Divine Evil

Dad's.”
    “Dad's?” His fingers went limp on her shoulders. Whatever he had suspected, whatever he had feared, it had never been this. “What do you mean they were Dad's?”
    “I found them in the attic, in the boxes Mom storedaway. She'd saved most of his books and some other things. His gardening shirt and his—his broken compass. The rocks he'd collected when he took that trip to the Grand Canyon. Blair, I thought she'd gotten rid of everything.”
    “So did I.” He felt like a child again, confused, vulnerable, sad. “Let's sit down.”
    They sat on the half step between the kitchen and the garage. “It always seemed, after he died, that she just—put it all behind her. You know.” Clare gripped her hands together, holding them between her knees. “I resented that, the way she picked up and went on. I knew—in my head I knew—that she had so many things to deal with. The business falling apart, the awful scandal with the shopping center. The fact that even though it was ruled an accident, everyone wondered if he'd jumped. She just handled everything so well. In my heart I hated her for it.”
    He slipped an arm around her shoulders. “She had us to worry about, too.”
    “I know. I know that. It just seemed that she never stumbled, you know? She never faltered or fell apart, so a part of me always wondered if she'd ever really cared. Then I found all those things, the way she'd boxed them up so carefully, keeping all those little junky things that had meant so much to him. I realized, I think I realized, how she might have felt when she'd done it. I wished she'd let me help her.”
    “You weren't in any shape to help. It was worse for you, Clare. You found him. I never saw …” He shut his eyes a moment and leaned his head against hers. “Neither did Mom. We all lost him, but you were the only one who had to see. She stayed up with you all that first night.”
    Clare looked back at him, then down at her feet. “I didn't know.”
    “Doc Crampton sedated you, but you kept calling out in your sleep. And crying.” When she lifted a hand to Blair, he gripped it hard. “She sat by the bed all night. Everything happened so fast after that. The funeral, then the story breaking about the kickbacks.”
    “I wish I understood. I wish I understood any of it.”
    They sat silently for a moment, hip to hip. “Tell me about the books.”
    “I found them upstairs. You know how Dad used to read anything—everything.” She was talking too fast and rose, hoping to slow herself down. “Religion was a kind of obsession with him. The way he was raised …”
    “I know.” Obsessions. Rebellions. Power. Good God.
    “Well, he just devoured stuff like that. From Martin Luther to Buddha and everything in between. I guess he was just trying to figure out what was right. If anything was right. It doesn't mean anything.”
    He rose as well, to take both of her nervous hands. “Have you told Cam?”
    “Why should I?” Panic sprang into her voice. “It doesn't have anything to do with him.”
    “What are you afraid of?”
    “Nothing. I'm not afraid of anything. I don't even know why we're talking about this. I'm just going to put the books back in the attic.”
    “Cam's working on the theory that Biff's death and the attack on Lisa MacDonald might be tied up with a cult.”
    “That's ridiculous. And even if it has some merit, which it doesn't, it hardly applies to Dad. He's been dead for more than ten years.”
    “Clare, be logical. This is a small, close-knit community. If there's a cult going on in this town and you found a library on Satanism in somebody's house, what conclusion would you draw?”
    “I don't know.” She pulled her hands away. “I don't see that it applies.”
    “We both know that it applies,” he said quietly. “Dad is dead, Clare. He doesn't need you to protect him.”
    “He wouldn't have had anything to do with this kind of thing. Christ, Blair, I read the books, too. I'm not going to go out and sacrifice a virgin.”
    “You sent Cam out to the farm because you'd seen one book in Biff's den.”
    She looked up. “You seem to know a lot about what's going on.”
    “I told you, I'm helping him with research. My point is, you thought that one book was enough to warrant his investigating. And you were right. Do you know what he found?”
    “No.” She wet her lips. “I didn't ask. I don't want to know.”
    “He found evidence that Carly Jamison had been held