Blindside

this, Reverend?”
    “You must recognize and accept the divine presence, Katie. You must believe that it is too overwhelming for mankind to fathom, that it must be the expression of ultimate faith. Thus the godless have sought to belittle this divine ecstasy, to trivialize it, to turn it into some sort of freak show. But it isn’t, for I have had my blood flow from my own palms.”
    Miles said, fed up with this fanatic, his strange wife, and the damned brownies in the oven, “This is all very fascinating, McCamy, but can you tell me why Clancy and Beau kidnapped my son?”
    It was as if someone flipped off the light switch. Reverend McCamy’s eyes became even darker, as if a black tide was roiling up through his body. He shuddered, as if bringing himself out of someplace very deep, very faraway. He said, “Your son is one of God’s children, Mr. Kettering. I will pray for your son, and I will ask God to intercede.” With that, Reverend McCamy turned and walked out of the kitchen. After a moment, they heard him call out, “Elsbeth, bring the brownies to my study when they’re done. You don’t have to cool them.”
    She nodded, even though he was no longer there. “Yes, Reverend McCamy.”
    Katie said to Elsbeth, “Sam is a wonderful little boy. I will not allow him to be taken again. Do you understand me, Elsbeth?”
    “Go away, Katie. Go away and take that godless man with you.”
    “I’m not godless, ma’am. I just don’t worship quite the same God you and your husband do.”
    When they were driving away from that lovely house, Miles said, “That was excellent questioning. I just don’t know what it got us.”
    “I don’t either,” Katie said. “But I discovered I could pry him open.”
    “They’re in on this, Katie.”
    “Yes,” she said. “I think so, too.”
    Miles slammed his fist against the steering wheel. “Why, for God’s sake? Why?”

29
    S am and Keely were playing chess, loosely speaking, given that Keely had had only two lessons. Katie had a No-TV rule during the week so the house was quiet, with just a soft layer of light rock coming from the speakers, and an occasional ember popping in the fireplace. The air felt thick, heavy. Another big storm was coming.
    “No, Sam,” Keely said, “you can’t do that. The rook has to go in straight lines, he can’t go sideways.”
    “That’s boring,” said Sam, and moved his bishop instead because he liked the long diagonal. The only problem was he stopped his bishop in front of a pawn, which Keely promptly removed. Sam yelled out, then sat back, stroked his chin like his father did, and said, “I will think about this and then you’ll be very sorry.”
    Keely crowed.
    “Killers, both of them,” said Miles, happy to see Sam acting like a normal kid again.
    Katie and Miles were seated on opposite ends of the long sofa, doing nothing but sipping coffee and listening to the fascinating chess moves made by two children whose combined age was eleven.

    Two deputies, Neil Crooke, who got no end of grief for his name, and Jamie Beezer, who did a great imitation dance of Muhammad Ali in his heyday, were outside watching the house. When Neil called to ask if he could go unlock ancient Mr. Cerlew’s 1956 Buick for him since he’d locked his keys in it, Katie said go, but get back as soon as possible.
    She excused herself a moment, and came back into the living room with a plate of brownies in her hands. “They’re not homemade like Elsbeth’s, but I’ll tell you, the Harvest Moon bakery can’t be beat.”
    Miles took a brownie, saying, “You think they’re better than the ones Elsbeth McCamy made?”
    “We’ll never know, at least I hope we won’t. Kids? Can the chess battle stop for a brownie break?”
    When the plate was empty, in just under four minutes, Miles sat back and laced his fingers over his belly. He stretched out his legs, crossed them at the ankles, and leaned his head back against the sofa. He said as he closed his eyes, “It’s Wednesday night. I’ve known you since Saturday. Isn’t that amazing?”
    Katie slowly nodded even though she knew he couldn’t see her, and said, “We’re sitting here like two folks who’ve been sitting here for a very long time.” Except for the SIG tucked into the waistband of her jeans and the derringer strapped at her ankle.
    That was sure the truth, Miles thought.
    Katie stared at the glowing embers in the fireplace that periodically spewed up a mist of color. “It