Mark downed a sixteen-ounce plastic cup of beer in two long gulps. Nick understood why the man was drinking so much when Bessie Jean asked him if he had any children.
Mark lowered his gaze to his cup in his hands. “My wife died last year. We didn’t have any kids. We were waiting until we got some of our bills paid off.”
Viola reached across the table and patted Mark’s hand. “We’re all terribly sorry about your loss, but you’ve got to get on with your life and try to look to the future. I’m sure your wife would have wanted you to.”
“I know, ma’am,” he replied. “With the drought, we all have to pick up work whenever we can. I’ve got my parents to look after, and Willie and Justin have families depending on them too.”
Willie pulled out his wallet to show off his family, a redheaded wife and three carrot-topped little girls. Justin wasn’t going to be outdone. He carefully removed the photo of his wife and handed it to Bessie Jean.
“Her name’s Kathy,” he said, pride radiating in his voice. “She’s due to have our first baby August first or thereabouts.”
“Are you expecting a boy or a girl?” Laurant asked.
Justin smiled. “Kathy and I decided we didn’t want to know. We want to be surprised.” Glancing over his shoulder at the bandstand, he said, “Kathy loves to dance. I sure wish she could be here.”
“We’re all putting in fourteen-hour days,” Mark said.
“It’s good money, so none of us mind,” Justin interjected.
“Justin, we haven’t properly thanked you for helping us with our garden,” Viola said. “As busy as you are, you made time to lend us a hand. I believe I’ll bake you a nice chocolate cake. It’s my specialty.”
“That’s very kind of you, ma’am, but we’re putting in long hours at the abbey, and I won’t be getting home until after dark. I sure do love chocolate cake though.”
Viola beamed. “Well then, I’m baking you one. I’ll just leave it on your doorstep or put it in your kitchen.”
Mark started talking about all the work they still had to get done before the anniversary. Willie ribbed Justin, teasing him about getting the easy work in the choir loft while they had to climb up and down the scaffolding with their paint cans.
“Hey, I’m doing my part,” Justin said. “The fumes from the varnish collect in that loft and make me light-headed. That’s why I take more breaks than you guys.”
“At least you’ve got your feet planted on the floor while you’re working. Willie and I are hanging by our necks half the time.”
“What are you doing in the loft?” Laurant asked.
“Tearing out the old, rotting wood and replacing it. There was a lot of water damage around the organ,” he added. “It’s tedious work, but it’s going to look real nice when I’m finished.”
“How do you like living at the Morrison’s house?” Bessie Jean asked.
“It’s okay,” Mark said, shrugging. “Justin thought we all should split the chores, so we each took a room to keep clean. It makes it easier.”
Nick devoured two hamburgers while he listened to the conversation. Feinberg had told him that Wesson had already ruled out these three men. He’d run a background check on all of them. They were farmers working as carpenters and racing against the clock to get renovations finished, but as far as Nick was concerned, they were still suspects. So was every other man attending the picnic. He wasn’t about to rule out anyone in Holy Oaks.
One of the high school boys tapped Laurant on her shoulder and asked her to dance. She graciously accepted before Nick could come up with a reason to object. He followed them to the edge of the dance floor and stood there with his arms folded across his chest, watching.
The band was playing an old Elvis Presley song. Laurant swayed to the music while her enthusiastic dance partner gyrated wildly in a circle around her. She had to duck his elbow a couple of times because the kid’s arms and legs were going every which way. Nick thought he looked like an extra in a bad karate movie, and he knew Laurant was having trouble maintaining a straight face. Other couples were giving the kid a lot of room, probably so they wouldn’t get kicked.
For the next hour she was dragged onto the dance floor again and again as the bandleader called out the dedications and played the requested songs. When Laurant wasn’t dancing, she helped clean up, and she was constantly being stopped by men and women, children too, to say hello. She moved through the crowd with an ease and comfort he envied.
She had told him that in Holy Oaks, people cared about one another, but now he was seeing it firsthand. He used to think it would drive him crazy if everyone knew what he was doing. Now he wasn’t so sure. It might be kind of nice. He didn’t know any of his neighbors in Boston. When he came home at night, he drove into the garage, went in his house, and stayed there until it was time to leave again. He had never had the time nor the inclination to interact with any of his neighbors. He didn’t even know if there were any children on the block.
Laurant was dancing with Justin now and was laughing at something he’d said. The song ended and Nick spotted a man about his age heading toward Laurant. He decided she’d done enough dancing for one night. He got to her first, pulled her into his arms, and kissed her.
“What was that for?”
“Because we’re in love,” he reminded her. “Have you been telling people how we met?”
“Oh, yes,” she answered. “I’ve told the story at least twenty times now.”
“And did you tell them what the experts are saying about your stalker?”
She nodded against his chin, then put her head down on his shoulder and closed her eyes so that anyone watching would see her snuggling up to her lover while she danced with him.
“I’ve said it so many ways, I’ve run out of adjectives. I’ve called him stupid and sloppy, and I’ve told them the FBI’s convinced he has a very low IQ, that he’s to be pitied because he’s so dysfunctional. You name it, Nick. I’ve said it.”
“That’s my girl.”
“What about you? Have you been telling people how we met?”
“Yeah, every chance I get,” he answered. “I met Christopher,” he added. “I liked him.”
“I haven’t seen Michelle yet. Uh-oh, here comes Steve Brenner.”
“You aren’t gonna be dancing with him.”
“I don’t want to dance with him.”
The song ended. As Nick and Laurant were leaving the dance floor, they were intercepted by Brenner.
Nick sized him up with just one quick look. The man was all about control. The way he moved and the way he dressed were giveaways. The man’s appearance was extremely important to him. His Ralph Lauren shirt and pants were crisply pressed, and there wasn’t a hair out of place. The only concession he made to casual picnic attire was not to wear socks with his new Gucci loafers. As Nick shook his hand, he noticed Brenner was sporting a Rolex watch.
Brenner touched Laurant’s shoulder sympathetically. “Laurant, I want you to know how sorry I am about that article Lorna wrote. I was embarrassed when I read that nonsense about the two of us. I have no idea where she came up with that story, and I hope it didn’t cause you any distress.”
“No, it didn’t,” she said.
He smiled. “Lorna told me that you and Nick are engaged, or was that another fabrication?”
“She got that right. Nick and I are getting married.”
“Well, I’ll be damned. Congratulations to both of you. You’re getting a good woman,” he said to Nick. Looking at Laurant again, he asked, “Have you set the wedding date?”
“Second Saturday in October,” she told him.
“Where are you going to live?”
“In Holy Oaks,” she said. “And I’ll still be fighting you on the town square.”
The smile went out of his eyes. “I expect you will, but I think I’ve come up with an offer you won’t want to refuse. I’d like to drop it off tomorrow after work. Are you going to be home? We could sit down and discuss it.”
“No, I’m sorry, I won’t be home. Nick and I are going to the rehearsal at the abbey for the wedding. And then there’s dinner after,” she explained. “We won’t be getting home until after midnight.”
Brenner nodded. “Why don’t I give you a call next Monday. That should give you time to recover from Michelle’s wedding.”
“That would be fine.”
“Getting engaged and setting a wedding date . . . that happened pretty quick, didn’t it?”
Nick answered, “I’ve known Laurant a very long time, since she was a little girl.”
“And when we saw each other again in Kansas City, we just . . . knew . . . didn’t we, darling?” Laurant added.
Nick smiled. “Yes.”
“Congratulations again,” he said. “I guess I better go get a hamburger before they’re all gone.”
Nick kept his eye on Brenner as he walked away.
“What do you think of him?” she asked.
“He’s got a lot of anger pent up inside.”
“How could you tell that?”
“When he was congratulating us, his hands were fisted.”
“I’m making his life miserable right now. He was probably clenching his fists to keep from wringing my neck.”
“You’re single-handedly blocking his plans.”
“Is he a suspect?”
“Everyone is,” he replied. “Come on. Let’s go sit on the blanket and make out like teenagers.”
The suggestion made her laugh. Several men and women turned and smiled at the happy couple.
“Sounds like a plan,” she said. “But I don’t think the abbot would approve.”
“There you are. I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
Michelle came hurrying across the grass. Her fiancé, Christopher, had hold of her hand and was grinning from ear to ear.
Michelle was a beautiful woman. Petite, with delicate features, she had long golden hair that framed her heart-shaped face. She had a killer smile that demanded a response.
Laurant’s friend wore a metal brace on her right leg, and when she tried to sit down at the picnic table, she winced in pain. Christopher was telling Nick a joke he’d just heard as he swept Michelle up into his arms and then sat down with her in his lap.
“I’m still limping,” Michelle said to Laurant.
“But barely,” she insisted.
“You think so?”
“Oh, yes. I noticed the difference.”
“I shattered my knee in a car accident,” she explained to Nick. “I shouldn’t be able to walk at all, but I beat the odds.”
“Michelle knows all about percentages,” Christopher explained. “She has degrees in mathematics and accounting, and she’s going to get her CPA after we get married.”
“I’m keeping Laurant’s books for her store,” Michelle added.
The bandleader caught everyone’s attention when he thumped on his microphone and announced that the next song would be the last for the evening.
“We’ve got to dance, honey,” Christopher insisted.
“And so do we,” Nick said. As he was pulling Laurant toward the dance floor, he said, “I like your friends.”
“They like you.”
The bandleader opened the piece of paper and smiled. “Ah, now folks, this here song is a slow one, and it’s one of my favorites,” he announced. “And so is the little girl it’s dedicated to. It’s for our own sweet Laurant Madden, and it’s from Heartbreaker.”
Nick had just taken Laurant into his arms when the bandleader made the announcement. He heard her drawn-in breath and felt her stiffen. He pulled her close, an instinctive response to danger.
He saw Noah and Tommy moving toward the bandstand. Another man separated from the crowd and came forward from the opposite direction. Nick knew at once that he was an agent. Damn, none of them knew who they were looking for, and the crowd was watching them, surrounding them, smiling because the song was for Laurant.
“Son of a bitch,” he muttered.
“Nick, what do we do?” she whispered in a shaky voice.
“We dance,” he said.
Laurant felt as though the world was closing in on her. She couldn’t catch her breath, couldn’t think. She tucked her head under Nick’s chin and closed her eyes.
He wants me to know he’s here, watching me
.
Oh God, make him leave me alone
.
Please God
. . .
“Now folks, grab your partner ’cause like I said, this is our last request. The name of the song is ‘I Only Have Eyes for You.’ ”
H
e stood in the crowd and watched, the intoxication building to a feverish pitch inside him. Laurant, his sweet Laurant. She mesmerized him. So lovely, so untouchable. For now.
Soon, my love. Soon you will be mine.
Out of the corner of his eye he saw the mule walking toward her. He smiled then. He had snapped his fingers, and they had come. He was the spider now, and they were caught in his web.
He couldn’t take his eyes off the mule. He watched him cross the grass and pull Laurant into his arms. It was all a game. Oh yes, he knew what they were doing. Trying to upset him, as though he were a simpleton.
And still he couldn’t turn away. They were dancing, and he didn’t like the way the mule was holding her. It was too close . . . too intimate. Then Nick kissed her. He felt such a burst of rage explode inside him his knees buckled and he had to sit down. It was a game, a game. They were playing with him, tormenting him. Yes, he knew what they were doing . . . and yet, he was livid.
How dare they torment him!
The surprises weren’t over. He was blatantly staring at them now, studying them, and he could see the way Laurant was looking at the mule. He jerked back against the bench. She loved him. It was as plain as day to someone as clever and astute as he was. She couldn’t hide it, not from him. Green-eyed girl had fallen in love with a mule. Lordy, lordy, what was he going to do about that?
She was ruining his good time. When the last song was announced and it was for Laurant, he’d felt flushed and dizzy. The joy and the rage were almost more than he could bear. And while he stood there in plain sight and watched his prey on the dance floor, smiling and laughing and acting like they were having a mighty fine time, he knew there must be mules rushing through the crowd searching for him. Fools, all of them. They didn’t know what he looked like, or who he was, so how were they expecting to find him? Did they think he was going to pull out a gun and point it to himself? He laughed just thinking about it. Priceless, he thought. Their stupidity was truly priceless.
Then he spotted good old Father Tom, running toward his sister with another priest by his side. There was a beautiful look of terror in Tom’s eyes. He savored it and sighed with pleasure. Now what in tarnation did those silly priests think they were going to do? Pray him into giving himself up?
Vengeance is mine sayeth the Lord. Was Father Tom thinking about vengeance now? The possibility amused him. Perhaps the next time he went to confession he would ask him. A priest should understand. That was his job, wasn’t it? To understand and forgive? Maybe understanding would come with death. He mulled over that philosophical possibility and then shrugged. What did he care if Tommy understood or not?
My, oh my, he hadn’t had this much fun in a long, long time. And it was only going to get better, as long as he kept the anger reined in, controlled it, soothed the beast with promises of the havoc to come. How dare they think they could outwit him? Ignorant mules, all of them.
Still, caution was called for now. Bide his time, that was the ticket. He certainly wasn’t afraid or even worried about the mules. He had invited the FBI boys to Holy Oaks, now hadn’t he? But he so wanted to be a gracious host, a regular Martha Stewart, if you will, and so he needed to know the exact number he would be entertaining. There had to be enough refreshments to go around. Did he bring enough C-4 with him? He thought about it for a minute and then smiled. Why, yes, as a matter of fact, he did.
Heartbreaker was always prepared.
His goal was to eliminate as many of the mules as he could, as long as it didn’t interfere with his primary objective. The target. Get the target and have a little old-fashioned fun at the same time, while he proved to the world that he was The Superior Being. None of the FBI boys were a match for him. And soon now, very soon, when it was too late and they couldn’t run and hide, they would realize it.
He would take care of his unfinished business and at the same time let the world mock them all on national television. Prime time. KABOOM. Film at eleven. Yes, sirree.