Catherine Coulter - FBI Thriller - 8 by Blindside

Author:Blindside [Blindside]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2011-01-16T23:42:45.993000+00:00

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

Sherlock thought about that for a moment, then said, “Absolutely nothing will happen to Sam with Dillon and me with him, that I can promise you, or else we wouldn’t even consider taking him over there. Just seeing how Reverend McCamy reacts when confronted with Sam, well, that could give us lots of information.”

Miles said, “Minna, these two are the best, don’t worry. I’m not. On the other hand, I just might hide right outside the front door, a big stick in my hand.”

Katie was grinning as she said, “I agree that just maybe something will pop. After all, Beau and Clancy are no longer in the picture. If the McCamys are involved, they’ve not had time to recruit more out-of-work criminals.”

Late Tuesday morning, Savich and Sherlock, with both Keely and Sam in hand, knocked on the McCamys’ front door.

“Who lives here, Uncle Dillon?”

“Two very interesting people I think you kids might like meeting.”

“I’d rather watch cartoons,” Keely said and laced her fingers with Sam’s.

Sherlock said, “We’re going to have lunch with your mom, Keely, and your dad, Sam. So that means you need to hang out with me and Uncle Dillon for a while, okay? I doubt any cartoons will be playing in this house, so you’ll have to be patient.”

“She means she doesn’t want us to whine,” Keely told Sam, who nodded, then asked, “Where’s my dad?”

“He had some calls to make, you know, Conrad Evans at the plant. He said he needed you guys out of his hair for a while.”

“He always says that,” Sam said, “but then he says he can’t wait to see me again.”

Savich smiled. “That, Sam, is what’s known as a parent’s curse.”

Elsbeth McCamy came to the door after another minute had passed. She stared at the two agents, then she stared at the children.

“May we speak to you, Mrs. McCamy?” Sherlock said. “Forgive us for bringing the children, but we were the only two free adults.”

“Yes, of course. Do come in. Reverend McCamy,” she called out, “two FBI agents are here and they’ve brought children.”

It really was very old-fashioned of her to call her husband Reverend McCamy, Savich thought. But Elsbeth McCamy didn’t look the least bit old-fashioned in her tight low-slung jeans and white tube top that left three inches of bare belly showing. She was wearing a belly button ring, a delicate circle of gold.

And her Jesus earrings were shining bright in the morning light pouring through the front windows.

Reverend Sooner McCamy was wearing his patented black pants, a white shirt, and a black jacket.

When he came out of his study down the hall, he looked harassed. “Elsbeth, I’m ministering to Mr. and Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

Mrs. Coombs.”

“The agents would like to speak to us.”

“Take them to the living room. I’ll see if Mr. and Mrs. Coombs can wait for ten minutes.” He raised an eyebrow as Sherlock said, “Ten minutes sounds just fine.”

Elsbeth McCamy waved them into the living room. She eyed the children again.

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