anxious relatives had been calling him, and bodies had turned up. Warning Tessa Gray about the aggressive recruiting practices of the Church of the Everlasting Sin had simply fallen down his list of priorities.
He was sorry about that now.
She'd been pointed out to him in town, from a distance; up close, she looked even more vulnerable, more fragile. And also very attractive.
With a slight, strained smile, she extended her hand, saying, "I'm sorry, Chief Cavenaugh. Jared didn't say much to me about Grace or the people he knew growing up here. He told me he left for college and never came back."
"No, as far as I know, he never did. We weren't close," he felt compelled to add, "so we didn't keep in touch."
Extremely attractive.
Don't be a jerk and hit on your dead childhood friend's widow when he's barely in the ground, Sawyer chided himself, holding that delicate hand as gently as he could manage--and very aware of DeMarco's silent attention. And don't provide the ghoul with his amusement for the day.
Even so, he heard himself saying, "Call me Sawyer, please."
"Thank you. I'm Tessa."
Sawyer forced himself to release her hand, very reluctantly. "If there's anything I can do to make things easier for you, Tessa, I hope you'll let me know." Idiot. Could you sound any more awkward?
"I appreciate that," she responded, grave now.
Belatedly, Sawyer introduced Robin Keever to the others, and then Ruth Hardin introduced Reese DeMarco to Tessa.
So now we all know who we are.
Sawyer didn't know why, but he couldn't seem to shut up the sarcastic voice in his head. It was, actually, a bit unnerving.
"The chief had some questions," DeMarco told Ruth. "What we heard was true. There was another body found in the river this morning."
"Oh, how awful." Ruth shook her head. "Do they know who it was?"
"The chief seemed to feel we might know that."
"That we might know? Why?"
"Because of Ellen, I gather."
"I don't understand."
"Neither do I," DeMarco said dryly.
The chief sounds like a moron.
Ruth looked at Sawyer. "Poor Ellen. We do feel that we failed her, Chief Cavenaugh." She sounded genuinely troubled. "If we had only known how upset she was--"
"Mrs. Hardin, no one here even reported Ellen Hodges missing, something I find surprising since she was clearly in the river at least a few days before her body was discovered. Nor has her husband or daughter been reported missing, despite the fact that neither can be found."
"Chief, our church is hardly a prison. We told you--showed you--that Ken and Wendy's clothing and other things are gone. That the family car is gone. Obviously, whatever caused Ellen to take her life--"
"She did not commit suicide," Sawyer said.
Ruth's chin jutted stubbornly. "I know what I believe, Chief. I'm very, very sorry Ellen couldn't find what she needed in our church, in us, but I am absolutely convinced that no one here had anything to do with this tragedy."
"Yes," Sawyer said. "I know you are." But not all of you are convinced. At least one of you knows otherwise.
He glanced at Tessa, a little surprised that she was so still and silent, and even more surprised when he caught her gaze for only an instant and saw an unexpected sharpness lurking in those big gray eyes.
Huh. Maybe not so vulnerable, after all?
"In any case," DeMarco said, his tone still dry, "excepting the Hodges, we're all present and accounted for, as I told the chief."
Ruth nodded. "Absolutely. Everyone was at morning prayers today."
"As I'm sure you'll all swear," Sawyer muttered.
"Of course. It's the truth."
I wish I could see something unexpected in her eyes . But, no. She believes what she's saying. She always does.
"I'd still like to talk to Reverend Samuel."
"The reverend is at his afternoon prayers, Chief. A very important private time of quiet and meditation for him, especially before evening services. And you don't, after all, have any evidence connecting the unfortunate person found today in the river with any