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      SILENT KILLER

      If anyone noticed her, they would think nothing of seeing her inside the gazebo alone. No one must ever suspect the truth. If anyone discovered her identity, they would put an end to her righteous executions.

      No one could help her. No one could change the past. But she had the power to change not only her future, but the future of others. She must be the protector of the weak and defenseless, those without the power to overcome their oppressors. By slaying those who did not deserve to live, she could wash away her own sins, the sin in which she had been born.

      Only men were capable of the kinds of carnal evil that required death by fire. Although not blameless, women were to be spared until the final day of judgment.

      “Will I visit Dewan Phillips next?” she asked aloud. “Or is it time to strike against Donnie Hovater?”

      She prayed in earnest until her knees ached and tears streamed down her face. And then, finally, God spoke to her. Softly. Quietly. As gentle as the rustle of the wind. But she heard him.

      “Yes, of course,” she whispered. “I knew in my heart that he would be next. And yes, I will not wait. I will mete out his just punishment tomorrow night….”

      Books by Beverly Barton

      AFTER DARK

      EVERY MOVE SHE MAKES

      WHAT SHE DOESN’T KNOW

      THE FIFTH VICTIM

      THE LAST TO DIE

      AS GOOD AS DEAD

      KILLING HER SOFTLY

      CLOSE ENOUGH TO KILL

      MOST LIKELY TO DIE

      THE DYING GAME

      THE MURDER GAME

      COLD HEARTED

      SILENT KILLER

      Published by Zebra Books

      SILENT KILLER

      BEVERLY BARTON

      image KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP. http://www.kensingtonbooks.com

      Contents

      Prologue

      Chapter One

      Chapter Two

      Chapter Three

      Chapter Four

      Chapter Five

      Chapter Six

      Chapter Seven

      Chapter Eight

      Chapter Nine

      Chapter Ten

      Chapter Eleven

      Chapter Twelve

      Chapter Thirteen

      Chapter Fourteen

      Chapter Fifteen

      Chapter Sixteen

      Chapter Seventeen

      Chapter Eighteen

      Chapter Nineteen

      Chapter Twenty

      Chapter Twenty-one

      Chapter Twenty-two

      Chapter Twenty-three

      Chapter Twenty-four

      Chapter Twenty-five

      Chapter Twenty-six

      Chapter Twenty-seven

      Chapter Twenty-eight

      Chapter Twenty-nine

      Chapter Thirty

      Chapter Thirty-one

      Chapter Thirty-two

      Chapter Thirty-three

      Chapter Thirty-four

      Chapter Thirty-five

      Prologue

      Catherine Cantrell loved her husband. She hadn’t always loved Mark, not in the beginning. But day by day, month by month, year by year, she had grown to care for him deeply. He had become her best friend as well as her husband. She only hoped that she was a worthy helpmate. God knew she tried her best to be everything he wanted in a wife.

      The oven timer chimed, reminding her that the apple pie she had prepared from scratch was done. As she donned a pair of oven mitts, Mark breezed into the kitchen. When she smiled warmly at him, he returned her smile. She opened the oven door, reached inside and removed the hot pie, then set it on a cooling rack atop the granite counter.

      “Something smells good,” he told her as he placed his empty coffee mug in the dishwasher.

      “Apple pie for dinner,” she said.

      When he nodded approval, something inherently feminine within her longed for him to touch her. She needed a kiss on the cheek or a pat on the butt or a little hug around her shoulders. Any basic act of affection would do. But Mark was not the affectionate type. She should have accepted that fact long ago. After all, it wasn’t as if they were newlyweds or a couple who had been and always would be madly in love. But they did have a solid marriage, one based on mutual respect and admiration. That was far more than most couples had.

      “How’s next Sunday’s sermon going?” Catherine asked.

      “Not well. For some reason I can’t seem to keep my mind on my work this afternoon.”

      On Mondays, Mark worked at home instead of his office at the church. And she was home on Mondays, too, since she and her business partner, Lorie Hammonds, closed their antique store on Sundays and Mondays.

      “You were up late last night with the Jeffries family. I heard you come in after midnight.” Catherine removed the oven mitts, stuffed them into the drawer with the pot holders and turned off the oven. “And you were so restless that I doubt you got more than a few hours’ sleep. Maybe you need an afternoon nap.”

      “I couldn’t get that family off my mind,” Mark admitted. “It’s been difficult for Debbie and Vern coping with the loss of their only child. It has truly tested their faith.”

      “Losing a child has to be the worst thing that could happen to a person. If anything ever happened to Seth, I don’t know what I’d do.”

      “If, God forbid, that ever happened, and we lost our only child, we would do what I’m trying to get Debbie and Vern to do—put our trust in the Lord.”

      Catherine sighed quietly. A good minister’s wife would never question God’s plan for each of His children. But in her heart of hearts, she knew that if she ever lost Seth, she would die. Her son was her heart and soul.

      When Mark looked at her, apparently wanting a reply to assure him that they were in agreement, she avoided making direct eye contact with him. She didn’t doubt Mark’s love for Seth, but she also knew that her husband would never love their child as much as she did.

      “Catherine—”

      The distinct doorbell chime saved her from having to either lie to her husband or disagree with him and be lovingly chastised for her lack of faith.

      “I’ll get it,” she said. “Why don’t you go in the den and take a nap?”

      “Maybe later. I’ll get the door. It could be FedEx delivering my birthday present.”

      Catherine smiled indulgently. “We just ordered that new set of golf clubs two days ago. They probably won’t arrive until next week.”

      “A

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