So I did.
I scooped her up without a word and turned toward the tent flap, nearly colliding with Delilah. The redhead’s eyes went wide when she saw June, but I shook my head.
“She’s okay,” I said. “Just…we need to get out of here.”
Delilah didn’t argue—just reached for the tent flap with one shaking hand and held it open, ushering us through. Outside, it was raining, cool as a baptism. Blue and red lights flashed somewhere through the trees. Phone flashlights danced. Tires spun. People were crying, running, praying.
But whatever had been here, whatever Abel had tried summoning…it wasgone.
Gone, like Abel himself.
Gone…like June’s angel.
Gone…like Amelia.
CHAPTER 29
June
I wantednothing more than to go back to our little house and go to bed—but we were needed at the police station in Perry.
Because Abel Trent was dead.
Whit Ward had ‘accidentally’ found evidence of Amelia Trent’s murder.
And…well, more than a few people claimed to have seen a heavenly spirit among the folding chairs.
I sat with a blanket draped over my shoulders in the sheriff’s office, Silas beside me, our hands intertwined on the armrest between us. Whit was sprawled in a chair at the edge of the room, while Delilah stood with her arms crossed by the door. Neither of them liked cops much—but we’d had to convince them that we needed their story to flesh this whole thing out.
Because just as we’d expected, they’d found something while we were…well, distracting Abel was an understatement.
“So,” the sheriff was saying, brow furrowed. He looked down at the gold cross necklace on his desk, the deed to thechurch beside it—a deed that conspicuously leftoutAbel. “You went to the revival to…what? Play detective?”
I shook my head. “Abel had been showing up a lot around the church, and we just wanted…well, we wanted him to know that we had as much a right to visit his services as he had to visit ours.”
“And your friends here?”
Whit raised an eyebrow, but he didn’t say anything.
Silas flashed the sheriff a smile. “They were tourin’ the property.”
The sheriff gave a low, unamused grunt. “Right. Sightseeing in the middle of a snake-handling sermon.”
Delilah leaned against the wall, mouth hardening into a thin line. “Look, we weren’t trying to make trouble. He was the one waving a rattlesnake around like a damn stage prop.”
“He was the one who died,” the sheriff shot back, then sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Sorry. Just…been a hell of a night.”
No one corrected him.
He rubbed his temples for a moment, then gestured to the deed. “So you found this…evidence. The land transfer files, and of course another few snakes. And the cross…?”
Delilah nodded. “Bottom of the box with the deed, wrapped in a cloth.”
He lifted the cross again, squinting. “It’s engraved. ‘To Amelia, all my love. S.’”
Silas didn’t say a word.
Neither did I.
