The FBI Thrillers Collection Books 6-10 - Catherine Coulter [342]
“Linnie is some dispatcher.”
“Yes, she’s excellent, knows everyone’s problems, knows about all their relationships, even the illicit ones. She’s the backbone of the department. I would seriously consider hurting anyone who tried to take her away from me.”
She directed him to the big Victorian on Pine Wood Lane. As he looked at the house, realized who lived there, he felt his insides chill.
Her hand was light on his forearm. “We will be professional about this, Miles. Do you agree?”
He nodded. “I swear I won’t tie up either of them in their playroom.”
“Good.”
“But I was thinking I’d like to see what they’ve got in there.”
“You into whips and handcuffs?”
“Not that I know of.” He looked thoughtful, grinned at her, and said, “I promise not to drop-kick them out one of those big front windows either.”
“Good,” she said again. “We got some new cards to play. If we do it really carefully, something might pop.”
Katie pressed the doorbell, heard a light footfall. A few moments later, Elsbeth McCamy answered. She looked just like she always looked: hot. It always amazed Katie that she was with Reverend McCamy, who was so dark and serious and intense, his entire being seemingly focused inward on the state of his soul. Every word out of his mouth was a paean to his God, and to his notions that men should be victims of His love. Victim of love—what a strange choice of words, but now it had a new meaning to her.
Katie looked at the woman standing there in tight jeans, a red spandex top, and the Jesus earrings and thought about the sex room upstairs with that padded wooden block. She wondered what his congregation thought of Elsbeth, but truth be told, she’d never heard anything that indicated anyone thought them mismatched or that a sexpot like her shouldn’t be a preacher’s wife. Like nearly all people in Jessborough, they never caused trouble.
Katie nodded but didn’t extend her hand. “Elsbeth.”
“Hello, Katie. Why are you here?” She wasn’t looking at Katie, she was studying Miles Kettering, a perfect eyebrow hiked up. “You were in church on Sunday.”
“Yes.”
“You’re the boy’s father.”
“Elsbeth, this is Miles Kettering, and yes, he’s Sam’s father. We would very much like to speak to you and Reverend McCamy.”
“Reverend McCamy is ministering to two of his flock,” Elsbeth said. “Mr. and Mrs. Locke. They’re in his study. I don’t expect him to be free for another half hour or so.”
“May we speak to you until he’s free?”
It was quite obvious she didn’t want to let them in, but she couldn’t think of a reason to keep them out. Grudgingly, Elsbeth stepped back.
“This way,” she said. “I’m making some brownies for Reverend McCamy. They’re his favorite. Where is your son, Mr. Kettering?”
“Sam is at the sheriff’s department, supervising all the deputies.”
Elsbeth laughed. “He’s a cute little boy. Is Keely with him?”
“Oh yes,” Katie said. “They’ve become inseparable.” Now, why had Miles lied about Sam’s whereabouts?
“It’s comforting to know what we get for our tax dollars, isn’t it?”
Katie said, “I’m sorry about your brother.”
“Are you really?”
“Yes. I’m a sheriff, not a killer. I can’t imagine Reverend McCamy liking brownies.”
“Why ever not? He has quite a sweet tooth.”
Katie shrugged. “Somehow I think of him as always being too above all of life’s pleasures, immersed in his work—”
“His calling,” Elsbeth said, frowning. “It’s not his work, it’s his calling. God chose him above all others to lead the common man to Him.”
“Not women, too?”
“Of course,” she