Their chances were about nil for getting a warrant and the good reverend knew it.

For just an instant, Katie was reminded of Carlo Silvestri, her ex-husband, standing there all arrogant and righteous, just like Reverend McCamy, looking at her like she wasn’t worthy to polish his shoes.

“You mean,” Katie said, rising as well, “that Benson Carlysle won’t grant a warrant. His brother’s a member of your church, isn’t he?”

“Yes. He’s a good man, a fair man. He and his wife are devout members. His brother won’t allow you to harass my wife and me just because someone thought he saw her brother near here.”

Elsbeth said, every muscle tensed, desperate to convince them, “Even if Clancy was here, hiding, naturally, he’s certainly not here now, and we knew nothing about it in any case. He’s got to know that I can’t have anything to do with him.”

“I see,” Sherlock said, and rose to stand beside Katie.

Reverend McCamy said, “Good day, Agent Sherlock, Sheriff Benedict. You do not believe what I believe. You do not behave as women should behave. I would like you to leave. I don’t want my wife tainted with your presence, your suspicions, your lack of grace. However, if Clancy does contact Elsbeth, rest assured that I will call you.”

Katie dug a card out of her shirt pocket and gave it to Elsbeth. “Good. Understand, Elsbeth, if Clancy does call you, you might be able to save his life. If he doesn’t turn himself in he probably won’t survive. You don’t want him dead.”

Elsbeth’s eyes filled with tears, beautiful sparkling tears. She began to moan and rock back and forth on her chair. “Of course I don’t want him dead. It’s a sin to want somebody dead. And he’s my brother.”

Katie fanned her hands in front of her, so impatient she snapped out, “Elsbeth, I’m not planning on gunning for Clancy at high noon, but I’ll do what I have to do to bring him in. Now, thank you for the coffee. Remember, the chances of Clancy living through this decrease by the minute.”

Sherlock and Katie walked themselves to the door, Elsbeth’s sobs echoing behind them. Sherlock couldn’t help herself. She turned a moment to see Reverend Sooner McCamy standing in the middle of the light-filled living room, a portrait in black and white, his face impassive, his dark eyes burning.

Sherlock said to Katie as she started up her truck, “He never asked who it was claiming to see Clancy near his house.”

“No, he didn’t, did he?”

17

He’s Rasputin.”

Savich had popped a pain pill ten minutes before so he was easily able to smile at his wife.

“Yes, but what did you really think?”

“He’s scary.”

“In what way?”

“He’s not quite here. It’s like he’s into an inner self where there’s only his God and what he owes his God and what he can do to get other people to worship his God. The thing is, I’m not sure he includes women or if it’s just men’s souls that interest him.”

Savich said, “An otherworldly sexist. He sounds too preoccupied with himself to be a kidnapper.”

“Yeah, you’re right, he does. But I haven’t heard much condemnation about his ideas out of you yet.”

“Hmm.”

“Why don’t you yell and holler that it isn’t fair, that you denounce it, that you spit upon such notions?”

“It’s not fair,” Savich said. “I can’t spit because it would hurt my back. This guy sounds very strange, sweetheart.”

“Yes, he is. He’s very intense, as I said, like Rasputin or, more to the point, some descendant of Rasputin. Now, since Katie and I didn’t have a warrant, we just sort of wandered around outside their big Victorian house, which is really quite beautiful, and would you just look at what fell out of a window.”

“Fell out of a window? Yes, if I close my eyes I can see it falling right at your feet. Come on, what have you got?”

Sherlock tossed him a vial and told him about the hidden room off the small bedroom closet.

He read the label. Salvation. He blinked, unscrewed the top and sniffed the liquid, which had a faint almond scent. “Sex with a religious theme? Are you planning on drinking this, Sherlock? Have things gotten this bad?”

She laughed, hugged him very carefully, kissed his mouth. He fastened the cap back on the vial and handed it back to her. “When all this dies down, let’s send it to the lab and see what’s in this salvation stuff.”

“Maybe we can find out if it’s manufactured or if the reverend makes it himself. There were about a dozen other vials, all with charming names like this one. I know I shouldn’t have taken it but I just couldn’t resist.” When she finished telling him about the whips and the green marble altar and the wooden block, he said as he looked down at his fingernails, “You wonder what that wooden block with the fur on top is for?”