yes, she just turned five last month. She’s all mine, thank God.”

Sherlock wanted to know what she meant by that, but it was too pushy to ask, at least this soon. “Tell me more about Elsbeth Bird McCamy.”

Katie turned her truck off Main Street onto Poplar Drive, checked the old Ford coming up on her left, and said, “The very first thing you notice about Elsbeth is how beautiful she is-she’s got this fall of very light blond hair, all the way to her waist. She always wears it loose, tucked behind her ears so you can see her Jesus earrings.”

“Her what?”

“I call them Jesus earrings. They’re silver-Jesus on the cross-and they hang down about an inch and a half. When she moves, they move. I’ll tell you, it makes me shudder. I think she’s about thirty-five now, which isn’t all that young, but given that Reverend McCamy is well over fifty, it’s a bit on the creepy side. Like I told you, he’s very intense-his eyes blaze and nearly turn black when he looks at you.”