The Killer You Know. Kimberly Van Meter

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      A brief smile lit up his mouth before he answered. “Special Agent Silas Kelly, FBI.”

      Triumph at being right sang in her voice. “See? I knew it. Now my next question...what the hell are you doing here?”

      “I used to live here.”

      “Yeah? When?”

      “My entire family was born here.”

      “Hmmm, I’ll have to verify that statement from different sources. Back to my original question...what are you doing here? It has something to do with Rhia’s death, doesn’t it?”

      “Perhaps.”

      “Cryptic,” Quinn stated with a frown. “Okay, I’m going to assume that you’re here because of Rhia’s murder. So what’s so special that the FBI is getting involved? Government conspiracy? Not likely. Aliens? Probably not. Some connection to a different case? I can’t imagine. So you’ve got me stumped. Help a girl out and give me a hint.”

      “I’m not here to give interviews, Miss Jackson.”

      “What are you here for?”

      “That would be my business.”

      “So this is a personal trip, not official?”

      He hesitated and she capitalized on his minute pause. “Aha! Let me guess...you are here on semi-official business but you’re not taking over the investigation, which means you’re here on a fact-finding mission,” she finished, pleased with herself. “Tell me I’m not wrong.”

      But he couldn’t. All he would say was, “You can believe what you wish.”

      Well, this was going nowhere.

      “Let me tell you what I think... I think—” she began, fishing a little “—that Rhia Daniels was killed by someone that the FBI is interested in.”

      “Everyone is entitled to their opinion...or speculation.”

      “So you’re really not going to tell me anything, are you?” When he graced her with a sardonic expression, she said, “All right. Fine. Play it your way. I mean, we could work together and help each other out, but if you’d like to go it alone in a small town where the locals are wary of strangers...then I guess that’s your choice. But don’t come crawling to me when you get stonewalled at every turn.”

      “I’m not a stranger.”

      “Yeah, but how long has it been since you’ve been gone?”

      “Fifteen years.”

      “A lot can change in fifteen years.”

      She left him with that thought.

      And a smile.

      With any luck, that seed she’d just planted would sprout and grow wild.

Chapter 3

      Pastor Forrest Simms was in his office when two members of his flock came in, eyes and noses red from uncontrollable weeping.

      Violet and Oliver Daniels, Rhia’s parents.

      “Pastor,” Violet started, turning to her husband and clutching at his jacket. “I can’t tell him. You do it.”

      Oliver nodded gravely and swallowed before saying, “We wanted to tell you before you heard through the grapevine... Rhia is dead.”

      Forrest felt the blood drain from his cheeks. “How?”

      “She was murdered. Someone took our Rhia away. Who could do such a thing?” Violet was seeking answers that Forrest couldn’t give her.

      His gut churned as he searched for something to ease their heartache but his thoughts were crashing into each other. He leaned on platitudes to get him through. “She’s in a better place. She’s with Our Father. Take comfort in that where Rhia is, she is loved by the Almighty and knows only peace.”

      “I want her back,” Violet wailed, sobbing against her husband’s chest. “She was my baby. My miracle baby. And now she’s gone. Who would do such a terrible thing to such a sweet girl?”

      Oliver tried to hush his wife but he was barely hanging on himself. He looked to Forrest with an apology. “We’re sorry for interrupting your private time, Pastor. We just wanted to share the news personally, on account of how close you and Rhia were. She really looked to you for spiritual guidance and we will always keep you in our hearts for that.”

      Forrest nodded, his discomfort making his skin itch as if a thousand fire ants were biting him. “She was a lovely girl.”

      Violet nodded and Oliver walked with his bereft wife out of the office, leaving Forrest alone for a brief moment before Gladys, his secretary came in, her expression one of shock.

      “Rhia Daniels? Did I hear that correctly?”

      “Yes.”

      Gladys fluttered her hands like a bird trying to take flight and then pressed her hands to her chest as if she was going to faint. “What is this town coming to? The wickedness is overwhelming. I mean, just the other day I was at the grocery store and someone stole cash right out of my purse when I had my back turned. The nerve! And now a murder?” She shuddered, adding, “This brings up so many bad memories. Hasn’t this town suffered enough?”

      Forrest nodded, knowing that Gladys was referencing the death of Spencer Kelly almost twenty years ago. He and Spencer had been in the same grade. His death had been a major blow to the community.

      Then Gladys thought of something. “Oh goodness, that must be why I saw all those news vans milling around downtown. That means the restaurants are going to be full. Darn if I’m going to get a table tonight now.”

      “Gladys,” he admonished and she was immediately contrite.

      “Excuse me, Pastor. Where is my head? I don’t know what’s wrong with me. We should host a gathering so people can come and grieve for poor Rhia.”

      Forrest knew that was the right thing to do. But he struggled to say the words. Rhia was, indeed, a special girl. He didn’t know if he was ready to face all the grieving friends and family.

      But he also knew with everyone in a lather about a potential murderer in their midst, he had to tread cautiously.

      “That’s a beautiful idea, Gladys,” he finally murmured with a faint smile. “Please make the necessary arrangements. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I feel the need to pray. My heart is heavy.”

      “Yes, of course.” Gladys quickly left the room and Forrest exhaled a shaky breath.

      Rhia.

      No more flirty smiles from across the pew.

      No more struggling with his guilt.

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