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“Can’t blame you,” Bridger agreed. “I don’t like him, either. So you preacher guys don’t hang out?”
“I just stay here. Mom and Dad say it’s for the best. For now.”
Bridger jerked a thumb toward the door. “But you drive. That’s a nice car out there.”
Billy squeezed his hands together and shifted his weight from foot to foot. When Billy looked away, Bridger caught her eye. He shook his head, a tiny movement, but it communicated everything she needed to know. Billy wasn’t in any condition to drive.
Bridger rose slowly. Since they’d entered the house, he’d done everything slowly, she realized. Softly. Quietly. Every action oozing comfort and calm.
He clasped his hands and bowed slightly. “Thank you for your time, Reverend. Jane and I appreciate it.” Then he ushered her out.
Tai was waiting out front, next to Billy’s car. “Anything?”
Bridger followed her toward his Jeep. “Nothing good.”
He opened the passenger door for her, pinning her with his gaze. “You okay?”
She smiled, appreciating the gesture. “I will be.”
As she slid into the car, the house caught her eye. “What happened to him? Billy was always an odd kid, but now….” She didn’t have the words to describe his strangeness. “Do you think he’s on drugs?”
Bridger shot a look back over his shoulder at the house. “Not sure. If he is, it’s nothing common.”
He caught Tai’s gaze in the rearview mirror. “Guy was practically comatose. Not drunk or high, just…weird. Slow, almost like he’d had a stroke or something. Or he’s mentally ill.” He shook his head. “I don’t have a lot of experience with serious mental illness.”
Tai raised his face toward the mountains high above them, their edges rimmed in the last of the silver light. “So we’re not liking him for the bombing?”
Bridger grunted. “Not sure. It’s possible he’s faking.”
Jane eyed the little house. A curtain twitched in the front window, making her shudder. The thought of Billy in there alone, like some modern day troll, broke her heart.
Bridger fired up the engine, breaking the melancholy spell. “Whether it’s Peckham or not, we need to up our surveillance game.”
Jane felt Tai’s knees rub the back of her seat as he tried to arrange his long legs. “I’ve got plenty of equipment,” he said.
“Enough to cover where the Pastor’s staying and this place?”
“Totally. The hardware store, too.”
That made her start. She craned her neck to look at Tai in the back seat. “What makes you think the store’s in danger?”
Bridger pulled out onto the dark road. “It’s not the store I’m worried about.”
She peered out the windshield, barely noting the stars flickering to life above the jagged horizon. “The bomb was clearly meant for Pastor Zack. Why set up surveillance for me?”
He shot her a quick look. “Because we can.”
“Copy that.” Tai chimed in from the back seat. “Trust me. It won’t be intrusive. I’ve got cameras the size of pencil erasers. Most of my other sensors are smaller than that. Your customers won’t notice a thing.”
“He’s just going to supplement the security cameras you already have in place,” Bridger added.
“If you can call that security,” Tai muttered.
She folded her arms and stared out the window. Everything here was so familiar. She knew every boulder. Every tree. Every roofline along the road. But now, in the space of a few days, she felt like she didn’t know anything about her world. And she certainly didn’t know who to trust.
The currents running, unseen, through the town threatened to sweep her straight off her feet.
She bowed her head and whispered a prayer for Pastor Zack, for Jason and Billy Peckham, and for the very soul of Redemption Creek.
