“Damn.” She went through her phone. “Karen Brookes was taken on Valentine’s Day which was also. . .Ash Wednesday.”
“What about Felicia Drake?”
“Some churches celebrate that as the day Jesus was baptized.”
“So, our Unsub would have definitely celebrated.”
“I think so.” Haven scribbled in her notebook. “Okay. On the day Jesus was baptized, the first victim Felicia Drake was taken right after church. Second victim, Ariana was kidnapped on Ash Wednesday before she went to ballet school. Then, Emma Tucker who was taken out of her home. Dear God. . .”
“What day was that?”
“Easter.”
“Then, Shelly was taken on Pentecost Sunday and Melody on Trinity Sunday.”
Haven set her pen down. “At least now we can anticipate the next time he tries to take a girl.”
“August is coming up.” I gripped the wheel. “What religious holidays do we have?”
“August 15. The Assumption of Mary. That’s on a Wednesday.”
“Excuse my ignorance, but what’s that about?”
Haven picked up her phone and read from it. “It’s the taking up of the Virgin Mary into Heaven at the end of her earthly life. For the Catholics, it is a major feast day.”
“August 15 could be the day. We have to look into this further.” I stopped us at a red light and turned to her. “I’m sorry, Haven.”
Moving her view from the phone, she widened her eyes. “For what?”
“For telling you to go home earlier.”
“Thank you.”
“I’m glad you didn’t go.”
“Well, it didn’t matter if you wanted me to go or not. I was staying.”
Because you’re stubborn, perhaps, that’s why we get along.
Not done making her point, she said more, “I would’ve been right here, bothering the hell out of you.”
“That I see, Honeybee.”
She scowled. “I need you to stop saying that.”
I smirked. “My apologies.”
Honeybee.
Still, I wondered about Sean and her. “How was it seeing your ex?”
“Odd.”
The light turned green.
I sped off. “Did your heart pitter patter?”
“No. It was more. . .embarrassing.”
“Why?”
“Because you were in the room. You’re the great. . .”
“Go on.” My smirk deepened. “Tell me more about how great I am.”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re the great Alexander King known for catching bad guys from coast to coast. The last thing I wanted to do was solve a case with you, while my ex-lover sat in the room with his shirt off and staring at me.”
“So, you noticed him drooling?”
“He wasn’t drooling.”
“He very much was.”
If I was him, I would drool too, but I must keep up some appearances of professionalism.
I eyed her. “Will you meet with Sean while you’re here?”
“No. I’m in Fullbrooke for work.”
Good.
I nodded, not wanting her to meet with him anyway. Surely, the whole team should take moments off. The soul needed a break from the horror of cases like these. However, I didn’t like the idea of Haven sitting somewhere with Sean, hidden from his racist parents, yet gazing lovingly into her ex’s eyes.
Haven continued, “The most I’ll do is go to church with my mom. Perhaps, I’ll go by the Sheriff’s house for dinner, if he keeps pushing the point.”
“Sheriff Michaelson will. He thinks we’re keeping details from him.”
“Are you?”
“Absolutely. I’m not sure; the Unsub isn’t on Fullbrooke’s police force. They handled the Fullbrooke Six badly. I’m starting to wonder if that was intentional.”
“Then, I’ll give the Sheriff a rain check.”
I thumbed the center of the steering wheel. “And. . .perhaps if you have time, you can show me the best spots to eat around here.”
And maybe you can eat with me. No. I should leave this alone. She’s an agent on the case I’m working on. At least wait until this has been solved before trying to trick her into a date.
“Oh yeah. I can do that. Of course, Fanny’s is the big spot here, but I know a lot of places in Fullbrooke.” Haven gave me that sweet smile. “This town may be a bit racially backward and divided at times, but they sure can cook and play some good blues around here.”
“Then, my treat for dinner and I’ll look forward to that.”
She blinked but didn’t say anything else as if unsure if I’d asked her out or not.
Being that we were in the middle of a case and had just questioned her ex-boyfriend, I didn’t know what the hell I was doing either.
Usually, I had more finesse than this. More importantly, I always steered clear in these situations. But the short time of us going through this investigation helped me learn little details about Haven—her childhood, family, and even love life. I was finding that Agent Haven Barron was an intriguing person indeed.
And even crazier, I wanted to know more.
Dinner it is.
Chapter 9
Black Lilies
Haven
Fullbrooke’s Saint Mary Inn was designed in the Greek Revival style—white columns, sloping roofs, and stately entrance. A massive garden surrounded the huge place. Another garden was located within its courtyard.
When I was a kid, my father told me that Greek Revival architecture had emerged in the United States in the late eighteen century. Builders took elements of classical Greek architecture and used them in a wide variety of buildings. The style became especially popular in the United States around 1820 which was when Fullbrooke’s son Michael built Saint Mary’s Inn. Actually, slaves constructed the huge structure as was the case with all the historic buildings throughout town and even our nation. But Michael received the credit.
Regardless, the two-level inn catered to plantation owners and merchants, traveling to Fullbrooke. It stood at the center of downtown and was within walking distance to the high-society treats—art galleries, museums, and restaurants. As the years went by and slavery ended, this very place allowed famous civil rights leaders to stay here for free—W.E.B. Dubois, Medger Evers, and even Martin Luther King Jr.
Dad said the Inn was trying to wash away the stains of history.
Regardless, Saint Mary’s Inn did well. It was one of the top spots in Georgia to have a wedding or photoshoot for its picturesque ballroom. High-level business execs frequented the spot too, probably for the in-house health club and luxury-minded guestrooms.
My room offered plush bedding, high-speed wireless internet, and a flat-screen TV. I’d rushed out of there when I arrived, but had a little time to gasp at the high ceiling and Oriental rugs over what must’ve been original hardwood floors.
Alexander and I stepped into Saint Mary’s and was greeted by a striking bronze fountain. Two large cherub angles poured water out of vases. The lobby enchanted with its Georgian open-arm staircase, Italian marble floors, and glistening crystal chandelier.
Alexander spoke on my right, “Have you stayed here before?”