"What the hell?" Painter shook his head.
"A Bible," Sam said. "A white Bible. Maynard Reeves's trademark. But my guess is there isn't a fingerprint on it, other than your men's."
"Yeah, if it is from Reeves, he's too smart to leave fingerprints," Painter said. "Besides, there's no law against someone sending someone else a Bible, is there?"
"Take a look inside," Ivey said. "Just flip it open where the bookmark is."
Painter eased the pages back. "Hell! Take a look, Dundee."
"I wish I didn't have to show this to Jeannie, but she won't give us any peace until she knows," Sam said. "Any reason why she shouldn't be shown the Bible?"
"No reason I can think of. We can go ahead and show it to her." Lieutenant Painter clasped the Bible in his hand. "I'll go with you and reassure Ms. Alverson that everything's all right. Then we'll take the Bible downtown and have the lab run some tests."
Jeannie met them at the door leading into the kitchen. "Was it a bomb?"
"No bomb," Sam said.
Sam moved out of the way as Jeannie entered the kitchen, Ollie following. "What was it?"
The lieutenant held out the white Bible. "I believe this is yours."
Jeannie stared at the Bible.
"Why, it's the good book," Ollie said. "And you were worried somebody sent Jeannie something to harm her."
"Do you want to see this?" Sam asked Jeannie.
She looked at him, realizing the import of his question. There was more to the gift than the obvious. She nodded. He handed the Bible to her. A white satin ribbon marked a page near the beginning. Jeannie opened the Bible to the specified page and noticed that the white ribbon was dotted with dark red spots. One short verse had been smeared with the same red liquid that dotted the marker.
Jeannie read the verse silently. She swallowed hard, then read it aloud. "Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live."
"Who'd send such a thing?" Ollie jerked her head around in Sam's direction, and when he didn't respond, she looked back at Jeannie.
"It's a warning, isn't it?" Jeannie asked.
"What do you think?" Sam lifted the open Bible out of her unsteady hands. Placing the marker and the page to his nose, he sniffed, and then he scratched at the red spots on the marker with his fingernail.
"What are you doing?" Ollie stared at him, perplexed by his actions.
"The stains are blood, aren't they?" A knot of fear formed in Jeannie's throat, threatening to cut off her breathing.
"Yeah, they're blood," Sam said. "But not necessarily human blood."
"Just what are the police going to do about this?" Ollie asked. "Folks don't have the right to be sending bloodstained Bibles to other folks and as good as accusing them of being a witch."
"Ollie, there's nothing you can do about this," Jeannie said. "Lieutenant Painter will handle the matter—won't you, Lieutenant?"
"I'll be glad when all this business with the reporters and the sick folks and that crazy preacher comes to an end." Ollie continued mumbling to herself as she walked over to the kitchen cabinet. "I'll fix us all some coffee. I doubt we'll be getting any sleep tonight."
"I'll give y'all a call if we find out anything," Lieutenant Painter said.
"Please let me know if the blood is human or animal," Jeannie said.
Sam grabbed the Bible out of her hands. "There's no way we'll be able to prove Maynard Reeves is the gift-giver, but I don't have a doubt that this—" he snapped the Bible shut "—is the good reverend's handiwork."
"He's doing more than accusing me of being a witch." Jeannie shivered, the reality of the warning hitting her full force. Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live.
"He's threatening your life." Sam handed the Bible to Lieutenant Painter. "We have to find some sort of evidence against Reeves and put a stop to him before—"
"I know Maynard Reeves wants me dead," Jeannie said. "He's going to try to kill me."
"We'll do everything we can to help." Painter held the white Bible securely in both hands. "But without some hard evidence, our hands are tied." He nodded, smiling sadly at Jeannie, who returned his smile, then he left the kitchen.
"Coffee is nearly ready," Ollie said. "Dr. Howell will be home soon, and when he finds out what happened tonight, he's going to be terribly upset."
Jeannie sat down at the kitchen table. "There's no need to worry Julian about this until tomorrow." She looked up at Sam. "Maynard Reeves is going to try to kill me, isn't he?"
Sam knelt down in front of Jeannie. Taking her face in his hands, he looked her directly in the eye. "The truth?" he asked.
"Between us, always," she said.
"Since you refused to join his ministry, Reeves has convinced himself that your empathic powers came from the devil. He sees it as his duty to destroy the evil, and the only way he can do that is to kill you."
Jeannie gasped several times, repeatedly sucking in gulps of air. Sam put his arm around her. She laid her head on his shoulder, accepting his comforting caress.
"I won't let him succeed, Jeannie. I promise. I'll keep you safe. I'll guard you with my life."
Jeannie closed her eyes. One tear caught in her eyelashes, another trickled slowly down her cheek. Unconsciously she began absorbing the rage inside Sam. The hatred and anger centered on Maynard Reeves, but spread out in tiny waves toward anyone who meant Jeannie harm.
Sam was prepared to kill to protect her. Jeannie had never felt that type of hatred. Not even when she longed to be free from her stepfather's cruelty had she wished him dead. Jeannie wasn't sure she was capable of killing, even to defend her own life. There was a gentleness in her soul that longed to ease pain and suffering, to eliminate hatred and fear. Could she ever understand the barbaric ability to kill?
Safe in Sam's arms, the cruelties of the world far away, Jeannie delved into her soul, into that minuscule spot where a fragment of Sam's soul remained from their joining six years ago. Such a fragile link, one she knew Sam would sever if he was aware of its existence.
He kissed the side of her face, his lips brushing it tenderly, as he stroked her shoulders and back, soothing her with his touch.
In an instantaneous flash that left her as quickly as it had come, Jeannie knew exactly what Sam was. Sam Dundee, her protector, was a unique creature. He was an elegant savage, a compassionate warrior, and only if she was strong enough to become his equal could they ever truly be united.
Chapter 6
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"No. Absolutely not." Crossing his arms over his chest, Sam Dundee gave Jeannie his killer glare, the look that had made many a formidable opponent quake in his boots.
"Yes! Definitely yes." Jeannie didn't glance up from the task at hand, transferring the contents of her shoulder bag to a beige leather purse.
"It's out of the question." What would it take to get through to this woman? Didn't she realize that every time she went out in public, she was exposing herself to danger?
"I have not missed church in years. I'm not asking to attend the regular service the way I usually do. All I'm asking is for you to take me to the early-morning prayer service. There won't be many people at church." Jeannie snapped her purse shut, then smiled at Sam. "Now, I'm ready to go whenever you are."
"I'm not ready."
Jeannie surveyed him from head to toe, leisurely inspecting every inch of his massive body. She drew in a deep breath. Shivers of remembrance rippled through her, memories of a kiss that had rocked the very foundation of her life, memories of being held lovingly, protectively, in those enormous arms.
Sam was devastatingly handsome, and the very picture of a successful businessman in his navy blue double-breasted suit, a gold Rolex his only piece of jewelry.