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SILENT KILLER
If anyone noticed her, they would think nothing of seeing her inside the gazebo alone. No one must ever suspect the truth. If anyone discovered her identity, they would put an end to her righteous executions.
No one could help her. No one could change the past. But she had the power to change not only her future, but the future of others. She must be the protector of the weak and defenseless, those without the power to overcome their oppressors. By slaying those who did not deserve to live, she could wash away her own sins, the sin in which she had been born.
Only men were capable of the kinds of carnal evil that required death by fire. Although not blameless, women were to be spared until the final day of judgment.
“Will I visit Dewan Phillips next?” she asked aloud. “Or is it time to strike against Donnie Hovater?”
She prayed in earnest until her knees ached and tears streamed down her face. And then, finally, God spoke to her. Softly. Quietly. As gentle as the rustle of the wind. But she heard him.
“Yes, of course,” she whispered. “I knew in my heart that he would be next. And yes, I will not wait. I will mete out his just punishment tomorrow night….”
Books by Beverly Barton
AFTER DARK
EVERY MOVE SHE MAKES
WHAT SHE DOESN’T KNOW
THE FIFTH VICTIM
THE LAST TO DIE
AS GOOD AS DEAD
KILLING HER SOFTLY
CLOSE ENOUGH TO KILL
MOST LIKELY TO DIE
THE DYING GAME
THE MURDER GAME
COLD HEARTED
SILENT KILLER
Published by Zebra Books
SILENT KILLER
BEVERLY BARTON
Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Chapter Twenty-nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-one
Chapter Thirty-two
Chapter Thirty-three
Chapter Thirty-four
Chapter Thirty-five
Prologue
Catherine Cantrell loved her husband. She hadn’t always loved Mark, not in the beginning. But day by day, month by month, year by year, she had grown to care for him deeply. He had become her best friend as well as her husband. She only hoped that she was a worthy helpmate. God knew she tried her best to be everything he wanted in a wife.
The oven timer chimed, reminding her that the apple pie she had prepared from scratch was done. As she donned a pair of oven mitts, Mark breezed into the kitchen. When she smiled warmly at him, he returned her smile. She opened the oven door, reached inside and removed the hot pie, then set it on a cooling rack atop the granite counter.
“Something smells good,” he told her as he placed his empty coffee mug in the dishwasher.
“Apple pie for dinner,” she said.
When he nodded approval, something inherently feminine within her longed for him to touch her. She needed a kiss on the cheek or a pat on the butt or a little hug around her shoulders. Any basic act of affection would do. But Mark was not the affectionate type. She should have accepted that fact long ago. After all, it wasn’t as if they were newlyweds or a couple who had been and always would be madly in love. But they did have a solid marriage, one based on mutual respect and admiration. That was far more than most couples had.
“How’s next Sunday’s sermon going?” Catherine asked.
“Not well. For some reason I can’t seem to keep my mind on my work this afternoon.”
On Mondays, Mark worked at home instead of his office at the church. And she was home on Mondays, too, since she and her business partner, Lorie Hammonds, closed their antique store on Sundays and Mondays.
“You were up late last night with the Jeffries family. I heard you come in after midnight.” Catherine removed the oven mitts, stuffed them into the drawer with the pot holders and turned off the oven. “And you were so restless that I doubt you got more than a few hours’ sleep. Maybe you need an afternoon nap.”
“I couldn’t get that family off my mind,” Mark admitted. “It’s been difficult for Debbie and Vern coping with the loss of their only child. It has truly tested their faith.”
“Losing a child has to be the worst thing that could happen to a person. If anything ever happened to Seth, I don’t know what I’d do.”
“If, God forbid, that ever happened, and we lost our only child, we would do what I’m trying to get Debbie and Vern to do—put our trust in the Lord.”
Catherine sighed quietly. A good minister’s wife would never question God’s plan for each of His children. But in her heart of hearts, she knew that if she ever lost Seth, she would die. Her son was her heart and soul.
When Mark looked at her, apparently wanting a reply to assure him that they were in agreement, she avoided making direct eye contact with him. She didn’t doubt Mark’s love for Seth, but she also knew that her husband would never love their child as much as she did.
“Catherine—”
The distinct doorbell chime saved her from having to either lie to her husband or disagree with him and be lovingly chastised for her lack of faith.
“I’ll get it,” she said. “Why don’t you go in the den and take a nap?”
“Maybe later. I’ll get the door. It could be FedEx delivering my birthday present.”
Catherine smiled indulgently. “We just ordered that new set of golf clubs two days ago. They probably won’t arrive until next week.”
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