“What the hell happened?” Luke demanded.

Al shook his head. “I’m still not sure. I don’t think your boss knows yet either.”

Luke stuck his head in the car. Susannah sat, her hands folded in her lap. Her face, as well as the front of her black dress, was streaked red with clay. “Are you all right?”

She gave him a weary look. “The only thing that hit me was Al. Kate Davis is dead.”

Luke frowned. “Kate Davis? You’re kidding.”

“I wish. The police shot her after she shot Gretchen French.”

Luke shook his head to clear it. “Kate Davis shot someone? In the cemetery?”

“Yes,” Susannah said calmly. “Gretchen French. In the cemetery. With a gun.”

“The victim Chloe mentioned this morning? The one who’s mobilizing the other victims to do a press conference?”

“That’s the one. Gretchen’s not hurt badly. The medics have her now.”

Al stuck his head next to Susannah, his expression grim. “What she’s not telling you is that she was standing next to Gretchen at the time.”

Luke’s stomach rolled over. She could have been killed. “I’ll get an update on Miss French,” he said roughly. “Then you’re going back with me.”

She looked surprised. “Kate didn’t shoot me. She shot Gretchen. And now Kate’s dead. I don’t think she’ll be shooting anyone else.”

“Humor me. Please.”

Something shifted in her gray eyes. “You’ve been very kind, Luke, but you don’t have to babysit me. I’ll be all right on my own.”

She’d pulled away even though she hadn’t moved a muscle. “Humor me anyway,” he said, his jaw tightening. “Susannah, I’m so exhausted that it’s hard for me to focus. It’ll just be harder if I’m worried about you.” That seemed to make a difference.

She nodded. “All right then. Should I come with you now?”

“No. Stay here until I come back.” He and Al straightened and regarded each other over the top of the car. “Can you drive this rental car back?”

“Yes. That young woman, Kate Davis. Her brother Garth is the last surviving member of Simon’s club. Is it possible news of Susannah’s statement leaked out?”

“And that she was the intended target?” Luke had already considered it. “I’ll find out.”

Luke found Chase looking down at Kate Davis’s body. Chase looked up sourly. “I’m having a very bad day.”

“So’s Kate Davis,” Luke said. “Who shot her?”

“Don’t know,” Chase said, even more sourly. “Wasn’t any of us.”

Luke frowned. “You mean it wasn’t GBI?”

“No, I mean it was not any law enforcement officer on the premises. No one fired their weapon. Therefore, I do not know who shot this woman,” Chase said testily.

Luke looked around, frowning. “We have a second shooter?”

“Looks like.”

“The bullet hit her straight in her heart. Somebody has a good eye.”

“Yeah, I got that part. At least Kate’s eye wasn’t so good. Gretchen will be all right.”

“That’s what Susannah said. I’m taking Susannah back to Atlanta myself. So what did happen?”

“Kate Davis was in a pocket of people milling around the graveside. There was a huge line of cars waiting to get out of the cemetery and people were getting impatient.”

“I parked on the next access road,” Luke said. “I had to walk, but I got out fast.”

“You weren’t the only one, which was part of the problem. When bullets started to fly, people had already started leaving. It was almost impossible to lock the area down.”

There were still a lot of people in the cemetery, many lined up along the yellow tape one of the officers had strung, hoping for a real-life taste of CSI. “Witnesses?”

“The three old men on the folding chairs had a ringside view. They said they saw Kate with a jacket draped over her arm, looking ‘antsy.’ ” He pointed to the jacket lying on the ground about two feet from the body. “The next moment there was a shot fired and people started screaming. Al Landers tackled Susannah, knocking her down, but it was Gretchen French who was hit. Seconds later, two cops had their guns drawn and pointed at Kate. One told her to drop her weapon. The cops said she looked stunned.” Chase met his eyes. “And then she said, ‘I missed.’ ”

Luke’s blood ran cold. “Shit.”

“Yeah. The next second Kate drops like a rock. She was dead before she hit the ground. Like you said, somebody was a damn good shot.”

“And had a gun with a silencer.”

“Right again.”

“Then the other shooter got away.” Luke refused to let the panic in his gut rise to choke him. She’d missed and Susannah was unhurt. Gretchen’s injury was minor. “I’m glad you’re handling the brass. This is going to make us look like fucking monkeys.”

“That about sums it up. You don’t have to stay, Luke. Ed’s got the scene and I’ll manage the press.” He grimaced. “They all got some great video for their newscasts.”

“I’m glad we were here,” Luke said pointedly, and Chase rolled his eyes.

“You were right. This was no babysitting job.”

“Thank you. I’m going back now. I have to meet Kasey Knight’s parents at two. You know, the parents of the first dead girl we’ve identified. I’m not looking forward to this.”

“Wait,” Chase said. “Weren’t you going to check to see if Granville had a safe deposit box at Davis Bank in Dutton?”

“I went by before the service, but the bank is closed,” Luke told him. “Rob Davis, the bank manager’s grandson, is being buried up in Atlanta today.”

“Because Rob Davis pissed off Mack O’Brien who then killed his grandson in retaliation.” Chase sighed. “Now his nephew Garth is in jail, Garth’s wife and sons are missing, and Kate is dead. I don’t think it’s healthy to be a member of that family.”

“Or a Vartanian for that matter,” Luke said quietly.

“Or a Vartanian,” Chase agreed.

“Excuse me.”

Both Luke and Chase turned to find a pale Pastor Wertz standing behind them. “Yes, Reverend?” Chase asked. “What can we do for you?”

Wertz looked stunned. “I have another funeral this afternoon. What should I do?”

“Whose funeral is it?” Luke asked.

“Gemma Martin,” the pastor replied. “Oh, dear, this is not good. Not good at all.”

“Mack O’Brien’s third victim,” Chase muttered. “Are you expecting a large crowd?”

“The family hired security to keep the media out,” the pastor said. “But they’ve been flying overhead, sneaking through. It’s been horrible. Horrible.”

“We’ll be cordoning off this whole section of cemetery,” Chase said. “It’s a crime scene now. The funeral and burial will have to be postponed.”

“Oh my. Oh my.” Pastor Wertz wrung his hands. “I’ll tell Mrs. Martin, Gemma’s grandmother. She won’t be happy about this. No, not at all.”

“If it’ll help, I’ll tell them,” Chase offered, and the pastor nodded.

“It would, indeed.” He looked down with a sigh. “Poor Kate. She was the last person I would have expected to do this. But I suppose even clear heads can get muddied in times like these, with Gretchen accusing her brother of rape. Her parents would have been so disappointed to see how Kate and Garth turned out. So sad. So very sad.”

Dutton, Saturday, February 3, 12:45 p.m.

Luke glanced at Susannah before returning his eyes to the road. She’d had her eyes glued to her computer screen since they’d left the cemetery. “What are you doing now?”

“Checking runaway sites for Jane Doe. I spent about three hours on this last night.”

“We have people checking all those sites. Why don’t you sit back and go to sleep?”

“Because she’s mine,” Susannah said quietly. “Besides, your people only have pictures of her face all bruised up with her eyes closed. I saw her eyes open. I might see something they don’t see. And I’ll go crazy if I don’t have something to do.”

“That I understand. What did you find out about swastikas this morning?”

“Not much earthshaking. The swastika is used in Hinduism, Jainism, and Buddhism. In all cases, it’s a religious symbol and can represent anything from evolution of life to good luck and harmony. It can mean something different depending on whether it’s right or left facing. Mine faces right, which is strength and intelligence. Facing left,” she said wryly, “it means love and mercy.”