“No!” Amy said. “I’ll be happy to hear a preacher.”
The bartender, a big man, about six-foot-five, both heavy and muscled, came up, and Hunter ordered a beer.
The bartender eyed him suspiciously.
Just because they were newcomers? Or did someone know the law was heading back to their little town?
The door opened, shedding sunlight into the dimly lit bar.
A young man came in and looked in the bar for a minute, his eyes perhaps adjusting to the light. The bartender lifted a hand to him, and Phin Harrison said, “Hey.”
They appeared to know him. He looked to be college-age.
Sandy hair, six feet, medium build. He moved in to take a seat at the stool closest to the door; the bartender moved on to help him.
Phin turned his attention on Hunter and Amy again.
“You two a couple, or what?” he asked.
Hunter and Amy looked at each other.
Hunter laughed softly, setting his hands on her shoulders. “Yeah, we’re a couple. Definitely,” he said lightly.
“Well, think about the invitation. Like I said, we’re God-fearing people around here. We take care of each other. So, are you just passing through?”
Hunter decided to take a chance. “Actually, we were thinking about maybe settling in this area.”
Amy glanced quickly at Hunter but didn’t miss a beat. “It’s so beautiful. I grew up in the city—so seeing the trees here, wow! The way the moss falls from the trees and the trails just streak off the roads, I’d sure consider it.”
“Well, we do like places that feel like neighborhoods,” Hunter said. “Where people help one another, where they do things for one another. And we have been looking for the right church to join. She was raised Catholic, and I’m Baptist. We’re looking for something...different.”
“You’d love our pastor,” Phin said. “And we do have something special and unique here. Think about it hard, because if you don’t believe you’re right for really loving your neighbors and pitching in, you’re not going to like anything about this place. No one is an island here—Micanopy isn’t big, and the next biggest thing, well, you have to go all the way up to Gainesville or all the way down to Ocala if you need something and you don’t know your neighbors around here. Not that far in miles, maybe, but in an emergency, well, we all need each other.”
“So true,” Amy said.
“So, where is this barbecue?” Hunter asked. “Where is the town park?”
“About five miles down—you won’t be able to miss it. There’s a welcoming sign that’s always up. The outdoors is our church around here, though we do have a church. Anyway, like I said. Give it some thought. You’re welcome to come by.”
“Thanks.” Hunter finished his beer and set the empty bottle down. “Honey, let’s get back to the hotel. I’m going to call in about the horses, make sure the vet saw Red after we left.”
“You horse people?” Phin asked.
“Right. That’s why we need property,” Hunter told him.
“Nice to meet you—and I’m sure we’ll meet again,” Amy said.
Amy slid off her bar stool and Hunter took her hand, ready to lead her out. As they reached the door, she whispered, “Go on out.”
He did, but remained by the door, not sure what she was planning. But as she headed back in, she called out, “I think I left my sweater.”
He waited.
A minute later, she emerged.
He caught her hand and they smiled at one another and laughed, aware someone in the bar could be watching them.
When they were in the car, Amy explained, “I knew the bartender was talking with the kid who came in, and I had a feeling they were talking about us.”
“Saying?”
“When I was heading back in, he was saying he’d been warned about a pair of agents on the case down in the south, and they shouldn’t be fooled by us. I guess going to the barbecue as a couple of folks seeking a new home is not going to fly. We won’t hear anything, anyway.”
“No, they’ll be watching us like hawks,” Hunter said. He looked at her as they drove out. “I’d still like to go to that barbecue.”
“We can get a satellite image of the area. We can park a car and see what we can find from the outside looking in,” Amy suggested.
He nodded. “Good. Right. And I’ll let Garza know just in case there’s trouble.”
“I’ll talk to my people, too.”
“And we’ll check in with Detective Ellison.”
“Ellison?”
“He called me when they found the girl here—before I headed south to be with you. He’s a county man, detective, and a good one. We were in a behavioral training class together and worked the murder of a young waiter, maybe five years ago. He’s still investigating the woman who is, to me, the first in this series, even if she was killed as practice so they’d know how to kill when they started murdering people for their Apocalypse scenario.”
“I don’t think I’ve met him,” Amy said. “I’ve been around a lot of the state, but I haven’t met an Ellison.”
“Bo Ellison. He might even have something for us, though Bo would have called with anything important. He’s been getting reports, of course. But I also want to let him know I believe something more is going to happen here.”
“You don’t think they’re planning something at the barbecue, do you?”
He was quiet a minute. “I’ve started to wonder about Ethan Morrison’s sons—Aaron and Ezekiel.”
“Because they’re his sons?”
“Well, that. And maybe because I believe he’s been a controlling father. But not just for that reason. I don’t necessarily believe that the sins of the fathers fall to the sons. But Morrison has been in the news often enough and he’s often seen with his sons. It might be natural that they’d be his loyal lieutenants. They might have been among the men in the van, the three men who came south with our victims, Lady Liberty and Jane Doe number two. If not, Colby’s boys could be involved, Jayden and Chase—and maybe all four of them. This operation is tight, and loyalty is key. Loyalty among family members can be fierce. We know Hank either helped commit or was privy to the murders. Whoever recruited Hank knew something about him—knew about his past, and he’d be easy prey for them. That makes me believe—along with Casey’s concerns—her brothers are involved. They might be at college now, but they grew up back south and they knew Hank.”