Across the room, Theo stood with his back against the wall, his attention both on the Moores and his phone. His posture had changed. His shoulders had squared, and his jaw had tightened.
Fortunately, he glanced her way.
She raised her hand, two fingers extended toward the opposite side of the room. He quickly tucked his phone into his pocket and began weaving through the dispersing attendees to catch up with her.
“Sylvie and Bit discovered something in their conversation with Paula Stillman,” Theo shared the moment he reached her, his voice low enough that only she could hear. “They think the killer is?—”
“It's Kyle Wheat.” The certainty in her voice left no room for doubt. “He is our unsub. We never checked the date he and Faith married, but it must have been after the murders. We assumed the two of them were together during the argument Heather had with Figg in the church parking lot.”
“That falls on me.” Theo was taller than Brook and was scanning the residents approaching the side exit. “Paula Stillman said that Kyle visited Heather's house multiple times before her murder. Claimed he was discussing photographing her parents' anniversary.”
“The unsub stopped because he found another way to preserve Loretta's memory.”
“Faith.” Theo’s gaze swept the room, his search clearly not producing results. “He married someone who embodies qualities he associates with Loretta Whitlow.”
“That’s right. A living memorial instead of a dead one.”
“He’s a photographer, Brook. We should have investigated him immediately based on his occupation.”
She couldn’t argue with Theo, but the mistake landed with her and the profile.
“We’re wasting time,” Brook muttered in frustration. The crowd had thinned somewhat, but still no clear sight of Kyle or Faith. Without hesitation, Brook stopped, reached for a folding chair, and stepped onto it, ignoring the startled glances from those around her.
The elevated position gave her the advantage she needed.
She spotted them immediately.
Kyle had his arm around Faith's waist, guiding her purposefully toward the side exit where Deputy Benz stood guard. He had been posted at the exit in case something had gone wrong during the presentation, not to prevent people from leaving the church. Kyle's movements were controlled but urgent, his head bent close to Faith's ear as he spoke. Something in their postures signaled to Brook that they were running out of time.
“Side exit,” Brook exclaimed, taking Theo’s hand as leverage to step down from the chair. As they began to make their way through the crowd, she caught sight of Figg Whitlow. He was standing motionless in the aisle. His gaze had been fixed on her, but had shifted to Theo. He had connected the dots, followed the direction of their gazes, and realized that Kyle and Faith had something to do with Heather’s murder. “Go!”
She all but shoved Theo forward, Kyle less than twenty feet from the exit now.
“Kyle, was it you?” Figg's voice boomed across the church hall, stopping conversations mid-sentence. The residual noise died immediately as every head turned toward the source of the shout. “You sick bastard!”
Kyle froze, his body going rigid. Faith turned toward him, confusion etched across her face. For a suspended moment,Brook thought Theo could reach the couple before the situation got out of hand.
Unfortunately, Kyle lunged at Deputy Benz, driving his shoulder into the officer's sternum. The impact knocked Benz against the wall, the air forced from his lungs in a pained grunt. Kyle's hand shot to Benz's hip holster, fingers wrapping around the grip of the service weapon before the deputy could react.
“Kyle!” Faith screamed, her voice shrill with confusion and fear. “What are you doing?”
She had yet to accept reality. By this time, Kyle had yanked the firearm free and stepped back, his movements jerky and uncoordinated. He swung the weapon in a wild arc that caused nearby residents to scatter with panicked cries. His chest heaved with rapid, shallow breaths as his gaze darted from face to face, finally settling on Theo, who was maybe twenty feet away at this point.
“Stay back!” Kyle shouted, the weapon shaking in his grip. His free hand reached out, grabbing Faith's wrist and pulling her against his side. “Everyone, just stay where you are!”
“This is a mistake,” Faith cried out as she tried to pull away from him. “Tell them this is a mistake.”
“Shut up!” Kyle's voice cracked with strain. He backed toward the exit, dragging Faith with him while keeping the gun trained on Theo. “You don't understand. None of you understands!”
Brook positioned herself between Figg and what was taking place at the side exit. His pupils were dilated, his skin flushed with a thin sheen of sweat despite the room's chill. She held a hand up to warn him off.
“Everyone, stay calm!” Brook's voice cut through the panicked murmurs that had erupted throughout the church hall. Kyle's eyes had the wild look of cornered prey. The muzzle of hisweapon wavered between potential threats, settling most often on Theo, who had advanced the closest toward him.
“Theo, stand down. Deputy Benz, hold your position,” Brook ordered, her tone leaving no room for argument. She kept her movements unhurried as she shifted her weight to stop Figg from advancing. The last thing they needed was another unpredictable element in an already unstable situation. Fortunately, Sheriff Donovan had his weapon drawn and positioned himself off to the side. “Sheriff, if Mr. Whitlow makes any sudden movements, arrest him.”
“He killed those women because of my mother,” Figg growled, voice barely contained. “He turned her into?—”
“Not now,” Brook cut him off sharply. “Do you want to see others hurt? That’s what will happen if you do something foolish. No one follows us outside, understood?”
