The Wife. BEVERLY BARTON

      “Ask her about both. Be honest with her, and maybe she’ll be honest with you. Tell her that Griff ’s involvement with her sanctuary for her psychic students is creating tension in your relationship with your husband. From what you’ve told me about Yvette, and from what I’ve learned firsthand, I get the feeling that the last thing she’d ever want to do is cause a rift between you and Griff.”

      “I know you’re right about that, but at the same time, I’m not sure she’d tell me anything if I asked her,” Nic said.

      “You won’t know until you ask.”

      “You’re right. And there’s no better time than now, since Griff will be gone to Switzerland for a few days, tending to some financial matters. Or at least that’s what he told me.”

      Nic crossed her arms over her chest in a hugging motion. It must be terrible to feel as if you can’t completely trust the man you love, Maleah thought. She knew Griff as her boss, and as her friend’s husband. While working for him, she had come to realize that Griffin Powell was a very complicated man. But on that score, Nic and Griff were a good match. Nic was rather complex herself.

      While Maleah considered what else to say about Nic confronting Dr. Yvette Meng with questions that Griff seemed reluctant to answer, her phone rang. Her ringtone was the theme song from the old Peter Gunn TV series.

      She unhooked the phone from where she’d clipped it to the elastic waist of her running shorts and checked the caller ID “Jack, can I call you back later?”

      “Sure. When?” he asked.

      Nic clasped Maleah’s arm. “No, go ahead and talk to your brother. I’ll head back to the house. After I grab a shower and change clothes, I plan to go see Yvette.”

      “Okay.” She gave her friend a reassuring smile. “Afterward, if you want to talk, just knock on my door.”

      “Sure thing.” Nic surged to her feet and jogged back toward the house.

      Maleah returned to her call. “Okay, I can talk now. What’s up? Things going okay with your job? And how are your plans going for renovations to the old home place?”

      “The job’s fine,” Jack told her. “As for the house—I’ve got a couple of contractors coming by later this week to give me estimates on what it’ll cost to put the old beauty in tiptop shape.”

      “So, did you call for a specific reason or just to…?”

      “I need a favor.”

      “Sure. Just ask.” She adored her big brother, always had and always would. In her eyes, he could do no wrong. For as long as she lived, she would owe him more than she could ever repay for protecting her as best he could from their stepfather, that sadistic son of a bitch.

      “There’s a chance we’ve got a serial killer on the loose here in northern Alabama. There have been three almost identical murders in the past eighteen months. It would help us if we could get a profile done of the possible killer. Any chance you could help us out?”

      Maleah groaned inwardly. Yes, she could help them, and she would. But damn it all, she really hated the thought of asking Derek Lawrence for a favor. From the instant they met, he had rubbed her the wrong way. He was just a little too good-looking and a little too suave and sophisticated for her tastes. And the man was a damn know-it-all. Yes, he was brilliant, with an IQ bordering on genius. And from what Nic had told her, he had come from old money, thus explaining his attitude of superiority, although rumor was that the family had lost most of their vast fortune. Some bad investments and several hefty divorce settlements made by his father and uncle.

      “I’ll get in touch with Derek Lawrence tonight,” Maleah said. “Derek doesn’t come cheap, but the Powell Agency has him on retainer, and the agency often provides his services without charge. All I’ll need to do is get Nic to sign off on it, and I know she will.”

      “Thanks, Sis. I appreciate it.”

      “I take it that this case is connected to one of your cold-case files?”

      “Yeah.”

      “Which one?”

      “The minister who was doused with gasoline and set on fire.”

      “Oh.”

      “Oh, what?”

      “Nothing,” Maleah said. “It’s just that I know that minister was Cathy Nelson’s husband and—”

      “Cathy has nothing to do with this.”

      “Don’t give me that. I remember the summer you came home on leave and stayed with Mike and his family. I might have been only fifteen, but I was old enough to know what was going on between you and Cathy.” Maleah paused and considered what she was going to say next. “And I remember later on how you reacted when you found out that she’d married Mark Cantrell.”

      “Past history,” Jack said.

      “She’s a widow now.”

      “Yeah, so she is.” He paused briefly before changing the subject. “So, let me know if you can line up that profiler. If you can, I’ll fax him all the info we have.”

      “I’ll call you as soon as I know something for sure.”

      “Thanks. I appreciate your doing this.”

      “No problem.”

      “ ’Bye.”

      “Take care of yourself, okay?”

      “Sure thing.”

      “ ’Bye.”

      Maleah clipped her phone back on to the waistband of her shorts but didn’t get up immediately. She could postpone getting in touch with Derek. She could go back to the house, shower and eat dinner first. But delaying the inevitable wasn’t her style. Just do it and get it over with was her motto.

      She pulled on her socks, put on her shoes and tied them. After standing up and stretching, she looked out over the lake. She loved staying at Griffin’s Rest, loved the acres and acres of woods, the dirt pathways that meandered here and there, the lake itself and the solitude she found here.

      She retrieved her phone, hit the preprogrammed number and waited for Derek to answer. But instead of speaking to the arrogant man himself, she got his voice mail. Breathing a sigh of relief, she left a message, succinctly explaining what she needed from him and giving him Jack’s phone number. If she were lucky, she wouldn’t have to deal with Derek directly.

      After Mike had delivered the news about the latest victim, Lorie had closed Treasures for the day. They had come home nearly an hour ago. Cathy’s mother had arrived first, and she’d been in the middle of reassuring her mom that she was perfectly all right when J.B. and Mona arrived on Lorie’s doorstep.

      Sensing that everyone, with the possible exception of Lorie, expected her to come unglued at any moment, Cathy felt she needed to say something that would ease their fears. After all, it wasn’t unreasonable for them to expect the worst. A year ago, she had proven just how emotionally unstable she’d been.

      While Lorie excused herself and went into the kitchen to prepare iced tea for their guests, Cathy cleared her throat loudly. All eyes focused on her.

      “I know y’all are worried about me and you’ve rushed over here because you’re concerned.” She took a deep, calming breath. “I appreciate that, but I promise you that I’m fine. I’m not going to have another breakdown. Not today or tomorrow or ever again.”

      “I know you believe that, but this was such a horrible shock,” Elaine said. “Not just for you, but for all of us. To think that the person who killed our dear Mark has killed again…” With tears misting her eyes, she covered her mouth with her open hand and bowed her head.

      Mona reached out and clasped Cathy’s hands. “We’re here because