Blindside

Sam’s.
    Sherlock said, “We’re going to have lunch with your mom, Keely, and your dad, Sam. So that means you need to hang out with me and Uncle Dillon for a while, okay? I doubt any cartoons will be playing in this house, so you’ll have to be patient.”
    “She means she doesn’t want us to whine,” Keely told Sam, who nodded, then asked, “Where’s my dad?”
    “He had some calls to make, you know, Conrad Evans at the plant. He said he needed you guys out of his hair for a while.”
    “He always says that,” Sam said, “but then he says he can’t wait to see me again.”
    Savich smiled. “That, Sam, is what’s known as a parent’s curse.”

    Elsbeth McCamy came to the door after another minute had passed. She stared at the two agents, then she stared at the children.
    “May we speak to you, Mrs. McCamy?” Sherlock said. “Forgive us for bringing the children, but we were the only two free adults.”
    “Yes, of course. Do come in. Reverend McCamy,” she called out, “two FBI agents are here and they’ve brought children.”
    It really was very old-fashioned of her to call her husband Reverend McCamy, Savich thought. But Elsbeth McCamy didn’t look the least bit old-fashioned in her tight low-slung jeans and white tube top that left three inches of bare belly showing. She was wearing a belly button ring, a delicate circle of gold. And her Jesus earrings were shining bright in the morning light pouring through the front windows.
    Reverend Sooner McCamy was wearing his patented black pants, a white shirt, and a black jacket. When he came out of his study down the hall, he looked harassed. “Elsbeth, I’m ministering to Mr. and Mrs. Coombs.”
    “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
    S am 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,