Blindside

important: Tell Wade not to use sirens. I want a silent approach and I want them to stay outside and search for the guys who bombed my house. Tell them to be very careful.” She paused, smiled a bit. “Give the kids a kiss.” She flipped her cell off. “Turn here, Miles.”
    Miles was hunched over the steering wheel, trying to see through the rain and the fogged windshield. “He wants Sam beyond reason or else he would have given it up. This has nothing to do with money, this has to do with a madman, and what a madman believes.”
    That sounded simple, and exactly right, Katie thought. She said, “He must be well over the edge now, surely what happened tonight proves it. I wonder who he found to do this on such short notice. It’s got to be someone local, maybe someone from his congregation.”
    “I wonder if there were two guys or just one. The ability to talk just one member into doing something this crazy, much less two guys, boggles the mind. You said he was charismatic. I guess this proves it.”
    “When you put it like that, I guess one guy makes more sense. Still, we’ve got to be really careful.”
    Katie rolled down the window and stuck her hand out. “It’s not raining as hard.”

    “Your hand okay?”
    She didn’t answer, just pointed to the big Victorian house that had just come into view. “We’re not leaving without answers this time, Miles.”

32
    T he only sound they heard when they got out of the truck was the rain and the rustling of wet leaves. It was cold and there was no moon, not a single star, just fat bloated clouds, probably gathering energy for another deluge. There were no lights on in the big Victorian house.
    They were wet. Katie’s hat was still clamped down on her head, her hair coming out of its French braid, the white bandage on her hand soaked with rain. She could feel her boots squish as she walked.
    Katie rang the doorbell, such a mundane thing. There was no answer. She rang it again, then once more. She was smiling, as grim as Jesse Helms if he’d been a judge. Finally, she slammed her fist against the large wooden door.
    She kept pounding until, at last, Reverend McCamy’s angry voice shouted, “Who is this? What is going on here? Go away!”
    The door jerked open. Reverend McCamy, dressed in pajamas, dressing gown, and bedroom slippers, stood there, his face a study of anger and something else, something that was beyond what they could begin to understand.
    “Who is it, Reverend McCamy?”

    They heard the light sound of footfalls coming down the stairs. Elsbeth McCamy came to stand beside her husband, staring at them.
    She was wearing a pink silk robe that came only to her knees; it was obvious she was wearing absolutely nothing underneath. Her feet were bare. Her hair was tousled around her face and tangled down her back, and for once, she wasn’t wearing her earrings.
    Reverend McCamy, his dark eyes fathomless and sharp, raised his hands to his hips, and stared at them. They stared back. Finally, he said slowly, “What is the meaning of this, Sheriff? Do you have any idea at all what time it is?”
    Katie actually smiled at Reverend McCamy, showing him lots of teeth, and waved her bandaged hand in a shooing motion. “Do invite us in, Reverend McCamy. And I think a cup of coffee would be nice too. It’s been a hard night.”
    “No, I’m not letting either of you in my house until you tell me what’s going on. You both look filthy.”
    “Well, that’s true,” Katie said. “Naturally, since I’ve had my house burned down and we’ve been running around in the rain, I guess you’d have to expect that.”
    Still, he didn’t move. “Your house caught on fire? I’m sorry about that, Sheriff, but it doesn’t have anything to do with us. I don’t want to give you any coffee. I want you both to leave.”
    Katie paused a moment. “Well, there’s something else, Reverend, something you should know.” She waited, letting this soak in, then said, looking straight into those mad prophet’s eyes, “As a result of your hiring incompetent help, Sam is in the hospital with severe injuries.”
    Miles didn’t blink.
    Reverend McCamy’s mouth worked, but nothing came out.
    Elsbeth cried out, “What do you mean Sam is in the hospital? What’s wrong with him?”

    Reverend McCamy whispered, “No, this can’t happen. Tell me he will be all right.”
    “We don’t know yet.”
    “I’m a minister, I will go to him,” said Reverend McCamy and