Blindside

bad situation, Katie. Those folks of his, all they do is lie around drunk and bitch.”
    “I’ve got an idea,” Katie said, gave Linnie a small salute, and drove her truck to the local middle school.
    Savich looked up to see Sherlock tuck her cell phone back in her shirt pocket. They were in their bedroom at Mother’s Very Best. He was still sitting forward, trying to ignore the constant throb in his back, working on MAX.
    “What did the medical examiner have to say?”
    “Clancy,” Sherlock said as she bounced up and down on the bed a couple of times, “was stronger than a bull, ate like a pig, and had arteries clogged all the way to his ears. Katie’s bullet killed him. Nothing more, nothing less.” She eased off the bed, smoothed down the covers and walked to her husband. She leaned down and kissed his mouth. She felt the immediate hitch in his breath, and stood again. “About all we can do is play with my hair rollers,” she said, a wealth of disappointment in her voice.
    “Where are they?”
    Sherlock laughed. “You’ve been working on MAX all afternoon. What have you got?” She affectionately patted the laptop as she spoke. At least Dillon didn’t have to worry about the math teacher killer case since Jimmy Maitland had told him to chill out until he was better.
    “I’ve been reading about Reverend Sooner McCamy. He’s fifty-four years old, born near Nashville, Tennessee, went to Orrin Midvale Junior College, married and divorced once, no children. He sold cars at the Nashville Porsche dealership, and did very well financially. Then he quit and moved to his rich aunt’s house here inJessborough. He hasn’t done anything since then to earn money, I guess because he didn’t have to. He married Elsbeth Bird of Johnson City ten-plus years ago when she was only about twenty-four and he was forty-four. He didn’t become a preacher until about six years ago.”
    He tapped his fingertips together, frowned down at MAX, who was humming placidly.
    “He’s married to Elsbeth four years before he finds his calling?”
    “Apparently. But when the calling hit him, it hit him hard. Suddenly he’s the founder and leader of this pretty strange-sounding church, the Sinful Children of God.”
    “He didn’t go to a seminary?”
    “Nope.”
    “Hmm. What did his aunt die of?”
    Savich’s back was throbbing like the very devil.
    She hated seeing the pain in his eyes. “You’re taking a pill, buddy, no arguments.”
    After he’d swallowed the pill, she made him sit for a few minutes until his back stopped throbbing. He said, “Let’s see about that aunt. She died something like six months after Sooner married Elsbeth. They both lived with the aunt in that lovely big house that his aunt, Eleanor Marie McCamy Ward, inherited from her husband. Ah, do you have Katie’s cell? Ask her.”
    Katie answered immediately and listened. She said, “That’s an excellent question, Sherlock. I’m in the middle of a delinquent problem right now, but I’ll get back to you.”
    When Sherlock hung up, she said, “Katie will check it out. We’re having dinner tonight at Katie’s mom’s. You can tell each other what you know about Sooner McCamy and she can tell us all about Aunt Eleanor Marie. Do you want Agent Hodges to come?”
    “Sure, the more we compare notes the better. I think Miles is still with Sam and Keely, even though Katie’s mother volunteered to watch them.”

    “But Miles didn’t want Sam out of his sight.”
    “You got it. I told him to come here—”
    There was a knock on the door, then Sam’s voice, “Uncle Dillon! Aunt Sherlock! We’re here.”
    Savich slowly rose. He knew the pain would knock him on his butt if he moved too fast. He took a handful of Sherlock’s hair, kissed her—lust, pain, frustration in that kiss. “I want to do something with those big hair rollers later.”
    She said against his jaw, “I’ve been thinking that just maybe we can figure something out that won’t hurt you too much.”
    That perked him up.

23
    T hey went to Katie’s mom’s for dinner, a large ranch-style home built in the sixties located in the middle of Jessborough on Tulip Lane. She’d lived there for twenty-nine years with her husband. Now, she lived with two canaries, three King Charles spaniels, and an aquarium, temporarily empty. She was serving a huge tuna casserola that the kids would love, Minna Benedict had assured Miles when she met him at the front door.
    “Is that the