The Night Killer

sense, of course. Diane hadn’t thought to come up with a coordinated plan. She was just going to wing it.
    The minister said grace. He mentioned the Barres and the Watsons and especially Roy Jr., who was still in critical condition in the hospital. A lot of tragedy for one church, thought Diane.
    Christine and Brian McEarnest and Spence Barre sat down opposite Diane and Frank. Two women came over with their plates of food, and the Barres scooted aside to allow them to sit opposite Diane. One was a woman about Christine’s age. She had thin brown hair and a narrow face. She looked pale, her hazel eyes were puffy, and she was thin. She wore a plain brown dress, no makeup or jewelry. The other woman looked a couple years older and, though heavier and taller, was so similar in facial structure that Diane thought they had to be sisters. She wore a navy suit and light makeup. Both looked so very sad.
    “I’m Lillian Watson Carver,” the older woman said. “This is my sister, Violet Watson. Welcome to our church.” She smiled at Diane, reached over, and shook her hand. “And thank you for looking into this. We are just overwrought. Nothing like this has ever happened in our family, ever.”
    “Was your person able to find anything?” asked Violet. She had a stronger voice than her appearance would suggest.
    Diane knew Violet meant the new autopsy, but she absolutely didn’t want to discuss that here—over food.
    “I’m sure she’ll tell us later,” whispered her sister.
    “Of course. What am I thinking? I’m sorry,” said Violet. “I just want this to end. I want the killer caught.”
    “That’s what I wanted to speak with you and your sister about,” said Diane. “Do you have any suspicions? Did your parents have any enemies?”
    “Oh, yes,” said Violet; her voice became a quaver. “Yes, they had enemies. They had people calling on the phone with threats.”
    Diane was surprised. She thought she was going to have to dig for information.
    “Do you know who was threatening them?” she asked.
    “Not who, by name, but I know where you can find them. Over at that . . . I won’t dignify them by calling it a church. That cult. Mom and Dad were getting constant calls from them about Dad wanting to develop the county,” said Violet.
    “Did they threaten violence?” asked Diane.
    “Veiled threats,” said Lillian, making a stern face.
    “The kind that, if they were questioned, they would say they were just warning them what the Lord would do. I don’t know where they got their information about the Lord, but it wasn’t from the Bible.”
    “What kind of things would they say to your parents?” asked Diane. She could see in her peripheral vision that the people next to them were interested in the conversation. But of course, they would be. Everyone knew why Diane was here.
    “They wouldn’t tell us exactly. Didn’t want to worry us. But the people at the other church were very upset at Dad’s plans.”
    “All he was trying to do,” said a woman down the table from them, “was find something that would keep the young people here. There’s no jobs here, except for the sawmill and a few stores. Our kids grow up and move away. We’re an aging county.”
    Diane saw several people nod their heads in agreement.
    “Joe Watson hired as many as he could at the mill and in his hardware store,” said another man. “But he couldn’t support everybody. He was trying to come up with an idea that would provide all kinds of different jobs for everybody, and it was a good idea.”
    “And Roy Barre was trying to help him,” said a young man at another table. “Why, just getting decent cell service would be a big deal here.”
    Diane saw most people nod their heads. Only a few looked at their plates and simply ate their food—among them the woman she first encountered. She could see this was a hot topic that probably gave rise to more than one argument. But lead to killing?
    “Do you think any of our neighbors would do your parents harm?” said the woman in the blue dress and pearls. “Truthfully, Violet.” She looked as though she couldn’t hold her thoughts in any longer.
    “Truthfully, Maud,” Violet said, “yes. When you describe your neighbor as conversing with the devil, then it’s easy to go the next step and decide they are evil and dangerous, an abomination to God, and it’s all right to kill them.”
    The woman in blue shook her head sadly. Diane could see she had friends in