Sherlock said, “When did you last see Clancy?”

“He’d just been released from one of his stays in prison, some six years ago, I think. Naturally he was back in prison for something else after that. When I heard there were two men, one of them named Clancy, I never thought it could be my brother. Are you certain he kidnapped that little boy, Katie?”

Katie nodded. “Yes. We are certain that your brother and a man named Beau Jones kidnapped Sam Kettering and brought him here. They kept him in Bleaker’s cabin until the boy managed to escape.”

Elsbeth’s eyes dropped to her hands, now even more tightly clasped in her lap. “I heard about it, of course. Everyone in the congregation was talking about it. We stopped at the pharmacy this morning and Alice Hewett couldn’t talk of anything else, particularly since she’d sold that other man some bandages.”

Katie said, “He hasn’t contacted either of you for help?”

“Oh no,” Elsbeth said. “Why would he do that? Surely he must know that Reverend McCamy wouldn’t help him. Why, he’s a devout man of God. He feels deep pain at the actions of sinners.”

Sherlock said, “All right, Mrs. McCamy. I can certainly understand wanting to help a brother just as I can understand a sister not wanting to help the police find him.”

“Oh no! Lying is a sin. I wouldn’t do that, ever. Just ask Reverend McCamy. I don’t ever lie.”

Reverend Sooner McCamy said, “I assure you, my wife doesn’t lie. Now, Agent Sherlock, Clancy hasn’t called either of us. If he’s guilty of kidnapping that little boy, both Elsbeth and I hope that you catch him and send him back to prison.”

Sherlock said, “If he wouldn’t call you, Mrs. McCamy, then do you have any idea whom he might contact? Does he have any friends close by? Family?”

Elsbeth shook her head. “Clancy doesn’t know anyone in these parts.”

Except you, Sherlock thought. Only you.

“How do you think he knew about Bleaker’s cabin?”

“I don’t know, Katie.”

Katie said, “Thank you for speaking with us. If Clancy does contact you, Elsbeth, if he does ask you to hide him, if he does ask you for money, I hope you will call me immediately. You heard, I know, that his partner, Beau Jones, died last night.”

“We heard that you shot him, Katie,” Reverend McCamy said. “You killed him.”

Sherlock heard the cold disapproval in his voice, no chance of missing it. Why?

“Hurting a man, actually killing a man, it’s very bad,” Elsbeth said, clearly distressed.

Katie said, “There wasn’t a choice, Elsbeth. He would have killed someone else if I hadn’t stopped him. Now it’s Clancy who’s in danger. There’s a huge manhunt going on right now for him, as I’m sure both of you know. I really don’t see this ending well for Clancy if you don’t help us find him.”

Elsbeth said, her voice shaking, nearly on the verge of tears, “I’m sorry, Katie. I don’t have any idea where Clancy could be. I don’t understand why he would kidnap a little boy and bring him here to Jessborough.”

Sherlock said, “Obviously Bleaker’s cabin is a good out-of-the-way place to store a kidnap victim. But it has to be more than that. Most likely someone locally wanted Sam Kettering brought here.”

Katie said, “It’s all quite a mystery. There was no ransom note left, no calls made in the two days he was gone from his home in Virginia.”

Sherlock said, “Do you have any idea at all why your brother would bring Sam here, Mrs. McCamy? Other than to use Bleaker’s cabin?”

Elsbeth looked from Katie to Sherlock. Then she said to her husband, “Reverend McCamy, you know that I know nothing about any of this. Could you make them believe me, please?”

“Well, the thing is, Elsbeth,” Katie said before the reverend could jump in, although, truth be told, he didn’t look like he was even very interested. No, fact was, he looked like he wasn’t really here. “You’re the only one Clancy knows in the area. Someone also reported seeing a man who looked like him near your house. I think that’s enough to have a judge issue a warrant to search your house, unless, of course, you give us permission to look around right now?”

Sherlock saw that Reverend McCamy was back, all of his focus, all of his brain was back in the living room, and he knew he had a problem. He stood, looking like an avenging prophet. “You may not search my house, Agent, Sheriff. Get your godless warrant, but I really doubt you’ll be able to talk a judge into it.” Of course, he realized that any search would turn up his party room, and the good Lord knew that would never do.