A Game of Murder (17 page)

Faith blushed. She’d put on the same dress pants and blouse she’d worn to Arizona Cycling yesterday, added lipstick and a touch of blush. She supposed there wasn’t much chance of her and John keeping their relationship a secret any more. “Just fine. I hope you’ll excuse me, but I want to talk to Hope.”

She scurried away before anyone else could ask embarrassing questions she’d have to answer.

“Hey, girlfriend,” Hope said as Faith joined her friends. “Glad you made it.”

“I
am
trying to be an active church member,” Faith said. “Sometimes I get so involved in my work, I forget about the Wednesday night suppers, but I set an alarm on my computer today so I wouldn’t miss another one.”

“I’m sure Pastor John will be glad to see you, too.”

Why was everyone so preoccupied with her relationship with John? Although, one of the reasons she’d made such an effort to be here was because she missed him. Both of them had been occupied with other things since church on Sunday.

“Is the Prickly Pear open yet?” Faith asked, changing the subject.

“I’m hoping to get the results from the Health Department tomorrow. They finished their inspection today. As far as I know, they didn’t find anything to cite me on.”

“I wouldn’t expect them to,” Faith said. “So you should be open by the weekend.”

“I’m praying it will be before then. I make most of my money weekday mornings from commuters,” Hope said. “This is going to be a tough month if I can’t recoup the income I lost this week.”

“I’m sure God will provide.” Walt squeezed his wife’s hand reassuringly. Hope smiled weakly back at him.

“Shouldn’t you be at the ranch?” Faith asked. Walt usually spent weekdays at the Crazy Creek Ranch rather than coming home every night. With the long hours he put in and the distance the ranch was from Tucson, commuting on a daily basis didn’t make sense.

“Had a couple of vacation days owed me. Decided to take them so I could be around in case of any more trouble.” Walt, generally taciturn, must have used up his evening’s allotment of conversation by saying so much.

Hope gave her husband a warm look.

“Is there a concert this weekend?” Faith didn’t remember the schedule.

Hope shook her head.

“Do you think you could put one together? To bring in customers, I mean.” Faith didn’t know of another way to make up some of the income lost over the past week.

“Too short notice,” Hope said. “I doubt any of the musicians I know would be available.”

“It wouldn’t hurt to try.”

“I’ve got more on my mind than money,” Hope said. She nibbled at her lower lip, a sure sign she was worried about something.

Before Faith could ask what that was, John’s voice boomed from the front of the room. She hadn’t noticed him come in, and felt disappointed he hadn’t come over to her when he arrived.

“If you’ll all gather in a circle, we can get started.”

Chairs scraped across the floor as the church members rose to their feet and hurried toward the minister. Hope nudged Faith toward John. When he smiled as he took her hand, the weight of disappointment lifted.

Once everyone was gathered in the circle, he started to speak. There were a number of announcements about members who had either entered or exited the hospital, updates on various church activities, and a reminder that the ministry team meetings would be held next Monday night. When he was finished, he started singing the grace hymn. The voices of the members blended as they joined in lifting their thanks to God.

As soon as grace ended, people hurried to get in line at the buffet. They didn’t exactly push and shove—this was a church group, after all—but they did jockey for a position closest to the front of the line. Lois and crew led the way, and almost everyone deferred to them.

“I’ll join you in a few minutes,” John said. He went to stand near the front of the line as greeter and overseer, making sure things went smoothly.

Walt headed for George McCollum, started a conversation. Perhaps he hadn’t used up his word quota after all. Faith and Hope hung back. They could wait for food. Besides, John always served himself last. There was no point in rushing.

While they waited, Faith decided to find out what was bothering Hope. “What did you mean about having something to worry about other than money?”

Hope glanced at Walt, then lowered her voice. “The adoption.”

“What’s going on?” Hope had waited so long, worked so hard to convince Walt to adopt, now Faith was worried, too. Had Walt changed his mind?

“The agency heard about the murders and the poisoning at the Prickly Pear. They’ve decided to put a hold on the adoption until the situation is resolved.” Hope’s eyes filled with tears.

“They can’t think you had anything to do with that?” Even as the words came out of Faith’s mouth, she knew they were false. Of course Hope would be under suspicion in the adoption agency’s eyes, even if the police thought Lorna a more likely suspect. In an abundance of caution, they’d be required to delay the adoption until they were certain a child would be safe with her.

“It doesn’t matter what anyone thinks,” Hope said. “Until the murderer is caught, the adoption is in bureaucratic limbo.”

Faith’s heart ached for her friend. She couldn’t stand by and watch Hope’s dream be shattered. She had to do something to help.

But what about her promise to John? Surely he would understand if she explained the situation to him properly. Or would he? He was so insistent about her not getting involved in another murder investigation. She blew air through tight lips.

Hope needed her to solve the murder. John needed her to keep her word. Why did the needs of the two people she loved most in this world have to pull her heart in opposite directions?

* * *

John sighed as he put down his fork, stomach full, relaxed and content after the meal and fellowship. Most of the membership had gone off to a Bible study class led by Linda McCollum. The cook team was washing up the serving pieces in the kitchen. Hope and Walt had gone home, making excuses. He wondered if there was something wrong. They hadn’t said much at dinner. Maybe he should give Hope a call in the morning. Meanwhile, Faith was here now, and he intended to make the most of the evening.

He gazed at her with a smile that overflowed his lips and filled up his eyes. “Alone at last,” he quoted in a parody of some old movie line.

Faith smiled. “Well, sort of.”

John knew what she meant. As long as they were in the building, there was always a chance of someone interrupting them. “Would you like to take a walk down to the park on the corner?”

When she nodded her assent, they both rose from the table. He took her hand and headed outside. The chill of the October air provided a contrast to the warmth of their hands. A current flowed between them, something vibrant and alive, thrumming with emotion.

Bright stars shone in the dark skies, the glory of God’s handiwork on full display. A shooting star flamed overhead. “Look!” He pointed with his free hand, and Faith raised her head.

“Oh! I almost missed it,” Faith said.

“Maybe there will be another one.”

“Probably. The Orionids should be peaking about now.”

John shook his head. “How do you know that stuff?”

A wistful look came over Faith’s face. “My father taught me. We used to spend evenings stargazing as long as the weather was nice.” Her voice caught as she added, “And he wasn’t drunk.”

John eased his hand out of hers and slid his arm around her. “But you have those good memories.”

She looked at him with eyes shiny with unshed tears. “Yes, but I still miss him.”

They reached the small park not too far from the church. A dirt path led to a small bench overlooking a patch of grass, a novelty in Tucson. “Shall we sit and watch for more?” John asked.

Faith nodded. She snuggled into his body, one fluid motion with sitting on the bench, and stared up into the night sky. John followed her gaze.

“Another one!” Faith said as a streak of light crossed their field of view. “We must be near the peak. It’s early in the evening to see so many.”

“Early?” John asked. “The sky is totally dark.”

“You see the most meteors after midnight,” Faith said matter-of-factly.

“Then God is smiling on us by letting us experience two in such a short time,” John said.

“You always think about God’s hand in everything, don’t you?” Faith asked.

Surprised, John said, “God’s hand
is
in everything.” At least, it was for him.

Faith sighed. “I’ll keep trying to remember that.”

“And I’ll keep trying to remind you.” He nuzzled his face in her hair, smelled the fresh scent of her shampoo.

She tilted her head back until his eyes were gazing into hers. It was too dark to see their color, but he knew what it was, and his brain filled in the emerald-green pupils that sparkled like fairy gems, entrancing him. He leaned over and kissed her forehead, then the tip of her nose, swung her around and held her in his arms while he kissed her lips. She kissed him back thoroughly, drawing him down into her until they felt like one person. She opened her mouth and he responded, his heart beating faster, his breath coming quickly. He held her closer, felt her heart beat in time with his. His head was spinning. He couldn’t think. He didn’t need to think as passion took control of his body.

A loud whoosh interrupted their love-making, and they jerked away from one another. Faith brushed back her hair and stared up into the sky at a fading trail of glitter.

“What was that?” John asked breathily, fearful the sound had been car tires on pavement, and someone might have seen the two of them in their embrace.

“Fireball.” Her voice was as breathless as his. She smoothed her blouse down, modestly covering the bit of her stomach that showed where her blouse had pulled out of her waistband.

He crossed his legs, folded his hands in his lap. “Oh,” he said as if he understood, not understanding at all.

Faith laughed. “A fireball is a larger meteor that holds together longer than most while it burns up in the atmosphere. What we heard was the sound of its passing.”

John’s breathing was almost back to normal. He thought he might dare try to walk. “We should be getting back.” He started to rise, but she put a hand on his leg, light as an angel’s touch, but unyielding as iron. He sat down again.

“Not yet. I need to talk to you about something.”

This must be serious. He thought back to her devastating revelations of the summer and hoped there weren’t more of those to tell.
How much could one woman suffer?
“Okay.” He drew the word out, not sure he wanted to spoil the night’s romance.

Faith withdrew her hand from his knee and sat up straighter. “I told you about Ashley, and how the detective seems to be focusing on Lorna as his primary suspect.”

John nodded. He already didn’t like where this was going.

“The situation has gotten more complicated,” Faith said. “I was talking to Hope tonight…”

She paused and looked into his eyes, giving him a chance to nod again. He could feel his gut tying itself into a knot.

“These murders connected to the Prickly Pear are endangering her adoption. The agency put the whole process on hold.”

“But we know both Hope and Lorna are innocent. The detective is sure to figure that out.”

“Is he? Even if he does, how long will it take him? Hope has waited so long, gone through so much heartache, I don’t want her to suffer any longer than she has to.”

“Faith…” The word came out with an overlay of warning. Why did she have this obsession with proving everyone’s innocence, even if it meant putting herself—and others—in jeopardy?

“Listen, John. I know how these people think. They’re even starting to trust me. A little.” He heard the doubt in how she said the last word. She glanced down at the path that ran beside the bench.

John wondered how much they really trusted Faith, a newcomer and another woman.

“Anyway, I was thinking I could ask a few questions, maybe hang out on those boards where they post, get one of them to give me a hint who killed Mira and Ashley.” She pursed her lips together and looked up at him from under partially closed eyelids.

John shook his head. “I thought we settled this, Faith. I thought we agreed you wouldn’t play detective again. I thought you understood I can’t put Luke in danger.” A fist squeezed his heart at the mention of his son’s name.

Her face got stubborn, all the softness of a few moments ago turned into hard lines of determination. “What if the murderer kills someone else? What if it’s Lorna? What if it’s Hope?”

“What if it’s you?” John cried in anguish.

Faith softened for a second, then reclaimed her resolve. “I can’t let this go. Your calling may be to the ministry. Mine is to help people prove their innocence and bring the real killers to justice. I understand about Luke”—she licked her lips—“but surely they wouldn’t hurt a little boy? I’ll just not babysit for him any more until this is over.”

John’s heart was in chaos. He loved Faith. He also loved Luke. And he had a responsibility to Luke, a responsibility stronger than to an adult who could make decisions for herself. The movie of the three of them together as a family that had been playing in his head for the past few weeks stuttered, the frames jerking along until they stopped altogether and faded to black.

“Faith, I can’t take that chance. Luke has had a rough enough time of it in his young life.” He thought about his decision to talk to a lawyer. A custody battle which would make things rougher on Luke, at least for a time. “It’s my job to protect him.”

And you
, he wanted to say, but he couldn’t get the words out.

Faith sat very still, her eyelashes glittering with unshed tears. “So you’re saying I have to make a choice between you and my friends.”

“It doesn’t have to be all black and white,” John said, trying to salvage the situation. “You don’t have to give up your friends. I’d never ask you to do that. But playing amateur detective? Yes. Luke is my first responsibility. If you can’t see that”—he swallowed past the lump in his throat—“I can’t continue to be involved with you.”