Читать книгу Confessing to the Cowboy - Carla Cassidy - Страница 12

Chapter 4

Dorothy Blake’s funeral took place on Friday morning at eleven o’clock. The weather provided an appropriate setting for the somber affair with gray low-hanging clouds, blustery wind and frigid temperatures. It was as if nature wasn’t any happier about the event than the people attending.

Cameron tugged his jacket collar up closer against his neck as he perused the crowd...and it was a big one. It appeared as if nearly everyone in the small town had turned out despite the nasty, wintry day. It didn’t help that the Grady Gulch cemetery was on a rise, with few trees to break the wind gusts.

His men were all stationed around the area, also keeping an eye on the people attending. They were looking for somebody who shouldn’t be here, somebody expressing inappropriate actions or emotions, anything suspicious that might make them take a second look.

Serial killers often attended the funerals of their victims or returned to the cemetery alone afterward to relive the kill in his mind. They also sometimes worked their way into the center of the investigation, secretly enjoying their role as volunteer avenger in a death they’d committed.

Cameron had already assigned Deputy Brooks to do surveillance on the three grave sites of the victims during the night and Deputy John Mills would take the daytime hours.

He saw Mary standing next to Lynette Shivers in the middle of the crowd. She always closed down the café during funerals and then reopened for anyone who might need food and the comfort of friends afterward.

Mary was dressed in a pair of black dress slacks and a black winter coat. Although her features were stoic, she had an arm around Lynette, who was openly weeping.

He directed his gaze to Sarah Blake, Dorothy’s younger sister. She stood with her back stiff, her eyes dry as the minister began the service. Cameron had found her to be a sour woman who’d had little nice to say about her older sister. All Sarah had wanted was to get the funeral over with as quickly as possible so she could get back to her own life.

She was leaving town the minute the service was over. Good riddance, Cameron thought wryly. She’d had nothing to offer to help in any way, had confessed that the two sisters had fallen out years ago and had maintained only phone contact once a year at Christmastime since the falling-out.

Cameron couldn’t help but think of his brother, Bobby, and his heart ached with loss. Bobby had been two years younger than Cameron and the brothers had been close. Bobby was one of those people who could light up a room, who, no matter what your mood, could make you laugh.

Bobby had loved the ranch work but had understood that the ranch wasn’t Cameron’s calling. Ten years ago when Cameron had decided to run for sheriff, Bobby had been his biggest supporter. Cameron couldn’t imagine anything driving a wedge between him and his brother. Only death had been a powerful enough force to rob Cameron of that precious relationship.

He forced his concentration back to the crowd, this time trying to discern who wasn’t in attendance. Who wasn’t here was just as important as who was as far as he was concerned.

One person notably missing from the crowd was Thomas Manning, the loner who had moved to town months ago. Cameron frowned trying to remember if the man had attended any of the funerals of the victims. He didn’t think so. It might mean something, it might mean nothing.

A sigh of frustration escaped Cameron’s lips. A break, they just needed some kind of a damned break. They’d spent the past two days chasing down all the businesses that helped keep the café running smoothly. Nothing had come from any of those interviews.

As Ben Temple sidled up next to him, he gave his deputy a grim nod. “Nothing suspicious that I can see so far. What about you?”

“Nada,” Ben replied. “Other than the fact that Dorothy’s sister appears eager to dash, nobody looks out of the ordinary.” Ben raised his collar as a cold gust of wind swept through where they stood.