Dead Cold Mysteries Box Set #2: Books 5-8 (A Dead Cold Box Set) by Blake Banner (types of ebook readers txt) 📕

to say, I tend to agree. Now can we clarify, please? Are you saying that Kathleen did not contact you to say she was coming to visit?”

Their faces had gone like stone. He answered.

“She did not. And if she had, we would have told her she was not welcome.”

“Because she had stolen your sons from you.”

She spoke through pinched lips. “They were young and innocent. Those girls seduced them. They led them away from the path of righteousness.”

I said, “And all you wanted to do was lead them back.”

“We only try to do God’s work. We are simple, plain folk.”

“What does God’s work include, Mr. Olvera?”

“Whatever God commands.”

“And how do you know what God commands?”

He was watching me carefully because he knew where we were going. “It is all written in the Good Book, Detective, and the Sixth Commandment states very clearly, thou shalt not kill.”

Dehan pressed him, “Even if it is the will of God?”

“If it were the will of God, He would find His own means, and maybe that is what He did. We are humble servants of God, but we follow His will as laid down in the holy scriptures. We do not make it up according to our convenience. We leave that to the Catholics and the Jews.”

I sighed. “Do you know Greg Carson?”

He nodded. “He was a friend of our sons. His father was a good man.”

“Do you have much contact with him?”

“No, Detective. We don’t have much contact with anyone. We work, we tend our simple plot of land and we serve God in whatever ways we can each day, and give thanks for his mercy. We don’t socialize, we see few people from one month to the next.”

I’d heard everything I needed to hear, and about as much as I was willing to. I looked across the table at Dehan. She gave her head a shake and I stood.

“We won’t take up any more of your time.” They didn’t get up with us but stayed sitting at the table as we made our way to the door. I opened it for Dehan and then turned back to look at them, both staring down at the simple, plain table top their God had blessed them with.

“Do you know your Bible, Mr. Olvera? How about you, Mrs. Olvera? You know your Bible?”

He answered for them both. “We are rigorous in our Bible study, Detective.”

“You familiar with Matthew?” They both looked away. I insisted, “Matthew 7:1, Judge not, that ye be not judged. Matthew 7:2, For with what judgment ye judge, ye shall be judged: and with what measure ye mete, it shall be measured to you again. Matthew 7:3, And why beholdest thou the mote that is in thy brother's eye, but considerest not the beam that is in thine own eye?” I gave my head a little sideways twist. “You sure you don’t ‘make it up according to your own convenience’? A good day to you both.”

We left them in their simple, plain house, probably judging us and sentencing us to eternal damnation, and strolled through the broad, empty streets of Seven Hills back toward the Wagon Wheel. After a bit, Dehan said, “You memorized the Bible?”

“No, I just happened to Google that quote the other day, for something unrelated.” I shrugged. “Synchronicity.”

She said absently, “A Jungian concept.” I raised an eyebrow at her. She looked defiant. “What? I Google too.” She looked away and stuck her hands in her pockets. “So maybe they are religious fanatics. Maybe they hate the Vuolo girls for taking their sons away. Maybe she called…”

“They have no phone.”

“OK, so maybe she wrote them and they said, ‘Yeah, come up, we’ll talk about it.’ Papa Freak met her at the station, drove her up to Lefthand Canyon, badabim badabam, end of story.” She curled her lip and shook her head. “But I don’t think so. I can’t tell you why, I just don’t get that vibe from them.”

“Vibe… Cosmic vibrations aside, I can’t see Kathleen ever wanting to go and visit them. Especially if she was depressed. It’s extremely improbable. And if there ever was any correspondence between them, it’s going to be damned hard to prove, because there will be no electronic record of it.”

She nodded. “I agree. Greg is our guy.” I smiled. She eyed me. “What?”

“Go back to the kitchen and make the tea, woman.”

“Can you believe that? What keeps a woman with a guy like that?”

We walked in silence and I studied the cold, empty blue sky above us. “I think some people stick together just because they’re terrified of some day dying alone.” I frowned at her. She was watching me with an odd, quizzical expression. I said, “Dying alone is a pretty scary thought.”

She made a kind of ‘pfff’ sound and looked away. “Crazy, isn’t it? People will live all their lives alone, even when they are close to somebody. I mean, they won’t commit—take that step and commit. But what scares them is dying alone. You know? I don’t mind spending my whole, goddamn life alone, as long as I don’t die alone!”

We walked in silence to the car and got in.

Nine

We followed the same route we’d followed that morning, winding between the steep, densely forested slopes, till eventually we came to Gold Hill. Gold Hill has four streets: Main Street, Gold Run Street, Suicide Hill Street, and the fourth street has no name. These are intersected by Prospect Street and a couple of others which also have no names. None of these streets is tarmacadamed and there are no traffic lights or stop signs. And all the houses have plenty of space between them, so they can stretch and expand with gardens, orchards and vegetable patches. As we rolled slowly through the town along