Lie Down in Green Pastures. DEBBIE VIGUIE
dead," Cindy said, more to herself than Geanie.
"That's just weird."
"I know."
The front door opened and the youth pastor walked in, wearing his almost-perpetual blue jeans, paired today with a green polo shirt. Because of his position he got by with the casual Friday look every day of the week except Sunday. "Wow, did you guys see that accident out front?" Dave asked.
"Cindy did," Geanie answered.
"What a nightmare."
"Dr. Tanner is dead," Cindy said.
Dave turned pale and sat down in one of the chairs reserved for visitors. "Are you kidding?"
"No, why would I kid about something like that?"
He buried his face in his hands and his shoulders heaved.Geanie gave her a puzzled look as the implication hit Cindy."He drove the bus to camp every year," she realized."Even after he moved and changed churches."
"Summer camps and winter camps. He was a wonderful man," Dave said. "So good with the kids, so patient. I never knew how he could pay attention to the road with all the noise and chaos around him."
"He was a very nice man," Cindy said, going over and awkwardly patting him on the shoulder.
"I'm going to call Joseph and let him know," Geanie said. "I think the two of them sat on a couple of boards together."
"Why don't you go tell him in person," Cindy suggested.Joseph Coulter was the church's most affluent member. He and Geanie had been dating since Thanksgiving and she was sure he'd rather hear the news from his girlfriend than from someone else.
"Thanks, I'll be back before your lunch meeting," Geanie said, grabbing her purse and heading for the door.
"I'd appreciate it."
Geanie waved as she walked out the door.
After Geanie left, Cindy turned to Dave. "We've almost got a full slate of kids for next weekend. I'd better work on finding you another driver."
"Thanks," Dave said, dragging himself to his feet. "A couple of other churches are having retreats at the same time. I'll call around and see if any of them have room on their buses."
"Do you have Dr. Tanner's address? The police were asking for it."
Dave nodded. "In my office, I'll email it to you."
"Thanks."
He shuffled to the door, then turned. "How are we doing on food for the drive up?"
"Lunch bags will have corned beef sandwiches, courtesy of O'Connell's Pub, and shamrock cookies from Safeway."
"You're a genius."
"Hey, the second day of camp is on St. Patrick's Day. It was a no-brainer."
He smiled slightly. "You've been hanging around the kids too long. You're starting to sound like them."
"There are a lot worse things to sound like."
"Amen."
Detective Mark Walters was not happy. Ever since his dog, Buster, had woken him up that morning he'd had a feeling in his gut that the day was not going to go his way.
Being a homicide cop was challenging on the best of days, nightmarish on the worst. In the past year the worst days he'd had all involved Cindy and Jeremiah. Seeing them together, even though it had been at the scene of an accident, had made his blood run cold.
He called his partner, Paul Dryer, on his cell phone.
"Accident or murder?" Paul asked.
"Accident, so far as I can tell. If it wasn't, though, we'll know soon enough."
"What are the odds, huh?"
Mark snorted. "You ever meet civilians who got mixed up in stuff as much as these two?"
"Once," Paul admitted.
"Really? What happened?"
"It didn't end well," Paul said, voice suddenly devoid of emotion.
There's a story there. Out of respect for his partner, Mark didn't push. "Cindy just called me with the doctor's address and I'm going to have a couple of guys go to his house and reach out to the next of kin. Then I'm heading back to the station."
"Good. We've got actual homicides to investigate."
Mark hung up. Paul was acting touchy. Mark wondered if it had anything to do with the story he wasn't telling.
When he arrived at the police station, he found Paul waiting for him in the lobby, arms crossed.
"What do we have?" Mark asked.
"Randall Kelly, environmental activist. Died ten miles outside of town."
"Let's go."
Once they were in the car Paul explained. "Apparently he was protesting the misuse and destruction of the forestland. Fire department did a controlled burn in the area early this morning to clear out a lot of the dead trees and dry tinder."
"And they cleared out a little more than they bargained for," Mark said.
"Exactly."
"Sounds like an accident."
"Yeah, but the captain wants us to check it out anyway."
"Why not? I've already been to one accident today," Mark said with a sigh. "So, exactly what homicides were you referencing when I called?"
Paul shrugged. "We've still got a couple older cases to work, like that art dealer from a few months back."
"Or the Iranian student from last year. I know. Trust me, I don't forget a victim," Mark said.
"Hopefully Kelly isn't one of them, just a poor slob who was in the wrong place at the wrong time."
Like Jeremiah this morning.
They reached the burn line and were waved through by fire- fighters. A minute later they were pulling up a few hundred feet away from the scene of the accident.
Randall Kelly, or rather, what was left of him, was still handcuffed to a charred tree, half of which was little more than embers and ash. The flesh had been burned off the majority of the body with part of the face and arms more intact than the rest.
"Terrible way to die," Paul said.
"You're preaching to the choir," Mark said. "I'd rather be shot any day."
"Can you imagine seeing it coming and not being able to escape?"
"Makes you wonder what he did with the key, why he couldn't free himself."
"Maybe he dropped it? Swallowed it?" Paul said.
"Maybe, or maybe someone was supposed to come over today and let him go, friend or family member maybe."
The fire chief was standing at a respectful distance and Mark finally turned away to engage him, catching sight of the coroner arriving on scene out of the corner of his eye.
Mark had met the chief half a dozen times but he introduced himself anyway.
Jim shook his head. "One of these days we'll have to have a barbeque or something, meet under happier circumstances."
"Looks like we've already got something of a barbeque here," Mark said before he could stop himself.
"I trust you know that wasn't funny."
"Sorry," Mark said, wincing. Usually people apologized to him, not the other way around. "Tell me what happened."
"We were doing a controlled burn before the dry season, trying to