Colton Copycat Killer. Marie Ferrarella

reverend, he issued Zoe a quick order, “Come with me.” He made his way over to where the preacher was standing near the front of the church, comforting several of his regulars, people who always attended Sunday services without fail. The parishioners were clearly distraught.

      “Reverend Rimmer,” Sam began as he approached the older man.

      He got no further. The tall, thin man of the cloth immediately made his excuses to the trio he was talking to, cut the distance between himself and the groom and took hold of Sam’s hand in both of his. For a thin man, he had very large, capable hands.

      The moment the reverend began talking, it was obvious he had misunderstood why Sam had sought him out.

      “Sam, I am so sorry this terrible thing happened. If you need to talk—”

      “I do, but not to you right now, Reverend,” Sam said, cutting the man off before the reverend could get wound up. “Would it be all right to use your office?” He nodded at the woman on his right. “I need to take Ms. Robison’s statement and I need someplace where we won’t be interrupted.”

      “Yes, of course, of course.” But rather than step out of the way as Sam had expected him to, Reverend Rimmer turned toward Zoe and took hold of both of Zoe’s hands in his.

      “Zoe, please accept my heartfelt condolences on your tragic loss. I didn’t know your sister as well I would have liked—I didn’t see her at Sunday services very often,” he explained, “but I know she was a good woman who had love in her heart for her family and friends.”

      Zoe offered the man a smile, patiently taking in his words. She knew what the reverend was saying to her had to be his “go-to” comfort speech, offered to the family and friends of deceased people whom he had never gotten to know on a personal basis.

      To the best of her knowledge, the only time her sister ever turned up at any Sunday services in Rimmer’s church was when she was guaranteed a number of cute, eligible young men were in attendance, as well. During those rare occasions, Celia always arrived just a little bit late so she could make an entrance as well as an impression.

      Celia always loved being the center of attention, Zoe thought. She felt it was her due.

      In a way, Zoe thought now, if it hadn’t ultimately involved her death, Celia would have reveled in the attention this whole thing going on now was generating for her.

      But Zoe knew Reverend Rimmer was doing the best he could under the circumstances, trying to comfort her on the death of her sister. This all had, after all, happened under his roof, so to speak, and she felt bad for the preacher.

      “If you need anything, anything at all,” Reverend Rimmer was saying to her, “please don’t hesitate to give me a call. Mrs. Rimmer and I are entirely at your disposal—day or night,” he added, and for what it was worth, Zoe believed him.

      “Thank you, Reverend,” Zoe replied. “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.”

      Gently disengaging her hands from the preacher, she turned to a somewhat surprised-looking Sam. Taking a breath, she said, “Let’s get this over with.”

      He’d known Zoe for a lot of years. Just how many, he couldn’t have honestly said. But in all that time, he had only been vaguely aware of her. Still, she had never struck him as someone who spoke up, who could hold their own, especially not against a crowd. When he’d sent her off to inform the guests that the wedding had been called off, he’d just thought of her as a messenger. He hadn’t thought anyone would give her a hard time.

      He certainly hadn’t thought she could actually stand up to anyone.

      Live and learn, he thought now.

      He spared her a quick glance. “This way,” he instructed, taking Zoe by the elbow and guiding her out of the crowded area.

      He’d gotten the church’s layout just the other day, when Celia had dragged him to meet with the reverend to make the final arrangements for the splashy wedding she had made abundantly clear she had always wanted.

      As far as he was concerned, they could have exchanged two-minute vows in front of some justice of the peace. He had absolutely no desire to have witnesses to something he wouldn’t have done on his own in the first place. But since he’d made up his mind to do right by her and especially to do right by his unborn child, they were to exchange vows in front of people who were all one and the same to him at this point.

      He didn’t care. He’d just wanted it over with.

      And now it is, he thought in an almost accusatory tone.

      He forced himself to focus on the moment and not the past.

      “The reverend’s office is this way, down the hall,” he told Zoe.

      Releasing her arm, he led the way down the narrow passageway.

      Compared to the rest of the church and its connected areas, the hallway was almost tomblike in its silence. The lighting that came through the windows located eight feet off the ground was strained and diffuse. Nothing about it was welcoming in Zoe’s opinion.

      “Kind of eerie,” Zoe noted, stifling an unbidden shiver that shimmied up and down her spine.

      “You don’t have to be afraid,” Sam responded almost automatically, then assured her, “Nobody’s going to hurt you.”

      Although he wasn’t carrying his primary weapon, because he was supposed to be off duty and the tuxedo afforded no place to carry the heavy piece, he still had his backup weapon strapped to his ankle. Wearing it beneath the tuxedo trousers had been a challenge, but in the end, he had managed.

      He thought of the old adage, “Where there’s a will, there’s a way.”

      “I’m not afraid,” Zoe replied, waving away the suggestion that she was. “But it is eerie here,” she pointed out. That feeling was only heightened by the crime that had just taken place there.

      Arriving at the reverend’s office, Sam tested the doorknob. The door wasn’t locked. Even so, he looked carefully around and then entered the tiny alcove of a room first.

      Caution trumped chivalry every time in his book.

      A quick visual sweep of the area assured him there was no one in the small, rather claustrophobic room. Shelves crammed full of books of all sizes and shapes lined three of the four walls, adding to the intensely cramped feeling.

      The reverend’s desk was no different from the rest of the room. It had piles of papers and folders stacked around, behind and in front of an antiquated computer someone had donated to the church. The piles of paper and the computer succeeded in taking up all the available space on the desktop.

      There were papers on the chairs, as well. At first glance, they looked to be preventing anyone from making proper use of the chairs.

      Sam cleared off what was obviously the reverend’s chair and then turned his attention to the only other available one in the office. He put both piles of paper on the corner of the desk as carefully as possible, sincerely hoping there wouldn’t be an avalanche.

      Finished, he gestured toward the chair and then suggested, “Why don’t you take a seat.” When Zoe did so and he had followed suit, he said to her, “In your own words, why don’t you tell me exactly what happened before you left your sister—and then what you saw when you came back.”

      The knot in her stomach returned, tightening and threatening to cut off her very air supply.

      She didn’t want to tell him what Celia’s last words to her had been.

       Chapter 3

      Zoe folded her hands in her lap and for a moment, she just focused her entire being on breathing.

      Once she had taken in and exhaled several deep, cleansing breaths, she raised her eyes to