Suddenly, Elsbeth stiffened and jerked free of Katie. She ran right at Miles, her fists swinging, screaming, “Leave him alone! Reverend McCamy, they don’t understand. They never will. Say no more. Make them leave. They don’t belong here. Make them leave!”
“She’s right, you’ll never understand,” Reverend McCamy said, coming around the desk to his wife, reaching out his hands, for what reason, neither Miles nor Katie knew. Then he slammed both fists onto the desktop. “Sam—it is not his name! His name is Samuel, his biblical name. He can’t die! Save the boy, oh Lord, he is part of You, he is Your beloved victim. You must save him!”
Reverend McCamy was shaking so hard that he appeared to be having a seizure. Tears streamed down his face. “Elsbeth is right. Get out, both of you!”
A man’s voice came from the doorway. “I can’t let you do this to him, Sheriff, I just can’t. Back away from Reverend McCamy.”
Reverend McCamy screamed, “Are you crazy? What are you doing here, Thomas? Get out!”
Katie turned slowly around to see Tom Boone, a local postman for twenty years, standing just inside the library door holding a rifle on her. She smiled. “Well, I think there walks my proof on the hoof. Is there anyone else getting ready to come through that door? Or was it just you, Mr. Boone?”
“It was just me, Sheriff, and I’m enough to deal with you. I’m sorry, Reverend McCamy, but she’s got a gun, you know. It’s right there in her belt holster. I didn’t want her to hurt you. You, Mr. Kettering, you get away from Reverend McCamy!”
Miles stepped away.
Katie remembered seeing Mr. Boone on Sunday, at the Sinful Children of God. She said, “Do you believe in this madman enough to try to kill me and Keely and Mr. Kettering to get to Sam?”
“I didn’t try to kill nobody.”
“Just be quiet, Thomas. Go away from here.”
“No, Reverend, not just yet. I’ve got to tell her how it really was, that I wasn’t there to hurt anyone, then she’ll leave you alone. I did what I had to do, Sheriff, what the Reverend and God commanded me to do.”
“What are you talking about, Mr. Boone? God doesn’t have anything to do with this. It was this madman who gave you your marching orders. It was this madman who ordered you to take Sam. Didn’t you hear what happened to the other two men he sent to get Sam?”
“I heard, Sheriff. You killed both of them. You, a woman, killed two men. You’re an abomination.”
Katie could only stare at him and shake her head. “And just look at what you did. You threw gas bombs into my kitchen and fired at me in my truck. Then you stayed around and tried to kill me again. What were you thinking?”
Mr. Boone, asthmatic all his life, panted hard now because he was scared. The drizzling rain and cold air had gone into his chest, he could feel it, choking off his air. He looked at the man who had helped him before, the saintly man who’d laid his hands on his chest and prayed and had eased his breathing. Thomas had known it was a miracle. He looked over at Reverend McCamy.
“It was God’s orders as well,” Reverend McCamy shouted. “I promised that you would be rewarded, Thomas. I promised that I would heal your asthma forever, but only if you finished what you started.”
Katie asked, “What else did the Reverend here offer you as a reward, Mr. Boone?”
“He promised me that I would be his deacon. I’ve always wanted that and now I’ll have it, and I’ll be able to breathe free and easy for the rest of my life.”
Katie had dealt with teenage gang members, drug dealers, homicides, and rapes in Knoxville, but never had she heard thinking as bizarre as this.
She drew in a deep breath, and held out her hand to Mr. Boone. “Did you think even once about your mother and your grandmother, what this would do to them? Listen to me. This man isn’t holy, he’s insane. Do you have any idea what deep trouble you’re in? Now, put down that damned rifle.”
But Mr. Boone held on to the rifle like it was his lifeline, and perhaps, in his mind, it was. He kept it steady on her chest.
Katie said to Reverend McCamy, “I believe that in Hollywood they would say the jig’s up, sir. Is there anything else you’d like to tell me before I take you to my cozy jail?”
“Damn you, Sheriff, why don’t you believe me?”
“Of course I don’t believe you,” she said, warning signs going off in her head because he was losing it fast. “I’m not mad.”
“You stupid woman!” He lurched away and ran to the bookshelf behind his desk. He jerked books off the shelf, hurling them to the floor, reached in and pulled out what appeared to be a videotape.