There weren’t a lot of arrangements to make. Mrs. Collier had laid out her desires, and even paid for her casket, a simple pine one. She was to be buried in a local Baptist church cemetery, next to her late husband. Her insurance would cover the costs of the service, so that Grace had nothing to worry about.
The next stop was Blake Kemp’s office, where Grace learned that she’d been left the house and land. It was a little surprising, because she’d expected her grandmother wouldn’t leave her anything at all.
Garon was sitting in the waiting room while Grace spoke to her grandmother’s attorney.
“I didn’t think she’d leave me anything,” she began.
Blake leaned forward. “She had a guilty conscience, Grace,” he said gently. “She failed you the one time she shouldn’t have. I know she wasn’t kind to you. Maybe that was just an involuntary response to her own behavior.”
“She blamed me for Mama,” she replied.
“She shouldn’t have,” he said with the ease of someone who’d known the family for many years. “Nothing that happened was your fault.”
“That’s what Dr. Coltrain said.”
“And he’s right. We’ll go ahead and file the papers, making you executrix of her estate.” He held up a big hand when she started to speak. “You don’t have to do a thing. I’ll handle it. Now, about the funeral,” he began.
“Mr. Grier is helping with that,” she said.
“Cash?” he exclaimed.
“No, his brother Garon. He lives next door to our place,” she said.
His eyebrows arched. He wasn’t expecting that. From what he’d heard of Cash’s brother, he didn’t go out of his way to help people.
“He’s very nice,” she continued. “He had his men fix my car. And I baked him an apple cake.”
He smiled gently. “It’s about time you started noticing bachelors, Grace.”
She closed up at once. “It’s not like that,” she assured him. “He’s only being kind. Miss Turner probably had something to do with it.”
“She might have,” he conceded. “Well, if you need anything, you know where I am.”
“Yes. Thank you.”
He smiled. “It’s no trouble. When we get the papers drawn up, you can swing by and sign them. I’ll do the rest.”
She started back out of the office, smiling at the receptionist, a new girl who’d replaced Violet Hardy, who was now Kemp’s wife. Garon got up from the comfortable sofa and went with her. The receptionist’s eyebrows arched and she grinned at Garon. He scowled.
“It’s the thing about small towns,” Grace said uneasily when they were out on the sidewalk. “If you’re seen with anybody, people gossip. It’s not malicious.”
He didn’t reply, but he didn’t like it, and made it obvious.
“Thank you for taking time off to help me do these things,” she said when they were on the way back to her house. “I really appreciate it.”
“I didn’t mind.” He checked his watch. “But I have to go back to my office. We’re working on a murder. A child. I have some more calls to make.”
She stiffened. “Do you have any leads?”
He shook his head. “It’s early times. She was apparently taken right out of her bedroom, with her parents asleep next door and kept for several days. A hiker tripped over her body behind a church.” His face hardened. “She was ten years old, and all her immediate family members have alibis. She was assaulted. What the hell kind of human being feels attracted to little girls?”
She was breathing uneasily, her arms folded tight over her chest. “Inadequate men,” she bit off, “who want control.”
Her reply surprised him. He glanced at her. “Excuse me?”
“Men who can’t make it with grown-up women,” she said tautly. “And they hate women because of it. So they victimize the most helpless sort of females.”
“You’re good,” he murmured with a faint smile.
“Yes, that’s my take on the case, too.” His eyes were still on the road. “You’ve got potential. Ever think of law enforcement for a career?”
“I hate guns.”
He laughed. “You don’t have to have a gun. We employ civilians at the Bureau,” he added. “Information specialists, engineers, linguists…”
“Linguists?”
He nodded. “In the old days, you had to be an agent to work for the Bureau. But now we’re more laidback.”
She smiled in spite of herself. “You’re not laidback, Mr. Grier,” she returned.
He glanced at her curiously. “How old are you?”
Her eyebrows lifted.
“Tell me,” he persisted.
“Twenty-four.”
He smiled. “I’m thirty-six. That doesn’t qualify me for a rocking chair. You can call me Garon.”
She gave him a long look. “That’s a name I’ve never heard before.”
“My mother had four children, all boys. My father says she used to sit on the porch and go through baby name books for hours. At that, my name isn’t quite as bad as Cash’s.”
“Cash isn’t all that unusual,” she pointed out.
“His real name is Cassius,” he replied with a smile.
“My gosh!”
“That’s why he uses ‘Cash,’” he chuckled.
“Are the two of you close?”
He shook his head. “We’ve had some family problems since my mother’s death. We’re in the process of getting to know each other. Cash went off to military school when he was about eight or nine years old. Until this past year, we didn’t really speak.”
“That’s sad, to have a family and not speak.”
He wondered about her parents, but it was too soon to start asking personal questions. He didn’t want any more contact with her than necessary. He was married to his job. On the other hand, he’d just talked to her about his work, and that was something he’d never done before. She had an empathy about her that was hard to resist. He felt at home with her. That was dangerous, and he wasn’t going to let anything develop between them.
GARON DROPPED GRACE OFF and went back to work. Marquez’s captain had called and the senior ASAC called Garon into his office and authorized the Bureau’s assistance. Garon would head up the task force as they searched for a murderer who killed little girls. Nobody was saying it out loud, but it was very possible that they had a serial killer on their hands. At least four cases shared the same basic pattern of death.
“I’ll get started, then,” Garon told him.
“Marquez’s captain said the case needs to be solved as soon as possible,” ASAC Bentley remarked. He was older than Grier, near retirement and had asked for assignment to San Antonio, where he had relatives. He was a kindly man, with a good heart, and he was a superior agent. Garon respected him. “The captain has an open mind, but Marquez’s lieutenant doesn’t. He thinks it’s all coincidence.”
“I don’t. The cases are too similar,” Garon said doggedly.
The ASAC smiled. He’d known Garon a long time. He