Hip and trendy for a man of God.
Dominic shook hands with the guy. “Sorry for the inconvenience, Pastor. We won’t be in your way for long.”
The pastor’s lips pulled back in distaste. “I suppose it was inevitable considering whose grave this is.”
Ava canted her head to one side. “Do a lot of people visit the grave?”
Dominic perked up at that question.
The man nodded. “Absolutely. We get a lot of traffic because of our famous resident.”
“Any regular visitors?” Ava asked.
“Quite a few actually.”
“Do you know any of their names?” Dominic asked, his interest sharpening.
The pastor looked surprised. “No, I mean,” he shrugged and looked around, “they aren’t local residents.”
Dominic did that thing he did when he wanted someone to keep talking. “Aren’t local residents?”
“Well, I mean they might be, I don’t know everyone around here, but I don’t think so. They certainly don’t come to church on a Sunday, but that seems to be dying off anyway.”
“Galveston is buried in a family plot, is that correct?” Dominic asked.
The pastor nodded and cleared his throat. “Yes. I wasn’t here at the time, of course, but the Galveston family owned most of the land around here. They donated this acreage to the church on the condition any direct descendants had the right to be buried here.”
“Almost like they knew it would come in handy one day,” Ava quipped.
The pastor smiled. From the way his eyes drifted over her body he hadn’t taken any vows of celibacy.
She blinked in surprise. He made her oddly uncomfortable.
“Do you have some sort of book these visitors might have signed?” Dominic asked.
“Why, yes, although I don’t know if they did or not.” The pastor’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down a few times. “I try not to spy on people when they are here paying their condolences no matter who they happen to be grieving for. If you follow me, I’ll show you where the visitor book is so you can look at it.”
“Ava,” Dominic ordered.
Damn. She didn’t want to leave him but could hardly disobey a direct order. Plus, he should be safe enough with Agent Pine.
When the pastor turned around and started to walk away, Dominic stopped her with a hand around her wrist and leaned close to her ear. “Watch your back. I don’t trust him.”
“Yes, sir. And you watch your back too. This place is freaking me out,” she said quietly.
“Scared of ghosts, Agent Kanas?” Dominic’s smile was hard.
“No, sir. I’m scared of people.” And right now, she didn’t trust anyone. Not even the dead guy.
Dominic gave her a grin that made her heart flip like a landed salmon. She heaved a sigh as she followed the pastor to the old church. Despite everything she’d told herself, she was falling for Dominic. If she wasn’t careful, she’d be cooking beef casseroles and holding out her heart in her hands for him to trample all over.
Goddammit.
She winced then and went inside the church with a silent apology. It was freezing inside, nothing like the heat of their Virginian summer in this part of the country.
Pastor Elgin led her to the back of the church and picked up a visitor book that sat on a side table alongside a black pen. Part of Ava wanted to bag the lot for evidence, but what would it prove? Nothing conclusive except the need for hand sanitizer was real.
She followed Elgin into a side corridor and through to a room with a small couch and TV, a sink, fridge and coffee making facilities.
“Can I make you a drink?”
The image of Dominic being pried out of his Lexus jumped into her head.
“No thanks. Water would be good though. I’ll do it. I don’t want to cause you any trouble,” she insisted and gave the man a bright smile. He brushed against her to reach up for a glass from a shelf.
Ava rolled her eyes as she took the glass from him. She couldn’t decide if he thought he was God’s gift—understandable under the circumstances—or was slightly clueless about personal space. Yeah, she’d never been big on the clueless excuse. Different cultures had different personal space limits, but they were all Americans here.
She filled her glass and took a long drink of water without taking her eyes off the guy. She wiped her mouth. “How long have you worked here, Pastor?”
He blinked, and she noticed he had freckles and bright blue, guileless eyes. “About five years now. I can’t believe it’s been that long, actually. Before that I was in college doing a Ph.D. in theology.” He rubbed his hands over his forearms. This place was an icebox.
“Did you pick the parish or did the parish pick you?”
He laughed. She noticed a red patch of skin when he rolled up his sleeve.
“A bit of both, I suppose. I applied for the job when the last pastor moved away and was lucky enough to be chosen. I’d had a position as a deacon in Connecticut before this.”
“Good pay?” Ava asked with a smile. You really did get more from people when you were friendly.
He shook his head. “Terrible, but I get decent accommodations included, and it really is a beautiful part of the world.”
“Even with a serial killer in the graveyard?”
“Let he who is without sin cast the first stone.” The pastor’s tone was mocking rather than sanctimonious.
“Very Christian of you.” Ava smiled and washed up her glass and put it on the counter to drain. Then she went over and sat at the small table and pulled on gloves to page through the visitor book. You couldn’t be too careful.
The first entry in the book was dated four years ago. “Do you have the books for the years before this?” she asked. “Specifically, ten years ago when Galveston was first buried?”
He straightened. “I don’t know. They should be around here somewhere. Let me look for them.”
“Ever heard of a woman called Caroline Perry? Or a guy named Karl Feldman?”
Elgin frowned. “No. Should I have?”
“Just curious.” Ava started leafing through the book, working backwards. The answers were somewhere. It was just a question of figuring out where.