“The agents would like to speak to us.”

“Take them to the living room. I’ll see if Mr. and Mrs. Coombs can wait for ten minutes.” He raised an eyebrow as Sherlock said, “Ten minutes sounds just fine.”

Elsbeth McCamy waved them into the living room. She eyed the children again. “Hello, Keely. Can you introduce me to this little boy?”

“I’m not a little boy,” Sam said. “I’m six.”

“I see. And what is your name?”

“Sam. I’m Sam.”

Sherlock was watching her carefully when she looked at Sam. She saw nothing but an adult being polite to a child.

“No, you’re not little at all. I’m Mrs. McCamy, Sam. Welcome to my home. Do you like it here in Jessborough?”

Sam gave this some thought. “Well, those two men who kidnapped me are dead. Maybe things are better now.”

“Yes, I hope so.”

“We’re very sorry about Clancy’s death, Mrs. McCamy. The medical examiner finished this morning and he wanted me to ask you if you wanted to take care of the arrangements.”

“No, I don’t want to. Let Tennessee do it. Clancy had been bad for a very long time.” She paused a moment, and looked down at Sam. “Did you know that Clancy was my brother?”

24

Sam stared up at her, then he shook his head. “Really?” Sam said. “Why did your brother take me?”

“I don’t know, dear. We haven’t been close for many years now.”

“I wouldn’t want to be close to Fatso either.”

“I can see your point.”

Reverend McCamy said from the doorway, “So you’re Sam Kettering, the little boy who was kidnapped.”

“I’m not little,” Sam said.

“He’s six,” Elsbeth said.

“You look pretty little to me,” the reverend said, ignoring his wife as he walked forward to stand over Sam.

“You’re old,” Sam said, staring up at him. “That’s why you’re bigger than me.”

“Do you think Agent Savich is old?” Reverend McCamy asked, not smiling, his dark eyes intent on Sam’s face.

“Well, sure, he’s even taller than you, but he’s really strong. I’ve seen him and my dad throw each other all over the place at the gym. They punch each other, yell insults, and groan, and then they’re laughing.”

“Sam’s father and I work out together occasionally,” Savich said to Reverend McCamy. “Sam, why don’t you and Keely check out that fireplace. It looks pretty old and big to me.”

Sam said, never looking away from Reverend McCamy, “Did you push your aunt down the stairs, sir?”

There was dead silence in the living room. Bad idea to bring the kids, Savich thought, but on the other hand, you never knew what could shake loose. So much for the kids watching TV in the other room. Savich watched the reverend’s face. He was pale, too pale, except for the dark beard stubble, and now, perhaps, he’d paled just a bit more. He looked like an old-time zealot in all that black with those burning eyes of his. He gave Savich the creeps.

Reverend McCamy shook his head. He reached out his hand to touch Sam, then drew it back. “Why no, I didn’t. Why would you think I did, Sam?”

Sam shrugged. “I don’t know, sir. Some grown-ups do really bad things. Like Beau and Fatso.”

“Fatso? Oh, you mean Clancy. Yes, what you said, that’s true enough, and you have good reason to know that. But I’m a man of God, Sam. My mission in life is to bring others to Him, to accept how He suffered for all of us, how He atoned for our sins, even Beau’s and Clancy’s. And He allows some of us to experience His own sacrifice.”

“I wish you’d brought Fatso and Beau to God,” Sam said, “before they took me away from my dad.”

“Well, who knows? Maybe they were thinking about God when they took you. We’ll never know, will we? Not all men are capable of achieving anything like goodness. Are you good, Sam?”

Sam didn’t say a word, just stared up at Reverend McCamy.

Keely said, “He’s a boy, but I think he’s a little bit good.”

Reverend McCamy said, “You’re the sheriff’s daughter, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” Keely said, hugging Savich’s pant leg. “You look like a man in one of my mama’s old movies, you know, black and white before there were colors. I don’t like black and white.”

Savich smiled, just couldn’t help it, but he saw that Reverend McCamy didn’t appreciate the child’s wit. There was no change in his expression, but Savich felt something dark and brooding coming over him, something he didn’t understand. But all McCamy said was, “Elsbeth, why don’t you take the children to the kitchen and give them some lemonade.”