The guy wiped his hands on his apron, which looked grimy from work. Or was it blood? “If you’re here about the laws against feather collecting, I can show you my permit.” His dark gray eyes stared at Cord with a wariness that seeped with anger.
“As a ranger, I’m aware of the laws,” Cord said. “So relax. I just want to talk.”
Gentry hesitated, tension radiating from his body. Cord half expected him to pull a gun, but he stepped aside, offering entry. “You said Dr. Brant gave you my name. You don’t look like an art collector to me?”
Cord shrugged. “I’m not.” He scanned the interior of the house, which was dark, poorly lit and filled with scenes of animal massacres on the walls.
For a moment, Cord thought this might be their man. No guns in sight but that didn’t mean Gentry didn’t have one.
Judging from the gruesome images on the wall, he possessed a sinister and troubled soul. Did that darkness simply feed his creativity or was there more to it?
“So why are you here?” Gentry asked as Cord followed him into his studio, where dozens of feathers were soaking in cleansing solutions. The scent of alcohol, hydrogen peroxide and vinegar was so strong that Cord had to breathe out.
No wonder Gentry wore the mask. Inhaling a combination of chemicals was dangerous, could even be deadly.
“You’re cleaning and sanitizing the feathers, aren’t you?” Cord asked as his gaze scrutinized the table holding the man’s supplies.
“Yes. But again, I have a permit to collect them as they’re so prevalent in the area and I’m not hurting the animals. Just taking what has naturally been left behind. I also gather feathers from zoos, private aviaries and the public. Feathers that are ethically sourced from molten parts of various species. Some more common ones are from turkey and geese.”
Cord moved closer to examine the ones soaking in the cleaning solutions on the table. “These look like crow feathers.”
An odd smile curved Gentry’s lips. “As I said, I have a license. I collect naturally shed ones on the AT. I consider it a cleanup project for the trail and they make my work more authentic. You probably saw a number of crows on my fence.”
The sight was embedded in Cord’s memory. He’d grown up in these mountains. He knew the folklore surrounding the crows.
“Yeah, I saw them,” Cord said. “But since they’re considered omens of danger or death or evil to come, why would people be drawn to them in art?”
Gentry’s gray eyes flickered to a piece on his studio wall, a piece where he’d crafted the crow’s feathers into what resembled a pit.
“Some of the Believers around Midnight Ridge think having a piece of my art, especially ones like this one that represents the devil’s pit, will actually ward off that evil.”
Interesting. Were the crow’s feathers left at Minnie’s death meant to keep evil at bay?
FIFTY-FOUR
Mystic Church
“You know you don’t have to do this, Tilly,” Derrick said. “You aren’t a detective and it could be dangerous.” He squeezed her hand. “I care about you and I don’t want you to get hurt.”
Tilly sighed. “Derrick, I appreciate your concern, but like I said earlier, I can handle this. I’ve attended AA meetings and understand how the program operates.”
Derrick raised a brow. He was still learning things about Tilly. “You belong to AA?”
“No, but I had a college roommate who’d been drinking since she was thirteen. She almost died the year she lived with me but finally agreed to attend a rehab center. When she was released, I supported her by attending AA meetings with her for a while.”
Derrick’s admiration for her rose even more. “You were a good friend, Tilly.”
Emotions filled Tilly’s eyes. “I tried to be, but she relapsed, then dropped out of college. After that she moved in with some loser.” Sadness tinged her voice. “I kept reaching out, but eventually she cut me off. With my estrangement from my familyafter my sister disappeared, I understand how Minnie must have felt when her family didn’t support her.”
Derrick gave her an understanding look. Hopefully learning the truth about what happened to her sister was helping her heal. “All right, but please be careful,” he said, resigned. “If you sense someone is dangerous, steer clear, and whatever you do, don’t go outside alone. I’ll be across the street at the coffee shop waiting. Text me when the meeting ends, or if you feel like something is wrong and need to leave early. I’ll be waiting either way and watching the building for anyone who looks suspicious.”
A small smile twinkled in Tilly’s eyes. “Don’t worry, Derrick. I’ll be fine.”
“You’d better be,” he said with a tender look. “I’ve gotten kind of fond of you.”
Tilly kissed his cheek. “Same.”
Derrick scanned the parking lot and exterior of the small brick church for anyone lurking around as she opened the door and climbed out. Tonight, she’d dressed in jeans, a slightly stained dark green T-shirt and sneakers to fit the part of a single mother in distress.
