Deke drove straight to the New Community Church and following the signs found himself standing before a receptionist outside the pastor’s office. A flash of his badge and a brief explanation earned him an escort into the pastor’s office.
A thick man with near white hair rose from behind a massive hand-carved desk. He wore an expensive light gray suit, a silk tie, and gold cuff links. As he came out from behind the desk Deke noticed well-polished shoes and manicured hands.
“Officer Morgan, I’m Pastor Gary.”
“Thank you for seeing me.”
“My receptionist said this was about a murder.”
“Yes, sir. Rebecca Saunders.”
Pastor Gary’s face paled three shades. “Rebecca?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I saw her a couple of days ago.”
“Where?”
“At her offices.” He moved to one of two cushioned chairs in front of his desk and sat.
Deke took the other chair beside it. “How long have you known Rebecca?”
Pastor Gary’s gaze looked vacant as if still processing the information. “About six months.”
“Did you know a woman named Dixie Simmons?”
Pastor Gary rose, his eyes sharpening and then fading. “No.”
“The two women looked much alike.”
“I didn’t know her.”
“I did some checking. Dixie sang in your church about a year ago.”
“We seat upwards of a thousand people here on Sundays. And we have dozens of singers. I shake hands with them all but I don’t know them all.”
“Who books the singers?”
“The music director.”
Pastor Gary sat back in his chair and drummed his fingers. “I’m stunned by this news.”
Deke studied the man and didn’t doubt for a moment his shock was genuine. “You don’t happen to remember an Annie Rivers Dawson, do you?”
“I heard about her in the news. I checked church records and she did attend New Community when we were just starting. I also married her. But beyond that I’m sorry, I don’t remember her well. Poor soul.”
All three women had connections to Pastor Gary. New Community was a big church and coincidences did happen, but not too often in his book.
Deke handed Pastor Gary his card. “You’ll call me if you think of anything that might help me solve this case.”
Pastor Gary took the card, absently flicking the edge with his index finger. “Sure. Of course.”
Deke didn’t press, knowing he’d dig deeper and likely return to see the pastor. He said his good-byes and left. In his car he called Rick.
His brother picked up on the first ring. “Yeah.”
“See if there are notes in the files about Pastor Gary Wright. He married Annie. And he’s loosely connected to Dixie and my latest victim.”
“Think he could be your guy?”
“He’s connected to all three women.”
“Consider it done.”
Georgia Morgan was good at manipulation. The youngest of four and the only girl, she’d learned early on that she couldn’t win with strength. She’d tried to strong-arm her brother Alex once when she was ten and he’d gently pushed her aside as if she were a feather. She’d been mad, and she’d screamed until he’d given her what she’d wanted.
She’d attempted screaming again with Rick but the noise had gotten her mother’s attention. When her mother realized what she was up to, she’d sent Georgia to her room. Too much noise! As she’d stomped up the stairs of her parents’ house she’d glanced back and spied Rick grinning. She’d learned to keep her voice low, to wheedle and to cajole until she got exactly what she wanted.
She hoisted the box of chocolate glazed cupcakes up as she rang the bell of Rick’s house. Inside she heard Tracker’s deep woof and then Rick’s uneven gait.
The sound of his footsteps gave her pause. They’d nearly lost Rick six months ago. The family had huddled in the hospital waiting for the surgeon’s report. Though they were siblings with a reputation for verbal sparring no one had argued once that night. And when the doctor had announced Rick would live, she’d wept.
As much as guilt nudged her now, she wouldn’t spare Rick any of her manipulative ways. He’d been saying for months he didn’t want to be treated differently. As far as he was concerned the shooting had never happened. She’d give him exactly what he’d requested.
Her grin widening, she held up the cupcakes seconds before the door snapped open. Rick’s black hair stood on end as if he’d run his fingers through it once too often. He wore a threadbare UT T-shirt and faded jeans. Tracker nudged next to Rick’s thigh and sniffed.
Rick arched a brow. “What are you doing here?”
She held up the cupcakes. “Thought we could bond.”
Suspicion darkened his eyes. “Why?”
“Do we need an excuse?” She pouted, one of her signature moves. “We never see each other.”
A sigh hissed over his lips as he pushed open the door. “Fine. Come in.”
“Is that coffee I smell?”
“Just made a pot.”
“I have great timing.”
“Right.”
He padded barefoot through a sparsely decorated living room furnished with a couple of easy chairs and a wide-screen television. On the Big House dining table, he’d stacked boxes that smelled of must and dust. She wanted to ask if they were the Annie files? But she kept quiet, letting the smell of Colombian coffee pull her into the kitchen. She set the cupcakes on the table and opened the flap.
He pulled two Titans mugs from the cabinet and filled both with coffee. He dumped two teaspoons of sugar in his and added a splash of milk in hers.
“So how’s it going?” she asked, grinning.
He tossed her a wary glare as if nice from her was as unexpected as snow in July. “Good.”
She pushed the box of cupcakes toward him. “I’ve your favorite.”
He glanced in the box at the bright confections and then her as if he was expecting a punch line. “Really.”
“Yeah, sure, why not?”
“Or better, why?”
“Why what?”
“Why did you bring treats?”
She reached for her mug and took a sip. “Can’t I be nice to you once in a while?”
He laughed, hard. “Yeah, I guess you could but you never do. You aren’t the warm and fuzzy type.”
She considered his assessment and didn’t disagree. “Rick, I brought cupcakes. I’m not making a political statement.” She plucked a pink cake from the box and took a bite.
He eyed her an extra beat before selecting a vanilla with extra chocolate icing. He bit into it and his eyes closed, as he clearly savored the taste. “I don’t know why you decided to be nice but I’m glad you did.”
She arched a brow, growing slightly annoyed with him now. “You make me sound heartless.”
Silent, he popped the last of the cake in his mouth and grabbed another one. “Not heartless. Strategic.”