full battle armor. He ignored his wife, who meekly trailed
in his righteous wake.
The deprecations Reede muttered were vile and scathing.
"Have somebody keep an eye on the house," he told the
deputy. "Let me know if anything he does looks suspicious
or even slightly fishy. Damn, I hate to let that bastard walk
out of here."
"Don't blame yourself," Alex said sympathetically. "You
conducted a thorough interrogation, Reede. You knew going
in you didn't have any real evidence."
He whirled on her, his eyes stormy. "Well, that sure as
hell hasn't ever stopped you, has it?" He stamped out, leaving
her speechless with indignation.
Alex returned to her cubicle, fumbled for the key in the
bottom of her handbag, and bent to unlock the door. She felt
a prickling sensation at the back of her neck that warned her
a heartbeat before the sinister whisper reached her ears.
"You've been corrupted by the ungodly. You're consorting
with Satan, showing no more shame than a whore who sells
herself." She spun around. Plummet's eyes had regained their
zealous glint. Spittle had collected to form white foam in the
corners of his mouth. His breathing was labored. "You betrayed
my trust."
"I didn't ask for your trust," Alex countered, her voice
husky with alarm.
"Your heart and mind have been polluted by the ungodly.
Your body has been tarnished by the stroke of the devil
himself. You--"
He was caught from behind and slammed against the wall.
"Plummet, I warned you." Reede's face was fierce. "Get
out of my sight or you're going to be spending some time in
jail."
"On what charge?" the preacher squealed. "You've got
nothing to hold me on."
"Accosting Miss Gaither."
"I'm God's messenger."
"If God has anything to say to Miss Gaither, He'll tell her
Himself. Understand? Understand!" He shook Plummet
again, then released him. He rounded on Mrs. Plummet, who
had flattened herself against the wall in horrified silence.
"Wanda, I'm warning you, take him home. Now!" the sheriff
bellowed.
Demonstrating more courage than Alex would have expected
from her, she grabbed her husband's arm and virtually
dragged him toward the staircase. Together, they stumbled
up the steps and disappeared around the corner at the landing.
Alex didn't realize how shaken she was until Reede's eyes
moved to the hand she had pressed against her pounding heart.
"Did he touch you, hurt you?"
"No." Then, shaking her head, she repeated, "No."
"Don't bullshit me this time. Did he make any threats?
Say anything I could use to nail his skinny ass?"
"No, just garbage about me selling out to the unrighteous.
He considers me the traitor in the camp."
"Get your things. You're going home."
"You don't have to ask me twice."
He took her coat off the rack near the door. He didn't hold
it for her; in fact, he almost threw it at her, but Alex was
touched by his evident concern for her safety. He pulled on
his leather, fur-trimmed jacket and cowboy hat as they went
upstairs and out the front door.
The Plummets must have taken his advice and left. They
were nowhere around. Darkness had fallen. Most of the
square was deserted. Even the B & B Cafe had closed for
the night. It catered to the breakfast and lunch crowd.
Her car was cold when she slid beneath the steering wheel.
"Start your motor to warm it up, but don't leave till I come
around in my truck. I'll follow you to the motel."
"That's not necessary, Reede. As you said, he's probably
a coward. People who make threats rarely carry them out."
"Yeah. Rarely," he said, stressing the word.
"I can take care of myself. You don't have to worry about
me."
"I'm not. It's me I'm worried about. You asked for trouble