The Psalmist Read Online Free PDF Page B

have said you may know something about it.”
    â€œNo, ma’am.”
    â€œYou spoke with the sheriff about it, though, didn’t you?”
    He looked down, rubbing his hands more earnestly in the rag.
    â€œI’m the lead investigator in the case, sir,” she said. “I have no reason to think you were involved. I’d just like to eliminate you as a suspect. Which we can do very quickly.”
    â€œUh-­huh,” he said. “Any questions, you’d need to talk to my attorney.”
    â€œYes, you mentioned that.”
    Hunter took a breath and looked down the highway at an uprooted stretch of forest and the sign: FUTURE HOME OF WAL -­MART.
    â€œOkay. And who is your attorney?”
    â€œMr. Louis Gunther.”
    â€œOkay.” Gunther was a Tidewater native who represented mostly DWI and “personal injury” cases. He was well-­known locally for his fifteen-­second summertime TV commercials. “If you should change your mind, please give me a call,” she said.
    Hunter took a business card from a pocket of her army jacket and held it out, but Robby Fallow made no motion to take it.
    â€œThank you, ma’am,” he said.
    He turned and walked back toward the Oldsmobile.
    Hunter put the card away and returned to her car. She knew that she was being played, but not by Robby Fallow. She wondered what the sheriff might’ve said to Fallow that would have spooked him this way.

 
    Chapter 4
    A LL MORNING THE dream that had awakened Luke overnight kept replaying in his head, its details so vivid that he seemed to be remembering an actual event.
    He enters the church sanctuary through the choir door, exactly as he had done on Tuesday morning. He watches the play of stained-­glass light across the pews and eventually notices a woman, seated in the next-­to-­last row, just as on Tuesday. As he approaches, she lifts her head and seems to recognize him. Her expression changes several times before he reaches her—­surprise, pleasure, sadness, and finally several degrees of pain.
    The woman tries to stand but can’t, her eyes indicating that her legs are broken. Luke nods, but urges her to try again anyway. On her second attempt she manages to hoist herself up unsteadily and begins to walk toward him, her legs jerking and buckling. For just a moment she stops and her eyes seem very happy; her arms begin to flap and Luke wonders if she’s trying to dance. Then she loses her balance and he rushes forward to steady her. They hold each other, her face braced in his hands. Her skin is damp, as if she’s just come in from a drizzle. When he pulls his hands away, he sees that pieces of her are sticking to him.
    That was when he woke and saw Charlotte sleeping beside him. He looked past her at the clock on the bed-­stand: 3:17. He closed his eyes and listened for a while to the deep breathing of Charlotte and Sneakers, in alternating rhythms, as if they were nocturnal jazz musicians riffing off of one another other as they slept.
    S OME RUMORS TAKE their time; in Tidewater most travel quickly, especially during the off-­season. Only the sparest details about the “church killing”—­as ­people were calling it—­made the Tidewater Times or the local TV news. But several versions of what had happened were circulating through the gathering spots on Main Street. As ­people came and went, they exchanged the currencies of what they had “heard”: that the victim, an Asian woman, was most likely a high-­priced escort, possibly from Baltimore, who’d advertised her ser­vices on Craigslist; that the sheriff and homicide detectives had “been out to talk with Robby” two or three times already; and that the pastor “knows something.” This last rumor, based on nothing, had caused ­people to look at Luke a little funny ever since Tuesday morning.
    Tidewater County was a sprawling,